Ninja Revolution: The Dawn of Shinobi

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 Death Dealer (Mangekyo Sharingan Training)

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Okami
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Posts : 357
Join date : 2016-02-03

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Age:: 24
Rank:: Chowakage
Village:: Chowagakure

PostSubject: Death Dealer (Mangekyo Sharingan Training)   Mon Feb 08, 2016 9:46 pm

Okami, dressed in his usual garb, would leap from building to building stealthily, headband tied loosely around his neck and kunai blade slung over his back. It was back to the grind, 2 days after his mission to protect Miss Hai, and he was again tasked to kill. He was fully loaded, and was on the hunt for Hayato Mamush, the lord of a crime syndicate that sprung up recently. There was a rumor that he was passing through the Port of Dreams, staying in a bar called The Sleeping Dog. Getting there was a chore, as it was on the west side of the port city, and Okami was STILL sore from his previous missions. Breathing lightly but harshly, he would stop a moment, orienting himself before sniffing the air. There was a faint smell of blood, sweat, and sex directly below him, meaning he had gotten to the right place, as the Sleeping Dog was a renowned brothel. Dropping off the rooftop, Okami would then walk in, smoke from a hookah blasting him in the face as he stalked into the main room. Seeing several other shinobi surrounded by women, he slowly shook his head before turning to the bartender. Ordering a soda, he would wave off a pair of girls that decided he was a decent mark. Turning to the bartender, he would ask under his breath where the crime lord was, and the bartender would motion him upstairs. Finishing his drink, he offered to pay the man, who politely declined with a statement that members of the military gotfree drinks every night past 6. Walking upstairs, Okami noted the tasteful décor and good construction of the building. No wonder it was so popular. The women were all well dressed, and the place was classy.

Stepping into the first room on the right, as instructed, he soon noticed something was amiss. His suspicions were proved when a light came on and 9 men were standing in the spacious area. All had weapons drawn, facing him, and the four in front charged. Adhering to the tenets of Iaido, he slashed through the first one with ease. The second swung at him, and he toyed with the boy for a moment before dispatching him with a quick slash to the throat. Killing them all was no problem for him at the moment, as he was capable of compartmentalizing his thoughts. They were the enemy, no matter their face, no matter their age. If they had to die, so be it. Kicking at another of the Genin, he heard the distinct sound of ribs breaking as he flew into the wall. Moving on to the last one, he sliced once, twice, three times, severing both hands and bringing the sword down into his torso from his shoulder. It saddened him that he had to kill his opponents, but they were in his way of the cowardly man sitting in the back of the room



Activating his Sharingan and dashing sideways, Okami charged the first of the Chuunin, feinting high then slashing out his leg at the thigh, slicing through his artery at the same time. Dancing around the spraying blood, he would slash a quick X towards the next, opening up his chest before jabbing at his throat with a kunai held in his off hand. Dual wielding his longer kunai and normal kunai, he blocked the next Chuunin's palm strike with the point of his kunai, stabbing the man through the hand. Running him through with his blade he ripped his blades out and threw the kunai at the furthest of the remaining Chuunin, who was attempting to form a D-Ranked Earth Style jutsu from the look of things. Feinting to the left then slashing low, he finally gutted the last Chuunin with a forehanded slash that left nothing to the imagination. Letting the bodies hit the floor, he retrieved his kunai, flicked the flood off his blade with a practiced move and sheathed it, moving to the terrified man in the back. He appeared about to piss himself, not at all like the crime lord that he was supposed to be. Angrily, Okami snapped at him to spill it, which he did. Almost all over the shinobi's shoes, in fact. Avoiding the vomit that splattered the floor, Okami briefly felt genuinely sorry for ruining the beautiful upholstery in the room, but his attention was soon drawn to the man blubbering about the real Hayato Mamush's location. It was a distance outside town, and he would probably need an escort back, knowing the Village standards and the amount of chakra he would have to expend in the coming fight. Apparently, the organization had around four Special Jounin-ranked Missing-nin as a sort of honor guard for the bastard. Things just couldn't be easy for him, could they?

Dancing with these low rank fools was child's play, but these bodyguards, and Hayato himself, were a different story altogether. Okami licked his lips in anticipation of the fight to come. He didn't often get a fight on this level, and he relished every minute of it. Of course, in the last few weeks, he had gotten more than his fair share of these fights. However, he had never been more ALIVE. Moving the couple dozen miles outside the city on foot took several hours, but in the wee hours of the morning he finally arrived at the tiny shack where Mamush was hiding. The Special Jounin were dozing off outside before he purposely broke a stick to wake them, snapping the lazy guards awake before he drew his long kunai, drawing three normal kunai in his off hand between his fingers.



