Setting
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It had been but only two weeks since his previous apprentice was taken from him by a sharpened knife. Having lived a short life It seemed to be a terrible waste. The boy had been far too head strong, and much too full of himself. The heated temper, and outlandish behaviors didn’t help much either. Zetsumie sighed heavily shaking his head to dispel the sad thoughts. He shifted those somber eyes downwards on to the sandy grass decorated ground, as he rode further in to the town. The forests edge was now becoming more visible as he left it's snare. The sun’s beams splayed out from the distant horizon. The scent of fresh sea air wafted over him accompanied by cool ocean breezes, brushed over the lush vegetation that surrounded the Town. The towering statue of a male paused here as he fingered the rough leather reigns with in his large calloused hands and dismounted leaving the horse to wander on it's own. He settled those eyes on to the unkempt display ahead of him, eying the dainty creatures that was pushed out on to the stage for display. He simply glanced over setting that piercing gaze of amber upon the unkempt boys and girls. men and women, eying them over, taking in every last detail from head to toe. Their horrid state along with the ragged clothing was nothing short of vile. He turned his gaze way and he started to scan the surrounding area. Zetsumie started towards the stage and easily made his way through the small crowd that had gathered. His sculpted muscles were hidden beneath a black over coat. Heavy, and coarse Hakammas went down to his ankles and he stood on large geta making his towering height even more so imposing upon the smaller folks about him. The markings on his face, along with his height seemed to intimidate anyone who so much as looked his way.
It was impossible to judge distances in the mist, but he had surely come halfway -- each side of the gorge was equally obscured. Taking heart, Sugahara Matsu breathed deep and took another step. The bridge lurched, swayed, buckled -- and dissolved into nothing. Screaming, he fell into blackness.
***** *****
Waking with a cry, the man sat upright from his bedroll. Despite the cool air breathing in from the open window, sweat beaded his face and chest. The beginnings of sunlight peered into the small room, and Matsu was thankful, for he needn't return to sleep. After washing his face with cold water from the wide, shallow bowl filled the night before, he made his hair presentable and donned his clothing, choosing a kimono of dark green, over which he wore a brown hakama from the previous day.
After a simple breakfast of rice porridge, the old genin scholar went about his day with idle chatter with some old acquaintances, then some hours spent working from his small room, calculating the probability of war between two rival shoguns based on the latest field reports from the clan's other ninja. This was his life -- others in the clan gathered the data during their no doubt adventurous escapades throughout the land, and he helped interpret these findings for the Seniors of the council to make their decisions. Few ninja grew up dreaming of this kind of job -- they'd trained too hard to then sit around all their lives -- but for Sugahara Matsu, it was paradise.
His solitude was broken just before thoughts of lunch were finally going to roust him from his seat. The visitor, knocking on the side panel of the open door, was one of the Seniors of the council -- in fact Matsu's own sensei, from all those years ago when he'd first been brought to the hidden clan.
"Koza-san," he greeted with surprise and delight, for it wasn't often that his old master was able to make time to see him. "What an unexpected pleasure!" He stood with more spring in his heavy step than usual -- subconsciously eager to please the old man even now. Arashiyami Kozaburo smiled kindly as he entered the small room, moving carefully at his distinguished age. "Matsu-san," he greeted. "I think once hearing my news you will not find my visit pleasurable at all." He spoke seriously, although still with a smile. The younger man assured his old sensei that he would be glad of the visit, whatever the reason, although in his heart he was wary. What news could he bring that would affect lowly Sugahara Matsu?
"As you know, we in the council are ever-grateful for your contributions," he said, waving away his old student's self-effacing reply. "However, it is my fear that you have been too long from the outside world, and I have elected for you to return to it with a mission." In his hands he held the small black leather tube -- no wider than a finger, no longer than a hand -- that held the specifics of this mission in a coded scroll discernible only to another of the clan. Matsu's hand did not tremble as he accepted the dispatch, but his tightened jaw set his noticeable jowls trembling.
"I don't understand, Kozaburo-sensei," he said, lapsing from the usual familiarity with which he now spoke with his old master, slipping back into the title from when he was but a child. "What have I done to disappoint the council?"
"Now, now," the Senior replied, again waving his hand as though to dismiss Matsu's thoughts, "it will do you good, Matsu-san. You will return better for your travels. Didn't you once tell me that 'he who returns from a journey is not the same man as he who left?' " Matsu shook his head -- the quote was unfamiliar to him, and if he didn't remember something it was usually because he'd never heard it before.
"No, well, I'm sure that it is nonetheless true," the old man replied gaily, even going so far as to place his hand warmly on the scholar's shoulder. "I expect you to be on your way by tomorrow morning!" Arashiyami Kozaburo added as he left Matsu's small room. Although the few bits of furniture and the many scraps of paper looked the same, the old scholar looked around him as though a tornado had blown through the room. "But I'm a genin!" he called after a moment of silence.
Despite being over fifty years old, Sugahara Matsu had never passed up in the ranks of the clan from the standard ninja, which meant that he couldn't go on missions of his own.
"Then you had better find a chunin!" came the amused response.
Looking around him in dismay, Matsu finally sighed and resigned himself to his fate. He was a realist, and if the council wanted him to leave, he would of course go. No doubt his mission was to pick up some herbs from a shop in the nearest town, or deliver a letter to one of the council member's distant friend. He cracked the seal on the dispatch, sliding out the encrypted scroll.
"Oh my..." he muttered after reading the missive. Surely there had been some mistake? Reading again, the old scholar verified the code. "Oh my..." he said again, before returning the scroll to its slim leather tube before secreting that within his robes. Where would he find a chunin this reckless?
Zetsumie dropped a bag on to the wooden table, currency spilling out of its mouth. Without saying a word it seemed he had won over the tiny 'female' who was currently on stage. Not a person seemed to want to try and out bid him. The smaller was soon pulled off the stage and his rope binds were offered to Zetsumie. Sill silent as the grave he took the coarse rope in hand and started to walk away from the auction dragging the smaller with him if he had to. He headed through town not so much as glancing at his newly purchased child. It wasn't too long before the tiny creature was being pulled towards a building. The towering statue of a man paused here as he fingered the rough rope with in his hands. He simply glanced back over his shoulder setting that piercing gaze of amber upon the unkempt boy eyeing him over in his horrid state along with the ragged clothing. He turned his gaze away and he started to scan the surrounding area. Not a word was spoken from the man since the purchase.
