Your father was decisively boring.
He was a good man, a nice father and a great blacksmith.
But he was boring. Uninteresting. Dull.
People loved your father. He was admired throughout the village. His friendly attitude and ability to listen to anyone's tale with rapt attention made him popular with all ages. Not to mention his seeming incapability to decline a call for help.
Yes. He was a good man.
Your father was nice. His attention to your needs as a child was a rare sight in parents. Had you been any other child, you likely would have been spoiled to death. You realize that was likely his plan. To spoil his cute little daughter rotten, to keep her away from boys as she grew up, to never let her face any hardships. To protect her. It was indeed a shame you were not any other child.
Yes. He was a nice father.
His blacksmithing skills were extraordinary. His attention to detail was precise and the quality of his works were exquisite. It reminded you greatly of the legendary pieces of weaponry and armor created by the children of Hephaestus and Vulcan long ago. Perhaps it was the quality of his materials. Which you had been unable to see yet, but could guess that they were pure and undiluted. Or perhaps it was simply the raw talent that you could discern from your father.
Yes. Your father was a great blacksmith.
But he was boring.
You watched him as he worked. The way he concentrated fully on the item he was making, the gears turning in his head as he constantly thought of ways to improve the quality. How every move he made was calculated and precise. The way he didn't let the sweltering heat bother him even as beads of sweat rolled down his face and body.
You watched him talk with others, as he brought you around the village. Introducing you in a manner that showed just how proud he was to be a father. How he listen to people in a manner that gave them their full undivided attention. The way his face changed with every bit and piece of the story they gave. How their grief was his grief, and their happiness was his happiness.
You watched him interact with you. The surprise he had when he realized that his daughter could fully read and write at such a young age. How you could already keep a level conversation with him. The hesitation that occasionally clouded his actions concerning you. When you thought he wasn't looking, you saw him making a list of souvenirs to bring home on the various business trips he would be making.
The world would be hard pressed to find a person happier and content with their life than your father. He was a man loved by many. A man who loved his wife and daughter and a man who loved his job and the things he's accomplished.
And that was why he was boring.
There was no strive to achieve something amazing in your father, for he had already achieved everything he wanted to. He was a kind, trusting man. A man who, without a doubt, trust a complete stranger with their life.
Your father did not realize that he was ultimately just a small little insect stuck inside the web of a deadly spider.
A deadly spider that would let their prey wander about, with the vision that they were free of restraints and could move about as they wanted.
A spider that your father was deeply in love with.
You watched them interact, the way your mother would smile and the joy that radiated from her. The joy that never could reach her eyes. How your father would always smile back and give her a tender kiss. Pure love that emanated from entire his body.
He never knew that he was just the prey and that she was the predator.
Idly, somewhere in the back of your mind you thought that you should feel some sort of pity to the ignorant man you call your father. But you never could bring yourself to do it.
How could you bring yourself to feel pity for him when you couldn't even feel it for your mother?
Your mother who thought she was the predator, when in reality, she was just prey to someone else.
You were the crow who would swoop down and devour the spider once it's usefulness exhausts.
Your mother made quick work of the promise she gave you. Two weeks after your father returned she woke you up at the crack of dawn to begin.
You didn't question the early morning start of training. It was more than likely to avoid your father finding out and to not have training cut into the time your mother would need to work her normal job.
She brought you to a small clearing nearby the house. The grass was wet with morning dew and the birds chirped loudly to each other. The wind was a gentle breeze that gave you a slight chill despite the warm summer air.
You look to your mother. Her eyes were following your every move.
"Youko." She starts. "Sit down on the grass."
You comply. The moisture remaining on the grass clings to your clothes and feels cold but you pay it no heed. You sit cross legged.
"Close your eyes." She continues.
You do so.
"Now focus. Feel the energy around you."
How vague, you think. But do so.
You focus. Bringing your mind and senses inward before expanding it out. It was an exercise you've done many times in the past.
You inhaled through your nose. You could feel the area around you. How the birds flew from tree to tree and how a squirrel ran up a trunk. You could feel the grass move slightly in the background and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind.
"Ignore the sounds of animals and nature and focus on feeling the energy of the forest."
You inhale once more, bringing your senses in and leaving behind the noises. To you, it was now perfectly silent. The only sound was the soft beat of your own heart. Then you exhaled. Expanding your conscious out of your body and into the forest. You weren't exactly sure what your mother wanted you to feel but-
Your eyes snap open. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your mind whirrs. What was that?
What did you just feel?
More importantly, how?
How did you feel it?
Energy? Natural Energy? That was something you hadn't felt in multiple millennia. Long ago did magic dry up from the ground and exhaust itself from humans. And now, it was back? How? Why?
