Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.
Enjoy :)
"Oh those who listen, follow my voice"
"Oh chosen ones, follow my voice, to the edge of the land", a familiar chant of a gargled announcer echoed the world.
And everytime, the world would compress into the sound through corridors upon corridors of a white labyrinth which maneuvered right and left, in an almost aimlessly perfect manner.
Then, it would reveal itself.
A decrepitly weakened figure glowed with a hue brighter and warmer than the sun itself, around this mold of a vague person were countless golden chains and undecipherable scripture ran onto the prisoner and across the prison itself.
The entity spoke:
"Oh Fairai, the ones who seek salvation in my being, come to me, free me from these chains and I will fulfill your promises"
As if sensing the boy's unwelcomed visit into what seemed like a secret meeting, a bright light pierced his being and the dreamscape crunched onto its own light, shattering into a million pieces.
The abyss greeted its visitor.
Suddenly, a blaze of a molten candle brought into vision a scene of heartbreak and familiarity, as if it was a glimpse into "loss" itself. On the ashen ground, lay an assortment of forgotten shards of dried human remains made apparent by the ghastly, hollow stare of an empty skull.
The decay had set in and even the scavengers and maggots had had their share. There was something strange within the shadow of said corpse that felt "alive". With the exception of the dying candles, the rest of the room was as if death had carved itself onto the space like a strange miasma of reality.
One foot forward, two steps back. It was impossible to reach out or walk through this stagnant air, as if it had surrounded the boy into a limitless barrier between himself and the world.
But his eyes darted and they saw through the nearby clearing of space. If not for the blimps of fiery lamps off in the distance, he would have mistaken this abyss for merely a neatly assembled coal on the walls. That and the ghastly, tangible noir filling into the room like gas.
So becoming of a nightmare. The bare purpose of anything that existed within it was purely to inflict within the senses the primal sense of a tugging in the chest and the disease of terror. But why did this delusion of the mind feel so vicious, so nostalgic and so agonizing, it could not be grasped.
Perhaps, It was more akin to a lost memory of sorts. Perhaps, the boy was sort of a unique case after all.
It was then that the realization of that little intricacy flooded in a slew of harrowing pictures into the crevices of his breaking mind.
A man on his knees, prostrating in heavy armor whose sword rested right into the pits of his poor, aimless hands reaching out to a figure. His tone was medieval, fitting into the general stylistic choice for his character, but his words grumbled into a blur. The only impression that a passerby could make was that the man knew naught but dedication and integrity. A man of honor.
And in other, a familiar face without features. A scarecrow of a person. In others, he saw battles, swords, struggles, things he could name but not comprehend.
And in some other, the pained face of a poor, diseased lady.
And in countless others, knowledge of things that made no sense.
Each embodying a suffering greater than before, he felt his mind ripping under the burden of intaking the essence of a universe, itself.
STOP THIS! I BEG YOU! Stop these images! Please!
Nothing changed and the pain grew exponentially. The boy began banging his head against the cold cobblestone as if trying to alleviate a greater pain with multiple lesser ones.
STOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITST
Stop this please….
His voice was met with no response or mercy, however, the images blurred eventually and it all faded back into the nonexistence it had birthed from, leaving only an impression of their natures.
It was then, his exhausted eyes darted back again at the skull that had greeted him in the beginning, and something beckoned inside him to reach for it. He slowly crawled towards it. This time, the barrier no longer sprung into action and allowed him to move close up to the ashes of decay. His knees weakened and all will from his legs vanished, only his arms stretched out towards the familiar face.
And there, he sat on the cracked pavement of rotten-stone and overgrown green, taking all of the bones into his grasp and emotionlessly hugged the remains.
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
It was then the skull spoke:
"My dearest, do not cry. Does it still ache?"
He could not speak.
"Do you weep for me?"
He could not speak.
"But why, I am truly happy now...", the shivering utterance of a girl echoed through his soul.
He could not speak.
