The Iron meets the Leaf [Open]

Only a brief moment into the pair’s entrance into the village, the other man, Thorfinn, ran away into the pub that Gen had led them to, seeming highly eager to begin the drinking. The man ordered a round for the two of them, a dark draft in a massive mug appearing before Gen and Thor a like. He took a drink as the other man found a random woman in the establishment, talking to her as Yogensha found the drink bitter but not unpleasant. He took another long drink, laughing into the beverage a bit as he heard his newfound friend being chatted at by the woman. He rolled his eyes as he heard her rather lame come on, but did nothing to stop it. He turned to the man on his right, the woman on the opposite side of Thor. ”Oh, I’m Gen, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Cheers!” He raised the mug up to toast to the new, budding friendship.

Gen watched in amusement as this young man, no more than a boy in fact, toasted him, giving his name. He had an interesting moniker, to say the least, foreign by the sound and certainly of a far away land, though Gen had already been provided with such information. It seemed, though, that the other kid’s stories were, in fact, true. He did seem to hail from the far north and spoke like some kind of Viking. Gen smirked as their glasses clinked, Thor including the woman he had recently acquired in the toast, something that Gen simply shrugged off until the boy found another woman, this one with the most garish of green hair, and slung her up to Gen’s side.

He turned to look at her as she was given a mug as well, smiling politely and making utterly pointless small talk for a while, a subject in which he had an extreme skill. He managed to find out that, while her hair was green, her favorite color was dark blue, that she loved makeup and knew almost nothing about ninja, that she had had an ex-boyfriend who she left because she didn’t like his hair – but she did like Gen’s – and that she lived a few blocks away from here in a white apartment building, number 117. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes constantly, but outwardly his face never belied the torture that her presence brought. As predicated, she answered question after question and volunteered seemingly endless information about herself, all while learning literally nothing about Gen, including his name.

After a short time he’d finished his beer and returned to the bartender, ordering something a bit stronger. Three small glasses filled with a clear liquid appeared before him, courtesy of the bartender from whom he received excellent service, likely as a result of his clan, and he passed one to the green haired girl and did two himself. The shots went down extremely smoothly, a perk of ordering exclusively top shelf liquor, and the girl giggled after she took hers. He had, meticulously, avoided learning her name and she’d clearly been drinking long before he’d arrived. He figured that he could simply get her drunk beyond reason and then pass her off to either one of her friends nearby or some other random bar goer.

They day, yet young but transitioning into night, was burning quickly with beer flowing and woman coming and going. The mugs filled up between the four people gathered at the bar and, as they wound down – at least for this local – Thor stood to produce some money to hand over to the bar tender. Gen mirrored this action, hauling a hunk of cash from one of his pockets and passing it to the man working at the counter, not bothering to look at the amount. As they rose, Gen’s lady friend scampering away to acquire a new friend who would buy her free drinks, the boy, Thor, hauled a giant chest up onto the table and asked Gen something rather intriguing. ”Well, I daresay I’m no blades master myself, but I do know a thing or two.” He waved one of the bartenders off, the man perturbed about the large chest appearing. He did not practice the art of the blade, but he knew how to appreciate a fine sword no doubt. If anything, the man was a collector of all sorts of rare goods, blades being only one. ”I assume a sword lies in the chest?” He smiled broadly.

As the two spoke, another arrived, a young boy who sprinted into the place and sat down on a wooden stool at the end of the bar. Gen’s eyes quirked at the new arrival before turning his attention back to his newfound friend. He’d caught the boy’s eye, probably some street urchin who drifted in and would be shooed out quickly, but he paid him little mind, comparatively speaking for one who habitually takes in all details presented to him. He moved his eyes to the huge chest the boy was hulking around before resting them back on Thor, eager to hear what it was he’d come across and stored in this chest.

Oh ho ho, something terribly interesting indeed had happened. Inside that massive wooden chest rested only a scroll, marked with the number “7.” Gen quirked an eyebrow once more at this, shifting his gaze between the scroll and the boy who had lugged it around in this huge chest. What could he possibly have stored in here? Gen had an inkling, a hope more than anything really, but he would not allow himself to get overly giddy over little more than a number and a talk of swords. He waited as the boy unfurled the paper and unsealed the weapon, the puff of smoke irritating the bartender, though he said nothing, and alarming the patrons for a brief second before they returned to their drinks and revelry.

And here it was, Hiramekarei, a legendary blade, one of seven, said to have been forged by a master smith in the distant Land of Water, and imbued with amazing powers. Gen’s eyes widened in astonishment as he saw the thing, hearing as the boy said he was selling it for no other reason that it did not fit his fighting style. Odd, to say the least, but the dark haired man could appreciate the sentiment, at least in the abstract. Not everything held the same worth for different people. Gen looked over the blade, green eyes rushing all about it, confirming that it indeed appeared to be the real deal. ”And just how, my friend, did you come across this little gem?” He studied the sword for a moment longer, hand hovering over the blade. ”Do you mind if I touch it?” Should the other allow him, he would touch the blade, attempting to subtly shift its amazing weight, only to find that he could not, and feeling it drain chakra at his touch. ”Yes, quite. I’ll take if off your hands, if you truly wish to part with it.” Should the man acquiesce, Gen would produce a stack of cash from his wallet before handing it over and ordering one final drink for him and his friend. They did, after all, have other bars to see.

