The children of the Leaf village soon became frantic as they wanted to hear more stories from the Sannin. It appeared they wanted to hear of the battles judging by their actions of playing out imaginary scenes of sword fights and hand seals. Sousetsu could do nothing but giggle at the now excited young people who were letting their imaginations run wild. The Senju scanned the area quickly and noted an ANBU operative within range, lurking from the shadows. His face changed from a rather happy mood to a more neutral one. The ANBU shinobi's hand was resting upon a rather familiar blade, it could have been precaution or a style that he had become accustomed to but Sousetsu knew of the rules of the village. He was considered a missing ninja and so precautions had to be made. The Senju turned to the children and gave off that infamous grin once more before announcing that he would be back in due time, patting a few on the head before making his way to the ninja of the Leaf. “Senju, Sousetsu…It has been a while…” the man announced. Sousetsu nodded in agreement. “I was hoping you would be willing to answer a few questions for me about your sudden departure, perhaps come back to my office so we could have a chat?” He then bowed formally, accepting the invitation and unsheathed his high frequency blade and bestowed it upon the ANBU to take from him to show that he had no quarrel.
"I am well aware of the precautions the village must take. I had a sudden leave of absence and I do apologize dearly. I will answer to the best of my abilities, and truthfully at that. Please do not make a scene in front of the young ones..." Sousetsu spoke as he turned to look at the children happily playing as they awaited the return of the Sannin. He did not want to be seen as a vigilante of sorts in chains before them. "I will walk with you cooperatively." Sousetsu knew that within the village there would be more than just this operative, there were others surrounding his travels, he had been here long enough. They began their journey and all Sousetsu could think of was the blade that this man wielded. Why was it so familiar? It then dawned on him that this was the very ANBU agent that he fought the infamous Uchiha, Hao with. He grinned and slightly giggled. "Surely you were acknowledged with the fight against Hao? Your efforts were great and could not have been successful without you. You did the village proud that day, and no doubt that you have improved since then." Sousetsu smiled as they continued their journey.
It might have taken some time for their travel so Sousetsu decided to fill in the time by introducing another one of his stories he had to offer. "Have you ever heard of the 'Butcher General?' Everyone knows this general as 'The Butcher.' He is strong in battle, a skilled tactician, he has mastered the techniques of turning the specifics of topography and timing to his advantage, and he is outstanding, above all, in the skills of an individual warrior. Victory on the battlefield, however, does not lead straight to butchery. Many generals have been nicknamed for their military prowess, the Victorious, the Indomitable, the Invincible, but only one is known as the Butcher..."
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"Do you know why that is, Senju?" the general himself asks as he gloats over the vast mountain of corpses. Sousetsu did not reply. He entered the fray as a mercenary, but his exploits far outclassed those of the regular troops as he was a Sannin. For the general to call a man into his presence and speak to him face-to-face is apparently an honor beyond even most officers' wildest dreams. "Not just from winning battles." the general went on. "That would be too simple, just kill the enemy general. Take the big one's head and the battle's over. Right?"Sousetsu nodded in silence. That is how this battle should have ended instead of continuing for three days. The enemy general proposed a surrender on the first day. He offered his head in exchange for the lives of his men and villagers. But the Butcher rejected the offer and continued his all-out attack on an enemy that had lost the will to fight, annihilating them in the process.
The last day was used to burn down the forest into which the unresistant village had fled. "The real battle doesn't end when you raise the victory song on the battlefield. If even one person survives, the seed of hatred lives on. I'm talking about the desire for revenge. Nothing good can come from leaving that behind. You must cut the cause of future troubles at the root." This is why the troops under the general's command killed the young men of the village after they were through exterminating the enemy troops. They also killed the unarmed old people. They killed mothers fleeing with children in their arms. They killed the children they stripped from those mothers' corpses.
"Do you think I am cruel, Senju?" Asked the general. "I do." Sousetsu answered, nodding. The officers gathered around them went pale, but the Butcher himself smiled magnanimously and went on. "You didn't do any of those things, I gather." he giggled. "My job is to kill soldiers on the battlefield. My contract doesn't call for anything else." Sousetsu spoke as he stood stoically before him. "And i'm saying that that is a foolish line of thinking. The soldiers you killed have brothers and children. Do you plan to go on living in fear of their revenge? That is sheer stupidity. If you wipe out the entire family, you can live without such worries, you see." The general laughed uproariously, and the surrounding officers all smiled in response.
