A new generation of shinobi, heirs to their predecessors’ legacies, must rise to face the challenges ahead. Their paths are intertwined with the villages’ fate and the essence of the shinobi way as they confront powerful enemies and unforeseen challenges unlike any before. Welcome to Ninja-Tales, wanderer— we’re glad you found us, and we can’t wait for you to jump into our world.
CRE DITS
NINJA-TALES was designed and created by Mitsurugi, Nugiita, and the NT staff team, with information templates and our banner image created by Tatarigami for use only on NINJA-TALES and not to be replicated or reproduced without permission. Special thanks to Pharaoh Leap for creating this skin and Linear Icons for the use of their font icons. All original characters and content on the site belong to their respective owners unless otherwise specified. We claim nothing that is not ours.
Kirigakure's museum is a curious structure. The building slopes out of the pavement, worn by weather and age; it's almost entirely unfamiliar to him. Kōki has never shown interest in history, nor cared significantly for cultural artefacts. There’s encouragement, however, in the blade he wields secured on his person— Samehada being an indication he’s not entirely detached from Kirigakure’s legacy. [break][break] It’s too early for even the sun to peek fully over the horizon. He loiters in the space like a ghost refusing to move on, a curl in each shoulder speaking to a lifetime of poor posture. He has the habit of making himself look small— and small is how he feels, like he’s standing at the bottom of the world, and all he wants to do is stay there. There’s a thin layer of moisture gathering on his skin— a mix of sweat and mist as he waits for the arrival of his team. [break][break] He’s tired. A little hungry. But the mission comes from the Mizukage directly, and he doesn’t ever hesitate to do what he’s told when it’s demanded of him. The stolen artefact is a ceremonial dagger, one supposedly used in elaborate sealing rituals hundreds of years in the past. It may have even been used to create Kirigakure’s first jinchūriki, although when Kōki enquires with Chōmei, all he hears in return is a scoff. [break][break] How should I know? It’s not like I get to watch. [break][break] “Just trying to make conversation.” The swordsman replies flatly. He reaches behind him to brush his fingers against Samehada’s bandages; the sword makes a low, purring noise. [break][break] Don’t. You’re terrible at it. [break][break] Kōki feels the jab from Chōmei tweak a nerve, and spends the next moments waiting in complete silence. He almost exhales a sigh of relief when he finally hears footsteps approaching.
[attr="class","dramaturgynotes"]
c-rank mission 01: retrieving ancient artifact[break] technically starts in kiri but we'll be out here in a sec.
Still awake when duty called. What's another night with no sleep? It was unlike her to respond so swiftly, or at all. But sometimes the timing just works out. She was in need of a change of scenery. The pile of medical literature on her nightstand had grown considerably in the last 24 hours. Besides, after neglecting calls to action the last three times, she did feel like it was maybe time to do what was asked of her. Not that she cared about consequences, but it seemed simple enough with nothing real at stake, and she could use as an excuse to keep the higher-ups off her back for another week or more.
A yawn creeped up as she entered the crime scene. Only ten minutes too late.
"What's up, beanstalk?"
Walking past her spindly coworker, she slapped him on the back. Her tone lacked any sense of urgency.
"Slept well? Seems like blondie really cares about this one. Feels like this could have waited until morning, but who am I to question a teenager's authority?"
Her disregard for any sort of formality bothered most people, especially ones that were as uptight as her malnourished kouhai.
[attr="class","caesartext"]'Detached from everything. [break][break]Feeling alone.[break][break] Drowning... literally in his mind...[break][break]
This time he thought he would take a different approach. Y'know, borrow a trick that was very frequently used in my younger days...but who was I to talk about my younger days? The days where, admittedly, I did care. When...though infrequently, I did, in fact, give a fuck. If anything, even though I hate Oniisan, I can't say he wasn't right.' [break][break] These were Koto's thoughts post his training session with his elder brother, who he lives with. Imagine the tension in that household, eh? [break][break] Imagine how a thirteen year old who has to lives in the shadow of his idol, the idol who says their potential is remarkable. Was it depression that made Koto feel this way? No, his wise older brother always told him emotions were a reflection of ones ego. What the fuck did that mean? However, one thing Koto had to admit about his older brother was--
[break][break]
Let's hold off that bullet point for a moment.
