Power. The unmitigated ability to kill whomever dared to stand in ones way - the sort of strength that so many people sought after, the power so many people fought and died for in their incessant endeavors to become the strongest of their generation, until their bodies withered away and their minds deteriorated and a new champion was born and raised. It was such an interesting thing to observe from a mortal point of view, of which Takao was more than happy he was viewing it from. Immortality in a world of death and hatred seemed like an incredibly dreary existence, and certainly not one that Takao had any intentions or desires to endure.

So he chose to observe things whenever he could, for he knew that the day that would bring forth his end could be just around the corner. Surely if he were to give in to such naive paranoias and worry about how he would die, and when it would happen, he would live an incredibly stressful life. Even more so than at present.

His dull, dreary, and near lifeless onyx gaze fell earth ward, and settled upon the vast expanse of water that laid lazily before him. It was his greatest enemy. An undefeated rival, whom would surely be his death one day...

But perhaps not.

Perhaps there was something he could do to change that self proclaimed fate of his, a destiny he had previously thought to be inescapable, when in reality there was a very real and very attainable crutch for him to use.

“Raiton.” The words escaped his mouth in a whisper as he stared at his reflection in the water. “Every element has a strength and a weakness... Fire consumes wind and becomes stronger. Wind insulates lightning and nullifies it. Lightning pierces through earth and reduces it to rubble. Earth is porous and absorbs water... ...and water smothers flames.” His external monologue helped him think on some occasions, such as this one.

“...and of course, there are advanced elements that use multiple contributions as well. Ice, for instance... It poses the biggest threat to me, should I ever encounter a user. Although they do have one inherent weakness as well, which is lightning release.” A slow exhale left his mouth. He reached down into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a palm sized carton. After tapping the bottom of the box to pack the tobacco down, he pulled one of the cigarettes out from within and placed it in the corner of his mouth.

He exhaled, igniting the end with a small wispy ember that left his lungs as if it were second nature to him. Then he inhaled, his eyes closing with delight as he felt the smoke fill his lungs to their capacity. It was such a terrible feeling. His throat burned, his eyes felt dry almost immediately, and yet he absolutely loved it. It was so close to how it felt to procure flames from his lungs. So close. It almost felt real... almost.

He lowered himself down to sit at the shore of the lake and closed his eyes once again. His legs folded into one another to provide his meditative posture with some comfort, and his hands rested in his lap. Forcing himself to learn a new element entirely on his lonesome without any prior help would be a monumental and terribly difficult, if not nigh impossible task, but it was something he wanted to do. He wanted to survive, so that one day he might see the world alight with his fire.

In order to learn an element entirely foreign to him without the aid of another person, his best idea was to meditate on the elements that he knew.

Fire. It was destruction, chaos, and greedy. It consumed everything it could until nothing more was present to be consumed, and then it died. However, it was also life. It presented warmth and comfort that is necessary for human life, and was the nature closest to Takao. He knew it best – it came to him like second nature from birth.

Wind. It was... complicated. He couldn't compare it so much to water despite both natures having an element of fluidity to them; water in the literal sense, and wind in the sense that it was a calm element. Wind was sharp, and wind was concussive. It shared the ability to rend things apart with the nature transformation of lightning, but not much else.

The elements were different from each other in so many ways, and that was precisely why he was interested in teaching himself a third. Wind was manageable, fire was predictable, but lightning... It was a rogue element amidst the control Takao had become much too familiar with to dive in with confidence. Lightning was unpredictable and wild in ways that he was entirely unfamiliar with, which meant that it would take a steady hand and cautiousness in order for him to proceed.

…burn...

“Why now?” His throat rumbled with annoyance as the words escaped.

...them all...

Burn. Burn. Burn.

His eyes narrowed. The devil on his shoulder was being louder than usual, but it was rare that he was able to inflict unmitigated destruction upon a large crowd of individuals and actually succeed in completing his objective. Sure, their only real objective was to take down the leader and scatter the gang, but if he were to do that, they would undoubtedly rise again with a new leader. Why not end the lineage there, and salt the earth to prevent any unwanted weeds from sprouting up again? It would prevent future issues from arising, surely.