"My death…?"
He could not speak.
If he could see the voice he heard, he had no doubt would have seen her painful smile bury all odds and wear itself proud.
"It's okay, dummy! Besides, you promised I would live on in your heart, won't I?, ****?"
As if to respond to the girl that spoke through the ashes, against the unclaimed emotions and inability to speak, a grand scream tore through the universe as if to mirror the state of his heart and the world collapsed into a peaceful death.
Ashoka jerked awake to the sound of his ears ringing to the screeches of his dreams. His body quaking to the echoes rumbling through the moonlit room. His racing heart ached and cheeks moist, the inexplicable feeling of grieve crushed the very essence of his core.
After a few moments of fighting against the shivering ceiling and the shuddering floor, he finally regained enough composure to calm the thunders of his terrified mind. He reached for a tubular shaped instrument beside him. Slowly, he gently caressed it's smooth, wooden structure, and contemplated through the catalog of tunes he could antiphase the echoes with. His precious flute always helped him regain his nerves and brighten his shadows no matter how thick the clouds above him. Kissing the opening, he let out a breath of melodies that danced to the movements of his fingers.
Beautiful. Yet, another song he had no clue he had heard from, but it made Ashoka feel a sedating embrace. It was akin to a beautiful meadow as if the whispers of nature had feathered around his ears. Unfortunately, the mystic of the melody slowly faded into the night, and his thoughts circled back to his dreams.
Nightmares of a desolate, foreign land that reminded him of hearth and comfort. The decomposing ruins eroded into the grey land. The air caked with miasma. But no more, Ashoka echoed, it was all in the past, a past that he neither recalled or wished to remember.
It was a few moments later, as he wandered in his apartment corner to corner begging his mind to meander in a similar manner, that grace of the almighty granted his desires through the sound of a popping seal and a flare into his chakra, alerting him.
Summons, Ashoka confirmed. He quickly changed into his
As much as Ashoka had wished for a distraction, his anxiety had seemingly doubled considering that an abrupt and urgent call could mean trouble. Regardless, the boy grounded his core into stoic indifference and jumped out the window into the swaying lights of Iwagakure.
The Village Hidden in the Rocks, for all the justified slander it received for its history as a primary aggressor in war and underhanded tactics, was hardly the sad excuse of a village as it was made out to be. For one, it had no lack of a bustling nightlife. Especially down the red light district. It was all, however, done in poor taste of aesthetic, lacking the hot pink or bright crimson lanterns of the contemporary style. The people of Iwa instead preferred a dull, fecal, brown. The reason for this was lost to time, but some acceptable explanations included that perhaps that Iwa simply was not fond of bright colors. The village was surrounded by multiple mountain ranges and dry, arid land all around. Or it could be that the darker tones helped those who wanted to remain anonymous remain under a veil of secrecy. Amongst the dystopian mess of an atmosphere, a small figure stealthily yet hastily made its way towards a dimly lit neighborhood.
"Sleazy bastard, calling me out this late…" .Ashoka pondered as he quickly traversed the skylines in an almost artistic form of Shinobi parkour.
The chilly breeze of an approaching winter brushed against his cheeks as his small stature jumped from one rooftop to another. He wondered if the shallow weight in his stomach and raging anxiety would calm itself once this journey would come to an end or be made worse with unsavory news.
As he approached the final leg toward his destination, he muted the energy coursing through his legs and slowed into a descent down to the cracked, rocky roads in the west most wing of the market district.
He scanned through the area around him, wary of any potential onlooker or tail that he might have attracted. Once satisfied, he walked into a shady alleyway. To the naked eye, it was merely a den of rats and litter sweeped onto unkempt concrete, but there was more to it, however, just as unpleasant. Ashoka let out a heavy sigh and readied himself to meet the greatest scum in the village. He channeled a warm, blue wave of energy into the wall brightening up a seal.
Rat, Boar, Bird.
