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soveryhelpful) wrote in
one_long_mission2012-11-22 11:43 am
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[OPEN] The Strange Man's Arrival
Within hours of finding himself in this new location, he'd removed his Sound forehead protector and buried it in a copse of trees beyond a rice paddy. It was clear that there were no shinobi here, and he had no desire to stand out. What was the saying about the post that sticks up...? If captured, he would need to be able to morph his allegiances to suit, not be branded prematurely by a piece of metal. Purposefully, he'd masked his Chakra and made to blend in, smiling and earning himself the trust of a simple herbsman within the village itself. To even the most trained eye, the young man with the prematurely-grey hair had made himself a home in this so-called Michi no Sato.
Yakushi Kabuto had no home, only cover stories.
Whether this was a test of Orochimaru-sama's or a genjutsu prison devised by any one of their many enemies, Kabuto would survive, would thrive, and would eventually escape to rejoin his master. Any lingering doubts that he might eventually be happy here on his own were quickly squashed. Independence was not an option.
Within a few days, other shinobi began to arrive, some more obviously than others. Through it all, the young man only smiled, collected herbs, mashed poultices, and took careful, careful notes.
The bustle of the Frost Festival provided the perfect opportunity to personally gather more information. The shifting timelines and alternate personalities he'd observed would only be to his benefit here.
Yakushi Kabuto had no home, only cover stories.
Whether this was a test of Orochimaru-sama's or a genjutsu prison devised by any one of their many enemies, Kabuto would survive, would thrive, and would eventually escape to rejoin his master. Any lingering doubts that he might eventually be happy here on his own were quickly squashed. Independence was not an option.
Within a few days, other shinobi began to arrive, some more obviously than others. Through it all, the young man only smiled, collected herbs, mashed poultices, and took careful, careful notes.
The bustle of the Frost Festival provided the perfect opportunity to personally gather more information. The shifting timelines and alternate personalities he'd observed would only be to his benefit here.
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He trusted this younger version of Orochimaru out of desperation. But he did not trust Kabuto at all.
He took the flask with a shaky hand.
"... I'm not drinking anything... until I know what it is."
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Giving the flask a glance, Kabuto doesn't move away from the other's body, intending to analyze it as he drank. "Do not be foolish, Uchiha-san," he says mildly, as if he were genuinely concerned for the other's well-being, as a medic should be. "Why would Orochimaru-sama hasten your death with poison when you are already clearly dying without our help?"
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He studied the flask again, uncorking it. The smell alone made his eyes water.
"And just so you're warned... I will try to keep it down. But I don't think... I can make any promises..."
He took the flask to his lips, gulping, gagging and choking its contents down. His face said it all... it burned. Oh, gods, did it burn...
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He tried to control his breathing. Whether he did a good job or not was anyone's guess.
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Sleep or not, he wasn't going anywhere for a while.
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He padded over to looked at Kabuto, setting down a couple blank sheets. "Feel free to put down any added notes from what you see of mine."
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A couple of hours later he woke to a pool of bloody vomit on a sweat-drenched couch, sharp pain and gut-wrenching nausea that made him curl into a rigid ball.
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The answer to his question was more than obvious. And for the record, it burned just as bad on the way back up too.
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