Isaribi Yuhara was a patient woman. No matter the challenge she always believed that persistence and time would win the day. She'd held onto this philosophy for fourteen years to the day, through every political spat of the Hidden Cloud and her son's teenage melodrama. Tiredly, she sighed and sipped, no gulped her coffee as if it were the fountain of life itself.
"Schpiddlypoodleeee..." She trailed off, fishing for words in her maternal lexicon. "--skittlepops...
, this time knocking the coffee mug against the door to her son's room. Isaribi drove the last clunk
hard against the wood.
!!" She barked. "You're going to be late, and the Hidden Cloud hates tardiness
A bang, a crash. Something behind the door fell. Fabric rustled, footsteps danced in a panicked jig across the floor. Another crash from the right side drew Isaribi's green eyes, and she could only drink her coffee with exhausted disdain. The racket came and went in waves, the occasional "Shit shit shit!
" escaped the room.
Another loud thud, the sliding of metal through a frame, the rush of cold air, and quiet.
"... I don't get a 'Good Morning', or a hug... Not even a 'thank you mom for saving my ass', he just throws on his clothes and leaps out the window...." Isaribi muttered as she shuffled down the hall.
Irui skittered and sprang through the skyline of the Hidden Cloud. A freshly minted Genin, with only the scantest of technique, his movements were anything but refined. That was the whole objective of today: meet his peers at the Cafe, make some friends, and hopefully attach himself to a Jounin Instructor like glue.
He touched down briefly on an outstretching ledge to get his bearings. The Hidden Cloud stretched out across plateaus and ridges, bustling with color and sound, a garden of multicolored buildings, glass, and steel. Its namesake clouds pooled at lower elevations in the valley below, obscuring the village from sight. He took a deep breath, the crisp air biting his nose and filling his lungs with ice. Mountains stretched to the horizon, dusted with snow and deep green pine.
Finally, he thought, today could be the start of a journey beyond these valleys.
He dropped from his perch, and continued to the cafe, slipping through a market and down side streets, until signage brought him to the cafe's front door. Tentatively, he glanced at the directions and the name of the organizer, and pushed his way inside. Blinking hard to stamp out the sunlight and adjust to the change in light, he squinted and eyed the seated guests; numerous Kumogakure headbands glinted back at him.
Irui frowned, and nervously looked at the directions again, hoping he wasn't at the wrong place. Mom is going to kill me....
He thought fidgeting with the paper. All he knew was he was meeting a Morikawa, a distant relative of his. Irui breathed in, trying to settle his nerves and scanned the crowd.
" A waiter warned as he passed. “Who are you looking for…Oh,” He paused, looking Irui’s attire up and motioned for him to follow. “Right this way, you must be with Mikiri Morikawa’s party," the man murmured as they wound their way through an aisle of tables and booths until coming to stop before a man with silver hair.
"Mikiri Morikawa," Irui greeted, "I'm Irui pleasure to meet you." He looked to the kunoichi and smiled, offering both of them a handshake before taking his seat.