CP9 Recruitment Test Subject #009: Shigan (Romo)

[BEX]

The sun beat down in horrid sweltering waves with the only solace coming by way of a momentary kiss of eastward wind coming off the western coasts of the island. Only gods among men survived the mentally and physically draining task of laboring tirelessly for a government who saw them only as tools. Tools they were indeed.

Mopping up a filmy layer of sunscreen weighted perspiration from his forehead the Director strode through his camp, eyes shimmering like black beetles as each minute detail was caught then discarded according to whether it met his standards of quality or not. One thing he did enjoy working with the ninja of this particular region was their attention to detail—warriors of precision as opposed to brute strength, yes, the Crysiland masters of ninjutsu were hardly ones to leave a task poorly or undone. Straightening the tweed knee length black coat he was reminded yet again how superior these black clad men and women were physically when compared to him and really man born of another land. The thought made him wrinkle his nose as though he’d smelled something unpleasant.

“When is our new recruit arriving upon the island?” he asked the air beside him.

In an instant the space previously unoccupied was filled with a woman as elegantly shaped as ever was before. Fae, was the prettier of the two assistants he’d personally selected from the scores of ninja presented to him after he received the title of director. Flowing indigo hair that remained untangled and harmonious fluidity as it rolled down to her shoulders, she remained a beauty that caught his eye each and every time she appeared before him. Only now the woman only served to remind him t hat Natai still hadn’t returned from her recon mission--another fact that grated on him when it came to mind. “He should be arriving at the entrance of the camp by the time you arrive.” the small woman responded blandly. Her eyes were leveled not at the man whom she had slowly become overly dedicated to, but instead on the path ahead of her. The Director couldn’t help casting a quick sidelong glance to drink in the sight of her another time. If only he could just reach out and squeeze one of those…

No.

He’d been down that rode before and likely Natai would find out about it…not that he f*cking cared anyhow! First she starts fights she can’t win; now she won’t leave me to a moment’s peace of mind! Damn women always causing trouble when they ought to be doing the opposite! Sensing his mood Fae allowed the space between them as they walked to grow. She was intelligent when it came to reading him. Both she and Mae were astute sensors of his emotions. It really was too bad that they were unable to leave all ties to their people behind and return with him once nine successful agents had been forged from these arid lands. Grumbling once more about women before mopping his forehead with the kerchief again he pressed on until he finally saw the tiny plain white flag hanging limply at the point that marked the entrance of the encampment. Native wild life saw the flag and knew it to mean that the Crysiland ninja were populating here—a testament to the people’s dominance when creatures with no sense knew enough to steer clear of them without cause. Everyone on this island was like that.

Not far off he could just make out shadowy forms coming through the abundance of leaves hanging down from trees too tall to spot their tops in the sky. Even with the excellent shelter the sun’s rays still beat down with retribution upon the small gathering and the Director impatiently awaited the arrival of his latest recruit. He’d lost Neyruk and a good many others, but it seemed that he still managed to hold ties to Natai and Demetri. Those two would be his pillars for now. They gave him something to start with and he needed all the progress he could get. “I hope you people warned him about staring openly at women before bringing him here” It was a question rather than a wish, one that would certainly serve this particular fellow’s health a great deal.

The women were usually the worse when they felt disrespected. Women were a problem in all lands.

[Lord Bromosalino]

“How much farther till we get to the meeting place?” It had been a horribly hot day. Shielding his eyes from the unbearable sun, the young man had finally arrived at Crysiland. The land of mysterious ninja, crystal fruit, and the training ground for the strongest organization on the seas. The young man, Sora Akihiro, had not been told were they were going and had just found out the location a mere day ago as they approached the strange island.

Sora had heard very little of CP9, but what he did hear he liked. On the ship he was escorted on, he had heard of the legendary Rob Lucci as well. Renowned as the strongest member CP9 had ever produced in its history only to go rouge, rumor was that this new Director was building a new CP9 group to surpass even Lucci. Whatever ’plans’ this Director had for this new group, Sora would make sure his own goals were fulfilled as well.

As they passed the white flag that seemed lifeless, Sora had thought this would be the meeting place. After all, the heat was so intense and unbearable, it just made sense to be along the coast. With an occasional blessing that came in the form of a slight breeze and the cool from the ocean, the heat could be tolerable at the very least. But when the escort had pointed into the depths of the jungle, Sora already dreaded bringing along his armor. Normally Sora would wear a loose, long sleeved, high collared, blue shirt with matching blue pants, and black shoes with wrappings coming up to the lower part of his leg. However, Sora had been told very little about where he was going or how CP9 trained and operated and so, Sora had brought along his red, samurai styled breast plate, katana, and war fan. Carrying them throughout the heat was bad enough, but trying to manage them though a densely populated jungle didn’t really fit the ninja ‘mojo’ that surrounded the island. But they were essential to Sora. As a Marine who had trained in almost all forms of basic and standard weaponry, Sora felt that he should never be limited to one type of fighting style. From a hand-to-hand combat form similar to Krav Maga to firearms (both short range to the more difficult long range of snipers) to swords of almost all kinds and even to larger, blunter weapons such as the type he now carried on his back, the war fan. Limiting the weapons you used limits your overall fighting performance and lowers the chances of success. Whether this organization would even allow weapons was of little concerned, but preparation is key.

When the escort started to lead the party through the jungle, Sora thought of the director. What was the man like, did he see the world in the same light as he himself did, was he a powerful man or just another puppet, did he truly care for justice or did he rather enjoy the power that came with his position? Pushing one of the numerous branches that seemed to droop from the gigantic trees away from his long, spiky, black hair, Sora also brushed the thoughts away from his mind. He would find out soon enough, no need to worry over trivial thoughts.

