Nice work, Drake. Katsu would have said something along the lines of 'I like my peace and quiet' during the intro speech for Kakashi, but the rest is solid.
Another short impromptu snippet:
---
He couldn't help feeling both terribly out of place, and at the same time somehow more at home than he ever had before.
And while he had some experience with being of two minds about some things, that had occured under different circumstances altogether.
Blinking awake in a classroom of the Hidden Leaf's Academy had been disconcerting enough.
One part of him insisted he'd just come back to the temporary lodgings he and his students had been assigned by the Godaime Hokage, that he was a Jounin of the Hidden Mist staying in the Hidden Leaf as a so called gesture of good will of the Mizukage. Quotoe, unqote.
The other claimed he'd lived in the Hidden Leaf with his mother, a Mist expatriate, since he was five. That he'd attended the Academy, and had made genin yesterday.
Also, he was apparently not the only one dealing with this sort of displacement, though it was a bit more severe in his case.
That first part of his mind knew the Village Hidden by Leaves somewhat, was aware of its layout, had taken time to stroll around on and above ground to get the lay of the land in case it was of use in the future.
The second, the Leaf-nin him, had knowledge that, while not neccessarily superior, was that of someone who'd spent years in Konoha. It was a far more intimate knowledge, tinted by emotion as well.
He'd put these considerations aside until later back when he'd first become aware, sitting in a classroom and waiting for his supposed genin team's, Team 7's, jounin sensei. The realization that his teammates - though it was extremely odd to think of them like that at first, and still, truth be told - were in the same sort of situation had been startling but not really unexpected.
For one thing, he remembered Bakusuta Neshan and Nara Shikanenai as being jounin and chunin respectively. He didn't really know either by more than name, rank, and a rough outline of what they could do, but that was enough. The three, himself included, were the only people in the classroom of genin who didn't 'fit' as it were.
Their conversation hadn't been enlightening, exactly. Well, not in an immediately useful way, at least. They'd picked the situation apart as much as they could for inconsistencies and such, and had managed to establish they weren't in a genjutsu ...
... the paranoid part of him would have still held on to the theory that it was only him trapped in one, for whatever reason, but the darkly snickering growls buried deep in his mind weren't something that could be faked.
Well, that, and he didn't know 'Nenai well enough for any genjutsu to be able to fake a sense of humor _that_ specific.
So, after their conversation, each had gone his own way in an attempt to come to terms with the, apparently genuine, situation.
Which was why he was currently watching the sunset from the top of Konohagakure's outer wall. And absent-mindedly running one hand along his face.
It had felt supremely odd, when he'd bothered to pay attention to it, and he hadn't realized what it was that so unsettled him about it until he'd caught his reflection in a storefront window.
He'd been so used to his scars, he felt naked without them. Ironic, that.
And there were other, more worrying things he'd managed to dredge up. Leaf-him had been keeping up with the goings on in the Hidden Mist, it seemed - at least those that were open to the general public.
The Kaiou clan, one of the major contenders in the political life of the Mist from what the older part of him recalled, was apparently in decline here. The Iwagawa and the Sawamori clans - seperate in those memories - had allied, forming the political counterpoint to the traditionalists of the Mizuno - about the only clan to stay roughly the same - which _should_ have been the role of the Kaiou ...
Katsu's fingers drummed against his jawline in irritation. At least, that was what he told himself it was.
He kept telling himself this, even as his mind drifted in rememberance of the web of favors, owed and returned, that had bound him to one Kaiou Michiru, and vice versa.
From what he'd seen in the open records, lacking as those were, no such person existed. And his students were likely just as absent, neatly severing any ties with the Mist that his old memories could have imposed upon this life.
Hells, the only bit of carry-over he knew of was the person who'd given him a reason to live back in the really bad old days, and she was living in Konoha ... he cut off that train of thought.
He was nowhere near ready enough to try and untangle that particular knot of confused facts and emotions.
With a sigh, he let the thoughts go for a moment, and watched the play of waning sunlight over the Village's rooftops.
---
*ker-snip*
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm
Another short impromptu snippet:
---
He couldn't help feeling both terribly out of place, and at the same time somehow more at home than he ever had before.