Upon entering through the nari curtain the frivolous scent of flowers filled the hair. He walked over to the shop keeper who was incidentally an elderly woman with a pleasant smile. "Clean this sow's ear up good." He ordered in a gruff deep tone of voice, as he placed some currency upon the counter. He then glanced back at the boy pausing to just gaze down upon him for a few moments. Zetsumie turned upon the young-ling completely and setting his other hand on the rope pulling to boy incredibly close. The dark male came closer, bending a deal, nearly eye to eye with the younger. "You will behave and let them work," Came the next order. It was curt and simple. He pulled the rope at the tie making the coarse, harsh, bit of binding in, in an almost unbearable manner before he continued. "If you do not behave. . . " he simply trailed off before suddenly the binds broke releasing his the child's hands completely. "There are worse things than rope." he assured. Zetsumie had a concealed knife in his hands just barely glinted as he slipped it back in to the pocket that lined his inner sleeve. He straightened and set a hand on the boy's shoulder turning him around gently to face three other women. These were much younger and seemed to be waiting for him. Zetsumie gently ushered the young boy forward-a silent signal that now it was time for him to go with them. "Be sure to clean him up real good: He needs to be pretty." Zetsumie called to the bath house attendants, as the girls attempted to lead the boy in to the back and away from Zetsumie.
Zetsumie watched the boy go a bit nervously yet very willing to obey after a small incident like that. The girls took him in to the back where they had steaming baths' drawn. The lead the younger male over to a washing station and offered him a stool to take a seat on . His clothing being taken off and set aside. A bucket of scrub brushes and all sorts of instruments were soon brought over. He was going to be primped like a prized pet it seemed. A warm bucket of water would soon be dumped over his head to help loosen up the grime. One girl getting to work on his Hair, another on his hands cloning an, cutting, and filing his nails, the other on his feet working out any grime from beneath his toe nails. Any calluses would soon be sanded away his nails would be buffed to perfection, his body scrubbed, His wounds dresses and his hair cleaned. The girls were good at what they did and they were as gentle as they could be trying to make light of the situation. Mean while Zetsumie had left and headed back in to the market place in search of better attire for the boy. The first little area he came across was selling beautiful kimonos and Yukatas. Zetsumie selected a shinny one made some soft silk. It was a soft white in color with cornflower blue, and lavender flower and butterfly patterns speckling the edges the airy garment. It had a stunning fade effect. The center was the lightest and the edges faded in to violet. A soft blue obi and a hair sash to go along with it as well as some silk china shoes with cream colored tabi. This would surely be more than comfortable. After purchasing the garments he took them back to the shop and asked that they be put on the boy and his current clothing be burned. Hopefully he decided not to give them too much trouble. It wasn't too long before he was dried off and the girl brought in the soft silken set of clothes. The young ladies went about their work quietly as possible speaking only to inform one another over small details or to pass a tool or something. The gently treated what wounds they could and bandaged them nicely. They slipped on the tabi and shoes. It was oddly a near perfect fit- perhaps a smidge loose. The top came next and that was tied neatly before they stood him up and tied the obi in to a butterfly bow. His hair was combed out and tied back in to a nice ponytail with the blue sash. Rose Oil was soon rubbed in. It was relayed to the boy that the man who brought him had given the set of clothing to be dressed in. It was strange that there seemed to be no undergarments accompanying it. This seemed to have the girls all giggly. Once he was fully dressed in the soft clothing the girls seemed to do a once over as if to make sure everything was in proper order. The girls giggled ever so softly offering their opinions on how cute he looked before one of them offered to escort him back to the front. The elder male had went to retrieve his steed. He left the large black beast outside as he waited patiently for the boy to be returned to him.
Once Masao was escorted out Zetsumie simply shifted his attention on to the tiny creature. The tall man didn't seem to have a pleasant expression.
Zetsumie raised up his free hand all the way up to the smaller's face and ghosted the back of his knuckles over the his face, right above the eyebrow. He turned his hand and softly stroke the side of that cheek. The elder had a few scars that marred his own visage, and sevral hidden beneath his clothing lacing his body. Three visible ones on his face were the most noticeable. However they looked as if his own eye shouldn't still be around and yet it was. It looked to be in perfectly normal condition where as the scars for the past foretold an entirely different story. "This... will do." He stated simply and set his heavy hand upon the boy's shoulder. He suddenly plucked the smaller up and carted him back outside where Zetsumie seated Masao on the horse's back. The animal seemed calm and sweet with an nonchalant behavior about it. The animal must have been used to carrying heavier weights as it paid no mind what so ever to the young boy who was just seated upon it's back spreading Masao's legs over the saddle in a semi compromising position. "You'll stay there; least you get filthy once again. " He explained and took the horse's reigns in to his hand. He started towards the forest's edge once more getting away from any signs of civilization. "If you feel like you're going to fall don't be affright to grab on to the saddle or Kuro's mane... he's used to children pulling on him." Zetsumie explained. It should have been apparent that Zetsumie wanted him to look the way he did and that he wanted him to stay free of dirt. Rather than continuing to drag him along he actually placed the boy upon his own animal and walked himself. It was as if Zetsumie was treating him as something special, something to keep good care of.
For a while it seemed as though they traveled in silence. They had passed through the dappled lighting of the forest. The scent of the ocean soon whipping it's way back in to the air. The sound of crashing waves against the shore soon came from the distance. It was starting to get dark. They walked for a nice long while atop the cold sands of the beach. The sun setting in the far distance painted a beautiful picture across the sky. The soft sound of birds settling down for the evening could be hear around them. It was a rather tranquil feel. Mountains could be seen in the distance along the shore line. After a deal of travel it began to grow dark as the sun fully nestled it's way beyond the horizon. Large rocks had appeared near the forest edge. This is where Zetsumie stopped. He slipped the long verdant sash from his attire and mover towards the boy. He gently turned him about and tied the shad nicely blinding the child. "You are not to take this off." He explained before stepping away and soon the horse was moving again. "What is your name child?" He asked as the terrain shifted from the smooth sand on to something rougher.
Masao was certainly frightened of the man. He honestly didn't know what to think. He was just bought and dolled up- now he was lead in to what seemed like the middle of nowhere. He did his best to remain silent and behave well and prayed he would not be subjected forcefully in to being the recipient of carnal desires. He swallowed hard and replied in a raspy voice. "Masao..."