You had so many questions whirling about in your mind but your mother interrupted your thoughts.
Her gaze was sharp. "You felt it then?"
You move to speak but the words lodged themselves in your throat, refusing to come out.
You nod instead.
"Good. You may have questions but hold off on them until this next part."
You nod once more.
She turns so her back was facing you.
"Do the same as last time but instead search for that same feeling inside of you."
Inside of you? Had humans really been able to replenish their magical reserves in the time between lives? How was that possible?
You had so many questions eating at you, but your mother wouldn't accept any until you finished this task.
You took a deep breath to calm your racing heart and then closed your eyes. Exhaling, you let your senses go outward only to bring them back while inhaling. You held your breath and focused on finding that same feeling inside of you. You didn't have to search long, as you felt a small bubbling warmth around the pit of your stomach. For it to be there the entire time and to not notice it, you had truly become lax.
You opened your eyes.
"I found it." You say.
"Good." She replies.
You lick your dry lips before asking. "What did I find exactly?"
"That." She says. Turning back towards you. "Was what we call, chakra."
Chakra? Your mother was a Buddhist? Did Buddhism reject the notion of magic and instead explained it using chakra? That was the only explanation you could think of. You had wandered the lands of Asia during the founding years of Buddhism and you had not felt anything that connected chakra to magic.
But how?
Magic was the manifestation of living energy that was produced by any living thing. Back then, almost everything produced some sort of magic, but it was the goddess Hecate that blessed humanity with the ability to mold and shape it to an extent.
There wasn't a way you could foresee that accounted for both the return of magic and the explanation of chakra. By the time chakra had become a prominent idea in Hinduism and Buddhism, magic had long since dried up.
"You look like you're deep in thought, little one."
Your mother breaks you out of your thoughts. Walking over to you, she sits down on a patch of grass near you in a manner identical to yours.
"Would you care to share? Perhaps I can help." She says.
You glance at your mother. Then nod. Additional information could always be useful.
"What is chakra?" You ask.
"Chakra." She begins. "Is a mix between spiritual and physical energy and is found within every living person."
"Person? Do animals not produce chakra?" You inquire.
Your mother shakes her head. "No. Only people produce chakra."
"Then what about the chakra that I felt in the forest?"
"That is natural chakra, or nature energy as it is called." She frowns. "Not much is known about it besides that it's produced naturally by the planet and atmosphere."
"Hence the name." You say.
She nods.
"What about the origins of chakra? How long have humans been able to produce it?" You continue.
"That is…" She stops. "For as long as written history has been around, chakra has always been there. Its origins are unknown but it's generally agreed that it's just always been apart of us."
That was different. The implications that all this new information you gained did not sit well with you. The only theory regarding the return of magic and presence of chakra was just thrown out the window now that it's been established that magic and chakra were two very different things.
Perhaps you needed to look at this from a new perspective.
But first, you needed one last bit of information.
"Mother, what year is it?"
She raised an eyebrow but answered anyway. "It has been over half a century since the end of the warring states period."
Warring states? What? That was in the-
"And 49 years since the establishment of hidden villages." She finishes.
You freeze. Hidden villages? That was impossible.
"Mother." You start. An unfamiliar emotion crept up your throat. "What country do we currently live in?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Youko-"
"Please. You interject. "Please just answer this."
She was silent for a moment before saying. "We currently live in Hi no Kuni. The land of fire."
Ah. So that's what happened. You weren't born into the past, or even born into the distant future. You were born into another world.
You could feel a dark chuckle threatening to escape your throat. A sickly sweet grin was forming on your face.
You wanted to laugh, to cry, to run about and slaughter the fools of this world.
This world. The world that was previously nothing more than a way to pass time, was now reality. A world that you now held at your beck and call. All because you had information.
If knowledge was power, then knowing the future was akin to divinity.
Konoha was a place that rivaled the density and traffic of New York but also held the homeliness of a small village on the mountainside.
It was a surprising notion, to say the least. The last time you've seen a place similar to Konoha was perhaps the early days of Rome, when the city focused less on politics and succession and more about each other.
The trip to Konoha was one that spanned around three day by carriage. The only other passenger was a young man somewhere in his late teens.
You watched a middle aged woman walk down the street. People would greet her with a smile, much akin to how your village did with your parents. But in Konoha they would repeat this action for nearly everyone else who walked down that street.
It seemed as if, despite the large size of the village, everyone knew everyone.
Your mother had wanted to pick up a specific brand of fabric that was only sold here. As such, she brought you along.
You gazed at your mother. The way she moved through the village with ease, how she never once stopped or hesitated in where she needed to go. Some people would have ignored this detail. You however, knew that it indicated several things.
