The wind outside was blustery as usual, carrying its lover, the sand, within it in a romantic and swirling dance, threatening anyone who dared interrupt such a beautiful dance. This was the night where all things slept calmly in their beds, hoping the wind would soothe itself soon. The stars and the moon that wished so badly to be praised and loved by the eyes of whoever whished to watch, were hidden behind the veil that the sand set across it. It had become a night of hatred for all things. It was night of death. All power held in the malice of nature, and this village that sat defiantly within its deadly grip.
It was called the sand village, and rightly named so. It was the domain of many furious and strong ninja, the dwelling of rich feudal lords, and the home of its people within. And on this night, against the howls of the wind, cried the screams of new life on night of death. A mother lay in her hospital bed, pained with the recurrent contractions of the birth that lay just in her future. Fever burned at her body and muscles spasmed violently at her abdomen. Her black hair was strewn about and glued to her body that was drenched in sweat.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
"Mrs. Asudo! Please calm down!"
"Please! You're going to hurt the baby if you don't stop and give birth now!"
All of the nurses and doctors in the room stood, panicking, and hoping for a way to make her stop holding the baby in and give birth. If not she could kill it. It would die of lack of oxygen if she continued like this. She had been forcing herself into it for over an hour now.
"NO!" She screamed out defiantly to the persistent people. I promised him he would watch his daughter be born! I must hold on, just hold on. Hold on!
"Move! MOVE!"
The command was directed at the people in his way, all of them rushing around because of the woman who refused to give birth. He was late and he knew it. And he hated himself for it almost. His child was being born and he was late. If only Kazekage-sama hadn't ordered him out on such a long mission. If only he weren't a ninja to begin with he would have never of been late.
"Tadayuri!" he yelled desperately searching for his wife.
"SAGI!!!" Came the tormented and pained reply.
It came from ahead. Two doors or so. He ran as fast as he could force him to until he found the room that had been crowded by an enormous amount of staff, begging and pleading for the patient to give birth. He pushed and squeezed forcefully and made his way to the bed. He almost wanted to die when he saw how pained his wife was. She had been in labor for so long, he could tell. He reached out for her hand. She was burning alive.
"Tadayuri! I'm here," he said to her softly.
"The baby! Its coming!" yelled the doctor as he sat down before the woman to help direct her first child birth. "Push now!" He instructed.
Tadayuri mustered the strength she could and pushed with all she had. Her baby, her daughter, now she could come; now her father could see her, and he would love her, even if she was not a son. He would love her. She had promised, and she had struggled so hard for her baby, and for her husband. Yes, he would look past her baby's sex, and love her anyway.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" She screamed as the infant came forth from her birth canal, and was silent.
The doctor worked with quick hands to separate the umbilical form the baby and mother. There was something wrong with the baby and that was more than to be expected after what the mother had done.
"Tadayuri!!!! Tadayuri! TADAYURI WAKE UP!" Suddenly, like a swarm of bees the room became even more of a hell like swirl of chaos as the staff began to try and revive the almost dead Tadayuri, while at the same time another team of staff worked to preserve the life of the baby.
My baby… please… love my baby.
"Where is she?! Where is Tadayuri?!" demanded Sagi as the doctors came out of the room where they had taken her too.
As soon as the baby had passed the doctors took it away, and Tadayuri passed out. He had become so enraged that several other ninja's were asked to restrain him from destroying the hospital. One of the ninja's stood and set out his arm as a reminder not to harm the doctors, and that he was there to stop him should the need arise.
"Tadayuri is fine. She is extremely over exerted. Her chakra dropped to dangerous level. We think what she did was she gave an enormous amount to the baby in order to keep it alive. That connection was severed when we cut the umbilical cord. All she needs is rest, but she is in a very delicate condition and can have no visitors until we are sure that her chakra has stabilized and been rehabilitated," the doctor explained in a monotone voice that helped to ease Sagi's anger.
Sagi sighed with relief. He had not lost his wife. He had not lost the love of his life. Perhaps this deadly night was being merciful to him.
"And the baby? Is it okay?"
"Yes, she is fine. We were able to start her breathing and she's very healthy…"
"Thank you so much doctor I…"
But his joy was cut short as the doctor raised his hand and turned his face to stone as if he had bad news. Sagi's face dropped and turned white as the doctor took a deep breath before getting ready to tell him what was wrong. That breath seemed to last ages. He began to think that the doctor in his white smock was torturing him. In fact he was so wrapped up in himself, he hadn't even cared that the baby was a girl.
"…there is one thing though. On her back, she has a very large black bruise. We have tried everything, but it will not go away, in fact we believe it will be with her for the rest of her life. We just don't know what it really is right now, and whether or not it is a danger to her health."