As Zetsumie lead the large animal he spoke, "My name is Zetsumie ( Death). Zetsumie Aku ( Evil ).You will refer to me as /Master/. You are expected to obey all the house rules. You are expected to obey what directions I give you, and you are expected to follow them closely. "You will not attempt to leave the compound under any circumstances. And I'm looking forward to working you /hard/." It would be several minutes before they'd slow down as the approached a large set of statues standing before an impressive stone maze. The entrance was in the form of a grave yard. Upon the large stone out front which appeared to be a grave marker. Zetsumie took a breath and read the words aloud as he moved taking up the reigns with in his right hand. "The young fox cried, looking to the sky, up on kurai mountain. If you dare to step inside, your entrance will be denied. It's here where the Fox bestows his wrath, on a dark and lonely path, on a dark and lonely night, a thousand spirits circling a burning light, a flower's in the hand that holds the chopsticks, beware there may be a few nasty tricks. I am but a messenger who brings this tragic tale, heed my words you who may try to steal my treasure, for I'll haunt you forever and ever. . . " And with that the sound of the horse's hooves met stone as Zetsumie lead them through it was only a few more minutes before he paused. They were through the stone maze and at the entrance of the Spirit Fox's compound. Zetsumie untied the blind fold and set it atop the saddle for the time being. They were at the large gates and the night watch over top sat up lighting a small fire. Soon the gates were opened for them and Zetsumie started in side. Someone was there to take his horse from him. A quiet and quick offered words of welcome home were given as Zetsumie handed off the reigns. He plucked the smaller off the horse and set him on his feet upon a small graveled path way. It was as if they were in a large complex. There were a few people about in the distance lining the walls with dim lanterns. Most of the lights in the buildings were out. "This is your new home." He explained gently. "Everyone here is now considered your family." He watched patiently letting the boy take in his surroundings and letting his words truly sink in.
"That is unless you fancy the idea of being burning alive, dragged to death by a horse, or worse; then be my guest... We do not speak of our profession freely." He explained as he stepped in to the dim lit kitchen. "Sit down." He gesture towards a seating area. In no time and got out what he needed to prepare a nice hot meal for the two of them even brewing some tea. "As for other apprentices..." he trailed. "I have none." he explained. " I'd say you are about two or three winters the youngest I've had. " Zetsumie explained gently as he poured some oil in to a large wok, the sound s of sizzling soon filling the evening air. "You shall meet with the elders soon: For tonight you shall be bedding with me... tomorrow and then on you will be placed in to your own room." He said avoiding using a name.
For now Masao remained rather silent and offered his attention intently being eased in to this vast amount of information.
It was good to finally be home. Zetsumie thought.
With a sigh, she continued on her way -- heading for the briefing office to see if there was a new mission for her. This last week there had been nothing, and so she'd retreated from the Spirit Fox village to the seclusion of the surrounding woods, there to train in solitude. Now that she was a chunin, the young kunoichi felt uncomfortable with anyone seeing her train -- she was supposed to be the best of the best! Despite her expectations, she had not distinguished herself as a chunin the way she had as a youngling, or even genin. So she continued her training, but did so in solitude.
"Ho! Miya-chan," came a voice from the briefing office, as the man stepped out from the doorway, to stand outside the office as he prepared a pipe to smoke. "Don't call me so informally, idiot!" she growled. Aoyama Tomoki was from her age group in childhood training, and was a junior officer now, although still a genin. He helped his masters prepare the missions -- he verified the secret code that the missives were written in, to ensure there were no errors in the transcription.
"Sorry, Miyazaki-sama," the young man said with a bow, although his smile and the way he flourished his pipe with his bow made it obvious he was joking around. Miyazaki glared at him as she stepped into the office. When she came out a few minutes later, she was demure and composed once more, as she turned to him with a batting lash.
"Tomo-kun," she cooed sweetly, moving as though she was either going to kiss him or tell him a secret. When the boy leaned forward expectantly, she grabbed his ear. "Where are the good missions!?" she shouted. "You're hiding them for your friends, aren't you!" He pulled himself from her grasp, cleaning off the front of his robes that had spilled kizami tobacco down the front. "Of course not, Miya-chan," he growled as he rubbed his ear. "There were plenty of missions on the board -- just not any good ones for a chunin of your rank. Maybe if you..." he trailed off before finishing the sentence, and the hotheaded kunoichi didn't know if he was purposefully taunting her or not. It was true -- there had been some three- and four-star missions, even a rare five-star, but nothing posted for her current second-rank status.
"Why don't you take a genin or two with you?" Tomoki asked. "That way you can be cleared for a higher mission rank?"
It was a fair point, but not one that Miyazaki wished to think about. She'd never led a team of genin on a mission before, and she couldn't explain why. She acted like it was because they would only slow her down, but she feared that deep down, this was just an evasion from the truth. That she wouldn't be good enough to do it.
Zetsumie finished the meager meal and placed a bowl before Masao and one across from him. Soon two tea cups were placed. It seemed that since Zetsumie had learned the boys name he eased in to a more comfortable state. He didn't quiet feel at rest among the more feminine girls around the compound. They made him uneasy. The thoughts of making a fool out of himself in front of them bothered him greatly and he avoided particular ones. The more boyish rough types however he didn't seem to mind. It was just something about girls that didn't settle right with the man. He had Masao pegged as a girl at first but now he was starting to like the idea of what seemed to be a very servile boy. And at such a young age the chances of training the lad would work well in his favor. "Eat up." He said. Sitting near the end of a table in the dining hall meant others could join them or sit further away if they didn't want to intrude.
"Tomoki," he greeted as he climbed the wide, shallow steps that had been built into the small knoll on which the simple hut sat. The young genin waved in wordless greeting. Aoyama Tomoki was thirty years Matsu's junior, but his carefree spirit was a nice match for the older man's kindliness, and so they had become friends of sorts although they didn't associate much. Matsu saw next to his friend stood a slim young slip of a kunoichi, wearing distinct scarlet cowl loose about her neck and shoulders, which placed her to him as Mashio Miyazaki -- the Scarlet Slash, as the youngsters had taken to calling the newly-raised chunin. Matsu's nicknames unfortunately had generally been jests if not outright insults, but he gathered that the girl had been something of a prodigy of her age group.
"Good afternoon," he greeted, prompting Tomoki to make formal introductions between the two. The girl, upon hearing his name, did not successfully hide the dismissive look in her eyes. Matsu did not blame her -- few things clashed as strongly as the up-and-coming of a younger generation with the downward-sliding of the older. Perhaps she even thought him resentful.
"Forgive my intrusion, but if you are here for a mission I have one that you may wish to consider," he said as he reached into the sleeve of his robe, withdrawing the slim black dispatch and offering it to the girl. It was his opinion that the mission called for a certain recklessness uncharacteristic of his many chunin acquaintances. But recklessness was practically synonymous with youth, and by reputation this Scarlet Slash was perhaps just the chunin he needed to lead him on this dratted mission.
"No offense, Matsu-san, but did you steal this from someone?" the briefing office genin said, half-serious, half-joking. Miyazaki had to agree -- Sugahara Matsu was the oldest genin in the Spirit Fox village by far, and they all knew that there must be some reason for his inability to rise to chunin. Some thought cowardice, but Miyazaki guessed incompetence, plain and simple. Glancing down at the missive again, she couldn't understand why this sort of mission would be given to a man such as he.
Still, it had been weeks since her last mission, and Miyazaki was eager to return to the field. If she was to grow her reputation as a legendary kunoichi, she couldn't do it with the occasional two-star mission that dribbled out of the briefing office like thawing snow. No, she would take this mad quest with the fat old scholar genin beside -- and when she returned successful she would be recognized as a full-fledged chunin second to none, and not some burned out child prodigy.
"Very well, Matsu-chan," she agreed, choosing the suffix that would establish their relationship from the beginning: despite being over thirty years her senior, she was the chunin and he the genin, and he would know it. She didn't need some doddering grandfather trying to pull free from her every command. "We leave at sunrise tomorrow."
“Forgive me, did I hear mention of a mission?”
When the gloomy orbs latched to Mashio there grew a disdain in Akimoto’s face. Even the confines of his somen could not soften the disappointment that marched over him. The child prodigy and the faux samurai were defined almost exclusively as opposites. Though he did not hate Mashio, he did resent her natural talent and helplessly decisive instincts. Both were newly minted Chunin and worse still both graduated to their ranks at similar times. From Akimoto’s perspective, he had to fight to gain every inch of ground, and by his mind this girl just floated through on remarkable aptitude. They were not rivals as far as he believed, just opposing lifestyles with unfortunate timing. If anyone had to guess however, Akimoto’s bitterness stem almost entirely from jealousy.
“Perhaps Matsu-sama would prefer the aid of a senior,” the cold eyes ratcheted between the three conversationalists, settling lastly on poor Sugahara.
“Growing old is inevitable, growing up is optional.”
A personal stab filled with empty words. Akimoto was only a year older, and hardly a senior in his field by comparison. Yet he certainly didn’t act that way. Holding his body rigid and looking over the situation with a false grandiose air. A nose upturned in a bluff. Quietly hoping to pull the mission free and have it become part of his own dealings.
Normally the shinobi would take heed for the rebuke in messing with other’s affairs, but such an opportunity could hardly be passed up. Missions of late held little honor or even challenge, how could Akimoto wear his father’s armor if he wasn’t winning renown with it? For both the village and his love he strove for recognition. If not by his peers then perhaps by those unfortunate to meet him? Feared, treasured, or even hated so long as it gave his nodachi meaning, and cemented the Tsugaru name. A selfish indulgence he realized, but his fame was his clan’s fame and therefore justified by his own terms.
Sugahara Matsu on the other hand, knew little of the two except for name and some reputation. "Tomo-san," he asked, "is there an established way that we deal with circumstances such as these, when two parties lay claim to leadership of a mission?" For his wide-ranging education, the fat old scholar knew little of the practical matters in these areas, loathe as he was to ever leave on such missions.
"Hai," the briefing office genin agreed, glancing between the two chunin glowering at each other -- the armored-nin as impassible as a mountain, the kunoichi as unforgiving as a thunderstorm. "A duel can be declared. Muketsu, of course." There were various levels of duels with established names and rules in the hidden village, and muketsu, or 'bloodless,' referred to one that was somewhere between practice sparring and deadly intent. For a muketsu duel the opponents were allowed the full range of their weapons and armor, but were sworn to stop short of serious injury. Still, mistakes happened, which was why muketsu duels were allowed only to chunin and jonin, and always required an impartial judge/witness.
"I dislike having to solve problems with violence," Matsu declared, rubbing the pointed beard he kept neatly trimmed on his chin. "But there is some wisdom in this, perhaps. It will be good to know what to expect of one another out on the field. Akimoto Tsugaru," he said formally, turning to the armored-nin, "unless you wish to withdraw your challenge to Mashio Miyazaki, I will be third-party to your duel." He turned to Miya, whose look was inscrutable.
Then when all the apprehension ebbed from his mind, Akimoto snapped to attention returning to the steps of the office. He nodded in acceptance toward Aoyama. He wasn’t sure if the Scarlet Slash would return such eagerness.
“I will not lie to you Miyazaki-san. I want muketsu not only for the right to the mission, but to prove that you are unworthy.”
Calmly and perhaps with great audacity, Akimoto began to unsling the great nodachi from his back. There was no sheath and the long blade was bound in thick cloth, wrapped with silken ties and fastened lastly by rope. It was a weapon of important ceremony to the armored-nin the blade that had drank of blood before he was born. He hefted it gingerly and laid it lovingly against the office building.
“I believe you are a child still. That your talents will fail you, and the lives of those in your care will be endangered by such indulgence.”
A deep breath heaved through his chest. The air was still crisp and smelled of the earth and surrounding forest. His fingertips flowed down his armor, masquerading as a check for weakness or loose ends. In truth he was adjusting the kunai stashed beneath his garments for easy access. Honor dictated he could not draw his nodachi unless against a foe. He would require other methods of defense, and it was important to be ready.
“You will prove me wrong, or admit your incompetence.”
Masao kept offering shy little glances towards the man over looking those brutal scars on what would otherwise be a rather handsome face. That serious predatory look left Masao feeling unsettled as he just stared him down. It was like a viper staring down a cornered field mouse. He surely thought this man liked to pick fights or was truly reckless in the face of danger. Something about those healed over wounds kept Masao wanting to stare almost transfixed by such an uncommon sight he'd never seen before and never that close. He did look away feeling ashamed however when he noticed Zetsumie locking eye contact with him. Once the boy finished his bowl Zetsumie pushed the still untouched bowl towards him. "Keep eating- your too thin." In truth Masao was looking rather ghastly on the verge of emaciation.
