War-torn
A/N: You may think I'm on a roll when I very much am not. Updates are sporadic and only come to me when I feel like writing this. Lately, I'm on a high with this scenario, hence the near-daily updates.
As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading.
The hermit told her he could bring her back fifteen years into the past. The hermit actually brings her back fifty-five.
All she wanted was to find a sword.
"You've what?"
When Hashirama told his brother to go after her, he did not expect her to be interrogated, imprisoned, and stripped of her belongings less than an hour later.
"She is compliant." Tobirama continues to report, "So much that it gives me reason enough to arrest her."
Hashirama doesn't quite get that mindset. If she had something to hide, something that she must do no matter what, why would she simply allow herself to be interrogated and imprisoned?
"You should have left that to the Police Force." He comments.
"Perhaps that was what she thought." But Tobirama is firm in his accusation.
"Do you honestly believe Madara would collude with the samurai?" was Hashirama's equally certain response.
Tobirama scowled. Madara was prideful and arrogant, he wanted power more than anything and would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He had left the village some years prior, and his whereabouts remain unknown. If he, by some chance, suddenly had a changed mindset and hired the help of samurai...
"I believe he would do anything at this point."
Hashirama does not reply, instead, he looks down at the two maps laid before him. One was a familiar map, a map of the world they know. The other seemed to be an old one, wrinkled and slightly frayed at the sides. It had writings on it, some names of places were encircled and some were underlined. There were lines connecting one place to another. Marginal notes with names of people, villages. And there, at the bottom of the map, a set of small islands were encircled thrice.
He looks at the other map. The small islands were not to be found there, nor were several of the names and borders that the other had. It was quite astounding and quite terrifying at the same time. It was almost as if she carried around with her a map of things to come.
Or perhaps she carried a map of the past, a very distant one.
But it didn't make sense. Both the two maps had "Konohagakure" so it was more likely that she is from the future.
Hashirama chuckled at the thought.
"Impossible." He said to himself.
"What is?"
He could try to explain it to his brother, but doubts that he would believe him.
"Did she say anything else?" Hashirama was quick to return to the matter.
"Yes. A name." Tobirama replied, the look of suspicion never leaving his face. "Tenbutsu Masamune."
"Tenbutsu Masamune."
All she knew about him was that he was a writer who existed during this time. And he was the writer who introduced her to the mythical swords. He penned the classical text, Monstrous Beings and Sacred Objects, which detailed the myths surrounding both living men and women, and objects with mystical capabilities.
One of the objects was Murai.
Now, she wonders what repercussions her actions have, what damned event she had created by stringing along lies of the worst kind.
"You've never been one to tell lies." A voice, distant yet familiar, chides her in the recesses of her mind. "So honest you are. Terribly so."
She has at least twenty hours to think of what to do, where to go, who to look for. She already knows that what the white-haired shinobi said was a ruse, they wouldn't be able to hold true to their word. They lied, the same way she lied to them. They are likely to execute her in the morning.
In the silence of the cell, she grips her knees and makes a decision.
But then the door opens and a shinobi, a stoic woman, enters.
The woman stares her down, and she stares right back at her.
She doesn't know if she should greet her or–
The woman rushes, extremely quick, and presses her palm to Shikai's forehead with such a force that she's almost pushed to the ground.
And suddenly her mind is flushed with memories; sounds and images unfamiliar to the woman viewing them.
That woman is Touka Senju.
Shikai swears the hermit is not human, not entirely.
Perhaps fifteen minutes had already passed, yet the sky has not yet changed. The hermit appeared to be an old man, quite like any hermit in the stories she had read as a child, yet showed speed and agility unfit for his age. He stands before her now, a mocking grin on his dry, aged mouth.
"I bear you no ill will."
"You cannot prove it."
She thinks he not human, that perhaps he is an immortal entity whose task is to distract the weary traveler. Perhaps he is a monster, like those she had assumed were used to scare children into not wandering off. Or perhaps what he says is true, perhaps he can go back in time.
The hermit merely smiles, and suddenly a bright light filters through the cracks. She looks to the cave entrance, and light floods through almost as if the sun had suddenly appeared.
"Impossible."
She rushes to the entrance on impulse, goes out of the cave and looks up to the sky.
The sun was moving in reverse, replacing the dim light of dusk with the warm afternoon light.
She turns to the hermit. "You–"
"I am of this island, and I can help you."
When Tobirama returns to continue interrogating the foreign samurai, he didn't expect to see her unconscious on the floor and Touka leaning over her as if studying something.
"Her mind has been locked." His sister told him, totally undeterred by his miffed expression.
He had sensed her presence leagues away, but did not think she would commit something like this.
"And you are here because?" He crosses his arms over his chest, an obvious expression of his disapproval.
"You should be thankful, niisan." She's undeterred by this. "I did your job for you."
He frowns. Touka had always been the curious type and thought little of the possible consequences of her meddling. She is a master of mental tactics, garnering fame throughout the world as a master of genjutsu.
"It's a brilliant technique." She continued. "She might even not be aware of it."