The trek through the forest seemed like an eternity, moving and passing as quickly as tar in the winter did. Although the trees on this island were colossal, they provided limited sun protection. Bursting though any opening, the rays tortured the entourage of shadows as they moved through the forest in complete silence. Once again pointing to what appeared to be a camp still a little ways off, the escort motioned for the group to hasten their step. Within ten to fifteen minutes, the group had arrived to the camp. Immediately one man stood out, a rather tall man, not as tall as Sora mind you, that seemed to pace back and forth throughout the camp. However, it seemed the stride was one of impatience rather than worry or fear Sora noted. Not waiting to be introduced, Sora himself stepped forwards.

“Sora Akihiro reporting for duty!”

[BEX]

So…this was Sora Akihiro.

They’d met briefly upon the initial interview, but since then various tasks had barred them from speaking further. The director took in the multitude of weaponry as well as the heavy armor set that man had brought with him—seems he’d judged this one right on the spot. “Are we expecting some trouble, Mister Akihiro?” he asked poignantly, but didn’t actually wait for an answer. Instead he turned heel expecting all to follow—as they always did—and headed back to the tent. There was paperwork to be filled out and gone over once again.

Since he had taken the helm of Cipher Pol Nine, many inane twits had sought to join the organization and yet many had fallen well short of the task. Not to mistake that his efforts were failing, Demetri, Natai, and once upon a time Neyruk Integer had all been successes in his books. He need more though. Not only that. He needed a man he could rely upon. Ninja brought Akihiro in shortly after the director himself entered the cooled tent. Placed beneath the watch of a mountainside this was the coolest, yet just as easily the most well heated tent when the nights became ruthlessly cold. Such was the weather of Crysiland. Running a hand through his coarse black hair the broad shouldered director reviewed the notes he’d made of Sora once more.

Seems quite sure of himself. Possibly to a fault. Openly suggested that his goals and mind would only coincide at certain points though insists that he is capable of following orders to the letter. Hmmm…his career is undeniably impeccable thus far. Looking up again at the man, the director’s eagle like eyes tried to extract any sign of weakness in the man. To save them both the trouble of dealing with wasted resources and instructions, but he could draw nothing but hardness from the fellow. That was good. He needed people that were sterner than steel and as receptive to his style of running things as well. “Disarm him. I’d like it much better if he didn’t carry that luggage around—it’s making me tired just looking at him.” In an instant Fae and Mae were peeling away weapon after weapon and finally tearing savagely at the samurai breast plate that man went out of his way to bring. Couldn’t have been Edo period. Possibly from Wano county—many great samurai rose from there, but not in quite some time as far as he could remember. Once the task was done and Sora given a tight fitting slim suit of black matching what the director himself wore the ninja were dismissed. Except for Fae and Mae. Those two resided on either side of the director’s desk. Always watching, always waiting for a misstep that would give them a reason to tear into this man.

“Your credentials check out. You’re an exemplary man with good tastes….but that has proven not to be enough in most cases,” Filing the documents on Akihiro away the director sighed with a weariness that seemed bone deep. It felt bone deep. Hours of plotting, working towards goals that seemed to push themselves eternally beyond his horizons, but he could not tire. He could not quit. Whitebeard may be dead, but Monkey D. Luffy had risen to power along with the other former Supernova rampaging about the New World. Not to mention that new rookies are popping up in the Blues—a few even making it to the Grand Line. Just thinking about that bastard Blackbeard made him want to sick up.

That one man had managed to attain so much political and physical power so quickly and so deviously was a black eye upon the World Government’s dignity. If such a thing existed anymore. “Sora, let me be frank with you. I’m going to put you through hell because I’m going to use you as the tip of my spear. There are many pieces to the puzzle I’ve worked out—there is a leader, who shall be the pillar which supports the group. A secretary who will oversees how things work and act as a conduit of my own desires in my stead…and I will need a man who is willing to do the ‘dirty work’. Can you be that man? Sora Akihiro?”

[Lord Bromosalino]

“Are we expecting some trouble, Mister Akihiro?”

Sora had learned quite that questions like these where rhetorical and would be pointless to answer, or they would be rewarded with swift punishment. Sora had introduced himself, and he could sense the Director sizing him up and possibly making judgments already. They had met before, briefly that is. No more than a few minutes, but Sora had been in a very different attire then, just his standard high collared blue shirt and pants that he was now wearing under the array of weaponry and armor.

Without waiting for an answer from this new recruit, as Sora knew he wouldn’t, the Director turned heel and began to walk towards what Sora assumed with his own tent. Sora had already known men like the Director from his time within the Marines. They expected you to follow like little puppies every time they moved and to answer “Yes, sir. Of course sir. No, sir.” Regardless of the situation, however, Sora followed. There was something a bit off about this Director, something that Sora himself found not quite unlike himself.

The Director’s own tent stood at the watch of the mountain. Good spot. It’ll keep warm in the colder nights and stay breezy when the sun happens to hate us, like today. Not bad strategically as well. He cant just be attacked, he’s guarded. Could mean he himself has no real knack or aptitude for combat. Maybe he just likes the view. Sora could see the Director’s eyes, scanning him once more. There was detail in his eyes. “Disarm him. I’d like it much better if he didn’t carry that luggage around—it’s making me tired just looking at him.”

Immediately, hands began to pry away his weapons and then his armor. The ninja here seemed to understand that when the Director spoke, they were to act almost before the order had even left his own lips, Sora noted. He was given a form fitting, black suit to wear. Loosening the black tie that seemed to strangle him, Sora felt slightly awkward. Even without his weapons he was a capable hand-to-hand combat, but this clothing, though stylish, felt too strange, too new to him. The loose clothing Sora was accustomed to seemed to flow with Sora’s movements, this seemed as it would restrict him. He would need to get used to it.

