.
天逆毎
Ama no Zako
.
Learning Phase: Realm of Hell
地獄道
Jigokudou
"Learning without thought means labour lost; thought without learning is perilous."
- Old Chinese Proverb
Another secluded outpost is attacked. Roughly half his class are recruited for the battlefield. They are cannon fodder.
Izuna isn't selected this time. But Madara is.
.
.
.
Two: Absurd Wisdom
There is no one he can truly test his skills against. Madara has left for the front lines, and Izuna's younger brothers are just starting their ninja training.
This is boring, he thinks as he throws shuriken at the training post. It's always less interesting when the class numbers cleave into half because it usually stays that way. Only some people come back from the front lines. The rest die to protect the clan.
He is grateful for the sacrifices. It's all for the greater good, of course.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Of course, Madara will come back. He's strong, so he will definitely be fine.
Thunk.
Definitely.
Thunk. Thunk.
A perfect line. His aim is better today. Feeling confident, he readies more shuriken in his hands to try the harder techniques—
"Impossible! A mere child won't have enough control, lest enough chakra to do anything you're saying."
Izuna turns to observe the quarrelling duo. It happens often enough, where that girl would speak up, out of the blue, and disagree with whatever the teacher says. She would spout outlandish ideas, treasonous words that sent the instructor into a rage.
"But, sensei! Think about the potential of this idea—see, by compressing chakra into the thinnest disk, but it needs to be rotating, you see!" She gesticulates wildly, to the teacher's chagrin.
"Azami, stop. You wouldn't know where to start with something like that," the man sighs.
She continues on, unperturbed. "…We would combine fire and wind transformations to amplify the technique—maybe ten, no twenty people would work on this and whoosh! It cuts through and burns through the enemies!"
The man folds his arms, resigned. "Azami…"
"We need a decisive technique, a one-hit-kill! Something no one can stop, because of course we wouldn't let go of our stupid pride and we kill and kill and kill—".
"Azami! Stop this nonsense!" he barks at her, an edge in his voice.
She stands her ground, defiant. "Nonsense?"- she snarls- "People are dying out there! You know what the clan stands for, after you take away the fancy jutsu and the Sharingan? You're murderers! This is a clan of mur—"
Slap. It resounds through the air, and Izuna winces as she falls to the ground from the force of the hit.
"You will not slander the clan any more. Our cause is just."
Just? Not exactly. Izuna isn't so sure about that proclamation. He turns away from the argument that should be finishing up soon.
Unexpectedly, the last words are Azami's.
"Mark my words, sensei. This clan is done for! One day, the Uchiha will cause its own downfall…and we'll all be going to hell, together!" she shrieks.
The pattering of her footsteps gets closer, and she runs past him like a whirlwind.
Her words resonate with him, an ill-omened projection of the future.
.
.
.
Izuna finds her sulking at the edge of the compound, in a deserted clearing. She doesn't react to his presence, even when he stands right next to her. She just keeps laying there, face in the grass.
A cool breeze tickles his face. He crouches beside her.
"Maybe you should get the fireball jutsu right first before you try other things," he suggests amiably.
Azami groans in response. "Shut up."
A beat of silence passes. "…Also, when you were practicing with the wooden sword, your grip was horribly wrong. You were wielding it like a spear—"
"Shut up, Izuna! I'm not compatible with swords. And besides, no one cares."
He doesn't rise to the bait. "How'd you know it's me?"
Her shoulders slump. "Only you would be annoyingly smug. And once you got close enough, I knew it was you."
"I'm not smug," he replies passively.
"Yes, you are. You and your brother are both smug little demon spawns." She raises her head, high enough for him to see the angry red mark on her left cheek.
Izuna smiles. "Is that your roundabout way of complimenting us?"
"No."- she sits up- "Fine, alright stop looking at me like that! I'll admit that you two are talented. Can you leave me alone now? I can never get any peace and quiet," she grumbles.
He hugs his knees closer to his body. "Peace," he mutters. "Why did you say all that…before?"
Another breeze picks up, this time a cold caress. He watches her closely.