[break][break]
Almost walking into a wooden post, he snapped back into it. Catching the tail end of the verbal exchange going on while dusting himself off, Koto causally arrived--completing the trifecta scenario that seemed like he needed to be done. A smirk appeared on his face before he chimed in:
[break][break]
"Don't let him hear you talkin' like that..." he started, taking a glance at both of the swordsmen, his dual-colored eye looking at them both. "With everything he's juggling at the moment, if he wants us to recover thing thing, I'm sure there's a reason for it. Besides that's dagger he took from the Shodai and defeated him with."
[break][break]
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, mechanical device--the Ninja-tablet. It was one of the many business ventures his brother invested in over the last three years, and was part of the reason why even though he loathed him, he had to respect him. The devise was rather handy. The one Koto had was a protype, but soon all of the recent inventions were supposedly going to come out. Koto felt annoyed even thinking about the conversations he's had about them, Yashiro always claims that his investments would revolutionize the shinobi world.
[break][break]
Though, honestly, Koto didn't care much for his brother's ambitions. Although, it wasn't until recently that Koto felt like he had his own...vision. Or, began knowing himself, and his own goals for the future. The young Aoyagi almost grinned as he looked at the screen and read over the details.
[break][break]
"According to this we're supposed to go to Dotō Island. I'm not sure if you guys have ever been there...that's where the Mizukage earned his alias, the Dragon of the Bloody Mist. Apparently, one of the yakuza there hired a Nukenin to steal that dagger, the Genshi no Tanken." Koto said while summarizing what he was reading off of the tablet.
"What's up, beanstalk?" [break][break] Ohh. It’s the creepy one. [break][break] For once, Kōki agrees with the tailed beast sealed within him. Despite their association as members of the Seven Swordsmen, he can’t help but be simultaneously unnerved and emasculated by Ryoko. Her appearance, her medical fixation, and the damnable fact that she’s a jōnin while he remains a genin just sits in the corner of his mind like a patch of mould he can’t remove. [break][break] A strangled grunt chokes past grit teeth when he feels her playfully slap him on the back. He doesn’t want to entertain her antics, frequent as they were, but Kōki can literally feel an annoying prickle prodding at his brain. He knows it’s only a matter of time until it blooms into a full-blown headache. [break][break] "Slept well? Seems like blondie really cares about this one. Feels like this could have waited until morning, but who am I to question a teenager's authority?" [break][break] “You’re late, and you know I didn’t.” Kōki answers the former question with all the enthusiasm of wet cardboard; his nightmares and persistent insomnia are common knowledge in the village, and even if it wasn’t, the deep, dark circles under his eyes betray the fact regardless. He wonders if he should admire Ryoko’s ability to fit so much snark into such a brief string of words. [break][break] "Don't let him hear you talkin' like that..." [break][break] Koto is the latest to arrive. Kōki regards him with a robotic nod, quickly establishing himself as the least wordy of the trio. By rank, Ryoko should lead the mission, and he merely has to follow. His thoughts are miles away by the time their youngest team member begins describing the particulars of their duty. Lengthy history and cultural significance notwithstanding, the mission at hand is merely a task to retrieve a purloined item from just another thief. [break][break] “Letting a genin do all the work for you again, Ryoko?” He asks; there’s a subtle touch of playfulness in his tone considered rare for him, but the moment fades as quickly as it arrives. He’s already committing the more important parts of Koto’s exposition to his memory, and when he starts walking towards the village’s pier, he doesn’t check to see if his team is following. [break][break] There’s only one way to Dotō Island, and he doesn’t want to be the one to row the boat.
"It's the crack of dawn. As far as I'm concerned I'm 6 hours early."
She mused, meandering about the gallery. Her pinky fished some gunk out of her ear as she squinted at some of the pieces. Light footsteps accompanied by a demeanor far too serious for someone of his age echoed through the hall.
"Don't let him hear you talkin' like that..."
"Hey, pipsqueak. I'll be sure to be extra quiet next time.
She turned and gave the pre-teen fingerguns.
Beanstalk, look, he's later than me! Reprimand him too!"
She gestured theatrically towards his direction, knowing the most that would follow was the repressed sucking of teeth.
"With everything he's juggling at the moment, if he wants us to recover this thing, I'm sure there's a reason for it. Besides that's dagger he took from the Shodai and defeated him with."
"Ahhh, dagger shmagger. He just wants his centerpiece back. Talk about the ego of youth."
"According to this we're supposed to go to Dotō Island. I'm not sure if you guys have ever been there...that's where the Mizukage earned his alias, the Dragon of the Bloody Mist. Apparently, one of the yakuza there hired a Nukenin to steal that dagger, the Genshi no Tanken."
