Ok this is just an attempt to write something about narutos world. Not sure if it is any good or if all the mistakes (grammar and spelling) are fixed but...here goes nothing.
I shall shed no tears
All was well in the world.
Especially in one of the five biggest hidden villages.
The one hidden in the leaves.
There was not one thing that could drown the mood of the people and the shinobi of the place after the relief the news brought about their mortal enemies being driven away from this plane of existence for ever.
It was not a matter to be concerned about anymore, sure peace never lasts and there will always be people out there that would want to see the demise of the village for one reason or the other.
But when you have an enemy the caliber of The Madara Uchiha himself, with his band of merry S-class missing nins that went by the name of Akatsuki, not be a problem any more and not having had to lift a finger for that to come about... well then you're one lucky bastard even if you don't want to admit it.
And it paids to know that the next deep breath you're about to take won't be your last.
So, the palpable good mood all around should be understandable.
The words "underneath the underneath" doesn't seem to ring any bells to anyone at these moments except the very special few but even then at a time so serene suspicion is just overkill of the phrase 'always be on your guard'. Right?
Right...?
Hishashi Fumio (Long-lived scholar) had a thirst for knowledge ever since he could remember himself. He liked books with a passion so strong that his friends often teased him that he would eventually marry one instead of a woman. But, that was a long time ago.
Some of those friendly teasing didn't fall very much off the actual truth.
He didn't marry a book, nor did he marry a woman for that matter (not having had the luck to find that special someone). No, he was married to literature in general.
Loving every second of it as well.
Meaning, he opened his own book-store and dedicated his whole life to his small treasures (that others called Books, but not him), that put all together was what he liked to call 'his own corner on this vast earth'.
The day was Friday, being that usually he received some of his rare books on a day like this, having them delivered to his store instead of his house, after waking up around 7am and going about his daily routine to prepare for work he set of excited about the prospect of having something new to read in his hands.
He usually picked the books he was going to sell on his own after reading them first or at least leafing through them to get a fairly good idea about them. But, when you are a person who has traveled extensively in search of new and quality work from new authors, also having made some friends on positions like Hokage, Jonin and wandering merchants all of them with the same need to fulfill their perverted streak, then you're allowed to have some leeway in having dibs on some rare pieces of literature even if you're not there in person to acquire it.
You call in a few favors and voila a new interesting book in your hands without you having to step foot outside your home.
He wasn't stupid enough not to use his friends in high places when he wanted something that wasn't extreme. In most cases that's what most of these friendships were like.
You give some, you take some. Always keeping the balance.
Either way, he was lucky because his aged bones couldn't handle the long journeys anymore. He made do with what he had available.
It's not that money was of a mater after having inherited his fathers fortune.
So, here he was standing now in front of his desk in his shop after having retrieved the packet that was delivered to him in person. Unraveling this kind of packets always made him feel that like opening up presents on his birthday.
There's bound to be some disappointment when you don't pick things yourself but let others do it or believe in rumors, but each and every time there was a high chance that you would stumble upon something very interesting.
Many of the books that he leafed through were novels of different type, one of them being the new "Icha Icha paradise" volume from Jiraya of the sannin himself.
'That's going to be a hit with almost every male in the elemental countries, that's for sure' was the thought Fumio had in mind the first second he laid eyes on it.
He wasn't that fond of the series anymore, sure he was male and the kind of actions scribed in those volumes had him going beet red and giggling when he was a little younger. But now, after reading most of them several times the whole thing seemed to have lost it's shine.
Still Jiraya was a very good writer, despite his perverted tendencies. If he wasn't his publishers wouldn't have continued printing his work, Sannin or not.
There were also some instruction natured books, either for chakra control, he did know many retired shinobis who were willing to pass their knowledge to the younger generation, or jutsus. Simple ones really(for ninjas that is) nothing above C-rank, for upcoming Genins mostly who were still trying to make their way in the shinobi life.
After examining all the books, well almost all of them, he was about to leave the last book for tomorrow when he saw that it wasn't like any of the books he received.
Most of the time, they were bound in covers too illustrious or too old and faded by time and usage.
But, this one seemed like a cross between a book and a notepad.
Like someone took his notes and tried to make them look like a book of some kind.
'Without very much success' was his opinion of the whole thing.
Despite his initial opinion he spent the whole night entranced in that ugly looking book not wanting to put it down for one second, the light of his shop being the only one in the
district where it was located.
CHAPTER 1
Shinigami they call me.
Ironic really, they are not too far off the truth according to the tales that my partner in crime has been sprouting.
Didn't pay much attention to those to tell you the truth, always seemed bit farfetched and boring what with all those shit about people wielding swords that are supposed to be a representation of some kind of your inner self. And said swords changing forms.
All I knew is that I had a kickass sword that seemed alive in my hands, yes that much I can agree to, but in the end a sword is a tool to someone like me just like many people thought I'd be for them.
I'm long past the point of having feelings anymore or at least that's what I want to believe because things happening in my life show me otherwise.
Like for example this book or diary or anything you want to call it that I'm writing this very moment. I don't know why I'm filling empty pages of paper with writings about the story of my life, maybe that is how my subconscious is relieving all these pent up emotions because I won't allow my body to cry or laugh or scream or anything that is related to any kind of feeling.
I've learned the hard way that a 'soulless' ninja survives longer in this world and can not be taken advantage of, because being detached means you have nothing for others to use against you .That there, is a lesson I learned the hard way.
I didn't use to be like that.
Quite the opposite really.
This is kind of ridiculous, spending the time that I have left to live in such a fashion. Telling the world through a book my problems, but like I said all these things that I have buried inside me I guess finally found a route to at last come out in a way, that doesn't involve any outward demonstration of feelings.
If you can't avoid it at least enjoy it I had heard someone say, so I guess that's what I'll do.
Konohagakure 3rd year of my existence
At the time I didn't actually know I was 3 years old I learned it from the old man some years later in one of my conversations with him but that was when I started paying more attention to the world around me.
I didn't like what I perceived.
I understood that a lot of things the other kids took for granted, like parents, friends, a safe home environment, food, protection and many other mundane seeming, to them, things I didn't have or in some cases wasn't allowed to even.
