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Memoirs. (private) Sat Apr 21, 2018 2:02 am
Yōsei
S-rank
Sequestered in the land of lost ghosts, Yōsei sat before his partner. The two shared no words, feasting in silence on the strips of fried meat which the Sealer collected from his provisions. They understood there were no words to say, neither Hika or the Sealer would add anything to the energy of this sacred land. How many days had it been? It was impossible to tell in this place beyond time. Yōsei rose his hand, wind coiling more walls around the edge of their firepit to serve as an extra cushion for his throne of dust. Briefly, he would stare at Hika, who was still learning to survive in these harsh environments. The Sealer reached out a gloved hand, and the flames between the two rose at his will, shaping into a wreath which encircled the two, leaving embers burning in sacred shapes where once the fire lay.
"I will tell you the stories of my life, while we search this Holy Land for the shadow we seek, you will become the keeper of my memoirs. I have lived long on this world, seen every inch of its tainted soil from East to West. Where we now lay is called the End of Everything, ancient and lost, where those who have grown weary of life may slip off silently to die. We are here in search of one such as me, a collector of shadows. A life of sin leads us to this place, where lost killers seek redemption or death; whichever comes first. By happenstance alone, you have crossed into my journey, and thusly I have accepted you in kind. Listen carefully; I will tell you of my folly so that you may learn to save this cursed earth, for that is my promise.
An age ago there was a golden kingdom in the forest, and one of its greatest knights was a man dressed in white, known for his mercy. This champion was my father, and through his teachings, I would become the warrior I am today. My earliest memories are of traveling the five great nations before even learning the word shinobi; determined to foster my growth, I was to be given tutelage by five of my father's closest allies. This story is of the first such master, a man who lived in the Land of Fire..."
As dawn broke over Konoha, the summer would be immediately apparent. Short, dry nights left the landscape warm by shortly after sunrise, long, thin shadows stretching out from the city walls, blending with the forest to shield its inhabitants from the baking sun. Though the city was only just stirring, two figured were already traversing the wilderness; miles out of the Hidden Village, a man and boy walk side by side. Dressed officially, the man wears a white Konohagakure jacket; at his hip, he bears an elegant blade in pitch black sheath. The boy, barely five, smiles as the pair converse, young eyes peering out across the new land from beneath a wreath of blonde hair. The pair would journey for another hour away from home toward a village which lay at the border between this country and the Land of Grass.
"Who's your friend anyway, Dad?" Mituhide's voice rang out, the boy hopping forward, throwing punches at the air while impatiently trotting along.
"Senju, Kokura. He is a dear friend, a powerful shinobi who I have known my whole life. You know we will be gone for many months, we won't see home again for a long time; that's why we're starting our journey here, Mitsuhide. Kokura will teach you the first lesson on your path to becoming a ninja, the value of life."
While the boy's eyes would light up at the prospect of a powerful shinobi, they would ultimately end in a state of confusion when his father's sentence stopped. Tilting his head, Mitsuhide let out a quizzical noise and then his gaze was pulled away by the sound of birds fluttering from a nearby tree. Laughing, the man picked up his gait, amused by the boy's short attention span. They would wander through a dense forest, winding path overgrown and rendered nearly useless by decades of neglect. Mitsuhide navigated the hazards as only a boy would, by making a game of his footsteps, avoiding obstacles and prescribing them dealy machination in his head. Imaginative fancies became the cornerstone for his first memories of training; blurry shapes shooting vicious dragon's heads of flame and the edges of shadows lined with blades strung taut as if the string of a drawn bow. For his memories of childhood, danger lurked around every corner; even this lost moment preserved in his mind precluded to a life of death bleeding into death.
When the trees broke into a vast plain of long grass, it wasn't long before the young Namikaze was off, lost in the swaying reeds with the butterflies and birds. Trudging a straight path through the roll hills, the Father would stand in contrast to Mitsuhide's wild patterns, the spiraling shapes of pressed grass left in the wake of his playtime. A distant hill was home to the coiled shack of tree roots built around the base of a mighty oak. Kokura's house, constructed with Mokuton, was home to the lone monk who created it with his own chakra. The pair of Namikaze approached lazily, taking their time in the now late morning to enjoy the warm sun and fresh breeze. Mitsuhide made it up the hill long before his father, waiting for the man to catch up he spent the time staring at the clouds where he would pick out shapes and fill them in with his mind. Flight of fancy stopped when he felt the heavy hand on his shoulder snap his eyes back to the house.
With a loud knock came the reply of shuffling from beyond and then the shifting of wood, cracking with the sound of Kokura's willpower. The main slab parted away, roots revealing the shape of a man who stood yawning, dressed only in a white sheet, with wild ashen hair as long as his impressive height. Not what the boy had expected, Mitsuhide let out a laugh and then swiftly covered his mouth, stifling the remaining snickers before his father would motion with his hand, a casual wave which meant for him to enjoy the fields and play for a while. An embrace shared between old friends would be followed by a conversation not relayed in the story of Yōsei's past.
"It's been a long time, Kokura. It is time to pay your debt."
"Your son?"
