Rain District

Optional Read: (Summary: Yonrochi is at YONROCHI WATERFALL™)

The drizzle of the Rain Village cast a reflective sheen over the streets, but the quiet was quickly interrupted by a lively, cheerful voice. In the croud a young Cowgirl heard a man inquire about the Amekage. After hearing people respond to the Hokage "Sorry, I can't help you..." "Beats me..." "No idea, sorry I cant do more Lord Hokage!" She decided to intervene.

“Excuse me! YES, excuse me, Lord Hokage, right?”

A woman approached with a bounce in her step, her cow-patterned dress clinging elegantly to her frame. She stood out sharply against the village’s somber tones, her blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail, and a confident smile lighting her face. Her playful demeanor made her seem like she belonged to another world entirely.

“I’m a Cowgirl!” she exclaimed, gesturing to herself with pride. “We came to this village not long after the Rainmen won sovereignty. Lord Yonrochi wanted familiar faces around, and, well, we waitresses were happy to take the pay increase! We used to work in shady bars, but now we serve the public—it’s a much nicer gig, you know?”

She tilted her head slightly, her violet earrings glinting faintly. “If you ever see one of us around, feel free to ask us anything!”

Her tone grew slightly more helpful as she continued. “Looking for Lord First, are you? He’s at the Yonrochi Waterfalls. I’d be happy to take you there if you’d like!” With an energetic bow, she waited for a response, radiating charm and enthusiasm that stood out like sunlight breaking through the perpetual drizzle of the Rain Village.

IF HE WAS TO GO: YONROCHI Waterfall (Afternoon):_________________________________________


Tokage sat beneath the shade of a sprawling tree, his fountain pen gliding across the pages of his weathered journal. A few yards away, Yonrochi meditated beneath the cascading waterfall, the steady rhythm of water drumming against his shoulders as one of his many robotic creations rested between his legs.

The tranquil scene shattered in an instant. Yonrochi's spine straightened with an abrupt jolt, as if struck by an unseen bolt of lightning. At the same moment, a sharp crack split through the still air as Tokage's glasses fractured, a jagged line spreading across one lens like a spider's web.

Tokage adjusted his glasses, trying to ignore the faint pressure in the air as his pen resumed its deliberate movements across the journal. But his thoughts were restless.

Tokage (thoughts): I wonder if Lord First feels it too. This presence—light, but suffocating, like a like a drop in a puddle...a foreign chakra... I should stay silent until more becomes clear. But if this keeps up... Hmp, there won’t be a drop of Rain left to rebuild.

His sharp gaze drifted down the river, catching the faintest ripples betraying hidden shinobi. ANBU-level—no doubt about it. Only the crowns of their heads and the sharp glint of their masked eyes broke the surface of the water, but their intent was clear. They were watching.


Meanwhile, Yonrochi sat unmoving under the pounding cascade, save for the subtle tension Tokage noticed when his back shot straight moments earlier. Had he sensed the presence too? That’s what Tokage assumed. Then again... perhaps the old man was just stretching.

His suspicions lingered as Yonrochi reached up, scratched his head lazily, and broke the silence.

“Tokage?” Yonrochi’s voice carried over the sound of rushing water.

“Lord First?” Tokage quickly replied, his grip tightening around his pen.

“I don’t hear your pen scratching parchment anymore,” Yonrochi said, turning his head slightly, a wry smile curving his lips. “Are you troubled, son?”

Tokage froze for a moment before forcing a nervous grin. “Not at all, forgive me. I’ll get back to it then, h-heh—”

He bent over the journal, scribbling furiously in exaggerated strokes. “See? Nothing to it! Ha-ha!”

Yonrochi raised a brow at the strange display before shaking his head with a grunt. “Hmp... what a peculiar young man. And yet, who am I to talk?”

With that, Yonrochi closed his eyes again, resuming his meditation beneath the roaring waterfall, his mind steady. Tokage, however, stole one last glance toward the river, his grip on his pen tightening as unease gnawed at his thoughts.
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Inugami: “I apologize for my tardiness. I’ve had a lot of tasks on my plate, but thankfully, I’m off now.”​

Click to expand...

