[center] [img]http://i.imgur.com/r3kDoWg.png[/img]
[h3][color=red]Daiki Naito[/color][/h3][/center]
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[b]D[/b]aiki smirked at Saburo, lifting a hand out his pocket and place it gingerly on his neck. The words brought a sense of a pain … longing that didn’t really translate to his face. [color=red][b] “I[/b]’ve come this far, can’t stop now can I? .”[/color] the question was rhetorical, meaningless really. He knew he had to see it through. [color=red][b] “I[/b]n other words, I’m positive. Right here and right now. I want to join the 11th corps.”[/color] 

Just as quick as it came, it had passed. The moment that hinted at his inner distress was going with cold, wet wind. 

His hand fell back into his pocket. [color=red][b] “U[/b]mm, thanks by the way. You didn’t have to do this and I’m sure it involved a lot of paper work. I’ll think on getting the others to see [i]you[/i], at the very least, differently. See ya.”[/color] With that said, he strode out the building and leap towards the Naito home; he had to start packing and moving out. That much he was certain of. 

[center][b] * * * * *[/b][/center]

[b]D[/b]aiki pushed aside a box of his belongings with his foot. The fresh, saddened faces of his mother, grandfather, and Avaron was still in front of his vision as he did so. That was a week ago. His new home was a bit more modern, tech was built into the walls, and lights were bright and wide above him.  

[b]H[/b]is fist were firmly pressed against his sides as he looked up at the unfamiliar fluorescent. Not much could said about it, his new life that is, not that he particularly wanted to say anything at all. His life had been upchucked thanks to his own decisions, now he would have to get over it and use to it. Two things he was never eally good at. Since the time of his identity crisis, to the time of the tyrant: Yamato Minamoru. He was never really good at keeping things as they were, always the first to challenge what he deemed worthy.

[b]N[/b]ow though, now he found himself with another name, one that fitted him like a glove and at the same time, felt uncomfortable. He walked over to his bed nearby, sat down, and stared at the black wall. It was bad enough that Saburo was making an effort to actually establish some family bond, one that [i]could[/i] be just as trivial as his non-attempt at making friends years ago, but now he was stuck on a mission with him too. Him and another Uchiha at that. Daiki felt his teeth clench together. Seems like the world was really trying to immerse him in his bloodline. 

[b]C[/b]losing his eyes, he tried to shut himself off from the world. Only allowing the smallest of tendrils to worry about the mission coming up. A few minutes ticked by, and darkness had encroached from all sides for a moment … that was until his phone rumbled on the table. At first he ignored it, then shot up, sped over to the table, and snatched it up. He slowed when he saw the mass wall of messages he had been ignoring. 

Avaron was wondering if they could see each other tonight. His mother asked if he had ate yet. And as he scrolled down the long list of Naito members, he finally stumbled upon the most recent; Saburo. The message had a singular address in it. Must be the meeting spot he figured. Daiki rubbed his head, hearing the insects outside his window as he realized it was sake bar. 

[color=red][b] “I[/b] don’t drink.”[/color] he muttered to himself. 

[b]B[/b]y the time he had appeared on the street, Saburo and the mystery Uchiha: a girl, was walking out the bar. The Sword of Kusanagi hung from his side, a thick black harness keeping it in check. The extra weight was near unnoticeable. As he approached, he lifted a hand from his pocket and waved a piss-poor greeting. 

[color=red][b] “S[/b]orry about the wait. Or not. I’m not sure how long you two’ve been here. Let’s get this Fuyushi guy. I’m still not comfortable with being called an Uchiha, but I don’t like the thought of someone stealing other people eyes. It sickening really. Especially from my ... r-relatives.”[/color] 

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[center] [img]http://i.imgur.com/QazkMuz.png[/img]
[h3][color=orange]Giichi Uzumaki[/color][/h3][/center]
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[b]S[/b]urprisingly enough, Giichi had arrived on the meeting spot in a shadowy blur. His hands were on his knees as he heaved from his exertion. Damn. His training had run over … again. A touch of anxiety touched his heart as he looked up at the Hyuuga man. He had heard he was good friends with Fujitora and Ayame. 

Instinctively, he quirked his lip to the side in a frown, tilted his head, and clenched his fist at his side. The parting words of that Gypsy had inspired him to followed his own heart, he would have to thank her in person. Since that night, he had been texting her constantly. Telling her about his own vision of the Will of Fire. How it was more than just an ideal. How it was the village itself and the immense love of the First carried over through the generations.

[b]F[/b]ujitora and Ayame had severed that love with a needle and showered the flame with an oppressive drizzle. He hated them and everything that they stood for. He doubted he could stand being in a room with them but even more than that, he found it hard tolerating those that sided with them. 

[color=orange][b] “I[/b]’m gonna beat them y’know? Fujitora and Ayame. Look forward to that,”[/color] he told the Hyuuga before locking his hands behind his head and putting some distance between them.