An Unexpected Reunion [closed]

Tsumi Buredo, the 7-tails Jinchuuriki, strolled through the capital city, away from his bi-monthy “Check-up”. It was nice to be noticed every one in awhile, but he always felt like a ghost when he was there. Half of the people there didn't even know his NAME, let alone care about his well-being. Every two months, Tsumi got the same grim reminder, that he rated just below BEASTS with these people. All they cared about was the monster inside him.


Tsumi always managed to smile, however. He was a very smiley person- almost childishly so. In fact, he was very much a child at heart, always smiling, even when he was sad. His childish, larger-than-life grin fit well on his face, complimenting his other features, such as his white hair, and accenting the grey streaks. His steely, dichromatic eyes peering through his unruly mane of hair. His “normal eye” was a subtle grey, while the other was a complete negative image, the whites of the eye having turned black, while the iris turned white. As for clothing, Tsumi wore his metal vest, metal gloves, and stretchable pants, which were custom-made, to easily cope with sudden movement. His pants were made up of three layers: On the outside, overlapping metal plates, which offered decent defense, while not hindering movement. Next, in the middle, was generic chain mail, which further boosts his defense, while augmenting mobility. On the inside, there is a layer of seal skin, which keeps Tsumi’s legs dry and comfortable at all times. On Tsumi’s chest was a birthmark, in the shape of a Z.

Tsumi's inner monologue was suddenly shattered, however, as a loud voice rang out.

“Wait for meeee!” Tsumi yelled. “Nippon? Why?” Said Tsumi's alternate personality, Z. Z was the polar opposite of Tsumi- cold, calculating, and a trained killer. Also, very sarcastic. Tsumi could, at any given time, relenquish control of his body, and give it over to Z. Z's movements were, generally, much more refined than Tsumi's, and he had at least TWICE the combat prowess. In fact, the only thing that Tsumi could do better was climb. No one could out-climb Tsumi. “Yeah! Why not? There's a dojo there- maybe I could learn to fight better!” Tsumi said, internally. “Well, it's your body...” Z said, obviously opposed to the idea.

Soon enough, Tsumi was on the island of Nippon. There, he sought out the dojo of Onigiri-sensei. Sure enough, he soon found a dojo with the giant letters “ONIGIRI” displayed above it. “How conceitied.” Z said. Thankfully, no one else could hear him, or else Tsumi would be in big trouble.

Tsumi entered the dojo, approaching the sensei. “Onigiri-sensei! I'd like to train here, under you! Pleeaassseee?” he said. The sensei looked at him, and nearly tripped. “Y-you're the J-jinchuuriki! Here, j-just take my money! Take it all!” the man said, beginning to throw handfuls of copper coins at him. It was kind of painful. “Hey, hey, hey, heyheyheyheyhey! I don't want your money- I just want to train here! I promise!” Tsumi said.

The sound of metal pelting the wall abruptly stopped. “O-oh. Right. Very well, our next class will begin shortly. Come with me.” Onigiri-sensei said, collecting himself.

Soon enough, Tsumi was training next to a bow-wielding girl. He briefly wondered if he should say hi- it would at least be polite, right?

Tsumi was brought into the training room, and introduced. He began looking around the room, sizing up each classmate. They all looked fairly predicatably, save for one in particular, who appeared to be.... blushing? Someone was blushing at him. He could feel the blood rush to his face- he was blushing. There was only one thing to do at a time like this. He gave control of the body to Z.

Tsumi blinked once, his eye color changing instantly from it's normal grey, to a glowing, iridescent green. His blush faded instantly, replaced instead with an analytical glare. The blush that was coming to his face was squished instantly, by pure monotony. Z scanned the room, sizing up each and every student. He started on the nearest student. 5”9, 25-30, earthbender, favored his left leg, preferred projectile weapons. Likely a drunkard. The next one- Waterbender, male, insecure, 6 feet, right-handed, preferred spears. The list went about halfway through the room, before the sensei spoke again, interrupting his analysis.


Well, that was forboding.
Tsumi, and the girl named Yami, proceeded outside, to the eastern portion of the training ground. Once they were out of earshot, the girl spoke. “My name's Yami. You're Tsumi, right? I had a cousin named Tsumi, but I haven't seen him in almost ten years. What a coincidence, that you have the same name..." she said.

“Yami.... the n-name's f-familiar.” Tsumi said, his natural inability to do anything around women kicking in. The name seemed so very familiar, as if it tied to someone he should know, but didn't. Alas, as most children don't, Tsumi had very little memory of when he was six years old (about the time that Yami left the village).