The dance of death began with a quick slash on the side of Okami, cutting down the first where he stood before the other three burst into action. Slashing downwards, he had quickly reversed his grip and thrust through the man's torso, literally ripping him in two as he spun towards the next foolish Missing-nin. Throwing two kunai at the others to keep then back, he performed the next twist in the story as he kicked low, sweeping the leg as he slashed with the remaining kunai in his left hand. Avoiding the backhand, his opponent flipped himself up and punched Okami in the gut, forcing him to back up two steps. So, they were Taijutsu users, eh? Once Okami was able to catch his breath, which took longer than normal due to the injuries he had sustained prior to the mission, he narrowly avoided getting a right hook to the jaw. On the defensive, Okami dodged move after move on the part of the other man before slashing with his kunai blade, tearing out the Special Jounin's shoulder as he stabbed the man with the kunai. Kicking him off the blade, he turned to the remaining Missing-nin, a woman and a child that looked about 15 or 16.

The two attacked as one, in a beautiful harmony that Okami wished he could recreate. The woman attacked him in a blitz of fist and fury. The boy seemed to be a master of kickboxing, keeping okami on his toes as he attacked from the side while the woman attacked from the front. Ducking under the boy's leg, stabbed him in the thigh, letting go of his kunai and grabbing the leg to use the kid's momentum against him. Throwing him off to the side, Okami grabbed the wire he had attached to the kunai and ripped it out, causing him to cry out in pain. Spinning it like a flail around a foot above his head, Okami would let it return to his hand before breathing outward forcefully, causing the woman to hold her breath. Perfect, Okami thought as he kicked her in the ribs, knocking the wind out of her while she was paying attention to the kunai in his hand. Putting away the kunai, Okami gripped his kunai blade in the perfect manner, just loosely enough that it wouldn't fly out of his hand, only using his thumb and first two fingers. When he struck the moment she got back up, he would flick the blade forward, tightening his grip only at the end for maximum velocity and effect. Slashing out her throat while she couldn't breath was an unfair move, but he was a shinobi. He gave no mercy, and expected none. It saddened him that it had to be this way, but someone had to stand guard in the darkness so that others could live in the light.

Sharingan downcast at the lives he had just taken, he didn't notice the boy getting back up, lashing out at the back of his head. The only thing that saved him from unconsciousness was that he turned at that moment, seeing the foot and reacting with the grace only a swordsman could muster. Moving his forearm up while stepping back with his rear foot, he caught the blow on his left arm. Driving his kunai blade to his side, the young man collapsed to the ground with a gash opening on the calf opposite the original injury. Screaming, he gripped his leg to him for dear life, the ninja before him turning from shinobi to Shinigami in an instant. The young man looked up through tear-stained eyes, staring at the god of death before him with terror at what was to come. Sighing, Okami sheathed his blade with a practiced flip and bent down to tear off two strips from the boy's shirt. He didn't know any specific medical ninjutsu, but he was proficient in first aid due to being a practitioner of kenjutsu since he was six. Often the knowledge used to destroy the human body could be reversed to help put one back together. Creating two tourniquets with a pair of sticks he found, he ordered the young man to keep on pressure until the blood stopped, and then try to find the nearest village. Okami still had business to take care of, evidenced by the very fat man that made his way into the early morning light out of the cottage.



Aligning himself properly, Okami made the first strike in the next couple of seconds, the dance of battle coming to it's conclusion in the span between one heartbeat and the next. Building up momentum in his weapon, Okami drew slashed outward with his kunai blade, cutting through the man's fat and muscle like wet rice paper in a time span faster than the sound made by a clap. The fat man gurgled a moment as blood filled his lungs, spilling the sanguine liquid from his mouth as he toppled over without even knowing what happened. Okami was glad; He had heard reports of the man's physical strength, and was shocked to say the least. The expensive cigar fell out of his mouth as he hit the ground, disgusting Okami as he turned to walk away. The teen had gone, out of sight using the Body Flicker technique. It was just as well, the Special Jounin supposed, since he probably would be better off not seeing his boss's guts spilled all over the lawn. Reporting this would be a bitch. How does one explain that they got ambushed in a whorehouse, and had to walk hours in order to find their real target. There was too much room for assumption there, and it made Okami nervous just thinking about the rumor mill. They already had a field day with his completion of two SS-Ranked missions, and they weren't going to ever shut up if the fact he had been to a home of ill repute got out.