Burn their skin to the bone, hear them scream in pain so agonizing, unlike anything they've ever felt before. Do it. Do it before they kill you.

Takao's jaw tensed and he stood up from his seated meditative position. That psychotic voice in his head was beginning to overwhelm him, and he wasn't interested in wasting any more time with mulling over the subtle and not so subtle differences between the elements he knew and the elements he was planning to pursue. The shadowed figure standing behind him was beginning to grow louder and more restless, which meant that it wouldn't allow itself to be ignored much longer. His right hand adjusted the glove on his left, and he cast a sidelong glance to Suutei. "I'll take the masses. You handle the leader." He wasn't necessarily the leadership on this particular excursion, but the militant side of him just couldn't help but take charge.

Burn them all. Burn them all. They'll kill you if you don't. They want you dead. Burn them or else they'll kill you. Do it. Burn them all.

There were times Takao was silently glad that he was such a mentally resilient person. His willpower wasn't the strongest by any means, but when it came to something he dealt with on a near daily basis, there was nobody better suited to resist the temptations than he... and yet, so often did he find himself waning in the direction of the shadow.

He glanced over his shoulder and, of course, saw nothing. But the figure was still there. It was whispering into his ear, just repeating those irritating three words over and over again.

“Burn them all. Burn them all. That's all you ever have to say, isn't it? Nothing creative, nothing convincing... You think I'll give in to you so easily just because you say they want to kill me?” He was talking to himself now... or rather, perhaps arguing. Either way, it was never a good sign that somebody's mental stability was... well, stable, for starters.

“Plenty of people want to kill me. These people aren't anything or anybody special, the only difference is they have a valid reason. If they want to attack me, fine. So be it. I won't stop them. But I won't do anything before then. I'm not that much of a coward yet.”

Pff. Valid reason... What utter shit. Every time his mouth spoke those words, his mind laughed. On that day so many years ago, he had provided the Tsuchikage with ample chance to explain the situation, but he only gave more questions than answers. It was arguably Takao's fault that so many of the world's leaders had been gathered in the same area, but... If they couldn't handle their opponents in the Land of Iron during the Summit, were they really as fit to lead as some had thought? Power was attainable, any stubborn headed mutt of a shinobi could and would attain it with enough perseverance. But intelligence... It was so hard to teach a stupid person who didn't believe themselves to the stupid. The young were like that. Takao was once like that, but he had long since been humbled through hardship and coming to terms with his vices. He wasn't the strongest, but there wasn't any reason he couldn't be. He wasn't the smartest, but he knew that, and he could grow and learn. ...and he would.

His eyes narrowed. Training another element would have to wait for a little while longer. Takao had some steam to blow off, and he needed to silence that voice as quickly as he could. He knew better than anybody that letting the shadow fester and grow louder would only make the subsequent outburst that much worse.

Word Count:	[1573]
Total Word Count:	[1573]

He wanted to fight it. Really, he did. He wanted to see the figure with his own eyes, not just his imagination. He wanted to see the shadows that lurked behind him, whispering anxious words that pushed him closer and closer toward the edge of destruction, telling him of how the world was against him and how if he didn't act, they would be his death. He knew it wasn't true... well, he knew most of it wasn't true.

They would eventually be his death, he knew that much was true. Takao was a shinobi, and not just a normal shinobi. He was a ninja with a name to his face, and a reputation to be spread. He had never intended to be a shinobi of... well, any kind of social standing, really. He often looked back and reminisced on his adolescence, the childhood he spent in the presence of his father whom had trained him despite Takao never showing any real interest in the shinobi lifestyle. In fact, it wasn't until... less than a year before he became Hokage that he actually took any of that sort of training seriously.

You're strong. They're weak. Kill them all, burn them to ashes. Burn their village. Their families. All of them. They want you dead, kill them first. They're weak. You're strong.

“Ugh...” Takao groaned and raised his right hand to hold his pounding head. The rough fabric of the palm of his glove helped to massage the throbbing flesh that was bringing him so much turmoil. “Why're you so loud all of a sudden...?” The words escaping his mouth were significantly weaker than normal.

