Kobaru had lost count of how many times he struck the tree in front of him. His focus was shifted from keeping track of how many, to simply swinging his fists until his knuckles were raw. By the two fist sized indents forming opposite each other, he could confirm that he had done more than enough. So, a number wasn't important.
He spent much of his day repeating his strikes, in hopes that it would help him perfect the form. He convinced himself that if he was better at taijutsu then he would have a better showing of his skill, the next time they faced bandits. There was also the need to distract himself from the violent end of their mission.
He was still grasping the true fragility of life.
Sure, he tended to dead bodies before, aiding in the preparation of many for their big day.
He even had the twisted misfortune of taking his own life when a willpower clone crippled himself during a suicide attempt. Another willpower clone passed on the details of death by "kunai to the skull". So, he was quite familiar with both the concept and the feeling of death. Yet even though most of them were enemies the bandits dying in his presence appeared to unsettle him.
He appreciated the village's tact in allowing him time off to mull over the attack. If this was during the war, he would have been sent back into the fighting having not come to terms with the murder. Leaving the village again without going through the stages of grief, would have surely been the end for him.
He'd only spent a day trying to overcome the trauma so far, but even then, he found his progress woeful. So, attempts to rationalize the sudden aggressive outcome of his trip were quickly made useless. The deaths were too fresh to simply ignore. Too familiar to simply forget. So, the burnt and mangled corpses of bandits were the only memories that flooded his mind when he closed his eyes. Images that grew more gruesome the longer he kept his eyes shut. A memory that somehow led him to lose sleep for the first time in his life.
That was a first for him. He hoped that it would be his last, but somewhere in his mind he knew that there were many more sleepless nights to come. Most dependent on his inevitable acceptance of murder and unholy aggression.
Was that a facet of Shinobi life he was willing to accept? If no, then he would be stuck with growing emotional turmoil because of the lives he had taken. If yes, then he would have to admit that other lives were of less value than his own.
With that thought he used the dwindling amount of control in his arms to strike the tree twice more, before collapsing. The strength in his knees quickly diminished as his legs broke down under his bodyweight. The boy slammed his head against the tree on his way down. The desperation behind his unnecessary attack held behind his gritted teeth. The scent of rusted iron filling the air the moment he made contact.
His head was thrown back off the bark, skull rattling with the force of the recoil. All the nerves in his head somehow signaling the fresh pulse of pain in his forehead.
It hurt but it was good pain. It was what he was chasing all day long. A physical disturbance so significant that it could distract him from his internal turmoil. Even if it did so for a second. He needed it to get his mind working normally again.
Kobaru fell onto his back silently fighting the pain in his hands, head and knees.
He laid there staring at the sky, deep in introspection. Reviewing his role in the eventual death of several people he just met. Sure, no blood was directly on his hand but maybe if he wasn't there the woman could have lived.
His already balled fist tightened some more as he recalled her scarred face and dark red hair.
There was something about the woman that made him feel connected to her.
He initially wrote it off as his childlike mind drawing resemblance to his mother. Yet the more he delved into himself he felt as though there was more to it.
Like they were somehow linked through a means that his amateurish mind could not correctly discern.
Maybe if it wasn't a kill or be killed situation maybe he could have learned more about her. About her people and most importantly how she learned to explode.
Kobaru took a deep breath, held it, then slowly emptied himself. Realigning his composure and loosening his grasp on his own palm. Being slammed against wood for more than four hours, his knuckles ached as the tension was released. Another sigh this one timed and labored to hopefully alleviate some of it.
After flexing his fingers a few times, he helped himself to understand that these bandits had made choices that lead to their death. That they would have died due to similar circumstances, with or without his intervention. They made their decisions and bore the consequences of it. They were all adults, and this was the life they willingly chose. He was not at fault.
He presented himself a pat on the back for his first small victory of the day, but a win was a win regardless of the situation. He would revere this victory with the same pride as the many before it.
He allowed a smile upon realizing that his mind was still sound, an important feat for him as he didn't have much else. Still, he was emotionally trapped in the fight, destined to play it over until his mind couldn't recall it. Then there was his current physical state. He wasn't going to walk anywhere soon. Having held a squat for almost five hours straight, his leg muscles were beyond fatigued.
He sighed to himself as his mind was drawn back to the bandits.
Why did she blow herself up?
Kobaru felt as though she had several other options that she failed to express. How does one settle on the idea that blowing everything sky-high was a better option than fleeing? What was the thought process involved in that? Why did he consider her prominent enough that he questioned her motives as a bandit?
"Ko?"
Kobaru craned his neck to make eye contact with whoever was standing behind him. He awkwardly bridged his back, balancing his weight on his hip and the back of his head. Then immediately dropped the form as soon as he saw his father looking down at him with raised eyebrows.
"I'm lying here because it's comfortable," Kobaru sighed before any questions could be asked.
"So, it has nothing to do with the forehead sized dent that's sitting under those two fist sized dents," the man questioned ignoring Kobaru's attempt to avoid questioning.
He walked over to where Kobaru was lying mostly motionless and decided to take a seat next to his son's broken image. As opposed to helping him up.