The sword sold, Gen saw as the blade once more returned to its scroll, taking with it another portion of rich energy from him. The man could taste the blade and its voracious thirst for chakra, unexpected as compared to what he assumed Samehada would feel like. Hira seemed colder, more controlled, and much smoother than he envisioned the texture of Samehada would be. Interesting, to say the least, and Yogensha found a sense of curiosity overtake him as he mused at how long the blade would continue to drink. Unlikely that the thing could drain him, but he would need to ensure to maintain a check over the strange blade locked away in the scroll that he tucked into his jacket.

And then the two were off, slapping down their money upon the bar and exiting to a request from Thor, the boy looking for a different sort of entertainment. Gen offered him a sly grin thrown over his shoulder as he lead the way into the street, commenting on the venues available. ”Hm… the brothels aren’t well recommended at this hour, but there’s a nice place down the street here. Fancy lights, dancing, if that’s your thing, nice drinks, strippers, and a plethora of available women.” He winked at the boy as he moved down the street, swaying a bit as he went and chatting with a few passing drunks before opening the door out of the growing light of day and into an underground darkness of neon and throbbing sound.

New blood was always a welcome sight and popular attraction at the bars, particularly this one, and Gen saw as the woman – and some of the men – glued their eyes onto the boy he’d brought with him. He smirked, the smile alternatively blacked out by the low lighting and illuminated in brilliant, otherworldly colors, his teeth lighting up like a collection of glow sticks under a mixture of color filters and black light bulbs. They pair elbowed and jived their way to up to the bar, Thor ordering a bottle of something Gen didn’t see and Gen himself ordering a large glass filled with what appeared to be a varying amount of just about every type of top shelf liquor the bartender had at his disposal. Once they’d gotten their beverages of choice, Gen clinked his glass against his friend’s bottle, smiling and speaking up over the thrum of music and chatter of people. ”Well well, you seem to have attracted quite a few looks. Shall we?” He turned his body, gesturing to the crammed dancefloor. He leaned forward, speaking more quietly to the boy, inclining his head to a group of women openly staring at the two. ”Oh, and feel free to take your pick. It looks like most of the people here would be happy to go home with you.” He winked once more before turning and moving into the swarm of people.

Music, men, women, alcohol, pounding music and neon lights, bar tenders, sweat and radiant body heat, a mist of smoke of all kinds, drugs or otherwise, and pills passed around from and to every hand. All of it faded away, faded into a blackness of profound nature, faded away into a total lack of memory for most of the people involved. The Old One simply laughed in the dark haired man’s head, though he suspected that the creature had something to do with the memory loss; he’d drank a good amount, but not enough that he should fully lose memories, something which he’d only experienced on one or two occasions, a cursed perfect memory plaguing him from a young age.

He woke up in a bed though. Cream sheets surrounded his body and a collection of pillows supported his hair, a crazy and spiked affair matted on one side of his head where he’d slept. He looked around, taking in the muted browns of the room, the soft cream walls, the dark wood of the dresser topped with a photo of a family and a couple unruly kids. Gen quirked an eye at this, at the abandoned cat toy on the ground, a multicolored buff of fuzz, at the doll sitting out the open door. He moved, leaning forward and stepping off the end of the bed, dragging the sheets with him as he went and looking around for clothing. A disgruntled sound emerged from behind him, something which he found odd when compared to the smell of coffee wafting through the house.

Turning, he was met with the waking form of a man, blond hair thick and shoulders wide. He turned, smiling at Gen with a pair of dark blue eyes, blinding teeth, and strong jaw. The darker haired man stared for a few beats, mouth opened and eyebrow raised, trying to figure out who was in the kitchen. Shaking his head a bit, he moved off the bed, padding his way into the adjacent living room and seeing a woman, clad in a sheer dressing gown, carrying a pot of coffee and plate heaping with eggs towards him. He’d dropped the sheets, which made her smile, and the man appeared behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his chin on the opposite shoulder. Gen flinched just a bit, but was quickly calmed by the pleasant aroma of coffee and food. Shrugging, he went back to the bed to eat.

He left thirty minutes later, clad in some random collection of white shirt and jeans, his clothes having seemingly vanished, but he ensured to reclaim his knives and scrolls, stored on the low dresser across from the bed. He carried the scroll which had contained the legendary blade within it but had since moved the seal onto his body, placing upon the top of his right shoulder, at least for now. As he made his way home, the vibrating laughing of the Old One echoed through his bones, alighting him with a rather gross knowledge of vomiting himself out of his body and spontaneously transmute himself into a giant serpent, something he was passively aware of already. The thing did the equivalent of snickering. Here, I think you earned this one. Yogensha rolled his eyes and departed. He’d have to find his newfound friend from the Mist at some point.