Sagi swallowed the knot in his throat and stood silent for a moment. Now everything was coming to him in torrents of rage and pieces of thoughts that were only ragged bitts not fit to think through thoroughly. Tadayuri had suffered so much, for a lowly female and imperfect child. One that nearly stole her life. What was the point in keeping it then? His mind became full of dark thoughts then. But he masked his feelings, and put them underneath his thoughts for now, he would wait until he had the right moment.
"May I see my daughter?" He asked.
The doctor nodded and called a nurse to him, directing her to take Sagi to his baby.
He followed the nurse, no longer with an escort ninja, he had cooled his anger it seemed for now, along with the night and the hospital. Death seemed to have waned its terrible grip for the moment, it had decided it could not take any blood now, it had decided it would wait, and wait until it could, patiently and silently until its claws could ravish the souls of the land and living.
The nurse led him through a narrow white hallway into a room that had a long glass window in it. He could see the tiny baby girl lying in her tray of a bed, wrapped in a warm blanket and all clean from her birth. He could see the evidence of a birth mark around her eyes. The black lines were very prominent. If this child had been a son he would have made a good ninja, greater then his own father.
As he stepped into the warm atmosphere of the room the nurse went to the tray of a bed and carefully lifted the baby into his arms. She made typical baby sounds as she was passed around form one to another so lovingly. He held her with all intention of protecting her from any harm. But it only lasted for a second. This monster of a child had nearly killed her mother, and cost him the love of his life. He nearly wanted to dash out her brains right then, but the voice of the nurse called his thoughts away from his anger.
"Mr. Sagi sir, forgive me but I must take down all of the baby's information for the hospital records. All I need is a name for her sir. Do you have a name for her?"
"Yes, yes I do," he replied, a smile on his face.
"Oh! Well then! May I have it?" The nurse asked happily getting her pen ready to write.
"Yes you may…" he paused, a twisted smile on his face," her name is Asudo, Satsu."
The nurse froze and dropped her pen. He had chosen such a horrid name to bestow on the girl.
"Sir I…"
"Her name is Satsu. Kill. Her name is Kill. Satsu," he said as he walked out of the room with is daughter in his arms.
No one tried to stop him, no one even noticed as he walked by. Because he had used an illusionary jutsu, so to everyone else, it seemed that he was not even walking past their bodies. It felt good to be in control of everyone else's senses. It felt good to know that no one would ever know that he had taken the baby at all. It was that indescribable pleasure that he got form this sort of thing. That only a truly disgusting man could gain pleasure form at all. And he was, he was truly detestable.
Under his mask of kindness and good heartedness was deeply sickening man who loved being the puppeteer, and making the story run his way. He was even more the puppeteer as he controlled the fate of this young and new born child in his hands as he walked, and it empowered even more, as he stepped outside into the calm night that had just earlier been so vicious and tormenting to him. A fresh coat of sand layered thick over everything gave him an advantage. It would be easier to cover his tracks now.
He walked slowly as he headed towards the edge of the village, the small and tiny baby squirming in his arms as if she could feel and understand his murderous intent. He looked down angrily at the baby. The squished and fat looking face seemed angry at him back. He liked this baby; it reminded him so much of himself even at a young age. But still, this baby was female, she could not become an heir to his family, she was useless, and what was even worse. She was almost the cause of his beloved wife's death. However, what topped the whole list was that she wasn't even a perfect baby; he might have consented to keeping if she was… but she wasn't.
It intrigued him and his dark thoughts to know what exactly this black mark looked like. So he slowly began to unravel the soft protection of the baby blanket to reveal her fresh skin to the air. As soon as the blanket was removed and she was uncovered except for her diaper and beanie, he turned her over to get a look for himself. He stopped walking as soon as his eyes hit it. It covered nearly all of her back except a small portion at the base of her neck. But that was not what was most disturbing.
The mark seemed to be flowing, like a constant river of black ink. It was frightening to see it. Touching it was out of the question he didn't want to know what would happen if he did. He wouldn't be surprised if it killed him. Sagi bent down and grabbed at a handful of sand. As he rose he poured the sand on the mark. It absorbed the sand violently and black smoke rose from it. The smell of burning rock and earth rose in it… but the mark had not harmed any of the doctors or the blanket.
It was conscious of itself. He could not believe it. It knew when a threat was present, and it would kill any threat that touched it blindly. A smirk grew across his face. This baby, even if it was a lowly murderous thing… would live. He knew it, even if he tried to kill it. Sagi was a sick and terrible man, but he was by no circumstances a stupid one.
"Hm… a demon that doesn't even know it is one. You will grow up a terrible thing, tormented by what you are… and one day you will find out where you came from and kill me. I know you will. I hope you do. By then ill get to see exactly what's inside you. I will probably be old or maybe even dead by then. Satsu… you are truly my daughter," he laughed cynically as the said it.