He never let himself be seen in this particular state of being... the state of being weak. He hated the thought of showing weakness, it only opened himself up to be hurt. When he showed weakness in the chuunin exams, he lost. One could argue this wasn't exactly a valid point to bring up considering his overarching success in the exams, but he still considered it a failure to have even put himself in that situation.

The Summit was another excellent example. He hated how he was tricked so easily, and how his being fooled lead to the death of important figureheads. Takao had displayed quite a bit of weakness then, in terms of combat prowess and political experience. He wanted justice to be served and cared so little about how it was done that... well, things went wrong, and he suffered for it.

Then this most recent occasion, at the hands of his own father. The man had never been particularly... idolized... by Takao. Most sons held their fathers in high regard and topmost esteem. They were the men in their lives that could do no wrong, but Takao's was a bit different. It wasn't particularly uncommon for some children, especially shinobi, to have strict fathers, but Takao couldn't imagine that many fathers would regularly set their child on fire in a brutish effort to rid them of their fear of the element. Takao had been an utter disgrace in his father's eyes, even if the man never openly displayed it, for his childish fears during his youth. To be afraid of fire in a clan that flourished and thrived amidst the head... he was the black sheep of the family.

But, of course, these types of traumatic events were a lot like a fire. Even if the flames died down over time, the coals would still be warm. As such, his developed schizophrenia that had been dormant for his time as a lower ranking shinobi had only recently resurfaced following the most recent toxic encounter with his father – the same encounter that had brought Takao to the village hidden in the stones.

He'll kill you because you didn't burn him. You should've burnt him. You should've ended him then so that he couldn't end you now. You're weak. He's strong.

“Ngh... Shut up, you stupid... thing.” Takao grunted, vigorously rubbing the temples of his head. “We can't even burn each other. It's impossible for Kimura to hurt each other with fire, you know that. You know that better than anyone...” He shook his head. He refused to be one of those kinds of people, the dreary sort that would dwell on their past and held onto their grievances and their traumas, looking for sympathy and compassion. He didn't need anything of the sort. Takao was strong, both mentally and physically. If anybody would be able to overcome this debilitating illness without too much residual damage, it would be him. It had to be him.

It had to be.

He exhaled and the voices persisted. So rarely did he receive the pleasantry of even a moment of silence to himself without that figure standing over him, whispering those same words like a broken record player stuck on repeat. Burn this, burn that, they'll kill you if you don't burn them, you're strong, they're weak. It was a song that was permanently on loop, burned into his subconscious to the point that he was sure he'd never forget it.

But what worried him wasn't the fact that he had a shadow following him all the time, leaning over his shoulder and speaking sweet words of destruction and chaos into his ear. Oddly enough, he'd come to tolerate it to some extent. His threshold waned and bloated every once in a while, but never broke. It wasn't that which upset him so greatly...

The voice was just so familiar.

He couldn't picture a face that matched the voice. It seemed like one he'd heard all his life, and the words seemed so familiar, but he just credited that toward hearing the voice so often every day. Yet it still felt like it was something... more. Something he'd forgotten. It was an inclination that had lead Takao to do extensive research about memories and how the brain processed them. Ultimately, it had been inconclusive. He had learned that the brain stored memories as intricate as facial details and voices, and that dreams could call upon those memories, but this was his conscious thought that brought forth the shadow and the words that it spoke.


“Why do I know that voice..?”

Word Count:	[1046]
Total Word Count:	[2619]

“...Why do I know that voice..?”

That was the question that persisted in Takao's head, amidst all the thoughts of destruction brought on by the voice that spoke into his left ear like a man of shadows was standing behind him. He had long since stopped asking himself why he had these thoughts, and why he felt himself to be as destructive as he did, but now... now, in present day, those questions had been disregarded.

He wanted to know the origin of the voice.

