TTM
Time Travelling Mechanic
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2007
- Messages
- 18
Hello all 
A few months back I submitted an excerpt of my Naruto FanFic here for critique, and I recieved many points and suggestions (I kinda entered a brick, without paragraph spacing and the like)
Since then I left these boards, bearing the lessons I learned and determined to improve myself.
Now I have returned with new work to be critiqued again, and to see if I have improved any.
I would like to thank all who read my last entry, whether you reviewed and made suggestions or not, and I also would like to thank you for taking the time with a FanFic writer who has dreams of becoming a novel writer someday. Cheers everyone
**********
“Okay Kokinshu-niisan, the traps are set. You and Noko get some sleep. Sobi and I will take the first watch. Hai?”
Grateful that he would be able to get two or three hours rest the Samurai merely nodded as he sat down on a battered stool, his loyal Nin-dog yawning and laying next to the dusty chair, resting a weary head on its two front paws.
Tanka and her scarred companion took up a position in the gutted corner booth of the old tea house where Kokinshu had decided they would hole up for a few hours.
The old wooden floorboards were warped unevenly from periodic exposure to the elements through the broken front windows and in places were fractured or broken, shards of the shattered pane gathering in the breaks and recessions.
The faded drywall across from the counter where the white-clad Samurai now sat was punctuated with two rusting kunai, and below these the floor was stained with old blood spilt long ago.
Time as of yet had been unable to erase the blotted circle, nor the drag lines which led into the empty backroom, snow intruding in the darkness by way of a fracture in the deteriorated building’s ceiling.
Despite the fresh air circulating through the tea house’s front room the building gave off the musty smell of dust and decay.
But none of the present Ninja were about to complain, dog or person. All were tired and had depleted their chakra greatly.
That said, the results of their combined skill were clear. Between them they had fourteen of the stone tokens, mostly a product of the successful defence of Tanka’s territory, a small square which had featured a frozen fountain, soon after finding one another in the near blizzard conditions outside.
Once it had been impossible to defend the plaza any longer they had set fire to all of the burnable structures and left, fighting their way along the outskirts. Just as all three Tokugawa Chunin had agreed upon arrival.
Looking across the filthy room Kokinshu frowned. It was the second evening and they still hadn’t met up with Kyoka.
Hopefully he hasn’t deviated from the plan, and gone into the center of town he thought, annoyed at the possibility.
That was where the fighting was thickest. Both Kokinshu and Tanka had viewed the regions surrounding the base of the tower earlier in the day, from the mantle of a rusted rooftop water tower.
Surrounding the base were obvious signs of battle. Smoking craters visible through the falling snow, the scent of blood mixing with the wet odour of the city in the wind.
And the bodies.
Whole teams of dead Ninja lay around the tower’s base, their dogs alongside them in a grotesque parody of loyalty after death, crimson pools staining the purity of the white snow.
The fools had fallen into the first trap of Murasaka: trying to claim the tower as their own territory.
There was no question: anyone who controlled the tower had a massive advantage. The entire arena was visible from its sheltered stone eaves, and one could sit back and wait for others to launch an assault.
But attempting to take this particular high ground was folly.
From the icicle draped water tower both Kokinshu and Tanka had seen that the architectural monolith had no doors on the ground floor, and no landings until well over halfway up the structure. Entry was going to be almost impossible during these three days.
Even if you ran up the tower’s side, you would stand out like August fire during your ascent, and could only expect to be picked off from afar by Ninja waiting for such recklessness and idiocy.
Sighing at the apparent stupidity of some of the lower born entrants Kokinshu brought his mind back to the matter at hand, pulling his right arm and shoulder out of his kimono before wiping a thick layer of greasy dust off the counter where he had seated himself and drawing a small tied pouch off his sash.
Wherever he was, Kyoka would be leaving a trail of blood across this city.
While Kokinshu had no problem whatsoever killing a downed opponent to spare them the shame of failure and to ensure they never became a recurrent nuisance, for Kyoka it was never a choice NOT to kill a defeated opponent, the idea of revelling in the taking of a life too good to pass up.