The dark haired ninja paced through the hand seals and guided his chakra, molding it to the correct pathways and into the seal. Accompanied by a quick cloud of smoke, the wall morphed by the unraveling seal. Ashoka found himself staring at the hidden door. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the iron gates, textured with multiple carvings of a curled up, scaled dragon roaring into space. A warm light flooded his vision and his ears were greeted with the loud laughter of a raspy, old man.
The room that Ashoka had found himself in was perhaps the grand illustration of human debauchery with the pungent smell of alcohol, a thick mist of ashen smoke clouding the sight and the noise of a gentle shamisen drowned by the moans of drunken women. It truly was a mundane night at "Taotie's Circle".
The dingy, suspicious parlor was none other than the private holding for the stone dragon and his important guests who indulged in nightly pleasure or as the man himself called it "business". The Kessekiryu, the man seated on a luxurious porcelain couch dressed in fine velvet, was the nefarious leader of the underworld. His group of bastards, the Hachurui clan, held tremendous influence in both the Land of Earth and Wind, especially among the elite considering their monopoly over the weaponry, prostitution and alcohol that was traded in the countries.
Ashoka, annoyed with the strobing lights and the migraine inducing smells, lazily made his way towards his summoner, carefully avoiding the scantily dressed woman dancing on the metal poles.
One of the women, noticing the boy, smiled endearingly toward him,
"Hello, Daisuke-kun, it's been a while".
Ashoka smiled back and nodded, continuing his walk toward the man surrounded by masked guards and a group of women on his sides fawning over him.
Noticing Ashoka, he signaled for the girls to move away, as if to clear the way for them both to have a peaceful conversation. On his face, he wore a murderous grin that creased his green scales. His scarred face was garnished with slitted orbs staring right into Ashoka's soul like a true predator.
"Welcome! welcome, my dearest little friend", he announced
"it's been so long since we last met, how have you been",
"Hello, Gojun", Ashoka bowed awkwardly,
"It's not been long enough if you ask me, but I have been well. What do you have for me?"
The anthropomorphic dragon eyed Ashoka carefully, amused at his restless tone mismatching his composed, but wary frame and lifted chin.
Gojun, the Kessekiryu, was a deceivingly smart man with the personality of an idiot. Ashoka and him had a short history together, and overtime, no matter how much contempt he had for the reptilian tycoon, he couldn't help but respect his cunning nature. After all, it was, according to himself, what had earned him his throne. A seat of power that equaled a daimyo, that even the Kage were careful of.
After a short pause and a sarcastic sigh, he simply gestured to his guard who walked to Ashoka and handed him a scroll.
"You Root folk are all so "down to business" all the time", the well dressed man shaked his head and continued,
"The operative did not say much, but it sounded urgent, looks like your captain has plans for you", Gojun stated, reaching for his drink.
Ashoka paled. After all, what sort of critical situation had occurred that they had demanded such urgency? His mind coursing through grave possibilities. Gojun maintained his smile and stared at the boy.
Breaking the silence, Gojun pondered aloud, "Now, it's been a long time since I was a Shinobi myself but in my day an unexpected scroll meant a death sentence",
His slithering eyes glanced at him with fake concern, "Such a shame", he sneered.
Ashoka grimaced at the annoying statement but quickly composed himself. For now, he decided to simply pocket the scroll and worry about its implications later.
"You used to be a shinobi?, You hardly seem like someone who would make it past the Academy",
Gojun laughed, "Kid, you didn't even attend the academy",
Hee drank the last of the crimson liquid in his golden chalice and sighed in deep thought,
"But, you have a point, there. In some ways, atleast".
He continued, " Ah, those were the days. When Gojun-kun was only a wee little snob raving about the Will of Stone and protecting the village. Going on missions, killing the baddies, rescuing princesses, saving the world, the whole shtick"
Now he's a huge snob, criminally huge snob, Ashoka commented internally
"Even if I look like this now", he patted his huge belly, "I was pretty strong ya kno', still am, made it to Jonin and all that", he reminisced.