Rushing home, Okami was greeted by a wash of fresh air before his girlfriend smothered him. Laputa Hyuuga was beautiful. Slightly reddish auburn hair frames the face of an angel with small braids running down the front and a high pony in the back. A slender neck leads down to voluptuous breasts that are kept bound most of the time in order to hide their true size. Under these, a flat stomach leads to the lean, muscular legs of an athlete. All in all, she is a drop-dead stunner. Shocked as she looked in his eyes, Okami deactivated his Sharingan and apologized. Due to both their clans having Dojutsu, it was considered polite in their house to not activate them unless it was necessary. Putting his equipment in the proper places, they cuddled for a while while watching a movie as she tended to his wounds. She had a rough upbringing, evidenced by her past. 


Laputa was brought up in a dying portion of the Main Branch family. From birth, her Byakugan was coveted by many who would abuse them, so her parents hid her away for ages, only allowing her to go to the Academy after she begged and begged. She wanted to help people, she said, and the only way of doing that is by learning chakra control and Medical Ninjutsu. They finally relented, allowing their only daughter to go to the Academy when she was eight. While she was there she was put into the Special Advanced class, one she shared with two other shinobi in the Village currently. One was supremely popular, and the other was overly talented. She couldn't hope to compete with either when it came to combat, so she worked on her Medical Ninjutsu under a helpful teacher named Miss Nala. Eventually, she came to have a crush on her instructor, which was frowned upon by her family. Squelching her own feelings almost immediately following a "talk" with her parents, she continued on through until she was about 10 when she finally passed her test. After a short while with the standard Genin squad configuration, she was placed into the Chuunin Exams.

When they were let loose in the forest, she immediately sought after the scrolls, only to run into a pair of older boys who obviously wanted some. Being only 13 at the time, she had an idea of what they wanted but was unwilling to give herself to them. The moment they set themselves upon her, tearing her clothes, they were caught with their pants down, literally. Blood spraying from their throats, a blue silk blanket was thrown over her form. As her savior walked away, she caught a glimpse of a night-black ponytail and a red Chowagakure headband. She was saved, and the scrolls the two boys had dropped were both what she needed to complete the exam.

Fast forward several years. She had passed the Chuunin Exams splendidly, and she was now sixteen years old. Searching for a love that was lost, she had sewn the blue silk blanket into the dress that she wears constantly. She went through several boys and even more girls trying to find THE ONE, the person who had rescued her, but it was to no avail. That hair color was rare, especially in that length, so who could it have been? Not bothering with it for the moment, she set to her work with a fiery passion. Her Byakugan assisted her in seeing the flow of chakra through a person, allowing her to better apply her Medical techniques and herbal remedies. She believed in those, despite the effectiveness of Medical Ninjutsu, as she believed that they could save your life even if you were out of chakra. Unfortunately, her mind wanders in her field, causing her to perform unorthodox procedures that, somehow, work beyond all hope. This is the only thing that keeps her from getting in trouble with the Kage, given her track record of these bizarre procedures. Who knew a face transplant would work?! Despite this, she still had time for her family, who were growing older with each coming year. They were middle-aged when they had her, and now they were easily in their sixties. It was while she was visiting that they closed their eyes for the last time, age having outdone them. Crying for them, she buried them with their forefathers, making sure their eyes were destroyed in case someone decided to try and take them. After all, Byakugan users from the Main Line didn't have the curse mark that prevented that. Laputa vowed right then to uphold what she promised them; that she would bring a change to the Shinobi World, no matter the cost.

Once she was done, and once they had gotten a little frisky, they settled down to bed, where Okami began to have a nightmare about his past...


Born to the then Head of the Clan, Okami was an only child. He was born in early July, on a Full Moon. His mother, Kitsune, had been in a violent labor for three days, and every minute of it saw her chakra drained more and more. She would scream, and the clan would cry with her, for he had no known father. Blood covered every inch of the bed, and the midwives were confused as to what was happening. Among the noble houses his family were known for being born with unnaturally high chakra levels, and thus had the most violent births. Yet, this was different. The very ground under the bed splintered from the force of her contractions, and several nurses and doctors had to be carried out and treated for comas and shattered bones. The crescendo had come at midnight. She gave the final push, and Okami made his way into the world…at the cost of his mother.

