Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of the concepts, blah, blah, blah.
A/N: Another day, another chapter. This one came out earlier than expected, surprisingly. I wasn't really planning on releasing this before another chapter of Umbra Witch, but the idea for this chapter slammed into me and wouldn't leave 'til I wrote it down. It was a tad harder than the prologue to write as well, simply because I wanted to get this as close to perfection as I could.
For my four fans and future readers, this one is for you.
So, here it is, the first epic chapter in the Rikudō Sennin saga.
Rikudō Sennin
Chapter 1: We are, but human
Throughout the night, Hitoshi's thoughts were tumultuous. Continuously, he wracked his brain for possible ideas. He wanted... no... needed techniques to impress people, to convert disbelievers into followers of Ninshū. His constant, agitated pacing carved a rut into the soft dirt beneath his geta, the taunting jingle of his khakkhara ringing in his ears, mocking his tormented mind.
It seemed chakra was a fickle mistress, but one the white-haired sage was only too willing to tame.
For now, the frustrated sennin slept and dreamed, but even in his own mind, he found no comfort, his tormented thoughts continuing while he slept. He knew he needed to develop these techniques or his chance of purging the chaos from the land was nonexistent. He needed a single technique to prove his ramblings weren't the product of a crazed soul. Even during his dreams, he continued to pick apart all he knew about this wondrous source of energy, trying to develop a method to pull chakra into the visible spectrum. Still, he continued to come up blank.
Thus, the once-monk tossed and turned all throughout the night, a cold sweat drenching his forehead; even his dreams offered little comfort to the white-haired man.
'W... What am I missing?' he roared inside his mind, suddenly jolting awake and sitting up, throwing his sleeping bag aloft, his breath coming out in wheezing, panting gasps, fingers grasping his forehead tightly.
"What... am... I... missing?" he roared into the inky darkness of the night. There wasn't a single star glimmering in the nighttime sky, almost as if the world was mocking the tormented hermit. He slammed a single fist into the soft dirt below him, repeatedly, one after another, his other hand joining moments later, his thoughts tormented, swirling inside his mind.
He knew sleep wouldn't come easily, even as his fists pounded in a steady rhythm against the innocent earth, his uneasy thoughts fueling his rage... his anger at himself for being unable to solve his dilemma. He knew he was being much too hard on himself, but years of failure drove his mounting anger to new heights. The constant rhythm of his relentless fists grew more and more unsteady the longer he allowed his frustration to go on unchecked, the fist-sized holes in the earth growing in depth as he did.
What was he missing? He wanted to decipher this nerve-wracking problem. He needed to solve this frustrating dilemma. World-weary souls and disbelievers spread across the land counted on him - Takeda Hitoshi - to cease this senseless fighting and constant, warring era once and for all.
"Damnit... damnit... damnit!" he exclaimed, burying both fists into the fertile earth beneath him, bent over, exhausted breaths passing through his lips in panting gasps.
Sleep wouldn't come again to Hitoshi this night.
In the morning, a weary Hitoshi found himself walking through the still forest, eyes half-lidded and staff clinking as he walked, his thoughts still on his current dilemma.
Oh, how it tormented him. He was, but one man, trying to bring the warring countries to salvation through an untested and un-followed religion. Exhaustion started to overcome the world-weary fellow. He hadn't solved his pressing issue in the few hours since his erupting anger, quelled for now. He observed the world through the mystical Rin'negan, watching the endless cacophony of green swirling throughout the trees and the vegetation surrounding him.
It was a beautiful and calming sight. Massaging his temples with a free hand, the once-monk sighed and looked to the endless blue skies, trying to seek the answers through the white clouds lazily drifting by. Unfortunately, the white fluff offered no solace to the tormented chakra user. He felt like he was on the brink of an epiphany. He was the first and only user of chakra that existed. If it was a different source of energy, perhaps he could bounce ideas off another soul until this pressing issue solved itself through intelligent discussion.
He stopped, dragging his palm downward and releasing a breath. Retracting his hand, he stared at the calm, blue chakra running throughout his fingers; before he discovered how to mould chakra, nothing appeared. He could see chakra in a visible spectrum due to his gift, but that was it. Other energies he remained ignorant toward. He would've remained blissfully unaware of chi and reiatsu had he not trained as a monk in his teenage tears. One of the final lessons was to learn how to harness these energies, but neither he nor centuries of past monks - much more experienced them him - tried to combine the two energies. While both physical and mental energies were powerful, chakra was ten-fold and much more potent. It was like night and day to him.
