Post by Daishang Goro on May 12, 2017 23:22:13 GMT
With a leisurely pace, Goro entered into the Vermillion. He was fresh from a mission that was more or less just some chores and errands that needed to be run for the elderly residents of the village. Of course Goro didn't mind that sort of work. He was happy to help his hometown however it was requested of him. Under his arm were a pair of neatly packed lunches he had received from one of the friendlier geriatric citizens he had been contracted to assist. Really he hadn't done much other than some gardening had yard work, but he assumed that the old woman appreciated his company for the few hours he was there.
The young shinobi passed by a familiar cobblestone fence. Once upon a time, it seemed like an impassable barrier containing him within the Southern District like the other children born into the Shang. Back when he was small and reliant on those barriers to keep him safe from the busier streets of Tokogakure and the world at large. But as he grew, the barrier became like a cage or a prison. He could look out at the people passing through the District, but was never able to do much more than wave a greeting and smile. Goro rested his hand on the smooth stone atop the fence. This barrier had lost its meaning as he had aged. He stopped and briefly looked up to the great walls that surrounded the entire village. Now that he had spent a year and a half as a shinobi, Goro started looking at it they way he had once looked at the stone fence he was touching now.
But that was enough retrospection, he thought to himself. He still had one last errand to run. Nothing that had been requested of him by the Village, but something he found enjoyment in. Nearby, an uncle of his was working on a small Zen garden he had put in near his home.
"Good Afternoon, Goro-san!" The middle aged pharmacist waved and called out to him. The young shinobi smiled and politely returned the greeting. "Are you heading off to the temple again?" The uncle inquired.
"Indeed I am, uncle. I've got one more delivery to make." Goro lifted one of the lunches as his smile widened.
"Well consider yourself warned. Our greatly honored Tamayori Princess is conducting training today." His tone held the edge of sternness, but was still given as lackadaisical advice.
"I thank you for your advisement, uncle! You have a good day!" Goro waved again and continued on through the district before coming to the steps of the temple.
The thought occurred to Goro that, maybe, it might be wise to wait another few minutes for the High Priestess to finish her lessons before his intrusion. The thought also occurred to him that it might have been wise to hide one of the lunches until she left. He was sure it didn't matter he did these things, though; the Tamayori Princess would still look at him with disapproving eyes. He was from a branch family and did not have the eyes of a true Shang. His blood too diluted to be fit for much in her eyes.
Quietly, Goro opened the doors to the temple in hopes of not immediately drawing her attention. But, it seemed like age had not diminished the woman's senses any. As his head peaked into the main chamber, he could almost feel the hole the old woman was trying to burn through his skull with her gaze.
"Forgive my intrusion, Grandmother, I was hoping I might borrow, Daiyu..." He could feel her glare intensify in disapproval at his lack of honorifics, so he quickly attempted to recover. " ...-sama for lunch."
The young shinobi passed by a familiar cobblestone fence. Once upon a time, it seemed like an impassable barrier containing him within the Southern District like the other children born into the Shang. Back when he was small and reliant on those barriers to keep him safe from the busier streets of Tokogakure and the world at large. But as he grew, the barrier became like a cage or a prison. He could look out at the people passing through the District, but was never able to do much more than wave a greeting and smile. Goro rested his hand on the smooth stone atop the fence. This barrier had lost its meaning as he had aged. He stopped and briefly looked up to the great walls that surrounded the entire village. Now that he had spent a year and a half as a shinobi, Goro started looking at it they way he had once looked at the stone fence he was touching now.
But that was enough retrospection, he thought to himself. He still had one last errand to run. Nothing that had been requested of him by the Village, but something he found enjoyment in. Nearby, an uncle of his was working on a small Zen garden he had put in near his home.
"Good Afternoon, Goro-san!" The middle aged pharmacist waved and called out to him. The young shinobi smiled and politely returned the greeting. "Are you heading off to the temple again?" The uncle inquired.
"Indeed I am, uncle. I've got one more delivery to make." Goro lifted one of the lunches as his smile widened.
"Well consider yourself warned. Our greatly honored Tamayori Princess is conducting training today." His tone held the edge of sternness, but was still given as lackadaisical advice.
"I thank you for your advisement, uncle! You have a good day!" Goro waved again and continued on through the district before coming to the steps of the temple.
The thought occurred to Goro that, maybe, it might be wise to wait another few minutes for the High Priestess to finish her lessons before his intrusion. The thought also occurred to him that it might have been wise to hide one of the lunches until she left. He was sure it didn't matter he did these things, though; the Tamayori Princess would still look at him with disapproving eyes. He was from a branch family and did not have the eyes of a true Shang. His blood too diluted to be fit for much in her eyes.
Quietly, Goro opened the doors to the temple in hopes of not immediately drawing her attention. But, it seemed like age had not diminished the woman's senses any. As his head peaked into the main chamber, he could almost feel the hole the old woman was trying to burn through his skull with her gaze.
"Forgive my intrusion, Grandmother, I was hoping I might borrow, Daiyu..." He could feel her glare intensify in disapproval at his lack of honorifics, so he quickly attempted to recover. " ...-sama for lunch."