His upbringing was shrouded with pain and horror. Their noble standing was tenuous, as multiple other clans wished for their downfall so that they could rise. Okami had been adopted by his aunt, who loved him as her own. The other members of the clan, however, did not see eye to eye with her. They demanded that she send the young child to an outer village, where no one would care if he killed anyone in a fit of pique. Even though he was the last descendant of the Head Family other than his Aunt, he was considered to be much too dangerous for anyone to care for. An old seer in the clan foretold that if he lived, disaster would fall upon the various branches of the family. Attempts were made on his life quite often, and he was rejected by the other children his age. In order to teach him control to prove the others wrong, his Aunt conspired in secret to have him trained in kenjutsu by the best when he was six. He then spent many years of his childhood bouncing from dojo to dojo, never quite fitting in with the other students, yet always at the top of his class.

Eventually, Okami became weary of learning how to use a sword but not being able to utilize his skills. He went home after around five years of being away to tell his Aunt that he wanted to become a Shinobi. As he strode home, he saw a burning light fall to the ground a few miles away. Running towards it, he found it sitting there, waiting to be picked up. The chakra being exuded from the light was immense, so much so that the young Okami was soon enthralled by it. Walking over towards it, he picked up the strange orb, around the size of a marble. It was almost the consistency of jelly, but retained its shape as he moved it to and fro. Lifting it to his mouth, he wondered idly what it tasted like. A massive blast of energy coursed through his body the moment it touched his lips, causing him to drop it onto the ground. Picking it back up, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed it whole, upon which a searing pain shot through the young boy. Falling to the earth, he began to convulse, the pain not letting up until finally, blessedly, he fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes, he stood upon a plateau high in the heavens, before a shining silver Tien Lung. The dragon shifted its massive head, regarding the boy coldly. "So," It said, "You have come to take my power. You would have me live in your body, eat your food, sleep in your mind until you are ready to wield me? Ha. Young one, you have the potential, else you would not have survived the sealing, but I cringe to think that I would bow down so easily. Why should I, when all you would do is use me for your race's petty wars and squabbles. No, I think that if I were to go with you, I could guide you to the path you are fated to walk. Fine then. I shall finish the seal, then we shall be partners. At least, we will be once you are capable of wielding my power."

The next day, Okami woke up to find himself in a dorm room with multiple older boys. The blanket he had been covered with when he was found was sitting at the foot of the bed, folded neatly next to a white uniform with blue trim. Picking up a note that sat next to it, a grieving moan tore itself from his lips as Okami read the sorrowful explanation. His Aunt had passed away years ago, and the family member that had found him had enrolled him in the local Academy. Storing the letter safely in the foot locker at the end of his bunk next to his blanket, Okami put on the Academy uniform and belted on the katana granted to him. The older students watched as he fumbled with the sleeves that were much too long, until one walked over and ripped them off for him, helping him fit the rest of the troublesome uniform on. He was one of them, and they took care of their own.

Over the next few months, Okami began to change. His demeanor brightened, from acting aloof and uncaring to being more open and friendly.  The other students thought of him as an enigma, as he was placed in the Special Advanced Class immediately upon taking the test, despite his age. However, they were universally kind and helpful to him for a time, as the members of his dorm told others about the night he was brought in. After several weeks, Okami soon hit the growth spurt expected of every twelve-year old. Conveniently, that was around the time that combat training started for the Special Advanced students. The students would spar against each other and against the occasional instructor. Throughout this time period, Okami was constantly berated by the head instructor, who everyone referred to as Old Jinto. According to Jinto, Okami’s method of fighting was off-kilter and flawed compared to the rest of the class. 

During his 8th month at the academy, Okami heard rumors of an exam that, if passed, allowed the student to graduate early. To the young man, this sounded like a dream come true. Old Jinto had made his life a living nightmare by this time, taunting him, turning other students against him, and having his posse, a gang of Sixth-Years, beat him to a bloody pulp. Going to the main study hall, Okami sought out the instructor responsible for the exam. Signing up for it, he learned that the test itself consisted of only one thing: He must defeat Old Jinto in full combat. At hearing what the exam entailed, a slow, sadistic smile spread across Okami’s face that sent chills down the spines of more than one instructor while the other students cowered and ran. He was going to enjoy this.

The harsh shriek of steel grinding on steel sounded throughout the academy as Old Jinto and Okami struck in unison. The entire student body was watching, enthralled by the clash of reiatsu before them. Jinto’s katana strained under the force of Okami’s nodachi, both blades being swept to the side as the swordsmen each parried the other’s blow. A wave of reiatsu blasted outward along the blades’ path, collapsing a set of stands by the Academy Arena. Students went flying as the instructor disengaged, using Earth Style to restrain his opponent. The exam judges watched on in horror as Jinto released his chakra restraints in order to finish off the struggling student.