Your mother either frequently visited Konoha, enough so that she knew exactly which route to take to get whatever she wanted, or she had previously lived here.
Each story was equally possible. And at your current moment, you had no way to find out which one was correct. The opportunity would present itself soon. That, you were sure of.
"Youko." Your mother called. "We're here."
You glance at the shop in question. It was a small thing, no bigger than 15 meters across. You wondered how a shop this small could be the only host of a rare brand of fabric.
Opening the door, your mother walked inside. You followed.
You were greeted by a youthful sounding voice belonging to a girl somewhere in her adolescence.
"Hello!" She called. "I'm in the back right now but I'll be out in just a second!"
The girl in question came out a moment later. Her black hair came down to her neck and she wore a vibrant turquoise yukata.
"Sorry about that." She apologized. "I was working on commission and I guess time just got away from me!"
Your mother smiled. "It's of no consequence. I know how it can be, working on commissions and all, sometimes you just get so into it and the next thing you know it's the middle of the night!" She chuckled.
The girl laughed. "I know! Every time that happens Obaa-chan always yells at me, telling me I should spend less time working and more time meeting boys or catching up on beauty sleep. Honestly! The old woman just doesn't understand that I like working here." She blinked. A sheepish look washed over her face. "S-Sorry! I ramble a lot, bad habit. You said you also did commissions? Are you a seamstress? Is that why you're here?"
"Indeed I am." Your mother replied. "And yes, that is the reason I am here today." Your mother reached into her shirt and brought out a piece of paper. Crisply unfolding it while she did so. "Is Agatha here today? I ordered this-" she handed the paper to the girl "a while back and am here to receive it."
"Oh well if it's just a pick up I can-" The black haired girl scanned over the paper. "Oh. Y-Yeah I'll go get Obaa-chan. She's in the back."
The girl turned and retreated into the back.
You could faintly hear a 'Obaa-chan! There's an order that needs you!' from the back.
Tearing your eyes away from the door that the girl just disappeared to, you look back at your mother. The warm smile that she gave the young girl was still there and her body was positioned in a receptive way.
But her eyes.
Her eyes were as cold as murder.
The door leading to the back of the shop creaked slightly as it opened. An old lady stepped out with a smile on her face.
"Hello! I heard you needed- Oh it's you." Agatha said.
You raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in attitude. Your mother however made no shift in how she presented herself.
"You haven't died yet?" The old lady said bluntly.
"Is that any way to treat a customer Agatha-san?" Your mother replied.
"Keh, maybe if it was anyone else then no." She glanced at you. "Who's the kid? Yours?"
Your mother nodded. "Youko. Say hello to Agatha."
You bow your head. "Hello. Agatha-san."
She stares at you for a moment before turning back towards your mother. "She's got your eyes."
"Why thank you." Your mother smiles.
"That wasn't a compliment. So why are you here? You never stop by to just chit chat."
"I believe the young lady who worked the front mentioned something about an order to you, Agatha-san."
"Hah! That might be true. But the second I saw you the only thing that I could think was that my good day was now ruined."
Your mother hid a cruel smile that broke out on her face behind a hand. "How rude. Here I am, a paying customer and I have to endure this barrage of insults?"
Agatha scowled. "I liked you much better when you were just a little brat that didn't know their left from right."
"Oh?" Your mother feigned surprise. "I believe you were the one who taught me all that I know?"
The old woman gave a huff. "I guess I have no one to blame but myself for that."
Your mother's eyes flashed. A new emotion filled them. It was one that you were familiar with but hadn't seen before on your mother.
It was bloodlust.
"You are correct in that regard… Why don't you let this student of yours show you what they learned since graduating from your tutelage?"
Agatha's eyes narrowed and the ever present scowl deepened. She reached down under the front desk and pulled out a medium sized package. Shoving it into your mother's hands, she said one word.
"Leave."
Your mother complied. One hand carrying the package and one hand slipped into yours.
It was only once you were halfway to the hotel you were residing at did you let the maniacal laughter bubbling up within you out in the form of a imperceivable chuckle.
Your mother was truly an interesting person it seemed. To be hated by your own sensei was a trait not shared by many. And in that short exchange between mentor and mentee, you've learned far more about her than you previously thought you would.
You looked up at the large carving of stone overseeing the village. The three heads that governed it appeared to be mocking you, their blank faces looking down upon you. Laughing at you for your current weak body of a child. Hate filled you, flowed through you and brewed deep within your gut.
Nobody looked down on you.
One day you would triumph over the strong. But that day was not today. You were patient. You would lie in wait and then strike when they least expected it.
Perhaps that Agatha lady would be a good stepping stone.
Start: Nov 9th. 2017.
End: Nov 14th. 2017.
Words: 3220
I am looking for a beta for this story. Possibly.