“Your credentials check out. You’re an exemplary man with good tastes…but that has proven not be enough in most cases.”

Weariness. That one word could sum up the look that Sora saw on his face. The amount of planning, preparation, and effort to go into a project like this surely had its toll on the man. How long had been at it, Sora couldn’t say. However, the look did not last for long. Putting away any documents that he had been fiddling with, and went to the heart of the matter.

“Sora, let me be frank with you. I’m going to put you through hell because I’m going to use you as the tip of my spear. There are many pieces to the puzzle I’ve worked out—there is a leader, who shall be the pillar which supports the group. A secretary who will oversees how things work and act as a conduit of my own desires in my stead…and I will need a man who is willing to do the ‘dirty work’. Can you be that man? Sora Akihiro?”

Pushing a strand of the long, black hair away from his face, Sora shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against a chair.

“Hell huh? That’s fine. Do anything you want for all I care. After all, I came here to get stronger. As for doing your ‘dirty work’, I’ve got no problem. Assassination, recon, destruction of buildings, ships and property. I assumed that already came with the job description. My only question is, when do we start?”

[BEX]

A response to be expected. He really is rough around the edges… The director kept watch of this refreshingly brazen young recruit through the clasp of his folded hands; still trying to see if the flagrant confidence was simply a ruse. Eventually he sighed and resigned to get right to the testing—that was the only to gauge the resolve of a man for its true worth. His hand disappeared beneath the desk for a short while and the only noise within the slightly arid room was that of paper shuffling. A quick glance in Fae’s direction said the fiery young ninja was as ready as ever to commit violence. In fact she seemed charged with electricity from head to toe, eyes dancing with fires that could never be put out.

It had been that way since he’d first laid eyes upon her. Beautiful…and very, very lethal. “Here it is. There is a mission I’d like to send you on with one of our more matured recruits.” he explained offhandedly dropping the stack of information near the edge of his desk. Truthfully this wasn’t a test nor would it aid the man in Rokushiki, but he needed someone to ensure the safety of that fool woman. She wasn’t invincible no matter what she believed. “Before you leave though I’ll need a demonstration of your combat prowess and need to test your scenario assessment. They’ll be no brutes in my company.” With that he nodded at a shorter, gray chinned shinobi who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Those gray eyes were sharp like steel and there was a robotic jerk to his motions. Maybe it had to do with the barely noticeable limp in his left leg, but the director knew that to be little hindrance to him.

“Shall we commence here or outside?” the old man asked after taking a drawn out pause to size up Sora. Really! The nerve of that old bat! Making a scene in front of his men. Consciously focusing on not grinding his teeth the director waved them outside—likely there would be more of an advantage to the old man in close quarters or open space, but at least Sora might have the chance to come up with something innovative outside. Even that thought brought little hope for the recruit. “Mind you, it’s only a test, Roku. Only a test.” Many black scarved necks snapped in his direction and even at his side Mae and Fae both abruptly became rigid at the casual mention of the island leader’s name. Of course. These people and their customs always found a way to wheedle into his affairs when he least expected it. It was the man’s *$Q# name for god’s sakes. Quick to amend what would likely explode in another shouting match the director apologized.

“Forgive my rudeness. The sun. It boils the mind and consequently the tongue, yes?”

“See that you find shade quickly. I know how hard it is for wetlanders to get used to our conditions.” Those words were edged with venomous bitterness, but the old man had already turned and like a cat leaped through the tent flaps into the grounds outside. Sighing again as he rose, the director wondered if an exhibition match fated to end in utter defeat was really the way to begin this recruit’s training. “There is little else you can do. He must show if he is strong or not now.” Mae whispered to him. Her breath tickled his ear and had he been such a man he might have blushed from the sensual touch of a beautiful woman, but now only bone deep tiredness occupied his mind as he snatched his kerchief from the desk before following the procession—and Akihiro out into the open.

The sensei of the island, Roku M’alari, was as devious in combat as he was devastating. A master of Rokushiki and a wielder of the Rokugan, he was nothing like the frail old man he often projected himself to be. Show me something, Akihiro he thought.

“Are you ready boy? Not that it matters…I fear I’m in a bit of a mood after that…misunderstanding. I pray that does prove too harmful for you. Come!”

Just like that, the battle lines were drawn.

[Lord Bromosalino]

“Here it is. There is a mission I’d like to send you on with one of our more mature recruits.”

Finally the Director had spoken after Sora’s answer, but this was his request? Although the greatest teacher in life was certainly tests within the real world, Sora had assumed he would undergo intense training before being given any mission. The Director and one of the female ninja that seemed to follow him closer than his own shadow and exchanged many glances in the silence. Sora hardly doubted they were plotting anything, but then again; he knew very little of this mysterious man as well as his cohorts. Doing his best to keep his face calm, Sora waited to hear the Director out before voicing any thoughts.

“Before you leave though I’ll need a demonstration of your combat prowess and need to test your scenario assessment. They’ll be no brutes in my company.”

With that, another ninja (clearly an older man) entered the tent, although one could also say that he was already there. True to the image they had created and presented, they were like shadows, appearing and disappearing with no trace or warning.

Although the man that appeared at the word of Director had clearly seen many seasons come and go, that only added to Sora’s caution. The strongest man was not necessarily he who had the most strength the biggest and best weapon. Rather, experience. Fighting someone who had clearly seen dozens upon dozens, maybe even thousands, of fights would certainly be a challenge. Although it might have been foolish to think in such a way, Sora stood at six feet six inches and figured with his height and reach advantage, he could tip the scales into his favor. Although he was a master of using a variety of weapons, Sora hadn’t relied to heavily upon hand-to-hand combat. He would have to keep the man at bay with his reach and attempt to draw it out. Hopefully the hot sun and his old age would play in Sora’s favor. Besides, he still hadn’t revealed his special Devil Fruit and he doubted that anyone knew of it yet.

