Amara's Academy Solo Missions

Mission Info:

Amara knocked on the door to the instructor's office, then waited patiently with her hands behind her back. She bobbed and rocked a bit on her feet, studying the frame of the door and wall that held it. In truth, she was already bored, but her father had cut off her allowance ever since she joined the Academy. He said something about how it would be good for her to learn the value of a Xel. Obviously he still paid for food and didn't make her pay rent or anything, but he had, horrifically, cut off her supply to new book purchases. Honestly, Amara would have rather been starving and homeless than without new books to sustain her. It was a true travesty and even Terrence had sensed the tempest of emotions it brought out in her. He had suggested, in not so many words that she should, Take the man's wallet and ram it down his throat, then watch him... Honestly she had stopped listening at that point and wasn't entirely sure what Terrence had wanted her to do, but knowing him it had been...graphic to say the least.

Come in! A voice called from the other side of the door, interrupting Amara's thoughts and she pushed the door open gingerly to see one of the Chunin Instructors leafing through a small stack of papers on her desk.
Hi, my name is Amara and I'm here-
You're here to grade my quizzes? Perfect. I have a staff meeting in ten minutes and have to piss something fierce. Red pens are in the top right drawer if you run out of ink, answer key is here. She said, lifting a laminated copy with the correct answers filled out before rising from her chair.
You can use my chair, just don't...mess with it or anything. She said in an annoyed, but rushed tone. Amara nodded and switched places with the woman, flopping down in the seat and pulling herself forward. She looked at the stack on the desk and smiled, there were only maybe fifty tests in the stack. She'd be done in half an hour tops. Is this it then? Amara asked as the instructor started closing the door. The woman poked her head back in and looked at the stack on the desk. A crooked grin grew across the instructor's lips and she barked out a laugh, Ha, no way kid. That's only maybe...a tenth? She pointed at the cardboard box in front of the desk, something Amara hadn't noticed sitting on the floor in front of the desk.
A TENTH?!
A TENTH?! Both Amara and Terrence said at once. The instructor laughed and offered a wave, See ya when I get back! Then she was gone.

Amara groaned and placed her head on the desk, taking in the task before her. If she didn't start soon there was no way she'd make it to the book store in time before it closed for the day and she NEEDED a new book for the night. She opened the drawered and took out two more red pens, then performed her Maker's Hands Jutsu. The two extra pens began to rise in the air and hover over stacks of quizzes that Amara quickly put together, then she got to work. She may have ten times the number of quizzes to grade than what she expected, but she could also do so at three times the pace and within two hours the quizzes were done. She sat back and sighed with relief, capping the last pen and chucking it in the trash can, spent. She looked at the clock on the wall and smiled, as long as there wasn't a long line at the mission office, she should be able to scoop up her payment and make it to the book store in time.

Words: 635/500

Approved: 500 xel and 1Free D-rank.

Don’t forget to make a thread for your completed missions and missions in need of approval.

Mission Info:

Having just come off the mission with helping grade papers the day before, Amara was genuinely baffled to see this mission posted today. How was it that a place run so efficiently by the greatest Shinobi gathering, aka the Republic, in the world was so incapable of such simple tasks? Then again, maybe that's why these were posted as missions. Paying Academy Students to do it wasn't free labor, but it was probably a lot cheaper than hiring a full time, salaried employee. Amara made a mental note to look into the Republic's finances and book keeping if she could get the chance. Maybe she could help them shift around some numbers and free up a janitorial position or something...or maybe they'd tell her to get out and mind her business while the grownups discussed the matter. That was more probable if she was being honest with herself. Her thoughts trailed off as she approached the equipment shed. The key they had given her at the mission desk jingled as she walked, slapping against the large plank of wood that the key ring was attached to. She found it comical that they had not only attached this block of wood to the key, but also written in big, bold letters "DO NOT LOSE." There had to be a story behind that one.