After all, no one could hear him, so why not? Why not tell the whole world that he was cruel and he wanted to see this murderous child suffer so that she too would become cruel like him? The question ran through his devious mind so many times he began to form his own answer to it. Because cruelty is what makes the Earth turn. One evil deed made a good one come too. Cruelty makes the Earth turn … so why not make it spin a few extra times to make sure it was safe. Sagi looked up at where he was.
The edge of the village. Yes, he would leave this baby on the outside of it, free for the taking. The mark would take care of the baby. He knew that much. It would make sure the baby lived and grew up to kill all of its threats. As he made his way he wrapped the blanket back around the baby. It would be fine from here on. He would be fine. He would go back to the hospital and dispel the illusionary jutsu and then become angry and mad that his baby was missing. No one would ever know what he had done to Satsu.
"I will see you again Satsu, don't forget that I am your father, and I am the one who did this to you. Good bye for know, my daughter," he said gently, and then kissed her forehead and laid her down on the ground.
The wind picked up again as he turned his back and walked away. It asked its lover the sand to dance with it again and they took up their deadly steps as the hid away any evidence that Sagi had ever been there with the baby Satsu. The moon and the stars that had held everyone's gaze was now veiled once again in the lover's shadow, and could offer no comfort to Satsu. She was now all alone. Only one friend to protect her. Her black bruise that waited and waited, for kind hands to release its burden of protecting her.
The forest was quite now, except for he rustling of the leaves and the calls of the animal life all abut them. They were safe here, for the time being. This would be their winter home for now, where the Thread Tribes were too far to reach them, and the Wood Tribes were close enough to send help should the need arise. The Ink tribes had good ties with the Wood, but with the Thread, it seemed to be a bloody warfare that never ended, and each year, there were less and less ninja to protect them. Little by little the threat of the Thread was growing. And soon their numbers would be too great to stop them.
The forest held little solace for all of its peace. This winter dwelling would only be temporary, and then the tribe would be forced to move again for need of food, to the open valley where the Thread could attack at will. It was like a buffet and the Thread could have all they could eat. And right now everyone hoped their bellies were full for now. This would be the time to let the food digest, and the time to sleep. While the giant slept, the Ink would gather up its strength.
One Ink ninja was going to make sure her people would grow strong. Her name was Ukimae, and she was the protector of the secret of the Ink Tribes that the Thread wanted so badly. She was the hopes of all of her people, though she herself did not lead them, she was what held then together. Now as the winter winds blew softly, Ukimae sat in the tree tops, grateful for the evergreen needles that hid her so well. From here she could see so well, and at the same time could not be seen.
With winter Ukimae had put her over coat on. It didn't seem as if it would be so cold for a place where the sun shown everyday, but nonetheless the air was cold enough for breath to seem as smoke. All was quite. She hoped it would remain that way. Ukimae did not want to admit it, but she was tired and she was going to lose everything if she wasn't allowed to rest and regain her strength. Constant use of her chakra throughout the entire journey to this place had wiped her clean of anything she had left.
"Ukimae-sama," called a voice from down bellow.
Ukimae looked down to see her apprentice Genji. He was a strong boy and he had the potential to take on her responsibility of guarding the True Ink, the heart of the Ink Tribes, one day.
"Genji… what are you doing here? You should be with the others at camp?' she said, jumping down from her place in the trees.
"U-ki-mae-sama…the camp…"
"GENJI!"
Genji fell to the ground, Ukimae understood now why he was so choppy in his movements… and why he had come to her. Now as he lay, she could see a shuriken buried deeply into his back… no doubt it had broken through the ribs and into the lungs or heart. It was amazing he had even gotten this far before dying, but in his last breath she hoped that Genji had saved the Ink people. She didn't have to check if he was dead, she could tell he had simply by looking at him, but she had no time for remorse now. Now her people needed her most. Genji had done his job, and not it was time for her to do her own.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
"UKIMAE!!! HELP US!!!"
"KILL THEM ALL! LET NO ONE LIVE!!!"
The cries rumbled through the forest and she had no choice. She formed the seals and transported herself to the camp. It was chaos. People running everywhere from what looked like more than 200 Thread tribe warriors and ninja combined. She threw her coat to the ground and opened her body to the bracing cold. It would fuel her and keep her numb as well. So she could keep fighting even if she was injured.
Ten paper talismans flew from her hands, and on each she rapidly wrote down the name of the jutsu she was going to make. It was amazing to watch a calligrapher put out her talismans in such a rapid fire speed. Within seconds the talismans were speeding to each end of the camp.
"Enemy of the Ink Extraction no Jutsu!" She yelled.