Zetsumie reached in to his coat and pulled out a small bound set of papers and a bit of charcoal and scribbled a few things down. He then moved to stand. "Stay here." He instructed before making his way through the building. He needed to inform the seniors of his new charge and the new member to their family. Most children avoided Zetsumie and many others preferred to simply step out of his way without notice. He had the sort of effect of an executioner walking through a crowed. Although Zetsumie's own master was associated with the council very much it was more often than not he was doled out the worst missions rather than favoritism. And for those that were voluntarily Zetsumie often opted for the most dangerous sorts. A few times he'd come back several days later than any of his comrades after having injured himself.
He paused stepping outside and seeing the little group congregating just outside the one building Seniors and Council members often chose to conduct their business, condensate, and plan. He was hoping to talk to his own master, Tatsuo rather than the actually clan leader- Tentei. Zetsumie often made a point of avoiding Tentei. Tenyei wasn't quiet old enough to be a senior and in fact was seen in his prime. However he was a great leader and wise well beyond his years; his qualities, contributions, and willingness to hear others out have helped him in gaining his current role as Clan Leader. The man also had no trouble putting his foot down with people like Zetsumie so certainly there was friction between the two, even if Tentei was only a few years Zetsumie's elder.
Zetsumie breathed in a breath watching the two young pups who seemed to be rather full of uppity energy judging by their body language. Zetsumie moved along the decks rather than stepping out on to the ground making his way towards Matsu. He had a feeling he was about to see a playground scuffle between the two pups. What they may have been squabbling about was still unclear to Zetsumie after all he only just arrived. But then again when he saw those younger than himself about ready to brawl in the middle of the compound Zetsumie couldn't help but intervene just a smidge to see what was going on. From what he knew of these two he had Mashio pegged as second blood and Akimoto as a first blood. Meaning Akimoto was more than likely an instigator where as Mashio was willing to step up to a challenge. "Hello there Matsu-san; Rained on ground hardens . " Zetsumie greeted putting on a somewhat strained smile which melted in to a slightly mischievous smirk. Like poking at a sleeping bear Zetsumie cleared his throat and called in a sickeningly sweet tone, "Aki-kun~! " He was teasing him even though he was only perhaps seven years his elder.
She turned to stalk away toward an empty patch of grass on the common grounds, when Zetsumie Aku showed up -- instantly recognizable because of his size and distinguishing scars. The legendary shinobi teased Akimoto, and Miyazaki would have been pleased were she not slightly terrified of Zetsumie. Despite wanting to prove herself as legendary as he one day, for now she was happy being beneath the notice of those penetrating copper eyes.
She continued on toward the grass, sure that Akimoto would follow. When she reached the area that was clear of obstructions and other villagers for several dozen paces, she turned back around. Before the duel she spent a few moments preparing herself, chiefly by removing her distinct scarlet cowl. It would serve no purpose in such a duel, except for the long tail to give her opponent something to grapple. She rummaged through her hip pouch to take a quick inventory, then unsheathed her ninjato from its jet black, lacquered wooden scabbard.
Seeing that the armored-nin had discarded his nodachi, she assumed the sorasaya stance, which would give her strikes the longest reach with her modest sword. "Ready," she declared to Sugahara Matsu, the duel's required judge. If and when Akimoto Tsugaru declared the same, the fat old scholar would announce the fight with a sharp cry.
Their duel was underway when the most uncommon of shinobi made his presence known. Zetsumie was a name affiliated with great wonder and fear. At times elders would spin fictional tales of his accomplishments bemusing themselves to terrorize ignorant Genin. As you grew older, Zetsumie became less fantastic but more deadly. Highly respected, but taken with caution he was after all a killer, and one of the best the clan had ever produced.
Worse still he was toying with Akimoto. The young man froze in place and his head bobbed slightly masking his face from view. Perhaps a jest but Akimoto saw the remark as insulting. To be a junior to Zetsumie wasn’t unusual, but to be taunted as though he were a child was hurtful to his pride. Especially when given by someone of such high regard, even if Zetsumie was more infamous than anything else.
Akimoto wheeled about on his heel and faced Zetsumie. His dim orbs swallowed the brilliance of the sun in their reflection, leaving nothing exposed behind them. Steadily those gloomy eyes locked with the illustrious copper of the fabled shinobi. A smile creased his lips etching itself through the somen and produced such an uncanny expression that none could believe the sincerity of such a grin.
“Good morning Aku-sama! Forgive me, but I must be on my way.”
There were some that would have considered such small talk a dangerous omen. To so casually address death itself and to look him in the eye, others could not do such a thing. It was an uninformed thought; the shinobi was flesh and blood like everyone. Given the situation Akimoto simply had no time to address even a man with ability like his. So off he went, placing his back to the office building. A scowl reforming the moment he was sure Zetsumie could no longer see.
When he at last arrived to the destination of his duel he found his adversary making final adjustments. He mimicked these actions and quietly ran a few mantras through his mind. Once Mashio declared herself ready, Akimoto revealed his opening move. Both of his arms rose up with open hands, the right leading out ahead. His off foot positioned back and the entirety of his lower torso was bowed, both knees bent to allow fluidity. To those with a keen eye Akimoto was taking a type of Aikido stance. A martial art primarily used to disable an enemy without harm by using their own force and momentum against them.
The ninja claimed no mastery to any school of combat; he remained a dabbler of many techniques and philosophies. He was known for his capabilities in both Kenjutsu and Taijutsu but remained independent from specific arts. Instead he mixed and matched as deemed appropriate and while this served to give him great flexibility, against a true master he would find himself outpaced.
“… Ready.”
The disadvantage to such a sudden flurry of strikes and thrusts is that, if you are not careful you can find your own positioning turned against you, so if Akimoto were to withstand her initial lightning attacks without giving her an opening, she would attempt to disengage and leap back a few paces, to reevaluate her strategy accordingly.