She yawned again listening to the explanation.
“Letting a genin do all the work for you again, Ryoko?”
"He seems so happy to do it, I wouldn't deprive anyone of their joy. But go ahead beanstalk, lead the way."
She retorted, her tone drenched in sarcasm. Crossing her arms behind her head, she simply trailed behind Kouki.
[attr="class","caesartext"]This was a bit of a pressing situation for Koto. Sure, he'd been around most of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, but Ryoko, was one of the one who he still needed adjusting too. Their sarcasm almost made him want to ask a few questions, but he never bothered enough to ask. And he wouldn't do so now, either. [break][break] "Pipsqueak?" he repeated the insult, or nickname, or whatever it was with a subtle smile tucked upon his face. He had to bite back his urge to laugh at the...fingerguns? "Are you sure you can pull that off though? I'm not so sure..." [break][break] Koto watched for the rest of the exchange, only chiming it once again after Kōki began walking off. "I would've exactly call it joy...I just know your reputation, so I came prepared." He teased, walking pass them sticking his tongue out and making a funny face. He began following after Kōki, placing his hands in his pocket and laughing as he too headed towards the pier. [break][break] It wasn't that much of a walk. The pier was relatively close to where they met at, so before long as the most would grow more dense as they got closer to the pier, and the water, they would eventually see an assortment of different boats. There were various ones of different make, sizes, and colors. [break][break] "Let's get one big enough for an extra person, just in case." He said, while considering the possibility of finding their target and capturing them. "Besides, I'm definitely going to need some space on this ride. Wait, how long does it take to make it to Dotō Island?" He asked, as he walked up to a relatively decent sized green boat. It seemed like at least four or five people could fit on it. [break][break] "What about this one?"
"Let's get one big enough for an extra person, just in case." [break][break] Kōki keeps to himself as they make their way to and through the docks, hunched over with poor posture as he does. He thinks about how young the day still is and how slowly time passes when he’s with people who speak a lot more often than he does. He resigns himself like a wallflower to the edge of every conversation, decidedly uncomfortable with engaging in any small talk. [break][break] The boat is a rickety old vessel with slapdash green paint, bobbing atop the tranquil waters like a fishing float. The scene would look downright serene, if the docks were not permanently permeated by Kirigakure’s thick, harbour gray mists. Circling the boat where he can on land, Kōki gestures to his team that it’s empty and, without hesitation, boards it. [break][break] Blessedly, the boat has an engine— a means to reach their destination faster, and to save Kōki from rowing until his arms give in to soreness. He’s sure the Mizukage can cover expenses if the boat does end up belonging to someone. [break][break] The journey to Dotō Island is a quiet one for Kōki, who spends a majority of the voyage seated at the ship’s bow, wedged between empty tackle boxes and stacks of old cloth— as though in attempt to assimilate himself into being part of the furniture. He takes the time to clean his katana and Samehada both as the early hours of the morning drive thin rays of sun through the dreary clouds, blanketing him in scant warmth. [break][break] A big part of him is glad the boat has a relatively automated system for navigation— a necessary invention for vessels navigating the open waters of this fog-choked land. They need only dock and undock it manually, and spend the roughly half-hour trip minding their own business. [break][break] From his place at the bow, Kōki is the first to spot Dotō Island’s docks come into focus as they cut steadily through the water and gentle waves. It’s a rickety wooden structure, creaking from the battering of waves and crumbling from rot over decades of service. Several other small rowboats float on the waters nearby, secured to the island with thick ropes tied to thick wooden pegs anchored into the ground. [break][break] There’s not a soul in sight beyond these signs of life. Kōki pulls himself upright and turns to the helm, “We’re here.” He says, his voice barely a decibel louder than it needs to be over the sound of the water and waves. As they approach their destination, he plants a foot against the ship’s edge and springboards himself onto land, Samehada and katana both safely stowed on his back and right hip. [break][break] Knowing Ryoko, it wouldn’t surprise Kōki if the woman simply let the boat crash through the old dock. He busies himself with inspecting the rowboat closest to where he disembarked— the rope is less salt-eaten than the rest, and the markings on the peg it’s secured around are fresh. [break][break] “This one arrived not long before us.” Kōki says. He’s always too quiet to seem like he’s addressing other people; rather, it almost sounds as though he’s only muttering to himself.