'Think, Hitoshi, think! What are you missing?' he pondered, running his free hand through the silver spikes adorning his head. 'Hundreds of thousands of lives depend on your religion. You must solve this dilemma,' he thought, trying to coax himself with words, but it was all in vain. No answers leapt to the forefront of his mind. He didn't want to preach without proof - he, Takeda Hitoshi - afraid of yet another failure. It was amusing, especially considering he was much too brash in his youth like most men of this era were. People respected strength and money. Religion was an after-thought to most, a sad truth of the world and preaching an unknown, untested faith was a recipe to fail, but still, he tried. He preached, he ranted and raved until his face was blue and this throat ached in protest. He was thrown and banned from more towns than he could count, but still, he continued undeterred.
Until his latest failure, at least. Seven long, wandering years and hundreds of failures would break even the strongest of men and Hitoshi wasn't an exception to this rule. His faith was strong, his facts straight and honest, but still, people reeled in disbelief.
He felt like laughing, but he held the mirthless noise in his throat.
What could he do? What could he do? What could he do!
He felt responsible for the countless deaths plaguing the country due to the constant war permeating throughout the land. An unfounded responsibility - to be sure - but one he still felt he owed.
Suddenly, he pivoted and deflected the rather shabby arrow shot toward his person, the flimsy wooden shaft breaking easily underneath the metal of his khakkhara.
'Bandits,' he bemoaned, resting the butt of his ringed staff against the soft forest floor. Bandits, unfortunately, happened to be commonplace in this war torn landscape. Many people lost their homes, families, friends, jobs... It was one of the plagues he wished to banish from the world, but he had little confidence he'd be successful in unifying the entire world and purging war completely. Some truly wished for the constant conflict, the rush of adrenaline that flowed throughout their bodies when engaged in fighting or harrowing situations. It was fortunate he wasn't defenseless, his martial prowess was almost second to none.
"What do you want, bandits? As you can see, I have no belongings," said the sennin, arms stretched wide, voluminous sleeves displaying nothing hidden inside their depths. A mirthless chuckle was his answer.
"Monk, leave the staff and necklace and you shall leave this forest... alive," threatened the unseen bandit. Another arrow whistled through the stillness of the air, the wizened monk brushing the flimsy fletching to the side with another effortless gesture.
"I have no conflict with you, my fellow man. I'm a pious, peace-seeking savoir," he replied, paying little heed to his threat. "I wish to purge the eternal chaos from this land and to unite the people underneath my banner, the religion of Ninshū - the Shinobi Sect," he finished, tapping the butt-end of his metalwork against the forest floor. "Perhaps you, my unseen friend, wish to convert?" he wondered, but received a humorless chuckle for his efforts.
"Noble, monk, but futile. You must realize the chaos which engulfs the land is man-made?" voiced the unseen man. Hitoshi nodded, weary eyes glancing toward the general direction of the voice.
"Of course, my friend, but the world needs a savoir. This... war will drive the world into utter ruin!" exclaimed the weary warrior. "I've seen what it does to families! Fathers clashing with sons, brothers ruthlessly murdering mothers due to differing ideals... I want to save these weary souls! I want to deliver heartfelt words to the exhausted people of this land!" ranted the former monk, khakkhara slashing through the still air before him. "Can you not agree, my good fellow? You sound like an intelligent man. Become my first follower, please. I'm on a breakthrough, I just know it... Just a few more days and I'll have tangible proof that chakra exists!" he finished.
"Chakra?" guwaffed the hidden man. "Chakra? You're mad, monk! You hail yourself as a savior, but instead, you've been consumed by the very demons you seek to banish!" roared the man. Hitoshi narrowed his rippled eyes in distaste.
"Another disbeliever?" he sounded amused now. "Leave, my friend. I have no wish to harm the people I wish to deliver from chaos," he finished, dipping his head in a stiff form of respect. Suddenly, another arrow whistled through the air and again, it was batted aside with little effort. However, a quick pivot and Hitoshi found his staff locked with a katana, standard issue. He was reminded of the comfortable weight of his own looped through his obi, hung from his left hip. "I see. Cunning, but wasted, my friend," he said, amused.
"Be wary, monk. Cunning isn't my only strength," replied the grizzled man, sporting unkempt hazel-hued hair, complete with week-old stubble and the beginnings of a beard on his chin.