The man had no self control, and if it wasn’t for the insistence of Kokinshu’s uncle, currently acting as regent of the Tokugawa clan, he would have left him in the asylum, alone with his paranoia and madness.
The defeat of the enemies is one thing. But Kyoka was a loose cannon: his lust for blood and killing was never slaked, and if Kokinshu wasn’t there to direct him he would likely follow his thirst to an untimely demise.
Assuming he didn’t take either Kokinshu or Tanka down to Hell with him.
“Here Tanka-san, eat this. I prepared it before we came so it’s fresh.” Kokinshu said, throwing a sky blue pill over the broken and pitted floorboards to his cousin, who grunted in thanks before biting it in two and handing half to Sobi before both swallowed, the rust coloured dog crunching it twice.
Looking out the jagged remnants of snow frosted panes of glass toward the front of the secluded arcade Tanka had to smile to herself. The taste of wild berries lingered still. Her cousin really was a man of many talents.
She had known him to travel out into the wilderness of the Land of Grass by himself to gather the ingredients for these blue soldier pills, and then slave tirelessly over his personal alchemical bench for hours, even days, until the finished product met his extraordinarily high standards.
Slowly feeling her pathways relaxing as her chakra well filled once more she spoke to her cousin, neither her nor Sobi averting their attention from the covered alleyway outside, snow banking at it’s entrance.
“Kokinshu-niisan. Is it true that after you kill the Inuzuka that you will assume lordship of our clan?”
Kokinshu did not respond for a moment, the question lingering in the stale air of the broken tea house as the samurai thought on the question, putting his arm back through his white right sleeve after brushing the sticky dust off as best as he could so as not to stain the expensive material.
As Tanka began to think he would not answer Kokinshu stood leisurely, tying the pouch back onto his belt.
“That question has weighed long on my mind, Tanka-san. To set my father’s ghost to rest has always been my goal, first and foremost. I suppose once I go home I will challenge my uncle to a sword fight, and if I am able to defeat him I think I will be capable of leading our clan to a better future, as my father would have wanted.” The white-clad Ninja said thoughtfully before turning back towards the counter, seeing Noko asleep after having eaten her half of his own blue pill.
“But… that’s not the only reason you want to kill Inuzuka, is it?” Tanka said delicately, testing the waters on the subject she really wanted to discuss.
Kokinshu glanced at her sidewards along the counter, taking in the dark Miko before him. A few loose snowflakes hung in her black hair, Tanka too lazy to shake them loose.
He had known that Tanka of all people would have noticed. She did not wear the clothes of a shrine maiden just as a fashion statement. Her knowledge of spiritual matters was vast, and while not on mission many came to her for help with purifying the sites of deaths and suicides.
“I thought you noticed it.” He replied bluntly as Sobi pricked his ears to listen above a gust of wind which howled past the entrance of the arcade, snow whirling down the dark alleyway and collecting with the old trash.
Tanka spoke with a note of interest in her voice, never once ceasing her surveillance of the outside world.
“He has a dark presence within him. It feels to me like it has only recently made itself known, but already I can sense that this prescence has deep roots seeded in Inuzuka’s very soul.”
After watching an icicle fall into the courtyard and shatter into a sea of diamonds on white velvet with a muffled thump, she continued.
“This… darkness, it seems more like an advisor than a puppeteer, but whatever it is the taint is strong. Maybe too strong. If he is allowed to live it may take control of him.”
She turned away from the frosty window remnants for a moment, her long dark hair swaying as she looked at Kokinshu, a black eyebrow raised in interest.
“It seems your uncle was right. There is some kind of evil in that clan. Almost as if the Inuzuka know Death well, like an old friend or a close confidante. It is a good thing we’re going to put him down.”
Tanka turned her attention to the arcade once more, brushing some dust from her black sleeve.
“You introduce me to the most interesting people, Kokinshu-niisan. Now get some rest. Kyoka-san is still out there, and the sooner we find him the better.”
**********
Thanks again for reading guys, and especially for your help previously.
