Chapter 1: It's a Funny Thing
Chakra, it's a funny thing.
That's what this story is about, Chakra, and nothing else.
You might think this story is about war and hidden villages, but you'd be wrong. Without chakra I doubt a single hidden village would exist, there just wouldn't be a point, I suppose. You might think it's about shinobi, but again, wrong. Without chakra, even the Yondaime (4th) Hokage could be killed by a civilian. You might think it's about jutsu, gen, tai, but probably ninjutsu. Again, wrong, take away the chakra and we'd all be a bunch of idiots in the elemental nation's biggest game of charades, waving about our fingers and hands like maniacs.
No, this story is about chakra, that mystical ever-present energy that surrounds and permeates every detail of my life and every shinobi's life for countless miles in every direction. I feel the soft touch of chakra on my skin, as the air is heavy with it from a day of training. I feel the insufferable itch of chakra on the soles of my feet, as it flows outward to keep me from falling into the lake below. I feel it through my chakra network, life-blood coursing through my veins, rushing and twirling beautifully. It's moved by an unseeable force that defines me as a shinobi. But most of all, I feel the chakra in my hands, in the bend of my wrists, in the flat of my palms, up through my fingers and right to their tips. As my hands move, as they've been trained to do all my life, I feel that chakra change.
"Inu" (Dog). Water. As I lay my left hand flat over a fist the chakra in my body stills, it morphs to my primary affinity, water. The chakra slows, almost liquefies, and begins to flow. Not the constant push of standard chakra, but a swirling, coursing energy.
"U" (Hare). Shape. As I cross my pointed fingers the chakra is pushed, molded, it's ready to be guided by my jutsu.
"Tatsu" (Dragon). Beast. As my fingers and thumbs cross, the molding chakra is given feeling, beast. I think of the ancient dragons, powerful, terrible creatures, that my grandmother used to tell stories of. Long serpentine bodies, meter long teeth, eyes that glow like the pits of hell.
Last one, "Uma" (Horse). Force. Speed. As my hands come together, the chakra is given velocity. It rushes and turns unlike before. This is power. I can feel it now, the chakra speaks to me, that link between jutsu and shinobi, and I just somehow know that it's ready. I know that I am in control, after all, I made the signs and command the chakra, but now, it's hard to tell. The chakra beckons to me, begging to be unleashed, every second in my system now it squirms to be freed. The words come to my mouth without even thinking them. The chakra knows just how my lips should move, how my voice should sound when I call it forth.
"SUITON: MIZURYU NO JUTSU" (WATER STYLE: WATER DRAGON JUTSU). My eyes snap open. The feeling penetrates me. It's in my bones and heart, it's in the air, the water, and the earth. That energy that makes up my every being is changing. It flies forward, normal to water chakra, ready to be shaped, twisted to my draconic imagination, and launched like a horse from the gate. My feet threaten to fail me; my chakra's grip on the water beneath is troubled by a rumbling disturbance. I feel the drain, the fatigue, as my remaining energy leaves me into the water below. Sweat pours over my bare forehead and my breath gets caught, this is nearly all my chakra. Across the lake, my grandmother, Tsunade-baasan (grandmother) prepares herself with a smirk. Her forehead too is wet with strain.
My effort is rewarded. Before me rises of spiraling dragon many times my height, its body is the water of the lake given soul and purpose by the shapes of my fingers. The construct roars, deep, and loud, shaking me to the core, but maybe just because I am so close. It shoots forward, teeth a meter long, eyes glowing like the pits of hell. It shoots forward with anger, with malice, an animal. I've done it. Weeks spent pouring over scrolls and suicidal practice has brought this beautiful moment from my mind into reality.
Then, in an instant, it explodes. Evaporates to mist.
The water falls back to the lake, no longer a beast from some Neptune hell, just water and a few unlucky fish caught in the mix. The mist clears, and grandmother is standing in a careless follow through. Her arm and fist are fully extended and pale blond hair covers her face from view. Her fist is glowing with power. Her jutsu is this powerful. My strongest technique, destroyed, and I'm pretty sure that's just water, not sweat on her forehead. On empty, I collapse to my knees and fall into the lake.
Chakra, it's a funny thing.
That day comes back to me, from a lifetime ago, when I cast the Water Dragon Jutsu the first time. I suppose that was the day it all really began.
My name is Senju Akarama, the Rokudaime (6th) Hokage of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Or at least I was, for one week. Now, I'm a has been. Sure, when I walk through the Konoha's marketplaces, knees creaking and back aching some don't just see a cripple with a knotted wood cane. The few bow their heads, respectfully, a murmured "Rokudaime-sama" or two. I suppose more would recognize me if I still wore my cloak. It's hanging in the closet, white with midnight blue 6th Hokage down the back. I used to fucking love that thing, for all the good it did.
I remember the day of my inauguration; it was a cool September morning. The cherry blossoms blew through the air, over a cheering crowd of shinobi. I was different then, young and naïve, more a fool than a man ready to be Hokage. Black hair, my hair used to be black, crazy, its sheer white now. Tougher, stronger, I wore my battle armor, I was a wartime Hokage. On my shoulder, the Uzumaki spiral, on my forehead, the Konoha leaf headband, across my upper back, the Senju emblem, and down my spine, my bingo book nickname. Back then it read: Senju Akarama / S-rank / Elite jonin of Konohagakure / Alias: "Arashi no Umi." The Sea at Storm, I can't believe they used to call me that, I thought it was so badass. I know, nothing subtle about it, I was arrogant, young, naïve and arrogant, in no way ready for that office.
That day was one of restless tranquility. The Fourth Great Shinobi War was just ending, or so we thought. Tsunade-baasan had enough, she was finally feeling all those years she had tried to cover up. She was tired. Tired and dying. We stood across from one another, she was crying. Told me I was ready, had proved myself. She took off the hat and lowered it on my head. The village watched.
We were two fools, her and I, two fools and a village that didn't deserve us. That day was the last Konoha cheered for Godaime-sama, and the second last Konoha cheered for their precious Rokudaime.
I should have never stepped foot in this village
I should have never put on the hat.
End of Chapter 1
Author's Note: Thank you for reading the first chapter of The Age of Ninjutsu. Please review and tell me what you think!