It wasn't inhuman. It was definitely familiar. The more he thought about it, the deeper the hole was dug. The voice and shadow that plagued him weren't some mystical or supernatural entity. It wasn't some metaphorical voice in his head created and maintained solely by his subconscious either, yet it wasn't a physical entity that he could reach out and touch. In fact, the shadow that followed him around had never been seen in its entirety. Just fleeting glances; subtle movements out of the corner of his eye and an ominous feeling that stubbornly persisted. It was terribly frustrating and immensely infuriating. It was like a staircase that never ended. A mountain he could never climb to the summit of. A battle he would fight for an eternity, yet never win. Terribly frustrating indeed.

But what could have caused such a persistent entity to manifest in Takao's subconscious? He hadn't always been this way-- at least, not that he could remember. It only began flaring up after his leg had been badly damaged...

Wait... his leg.


“A Nii'gata will not be afraid of fire! It is our element; we were born with it, our lives are moulded by it. We were forged in flame and blood, and I'll be damned if any son of mine will desecrate our legacy by a pathetic, childish phobia!” Rin's voice changed pitch and tone throughout his tirade, arms flailing in an enthusiastic display of his frustration. His words were directed toward the woman who sat across from him at the table-- when he had been sitting, anyways.

Rin was a spectacular shinobi, and he had the looks to show for it. He had toned, tightly corded muscles beneath pale skin that suggested a lifetime of training. His hair was jet black and he had slightly lighter eyes to match. The uniform he wore, typical for Konohagakure shinobi of respectable ranks, displayed that he was indeed a shinobi of reputation.

The woman was in stark contrast. Her bright red hair and slender muscles under tanned skin created a much more delicate appearance, and rightfully so. Her position as a medical professional didn't demand very much at all from her physically, which afforded her the opportunity to maintain a petite quality to her appearance.

“Dear, he's just a boy. I'm sure that if you give him enough time and help him through it, he'll get over his fears.” Her voice, also in start contrast to her husband's, was calm and soothing.

Takao smiled. The paper walls did little to dampen the noise, especially that loud voice of his father's, throughout the house. Of course the young boy, who could have been no older than ten years old, would have been curious about what all the yelling was about. It was rather upsetting to realize that it was about him.

“Anei, you don't understand-- the fact that he's afraid at all... He has so much potential. Could this be a sign?” By now the overly emotional man had fallen back into his chair, his tone having drastically changed from upset and aflutter to defeated and... almost a bit hopeless.

“Now you're just being over dramatic. He's our son, Rin. Your blood and mine. He's not weak, and he's not hopeless. You just need to... work things through with him; be there for him, like a father should be.” Her voice retained its calm tone as the words flowed from her mouth like sweet honey. A hand was raised and delicately placed on his arm, and the two exchanged a look; a smile on her face and a worried expression on his. A sigh escaped Rin's mouth and he dropped his head, nodding slowly.

“It isn't going to be easy.”


Takao raised his hands to rub his face, the abrasiveness of the rough fabric on the palms of his gloves trying to scratch away the memories. They hadn't been totally forgotten, just... repressed, mostly. He recalled his childhood in brief stints of memory like that, like small video clips that would randomly make themselves known.

The teen recalled his early childhood. He had been told by his father that he and those that shared his blood were fire incarnate, living flames whose purpose in life was the burn brighter than any other. Yet something as simple as a small burn on his wrist had thrown that entire purpose into question. How could fire burn itself? He was fire in the flesh, yet his skin blistered and bubbled from the heat. For a nine year old boy, the pain was immense, even if in present day he would find it almost entirely negligible.

Takao glanced down at his wrist as he pulled his sleeve back. The scar remained, if fainted and faded quite a bit over the years. His unsaturated gaze settled on the sight and lingered.



“Burn them all, Takao!” Rin yelled as his grey gaze set upon the ring of fire. Situated uncomfortably in the middle, with flames on every side of him, wisping and licking at his skin yet not burning him, was a black haired boy no older than ten. He was clearly in a panic; sporadic breathing, constant turning as his similar grey eyes reflected the bright intensity of the flames.

“We have countless enemies that want us dead! They'll kill you if you don't, so burn them!” His voice had become white noise to Takao now, silently absorbed by his subconscious to haunt him at a later date. But all he could do now is stare at the flames, trying to find a way out.