As Sora had been thinking on the upcoming test, the Director and the old ninja had apparently gotten into some sort of argument. Usually not one to miss details and let things go unnoticed, Sora reasoned the sun was affecting him as well, as he had heard the Director use the sun as an excuse for whatever he had said to offend the old man. The apology, however, Sora caught. Thus far, the Director had seemed like a man that answered to no one and no one on the island would dare challenge his authority. The old ninja then, Sora concluded, must be some type or form of a master on the island. Pushing aside the flaps of the cool tent, Sora followed this master outside, back into the blistering heat.

“Are you ready boy? Not that it matters…I fear I’m in a bit of a mood after that…misunderstanding. I pray that does prove too harmful for you. Come!”

It seemed that the little exchange between the two men had left the older man with a little emotion building up, which was just fine for Sora. As someone who had been susceptible and the victim of rage as a young teenage boy, Sora knew what it could do to a combatant. Clouding the mind as a cloud covers the sun, intelligent thinking would struggle to push through. Of course, as a master of combat, this man probably had learned many moons ago how to contain and use rage. Provoking him further immediately left Sora’s mind as an option. He decided that the best course of action would be to go toe to toe with him, mano-a-mano. Pulling up his arms and using an open arm technique, with his right hand near his face for protection and the other fully extended, Sora placed his left foot slightly forward.

“Surely you are not underestimating me? I may just surprise you.”

No matter what technique the man would use, Sora would not lose sight of him. His devil fruit would make sure of that. After days of turbulent seas and the scorching morning, all of that would finally pay off. It was here Sora would show his worth.

[BEX]

The director couldn’t help smirking at the open lack of awe shown by his recruit. He had already thought of the man as such. His. A weapon to be forged, tempered, and then sharpened beyond reason’s point until there was nothing in this world that could not be cut through with it’s edge; even the age ripened bureaucrats at the summit of the World Government ranks. Impatience tugged at hard planed features on his face and the small smile that had been noticeably present melted away in seconds leaving only weary somberness as he watched the sprite old man begin to bounce on his feet. He almost swore aloud at that sight.

“Ah, no, no. It is never my way to underestimate anyone. That route is the path of death and ignorance.” the sensei retorted calmly. His footwork was nothing out the ordinary though almost unexpected given his age…and yet he made it look effortless, as if he were simply tiptoeing on the surface of cirrus clouds. “Alright, warm up…ready!”

Like a snake strike the old man took flight with his foot outstretched in a flying kick that would wind even the largest man in one blow. Power and grace intersected for one moment in time as the nearly effortless blow barreled for Akihiro’s sizable chest. Except just as suddenly as it had started, the attack ended as the old man abruptly vanished from sight. Only the stone still ninja remained unconfused by what had taken place—not even one of them batted an eye as only a small ring of disturbed dust told the tale of the Houdini act. “Akihiro, just follow your instincts. Don’t worry about matching his speed.” the director coached though trying to be subtle with his search for the whereabouts of the sensei. Fae and Mae looked as serious as their brothers, both stiff and he felt that if he laid hand upon either of them that they would feel as firm as the stony overpass that lurched clumsily behind his tent.

“Oh come now. I’m up here. Don’t teach him that Zen nonsense you outlanders like to bring into every fight.” a voice called from above. Sighing with frustration, the director peered upwards to see a small form clinging easily to branch—the man could have been a monkey lounging above for all anyone knew. “I think I surprised you…if you want to concede defeat” the old man offered graciously. Though grace was certainly far from the fart bag’s agenda and the director would have opened his mouth to give him an earful had he not disappeared in the span of one breath and the next. “You see? You would’ve died once right there.” came that same irritatingly sage like voice, this time from behind him. Upon turning his gaze back to the battleground, he would find Roku’s fist resting gently beneath the third vertebrae of Akihiro’s back; a well placed fist indeed. Rokushiki was hardly the only art practiced in this savage land. Not waiting for Akihiro’s reaction the old man twirled sending clouds of dirt into the air though incredibly managing to stay perfectly within his opponent’s guard. Never allowing for full extension or full power.

A war machinist’s strategy…

[Lord Bromosalino]

“Ah, no, no. It is never my way to underestimate anyone. That route is the path of death and ignorance. Alright, warm up…ready!”

With all the grace and power that Sora had expected from the old master, he had launched a perfect flying kick. What had caught Sora off guard was the speed. Speed that defied logic, that defied the physiology of the old man’s body, and that had surpassed all other types of speed that Sora had seen thus far. The speed was, in fact, so fast that Sora knew instinctively that he would not be able to dodge it or launch a counter attack of his own. Bringing both arms in a cross like manner, Sora would at least minimize the force of the attack and then as the old man prepared for his next attack, Sora would strike. Except, the old master’s attack was never completed. All that remained before Sora was a small ring of dust that marked the old man’s seemingly magic trick.

If he had turned invisible, then it was truly magic and not even Sora’s own Devil Fruit would help locate him. But, if he had merely changed his location, the Renzu Renzu no Mi would find him. To those unsuspecting, nothing had changed about Sora. But if one were to truly focus in on his eyes, yes his eyes, they would notice his pupils grow in size until they had nearly reached twice their original size. A spectacular fruit with an extraordinary power, the Renzu Renzu no Mi gave Sora 360 degree vision and the ability to zoom in and out on objects like a camera. In the split second that Sora activated his Devil Fruit, Sora nearly immediately located the master; hanging onto a limb on a tree like a common monkey. Still facing the same way, Sora hoped he didn’t give off the idea that he had located the man. Fortunately, no one had any idea he had, evident by the intervention of the Director, who had been looking for the old master as well.

