Author's Notes: Well, I hoped the interlude proved interesting; with no reviews it's hard to tell. Anyway, I have plans for a few more as events proceed, but I'll get back to the main story for now, picking up Ise's part of the tale again. There's still some ways to go before the two main characters finally meet, but it will begin to take shape now. I should note that following this chapter the story is going to get rather darker, and I may have to upgrade the rating to R due to the way some of the fights go.
Chapter 10 – Verdant Gateway
(three weeks later)
The sun rose at Ise's back, slowly brightening the autumn day. As it did the shark-blooded ninja crossed through scrub forest into the Grass Country. It was a gradual transition, the forest had been thinning for some time, and soon, Ise knew, it would be gone completely. The open plains and steppes of Grass awaited him, and there his mission would truly begin. He was anxious to proceed.
For almost two weeks Ise had been unfortunately delayed, his wound had penetrated deeper than he thought, and he had been unable to walk appropriately. So instead of proceeding onward he chose to stop in a small village until he recovered. The delay had been truly aggravating, but it had given Ise some time to reflect, to learn, and to plan. So when he left the village he was prepared for this mission's true trials, as he had not been before.
Ise had come to realize, lying on his stomach to rest his injured back in the small village, what had happened to him during the fight with the Sound rogues. The shark within me spoke, and I heard it. It was not a complete surprise; Ise had heard that dark voice before, in battle, and during the matches of the chuunin exam. The voice was simple and powerful, with only one goal; hunt down your enemy and consume them. The shark is unfeeling and merciless, it knows only that its hunger must be met. His father had taught this to Ise when he was very young. The shark is the perfect predator, concerned only with satisfying its hunger. This is what gives you great power. This lineage of blood, but it also has dangers, for a man is not a shark. Ise's father might have told him that, but it was his uncle Kisame who taught him the truth of it.
And the shark has spoken to me. Ise could find no happiness in the knowledge. He had heard the voice from within him before, the other half of his nature speaking to him. Always before it had been only feelings, urges, emotions, this had been different. He had known what the shark would do precisely, and without hesitation Ise had acted upon that knowledge. It was through that power I survived. Without it, I would be dead.
The sun had been setting when Ise finally came to that conclusion. His blood had gone cold, and he could not remember ever feeling such terror as he had at that moment. The urge to scream denial had been strong; to push the thoughts away, and only one other had countered it. I cannot fail! The Warlord depends upon me. Ise knew this, the mission to find Mizuho was his and his alone, and there would be no aid. I will need the shark's strength to succeed. There is no other way. As the thoughts formed in Ise's mind, bathed in the redness of the sunset, Ise had a glimpse into the Warlord's mind, into the greater scheme that encompassed his own struggle as but a minor part. Was I sent forth in part to learn this thing? Dark the worming thought was, but Ise turned it over in his mind again and again, for he could not escape it. As he did, more things became clear, slowly and painfully, but as he swam further through the dark portions of his feelings he could not help but see them.
As I am now I will never be more than a mediocre ninja. History clearly spoke to this. Four years as a chuunin and Ise had been sent on few important missions, only two of A rank, and those as part of a large force. He had never been approached by the ANBU as many had, or been offered to study under a master ninja. There was presently no chance of his becoming a jounin. It never mattered to me before, being a chuunin, doing my part, was enough. Ise had believed that for a long time, even at the beginning of this mission, had simply thought he had little ambition and so his strength was not great. As darkness fell the illusion shattered. That was never the reason I was so average. No, I was hiding from the shark. It is my strength, and without it my skills are unimpressive. He saw clearly, staring at nothing, what he had denied for so long, the heritage he had thrown away in disgust the day his brother Naki died on Kisame's Sameheda. To become powerful, enough to complete this task, I must accept the shark in me. It was crystal clear now, and crystal sharp was the terror such truth engendered. If I do, how can I not be a monster?
For days Ise could find no answer to this problem the fight with the Sound had brought forth. Every day he felt the shark in him whisper stronger, and he could glimpse new possibilities for battle, for killing, coming to him, new things he had been told of, but long thought beyond his reach. Now Ise knew they were within his grasp, but he would have to embrace the killing voice in order to do so. If I do that I lose myself. Is there no way to be strong as the shark and not become an animal? There must be! He ran desperately through his memory, through the history of his family, and even what he knew of true ocean sharks. He found nothing, only memories of terror and betrayal, of ninja swallowed up by the shark's voice, living only for the scent of blood and the red rage of killing.
Still Ise sought the answer, he was sure there must be one, or the bloodline could never have come to pass in the first place. There must be a way to grasp the shark's power and still be human.
It was in the same memory of battle that had sparked this dark struggle for equilibrium where Ise found the answer.
The Leaf boy, Aburame Shino.
