Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto in any way and make no claim on its copyright or any characters from the series. Original characters are my own property.
Author's Notes: Suzumebachi just got the heavy end of the hammer dropped on her, but she doesn't really know it yet, so yeah, things keep going.
Comments, yes please, let there be comments!
Other Gifts Continues
Morning arrived with a sickening, twisting, loss of sleep, not waking. Equilibrium receded beneath perception, until all things were in wretched flux. So unfamiliar was the situation it took many long troubled moments for Suzumebachi to gain any understanding her circumstances.
Illness assaulted her with all the weak and contorted feelings familiar to anyone who had ever suffered serious disease, but it was all wrong. Her insides disassembled and every nerve firing with insecurity and demanding attention everywhere, so as to scatter it nowhere, but she was not suffering. Signals coursed through the body, spreading a message of deathly danger, torment, and disruption, but Suzumebachi was hale. Though she could find no focus in the storm of sensation, no nausea assailed her, she felt no pain lying still or when she sat up in bed. Confused and troubled to the edge of panic, she scanned her body hurriedly, searching for some sign to explain all the messages her mind received moment after every endless moment.
Nothing was wrong. Her body was fine, nothing visible was out of place or damaged, she was the same as yesterday. Indeed, objectively she was healthier than she had been in days, for the knot of pain buried behind her eyes had been exhumed completely.
Faced with this incomprehensible situation Suzumebachi dared to stand and get up from the cramped futon where she slept.
A blinding wave of dizziness crashed down upon her, scorching all vision black. Something inside her lurched, tugged, and slid, but then all was still as quickly as the moment began. Normalcy returned with a snap, far quicker than the dizziness of standing when weak should normally be dispelled. All the other strange sensations stopped at once as well, a gate slamming closed upon them, not dribbling off or fading, simply there in one instant of perception and gone the next, as if some switch had been tripped inside her body.
At this point Suzumebachi wondered if she was dreaming, or perhaps if she had drunk a vast quantity of sake the night before. The hard worn mats beneath her feet were thoroughly solid, and the seeping cold from their poor insulation dispelled any illusions of a dream-state. A simple search of memory eliminated the other possibility as well, though Suzumebachi knew she had considered it. Despite her youth she had drowned her sorrows in sake twice before and now considered it a foolish course, never helpful. It had been a serious temptation, however, and Suzumebachi now recalled why she had considered such a course with grave trepidation.
Slipping a thick kimono on to ward off the cold of the mountain morning she left the small barracks-like chamber she shared with three cousins, distant relatives of hers those girls, not friends, and headed to the washroom.
The room was simple, stalls and showers over white tile, all very industrial and lacking in comfort. The whole apartment building was like that, more a barracks than a residence. It was the residence of many young ninja, mostly new chuunin and experienced genin, those ninja old enough to move away from their parents but not yet able to truly afford their own residence. This place was deliberately made available to them for almost nothing, but its comforts were barren, terrible, no one could enjoy living in such a way. Many might have thought it cruel, and perhaps it was in a way, but there was a deliberate psychological pressure exerted through the design. It kept the ninja in this situation devoid of contentment, forcing them to strive for greater abilities so they could command a salary for more tolerable lodging. It took only the promise of cheap isolation to drive adolescent ninja from their parent's comfortable protection, while shame would prevent them from returning. The strategy was not even hidden, Suzumebachi and everyone she knew was fully aware they were being manipulated, but they went along with it for all that, it was a matter of pride.
As part of the impersonal nature of the washroom one side was devoted half to sinks, strung together in a single slab of stone, and above those the wall was converted into flat, impersonal mirrors. It was impossible to turn to that side of the room and not see one's own reflection, as Suzumebachi did now.
She gasped audibly when her image appeared before her.
The memory had been shielded by the haze of the morning, and by the far more troubling sensation of discomfort she had awoken to, so it had not struck her until now. It hit hammer hard from that image when it did. There was no mistaking it, her reflection showed clear in the pale but florid light of the washroom, the black image of the dryinid traced into her skull.
When she had seen the image graven on her brow the evening before Suzumebachi had believed it would shortly fade, as seal markings traced upon the skin commonly did, but it was totally clear, a tattoo emblazoning her with permanent marking, visible to all.
Embers of anger clustered inside the chuunin's core, stoked, and burst into fiery outrage. The scarring sense of violation was converted straight into anger, and Suzumebachi's fist slammed down onto the hard stone countertop. Again and again she struck, each blow not dissipating her anger but feeding it further for her gaze never wavered, staring into the image marking her now and forevermore. A dull rumbling crescendo built within the stone, until it rang with power beneath the force of her blows, stronger and stronger.
The stone's counterstroke would stop her. The rumbling force beat counter tempo to Suzumebachi's strokes, but not perfectly, and eventually both reactions peaked at once, so the counter bent itself into her hand even as she pounded it. The resulting pain from the meeting of forces shocked her back to rationality and invoked dead silence on her.
Embarrassment streaming from her in waves, her eyes dashed about the room, but no one was present. Luck, or perhaps mercy was with her at the moment. It was early, but the schedules of ninja were unpredictable, it was only chance prevented another from observing her worthless display.