Sousetsu, however, his expression unchanged, started to walk away. "Where are you going, Senju?" the general shouted, demanding an answer "We are through talking, aren't we? My contract has ended." the Sannin replied. "Never mind that. Just wait." he ordered. As the general said this, several soldiers stand to block Sousetsu's way. "Listen, Senju. I've had reports of your performance from the front lines. What do you say to fighting under me from now on? You can exploit your martial talents to the full." he said with his arm outstretched. Sousetsu looked at the hand for one short moment and bowed his head down. "I am not interested." Sousetsu spoke softly, thinking of the lives he helped this man overcome. "What's that?" the general replied swiftly, looking the Sannin up and down. "I will never draw my sword on an innocent." Sousetsu assured the general as he was now looking him dead in the eye. 'The Butcher' was momentarily taken aback, the shock written clearly on his face.
"You still don't understand, do you? You should try reading a little history. You'll find that hatred only breeds more hatred. This is what inevitably brings down even the most prosperous nations and powers, which is why I make absolutely sure to sever it at the root." The general was most likely referring to the Uchiha Clan from the past years and their capabilities. "If you ask me, general, war and butchery are two different things. The same goes for valor and brutality. Let me tell you something about hatred, too, general. It doesn't evaporate from cutting off a life. It remains in the earth, in the clouds, in the wind. I have lived my life in that belief, and I intend to go on doing so. Butchery is the work of cowards. That is what I believe." Sousetsu spoke as his rage began to grow against this man. Not he was no man to Sousetsu. His fists tightened and was only moments away from striking.
The general glared at Sousetsu, and his men drew their swords. At that very moment, from within the scorched forest came the cries of soldiers. "Here are some! Five of them still left!" "No, six!" "Over there! They went that way!" Distracted by the shouts, the general commanded his men. "Hurry, capture them! Don't let even one of them get away! Hurry! Hurry! You can't let them escape!" The men blocking Sousetsu began to fidget, and none of them thought to stop him as he calmly walked away. "Do you hear me? You must not let them escape! If even one of them gets away. I'll have your heads-all of you!" The general's calls are clearly those of a coward. The Butcher presided over many battles after that and he burned countless villages to the ground, butchering all of their inhabitants. Then, one night, something happened.
The general felt a strange itching sensation on the back of his hand. It was different from an ordinary insect bite or skin eruption. It was deeper down
and felt like a kind of squirming. He clawed at his skin, but the itch would not subside. It was very strange as there was no redness or swelling or sign of a rash. The general had burnt yet another village to the ground that day. Surrounded by beautiful countryside, the village in times of peace had been extolled as the "Flowering Hamlet." In keeping with the name, the villagers poured their energies into cultivating flowers of their hues, and the ones in full bloom in this particular season had the colour of the setting sun.
Indeed, the entire village looked as if it had been dyed the color of a beautiful afterglow. This was the villager that the general burned down with flames far redder than any sunset. The villagers, who ran in circles begging for their lives, he killed on at a time. Far redder than the sunset, far redder than the flames was the blood that soaked into the earth. Shaking the hand that refused to stop itching, the general took a swallow of liquor and in that moment it happened.
Tearing through the thin skin of the back of his hand, a number of small grain-like things that emerged from within. No blood flowed. No pain accompanied them. Exactly the way plants sprout from the earth. No, the things that covered over the back of his before his very eyes were, unmistakably, plant sprouts. Horrified, the general took a razor to the back of his hand and tried to shave the things off. When the blade came in contact with them, however, they gave off sounds like human moans-sounds exactly like the moans of a human being dying in agony as his entire body is slashed by swords. Or like the moans of a person who is being burned alive. Holding the razor in one hand to shave the other, he could not cover his ears. His body was soaked in a greasy sweat by the time he succeeded in shaving the horrible things from the back of his hand. To salve his own anger, he shouted for the men who were supposed to be guarding him. He scolded them for not checking on him when the screams were heard. But the guards did not hear anything. The general glared at his guards, enraged, but after struggling to keep his welling anger in check, he shouted for them to leave. He was too upset to waste time on subordinates. Almost immediately, the itching attacked the back of his hand again.