Bug-wielding, and infested with creatures in a way no human was, Shino had been obviously isolated from many parts of his humanity, so much so that the shark's nose did not consider him human anymore. Yet he was clearly a ninja, restrained and in control, able to adapt to his orders and serve his country well. In this Ise saw the answer, or so he thought. Perhaps I cannot stay human and heed this voice, but I can still remain a ninja. That is enough for now. It was not, truly, but it was somewhere to begin. Ise was content to settle for that much. The rest will come in time. With this I can complete my task at least.
Resolved, and healthy once more, Ise crossed through the last vestiges of Sound country, empty land, Waterfall country, and then into Grass country. As he traveled the land grew drier, and the season grew colder. This brought some urgency to Ise's stride, for he knew he could not wander the land blindly in winter. I must find a lead in Grass country, and before the season changes, or I will waste the whole year. Still, there is enough time.
Not far past the border stood a small town on the crest of a hill. A road traveled through it, and Ise decided that here stood as good a place as any to begin. He would need information, and the town would provide it. Yet he could not walk here as a Mist ninja and expect to learn what he needed. So he altered the henge mask he wore, removing the trappings of the ninja, kunai holster, forehead protector, flak jacket, and shuriken pouch. There was no way to hide his spear, but in some ways this was a benefit. Now I appear as an itinerant soldier, or perhaps a ronin, Ise thought. It will serve well enough. The disguise was somewhat vulnerable, as a soldier was more suspicious than a farmer, but Ise had gained one key skill already in this mission. He knew how to wear henge so no one would suspect. Wearing the jutsu constantly for weeks on end gave him knowledge of it to match a skilled jounin. It would take a talented ninja indeed to detect the shark-blooded ninja beneath the mask now.
The new disguise had a different feel to it, but in some ways Ise felt more comfortable appearing as a soldier than as another ninja. Now I am hiding my face for a purpose, to carry out a mission, this was essential and spurred no regrets. Before I was hiding simply because my blood marks me as tainted.
Walking into the small hilltop town Ise quickly noticed the differences between the Grass country and the other nations he had visited. The buildings here were solid, not paper thin as in many countries, and constructed of old wood and crossed bone, towns that were old and had not moved in long ages. The earth is stable here, Ise could tell, and wind and storm becomes the enemy. He also noted the small size of the town, and how few of the buildings were full. The streets held few passerby, and activity was little, even in this, the heart of the day. It matched what Ise had been told of this land of plains. The people here are tied not to towns, but to the herds marching across the land. This may be helpful, for the townspeople will know what is happening in a wide range. Certainly he could determine they would know more than the people of Mist, who often knew nothing of what happened beyond their small shore-side fishing villages.
Seeing a small restaurant on the main street Ise took the chance to try and test his ability to gather information. It was not much of a restaurant, but given the small size of the town it was likely a central location. Passing through the door Ise felt ensconced in gloom, for the stout construction blocked much light, and few lamps were burning within. Yet in that dimness Ise saw luck had blessed him, for among the sparse costumers at grimy hide-stretched tables sat a pair of samurai, sharing the midday meal and muttering to each other.
Swiftly Ise sat perhaps halfway across the open space from the samurai, and ordered his own meal. He was surprised to find it containing bread and meat, with no rice, but after the first satisfactory bite forgot about it, for there were more important matters. He focused his hearing upon the two samurai, following their conversation as they slowly ate. He found, to his surprise, that he seemed to hear more than before, his ear picking up sharp undercurrents and punctuations to the speech with clarity he'd never before had. It surprised Ise, until he found himself contemplating how easy it would be to destroy everyone in the room. So this is something of the shark too, he realized. He started to quash the feeling, but then stopped, determined to do things differently than he always had before. I must not take the dead end path. I can consider these things idly if I must; I simply have to refrain from acting upon them. That done, Ise focused in two different places, considering how he would slash apart the bar if it came to blows, and intently digesting the samurai's words.
"Weather's been chill lately, there's been cold winds from the north," one samurai, a gruff man, but young and strong, with straight black hair, told the other.
"It's not so bad," the other, a much older man, with cruel scars and pockmarks on his face and hands, replied. "I've seen many worse," he shrugged. "Tough winter coming on, maybe bring the herds in early, but we'll get by, always have."
"So you say," The young samurai responded guardedly. "You seen plenty of tough winters, and if you say we'll get by then I believe it," he paused for a moment, and spoke lower. Listening to him Ise could almost hear the hints of fear seep into his tone. "Still, we could do without a bad winter now, there's too much trouble. It worries me."
"You young ones always think there's too much trouble," the old samurai choked down a piece of meet. "You're letting your ears wander, so long as this town's fine nothing else concerns us. Let the people who take care of trouble deal with it."
