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Inari
Moving Forward
Inari grasped the straps on his backpack, eyes set ahead.
The sounds of the dock around him were familiar, as was the scent of the seawater and the fog that clung to the air. There were fishermen around him, hauling their equipment out to their vessels and pushing off the dock, and tradesmen bringing ashore their wares. It was the biggest dock in Wave, located on the east coast, perfect for receiving imports and departing for foreign shores.
He steeled his resolve. He refused to think about what lay behind him, what he'd walked away from.
His mother was dead, his grandfather was dead, and to celebrate, the village named the bridge that caused it after Inari.
There was nothing left for him there.
Inari shook his head and walked towards a man who stood by a small boat on the edge of the dock, looking bored. He was an older man, with shaggy grey hair and a beard. Inari hated how much the man reminded him of Tazuna. It almost made Inari stop and look for somebody else, but he kept walking, right up to the man.
"'Scuse me," Inari said. "Can you take me somewhere?"
The man looked around, as if startled, then turned his gaze down to find Inari. "Eh? Where're your parents, boy?"
"Not here."
"Well, I ain't gonna help you then."
"What? Why not?"
The man scoffed. "What if your parents come lookin' for ya? Huh? I'm not gonna—"
"They're dead. They won't be lookin' for me."
The man cut stopped short. He sighed and reached up to scratch his head. "That so," he muttered. "Fine. Where you wanna go?"
Inari slipped off his bag and pulled a map out of it, a location circled in runny black ink.
"Wha—are you insane? Did you hit your head on the way here, boy? You don't wanna go there!'
"Take me there," Inari said. He reached in again and pulled out a plump bag of coins. He didn't know how much was in there, or how much the trip would cost, but he figured it had to be enough. "I've got money."
"That's not the point," the man said. "Kirigakure is no place for a child like you."
"I don't care!"
"They'll eat you alive. That place'll be your grave, boy."
"So what?" Inari shouted. He felt a wetness on his cheeks—at some point during the conversation, he'd started crying, but he didn't know when. "I told ya, I don't care!"
People were starting to stare at them, their voices now loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of the dock.
The man scowled. "Fine, fine. You wanna throw a hissy fit? Fine. I'll take you there." He stooped down and got to work on unhooking the boat from the dock. He paused, long enough to give Inari a piercing stare. "But don't tell me I didn't warn ya."
Inari sniffed and reached up to wipe the tears from his face. "Whatever, you geezer."
If he died, then he died. Inari meant it when he said that he didn't care. He had to do this.
Kirigakure was the only village he could get to. It was close. He walked half a day from his village on a straight road, and the lady who gave him directions in the village the docks were attached to said that Kirigakure was the same. A straight walk from where he'd dock. She said that they'd find him, and he believed her.
He'd find Kirigakure and he'd make them teach him to be a ninja, no matter what it took.
Inari refused to be defenceless ever again.