“Akihiro, just follow your instincts. Don’t worry about matching his speed.”

Holding back a smile, Sora couldn’t help but chuckle internally. Guess even the Director hadn’t seen the “trick” by the master. But all that meant was that Sora had quite a lot of work to do.

“ Oh come now. I’m up here. Don’t teach him that Zen nonsense you outlanders like to bring into every fight. “I think I surprised you…if you want to concede defeat.”

Just like before, he was gone again. Even with the power of the Renzu Renzu no Mi, Sora couldn’t track him fast enough. This was quite clear in the most unexpected of ways.

“You see? You would’ve died once right there.”

Again popping up in the most unexpected of places, the old master’s fist lay at his back. To be able to move from place to place with that kind of speed, the thought was staggering. It was just like all the rumors he had heard back in Rougetown. Rumors that they were shadows, wraiths in the night, they trained the best of the best killers, and such. If this would be part of his training, Sora would have to win in order to obtain that type of speed.

Still facing forwards, Sora could clearly look into the old man’s eyes while unbeknownst to him. Eyes that had a bit of smugness to them. No wonder the Director seemed exasperated towards him. Then with the same movements, movements that seemed even swifter than the wind, the old man seemed to twirl and disappear only to reappear directly in front of Sora.

Staying inside my reach. Clever. But what if I do this?[/I]

Grabbing the man in a bear hug like manner, Sora would trap the man. If he couldn’t move, he couldn’t fight. Besides, he probably wasn’t as strong as Sora if it came down to brute force. Moving quick, lest the old man flee again, Sora attempted to wrap his arms around the old man, which was a bit more difficult noting the size difference between the two. But if it worked, this fight was over.

[BEX]

Clever…he decided there was no need to try matching the man’s speed and simply went for overpowering him. The director was…pleased with the depth of his newest recruit’s thoughts. All personality flaws aside Akihiro seemed to possess a latent talent or know-how that came easily to natural born fighters. Definitely an interesting prospect.

Only even this fine bit of genius would fail to bridge the vast sea of experience and outright ability that separated the two. Suddenly the old man’s already lithe form stretched unnaturally until he wiggled in one thin, line in the space which the bear hug was supposed to encompass—another magic trick pulled from the hat of a magician. “Kami-e: Sen!” This time, not all the black clothed bystanders were as stolid in their indifference as before. Rightfully so since this was likely a trick that a rare few had mastered and one thing the director had learned here was that these ninja were as hungry for growth as any group he’d seen. Notwithstanding he was quite awed himself. Jaw hanging open as he watched the inhuman display of dexterity just before the old man’s…body danced away from Akihiro like silly putty. When his feet touched the ground a second time his anatomy had once again decided to assume the form of a human being.

“Hmmm…you understand your situation quickly then.” the old man thought aloud while pacing slowly in a rigid line. “Realizing that I was hindering close quarters combat you decided to grapple—not a bad thought, but what you have in wits you lack in actual knowledge of your body.”

“Alright, I think we get the point.” the director intervened, voice hoarse with disapproval. He hadn’t expected the codger to be quite so smug about his dominance. Either way the appalling display may yet have worked out to his advantage if Akihiro was as proud as he flaunted himself to be. The prideful were usually the most willing to devote themselves to whatever means they could find to become stronger. Nodding his head towards Roku respectfully he waved Akihiro over. “Thank you sensei, but I think it’s time for me to discuss the last bit of business I have with our new man…you find him satisfactory I think?”

Silence rode the arid air as droplets of sweat plopped one after the other onto the pressed black suit coat. Tension crackled openly as the men locked eyes, but looking at either individually they seemed lax; two wolves circling each other with the intentions of ripping the other’s throat out at the first sign of weakness. Sniffing and perhaps hiding what might have been a smile beneath that accursed scarf all the ninja liked to wear over their mouths the sensei inclined his head—not quite so deeply as the director had done—before answering in an even tone, “He’s not as bad as some of the pups that walked through here, but he still has a ways to go. Perhaps letting him off your leash for a time might do him better. In the near future, I mean.” There it was. Animosity foddered into open flames as the director’s jaw line jumped and several of the shinobi audibly shifted their weight.

Likely to apprehend the suit in case he lost his head and went after the old man. Fae and Mae seemed ready to do the same, but the skin surrounding their eyes was lined with worry for their charge. Needlessly it seemed, for all the director did was smile and tuck his hands into his pocket. A greasy smile that went well with his already shining forehead. He had plans for this island as well as the rest of the world and there was no need to throw down in petty confrontation here. Turning heel he called over his shoulder to Sora, “Feel free to stay and ask a few questions of the sensei. When you’re done please see that you’re in my tent for the last bit of the inauguration into ‘peaceful’ camp.”

Making his way to his well manicured tent, the director rubbed a hand through his rich, black hair and silently thanked the heaves for the coolness of his abode. Fae and Mae noiselessly slipped in after him—not without making sure that no one had followed nor had anything been tampered with since they had left to watch the exhibition. Needlessly of course. All these actions were needless in his plan and he’d just as soon be rid of these nuisances, but for now he would play the hand given to him.