When Touka scoured the foreign samurai's mind, she expected to see something familiar, perhaps a man giving an order or a reading of a missive, but she saw nothing of any immediate significance. All she saw was an old man, a cave, a forest clearing, and the sun moving in reverse.
"Is that so?"
If Touka, as impressive as she is in mental and illusionary arts, thought a technique was brilliant, then he could only think of one person who is capable of such a feat.
He looks at the samurai and now feels the slightest bit of pity.
Perhaps he has been right all along.
On afternoons, Tenbutsu Masamune enjoys a pot of tea and a plate of sweets in his garden. Oftentimes, he enjoys listening to his daughter play the shamisen or listening to his son about his latest adventure in the forest outside of town. He is a blacksmith-turned-writer who is famous enough to still receive requests for swords and armor, and respected enough that no qualms will be made should he reject an offer.
This afternoon, however, a messenger comes to him with a surprising letter.
"It hails from a new village, sir." The messenger told him. "One from Hi no Kuni, Konohagakure."
He's never actually heard of this new village before.
"All right. Let's hear it."
The messenger tells him there's a samurai by the name of Amakuni Shikai who claims to have been sent by him to retrieve a sword, a mythical one, going by the name of Murai.
"I see." He nods in thought. "They're going to bring it to me, you say?"
"Yes, sir. You had told them not to return unless they have the blade."
"So I did." He punctuates.
If he could get his hands on such a thing, if he could study such a mystical thing...
"I did." He repeats, sounding a bit too excited at the opportunity.
Heavens be praised.
"Very well, sir." The messenger bows. "Thank you for clarifying this matter."
"Of course."
Masamune frowns as the messenger leaves. This isn't the first time someone has used his name to go about their adventures, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He knows about the existence of such mystical items, but has only seen one such thing so far in his life.
The Kusanagi.
According to the myth, Murai was cut from a dragon's fang, carved by lightning, and forged in boiling water. It should be located in an island guarded by the very dragon itself. Should this person actually go on such an adventure to bring him such a thing...
"I just hope they aren't afraid of being eaten alive."
Shikai is surprised when she wakes up to a serving of cold rice and even colder soup.
No, she is even more surprised by the fact that she woke up. When had she fallen asleep? What had happened? What this not actually a vivid dream?
She looks at the meal in front of her and begins eating. Bland taste and coldness aside, she was thankful they had the decency to not let her starve. It was already sunset; she had been asleep for about four hours. She had nothing else with her besides the clothes she wore.
She only had about twelve hours to think of what to do. No, she might not even have twelve hours because surely by now they would have decided on what to do with her. They might not wait until tomorrow to let her go. Or they might not even allow her to leave this cell.
If they had decided on the latter, then she has no choice but to escape. Break through the walls and run as fast and as far as she could, become a fugitive and–
No, she does not want that.
She hears footsteps coming and fears for the worst.
If they do decide to execute her, then she must at least try telling them the truth.
"My name is Shikaku no Shikai and I wish to confess." She blurts out, quickly and unrefined, through half a mouthful of rice.
The white-haired shinobi stood over her, looking and sounding like an adult who is scolding a child.
"Whatever it is, say it after you've finished eating."
She could feel her embarrassment rippling through her clothes.
When Tobirama checks on the foreigner, he expected to see her still unconscious or already planning her escape. If it was the latter, well, he could sense her from a mile away, anyway.
Well, close to a mile away.
"My name is Shikaku no Shikai and I wish to confess."
He hears her first, albeit sounding as if she is in the middle of chewing her food, before he sees her sitting on her ankles, one hand scooping rice from the bowl and the other holding the bowl to her mouth.
"Whatever it is, say it after you've finished eating." He says disdainfully. Beyond being rude, it was just downright disgusting to hear someone talk whilst they were in the middle of chewing food.
There is a moment of stillness before she acts, quick to place the bowl down and wipe her mouth and her hands clean of the food.
She clears her throat and her nervousness is heard. She does not look at him.
"My name is Shikaku no Shikai and I wish to confess." She repeats.
He says nothing, and she continues. "You may not believe a word I say from here on, but trust that I what I say is true."
She pauses, thinks that he's going to say something, and thinks of the many answers she could give him.
But he doesn't.
And it makes things more difficult.
"I am from the future."
At the last syllable, she breathes out a heavy sigh and expects him to respond in disbelief, that perhaps she is lying, that perhaps she is toying with him, that she had her last chance to come clean but instead joked around and mocked him.
She braces for his answer, but there is none.
She breathes nervously. "Even I found that difficult at first, that I am in the past, a world so foreign from what I know..."
She dares look up at him and sees his expression hasn't changed one bit.
He scoffs, visibly bothered, before walking away.
She is definitely going to die.
She leans against the wall, too terrified about what's to come.
Outside, Tobirama clenches his fists in confusion and bitterness.
"Perhaps Hashirama was right." He mutters to himself. "But what good would come out of this?"
A/N: And when you read this chapter, you expected something substantial to happen.
But nothing did.
Anyway, I've got a feeling this story will be slow-paced. I know not a lot of people appreciate that kind of work, but it's something I haven't tried before.
Feedback is always appreciated. If you have tips or anything regarding "slow burn" (and I use the term loosely), feel free to share as well! Thanks for reading.