Humming to herself, she slipped the key into the pad lock and twisted. The pad lock popped open easily enough and she placed the two on the ground beside her where they'd be easy to find later once she had finished. She pulled on the handle, mentally preparing herself for whatever mess she was about to encounter and found the door didn't budge. Frowning, she pulled harder, really throwing her weight into it. They had warned her that the door might stick a bit, but this was unreal. With a huff, she put her hands on her hips and studied the door. Hrm...it seems to be bowing in the middle. Almost as if something is pressing on it from the inside. If she could move or shift whatever it was, maybe that would be enough to open the doors. She took a few steps back, then breathed out before running directly at the shed doors and jumping, slamming her shoulder into it.

Amara let out a small squeal of pain, but heard something fall and shift behind the door. She smiled just as the doors gave out and flung open, sending her sprawling and an avalanche of training equipment buried her. After a few frantic seconds, she managed to shift around enough to actually find the light of day again and roll out from under the pile. Who does this?! She exclaimed to no one, realizing the last people to use the shed must have just chucked the gear in and shut it before it could fall out on them. She certainly had her work cut out for her, but thankfully just a few hours later she had the place mostly organized. There was a pile of broken gear, which she left by the dumpster for waste management and the rest had been organized together so they were easy to find. She even drafted a sign out sheet which she hung on a clipboard inside the shed doors, though she somewhat knew deep down that that was a fruitless effort. Regardless, job done, no matter how tedious.

Words: 567/500

Mission Info:

Amara sighed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The darn thing kept falling out and right into her view of her book. The serving counters in the cafeteria that the lunch ladies used were surprisingly excellent for holding books, so long as you weren't trying to serve students lunch. Something which, Amara realized, probably defeated the entire purpose of their jobs. Oh well, just a fun little secret for her then.
Hey lunch girl, shouldn't you be, I don't know, serving lunch instead of reading? A snot-nosed voice asked from across the counter to her right. Amara looked up to find the two stations she was supposed to man still doing their jobs. Her Maker's Hands technique was active, allowing her to move the ladles through the air, scoop into whatever slop she was supposed to be serving and deposit them onto the child's train with at least 65% accuracy and minimal attention needed from her. She looked at the boy's tray and noticed that her first serving area had worked fine. Steamed broccoli sat piled in the corner of his tray and ready to be eaten once he returned to his table. Amara raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment, I am doing my job, didn't you get your food?
Course I got food, but I don't WANT this food. The boy said with a sneer, pointing at the broccoli. You're not even paying attention enough to have heard me say I didn't want broccoli before your little ghost ladle deposited it on my tray. I don't think you've listened to anyone's order here all afternoon!
Amara blinked, processing what the boy was saying. Ghost...ladle? She asked, trying to understand. Obviously this wasn't what the boy had wanted her to focus on when he delivered his diatribe about misplaced broccoli because he quickly became flustered.
Listen here you little hairnet serving, bitch, A hairnet! That's what she had forgotten, that had been bothering her all morning. It probably would have helped with the strand that kept falling in front of-
Oh he's still talking. Amara thought, tuning back into the boy's rant.
...now give me some Kami Damned mashed potatoes, two servings, pronto! He ended, his face positively red with either rage or stress...maybe a bit of both. Amara looked the boy up and down and frowned.
SHOVE THOSE MASHED POTATOES RIGHT UP HIS- Terrence began to yell, but Amara started talking.
You're what, 5'8, 5'9? Look to be about, 195...no, 205 pounds, right? That isn't muscle, not with that childish frame. Far too round for muscle too, so that would put your BMI at...morbidly obese. Now BMI isn't the most accurate metric to go by in terms of health, and I'm not a doctor, though I've read enough texts to get through civilian medical school at least four times and counting, but I'd say in your case this BMI measurement would be accurate. As such, I think you should actually have two helpings of broccoli and cut out the mashed potatoes altogether. There's too much butter and fat in these, delicious as they may be, but dangerous for what I assumed are already some stressed arteries at the ripe old age of...what...12? Amara asked with an educated guess.