Suddenly every Thread warrior was thrown away from the camp and just outside of it. Once it was clear she began to walk towards the front of the camp where her hungry enemies awaited her. They where foolish to think the true Ink would serve them. Once the true Ink left the hands of an Ink Tribe people… all of its power dies. They had tried to explain this before, but the Thread where too unwilling to listen and thought them to be lying.
Ukimae looked at everyone cowering around her. The bodies of what little ninja they had were dead, either by loss of too much chakra, or a deadly weapon had been plunged into them. There were only three left. Three ninja, the most powerful and respected warriors of any nomadic tribe, it was disgraceful. Still she could not blame them for being so weak. They had been fighting hard for so long. She drew out three more talismans on each one of them was a portion of her chakra.
Ukimae handed one to each of them. Each of them stared at her as soon as they read the talismans.
"Ukimae-sama…but this…" one of them began, but Ukimae raised her hand as a motion for his silence.
She wasn't in the mood for protest.
"Even I may fail. I want you to take my chakra, and use it. The people will fall to you after me," she said, and then turned to leave without any other words.
"Ukimae-sama," the ninja whispered as she walked. He noticed the talisman began to glow and he could feel the chakra go into his body.
The other two ninja came to his side and watched as Ukimae walked off to the front of the camp to face her enemy. Or in this case, enemies. Each of them ten times as angry as before for being so contained for so long. But it would be over soon, their detainment… the trap didn't last very long. She had never been forced to use this jutsu in her entire life, she had hoped for many reasons that she never would have to… but the occasion seemed to call for more than she wanted.
As she came into view all of the faces twisted into dark and sinister grimaces that held no heart for her beauty. Nor for her bravery and last standing strength as she walked towards them. They stood there like dogs, foaming at the mouth and growling hungrily for the taste of blood, the rush of victory. Lately it had become addicting to the Thread tribes. The knowledge that they had been able to push the Ink this far into the valley boosted their egos all to well.
"Kage bunshin no jutsu!" Ukimae cried as she formed the seals forcefully.
Immediately, 99 replications of herself appeared. It would mean two for everyone of her. The odds were fair considering her skill versus their own. Even so… she was weak, and they would all be weak so it would be harder.
"You can't hide from us Ukimae of the Ink. We know you are weak!" yelled one of the men.
From the looks of him he was obviously the leader of the entire attack. He warriors dress was more delicately woven than any of the other Thread Tribe warriors. And the simple ring on his back was a symbol of his family. He was a nobleman of the tribe. Now that she had thought about it she knew who he was. He was the current Prince of the main Thread Tribe. He was going to be the next king. If she could kill him the Thread would become weak, he was the only thread heir. She had no choice… the prince would have to die.
"I am the guardian of the True Ink… you will not get by me this night… or any night for as long as I live!" Was her defiant reply.
"You heard Ukimae-sama! Get everyone out of here!" The ninja yelled at the other two.
Koriko was not the type of man to disobey his orders… and if Ukimae-sama wanted them to guard their people he would follow her will as best he could. That was all he could give. She had already given him a portion of her chakra… and the other two as well, that meant she couldn't have very much left for herself. In his heart he had to admit that he would not have the heart to face 200 Thread enemies alone like she did. Ukimae-sama was one of a kind. She knew things and did things that know one else would dare do.
One man stood in protest to the orders of the three ninja. He was an elderly man with a beard that was so long he had braided it to keep it from tangling as it fell down to his knees. On his face where several tattoos to show his rank and title. He was the leader of the Ink Tribes. The Grand Master Calligrapher. No other brush but Ukimae's could match his own skill. This was a thing to be proud of. He showed it as he stood.
"Grand Master Calligrapher! You must go with the people… they will need your guidance in this time the most," said Koriko, his head bowed in respect as he spoke to the man.
"Koriko…I am the leader of this tribe, of all Ink peoples. You will not order me in any way. I am going to watch the last stand of Ukimae. Because it will be my duty to record her last night in this world," he said grimly as he walked past Koriko and the two other ninja.
There was a look of shock mixed with sadness on Koriko's face as the Grand Master walked past them and forward to the fight. How could he say that this was Ukimae-sama's last night in this world? How could he have so little faith in her? He thought as he watched the old man disappear.
"Koriko, we must get the people away from here as quickly as possible," said on the other ninja.
Koriko took one last look at the shambled camp. He would miss her. She was a good teacher… and a wonderful woman whom he had hoped to marry. That would never happen now. If the Grand Master had said it…. It was without any doubt true. Ukimae-sama would die tonight…. and she would die protecting her people. Koriko prayed that she would win though. For all she had done for this tribe he wished the heavens would smile on her with its graces on her in this moment, and give her the strength to fight.