And if you submit work for critique too, I'll be reviewing on here for a while
A few months back I submitted an excerpt of my Naruto FanFic here for critique, and I recieved many points and suggestions (I kinda entered a brick, without paragraph spacing and the like
)Since then I left these boards, bearing the lessons I learned and determined to improve myself.
Now I have returned with new work to be critiqued again, and to see if I have improved any.
I would like to thank all who read my last entry, whether you reviewed and made suggestions or not, and I also would like to thank you for taking the time with a FanFic writer who has dreams of becoming a novel writer someday. Cheers everyone
**********
“Okay Kokinshu-niisan, the traps are set. You and Noko get some sleep. Sobi and I will take the first watch. Hai?”
Grateful that he would be able to get two or three hours rest the Samurai merely nodded as he sat down on a battered stool, his loyal Nin-dog yawning and laying next to the dusty chair, resting a weary head on its two front paws.
Tanka and her scarred companion took up a position in the gutted corner booth of the old tea house where Kokinshu had decided they would hole up for a few hours.
The old wooden floorboards were warped unevenly from periodic exposure to the elements through the broken front windows and in places were fractured or broken, shards of the shattered pane gathering in the breaks and recessions.
The faded drywall across from the counter where the white-clad Samurai now sat was punctuated with two rusting kunai, and below these the floor was stained with old blood spilt long ago.
Time as of yet had been unable to erase the blotted circle, nor the drag lines which led into the empty backroom, snow intruding in the darkness by way of a fracture in the deteriorated building’s ceiling.
Despite the fresh air circulating through the tea house’s front room the building gave off the musty smell of dust and decay.
But none of the present Ninja were about to complain, dog or person. All were tired and had depleted their chakra greatly.
That said, the results of their combined skill were clear. Between them they had fourteen of the stone tokens, mostly a product of the successful defence of Tanka’s territory, a small square which had featured a frozen fountain, soon after finding one another in the near blizzard conditions outside.
Once it had been impossible to defend the plaza any longer they had set fire to all of the burnable structures and left, fighting their way along the outskirts. Just as all three Tokugawa Chunin had agreed upon arrival.
Looking across the filthy room Kokinshu frowned. It was the second evening and they still hadn’t met up with Kyoka.
Hopefully he hasn’t deviated from the plan, and gone into the center of town he thought, annoyed at the possibility.
That was where the fighting was thickest. Both Kokinshu and Tanka had viewed the regions surrounding the base of the tower earlier in the day, from the mantle of a rusted rooftop water tower.
Surrounding the base were obvious signs of battle. Smoking craters visible through the falling snow, the scent of blood mixing with the wet odour of the city in the wind.
And the bodies.
Whole teams of dead Ninja lay around the tower’s base, their dogs alongside them in a grotesque parody of loyalty after death, crimson pools staining the purity of the white snow.
The fools had fallen into the first trap of Murasaka: trying to claim the tower as their own territory.
There was no question: anyone who controlled the tower had a massive advantage. The entire arena was visible from its sheltered stone eaves, and one could sit back and wait for others to launch an assault.
But attempting to take this particular high ground was folly.
From the icicle draped water tower both Kokinshu and Tanka had seen that the architectural monolith had no doors on the ground floor, and no landings until well over halfway up the structure. Entry was going to be almost impossible during these three days.
Even if you ran up the tower’s side, you would stand out like August fire during your ascent, and could only expect to be picked off from afar by Ninja waiting for such recklessness and idiocy.
Sighing at the apparent stupidity of some of the lower born entrants Kokinshu brought his mind back to the matter at hand, pulling his right arm and shoulder out of his kimono before wiping a thick layer of greasy dust off the counter where he had seated himself and drawing a small tied pouch off his sash.
Wherever he was, Kyoka would be leaving a trail of blood across this city.
While Kokinshu had no problem whatsoever killing a downed opponent to spare them the shame of failure and to ensure they never became a recurrent nuisance, for Kyoka it was never a choice NOT to kill a defeated opponent, the idea of revelling in the taking of a life too good to pass up.