Delta #15: “What’s the job, bub?”​

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Inugami: “Could you not—!”​

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Shokaku and Fugu
Shokaku’s narrowed eyes slid over the young man like a blade testing its prey. Fugu leaned casually against the wall, his shark-like grin widening as he pulled out a battered cigarette case. With practiced ease, he lit one, shielding the flickering flame from the damp air with his calloused hands. The ember caught, glowing faintly in the dim light.

Fugu exhaled a stream of smoke, his voice gravelly and dripping with amusement. “So, Sho here thinks we ought to get the old order back on its feet...” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Now that Yonrochi’s gone. That arrogant bastard. Someone should’ve… ah, never mind.” His gaze fixed on the young man, smoke curling around his sharp features. “So, kid, you in, or are we wasting our breath?”

Shokaku’s cold, calculating gaze turned to the chameleon at Inugami’s side, his expression unreadable. The faintest frown tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Boy’o even managed to snag a specimen of that nurse’s summoning,” Fugu continued, his laughter breaking the tension. He reached out a hand, his grin broadening. “Let’s have a look at that thing! What a guy, huh?”

Shokaku’s voice cut through the air, low and deliberate. “Is this even Tokage?” He barely moved, his eyes flickering between Inugami and the creature with icy precision. “That lizard seems far too chummy… Then again, I’ve yet to meet the man in person.”

Fugu’s laughter echoed like a blade scraping stone as he laughed reaching his hand out.

Shokaku stepped forward, his presence heavy and commanding, like a storm about to break. His voice was calm, but each word carried weight. “The goal is simple: reclaim what’s ours and take acquisition of the leaf. Their arrogance has gone unchecked for far too long and they have long used us for--.” His piercing gaze locked onto the young man. “--Tell me, child—what is our village known for?”


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Yonrochi and Tokage

Elsewhere, the rain fell in thick sheets, cascading over the jagged cliffs of the Hidden Rain Village. The sound of rushing water roared as Yonrochi stood before the great waterfall, his cloak billowing in the downpour. His yellow eyes gleamed with a dangerous mixture of arrogance and cunning.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Leaf, come to reclaim what they couldn’t hold,”

Yonrochi sneered, his tone dripping with mockery. “Or maybe you’re here to declare another war on our land, hmn? What’s the body count this time, Hokage? Maybe release bijuu again?” He licked his lips, his smirk widening as he leaned forward slightly, his presence daring yet unshaken. “The Mist has their sword... What’s your excuse?”

Behind him, Tokage bowed deeply, his movements precise and calculated. His smile was polite, but the glint of ambition in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Forgive my lord,” Tokage said smoothly, his voice calm and composed. “I’m sure your journey has been long, Lord Hokage. May we offer you accommodations in the palace?”

His glasses caught the light, obscuring his expression as he straightened, the faintest bead of sweat tracing down his temple.

"His power is immense,” Tokage thought, his mind racing. “The office of the Hokage… it’s not just a title. It’s a throne for gods of the shinobi world. I can’t afford to falter here. Even if he seems a bit off... mechanical even..."

Tokage’s smile grew sharper, a calculated glimmer crossing his face. “Perhaps we should show you the bridge we’ve been working on. It’s nearing completion and represents the unity we’ve strived for. A symbol of progress, wouldn’t you agree lord first?”

"Oh that old thing? I merely forgot." Yonrochi responded with a flap of his wrist.

@Lori

The small, run-down hotel room was dimly lit, the sound of rain pattering against the cracked windows mixing with the faint hum of a flickering light. Fugu lounged on a tattered couch, his massive frame sinking into the worn cushions as he toyed idly with the hilt of his sword. His sharp-toothed grin never faltered, a constant expression of casual menace. Across the room, Shokaku stood by the window, his back straight, his hands clasped behind him as he peered out at the rain-soaked streets below.

The door creaked open, and Lori stepped inside. Both men turned their attention toward him, their sharp eyes locking onto the young man. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the steady drip of water from a leak in the ceiling.

Shokaku frowned, his gaze narrowing as if dissecting the man before him. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "Fear." He let the word hang in the air, his expression unreadable. "That’s what you believe defines us, isn’t it? Fear and power, and all that, most say fear."

He nodded to himself as he stepped away from the window, his movements slow and deliberate. "You’re not wrong. Fear is a weapon we’ve honed to perfection. But it’s not enough. Fear alone doesn’t inspire change—it must be paired with vengeance." His tone sharpened as he spoke the word, his eyes glinting with purpose.