"But alas, idealism is a such a dirty, little whore", his expression scrunched in disgust, " either you grow old and weary of her or die in her charms,"
Ashoka entertained Gojun's recollection and interposed, "Well, perhaps. I think it's useful, the entire village system would not exist without it"
"It's not idealism that makes or maintains the villages, kid", Gojun shook his head, "It's power, whether it be the prospect or fear of it. Unity does not exist for the purpose of working towards something, it exists because it promises something. Adhesion without authority is useless, unity without power is meaningless.
Ashoka thought about it, "You're not wrong, Gojun, but it keeps the gears turning, would you not agree. Most of us join the ranks because we fall for her charms, no?"
Gojun nodded in affirmation, "It's good to grow out of it. Look at me now, down to earth and living by the buck like all good people, don't you agree babes", the statement earned him giggles and a "yes, Gojun-sama~" from the crowd of girls.
"Bah, never mind that, we have lots to chat about, come drink with me now that you are here", he gestured to the woman on his left, "Oh bring out that bottle from the Land of Fire, the one that came with the convoy today. We have an esteemed guest here"
The brown haired beauty with strange glasses and a particularly massive chakra signature reached into the cabinet and produced an expensive looking bottle.
"New girl?" Ashoka asked the excited figure as he sat down on the seat opposite him.
Gojun shook his head, "Name's Iyori. I picked her up a while back, she's usually out and about for me. She's pretty resourceful, fights nice too", he spoke as a proud grin ripped onto his face.
The unfamiliar woman smiled back at the mention of her name, "Pleased to meet you, Daisuke-kun. I've heard quite a bit about you".
"Likewise", Ashoka smiled politely, uncertain about her considering the odd feeling he sensed from her.
"Anyways", Ashoka continued looking back at the Kessekiryu, "I can't say much about the morality of chasing money, considering that attitude of yours has….", he paused looking for the right words, "accommodated my duties, but the words "good" or "bad" don't suit people like us, Gojun, you especially", Ashoka sneered.
"You're right, Shinobi-kun. You know, my friend, I've never understood your distaste for me for my work when we both are one and the same, you're just not honest with yourself like every other one of you all if you ask me", he rolled his eyes.
"Honesty in the fact that we do what we do for money. Sure, you stuff in layers of fluff called idealism and selfless whatever-ness, but in the end, only an idiot would do anything without the promise of money. Because money buys you life!", he turned to take the bottle from the brunette.
"And this", he said, "This is life, Daisuke-kun" and kissed the bottle of sake.
Ashoka deadpanned, "I see, I never said I was not distasteful of my own work", he did not necessarily disagree with the middle aged man but something about it made him queasy, "I did not know life was made of fermented rice and koji, but I'm a minor, Gojun".
"Bahhh, you're a Shinobi, there's no such thing as too young for some good sake", he waved sarcastically with a disturbing smile.
"I've always liked you, kid, how old are you? Eight, nine? But so much potential to be a great drinking partner. Listen here,"
His voice slurred into a badly accomplished whisper,
"If you ever get tired of Danzo-kun's little game, come work for me, even the girls like you around" signaling to the group of girls that worked down the aisle where the regulars usually sat.
Ashoka smiled awkwardly, "My answer is the same as always: no thank you, Gojun"
He rubbed his neck trying to scratch an odd itch, "Besides, my time in the village is running low and my head will be on a stake if I ever set foot in Iwa again. I would rather retire after this", earning an introspective nod from the man.
"Although, I don't mind redeeming the favors you've credited after years of making me do cheap labor" the boy grinned,
There was no way he would work for an exploitative scumbag like the Kessekiryu. No matter how much of a casual facade he might put on, Gojun was a traitorous mobster who terrorized the poor and had a kill count that put veteran ANBU to shame.