As he sat in the trees and watched… Ukimae struggled. One by one her replications were being killed and poofing away like the smoke from a fire; it was there and gone in a moment. Luckily for her they at least took one of her enemies with them before they died. She had never known the thread to be as ruthless as this. Something had changed in them this night that wasn't there before. Their eyes seemed red with fury when she looked into them. It wasn't human to have red eyes.
But finally she was all that was left… and she had barely enough chakra to breath. There was nothing left in her but she knew she still had to fight. Her duty was not done yet. And as she stood in the middle of 100 Thread warriors and ninjas… one last thought came to her mind. The last resort she and no other guardian had ever had to use before now. The True Ink that was hanging from her belt.
It looked only to be a simple wood Ink pot, but if one looked closely they would see the kanji for "Poison" clearly printed by the first Grand Master Calligrapher. It was he who had put so much chakra into the ink that it became aware of its self and took on an intoxicating state. It was the very life source of the Ink people… and the death of everything. If touched or absorbed through the skin or taken into the body in some way it would mean certain death. It was even able to replenish itself in the Ink pot if it ever ran out.
But for an Ink people…. It would grant an enormous amount of chakra to that person if drank for a short while… and in return… that person would give its blood and life to the True Ink. It was a deadly and complex idol… but because of this it had to be protected as well as other had to be protected from it and it deadly ways. There was no other way to go about and that was why there where Ninja like Ukimae who where born and trained to be its protector and with it they became the pillar of the Ink Tribes.
Ink… grant me your power to protect your people. Give me your chakra to give my people life and a future. Please do as I ask… and I will become your slave forever more.
The old man sat stunned as he watched Ukimae bring the Ink Pot to her lips and drink from it. Almost at once he could see the chakra glowing from her body… waiting to be used to kill. As if she were the plague the men backed away from her. An imaginary hook seemed to pick her up from the collar of her mini kimono top. Suddenly her face rose to meet them as well. She looked as if the devil himself had taken her body over.
Her eyes were completely black as if the ink had filled her body. And it made it all the more frightening to look at her now. The dull black chakra that glowed from her body was menacing with rage… everyone there could feel it. Even the Earth seemed unsteady under her feet out of discomfort.
"My people will not suffer any longer. I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!!" She yelled.
As she spoke the black Ink spilled from the corners of her mouth. The Grand Master knew now… what she had done. She had given her soul to the True Ink… it had mixed with her blood, which was why it spilled from her mouth, and it seemed her tears as well were black. His own tears welled and fell from his eyes down his aged face and into his braided beard. She had given her soul to the True Ink to save her people… she was going to die because she loved her people. They would idolize her forever… her name would hold a great ledged within the Ink Tribes. Even if she would have no rest in heavens… they would shine for her sacrifice; they would honor her deed forever.
However… there would be a great sorrow in the people's hearts when it came time for her to take her last breath. For months they had relied on her strength for hope. The entire Ink race had followed her rather than the Grand Master himself, because he himself admitted he had no hope left. Now as he watched he felt guilty for not having as much courage as she did. As she killed one man and then another and another continuously he sat and waited for her to die so he could tell her story, how useless he seemed to be, but he knew if he went to fight, he would die as well.
"There's no one left now except me Ukimae," said a gruff and tired man as he stood proudly before her.
The Grand Master recognized him as the soon to be Weaving King for the Thread tribes. He was the only son. There was no doubt in his mind… that this prince would die; Ukimae would not allow him to return. She just stood for a moment, catching her breath. Blood had doused her from head to toe, she had no mercy for those mean, and had ripped out as many hearts as she could with her own hands.
"You will die Prince of the Thread, and you will leave your people weak and it will free my people from you menacing weavers! The Ink will flourish with your death! Be happy in that knowledge!" she yelled as she made her way to him.
He was waiting, expecting any move she could possibly make. But he was not expecting her to disappear. He froze with fear when he could not see her and suddenly froze when he felt the slippery arms take hold of him from behind and bring a kunai knife to his throat. The cold steel itself seemed to want to suck all the life out of him without slitting his throat.
"My people will destroy yours," he said angrily as she moved the knife across his throat and he fell to the ground dead.
"Your people will not rise for anther 500 years, and when they do… I will return to protect the Ink again," she said as she looked up at the sky.
The sun had risen and light touches of pinks and oranges were etching through the sky.
I am done.
With that Ukimae fell to the ground and died. Her body covered in blood that was not her own, and still leaking the tears of black ink. The Grand Master bowed his head in a sign of respect and held his silence, as did the rest of the forest. The woman known as Ukimae, had shocked the whole world this day with her death, the Earth would never forget it.
