The Prison Potential

To say that the dungeons of Kirigakure were dark, humid, and downright decrepit places would have been an understatement. If anything, they were very dungeon-like. Now that made sense. Exposed to the western coast of the island, and extremely well ventilated by the hundreds of minute slits along the outer walls, the prison managed to stay extremely cold and damp, yet manage to exclude all sunlight. Yep, the Mizukage was a heartless one, exiling soul after soul to spend the remainder of their days within such conditions. Mind, that was where Eki felt he fit in so nicely.

Pacing slowly down the cell lined corridors, the leader of the Kinfusen Thieves Guild took more than ample time, eyes glancing to and fro from beneath his hood. Hands clasped behind his back, he rarely raised them, only ever doing so to grasp a cell's barred windows, prying himself to get a better look at it's contents. As usual, he wore long and dark robes, all the better to mask his identity. They often changed in style and design though, no sense in becoming recognized for being unrecognisable. The many layers were designed to keep him warm in chilly wind-riddled climates, cool and vented in heat, as well as provide flexibility and mystique in all of the above. At first glance, they'd appear rugged and mangy, as if worn by the homeless. Closer inspection would reveal that they were carefully crafted to appear as just that. As for the man behind the cloak, to say that he was bored would have been just.

Yet another cell with nothing but a decrepit inmate. The conditions of their stay tore their weak bodies and even weaker minds limb from thought. Occasionally Eki would stumble across someone fit, though even rarer they valued a prison break. For Eki, this was a farming game, one of patience. He'd stop by the prison every few months, see if any potential recruits had taken up residency, and go from there. It was extreme to act upon anything however, the prisoner in question would need to be of significant merit, never mind trust, in order for the financially driven Kinfusen to even begin to consider spending the funds necessary to break them out.

So alas, there Eki was, alone with his thoughts, the sound of his padded footsteps upon frosty stone, the occasional resonating crash of a droplet of water, and the all too common moaning and groaning from broken men.

Quite depressing really.

A boy no more than fourteen, searching, seeking out the killers. Sawamura wanted to look one in the eye, he wanted to ask one what it was like to kill. He had been practicing, this boy of teal hair. Training his skills, taking menial ranked missions. All in hopes of raising his name, improving himself. First, he wanted to see down the road, wanted to see what he could or would become. The nastiest of all men/women were held down here. It was cold, wet, and reminded him so much of the swamp he was raised in.

Getting past the chuunin guard wasn't too difficult, it had nothing to do with being a better ninja than the guard, but being a better animal. The man who blocked his way, for all his intentions was a man. A man would investigate a noise, say if a boy would throw a rock. A man would leave to find what was making the noise. An animal would only perk his ears, sniff at the air. A animal would know. He was an animal.

It was dark, his eyes searching hopelessly in the dark. They needed to adjust, though luckily his ears were working just fine. Rattling, and rustling of animals in cages. The sound of dripping water. Foot steps.

Eki was well trained, a small vibration tickled his hears, wisp of a scent past his nose. Animalistic was just the beginning of a description. They didn't call him a cobra for nothing. Had he been on some reconnaissance, or subterfugial mission he may have very well used the advanced notice to spring into ever stealthy actions. But he wasn't, and the presence at hand was that of just a boy, an agile and talented boy, but a boy all the same. Abandoning his meanderings, Eki broke into a much more brisk pace, rounding the lengthy curving corridor to greet the young fellow, or if not, surprise the hell out of him.

His current trajectory placed him square on with the boy, and maybe twenty meters away as he appeared from around the last bend. It was here that he stopped, saying nothing. Eyes already well adjusted to the odd lighting within the prison, he caught sight that the boy was struggling with the darkness for the moment. The old Eki would have struck him by the throat twenty-three seconds ago. Suppose this Eki needed to lay low.

"You lost, young one?"

His voice was silk like, even amongst the hollow cavern. The "S" in "lost" just holding that extra bit. It was sinister, but comfortingly so, as contradicting as that may seem. Much like a snake mesmerizes the mouse before striking. A subtle dance between danger, and intrigue.