"You will take him while I find plant the flags, you will teach him all you know and make sure he understands. Mistuhide is my son; he is an exceptional young ninja with a will to learn but a stubborn heart. This is the contract we signed, in exchange for what I will do for all of us, you will ensure that Mistuhide receives the foundation he needs to do what must be done. He is my hope, and yours as well."
"Light the way to the last lost places, old friend. I will do my part."
1222
1200 trains B-rank sealing technique (-20% clan perk)
"I will tell you the stories of my life, while we search this Holy Land for the shadow we seek, you will become the keeper of my memoirs. I have lived long on this world, seen every inch of its tainted soil from East to West. Where we now lay is called the End of Everything, ancient and lost, where those who have grown weary of life may slip off silently to die. We are here in search of one such as me, a collector of shadows. A life of sin leads us to this place, where lost killers seek redemption or death; whichever comes first. By happenstance alone, you have crossed into my journey, and thusly I have accepted you in kind. Listen carefully; I will tell you of my folly so that you may learn to save this cursed earth, for that is my promise.
An age ago there was a golden kingdom in the forest, and one of its greatest knights was a man dressed in white, known for his mercy. This champion was my father, and through his teachings, I would become the warrior I am today. My earliest memories are of traveling the five great nations before even learning the word shinobi; determined to foster my growth, I was to be given tutelage by five of my father's closest allies. This story is of the first such master, a man who lived in the Land of Fire..."
As dawn broke over Konoha, the summer would be immediately apparent. Short, dry nights left the landscape warm by shortly after sunrise, long, thin shadows stretching out from the city walls, blending with the forest to shield its inhabitants from the baking sun. Though the city was only just stirring, two figured were already traversing the wilderness; miles out of the Hidden Village, a man and boy walk side by side. Dressed officially, the man wears a white Konohagakure jacket; at his hip, he bears an elegant blade in pitch black sheath. The boy, barely five, smiles as the pair converse, young eyes peering out across the new land from beneath a wreath of blonde hair. The pair would journey for another hour away from home toward a village which lay at the border between this country and the Land of Grass.
"Who's your friend anyway, Dad?" Mituhide's voice rang out, the boy hopping forward, throwing punches at the air while impatiently trotting along.
"Senju, Kokura. He is a dear friend, a powerful shinobi who I have known my whole life. You know we will be gone for many months, we won't see home again for a long time; that's why we're starting our journey here, Mitsuhide. Kokura will teach you the first lesson on your path to becoming a ninja, the value of life."
While the boy's eyes would light up at the prospect of a powerful shinobi, they would ultimately end in a state of confusion when his father's sentence stopped. Tilting his head, Mitsuhide let out a quizzical noise and then his gaze was pulled away by the sound of birds fluttering from a nearby tree. Laughing, the man picked up his gait, amused by the boy's short attention span. They would wander through a dense forest, winding path overgrown and rendered nearly useless by decades of neglect. Mitsuhide navigated the hazards as only a boy would, by making a game of his footsteps, avoiding obstacles and prescribing them dealy machination in his head. Imaginative fancies became the cornerstone for his first memories of training; blurry shapes shooting vicious dragon's heads of flame and the edges of shadows lined with blades strung taut as if the string of a drawn bow. For his memories of childhood, danger lurked around every corner; even this lost moment preserved in his mind precluded to a life of death bleeding into death.
When the trees broke into a vast plain of long grass, it wasn't long before the young Namikaze was off, lost in the swaying reeds with the butterflies and birds. Trudging a straight path through the roll hills, the Father would stand in contrast to Mitsuhide's wild patterns, the spiraling shapes of pressed grass left in the wake of his playtime. A distant hill was home to the coiled shack of tree roots built around the base of a mighty oak. Kokura's house, constructed with Mokuton, was home to the lone monk who created it with his own chakra. The pair of Namikaze approached lazily, taking their time in the now late morning to enjoy the warm sun and fresh breeze. Mitsuhide made it up the hill long before his father, waiting for the man to catch up he spent the time staring at the clouds where he would pick out shapes and fill them in with his mind. Flight of fancy stopped when he felt the heavy hand on his shoulder snap his eyes back to the house.
With a loud knock came the reply of shuffling from beyond and then the shifting of wood, cracking with the sound of Kokura's willpower. The main slab parted away, roots revealing the shape of a man who stood yawning, dressed only in a white sheet, with wild ashen hair as long as his impressive height. Not what the boy had expected, Mitsuhide let out a laugh and then swiftly covered his mouth, stifling the remaining snickers before his father would motion with his hand, a casual wave which meant for him to enjoy the fields and play for a while. An embrace shared between old friends would be followed by a conversation not relayed in the story of Yōsei's past.
"It's been a long time, Kokura. It is time to pay your debt."
"Your son?"
"You will take him while I find plant the flags, you will teach him all you know and make sure he understands. Mistuhide is my son; he is an exceptional young ninja with a will to learn but a stubborn heart. This is the contract we signed, in exchange for what I will do for all of us, you will ensure that Mistuhide receives the foundation he needs to do what must be done. He is my hope, and yours as well."
"Light the way to the last lost places, old friend. I will do my part."
1222
1200 trains B-rank sealing technique (-20% clan perk)
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 