The man had no self control, and if it wasn’t for the insistence of Kokinshu’s uncle, currently acting as regent of the Tokugawa clan, he would have left him in the asylum, alone with his paranoia and madness.
The defeat of the enemies is one thing. But Kyoka was a loose cannon: his lust for blood and killing was never slaked, and if Kokinshu wasn’t there to direct him he would likely follow his thirst to an untimely demise.
Assuming he didn’t take either Kokinshu or Tanka down to Hell with him.
“Here Tanka-san, eat this. I prepared it before we came so it’s fresh.” Kokinshu said, throwing a sky blue pill over the broken and pitted floorboards to his cousin, who grunted in thanks before biting it in two and handing half to Sobi before both swallowed, the rust coloured dog crunching it twice.
Looking out the jagged remnants of snow frosted panes of glass toward the front of the secluded arcade Tanka had to smile to herself. The taste of wild berries lingered still. Her cousin really was a man of many talents.
She had known him to travel out into the wilderness of the Land of Grass by himself to gather the ingredients for these blue soldier pills, and then slave tirelessly over his personal alchemical bench for hours, even days, until the finished product met his extraordinarily high standards.
Slowly feeling her pathways relaxing as her chakra well filled once more she spoke to her cousin, neither her nor Sobi averting their attention from the covered alleyway outside, snow banking at it’s entrance.
“Kokinshu-niisan. Is it true that after you kill the Inuzuka that you will assume lordship of our clan?”
Kokinshu did not respond for a moment, the question lingering in the stale air of the broken tea house as the samurai thought on the question, putting his arm back through his white right sleeve after brushing the sticky dust off as best as he could so as not to stain the expensive material.
As Tanka began to think he would not answer Kokinshu stood leisurely, tying the pouch back onto his belt.
“That question has weighed long on my mind, Tanka-san. To set my father’s ghost to rest has always been my goal, first and foremost. I suppose once I go home I will challenge my uncle to a sword fight, and if I am able to defeat him I think I will be capable of leading our clan to a better future, as my father would have wanted.” The white-clad Ninja said thoughtfully before turning back towards the counter, seeing Noko asleep after having eaten her half of his own blue pill.
“But… that’s not the only reason you want to kill Inuzuka, is it?” Tanka said delicately, testing the waters on the subject she really wanted to discuss.
Kokinshu glanced at her sidewards along the counter, taking in the dark Miko before him. A few loose snowflakes hung in her black hair, Tanka too lazy to shake them loose.
He had known that Tanka of all people would have noticed. She did not wear the clothes of a shrine maiden just as a fashion statement. Her knowledge of spiritual matters was vast, and while not on mission many came to her for help with purifying the sites of deaths and suicides.
“I thought you noticed it.” He replied bluntly as Sobi pricked his ears to listen above a gust of wind which howled past the entrance of the arcade, snow whirling down the dark alleyway and collecting with the old trash.
Tanka spoke with a note of interest in her voice, never once ceasing her surveillance of the outside world.
“He has a dark presence within him. It feels to me like it has only recently made itself known, but already I can sense that this prescence has deep roots seeded in Inuzuka’s very soul.”
After watching an icicle fall into the courtyard and shatter into a sea of diamonds on white velvet with a muffled thump, she continued.
“This… darkness, it seems more like an advisor than a puppeteer, but whatever it is the taint is strong. Maybe too strong. If he is allowed to live it may take control of him.”
She turned away from the frosty window remnants for a moment, her long dark hair swaying as she looked at Kokinshu, a black eyebrow raised in interest.
“It seems your uncle was right. There is some kind of evil in that clan. Almost as if the Inuzuka know Death well, like an old friend or a close confidante. It is a good thing we’re going to put him down.”
Tanka turned her attention to the arcade once more, brushing some dust from her black sleeve.
“You introduce me to the most interesting people, Kokinshu-niisan. Now get some rest. Kyoka-san is still out there, and the sooner we find him the better.”
**********
Thanks again for reading guys, and especially for your help previously.
And if you submit work for critique too, I'll be reviewing on here for a while