The line behind and in front of the boy went deathly silent save for a few snickers and awkward chuckles. Behind the boy Amara thought she could hear someone start to clap but quickly stopped when the person realized no one else was joining. The boy stood slack jawed in front of her as the broccoli ladle drifted through the air and deposited a second serving on the boy's tray where his treasured mashed potatoes should have gone. He looked down, then looked back up at Amara and for a moment she thought he might start screaming. Instead, his lower lip quivered, he turned and he ran out of the cafeteria. She blinked, surprised, but then turned to look down the rest of the line and asked, Anyone else want something other than one serving of broccoli and one serving of potatoes? No one else said a word, still processing what had just happened. She shrugged and went back to her book while the line started up again.

Words: 703/500

Approved: Servicing Lunch and Cleaning up training equipment shed: +1000 Xel and 2-Free D-rank techs

Spoiler:

Amara hummed idly to herself, an unusually broad smile on her face as she walked the halls of the academy with a book held to her chest and arms crossed over it. What a beautiful day it was! Not outside of course. Outside it was positively dreadful with intermittent showers, cold winds out of the east, and she had even heard some proctors in the hallway talking about a chance for hail later this afternoon. No, the day was positively dreadful...if you were going outside. Not Amara, that wasn't for her. Outside was bleh, but inside had the library, the single most important building on the entire campus and she had just taken a job helping to rebind old, worn books. She was going to get paid to do something she would've done for free.

The thought made her giggle to herself, confusing some older students as they passed her. Ah, books, the very best thing to ever be made by mankind. You know what books never did? Produce hail. She strode through the double doors of the library and placed her own reading material on the check out counter.
Hello there, I'm here for the rebinding job. She said, the joy in her voice nearly palpable. The old crone behind the desk seemed to size her up for a moment before pointing a shaky, skeletal finger towards the backroom. Amara already knew that's where the book maitenance and refurbishing area was, but she had been scolded enough about trespassing to now know better than to just walk in.
Thank you! She said with a bubbling smile and followed the old crone's wordless directions.

She turned and headed straight for the backroom, not taking a chance at being distracted by the rows and rows of books. Honestly, she had already worked her way through most of them anyway. There had been some half decent afternoon reads, but for the most part the Academy seemed to have censored anything they didn't think appropriate for students her age. She wasn't looking for smut or anything particularly gory. She just wanted texts that delved deeper into fuinjutsu theory and now even was beginning to take an interest in Medical Ninjutsu as well. Of course, when asked about those specific texts she had been told that she didn't need to worry about Iryojutsu until she was a Genin at the earliest. Amara rolled her eyes just remembering that terrible interaction with the snobby librarian.

Without any need for instruction, Amara grabbed a stool and got to work on the stack of damaged manuscripts. What the Academy didn't realize is that she had made a deal with the librarians to be allowed to stay after hours if she helped rebind their old books a few hours a week. Since the Academy didn't know this, they had made a job posting for the very thing Amara was doing. Now she could reap the benefits of her deal and get paid at the same time. It also explained why this particular crone was in an extra foul mood upon seeing Amara just now. She hummed to herself as she worked for the next few ours, the imagined sound of money jingling in her pocket kept her company.

Words: 535/500

Approved: 500 xel and 1 Free D-rank.

Mission Info:

Amara had somehow avoided the mystery meat debacle the previous day. It wasn't uncommon for her to forget to eat lunch, in fact, it was actually rare for her to remember. The middle of the day was a time best spent learning, not fraternizing and spooning slop into one's mouth. As a result, she was one of only a handful of students in her grade that wasn't currently bent over a toilet with liquid spewing from multiple holes. As luck would have it, this made it an opportune time to explore her newfound interest in the medical world. Granted, her current interests didn't involve much when it came to food poisoning, but at the end of the day, practice was practice. However, when the young student strode into the infirmary and was faced with a congregation of moaning, stomach-clutching children, she hesitated. Seconds after the sight caught her off guard, the stench of vomit and feces bombarded her nose.