Who was this--this man, calling to him in the darkness. Smelling of snakes and death. The boy, for what it was worth, was terribly startled. When the foot steps started rattling his way, his stance faltered. Eyes adjusting. It wasn't until the man was directly in front of him that he could see this mystery man. Who was he? A guard--a guard like the one at the entrance? No, something different, maybe something worse.

"I've come to see them, the slayers of men." Sawamura stood erect, doing his best to mask his fears. The man, reminded him of a snake. Though the crocodile was a much more mighty reptile than he.

He could have easily been slain in that time, the boy could sense the killing intent off the man. Shifting in his blue overalls. He found a kunai in the hip pouch to his left. Not drawing, but running his fingers over the cloth grip.

"And so you've found them..."

Eki's voice bounced off the walls, turning into a ghostly whisper by the time it would reach the young nin's ears. From under the shelter of the shadows cast by his hood, his eyes studied his target, up, down, up, down. Nothing of particular interest. His sight did linger on the boy's hip pouch for a moment, watching his fingers slide into the bag. It was obliquely clear to be a defensive measure, though what little training the genin had was allowing him to pass it off as a comfort stance, or it would have against eyes that had seen less over the years.

Taking a few slow steps forward, Eki tilted his head off to the right, slanting at the neck. It was an unnatural position, accented by his glide-like pace forward. "And now that you've seen them, what will you do?" The gap between them was closing, the difference between their physique's becoming more apparent. Eki's hands remained ready, clasped together behind his back, sometimes even frightened mice lashed out.

"Something tells me, your not supposed to be here. My gut tells me to attack you, though my mind says 'don't'. So, who you are? What is your name!" The boy didn't care about seeming socially weak, or in such adversity even physically weak.

Sawamura's young mind did not question its logic, he would not move. He would give this man an inch. A crocodile does not bow to the snake. Should he give his blood up for tribute, should he summon one of his crocodiles? That was the question, that was on his tongue. He had some tricks, he could no doubt imply, though Sawamura was certain the man had better ones.

The young genin lifted the bangs in front of his eyes, letting his sharp eyes guard the man.

Stopping a few feet shy of walking over top the lad, Eki leaned forward as to try and meet the boys eyes on a more level field. As he did so, his robes continued to hang loosely about his frame, creating a small cavern before him. From within the dark folds, a low, exasperated hiss could faintly be heard, followed by what croc-boy would fondly recognize as the sound of scale shifting upon cloth.

"You've nothing to worry about, I'm sure. After all, I've just as much a right to be here as you do, don't I?"

Eki paused for a bit, seemingly debating a thought.

"As for my name, well, I'm sure they taught you plenty of manners at that Shinobi school of yours. I may be but a humble citizen of Kirigakure, but I am still your elder, you should be weary of making demands to strangers."

There!

The boy briefly passed a hand before his eyes, a vain attempt to remove what may possibly blind him in the near future, only tampered his vision more now. For a split second, Eki was completely obscured from view, leaving far more time than necessary. Having kept a close eye on the boy's particular gait and tendency to preoccupy both hands simultaneously, the desert cobra struck. Using a touch far lighter than your average wallet-lifting street urchin, and just shy of something akin to the imprints of ghosts upon the living world, Eki's hands moved quickly to check both front pockets of the boy's overalls, scoring some loose Ryo in the front right. Then, with the speed possessed only by taijutsu masters like himself, he retreated to his original position, palming the small profit as he did. The entire motion was completed before Sawamura's view would be fully returned. And while yes, he most likely would have detected the shift in pressure differential's at Eki's speed, there'd be no evidence to support the fact that he had done anything.

It was dirty, underhanded work, that of a thief. Usually it required a distraction, the boy had inadvertently done that to himself. From there it was all down hill. To further the lure, Eki kept speaking, his voice rebounding off the walls in an even more pompous tone, to better gather attention.

"Besides... Attacking me would earn you little, a lifetime of regret perhaps. Who are we but kindered spirits, drawn to the same place, at the same time?"



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