Every Ink Tribe people stood there this night. All of them surrounding an altar that had been built especially for Ukimae, and her cremation. Not one child had been left at home, everyone mourned her death, and they would forever. She had died so valiantly in their minds. The Grand Master spared no details as he told the story of Ukimae's last night on Earth. Her last steps in the Hidden Valley. 2,000 heads bowed in respect as Koriko carried the torch that would send her ashes into the wind, up to the top of the stone alter.
The Grand Master had said that she would return. 500 years from now. He would be dead by then. As he took each step he remembered everyday that he grew up with her. He remembered when he and Ukimae fought each other because she said she could knock him out cold, and she did. Even the time when she kissed his cheek for bringing her a birthday present. Koriko was going to marry her. He couldn't now, he wouldn't now.
The wind blew harder as he brought the flaming torch closer to her body. It had taken 4 hours to rid her skin of the blood, and it was painful to dress her in white burial clothes. These were the words of her sister Uri to Koriko. The sun gleamed on the silver ring at the base of her braid. For a minute it blinded him and he froze for a second. Like she was telling him she wasn't really dead. Not alive in the flesh anymore but still around him in sprit. The feeling, however, could not last forever, and it faded and he continued his solemn walk. He wished something else would stop him. For a moment longer he could hold onto her, if only something more would stop him.
Time did not withhold its ravenous greed to continue on. Its current was too strong anyway even if it wanted to stop. So Koriko walked up to the body, and before he himself faltered and could refuse to, he threw the torch into the oil soaked wood and stood there as her watched Ukimae, burn away.
You promised Ukimae… don't forget that. My descendants will be waiting to be at your side. I promise that. Koriko thought as he watched her ashes begin to whisk about the air.
500 years later…………………
A young and newly made Master Calligrapher stood tall and bravely against the purple night sky. The sun had only just got down and was begging not to be put to bed so early. However, the mother night had finally won her way, and her son reluctantly trudged to bed. He enjoyed watching the sun. When it rose, and when it fell. It meant he was a day closer to finding Ukimae the Guardian of Hopes. It was his generation that she was foretold to come back in. Tonight would be exactly 500 years from her death. It was a night where all mother's to be, were hoping one thing. That Ukimae was their child.
He had only been Master Calligrapher for one week, and he could not have been happier of this. Every woman who was due to give birth was brought to stay with him in his luxurious dwelling. They would each be treated whit the greatest of respect, and handled with the most delicate hand. It had been the last Master Calligrapher's last wish, and yet, one thought always seemed to plague his young mind. What if, Ukimae where to be born outside of this tribe? What action should he take the? It would be nearly impossible to tell which baby was the one they needed in this world. After so many years, it had grown too big for even the nomads to handle, and that was only 500 years ago.
They had learned only little bitts of the outside world from Kiba-kun, and he had left nearly a few days ago. No one in the Ink tribe blamed him for leaving. He had lost his wife to a Thread raid. It would only make sense he would want to protect his son by taking him away. If the Thread had raided now, it would mean they were growing strong again, just as Ukimae had said they would. So many questions, so many thoughts all were crushing away his patience. He needed guidance. No Master Calligrapher would admit to being lost. However, Ukimae was a mystery, no one knew for sure, they had only assumed. Assumptions led to deadly faults. Death was not something the Ink Tribes could afford.
Though they had grown over the 500 years Ukimae had promised them, they had not strengthened too well. Less and less were taking on the Ninja way. Even through encouragement from Ninja's and Master Calligrapher's no one would be brave. Ukimae had most likely known this would happen, that's why she promised her return. Perhaps in her last moments, she had seen the future, since she spoke so clearly to the Thread Prince before she killed him. Everyone in the Ink Tribes knew her words; they had been passed on for ages since her death.
"Your people will not rise for anther 500 years, and when they do… I will return to protect the Ink again."
His brow narrowed into a grimace of determination. He would not fail. Ukimae would return, and he would do everything within his power to gain her back. The Ink people needed her. She knew that when she died, and so did each and every heart that lived and was born an Ink people. Ukimae was named the Guardian of Hopes after her death, and she still was after all these years. No one had found her courage and strength to guard their own. Perhaps that was why she was returning as well. To teach the Ink to be strong.
The flurry of his fine woven garments trailed behind him as he walked rigidly to the camp. Where better to get answers than from Ukimae herself. She had been dead for these years, but there was a rumor that when the people truly needed her, she would appear before them at her Alter where she had been burned. Even if it was in Wood territory, the Ink and Wood had an alliance that allowed the Ink to use their forest as their winter grounds, while the Wood gained the use of one calligrapher from the Ink to record and write down histories and important information for the Wood Tribes record's.