From the couch, Fugu let out a sharp laugh, his voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, give me a break, Shokaku. Vengeance? That’s what you’re going with? Of all the words you could’ve said—HMP!—you choose that?" He smirked, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back. "I’d say resilience. That’s what we’re about. No matter how many times we get knocked down, we always get back up, stronger and meaner than before."

Shokaku turned sharply, his cold gaze silencing Fugu’s laughter. His voice was steady, each word measured like the edge of a blade. "Resilience without purpose is just survival. And survival isn’t enough. Vengeance is the flame that ignites the engine of the Rain. Yonrochi should be conquering the Leaf—we’ve always been the birthplace of legends. Hanzo, Pain, Yonrochi himself… yet we’ve allowed ourselves to be trampled underfoot. That ends now."

He stepped closer to the young man, his presence looming. "Fugu and I will lead a manifest destiny across this shinobi world, united under one purpose. Politically, if possible. By force, if necessary." He paused, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "You know as well as I do—revolutions are never peaceful. That’s why we need you, Tokage. The information you’ve provided so far has been exceptional. Now prove your worth. Help us kill him. We have limited time but the ninja world is broken at this moment, I hear we aren't the only ones still weak from an attack."

Fugu leaned forward slightly, his grin growing wider, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Wouldn’t be wise to disappoint us," he drawled, his voice casual but brimming with menace. The light above flickered, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. Shokaku’s piercing gaze remained fixed on the young man.


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@Inoka

Tokage led the way through the rain-soaked streets of Amegakure, his movements brisk but precise. Yonrochi, draped in his robes, followed silently, his presence commanding despite his lack of words. The only sound accompanying them was the rhythmic patter of rain and the occasional distant clamor of construction.

After walking half a mile, the half-built bridge came into view, its skeletal frame stretching across the misty expanse. Flanking the structure were two towering metallic statues—one of Hokage Inoka, the other of Amekage Yonrochi. Workers were chipping away at the statues and the bridge itself, their tools ringing out in the damp air.

Stopping a few paces away, Tokage gestured proudly toward the scene, his voice firm but laced with subtle pride. "A bridge of unity. One of purpose...Yes, yes."

Yonrochi remained silent, his sharp eyes scanning the unfinished work with an inscrutable expression.

After a brief pause, Yonrochi spoke, his voice calm but tinged with dry humor. "Not sure why Tokage enjoys sucking up to the Leaf so much. This entire bridge was his idea." He then turned to Inoka, his face becoming a faint frown. "As for putting a face to a name..." Yonrochi’s tone shifted, adopting a more harsher edge. "Did you find it cheeky or clever to come as an animated puppet? ...Actually…" His laughter erupted suddenly, booming across the space. "I LOVE THAT! I used to do the same thing back in the day! Gahaha!"

Tokage, standing just behind him, thought silently to himself, Thank god they’re getting along… He adjusted his notebook and watched the interaction carefully, his mind ever analytical.

After the laughter subsided, Yonrochi turned his full attention to Inoka, his demeanor shifting to something more thoughtful. He spoke with measured curiosity, his tone calm and deliberate. "I was on my way somewhere, yet you caught me meditating before I could leave. Say... there is something I’d like to ask you."

He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze steady. "I was looking through an old book of shinobi—particularly from the Leaf—and I came across an interesting profile. The Rat King... Tenbo, was it? And then there was another profile, one I believe is dead… Mugen. Yes, that’s the name. Tell me about them. I know Amegakure is... complicated in the eyes of Konoha, but they caught my attention. I must know more."

As Yonrochi spoke, Tokage remained quiet, observing his lord closely. His thoughts raced as he considered Yonrochi’s motives.

"I wasn’t there when Tenbo and Yonrochi met... but it’s clear he doesn’t want the Hokage to know what they discussed—or even that they met at all. He’s fishing for information while pretending it’s just idle curiosity. But saying he read about them in some old book? That’s such a flimsy cover. Especially to someone from a once-enemy nation. What is he playing at? I suppose the Hokage could humor him since he obviously accounted for time sending a puppet..."

Tokage kept his expression neutral, though his thoughts churned beneath the surface as the rain continued to pour, masking the tension lingering in the air.
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