“That was invigorating…” he remarked candidly while cracking open another one of the monthly reports that kept him abreast of the world’s condition. Pirates still seemed to be leading the battle, yet a new Admiral was to be announced soon. More needless gestures by irrelevant people. Just a little more time and our mark will be branded into this sea. he thought pleased as punch. A good many things had fallen his way already…

[Lord Bromosalino]

“Kami-e: Sen”

Although the tactic proved useful and successful, the old man, like all good magicians, had another trick ready to pull out of his little bag. This time, not even an excuse to define it as magic could explain what happened. After all, magic was all illusion and therefore preyed on the weak minded. This, in and of itself, was supernatural. Like a piece of paper, no thinner yet, the old master seemed to slide his way out of Sora’s arms. Three dimensional form passed into the realm of two dimension as the man went limp and flat.

No sooner was he out than his natural form returned to him, like a balloon that is filled up with air. Pacing, the old man never lost the smug look in his eyes and never dropped the air of superiority.

“Hmmm…you understand your situation quickly then. Realizing that I was hindering close quarters combat you decided to grapple—not a bad thought, but what you have in wits you lack in actual knowledge of your body.”

“Lack of actual knowledge of my body? Old man, magic tricks and things of the supernatural are by no means a lack of knowledge. Wise as you are, do not mock me.”

Such smugness, such arrogance, it sickened Sora. Here he was, a recruit, ready to learn. And even after performing well, in his own eyes at the very least, the old master remained arrogant as if Sora’s decision and tactic proved nothing. “Age, wisdom, and power can do that to a man” Sora’s father would say on occasion when it came to a subject such as this. No matter, in due time, yes in due time he would earn the respect and awe of the man.

“Thank you sensei, but I think it’s time for me to discuss the last bit of business I have with our new man…you find him satisfactory I think?”

“He’s not as bad as some of the pups that walked through here, but he still has a ways to go. Perhaps letting him off your leash for a time might do him better. In the near future, I mean.”

What followed seem like a match between two superpowers, one with executive power and one with awe inspiring power. Surely the old master, strong as he was, did not believe he could speak with such disrespect towards a man appointed by the World Government themselves?

“Feel free to stay and ask a few questions of the sensei. When you’re done please see that you’re in my tent for the last bit of the inauguration into ‘peaceful’ camp.”

Apparently the Director had a bit more self control in the silence that would follow. But Sora only had one question for the man.

“Can you teach me how to fight as you do?”

[BEX]

Broad shoulders and obviously proud of himself the new recruit, Sora Akihiro, stood before one of the Crysiland’s finest sons with little amazement. Rather the man seemed to accept the canyon of difference between their skills as an inconvenience—one to be remedied quickly by way of proper questioning and bullheaded training. Had the misty black scarf not been drawn over the lower half of his face perhaps this Sora might have seen the white of his teeth as he smiled, but as it was a throaty laugh escaped the old man and it continued to rack his rail thin frame until it appeared he was on the verge of literally expiring for its ferocity. Waving away worried students Roku raised his eyes to meet the towering form once again. Steel would have turned to clay beneath that gaze.

“You’re a dangerous one, asking questions like that. Phaw!” he admonished, but amusement tempered even these words. Like hushed whispers his approval of this particular recruit became apparent to everyone…except Sora himself perhaps. “When you find some time away from your leash perhaps I’ll be inclined to show you the true way to mastering Rokushiki…been a long time since someone worthy came along. Not since that pigeon boy came to me as a mere pup…kekeke…later beansprout!”

As the words were spoken Roku disappeared and so had a good number of the black clothed bodies that had come with him. Now Sora was alone with the men that had initially brought him to see the director earlier in the day. An uneasy moment passed as every eye critically examined the broad shouldered outsider who had so sufficiently drawn the master’s good graces; it was quite unusual for the leader to be so taken with anyone not of their lands. Finally someone broke the silence with a low grunt before clasping an arm on the suited recruits shoulder, “You may yet prove to be one of us. For now you’re like a child among adults so you will learn our ways and—yes we will not ask you to disobey you superior—but there are certain ordinances you will have to adhere to.” The others watched warily as the unorthodox orientation into the ninja of Crysiland went on. No one had ever seen anyone outside of the small community indoctrinated into the ways of the ninja.

“Don’t mind them. They know little of change and expect the world to stay painted in black and white around them. Come, this… director awaits you and while the man is not like us he most certainly is not a human I would see an enemy of.” With that the uncannily social bug made as if to head towards the center of the main camp, but hten stopped, “Name’s Anamaeus. Remember it well as you head over, Akihiro.” said the strange ninja over his shoulder. Once again dead silence followed in his wake as the others slanted dangerous looks towards the calm as summer day warrior.

The joke of Anamaeus’ words lay in the fact that with their scarves pulled over their faces in the usual fashion they were impossible to tell apart…some friendships were meant to be…trying.

[Lord Bromosalino]

“Can you teach me to fight as you do?”

Asking such a question was certainly risky. Sora wasn’t to sure how the old master would respond. After all, he had already grasped certain things about his personality, and none to generous. Cocky, arrogant, proud were just a few. He had looked down on Sora since the moment they had met. Probably thought he was all brawn and no brain. Not exactly a hard conclusion to come to. Regardless, Sora needed to learn how to fight like he had. With blinding speed, unparallel gracefulness, and many different tricks up his sleeve, the old master was more than a match for any opponent. For someone who had done so well against him, Sora could become increasingly more frightful than even the master if he could incorporate his Devil Fruit as well.

Of course, the problem was getting the old master to train him. The Director seemed to like Sora, and the old master and the ninja, possibly with the exception of two ninja that seemed to follow him constantly, seemed to be on shaky ground. So naturally it came as a shock when the old man seemed to let out one of the most prolonged laughs that Sora had seen. In fact, Sora was worried he might never stop.

“You’re a dangerous one, asking questions like that. Phaw! When you find some time away from your leash perhaps I’ll be inclined to show you the true way to mastering Rokushiki…been a long time since someone worthy came along. Not since that pigeon boy came to me as a mere pup…kekeke…later beansprout!”