A calligrapher was something only the Ink had in the Hidden Valley of the Nomads. It was something all the other tribes wanted. The Thread wanted the use of their ink making skills for creating dyes for their fine fabrics, the people of the Clay for their brush skills to paint their pottery, the people of the Metal to be able to inscribe their works, the people of the Stone to color their Stone. Only the Wood has been able to even bring a calligrapher within their boundaries. Even then the calligrapher is special. They follow ways so that no Wood cannot steal the precious art that the Ink hold at the very center of their hearts.
Likewise the Wood were careful never to let the Ink calligrapher see their own precious wood working skills. This was the way of the artisan nomads, their arts were sacred, and almost their religion, in fact one could say it was. As the world grew, so did their skills, but as it began to grow too big the world demanded that the secrets of the artisan nomad's be revealed. So the Nomads fled into the Hidden Valley, and never returned. History kept them in small and lost fragment; the people of the world forgot them. They became a rare artifact.
The Nomad Tribes did not long for the outside world either, which was in very many ways a great thing for the tribes. It left them to be as they always were, their own people untouched and unscathed by any outsider. Above all they could keep their own art as precious as it always was. The only outsider anyone had ever come across in years was one drunk and mistaken ninja who went by the name of Kiba and eventually became part of the Ink by marriage.
The Master Calligrapher found himself quickly shoving off his expensive garments and shoving on some old and travel worn clothes. He was quick to find thought that he had been discovered in his intentions to leave. A flustered and breathless young woman by the name of Chiako bumbled in as he put on a light over coat that hung at his ankles. She was had been and advisor to the Master Calligrapher for the last ten years and was now serving him. She blew a long strand of loose brown hair out of her face as she stood tall and brushed herself off to face the Master Calligrapher.
"Zensho-sama!" She said demandingly.
"I don't answer to you Chiako," he replied, as he walked past her and out of his sleeping quarters into his office.
Chiako's brows furrowed out of frustration that he knew she was going to protest against his leaving. Even for a young Master he had been able to out do her several times during this week. Lately he seemed to be pushing for excellence due to the coming of Ukimae-sama, but there was no reason for him to be so hyped up. Three of the four women were in labor now which meant she would be here. This also meant he should be here as well so he himself could present Ukimae to the village. He was key to the entire ceremony and what if the Thread decided to attack as well?
"Zensho-sama, you cannot go now, the babies will be born any moment!" She protested to his actions.
"None of them are Ukimae," he said stiffly, as if he was not going to let anyone change his mind.
He wasn't. He was sure this time. Ukimae-sama was a great ninja, a goddess amongst flies and leeches. She was going to make it difficult for her people; she was going to make them prove their worth. She would be out of character to do otherwise. If the Tread attacked it would also be stupid, currently all of the Ink Tribes had gathered for the birth of Ukimae, their numbers were 20 to one now. Over all it would be a useless attack. His mind was in ten thousand places right now about where Ukimae could be. She would offer guidance though, she would offer sight.
"You can't be…" she began, but before she could finish he had already gone, a simple note left behind in his wake.
Her eyes read the delicate kanji carefully and huffed at its words.
Ukimae-sama, she will not surrender so easily.
The Master Calligrapher set himself at top speed as he headed out into the plains, he would reach the winter grounds in half a day at his speed. Normally it took 3 days to get there, but he had been storing his chakra for a while now, and he could spend a little of it getting to the alter. He was a first among first. The only Master Calligrapher who had given up the life of a ninja, to serve his people. Therefore he knew how to use his chakra well. For nearly a month he had kept it in reserve as a safety net. Now he needed that safety net more than anything, he needed to move quickly.
The world sped past him, trying ferociously to stop him. High grass taller than he blocking his sight, rocks hidden in the path hoping to trip or throw any sorry traveler into the ground, bugs threatening to taste the blood of any living being. Normally this wouldn't have bothered him at all, but it seemed everything was deliberately trying to stop him. As if at anytime a Thread ambush would occur almost, with which the deepest of hopes he wished would not happen, not now of all times.
He would hate to waste any chakra on anything not applied to getting to the alter as fast as his legs could carry him without interruption. The sun had fallen 4 hours ago, he was close to the Alter, and he could feel it. The spiritual energy just seemed to ooze out of the forest where the winter grounds where. However nature would have its way, and he fell to the ground, a rock had grabbed at his foot and held it prisoner until his speed became his enemy and brought him down with a crushing force as his body hit the ground. As he looked at the ground level to his eyes, his mind grew blank and his eyes slowly became shut.
NO! I CANT FAIL! He rebelled to his body.
Who said you would? A commanding voice that rang a clear as a bell called out.
He froze. Who could be here in his mind? Who could but him? Had someone trapped him in a genjutsu?
I would never have come if I thought you were going to fail, the 8th great grandson of Koriko, the Guardian of the Ink after my death?
