Bright white light illuminated the room. It was really hard to have just ignored, seeming to have been growing brighter and brighter as the moments passed while the silver haired young man's eyes were closed. Would it be a wise choice to open his eyes? Surely, the lights would blind him, and he already hated them enough. For it to have impaired his vision, he would have had a greater scapegoat for his disdain towards bright lights. After agitating him enough, he decided to awaken, grasping his head in pain as he sat up. He was feeling a slight pain in the back of his head. "Man, the b*****d really hit me hard... I'm gonna have to pay him a visit some time, and teach him a lesson on low blows," he grumbled. Back at prison, he got into a fight with one of the toughest guys around. The boy wasn't a pushover; in fact he was the one who caused all of the commotion, which resulted in his defeat.
How did he get sent to prison in the first place? The guy was a gang member, and one with a high seating among his peers, ultimately caught in the act of committing crimes for years. Usually, he was the one who was sent out to do some of the more dangerous feats, such as robbing banks, or getting Intel on opposing gangs for their impending destruction. In a nutshell, he was their ace. They enjoyed his company just as much as they enjoyed his contributions. The augmentations for the gang's growth quickly allowed him to rise as a more prestigious gangster, and he took great pride in it, or rather, he used to. He was to be doing time for a great portion of his life. He was lucky to have not been sentenced to death. Although they were a strong gang, the police had bigger fish to fry. They just happened to not be one of them. His life in prison was going to be long and fierce.
Speaking of prison, his surroundings were odd, unrecognizable, and certainly did not look anything like a prison. The scenery was more of a hotel, and one with a pretty low budget, or rather, old. The atmosphere around him seemed to have been quiet and ominous, yet gloomy. Light green paint peeled off of the walls, leaving only the white base color showing. The drawer had three rusted handles to them, all of the compartments were also emptied, and the desk looked worn down with age. The lighting from the bulbs in the ceiling was non-existent. ”They should really pay their electric bill some time…” the boy remarked. He got up from his bed, heading over to the drapes that shielded the windows from the outside world, uncovering them. Through the smashed windows, all that was visible was debris; a ruined city cast with shadows that hid a lot of broken building pieces. ”What is this? Am I that far into the ghetto?” The floors were carpeted beige, dirt staining into it deeply, along with what seemed to have been a bit of blood. Perhaps someone got a paper cut and the red liquid happened to spill? Maybe a killer lived here and forgot to clean off his murder tool? His beliefs were leaned more towards the second options, not by preference, but by supporting evidence for what he saw upon the table. There was an Iron spear that seemed to have been in a bad condition. Thinking about how one should survive with a blade upon a slightly worn stick was something that should have never been thought about in his situation. He had no idea where he was, so the protection of a weapon, whether seemingly reliable or not was something that he was grateful for. The place did not register at any place in his memory, not that it would for whatever reason. He had a home managed by himself; he had no need to live in a hotel. As long as he was still living, he was fine. He went over towards the spear, picking it up and walking towards one of two doors in sight. One led to the outside, he assumed, and the other was probably the bathroom. He didn’t bother to check in there. He was disturbed enough with the dark scenery that he was placed in, and really wanted to look around for a while. God knows what was to await him in the bathroom.
Leaving from the hotel room, he was met with an empty hallway filled with dust, as if the place were some sort of ancient landmark that hadn’t been touched since B.C. times. ”Electricity, janitors, advertisement… So far, that’s all the place really needs. Maybe I could even make this place a hideout after fixing it up a bit,” he thought aloud, his hand placed on his chin and slowly rubbing it, as if he had some sort of beard to rub. Ironic, in truth, he hated most facial hair. Unless it was kept shaved and taken care of properly, he preferred to not see it at all. Down the hall, he was met with two options. The first seemed to have been a long flight of stairs, and the other was the elevator. Seeing as nobody seemed to have been working here, he didn’t find taking the elevator as a valid choice. If they weren’t out of order, he still did not want to take the risk. That was easily setting him up to getting himself trapped. He decided to take the scenic route. Instead of coming down by foot, he decided to descend by choice of sliding down the railings that were set off to the side. They got the back of his pants and jacket pretty dusty as he reached the last set of steps, but it was nothing that couldn’t have been dusted off of him. There he was, finally in the main lobby area. ”About time, I was really starting to get bored...” There was only one way in, and one way out of the lobby. Before his exit, he looked around, taking a mental note to come back some time in the future. The place was old and abandoned. The chance of the cops finding him was pretty slim. The thing is, he himself didn’t know how he managed to escape prison. He was pretty sure that he blacked out a long while ago from the pain inflicted to his body. Of course, he was still hurting from the beating, but for the most part, he felt better.
Finally, he left the building, his body wrapped in darkness. First, a flash of bright lights, and now, sudden darkness? Things felt pretty unnatural. Where was he? Why was he in the hotel? Why were there visions of light and darkness out of nowhere? How did he escape? Although they piqued his curiosity, he didn't ponder upon them for very long. He was sure that things would come to him eventually. He really didn't want to think about it now. He didn't want to make the same mistakes twice, neither. As a personal decision, he was going to lay low from the police for a while, and stay as far away from gang activities as possible. Jail was not very pretty. A lot of bad things went down there, but they were avoidable after not affiliating with anyone. There were more enemies there than anywhere he's ever seen, even greater threats than rival gang members. Looking back, he noticed that the building that he was once resting in vanished. Blinking and rubbing his eyes, it appeared that his eyes were not deceiving him. The place really was gone! "Well then, I'm glad that I didn't leave anything behind," he said, tone indifferent. Turning back towards the path of debris, he began his walk down the road, kicking a few stones along on the way.
◆ Where am I?The Morning Hotel. ◆ What am I doing?Breathing. Walking around. ◆ Who am I with?Nobody. ◆ How do I feel?Confused, but fine. ◆ OOC:1337 words. Coincidence? I THINK NOT.
Genin ll Kumogakure no Sato ll Bukijutsu Main Class ll Medical Sub Class ll Dokuton ll Chakra Pool: 230/230 ll Stamina Pool: 220/220
Yawning aloud, the young man groggily made his way to the entrance of the tower, waving off to the greeting ANBU shinobi who stood guard, a bawled fist raised to the his emerald hues, rubbing away the sleep in a coupled few twists of his wrist. Quick to break from his sleepy state, Meran made haste in his ascent up the stairway to the Raikage's office. Today was a rather special day for him, as this was to mark the beginning of his shinobi career! He was excited, each step of the spiraling staircase made him even more anxious. Internally, he began to think of what his fellow squadmates would be like. Would they have the same calm demeanor and accepting hearts as Shizuou, the one who's taken him in as one of his own, or would they not be as easy to get along with as he plans? Who knows! Whatever the case may be, his pondering was only to have been time wasted away. He was off to see him, receive his headband, and aspire to greatness! Upon reaching the peaking point of the steps, he was met with a familiar face. Calling out from behind the figure was Meran, his voice somewhat of a baritone, and calm. "Yasuhiro-kun, are you here to see the Raikage as well?" His head tilted over to get a better view of his friend's face, taking note to the uneasiness in his expression. "Ah, you need not worry. He's a good guy." Finishing what he was about to start, Meran's knuckles went for a knock at the door, the sound reverberating throughout the upper levels.