“Do it! Burn them all!”


Takao's eyes opened and his eyebrows furrowed in realization.

“It's... it was him.”

Word Count:	[1049]
Total Word Count:	[3668]

“...It's... it was him.”

Realization struck Takao like a bolt of lightening, rocking him to his core and causing him to come to a complete halt. His forward stride had stopped entirely, as if he was frozen in place by forces beyond his control. His eyes widened and jaw fell slack. Then his jaw tensed, his eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows furrowed. A range of emotion played out on his face like an actor showing his ranges.

“It was him all this time?!” Takao yelled out, his voice echoing throughout the canyon. His frustration was beginning to boil over, like his body was the kettle and his anger was the simmering water just ready to blow. His teeth began to grind against one another, top against bottom, and veins formed in his forehead from the sheer stress of the realization.

“How... how could I have been so blatantly... so ignorant... so blind to something so... so obvious! All this time that bastard's been in my head, pulling my strings like I was a god damned marionette!” His hands rose to his head and applied pressure to his temples, his head shaking from side to side. “You've got to be kidding me! I'm so... so god damn, fuckin' stupid!”

Was he angry at his father for putting him through hell-- somewhat in a literal sense, at least in regards to the fire-- or was he frustrated with himself for repressing the memory that held the key to the source of his awakened madness. The shadow that followed him, the dark figure of which was constantly evading his direct gaze... it wasn't some random figure or some inhuman entity. He knew exactly what it was... or rather, who it was.

Takao dropped to his knees. He wanted to laugh, to smile, to cry... He wanted to slam his fist into the ground until the meat was torn from his body and the bones were broken beyond repair, wanted to clench his jaw so tightly that his teeth shattered and his jaw detached. The anger inside him was growing like a wildfire feeding on a dead forest.

“I'm going to kill that man... I'll rend him limb from limb!” said Takao – or rather, shouted Takao. He slammed his fist into the ground and watched hairline cracks form across the surface. The teen was trembling with anger now, his ire sparked and his fury directed toward one single target, clear as the day.

“I know you're here in the Earth Country somewhere... and once this leg is fixed, I'm going to come find you.” He was speaking to the air now, or perhaps even the shadow he felt lurking over his shoulder. The words it spoke into his ear never registered with him, even if he knew exactly what the personified childhood trauma in the shape of his father was saying to him.


”...” The table was silent, only the sounds of cutlery against porcelain piercing the quiet like a knife on a chalkboard. The tension in the air was very apparent to each of the three individuals present; Anei, Rin, and Takao.

Family dinners like the one they were enduring presently had become commonplace for the Kimura Nii'gata household after the incident. Anei had found Takao, hyperventilating and nearly on the verge of self asphyxiation from panicking as a result of being surrounded by fire, on the day that Rin had attempted to force Takao's fear out of his body. Since that day, Anei and Rin's relationship struggled.

Her son had nearly been killed at the hands of her husband, surely she couldn't have been content with such behaviour. There was chastising to be done, but something was preventing her from doing it. Fear, perhaps. Scared she might say the wrong thing and add fuel to the fire that was her husband's festering anger, or perhaps direct even worse punishments onto Takao by proxy.

“...listen, Takao...” said Rin, his words reaching the boy but his gaze set stalwart on the bowl in front of him. “What I did, with the... the y'know.” He was deliberately avoiding the word “fire”. That was a good start.

“I was doing it for your own good, y'know? You're a Nii'gata, so... it's in your blood to use it. I know you might be scared, but it's something we can overcome together. As father and son. I want to help you.”


Takao scoffed. “Yeah, right... Help me...” He shook his head and placed his hand on his right knee. He pushed himself up to stand on his left leg first, regaining his balance and shifting his weight before raising his weakened right leg to stand upon. “I wouldn't be surprised if that old man just wanted me gone for good for “desecrating the legacy”. What a pile of utter shit.”

His eyes closed and he mulled over those words...

Word Count:	[857]
Total Word Count:	[4525]