"Speaking of cheap labor", Gojun cleared his throat and his face blanked into a careful look, his eyes meaning business,
"I have a matter to discuss with you",
He glared at the guards that stood on the sides as a signal for dismissing them, and they flickered out to a distance, followed by the closeby women in the next instance.
"What is it?" Ashoka asked, biting into his lip, apprehensive about the lighthearted scumbag's tone.
"A week ago, a group I had dispatched into Ishigakure vanished".
That did not sound very unusual, Ishigakure was well known to be a lawless land filled with criminals and rogues. Concerning, but not unheard of.
Ashoka nodded for Gojun to continue.
"I sent out another group to investigate and they came back empty handed, but they reported something peculiar", he stated sternly
"Peculiar", Ashoka asked curiously.
"On their way to Ishi, they went through the port in the Land of Birds. There's rumors being stirred of an upcoming conflict and they had huge shipments of armory coming in. Armory, without the Hachurui seal! In the Land of Birds!", he exasperated.
The blood drained from Ashoka's face. This was a serious matter. Disregarding the loss of a client in a monopolized region, a neutral territory ordering mass armory and supplies translated to only one thing.
"War", Ashoka confirmed, "I heard something about a group gaining ground in Ishigakure, is it because of that?"
Gojun nodded to his guess.
"An unnamed ground of rogue ninja, they're the ones who got my boy's presumably. Rumors have it that it is a cult of some sorts. It's strange. A cult without the backing of a daimyo creating order in a nefariously lawless land. Iwa and Suna have both tried multiple times only to fail. And now, this cult, out of nowhere is waging war against the Land of Birds"
Earlier this year, Ashoka remembered, there had been an attempted assassination on the Daimyo of the Land of Birds, perhaps that was also done by the same people, he wondered.
"Best case scenario, they fight it out within themselves, whoever wins maintains the current status quo with other powers and we would just need to rename the maps a bit", Gojun continued.
It wasn't this simple. Ishigakure was the Land of Earth's buffer against invasions, same as the Land of Birds for Land of Wind. If conflict were to spill into the major countries in such a politically volatile environment, it would result in a colossal disaster.
"Worst case scenario", Ashoka stated out loud, "A Great War", to which Gojun merely nodded.
"Bah, rogues and mysterious groups! It's the same thing as Amegakure and the Akatsuki as they call themselves. Well, I don't care either way, if they wanna fight, I won't have them buying weapons from anyone but me!"
Gojun's true frustration with the whole matter was not war, that was a great opportunity for profit, but rather that his competitor had actually snagged his share is what annoyed him the most.
"So, your concern is the armory being sold in the Land of Birds", Ashoka confirmed.
"Yeah!" the dragon huffed, "Remember the incident back in the spring?"
Ashoka nodded. Earlier in the year, Gojun had suffered major damages because of a leakage of confidential information with a client.
"There's definitely a rat, kid, in MY clan, and I need to exterminate it. I had asked you to look into it back then, did you find anything about it in your own network?"
Ashoka recounted that Gojun had indeed asked for that favor, but for some reason buried the issue soon after, so he never had the opportunity to really share the information he had gotten.
"I did not find if it was a person from the Hachurui or not, but the leak itself was isolated to the southern pipelines, and as you know, sold to your competitor in Sunagakure. The operatives did note that the company began dealing with a mysterious group, all wearing a strange jacket with chains and green stripes. They had no information on this group, but that might change soon, I can let you know more later as I find out", Ashoka detailed.
Gojun's head turned in introspection.
"Interesting", he paused, "Well, do let me know once you do, I'll be playing my own pieces too to corner the rat".
Ashoka nodded. As the flow of the conversation died down, he reminded himself that he had his own matters with the scroll he had to address.
"Well, Gojun, I need to get going", he stood up to leave, waving to the girls in the distance, "Later, Onee-sans".
But then, he interjected one final reminder for the man who seemed a bit sad at Ashoka's departure,
"Also, before I go, my mission ends at the start of the new year. I hope you haven't forgotten your promise to help with my escape?", Ashoka asked uneasily.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll have my boys to help you cover your ass while you leave".