Amara made a slight choking sound that she tried to cover up with a weak cough. The stench was pervasive and as she inspected the room more, she noticed puddles of odd-colored liquid pooling on the floor. Some children were in beds, others simply laying on the floor, and the sounds from the bathroom down the hall were something from an exorcism.
Sick or help? A commanding voice asked to her right. Amara turned, confused and surprised.
Um, sorry, what?
Sick or help, girl? Are you here to vomit or here to mop up the vomit? A burly older woman asked, approaching Amara with an arm full of old, stained towels.
Oh, um, help. There was a job posted by the academy to- She was cut off by the woman dropping the stack of towels into Amara's arms.
Mop up what you see, including the students themselves, then give each of them a swig from these bottles. The woman dropped several bottles of thick, pink liquid onto the towels in Amara's arms.
To be clear, in case you want to get mouthy and tell me a better way to do this, I'm the head of sanitation not some nurse or doctor. We clean up what could cause more illness and we pump them full of these stomach fortifiers. That's how my mother did it and I'm here to tell the tale. Now scoot, no time like the present. The woman said to Amara, giving her a surprisingly hard shove towards the sea of groaning patients.

As Amara mopped up drying vomit and force fed the medicine, which was somehow both syrupy and chalky at the same time, she seriously began to doubt her desires to dip into the medical field. As the day concluded and she scrubbed dried diarrhea from her forearms, she reminded herself that this is not what she would be doing. She'd be in a pristine lab somewhere, studying genetic sequencing and how to splice cells just right to create medications and gene therapies that would prevent something as trivial as food poisoning from ever happening. Unfortunately, to get to such a level and have numerous underlings willing to shovel your shit, sometimes you had to start by shoveling other people's shit first.

Words: 528/500

Approved: 500 xel and 1 Free D-rank.

Mission Info:

Amara frowned, biting her lip with thought as she surveyed the massive pallet of school supplies that now sat in the loading bay of the Academy. How had no one else signed up for this job? Even just one extra student would have made this job leaps and bounds easier, but instead she was stuck with an entire pallet, weighing far more than any chunin could lift alone, never mind a tiny academy student. The pallet was comprised of multiple cardboard boxes of varying sizes, stacked in such a way that she was genuinely impressed with whoever had put it together. The whole thing was then wrapped in thick plastic to make sure it held together through the journey to the academy.

Not only would she have to bring each item up the two flights of stairs to the supply closet, but she'd also have to organize them properly and orderly within the closet. This was far more work than most of her other jobs had been and really should have required at least a second student to take the mission before being allowed to proceed. Oh well, this was life and there was no use in complaining about it. She took a deep breath before nodding and activating her Makers' Hands technique. Anyone lacking chakra vision would be unable to see the two extra sets of spectra hands that had materialized seemingly from Amara's back. They were made of psionic release chakra, making them invisible to the naked eye. She herself began cutting the plastic with a box cutter while the hands pulled the cut plastic away and began bunching it into a large ball above her head. Onlookers would simply be mystified by what was happening.

She and her hands worked diligently, boxes being torn open, inventoried and then even reorganized at times in a way that made sense to Amara. The person in charge of the mission hadn't mentioned anything about an inventory order or system, so it was up to her to decide what made sense. This was perfectly fine with the little prodigy. She hummed merrily to herself as she took the stairs slowly, purposefully, cardboard boxes floating over her head. There was no use in rushing up the stairs. This was a marathon, not a sprint and if she tired her already weak and flabby physical body before she was even halfway through, then this truly would never get done. The thought had occurred to her to attempt using fuinjutsu to seal and unseal the pallet, but she still wasn't certain enough in her abilities. The last thing she needed was to make a mistake and have an entire year's worth of school supplies simply vanish into Limbo. That would be...difficult to explain.

So, instead she worked the old fashioned way. Though it was difficult, it made her appreciate and analyze her body's physical limits. She'd never have much of a physical prowess when compared to someone like a cypher or samurai, but she could at least be aware of her physical limitations and formulate a way to overcome them.

Words: 514/500