A woman appeared, dressed in a shortened Kimono that had been cut so that it only covered her chest. She wore the skirt of a calligrapher, a sign that she had mastered the art in great acknowledgement from her elders, held up by a belt of a similar but brighter color. At her waist, tied by a red belt, hung a wooden tube, red kanji imbedded into it. The word for poison. It was the true ink. Her long braids were held in at the ends by heavy silver rings. This was Ukimae. The woman who had been called The Guardian of Hopes. He felt his body bed underneath him and his back bend down so that his forehead touched the ground, bowing in proper respect to her.
Ukimae-sama, forgive me my rudeness, my doubt. He apologized, his voice barley forming proper tones to speak as he was in utter shock that she would come to him, and he hadn't even reached the alter yet.
You are so forgiven Zensho-sama. I give you my blessings; you were the only one who thought to challenge the assumptions. The only who thought to think as I did, as I do. For that I will tell you were my soul lies now. Be fore warned though. This child may have my soul, but her mind and body is her own. Do not treat her as if she were me; raise her as if she were her own. Though she may take to some of my habits and ways, it does not mean she will be my exact copy. Giver her, her own name.
Treat her as if you were her very father. She will live a cursed life always. Her stars are crossed too intricately to read, and her power will be great and excruciating to master. She is the future of both worlds. You will find her all alone, wrapped in the sand. That's where she was born, where she was cursed, in the Sand Village. Go there now Zensho-sama, now!
Zensho could feel his body, pulsing with a magnificent chakra he knew belonged to Ukimae herself. His eyes opened to the level ground. He looked down his body to see the thing that had caught his foot, only to find it was a large and heavy silver ring that had been caught on a rock. The nostalgia of the entire experience came flooding into his head, like a drug it numbed everything in reality and made dreaming almost believable. The ground seemed to be moving, pulling him forward as he slowly rose until he was on all fours, and struggling to reach just his feet.
As if the weight of the world had suddenly been placed on his shoulders he forced himself up, and when he finally stood his mind became tunneled.
RUN!
His feet rose and fell, rose and fell in a fluid pattern that propelled him steadily faster and faster. Momentum was building, inertia was growing, and he couldn't trust his human eyes anymore, they couldn't see past the blur of the world around him, all swirling like a warped piece of lava rock. Its twists and turns seemed like a delicately woven pattern of color that was mesmerizing. He didn't even quite know where he was going, were he was turning, but his feet seemed to just keep pushing, one after the other. They seemed to know.
His breath seemed to just stream into him and flow out in a circular motion, all at once, in through the mouth and out through the nose. One thing he could do, one thing he could know, was what he could feel. The earth turning soft under his feet, the hills became liquid like almost. The desert, he had found his way into the desert. The Sand Village, he could see it. In the dark, it seemed as if the stone walls themselves were out to smash and kill whatever lay outside of it, keeping what was within like a precious treasure, well guarded and prioritized.
And then, he began to slow down. Till he was walking, breathing, and seeing. As he grew closer he could hear it. The cries of a baby, his ears reacted to it, following it precisely, afraid to do anything other than achieve perfection in finding her. The world seemed to get smaller at this moment, as the cries grew sharper, louder, and more desperate. It seemed almost like time had stopped as he wandered in the sands until he could see it. A small bundle, squirming in the sands.
He slowly drooped to his knees, raising the baby into his arms, looking at her face with a simple need growing inside him. He felt pride, as if this really was his baby, his child. This was his daughter. Suddenly he felt as if he had been to rough in picking her up. He softly let his large fingers graze her newly born flesh. It was so soft and warm, like it wasn't even there. Her crying seemed to stop the moment he began to hold her. The pain of being torn away from her warm and comfortable home within her mother seemed trivial now.
Zensho watched with careful eyes as the baby opened her own. He saw the black lines rimming her eye lids; he would have to cover those. He knew no one would accept it. Blue eyes, clearer than the sky, he contrasted them by pulling out a small tube and brush, and with careful and masterful hands he stained her skin red, covering the black lines with a thick red line that ran across her face like a mask. Rising to stand he then whimsically turned his back to the monstrous wall, eating away at the outside to feed the inside, and trudged slowly back towards the valley. He couldn't run with her to protect, and he knew how to water and food in the desert. They would not be back at the camp for another month or so.
The thought of how long it would take, never crossed his mind though. He didn't care if he ever got back. He had his baby now, his daughter. However a thought did come to his mind. What would he name her? Ukimae-sama had told him to give her a name of her own. Zensho played with sounds and parts of Ukimae's name and finally, after many awkward changes he found one that flowed with ease.
"Your name is Ukimii," he said softly, and brushed her forehead with his lips lovingly. She looked up at him with her newborn eyes, and he could have sworn he saw Ukimae-sama smiling at him.
Time to go home.