Hitoshi quirked a brow in response. "Oh? What else?" quizzed the spiky-haired monk, prompting the burly bandit to press forward with his katana, the deadlock ending, the wizened monk pressed back a few inches. "I see," he mused, unworried still. His opponent possessed more bulk, but then again, he wasn't enhancing himself with chakra, the single greatest advantage he had over the unruly road thief. The unnamed man disengaged his deadlock and retreated, but the ex-monk stood his ground, brandishing the ringed weapon toward the bandit.
"One more chance, monk. Surrender the belongings you do possess and I won't needlessly spill your blood," prompted the man, drawing another quirked brow from the hermit.
"Surely you jest, my friend. I have no quarrel with you," explained the Ninshū founder. His response was an amused chuckle from the burly bandit.
"Your funeral, monk," he said, rolling his shoulders. Suddenly, he sprinted forward; the distance between the two wasn't more than a few meters and thus, the man closed the distance in seconds. Hitoshi met his opponent once again with his khakkhara, an uneasy grinding noise filling the once tranquil forest. Another deadlock.
"You cannot win, my friend. Please leave," offered the wizened monk. Quirking his eyebrow amusedly, the unkempt fellow pressed forward, succeeding in pushing Hitoshi a few inches back.
"It seems that I'm stronger then you, monk!" crowed the grizzled man, a twisted grin splitting his features. Suddenly, the deadlock was broken, Hitoshi pulling his staff away with a sudden jerk, off balancing his opponent, which the sennin took immediate advantage of, slamming the butt of his metalwork staff against the man's gut, forcefully extracting the air from his lungs.
"URK!" he gasped, but Hitoshi didn't allow his recovery. He pressed forward, jamming the blunted end of his staff against the grizzled bandit's stomach again, winding the man. Hitoshi's sudden sweep caught the bandit by surprise, ending with the man laying on his back, greedily gulping in breaths of air, struggling to his feet. He froze, however, when he saw the point of the monk's sword against his throat, muddy brown eyes focused on the deadly weapon.
'I... I didn't even see him unsheath his weapon!' he exclaimed, but never once moved his eyes from the sharpened blade.
"As I said, please leave," said Hitoshi once more. Now, the unruly bandit had no choice, but to comply with the monk's wishes. A faint nod of his opponent's head and Hitoshi removed his blade, though he didn't sheath it. "Please, rethink your career choices. Criminal actions only lead to unrest and bad karma," he explained. Suddenly, his assaulter went into a bellowing laugh.
"What? Do you expect me to turn to honest work?" he questioned mockingly, controlling his sudden outburst. "Look around you, monk. Our world is crumbling at it's very foundation! Another few years and nothing will be left," he explained hauntingly, though the sennin had already reached this conclusion. Unnoticed, the grip on his staff tightened, knuckles turning white. "You seek to unite the world through peace and an unfounded religion? In these war-torn times?" he guwaffed. "A futile effort, monk," he finished, mockingly saluting the monk. "Good luck wasting your precious time on people whom don't wish to be saved," he laugh mockingly. He pivoted on his heel and disappeared into the thick vegetation of the forest, his taunting laugh ringing in the sennin's ears until it disappeared entirely.
Was he right?
Was he simply wasting his time? Did these people wished not to be saved? Sheathing his katana, the tortured man found his rock-hard belief's shaken.
Continuing deeper into the forest toward his next destination, his thoughts turned tumultuous once again.
Did the people wish not to be saved...?
A/N: Whew, the first chapter... complete! That was definitely a doozy. I wanted to make it believeable. As the title says, Hitoshi - while godlike in comparison with normal humans - is still human. He still has his doubts, his fears, his own belief's. I'm trying to convey these in a believable sense. He's been on the road for years upon years now and he still hasn't succeeded in converting a single follower to his religion. He's disheartened and tormented by this fact.
Well, that's all I have to say for this chapter. Umbra Witch is on a slight hiatus for now. I seem to have encountered writers block, unfortunately. I know where I want the chapter to go, but I just can't seem to write to descriptively to my satisfaction.
Again, expect another update in a month or so. It's hard writing almost completely original material and once again, this is a hobby. Chapter length, well, fluxuates. I end a chapter when I believe the chapter feels right to end. Sometimes, that might be after two thousand words, sometimes, it might happen after five. It's all circumstance.
'til next time,
Bijuu.