Time and Time Again [mission]

[Lang]

For a breezy morning like so many others, just days after Team Yokumaru's last mission together, this one carried a somber ambiance the instant Rael awoke that morning. His mood seemed to be rather inconsistent over the last while, ranging from a carefree and amicable nature that developed during his medic stint, to the quiet and melancholic aura he retained from his previous profession. Forgoing a well-rounded breakfast, as he simply downed a glass of water and consumed the last banana left on the fruit platter in his kitchen, the entire morning preparations took him less than teen minutes, and Rael was soon out the front door.

The contents of his weapon satchel were already checked and double-checked the previous evening, and Rael did no more than open the top flap, giving everything a cursory glance before nodding to himself. Oddly enough, his tantō was missing once again; the young Genin seemed reluctant to carry anything bladed, aside from the standard kunai and shuriken. Should everything proceed as planned, however, even those would be unnecessary. Rael did not particularly enjoy fighting straight-up with his adversaries, and so if possible, would resort to less glorious methods to complete the mission objective.

Whatever that was.

Rael was still in the dark as to what Yokumaru had lined up for them, 'them' being just the earliest three in the team. It was unlikely to require all four members present, and the trio would be back home before lunchtime. Arriving at the same juice vendor their 4-man group gathered around just days ago, he sidled up against the stall's adjacent wall and leaned back, waiting patiently for his sensei and other male Genin counterpart to arrive so they could get this over with.

[kagirinai]

[STYLE=margin: 15px 80px 15px 80px; text-align: justify;font-family: arial;font-size: 10px;] Indistinguishable from the triad of mornings prior, I woke from a sleep beleaguered by evocative, unsettling nightmares, the horrors distended with humiliation and disrepute; all derived from my near run-in with death, I had no doubt. Despite the days elapsed, I dwell troubled by the past event. Hence my isolation during the time following the B-rank, bar the eternal company of my serpentine kin, locked in my minim apartment with naught to do besides reflect on the ill-fated occurrence.

It existed as an attack on my formerly unmitigated demeanor; I had never been overwhelmed in such a way before, and to have been healed, even saved, by a peer.. The entire ordeal was traumatizing; I'd never felt so low, even moreso in the wake of this ominous morning. While afforded a few days free, orders were that I'd be forced to meet with them again, this time to embark on a mission even more difficult than the last. Why Yokumaru persisted with such grueling tasks, I couldn't be sure, perhaps owing to my current, deformed mindstate, as even I may have felt myself ready prior to the accident. My old self would've been eager, excited even.

The present me, however, was broodful; anxious of assembling with the only two shinobi to have ever seen me at my weakest. With any less direction, I may have simply refused, instead requesting a separate squad, though a certain, newly-surfaced cause wouldn't let me. The newfound purpose, brought to me as more of an urge than anything else, would be to rectify my actions, image, and reputation by proving myself to the two. I had fallen victim to an unforeseen adversary; it had taught me a plethora of lessons, too instilling in me an obligation to make sure it never happened again. My resolve was undying; I would mend my position amongst them. I felt that only then, once my standing was repaired, could my artfully sly self be brought back.

First, however, would be the task of priming; preparing for the inevitable meeting. A hurried shower, garbing, gathering of tools, and the decision against breakfast routed me out from my secreted domicile. I paced my poised, albeit grim gait toward the heart of Kirigakure, following the listed, winding directions that would deliver me out from my barren fragment of the village and into its most bustling region.

Meandering through surprisingly sparse crowds of civilian and shinobi, I eventually reached the sect of occupied land wherein we were scheduled to meet, now doing my part in searching for Yokumaru, a man discernible among any crowd due to his abnormal height. A moment of searching revealed his absence; it was a surprise, our Jōnin instructor usually the first to arrive, waiting for us as I'd now wait for him. Regardless, I continued to survey the area amid stalled time, eventually sighting the familiar, fleeting figure that was Rael's, his gait seemingly in route for a nearby juice vendor. My gaze honing over him through the small rifts in the surrounding, scattered crowds, I gathered myself and my words before moving to congregate.

My vision scrutinized his being more closely in my approach, viewing his compact deportment and relaxed, leaning posture. Taking in his own raiments, I presented myself in garbs that'd be undoubtedly alien to his eyes, as well Yokumaru's once he'd arrive; a set I discovered following the research of my ophidian lineage, garments of oto ♪. Their cardinal constitution being that of a flowing top, its front open slightly, tight-fitting, dark bottoms, and a middling article fastened via purple, rope sash belt.

Toying with the chokuto positioned along my waste, I'd eye him inelegantly, the flicker of a smile and bowing of my head precedent to my phantasmal voice.

"Rael-san.. here we are again; I won't be needing you this time."
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