***** *****
The fat old scholar gave the signal for the muketsu duel to begin. Keeping his eye on the fight, he spoke to Zetsumie with a conspiratorial whisper. "Are you interested in leading a mission of mine, Zetsu-san?" If the legendary shinobi said no, then the winner of the duel would be none the wiser. If he agreed -- well, either Miya or Akimoto were welcome to challenge him for the leadership. Matsu's small lips twitched with a smile at the thought. Duels with Zetsumie were quite rare, but the quick bouts were always as entertaining for the spectators as they were educational for the loser.
Some might see dishonor in asking Zetsumie to take leadership despite the duel being contended, but the success of the mission and the security of the clan as a whole trumped such considerations.
Yet, he held. The blood that rushed through him felt as though a thousand horses were running the course of his veins. Mashio was so fast, and he had even less then a second to react. Many times he gave up blocking and allowed a blow to bounce from his armor. The impact stung, but he could find no solution at times within the haze and the fury it held within. His feet found ground however, and he would offer no purchase.
At once he found himself compromised, his legs uneven unable to keep his strength rolling up through his torso. Awkwardly he stumbled back, and just as he realized his fate the ninjato lashed out like a viper. A second late was more then enough time to shinobi, and while Akimoto threw himself from his vantage the sting of metal bit into his shoulder. Quietly he cursed to himself and hopped back once more letting fly a kunai hilt first into the smoke where he believed his opponent was hiding.
Shortly the Scarlet Slash emerged opposite himself, and he watched idly in their waiting. The cut that dug into his left shoulder wasn't anything to be worried of, but it would cost him when the judge made his choice. Without effort he withdrew another kunai and held the blade down flat to his wrist, knowing well it could be used to block the ninjato.
The faux samurai bounded toward Mashio knowing well that she was far faster than himself. Rather then attempt to corner the kunoichi he employed a different kind of tactic. Opening into combat with an obvious fist, but throwing it low intentionally, using the leverage gained to turn his body and let fly a kick from above. With any luck his heel would come crashing down on its intended target, but it hardly mattered for Akimoto was ready to keep into melee combat. With his blocking arm raised to intercept her blade, he would continue to push the fight toward a physical brawl, where he believed he held the advantage.
Her eyes widened when the armored-nin revealed the feint, as his weighty kick came flying from above. Even as she attempted to block or evade she marveled at her rival's speed and power, knowing she wouldn't be able to block the blow in time. She grunted and fell to her knees as the strike took her in the shoulder -- only by dropping and turning it into a roll was she able to safely absorb the bone-breaking force, but pain shrieked through her shoulder nonetheless as she rolled back to her feet, ninjato discarded in the grass.
Before she was able to retrieve another kunai, Akimoto was upon her, pressing his advantage with a series of blows that she did her best to avoid or deflect. If her earlier attacks had been a lightning storm, his were an avalanche, and she found herself giving up ground with every step to avoid being buried. Pushed farther and farther back in the area they had cleared for the muketsu duel, Miya desperately countered with the occasional jab or kick, whenever his slower attacks gave her faster strikes an opening. These attacks fell uselessly off his armor like drops of rain off a mountain summit.
Hoping that his strength would soon be flagging after the assault, Miyazaki rode out the attacks as best she could, waiting for her chance to end this. Unable to use her right arm without considerable pain, she was forced to defend with her left and dodge whenever she could. Finally an opening revealed itself, and the Scarlet Slash countered with her injured right arm, hoping the move would be unanticipated.
Pain flooded through her shoulder, and light-headed she vaguely wondered if it was dislocated. Her vision tunneled as she swooned, and her last thought was of whether or not her blow had even landed. She would find out when she came to just a few moments later.
It was a feat that very few had ever accomplished, for his armor was thick and his determination thicker. Still there he was drawing heaving breaths and clutching at his chest. At once he pulled his helmet from his head, and lobbed the kabuto aside. Allowing fresh air to help sooth his nerves and ease the adrenaline.
Eventually he came to stand and faced Mashio once more. The features of his face going taut and stern. There was much to remark upon, but he refused to give any transparent views into his personal thoughts. The shinobi had always been this way, and so it would continue. Yet as difficult as he was to approach or even understand one could not deny that his conduct was always at least proper. He gave a deep bow of respect, and had felt no reason to continue the duel. The prodigy was mightier then he guessed, and by his own shortcomings had he felt defeat.
Of course the duel had yet to be judged, but his honor and pride already decided. He had failed to overcome the kunoichi and the only solution would be to train. Suddenly the mission felt insignificant now having tested the limits of his capabilities. Of course he would not decline if offered to take the mission, but the importance of outpacing Mashio just grew dramatically.
"Do you require medical attention?"
There wasn't a hint of concern nor kindness in his voice, he had asked more as a customary obligation. Already guessing the appropriate response while watching Mashio's movement. Theirs had been a glorious duel, it would be a shame to lose a decent opponent because of some silly complication.
Like the armored-nin, Miya was her own harshest critic, and where two good friends would have congratulated each other on their successes, it appeared that these two could only see their own defeat in the duel. Finally, unable to postpone any longer, she made her way over to Sugahara Matsu, ready to hear him declare her defeat. That it was the fat old scholar as the judge somehow made the anticipated blow sting all the more.
"11-9 Akimoto-sama," the scholar declared, pointing to the armored-nin as the winner. Miya tched, angry at hearing the results though not surprised. The numbers themselves didn't mean anything -- it was the ratio between them that told the story. A decisive victory could have been two-to-one, or maybe even a three-to-two ratio. Anything smaller was hardly conclusive, and barely even worth the title of victor. 11-to-9 was essentially tossing a coin to declare the winner. Let the faux-samurai have his hollow victory, she thought bitterly.
((Not sure if Zetsumie will agree to lead the mission or not, so I'm leaving it there. Depending on Zetsu's response, Matsu will either give Akimoto the black dispatch with the missive inside, or tell the two chunin that Z's in charge.))
***** *****
The missive was simple. Any child could read the basic characters that spoke of a man who was going to be going to the city to look for work. In it he asked for his love to be given to the recipient's family, and made other sentimental gestures before concluding. Rather a simple message, to hide such a fateful mission. Translated from the code that the Spirit Fox clan used to encrypt their missives, and the small paper scroll said something else entirely. Even now, despite having verified the message numerous times, Matsu wondered whether or not there had been some mistake.
Investigate and verify claim that Emperor Hasegawa's son Shuhei is gripped by a kami-spirit.
Depending on outcome, hold position and report for further instructions.
Leave no trace of presence.