But this time it was not limited to his hands as his whole body started to itch. Alone again, the general tore off his nightclothes and inspected his entire body in the moonlight seeping through the roof of the tent. The things were sprouting from everywhere now, and some even had leaves beginning to grown on them. The general raised a soundless scream and began wildly attacking the growths wherever he could reach them. Each one he cut from his body released a horrible moan. His bed sheets turned green before his eyes, and soon the numberless sprouts were transforming into numberless human corpses. They covered not only his bed, but the whole earth, before they melted into the darkness of night and vanished. One sleepless night followed another in endless succession. The horrible things kept sprouting from his skin however he cut them off. Ointments had no effect. He could not speak of this to his subordinates. If a rumor spread that strange plants were sprouting from the Butcher's body, it would embolden his enemies and discourage his allies. One of his subordinates might even try to take his head at night.
His cowardice had earned him, the name of the Butcher, and that same cowardice was what turned the general into a lonely, isolated man. He had no one he could tell about this. Each night the general would wage his lonely battle through, perhaps it could not be called a battle precisely. The things merely sprouted from his body and put up no resistance. When he took the razor to them, they would simply moan and fall away. What the general was engaged in on his own was less a battle than lonely butchery. Several more nights went by. The sprouting continued with undiminished force. The single fortunate aspect, perhaps, was that the things only sprouted in places on his body where the general could reach with his razor. This could as well have been a curse, however. The general had no choice but to go on shaving the things precisely because he could reach them. Precisely because he was able to perform the butchery by himself. He could not call for help. His lonely butchery continued. His sleepless nights continued.
The general's flesh wasted away. Why is this happening? the general asked himself. Why did this have to happen to me? This is a time of war. I am here on the battlefield. I have to kill the enemy in order to survive. In order to give myself future peace of mind, I have to kill them all, both armed and unarmed. He spent his days sprawled on his bed. Eyes open or closed, he would see images of his past scenes of butchery. Now he began to recall the words of a skilled but insolent mercenary, Sousetsu. Hatred doesn't evaporate from cutting off a life. It remains in the earth, in the clouds, in the wind. The general wanted to see that man again to see him and ask him again, "Have I been wrong all these years?" The man himself, a man of few words, would probably not answer his question. Still, the general wanted to see him again, that mercenary, Sousetsu. The sun went down. The night gradually deepened. As always, the itching started and the plants began to sprout.
The general, grasping the razor in fingers that now looked like withered branches, no longer had the strength to shave them off. His back began to itch. This was the first time the things had sprouted someplace beyond his reach as if they had been waiting for this opportune moment. Sprawled on his bed, the general let the razor drop from his hand. He didn't care anymore. The sprouts kept growing, creeping over him, and before long they had covered him completely. At that point his back split open and an unusually large sprout emerged. By dawn the sprout had fully matured, and before the cock crowed, it produced a single blossom the colour of an evening afterglow.
Months later. Visiting the old battlefield, Sousetsu found a flower garden there. Blooming in profusion are flowers of cleary different shape and color than the ones along its border. He was accompanied by a young lady. She was a genjutsu user who loved flowers. "Thank you, Sousetsu. she said softly as she looked upon the grave of the general.
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"I helped a village that was under attack by that man. They thought he went mad and ultimately ended his own life. I found that little girl and she showed me what she could do. I wanted the man to pay for his inhumane ways. I wanted people to be safe." Sousetsu ended his story with only regret that he had worked for this man. He did not know what he was capable of when he accepted the job but immediately hated his decision once he found the truth. 'Forgive me.' Sousetsu thought to himself asking the many people whose lives may have ended at his fault.
They soon arrived the Sarutobi compound. The great ninja clan that the village hidden in the leaves had to offer with their fire techniques and their training methods. It was all coming together. They arrived within the ANBU's office soon where Sousetsu stood stoically before the desk of the man. His clothes were still worn and tattered from his travels but this was a matter that could not wait. "Forgive my appearance." Sousetsu spoke in respect. The fabrics were wearing thin, scratches were visible and torn in various parts of the attire. Dirt and dust had gathered on his flak jacket and smudges on his face. His hands were by his side within view of the man for any sudden movements. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible. He took note of the room. Fine wood that was well varnished and gave off a hint of oak. The desk was organised but cluttered with stacks of paperwork on the rims. He was offered a seat by the man in which he honored by seating opposite him. Another smile was given from the Senju. He finally realized who this man was and became more at ease with this discovery. "How are you, Mitsuo?"
Words: 7000/7000 [Senjutsu training C>B Complete]
Words: 2215/8000 [Senjutsu training B>A]