A single tear fell down Okami’s face as he watched the man who would kill him in order to keep his already-damaged reputation. Something in the young man’s heart snapped as Old Jinto stepped forward, no doubt to crush him with his Earth-Type jutsu. Okami watched as the dirt that had restrained him burned away with fires as black as pitch, and as he stood up he could hear Jinto screaming. Looking at him, Okami saw the proud bastard sink to the dust, sobbing and moaning. In his hand was his sword, a blazing inferno enveloping the misshapen weapon as a pool of metal flowed from between his fingers onto the sandy ground beneath their feet. Flashing in the sunlight, the sword sang through the air as Okami slashed through Old Jinto’s chest and buried her blade into his abdomen. Smiling to himself as the other students cheered, Okami closed his eyes and recalled the one memory he had of his mother. She had only held him for around 5 minutes before she passed out from blood loss, but over the long years he had seared the scene into his memory. She had whispered a few words as a glow of power enveloped her hand, his own chakra responding as she gave him her final words and blessed his eye. “In your heart shall burn an unquenchable fire, the only gift I can give to you. One day that fire will spread to protect you, but only your heart will know when the time's right.”

As a fresh Shinobi, Okami was asked to work on the outskirts of the Village. This suited him perfectly, as he was still unsure of what had happened not a year prior. The elusiveness of the family member who saved him bothered him greatly. He was, however, able to put the thought out of his mind easily enough with his work. As the years went by, he had almost forgotten completely about the tragedies that had torn his life apart. Time seemed to blur past the young man, and before he knew it, he was approaching the 5th anniversary of his graduation.

That day, a riot had broken out in a small town outside the Village, Zaraki. He and two recruits were dispatched to investigate and quell the uprising. Approaching the source of the infighting, the three Shinobi were disturbed by what they saw. One of the patrols sent to the outskirts that day had been murdered, their bodies strung up to pikes as the residents of Zaraki engaged in a bloodbath below. Two parties had formed, one clearly supporting this outrage, and one attempting to retrieve the corpses to return them to the Village. Steel hissed against wood as the two newer Shinobi leapt in to join the fracas. Sighing, Okami drew his blade. Increasing his chakra in a display of power in hopes of stopping the riot peacefully, the young leader scanned the battlefield in search of his charges. When he finally found the raw recruits, his face fell in dismay and horror. One of them, a young lady by the name of Nami, was fighting a losing battle against 3 others. She was holding her own, but couldn’t gain any ground. The other, a youth by the name of Hanji, had already met his fate. His mouth twisted into a mask of pain and terror, the recruit plucked helplessly at the spear thrust through his abdomen. Letting out a cry of despair, Okami felt something was off. A sharp pain tore at his eyes as chakra gravitated toward his face. His vision started to fade as he gradually lost control of his body. Opening his mouth, a roar of hatred and agony escaped his throat. An empty voice doubled his own, echoing with the sadistic grin Okami felt widen as he was forced to witness the carnage that ensued. Whispering goodbye to the memories of his friends and family, he faded into the warm abyss that grew within him. 

Opening his eyes, he recognized the inner workings of the hospital. Sitting up, he found his personal belongings, along with a note explaining what had happened. Feeling his face, he felt several scars forming along his lips and cheek. Eyes tearing up, he looked down at the letter form the doctor. They hadn't managed to save his Genin, and it was a fluke that he was still alive. He owed his survival to his heritage, apparently. Standing up, he refused to let the nurse look after the once-smooth skin of his face, wanting to keep the scars. It was worth it, he thought, to always remember his first team. He would never let another one of his comrades die. Ever.



Okami awoke that night to screaming. Rushing out into the family room, he saw his worst nightmare come to life. Laputa had a sword through her gut, laying there as she bled out. Wordlessly, Okami stared at the men above her. Several were staring at him, obviously from Hayato Mamush's gang. Letting out a groan, Okami felt a change coming over him. His vision got so much better it was surreal, the men moving towards him in slow motion. Glaring harshly, he watched the first man blaze into ashes, black flames erupting from his chest. The next was taken out with a swipe of a massive hand made of chakra, and the third was crushed by the second fist. A sword materialized itself from nowhere, and that night was covered in blood, screams, and Okami's tears.


The next morning, the Police Force found all 50 of the gang members slaughtered, and Okami wordlessly clutching Laputa's lifeless corpse. He had saved her that day in the woods, had nursed her once she had found him, had learned everything about Medical Ninjutsu from her, and she was dead. His eyes blazed, the symbol of a trinity amidst the red sclera. He had achieved the Mangekyo Sharingan, his last gift from his beloved...


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