Even this transcribed message seemed laden with unspecified undertones, although Matsu was no expert on such things. 'Leave no trace of presence' never needed to be stated to a Spirit Fox shinobi -- when it was specified it generally meant that there was a possibility of assassination. He trembled at the thought of being involved in a mission to kill an Imperial Prince, especially the 10-year-old Shuhei.
"We start on the morrow," he said to the others involved. Although the oldest of them all he was by far the least experienced in field work, and a genin besides. He was glad to hand the reins over to the new mission leader. Still unsure of why the his old sensei Arashiyami Kozaburo had sent him on this mission, he would do his best to stay out of the way and leave the work to the more skillful of the party.
Zetsumie pushed off the wall and took a few steps before he hopped down from the walk way and started towards the pair as the duel came to an end. An ever so faint smile lacing his lips on that marred visage. To be honest smiles really didn't suit the man and tended to give people and eerie feeling. "Aki-kun; you did well." he praised lightly as he stepped on over to Miya.
Without warning or ceremony he reached out and took her wrist and with surprising gentleness, turned her arm this way or that giving her a once over.
"Ichigo and his 'imp' may be queer but I'm sure you know as well as I, that the pair can help with many ailments. " Zetsumie said before gently returning to her, her arm and wrist. Zetsumie didn't quite care much for that short imp Ichigo kept by his side. Ever since he was younger he stayed clear of that short boy who still as tall as a nine year old runt. Nekura Naraku (Dark natured Hell)was the name of that strange 'creature'. The elongated ears and vivid flaming red locks were strange enough paired with those vivid green orbs. But the two preferred to live in a separated building in the compound off near one of the far walls. Now that Zetsumie was older he could look down upon that strange imp. Even Ichigo was a strange one. A flamboyant male with exceedingly maternal actions. It was no wonder he chose to heal their wounded or sick. Ichigo was willing to brave vicious storms that ripped trees from the ground to visit a sick member of the clan. A willowy slim build partnered with vividly bright kimonos and yukatas meant that Ichigo could often be mistaken for a you Maiko (Apprentice Geisha). It wasn't any of these qualities that struck Zetsumie off guard and made him cautious of the pair. It was the fact that time seemed to ignore the two. When Zetsumie was much younger he knew Ichigo looked to be in his very early twenties and Nekura looked to be a youthful eight year old at most. Now that Zetsumie was a deal older Ichigo still looked to be in his early twenties and Nekura has seemed to have aged a year if at all. "Even shinobi with otherwise fatal wounds are returned to near perfect health upon visiting them."
Zetsumie added as he turned on his heel and returned to the sanded wooden decks. "Matsu-san I've brought home a new child and I've yet to inform the council. I've already a child to look after for the evening. Come the morrow if you wish for me to accompany you, I will." He offered. Zetsumie was leaving this choice entirely up to Matsu If there was some sort of test involved Zetsumie wouldn't be meddling. Although he assumed by tomorrow he would be able to find someone to keep a watchful eye upon Masao if Zetsumie's presence was requested.
"Though a word of advice. . . " He trailed. "If the missive calls for physical skill as well as mental I suggest a sure decision where no wear or tear on your accompanying partner take place... Perhaps a little 'childish' but I think stone, parchment, shears would have sufficed. " He explained. A team should be well rested and ready to go with as little distractions as possible. " he concluded as he made his way towards the his destination.
Zetsumie poked around the council building and found Tatsuo nowhere in sight. With a heavy sigh of annoyance he headed off in search of the fossil. Zetsumie poked his head in to several dojos and saw a few different activities going on from grappling, to target practice. It was indeed nearing the evening as the sky continued to change. Zetsumie peered about through many areas indoor first before heading out side and spotting a small group gathered around a large Balance beam. The familiar sight of slightly crooked posture accompanied with a cane. Zetsumie paused and watched for a moment or so before slowly approaching the class that was more than likely soon to be coming to a close.
The hour was near of dinner time as Tatsuo walked around the balance beam, two of the students in his class demonstrating their balance while sparring. Ever so often the ebon haired sensei would give them a push with his cane to correct their stance, something the kohai had adjusted to. As the sun began to sink beneath the horizon, Tatsuo paused his pacing and gazed at the sky, set ablaze with orange subtly darkening with each passing moment. He lightly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He then quickly turned and thrust his trusty cane out to catch one of his students as they lost their balance. With a careful push in the right direction, he got them back up onto the beam, "Mind your footing, kohai. Look only to your opponent, or the next thing you see will be the ground." His voice was gentle, not even a slight bit of scolding as he gave his correction, "The better you do, the sooner we can all go get some dinner. And I don't know about you," well, he did actually, "But I am famished! So," He gave the sparring kohai a light bop to the head each with his trusty old walking stick, "Try harder."
Soon enough Tatsuo noticed Zetsumie's approach, and he smiled, turning towards his oldest pupil, "Ahh, if it isn't my most hard-headed student. Have you come to train with the rest of the kohai?" He paused while the younglings failed to restrain a bit of giggling, "Or perhaps you come to inform us that dinner is ready?"
Zetsumie looked about to the mats they had on either side of the beam and raised an eyebrow. "I don't think they will ever learn that way Tatsuo-sama. " Zetsumie said not quite responding to such a jab. "Though I do believe supper is ready. " he added. "Some nice fried rice and steamed pork buns were what I saw when I was there. I have come to request audience with you master."
Tatsuo chuckled at Zetsumie's disapproval of the matts, "Why do you say that? As I recall, you learned rather well." As the younger teacher started to describe dinner, he could practically hear the collective rumble of his class's tummys. He... ignored it for now, instead more intrigued by Zetsumie's formality. Perhaps he simply wanted Tatsuo to send the children away, and deny the elder his most enjoyable hobby; embarrassing his oldest students, "Class is nearly done, my stubborn student. After that I will be happy to speak with you." He cleared his throat and turned back to his students, "Come now, we're almost done."
"Did I mention the tempura black tiger shrimp? Oh and I believe there was some crab Rangoon, Ichigo dafuku, Eel sishimi, fried dumplings, dango...." He trailed with a small shrug raising an eyebrow knowing full well what his words were doing and the power they held. "Oh and I believe tonight's green tea is sweet ginseng with jasmine. " he added in there recalling all the delicacies they were cooking up in the heated kitchen.