"I take it you're already tired of seeing dead bodies?"
Kobaru turned to his left so the man could observe the confused look on his face, "did the clone tell you?"
"No, but he did tell me you're trying to beat a tree into submission," his father smiled.
The two shared a quiet chuckle at the joke before a perfect segue into silence.
Kobaru stared at his father as the man leaned against the tree looking up to the sky. He recalled the silent reassurance his parents provided the night prior. Of course, even then the man was only half awake, but sometimes the attempt was what mattered.
"It gets easier."
"Excuse me?" Kobaru asked to ensure that he heard what was said.
"Death. It gets easier," his father sighed as though he had this very conversation before and was tired of its repetition, "and not because you see it happen enough times that you just stop caring. You'll still feel it. It's whether or not you let that feeling define you."
Kobaru turned his attention to the sky as well.
All traces of sunlight were gone, and the stars had already taken full authority over the night. The moon was yet to make its presence known. nonetheless it made for simplistic beauty. A picture-perfect night that provided an alluring background to his emotional turmoil.
The boy took in a sharp breath and exhaled an exaggerated scoff, "but our feelings are what we are? It makes us human. Isn't that right?"
"You could say that," his father responded in agreement only to add his disagreement thereafter, "but that's not completely correct. Our ability to understand, control and even rationalize our emotions is what makes us human. We always have the option to respond and not act on impulse. The ability to express perspective if anything, I think that's what makes us human. I highly doubt I could convince a neutered dog to avenge his nutsack. Even if I somehow learned to speak dog."
The man turned to his son and sighed again, "even right now you're expressing the option of rationality. Trying to define the line between morals and your line of work. Even though your choice isn't necessarily productive. There are better ways to handle things than lying in your own muck, knuckles ground down to bone with a busted forehead. There are also worst ways to handle things. None of it matters, because you've convinced yourself that it's right because of the perspective you chose.
His father chose to undercut his statement with a loud burp. A manufactured one to ensure that what he said wasn't too intense for a nine-year-old, "So why not express an option that would help you to move on efficiently. Maybe these people wanted to die. Maybe you killing them before they could commit more heinous acts of violence bought them brownie points in the afterlife-"
"One of them looked like mother," Kobaru cut the man off from rambling further, "and she sunk a kunai into one of my clone's head."
His father slowly turned to the dents in the tree and then his son's grounded frame. He stayed quiet for a while more than like carefully choosing the words for his next statement.
"I understand the dents," he paused to get a smirk from Kobaru, "Looked like your mom... Red hair? Mean?" the boy chuckled and nodded from where he was lying, "well that would just mean you inherited the will of the whirlpool isle. The clans there are kinda cursed to come across each other."
Kobaru pulled himself up into a seated position his core quickly reminded him why he was lying down in the first place. Shooting what appeared to be hot, liquid metal through his fibers. His face twisted as though he just bit into a green lime. A look that, according to his father's raised eyebrows, did not fit his features.
"What!" he said through his gritted teeth.
"Well not really a curse but like a soul bond," his father shook his head abandoning care for his son's pained expression, "everyone who has that islands blood is destined to find each other. Thanks to it I found your mom..." the man added an emphasis to his statement that made it sound as a harsh insult, "It was placed on them right after they were discovered by Lord First a failsafe to ensure that the people would always find their way home. No matter how far they travelled. I don't think they ever accounted for the clans being scattered across the continent and pitted against each other in war."
"Wait you're saying that there's a possibility that me and the bandit lady were related."
"No, I'm saying that you guys are related. Maybe extremely, barely even blood related, but the Uzumaki gene could turn the sky red. I can tell you that much. I remember seeing your head black and wondering if I cheated," his father smirked, "lucky you came across her and not a member of the Arashi's sect. It would still be raining if you did."
"Then what about them then are their genes as strong. Would their kids' children's children have orange hair?"
He made a show of placing his hand on his chin as though that would enhance his ability to think, "Orange hair is stronger than the cat eyes in most of the clan. There were like five known members with it. The only reason they became known for having them was because we were the ones that left the island. You had a higher chance of inheriting those pupils than most Arashi. Heck there's a smaller chance that they get cat eyes, than it was for you to not inherit any of your mother's features. What I can tell you is if they are descendants of the larger sect. They got the hair, missing our eyes. Then they're probably carrying some insane seal tattoos. Man, I wish I had those tattoos."
Kobaru sat trying to keep his features neutral about the bombshell that his father so casually dropped in conversation. One he was almost murdered by his family. Two he was essentially a danger magnet. So, anyone he'd ever meet with that weird hair coloration was more than likely family. He was out of the village once and was almost maimed and killed by a red head. Thankfully the Arashi appeared to be rarer than the Uzumaki so he could relax. As a matter of fact, he couldn't even imagine what a head of orange hair would look like on a pers-
Chusei.
"Anyway, my area is ushering people to the pure lands not genealogy, so don't quote me on any of this."
Kobaru rolled his eyes as his father shot into a stance.
"Can you walk?" he asked then quickly moved on when his son shot him a sheepish smile, "alright. I'll carry you. Just know you have to return the favor when I'm old and grey."