Breathing deeply to calm her, the embattled Kamizuru recalled she must meet with the Tsuchikage by dawn. Making the old man wait was not to be contemplated, though she would have given much in that moment for some form of retribution, she knew she had no right to demand such as thing, and no chance at all of receiving it. One of the few valuable things Suzumebachi's father, a man she regarded as largely incompetent, had taught her was to never dwell on the impossible or unachievable, for then you will never reach anything. The thick glass window of this room revealed nothing of the outside save the first glimmers of light, there was little enough time.
A shower was wise, and would be calming. Hanging her kimono on a hook she got to it quickly.
Relaxing and blissfully warm water, fed from hot pools deep beneath the snow-capped mountains, slid over Suzumebachi's body, and it drained some of the tension from her. With deliberate casualness she forced herself to avoid touching her marked forehead. The tattoo could not be scrubbed away, even a child knew that, and touching it constantly would make her appear foolish, unworthy. Catching her arms creeping up anyway, she came to a deliberate decision. She would not be afraid of this mark. It was part of her now, and if she had not asked for it, there was no removing. The black design would have to be worn with full acceptance, even pride. Yes, pride, that was the correct approach, she decided. It was bestowed on her by the Tsuchikage himself, a designation marking her for a great purpose, it would not be questioned, nor would it be kept secret, she would wear her bangs pulled apart as always, baring the mark for everyone to see. It would be alright, so she told herself. It was small comfort at least that the dryinid was indeed a visually impressive insect, and the Tsuchikage's rendition was a powerful work or art, with a full creature folded into the presentation of a single color. There was a part of Suzumebachi that would have considered the tattoo a beautiful thing if only it occupied a less challenging location.
Clean and with her decisions made the wasp ninja grabbed the set of clothing she kept in the slot marked by her name and made ready for the day. Her outfit was simple enough, a dark purple skirt reaching not quite to her knees and sleeveless top all of one piece, tied about the waist with a simple band of yellow cloth and complemented by purple stocking and free hanging sleeves for warmth and protection, serviceable wear of functional quality, nothing more. She could not afford to spend what little free funds she had on clothing.
Her ninja gear necessitated a return to her room, quickly and silently slipping in and out to gather the few ouches of scrolls, shuriken, and other tools without waking the one cousin currently in the village, a young girl who slumbered yet, recovering from a tough mission.
The bedrooms and washroom were not the only industrialized portion of the building, the whole structure was blocky, squared off within the boundaries of a larger triangular frame to allow snow to slide away freely. It left no interesting nooks or places to hide, but made the building solid and warm, of key importance in brutal mountain winters. The entrance was out under the sloping roof, and Suzumebachi retrieved her hard soled sandals and left with quick, deliberate strides. The heavy door slammed behind her as it always did.
Autumn was proceeding, and it came on fast in this high valley, but there was still little time until the sun rose. It was obvious to Suzumebachi that she had slept later than usual. She was disappointed, and had to pull her right arm back to her side to avoid fingering the tattoo. It seemed likely to have done something to her beyond leaving an image, but she had no idea what it was and there was nothing to be done about it now. There was also no time to go and check on her hives, normally her first action of the day. That brought a frown when she realized it, but there was nothing to be done. The insects would have to fare for themselves for one morning at least. They could handle it of course, in fact the greatest danger was that they would harm something else, not that anything would imperil the tenacious and dangerous specimens. Suzumebachi could call her servants to her at any time of course, and it made hardly any difference whether or not they were across the village or hidden among expandable folds in the back of her garments and sleeves for their speed of arrival. Even so the disruption in the usual routine bothered her. More than her parents and siblings those insects were her family, the beings she was closest to in the world, and she hated to neglect them.
There was nothing to be done however, she could only remind herself to be sure to visit the hives later in the day.
The meadow was not far, but the wasp ninja hurried, her quick pace serving many purposes. It warmed her in the cold morning air, it ensured that she would not risk lateness before the Tsuchikage's summons, and most importantly of all it carried her swiftly past the surprised stares of those few people about at this hour when they saw her face. She could feel her emotions rising toward an outburst with each consecutive pair of eyes, and the explosion must be put off.
In the dim predawn light the alpine meadow was gray and pale, empty of the vibrancy of the day before. The cold had caused it to fall asleep, as if it were a single being, and the stirrings of the morning began only now. Suzumebachi could hear them, the sounds of birds and mammals, but also the chirp of crickets and the buzzing of flies, all waiting for the coming of light and heat to energize them for the new day.
Suzumebachi stood waiting for a few moments, her mind strangely blank despite its earlier turmoil. Something in her knew an explanation was coming; patience was the method of the moment. The Tsuchikage would not delay with the likes of her, the fate he had inscribed into her would be revealed soon enough.
With a suddenness only known to those who lived in the mountains the sun burst above the barriers of the peaks and bright yellow light flooded the world. Long streams of color flooded across the field in streaks and the world seemed to explode into life behind their passage, motion and color blossoming in every direction.
Above it all could be heard a clear sound, solemn and forceful, drawing all attention to its source. "So it begins."
The Tsuchikage stood on the east edge of the meadow.