Tatsuo listend, and sighed in defeat. He could practically FEEL the burning, pleading gazes of his students peering at him from all directions. Acknowledging Zetsumie's check mate, Tatsuo motioned towards them, "I believe that's enough training for now. Go on, children, but remember to save some for your dear old sensei!" After a small stampede of hungry pupils, the two teachers were alone. He gave Zetsumie a light smack on thigh with his cane, "Well played."
Yes, seemed the stubborn little kohai had learned well over the years. Tatsuo always found ways to embarrass Zetsumie in front of the younger students, because Zetsumie was always his star pupil. The boy had tried keeping his distance and waiting till the teacher was alone to speak with him, but Tatsuo would just call him over. Zetsumie tried to hide, but Tatsuo always found him. It wasn't until Zetsumie was a sensei himself that he learned the art of avoiding Tatsuo's detection until he wanted his old master's attention. Now it was like a game of cat and mouse. Today, Zetsumie won. Tatsuo would just have to REALLY get him next time, "What can I do for you, my child?"
"When I learned I was over a water fall- when I fell I fell twice. " Zetsumie said if only a slight bit sour at Tatsuo for that. "Tatsuo-sensei I've come to inform you of something rather important- seeing as you are a council member and elder and all." Zetsumie explained.
"Eh, the water was blue, the matts are blue, close enough." Tatsuo smiled. Perhaps Zetsumie knew it was because Tatsuo had more confidence in Zetsumie's abilities, or perhaps not. The elder was fine with either way. When he heard something important, however, he nodded, "Come, walk with me. Tell me what is on your mind, my most stubborn of students." and Tatsuo started towards the gardens. Refering to Zetsumie in such a way was actually a term of endearment in Tatsuo's mind, but the elder could see how not many would see it that way. It was his hope that Zetsumie knew him well enough to know what was meant by those words.
Zetsumie nodded and followed Tatsuo along to one of the many garden paths of their compound. "I've brought home a new student to take care of... A new apprentice." To have an apprentice was something a bit more important than training an 'unclaimed' Kohai. To have an apprentice meant you were training someone to eventually fill your shoes. It was much more personal. You took care of your apprentice like he was your own- because they were. The last Apprentice didn't do so well.... or perhaps Zetsumie was to blame for not doing well enough in training his reckless pupil. "This one is shy, and quiet... very obedient I've mistaken him for a girl at first." Zetsumie admitted. "I'd like to make formal note that I have decided to take on this new apprentice." Zetsumie said knowing to topic held heavy on the good qualities as well as the bad.
"Apprentice?" Tatsuo repeated as if to be sure Zetsumie was clear. Carefully he listened, deep in thought a moment. Few were the losses the clan experienced that did not weigh heavily on Zetsumie's heart, but Zetsumie's first apprentice was particularly hard to lose. It was like watching his son raise a boy of his own, and Tatsuo allowed Zetsumie as much freedom as he could in teaching the young one the ways of their clan. Perhaps Tatsuo had allowed his own apprentice, Zetsumie, too much freedom. He did not blame the other sensei, at least he tried his very best not to, but it would taste a lie to say that he didn't feel responsible himself. If he had been more involved, maybe things would have been different. After a bit of thought, Tatsuo nodded, "Good. A new apprentice would do you some good, I think. I should very much like to meet the boy that my most thick-headed son will be taking under his wing." He nudged Zetsumie almost playfully, "Make sure he isn't too delicate to endure your training."
Zetsumie smiled feeling a touch of melancholy. "His name is Masao. . . and he looks like an apparition."
"Apparition, huh?" Tatsuo raised a brow, tempted to make a joke about that being a bad sign, but he opted to keep that to himself, "I'll have to see when I meet him. Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?"
Zetsumie nodded. "Would you perhaps be willing to do me the favor of watching over the child on the morrow?" Zetsumie asked. "I may be called upon and I believe you possess the sort of gentle nature to show such a fragile boy around. " Zetsumie stated. "I think he needs a softer introduction to our family then what I have given him." Zetsumie was either cryptic or blunt.
"You've barely had the boy and already you need Grampa to babysit?" Tatsuo replied, "Though I suppose you have a point. He would indeed be in need of a more kind welcome to our family." He smirked, "Besides, it'll be fun to spoil the boy and send him home for you to deal with; actually... You'll probably break him if I do that, huh?"
Zetsumie chuckled, "Aye you can have your fun with spoiling the boy whilst I'm gone. Thank you."
Once his eyes transcribed the words in the letter he began to understand the hesitance in Sugahara. Such an order was unfitting of the old genin and Akimoto began to sense the dread surrounding the small black print. A kami was no laughing matter, for they possessed knowledge that were beyond this earthly realm. Their minds were alien, and their abilities or intentions were strange and most of the time dangerous.
"They're hiding something..."
It was all the armored-nin had left to say on the matter before casually discarding the scroll. Heading back to retrieve his nodachi and carefully slinging it about him. The morning would mark the start of an irrevocable journey. It was not everyday they engaged the likes of royalty. He silently pondered upon the steps where their adventure started. Starring out into the day with his thoughts meandering around behind his face of stone.
He returned to his hut and gathered a few things that he wouldn't want to leave without, but as the pile grew larger and larger he spent a comparable length of time paring the selections back down to a manageable weight. After this he tidied his room, knowing he might not be returning to it for several months. If at all... he couldn't help but add. Not for the last time he wondered just why he'd been picked for such a mission -- one so obviously out of his depth.
After leaving his small hut Matsu ventured to the stockpile, where a small clutch of people stood in line, requisitioning the many communal items that the clan stored. When his turn finally arrived, he asked for a few weapons that he felt most comfortable with, but the bulk of his requisitioning was in the form of food, supplies, maps and other more practical provisions. Sure he packed several kunai and a bō staff that looked like a peasant's walking stick, but combat simply wasn't his forte and if the likes of Zetsumie, Akimoto and Miyazaki couldn't defend themselves, it was unlikely that his efforts would change the tide.
He returned around the time agreed upon, and waited for the others. Their mission would be a long one -- even reaching the capital would take weeks of hard travel -- and they would have several hard choices along the way. Starting with the direction and manner of their travel...:
"I propose that we travel east to the port town, and commission a coastal boat or fishing trawler that will take us north along the coast and then back west along the river to the capital. Longer, perhaps -- but safer by far." Whether or not the others agreed, he didn't know. His opinion wouldn't weigh heavily in their minds, that he knew.
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