"You were sixteen when I was born. We'll be old and grey together."
"And you're gonna use whatever strength you have left to carry me around like a glorified maid."
The two shared another laugh as Kobaru was carried back to his house. Wrapping his arms around the man's neck as he went on about the trouble, he would put Kobaru through once he was of old age. It was good to hear his voice. Good to have family that didn't want you dead.
"Maid," his father sung with a playful tone, "I need my diapers changed. I hope you're listening, 'cause you're gonna be hearing a whole lot of that when I'm ninety."
XxX
Chusei sucked in the fresh air of the market district.
How he missed the tinge of sap and spice that filled the air. Sure, leaving Konoha on a mission was nice but coming back home was the real reward. Especially when everyone within a mile radius wanted to flay and or kill you. It was truly special to be back here alive and all body parts still intact.
He was discharged from the hospital as they declared him safe for self-care. As though he couldn't take care of himself the moment, he woke up last night. Yet there were no complaints, it looked as though they were happy to gain a free bed and he was at the very least happy to stretch his legs.
Chusei arrived at the barracks under nightfall. He made his way up to the fourth corridor, the sound of his sandals against metal rung throughout the building. He kept a slow rhythmic trot as to enjoy the clattering as much as possible, before being enveloped by the silence of his home. It was usually the time when most would be waiting for the water to redirect. Hopefully he didn't forget to put a bucket under the open tap.
Otherwise, his five days away would have been for nothing at all.
He walked into his apartment. Dark and quiet just as he left it.
"I'm home," he said just to hear his voice echo of the walls.
Chusei scoffed at his immaturity. This was a facet of his personality that he was growing impatient with finally overcoming.
He made his way to the bathroom and smiled upon seeing that his bucket was filled. Then frowned when he saw that the floor was soaked. This helped him to realize that he had one day worth of water in his bucket but at least four days' worth sitting in the drain.
He sighed to himself and decided to delay his issues for a later date. At that moment he needed a bath more than he needed to accurately file his bills.
Chusei took a quick soaking as he always did. Counting the bowls of water, he used as carefully as possible. Then he dried himself off and made his way over to the sink to brush his teeth. He finished what would be considered efficient brushing and turned to leave but not before winking at his reflection.
He hung his towel on the doorknob and made his way over to the bag that he carefully stuffed under his bed. He didn't own many pieces of clothing but with his methods of folding they could just barely fit in his knapsack. It was a feature, he found himself too lazy to correct, but took solace in the procrastination that he would internalize every time he looked at his clothes.
The genin quickly removed a random shirt, shorts and boxer to cover up his nakedness. Ignoring if they looked good or not. He was about to sleep not try and impress the other orphaned genin who didn't own much.
Whilst struggling to refit the clothes into his knapsack. Chusei caught a glimpse of something he had never seen before. This sent him into a state of self-interrogation as the thing he hadn't seen before was a line of black that ran over his navel. A line that shocked him into staring out the window for a few seconds as his mind claimed the marking to be a figment of his wild imagination.
This was quickly sidetracked when he realized that something was different about the reflection that winked back at him. He only saw it for a split second but there was an irregularity. Something that stood out, but he was too uncaring to give any attention, instead immediately tricking himself into believe that his mirror was broken.
He tried not to look down at his torso as he walked back to the bathroom and there it was. As bright as day.
Ink!
No. Fading ink!
Fading dark reddish-brown ink!
It was without a doubt a seal. The swirling, circular line sitting at the center of his sternum said that much. Then there was the scribbled nonsense that extended outwards but appeared to fade the further it went away from the center. He could very much tell what it was. In terms of why and when it was put on him. He was still grasping at thin air trying to figure it out.
Chusei tried to recall the only reason as to why seals were ever placed on people. According to the little he actually learned from the academy; it was to keep a large amount of energy trapped. This revelation only led him to develop a new what.
Chusei had known himself his entire life. He couldn't recall trapping something inside of his body, heck he was sure he didn't have the attention span necessary to learn fuinjutsu.
He looked down at himself and pulled at his skin to see if his chakra deprived self-painted his body as a prank for when he regained full consciousness. This theory was swiftly disproved as a section of the seal, while being pinched between his fingers, retracted into itself. Right before his very wide eyes. The very line he was looking at sought to disappear while being observed.
He had never seen such a thing on his body before and he wasn't a one tracked individual, but Chusei knew himself his entire life. He would have noticed these interesting and quite impressive looking markings on his stomach.
Suddenly the answers provided themselves in a fashion that he wasn't comfortable with.
Chusei's eyes widened some more as he looked back up at the mirror.
"Chakra exhaustion," he thought aloud.
It was the first time that he ever suffered chakra exhaustion. Maybe him forcing most of his energy out of his body lead to him syphoning a portion of it out of whatever was on the other side of the seal. That was, from his point of view, the only reason this was the first time he noticed it.
Chusei shifted through hand seals. Forcing the little amount of chakra, he had left to bend and contort as he wanted it. Proving his hypothesis correct.
The lines appeared to extend outwards then retracted in on itself once he stopped. Meaning that they were always visible upon molding chakra.
"Great sage I'm a tailed beast!"