And just as his laughter seemed to come from no where, just as quickly did he leave, along with many of the ninja. The ones who remained seemed to eye him. Sora was left to his own thoughts for a scant moment or two. It seemed that he had not only acquired the approval of the Director, but of the master of the ninja. Wonder how many people can say that, heh,[/I] Sora thought to himself.

Sora’s thoughts were interrupted by an arm that gripped Sora’s own shoulder. Not sure of the system, if there was any, of hierarchy was run on this island, Sora assumed the man who approached him was at least somewhere up there in the rankings. With a grunt, he broke the awkward silence.

“You may yet prove to be one of us. For now you’re like a child among adults so you will learn our ways and—yes we will not ask you to disobey you superior—but there are certain ordinances you will have to adhere to.”

One of us. Yea, that’s what he had said. Guess I am to be one of them.[/I]

The statement was, well to be honest, probably not well received by the others that stood watching the scene. It seemed that this head of the ninja took noticed to them, but easily brushed off their looks.

“Don’t mind them. They know little of change and expect the world to stay painted in black and white around them. Come, this… director awaits you and while the man is not like us he most certainly is not a human I would see an enemy of. Name’s Anamaeus. Remember it well as you head over, Akihiro.”

The last statement was said as this “Anamaeus” headed back to the center of the camp and Sora was left on his own and to his own thoughts. The Director had told him to rejoin him in his camp when he was done, but Sora wanted to sort out exactly what had just happened.

Spotting a nice boulder to sit on, Sora was lost in thought. He was to become one of them and learn their ways. Although he knew very little about them, and even less about their culture, he doubted that many are given that option. Probably more of an honor than anything else. He wondered what lay ahead of him and what these “certain ordinances” would take the form of. If he was properly made one of them, he might just have to forego the nickname they had given him at Rougetown; “The Typhoon.” The Crimson Ninja, got a nice ring,[/I] Sora said out loud with a smile on his face.

Hoisting himself up, Sora let out a sigh. Back to business. The Director still waited for him.

Finding his way back into the cool tent of the Director, he found the desk littered with papers. Even now, the Director seemed quite busy. But before anything else, Sora needed to know a few things and he made this plainly clear to the Director.

“Well that was interesting. Before we go onto the next stage or whatever, I got a few questions for you this time. One, exactly what are you trying to accomplish with this group? Secondly, you mentioned that I was to be sent on a mission. Why me? Surely you have more than just one member at your disposal. And thirdly, what kind of people are these ninja and what type of “ordinances” do they put people they wish to indoctrinate into their little society?”

[BEX]

Among many things, irritation burned to the surface. It’s touch feeling like red hot wires searing the flesh of his cheeks—scorching the pulpy corneas of his eyes and spraying hellish suffering upon the tip of his tongue. However professionalism demanded that the director not order Fae and Mae to exterminate the new recruit on his first day. The World Government would only offer him so many capable men and women. Like everyone else they seemed to disregard the daily tribulations he endured each and every day on their behalf, never thinking that perhaps a small courtesy was due to a man who doomed to sweep after the messes that they’d created over the past thousand years. Or they just too indolent to realize they’d done it at all.

Sighing, the director slowly drew his eyes up from the stacks of papers he’d been thumbing through before the onslaught of questions barraged him. Age lined the skin beneath his eyes—rather weariness fleshed out the concept of age upon his face. In a few short months he’d gone from a handsome well-to-do noble to a government lapdog; his prestigious lineage paying grievous dividends. Fae at least, sensed the surge of anger at being interrupted so rudely and she laid a calming hand upon his shoulder while her own eyes iced over in dagger tipped fury. Her intentions were good, but seeing her stiffen with the grace of a machine poised for destruction only made him sigh another time. Hot blooded people were usually the hardest to deal with and it seemed Sora and Fae proved to be among their ranks.

“Mister Akihiro…” the director began his eyes hardening quickly and abruptly. Age was blotted out and any other signs of weakness of emotion drained from his visage. For all intents and purposes the man was a marble statue with the ability to speak. “ In the future I would ask that you announce your coming as well as hold any and all curiosities to yourself until I believe there is time to address them.” It wasn’t necessarily an affront to the taller, thicker man rather it was merely a reminder of their stations. Not as Director and recruit, but as Leader and Subordinate. Since his ‘promotion’ to Director of CP9 he’d dealt with nothing, but free spirited people who seemed bent on doing as they wished—at least in regards to behavioral matters. He’d wanted that all along if not exactly cherished the idea. What he did demand of them was that in matters of policy—the orders that he issued—they obey without question or hesitation. Their personalities spoke to the fact that they would.

Mostly.

Finally letting go of the withering pages, he clasped his hands upon his desk. Eyeing Sora with much…something. Marble is not an easy stone to read or understand allowing only a sculptor of the highest quality to be able to decipher the archaic language of stone to create something wonderful. So too was the director unreadable in expression as his wandering black eyes started from the bottom-up in their examination of the oddly suited warrior. Warrior indeed. I’ll have to have someone tailor or more fitting outfit for him…should he make it. That last thought nearly drew another sigh, but the director finally continued on to his response.

“The reason I’m sending you on this mission is irrelevant. Whether I have more than one personnel prepared for the task—also irrelevant. What I’m trying to accomplish with this group…well, I think you can imagine what that is to you right now. Irrelevant.” Each word was delivered in cold, taciturn assurance of each word’s truth. The director brooked no room for slack on this subject and either the man learned this or he ‘disappeared’. “Here are the documents for your mission, read them and decide whether you’d like to do a brief training before leaving or if you would rather be sent immediately to task.” Sora would learn to choose his battles starting now and from hence forth so would the others. I will see that they do. Or burn in hell for my inequities.