“A-anyway! We should p-probably get to t-training.” Tsumi said. Looking over, toward the wall of the dojo, he could see a barrel full of practice weapons. He strolled over to them, and took out two practice swords, putting his own two swords, The Stained Soul, and The Dreambreaker, on the ground. Beside the practice swords, he glimpsed a barrel with a wooden bow (which Yami wouldn't need, unless she intended to hit him with her bow), and wooden, flat-tipped arrows, with packets of red paint on the end, which exploded on contact, leaving a red mark where the arrow hit.

After Yami had retrieved whatever weapons she had chosen to use, Tsumi would take a combat stance. “I'm not very good at words... but don't underestimate me, when it comes to combat!” Tsumi said, becoming his usual self. He was strangely comfortable around this girl- perhaps they HAD met somewhere. Only time would tell.

Yami indicated that their spar had begun, and Tsumi instantly began strafing, keeping a sharp eye on where she was aiming. Along with that, he held out his left hand in front of him, swirling the air currents around it, effectively shielding himself from projectiles. He moved the air in a sort of an obtuse cone. The point of the cone was directly in front of his face, and the rest of the air provided amazing coverage. He grasped his left forearm with his right hand, feeding juice through it. Along with that, he shot his trademark dark purple flame out of the middle of the cone, which swirled a little, but, for the most part, stayed straight. Of course, it was not too intense of a flame- it was only a spar, after all.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tsumi saw what appeared to be a man peeking over the Dojo's wall. He disregarded it- the man probably had his reasons. Maybe he had lost one of his belongings here, or something. However, there were more pressing matters at hand, such as the girl in front of him, who he may or may not have met before. He intended to find out; directly or indirectly.

Yami began firing arrows, matching Tsumi's strafe with her own. As practice arrows, they were no match for Tsumi's multi-elemental defense. Some were deflected by the air shield, others caught by the fire, but none made it through to Tsumi. However, one of her arrows went wide, hitting the man that was peeking over the wall. He appeared to be angry, and prepared. Vaulting over the wall, the man drew a longsword, as others that looked to be of his same caliber began emerging from bushes, trees, and all sorts of other hiding places. They all emerged with grins on their faces- though, they weren't friendly grins. No, they were more the kind of “Let's-see-what-color-your-insides-are” grins, that storybook villains wear.

“Ok, now the danger is REAL. Give me the body!” Z said. “No, I want a chance to fight something for real! If I get to where I'm in trouble, I'll give you the body. Getting out of a tight spot shouldn't be any trouble for a trained killer, right?” Tsumi said, internally. Z grumbled, but gave in, allowing Tsumi to keep control, without complaint.

Tsumi made a mad dash for his real weapons, which he had set down next to the barrels of practice practice weapons. He was nimble enough to dodge around most of the men, and even scorch one of their faces, but just as he was about to grab his weapons, he received a black bag over his head, which was accompanied by rope on his wrists. He could hear them speaking, and their words made the situation even worse.

“Oi, take 'em back to the hideout. We'll figger' out 'ow to deal wif' 'em there.”

Tsumi came to, several hours later, the black bag still over his head. He was sitting in an iron chair, restrained with iron cuffs. He could hear shallow breathing nearby- presumably, Yami's. He had no idea if she was awake or not, but there was no time to waste.

An instant later, he could hear the loud grinding of a rusty door opening, and the breathing of two of the men. The room was rather cold- they must have been underground. Not much time to calculate, however, as the warm, pungent breath of one of the bandits could be felt behind him. “Oi.
Who are ye?” The man said. Tsumi's first decision was intimidation tactics. Of course, he was not a very intimidating person by himself, so he gave the body over to Z. For, you see, when Z had control of the body, his voice was substantially deeper than Tsumi's.

Z spoke aloud, through Tsumi's mouth, in his incredibly low voice. “Tsumi Buredo, 7-tail Jinchuuriki. Know what that means? That means your lives were forfeit, the minute that door closed behind you. If I were you- He exhaled fire, burning the sack over his head right off. -I would be afraid. VERY afraid. Now, your options have narrowed down to a perfect split: Undo these restraints, and die quickly, or waste time until I escape, and watch your friend burn, followed by being slowly consumed by flames, from the feet up, whilst choking, unable to scream.”

He finished elegantly, glaring at the front man, never breaking eye contact. Z's eyes were cold- they betrayed nothing of his true intentions, instead only letting on his killing intent. He had every intention of backing up what he had said. For effect, he inhaled, and exhaled fire onto his iron cuffs. When he ran out of breath, he blew smoke into the man's face.

“Yami, you awake yet?”