"Thanks, Gojun", he smiled at the man's waving gesture and shunshin'ed out to the exit of the parlor.
"Stay safe out there, Asho... Daisuke-kun. See ya' later", earning an annoyed look from Ashoka who walked out without giving the snarking reptile a response.
Exhausted, he lazily eyed the scroll and made his way back to his house. His mind raced through the numerous possibilities that this one scroll could hold, but he tried his best to distract himself from meaningless worry.
On his way back, Ashoka simply enjoyed the landscape of Iwa's early morning. Despite all odds, he did, admittedly, catch some attachment for the village in the end. Sure, the scenery was plain, grey and depressing at times with the towers of concrete and the lack of color. It was a stereotype that in Iwa, the sun never shone. If he remembered correctly, it originated from some enemy propaganda dating back to the Second War. It was a slight exaggeration, the sky did shine blue sometimes, but the general color of the village was always shrouded in an unending night. Something which erected an atmosphere as dreary and dry as the rough cage of the arid and boulders that surrounded them. Ashoka thought it was quite fitting for a village whose economic backbone was their mining and infrastructure industry, it was quite literally the lifeline of the whole country.
The people were warm, albeit a little strict in its customs, and held great importance to protecting each other may it be in the mines, the trenches or the demon known as hunger, every soul, no matter Shinobi or not, held the other as a part of their own. One collective being under the Will of Stone. The "Will of Stone", the moral principle of the village's inhabitants was an axiom to always "preserve" and to be unwavering like the grand mountains that plateaued the settlement. The caveat of which was that for a village that honored its ancestors as deified protectors, it often fell prey to their prior grudges and remained conservative when change was necessary. A nation that never forgot was bound to fail; it was one thing to learn from the past, another to constantly dwell on it.
Well, that was what Ashoka had learned in his year and a half in the village.
It will be two years soon, the brown haired boy grimaced as he glanced towards the warm hue of the rising sun. A rush of exhaustion overtook him and he collapsed onto the roof of his apartment building, his eyes meeting the muddy sky. His hands reached for the scroll he had received from Gojun, his heart sinking as he slowly unraveled it, dreading the contents inside.
The scroll contained an order to assist the infiltration of a team of ANBU sent to either rescue or eliminate a Konoha Jonin that was caught by Iwa's forces last night. The purpose was to prevent the leakage of S-Rank information and regain an elite asset of the village, with the priority being to prevent the Shinobi from being run in by the T&I department. Ashoka's role in this mission was simple: divert border security, rendezvous with the ANBU team and direct them to the best route to the T&I, and in case of mission failure, take measures necessary to mitigate damages. In no circumstance was Iwa to find out that Ashoka was an undercover agent or that Konoha was behind this.
What a pain, Ashoka thought. Infiltration and rescuing from one of the most heavily guarded places in the village was no joke, and the lengths Konoha was going with it clearly meant that the information, if leaked, would severely damage the village's image or security, or even worse, prompt a reason for war.
Ashoka's mind ran with possible plans and eventually decided on a few frameworks that would make such a ridiculous mission successful. Underneath those deliberations, Ashoka begged for the day he would be discharged from his spy duties to come sooner.
While Ashoka would undoubtedly be happy to finally resign from the grand stage play of lies and deceit that was the current chapter in his life, he could not help but feel the hollow agony of the potential goodbyes. But it was necessary, after all Ashoka had someone far more important waiting for his return back home. His thoughts drifted back to his brother and the promises he had made.
The boy steeled himself and took it to himself to focus on planning until a curtain of darkness fell in front of his tired eyes and he drifted off to lovely sleep.
AN: Thank you for reading the first chapter of the Age of Shinobi. Please leave a review for any feedback you may have for me. I am passionate about making this story come to a reality so I can promise you semi-regular updates.