((OOC: Sorry but the delay. See if we can’t shoot off about four posts each today. Also sending you mission descrip, by PM))

[Lord Bromosalino]

No sooner than he had spoken these words did Sora realize the grave mistake he had made. Usually one that lived by a strict code of customs and regulations and he had ignored them. He had made two mistakes. Firstly, he had entered the room of a superior without permission and had not announced his presence. And secondly, he had failed to show the Director the courtesy he deserved and he had spoken over him.

“Mister Akihiro…” began the Director. His eyes were what had warned Sora that his actions were unacceptable. One of the female ninja had placed a hand on his shoulder, they seemed to be able to make the Director calm down, if not, at least slightly. “In the future I would ask that you announce your coming as well as hold any and all curiosities to yourself until I believe there is time to address them.”

With a nod, Sora Akihiro had accepted the Directors words with great relief. Even though he had broken every standard of action of communication between a superior and the subordinate, the Director seemed either too tired or uncaring to care at this point. He had shown leniency and Sora would make sure to remember that well. He was under this man’s authority and should have known better. Finally the Director spoke again.

“The reason I’m sending you on this mission is irrelevant. Whether I have more than one personnel prepared for the task—also irrelevant. What I’m trying to accomplish with this group…well, I think you can imagine what that is to you right now. Irrelevant. Here are the documents for your mission, read them and decide whether you’d like to do a brief training before leaving or if you would rather be sent immediately to task.”

Sora reached out to take the small stack of papers and nodded. So here it was, the mission. Turning back to catch the light that came through the door to better make out the message written on the papers, Sora began to read the paper. It seemed that several noble families had been invited to Jascosta Island to some Frost Kingdom somewhere in the Peace Route. If Sora recalled correctly, they where somewhere on the Peace Route. Unfortunately, this was a set up by a terrorist group that were no asking for a ransom of 3,000,000 beri. It seemed that Sora would be sent in to handle the situation.

Now Sora had to make the decision. Mission or training first? The old master had said that he would like to train him in the real way of Rokushiki. Of course, he was ready for the mission. The terrorist group seemed like a small group of individuals that were probably a group of irrational and inexperienced revolutionaries. Of course, on the off chance that something went wrong, tricks like the one that the master had would come in handy.

“Interesting mission, sir. Although it doesn’t seem like anything more than a small annoyance, I would like to take part in a quick brief training session before I head out. Of course, that is unless you would have me set off immediately, sir.”

[BEX]

Nodding in agreement the director unwittingly revealed that he too, believed that Sora was in need of at least a little training before he left for the mission. Natai can handle herself at least until the cavalry arrives—I hope. He doubted his worries were ill placed; the damnable woman had a penchant to start fights that made her both desirable as well as a nuance in his eye. Had she possessed Demetri’s methodical precision she might have been a finer agent that Rob Lucci himself. No use crying over spilled milk.

“A training session it is.” he added before inclining his head towards the longer haired kunoichi at his back. Ever radiant without the black head wrapping most of her people wore, Mae’s apple shaped face was luxuriously wrapped in faded indigo hair which only highlighted the careful green of her eyes. She was a vision—even to the sons of Crysiland, but few ever spared a moment to gaze upon her without carefully plotted subterfuge. On this island ogling a woman without reason led to a good many fatal injuries if not outright death. In all the time he’d been positioned here, the Director was the only man allowed to look with impunity. Usually he only took liberties to examine Mae or Fae however. As he did now.

The habitually cold woman cast a smirk over her shoulder as she passed Sora; she knew his wolfish eyes lingered upon her. She relished in it.. Their shoulders nearly touched and the Director didn’t doubt for a moment that coaxing mountain flower scent had wafted into the taller man’s olfactory units. His breath nearly caught in his chest, but thankfully Mae simply simpered past the recruit and out into the tent without bothering to see if the other man had been distracted with her personal brand of womanly wiles. A few moments spent outside in the sweltering heat and she returned, her face as pale as alabaster despite the constant radiation outside and not an ounce of sweat dotted her forehead. In walked half a dozen black ninja, their eyes focused on the Director obediently yet they moved with a grace that suggested that a pride of mountain lions would be safer to have as house pets than they were. Sometimes his nightmares were filled with vacancy present in the eyes of those men. “Tell Roku, I would have Sora learn ‘Shigan’ before he sets off to his mission. That gives him one month. See the message as it was given. Move out.”

Not batting an eye or murmuring any signs of dissatisfaction as a whole, two men gripped Sora lightly by each arm and turned him towards the door beneath the watchful eye of the director. With no Roku presence the chain of command was crisp and understood in its entirety; the Director was sovereign where the old master—or any of the other absent masters of the island were not. Outside Anamaeus swatted the set of hands away from Sora earning a few crass looks, but nothing beyond temporary distaste for rude behavior. The man hardly noticed as he matched the long strides of his quickly made companion. “So, you’re to learn the first of Rokushiki, eh? See that you keep your wits about you or find your heart cleaved from chest at the stroke of a finger’s touch.” he laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world. A few of the other men who formed a small ring around Sora shared in the frivolity. That is…if an imagined crinkling of those lifeless eyes was any indication of humor in them. It wasn’t long before the group came upon an oasis where Roku sat cross legged upon a boulder which looked about as suitable for sitting as a bed of nettles did for sleeping, yet the crafty old bat continued on as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes staring into the distance until they finally settled upon Sora.

Owl eyes.

He examined the man carefully and silently. Anamaeus had fallen back into the indistinct protection of the synchronized group, but not before whispering, “This is your chance to ask as many questions as you want.” in Sora’s ear. No small thing when faced with a wise giant in the form of an old man.