"Trouble could come to this town you know, if what I hear is true," the samurai's voice was angry now. "Whatever's been happening the damn ninja sure haven't dealt with it. All the herders say something bad's happening in the south, and nobody seems to be stopping it. Plus we've got all those rumblings from the mountains up north, some skirmish happened there not to long ago. You say it's going to be a bad winter, and if anyone'd try something during the winter it'd be those mountain ninja. We're pretty close to them here, I don't like it."
"You shouldn't worry," the old samurai waved his hand. "No one's going to attack us in winter, not in a bad winter, even the mountain ninja can't deal with our snow drifts. The problems in the south will quite down soon. Besides, even if somebody does try something, all we have to do is protect the herders and make sure there's still livestock come spring. A tough winter'll bring out brigands, true, but they'll fight half-starved and be easy to beat. Relax, when snowfall comes I'll teach you to fight in the drifts." The old samurai ended the conversation here. "Now, eat your food, we've got to go patrol later on."
Ise listened to this all very carefully, intrigued. The news about the winter to come discouraged him, but other things interested him. Any trouble might lure out the Mizuho from hiding, and give him the clue he needed. Perhaps the youth knows something, he might be worth a further question. It was a risk, but Ise considered, and then decided to take it. This is a small town, and I shall be gone soon, I doubt it will be remarked.
The mist ninja stood slowly, returning his finished dish to the master. As he came back he passed by the two samurai, stopped, and turned toward them. "Pardon," he spoke deferentially, addressing the old samurai first. "I could not help hear a few of your words. I'm looking for work," Ise gestured toward his spear, still sitting back at his table, finding his soldier guise useful already. "Perhaps you could point me in the right direction."
"We don't need to tell foreigners…" the young samurai began, but stopped as the old samurai grunted slightly.
"Looking for trouble's not our job," he told his companion, "But I can't see that we shouldn't help things by pointing a soldier in the right way. Besides," He looked Ise up and down. "This lad's a strong one, I'd rather not face him as a brigand come winter if he doesn't find work." Ise grimaced a little at the comment, but he could tell the old man was going to tell him something. "There's surely plenty of work if you need it boy, either south or north, you can take your pick. The Stone are rumbling again, as the mountains always do, and they always need help against brigands up there in the winter, too many caves you see. If you don't like mountains well, there's some trouble in the south it seems we samurai can't stop and the lousy ninja haven't managed to catch. Probably more dangerous, but warmer," The samurai ran his hand across the bottom of his chin, back and forth slowly. "You're new to the plains I expect, so let me tell you this much. If you can't find a place to take you through the winter then head south soon. Nothing can move on the plains once the snow comes down hard, and you'll freeze."
"My thanks," Ise told them both, knowing he dared not ask more without seeming suspicious. "I shall keep your advice in mind." With that he took his leave.
The conversation weighed heavily on Ise's mind as he walked further west, to the other end of the town. He now he some options, where before he had none, it was encouraging. Two sources of trouble, well, that's useful. Ise knew he had no chance of finding the Mizain in ordinary circumstances, someone trying to search such a vast area, without phenomenal luck, would not find ninja who had hid completely for twenty years. But trouble, that offers possibilities, a single mistake, and rumors will fly. So, two ways, which way to go, south or north? It took only a moment for Ise to decide. South, trouble with the Stone is routine I'm sure, like between Mist and Lightning. The Mizain will not be found there. Whatever is happening to the south seems far more interesting. Besides, Ise thought to himself. It will be a little warmer to the south at least.
Concentrating on his thoughts, Ise did not look up until he had passed through the western gate of the town. There a brisk wind caught his face, brushing through the scaled skin beneath his henge mask. Surprised, he jerked his head up. What he saw left him speechless.
It was only a small hill, perhaps a few hundred feet above the surrounding land, but the land beyond was almost perfectly flat, and Ise could see for miles and miles. Great plains of green stretched beyond, an ocean of grass, rippling with massive waves in the wind, till the land seemed a fluid and living thing, something far more than simple plants. Here and there a scattered tree, ragged poles in the openness stood its solitary sentinel's duty, flowing back and forth to the tempo of the wind. Wide rivers rippled through the landscape, flowing slow but strong, ancient and ever-shifting paths carving their way to the far distant sea. Among all this majestic expanse could be seen the occasional flock of sheep or cattle, moving slowly across the green plane.
All his life Ise had found the land a confining place, closed, grubby, and boring compared to the ocean. He knew it was the shark-blood in him, but he had nevertheless been constantly drawn to the sea, considering the earth to be lacking, never able to match the gracious swells and glimmering vistas of water. Now, here, he had finally found a place on land he could understand and appreciate. Slowly, letting the breeze sweep through his tall frame, Ise smiled. This mission will be far more pleasant than I believed. He looked out, shark eyes focusing on a great distance away, following one of those slow rivers down its course, traveling with it, seeing in his mind the many miles his feet would soon traverse.
A glimmer of brown atop a hill caught his eye. Another town like this one, Ise guessed, a good place to go. He marked it, and its proximity to a river; he would travel there then. Spirits lifted far above anything they had been since landing ashore in Sound country, Ise walked onward.
Days would pass, as the shark-blooded mist ninja traveled through the country of grass, in his constant trek. Never slow and never fast, he traveled south and east, deep into the heart of the plains nation. He stopped only briefly, to eat, to sleep, and to take in the news in the towns, always an Ashigaru heading to the troubled south. He was not the only such itinerant traveled the way. Rumors swirled in the Grass country, carried on the loose lips of drunken samurai, holding the gossip of merchants, herders, and others, but most importantly holding bits and pieces of words mistakenly let loose by the most important of sources, the ninja. Time after time Ise would hear the same stories, but he would hear enough difference to gradually piece together which rumors were true and which were false. As the days passed Ise, walking ever by the riverbank, would come to understand something of the happenings in southern grass country.
There is a ninja there, at least one, rogue. It was easy enough for Ise to learn this. Too many times he heard stories of men wounded in ways no samurai could create, enough to recognize the mark of jutsu upon them. Furthermore, the ninja had failed to catch the source of these strange incidents, and only a ninja could hide from other ninja for long. He also heard enough of water jutsus in use to believe that perhaps the rogue ninja were from the nearby country of rain, though Ise was far from certain of this. As he accumulated stories he recognized more and more the area involved, a zone near the very south of grass country, and seemingly moving closer to the edge slowly. It is a strange circumstance, Ise thought. They cannot catch this ninja, but the ninja seems to be flushed out fairly easily. I wonder why? It was a disparity of skill that confused him. He did not hurry, but he made steady time towards the area.
I am getting closer, Ise thought after a week and a half of travel, as he neared the southern grass country. The river he walked ever next to had grown larger, preparing to rush off the plans in a long, steady plunge to the sea soon enough, and the temperature had stayed fairly constant, as winter was coming a bit later here. He stopped that day in a town by the riverside early in the morning.
That morning luck was with the shark-blooded ninja. He heard an angry argument between two ronin in the streets, one that drew forth the whole town.
"If you go south you'll die!" one man shouted at the other.
"Heh, so you say, but why's it all so dangerous?" the other man, younger, but taller and stronger, barked back.
"Listen to me you fool! I'm trying to save your life!"
"So this mysterious bandit blew up a well," the ronin waved his hand in dismissal. "Big deal. The herders'll squirm, but if I were a bandit I'd do it all the time."
"You've haven't listened to my words, fool," the other ronin spat back. "It's not that they blew up the well, but how it happened. Everything burned! There were herder's huts some fifty meters from that well, and when the water came up they burned, and so did the men in them! An explosion that powerful could blast apart this whole town! Don't go south, any of you!" He shouted to all the gathered ronin and soldiers. "You'll only die! Leave the dying to the damn ninja!"
"Bah, you're seeing things old man, there's no proof."
"No proof? Hah!" The older ronin threw his hat in the dusty street. "It happened not two days ago, directly southeast. I was there dammit! I heard the explosion one moment, and the next everything was burning. I quit the service then and there, and if you're wise you won't go that way either."
"You're just a coward old man, you've said it yourself." With that dismissal from the younger ronin the crowd nodded, and mostly dispersed.
Ise, however, did not. He waited for the crowd to leave, and the ronin to slump down disgusted by the side of a house, but then he approached the man. He stood next to him from above, not looking at him, but carefully making certain no one else was near enough to hear what he said. "You said the huts burned when the well exploded, correct?" he asked softly, but with a cutting edge beneath.
"I swear it, fifty meters, just as far as the water blasted out. Everything burning, I still don't believe it," he was softly disgusted, at himself and everyone else.
"Do you remember, perhaps," Ise questioned carefully. "Did front sides of the huts burn most?"
"No, it wasn't like that," the ronin replied glumly. "They were burning everywhere, one of the herders, I saw him try to jump out the back, but it didn't save him, flames were everywhere."
"And this was only two days ago?" Ise asked after a long moment's pause.
"Not even, it happened the night before last, I'm still trying to get the vision out of my head."
"A pity that," Ise replied for formalities sake. "I appreciate your warning." With that he walked off, taking care to blend slowly into the crowd, another soldier among many here.
Though Ise's questions had surely seemed strange to the old man, there had been something very important he was searching for in the answers. The flames as far as the water traveled, and on all sides, not only the front as if from a blast. To most people it would have meant nothing beyond an odd occurrence, but Ise held knowledge others did not. It was not an explosion, the water caused the fires, Ise was certain of it, he would have bet his life on the knowledge. He smiled deeply, and beneath his henge mask it was the predatory smile of a shark that senses his prey. Water causing fires can have only one source. Mizuho.
He headed southeast with a much-quickened tread.