And while he had some experience with being of two minds about some things, that had occured under different circumstances altogether.
Blinking awake in a classroom of the Hidden Leaf's Academy had been disconcerting enough.
One part of him insisted he'd just come back to the temporary lodgings he and his students had been assigned by the Godaime Hokage, that he was a Jounin of the Hidden Mist staying in the Hidden Leaf as a so called gesture of good will of the Mizukage. Quotoe, unqote.
The other claimed he'd lived in the Hidden Leaf with his mother, a Mist expatriate, since he was five. That he'd attended the Academy, and had made genin yesterday.
Also, he was apparently not the only one dealing with this sort of displacement, though it was a bit more severe in his case.
That first part of his mind knew the Village Hidden by Leaves somewhat, was aware of its layout, had taken time to stroll around on and above ground to get the lay of the land in case it was of use in the future.
The second, the Leaf-nin him, had knowledge that, while not neccessarily superior, was that of someone who'd spent years in Konoha. It was a far more intimate knowledge, tinted by emotion as well.
He'd put these considerations aside until later back when he'd first become aware, sitting in a classroom and waiting for his supposed genin team's, Team 7's, jounin sensei. The realization that his teammates - though it was extremely odd to think of them like that at first, and still, truth be told - were in the same sort of situation had been startling but not really unexpected.
For one thing, he remembered Bakusuta Neshan and Nara Shikanenai as being jounin and chunin respectively. He didn't really know either by more than name, rank, and a rough outline of what they could do, but that was enough. The three, himself included, were the only people in the classroom of genin who didn't 'fit' as it were.
Their conversation hadn't been enlightening, exactly. Well, not in an immediately useful way, at least. They'd picked the situation apart as much as they could for inconsistencies and such, and had managed to establish they weren't in a genjutsu ...
... the paranoid part of him would have still held on to the theory that it was only him trapped in one, for whatever reason, but the darkly snickering growls buried deep in his mind weren't something that could be faked.
Well, that, and he didn't know 'Nenai well enough for any genjutsu to be able to fake a sense of humor _that_ specific.
So, after their conversation, each had gone his own way in an attempt to come to terms with the, apparently genuine, situation.
Which was why he was currently watching the sunset from the top of Konohagakure's outer wall. And absent-mindedly running one hand along his face.
It had felt supremely odd, when he'd bothered to pay attention to it, and he hadn't realized what it was that so unsettled him about it until he'd caught his reflection in a storefront window.
He'd been so used to his scars, he felt naked without them. Ironic, that.
And there were other, more worrying things he'd managed to dredge up. Leaf-him had been keeping up with the goings on in the Hidden Mist, it seemed - at least those that were open to the general public.
The Kaiou clan, one of the major contenders in the political life of the Mist from what the older part of him recalled, was apparently in decline here. The Iwagawa and the Sawamori clans - seperate in those memories - had allied, forming the political counterpoint to the traditionalists of the Mizuno - about the only clan to stay roughly the same - which _should_ have been the role of the Kaiou ...
Katsu's fingers drummed against his jawline in irritation. At least, that was what he told himself it was.
He kept telling himself this, even as his mind drifted in rememberance of the web of favors, owed and returned, that had bound him to one Kaiou Michiru, and vice versa.
From what he'd seen in the open records, lacking as those were, no such person existed. And his students were likely just as absent, neatly severing any ties with the Mist that his old memories could have imposed upon this life.
Hells, the only bit of carry-over he knew of was the person who'd given him a reason to live back in the really bad old days, and she was living in Konoha ... he cut off that train of thought.
He was nowhere near ready enough to try and untangle that particular knot of confused facts and emotions.
With a sigh, he let the thoughts go for a moment, and watched the play of waning sunlight over the Village's rooftops.
---
*ker-snip*
Quote:Ditto. It's agreed, then. I've got this mental image of the three of them, after being snapped back to their reality of origin, waking up, wandering over to Training Ground Five, and having a 'You know, I just had the weirdest dream' conversation. Or maybe even a 'I suddenly have the strangest urge. It involves the Hyuuga compound, and several dozens of TP rolls.' one. Perhaps both.
*shrug* I do like the idea of having Jormungand around for the big finish, though.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm