She had always been taught this by her father. And for a long time, she had believed it to be true. That the Raiu, the Storms of Kumogakure, were in certain way undefeatable. Powerful, strong, relentless. Unyielding and eternal, even in death. They were the core power of Kumogakure, waiting for the Raikage to give them a direction before they would wash over their enemy as a raging storm.

But this last mission had shaken that belief down to its core. For a first, she doubted the teachings of her own father and the rationality of her own path. What if the Storms could bow? What if the Storms were not eternal? On that mission, she had killed for a first time in her life. She, Mizuki, the disciplined one, who believed herself to be ready for the hardships of life and the dangers of the shinobi world, felt like she was crumbling from the inside out.



Had she misunderstood those words? Was she the only one to be blamed for the  hollow feeling inside? She had been the only one to raise her katana and strike down the pirate. Her hands coloured red, even if her katana had been wiped clean. Even if she wanted to blame it on the mission's clear orders, she could have chosen to walk her own path and take its responsibility. Instead, she had bowed down and chosen to slay the man. To take his life. She, Mizuki, was the one who had given shape to the Storm that was tearing her apart now.

All she wondered now, in this quietude of her meditation, was what she was supposed to do with a Storm seemingly greater than herself, created by herself. Her mistake. An inevitable mistake, since her father's teachings would have pushed her into that direction sooner or later. But a mistake nonetheless. She was now facing her own Storm.

Only a single sentence drifted up, a poor attempt to give her a hint as to the why and hows of the shinobi world. Even if it seemingly drifted on the outer edges of her meditation, it was annoyingly present enough not to be ignored completely.



It was one of those sentences that had never truly caught on. She knew it, and she thought she understood it. Self-assured. She thought herself to be ready, but she was proven wrong. She was not ready. Not ready at all. Mizuki could feel a tear prick in her eyes despite her meditation, and pressed her mind back to the swirling pool of inner peace as she searched within herself for an answer. Forlorn, the tear rolled over her face and into her lap, never to be spoken off again.

Was this its true meaning? Did one had to face the consequences of an escalated choice? Did one had to face, in all earnesty, their own decisions and the havoc it created within? The blood that would cling on their hands for the good of the Village? What had she even tried to achieve with this kill? Pride? Power? To prove herself she could do what her father could?

Her whole world suddenly crumbled. Everything she had trained for, everything she had been taught, everything she had aimed for... Everything. Everything was being tossed to all directions by the Storm raging in her mind and heart.

No longer being able to keep her meditation, Mizuki rested her head on her arms and cried. For her dying mother. For her suffering father. For her lost sister. For her own murder.

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[Exit]
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