Azami shrinks into herself. "Nothing. I just got really angry, okay? When you bottle up emotions, it tends to explode—why am I even…what are you, my therapist?" she scowls.
He shakes his head. "I just think the same."
"…What?"
He stands, brushing fallen leaves and bits of grass off his pants. "If we lose to the Senju, we'll probably all die. The only way to live is to fight in a battle started by the people before us. So sometimes, you need to think about the bigger picture. Fighting isn't a choice, it's a must. If I need to kill, to murder…to protect my brothers and my family, I will fight to my last breath. "
The gentle admonishment makes her flush in shame. She shouldn't have spoken to the teacher like that, nor have treated the sacrifices of the dead as meaningless. They died for the clan, and that wish at least should be respected.
Chastened, Azami lowers her gaze to her feet. "I understand," – her eyes are unyielding –"But I won't die for the clan like some blind follower. I'll die on my own terms. I'll die laughing in my enemy's face—be it death or fate or the will of god."
She pats his shoulder. "Though…I think it's sad that a five year old is telling me how he's going to kick the bucket."
"I'm seven." He removes her hand with two fingers, treating it like it's a particularly nasty germ.
"Sure you are."
"I'm not that much younger than you!"
"You keep believing that."
And their good-natured banter makes him temporarily forget about the war, about Madara on the front lines, and all the terrors of the world that haunt him at night.
Izuna's dreams are saturated with terror.
Day after day, the faces of his enemies: adults and children alike haunt him; clear as the moment he killed them. He wonders if they also had families—a brother, a sister, a mother, a lover…
However, no shred of remorse can be spared, otherwise it would be his cold corpse on the battlefield.
He sees his worst fear—Madara and father and all his brothers fall, lifeless. He sees the Uchiha clan in shambles, his home in ruins. He sees death.
A single thought pervades his mind. I want to live!
Even when the world burns to ashes in front of him, he wants to live.
Disgusted with himself, the nightmare morphs into one where is falling and falling and falling…a never ending plunge into the dark unknown. But somehow, he knows.
He knows he is falling into a living hell.
.
.
.
Izuna wakes up.
.
.
.
"No lessons?"
"Yes, Izuna-kun. Most of the able-bodied shinobi are busy now—either on a mission…or fighting," his new caretaker explains, her youthful face drawn tight at the mention of battle. "So, clan training is put on hold for now."
He brings the bowl of miso soup to his lips, devouring the hearty breakfast with enthusiasm. "Normal lessons as well?"
"That's right,"-she gestures at his recently emptied rice bowl- "Seconds?"
"Thank you, Kozue-san." Taking his bowl back, he notices the emptiness of the dining room. "Where are Shinsei and Jinrou?"
"Your brothers are in tutoring now at the dormitory I'm in charge of. I've introduced them to a very bright teacher who excels in academic subjects," Kozue explains, peaking his interest. She smiles, speaking gently. Izuna is the age her son would be now, if he were still alive.
She brushes the painful thoughts away. It wouldn't do, to be sad on such a beautiful morning. She catches his gaze.
"Would you like to join them?"
Izuna stares as he slide open the door mid-way. "You."
Azami stares back, the bruise on her face still unhealed and prominent. She places down a calligraphy brush at the interruption. "Yes. Me. Is there anything you need?"
The situation takes him by surprise. For once he is at a loss for words.
Amused, she beckons him in to sit at the low table. "Here for some enlightenment?"
He does not answer, instead noting two unoccupied places opposite him. The piles of work with messy arithmetic scrawls and childish handwriting made it obvious who had just been in here.
He sighs softly, finding the ability to speak again. "Shinsei and Jinrou?"
"Out playing in the main courtyard," Azami replies as she resumes writing. "They've been here for most of the morning, and they were going to find their 'beloved' older brother, but I think they forgot about you."
He folds his arms onto the table, getting comfortable. "Figures. Children have short memory spans."
"You're a child too, you know."
"By clan standards, I'm an adult," – he quips back – "I heard that you finally got the fireball jutsu right before Sensei left. You kind of count as an adult too, now. Congratulations."
She still has that apathetic look on her face, which annoys him somewhat. "That's not a good thing"- she says softly – "The older we are, the narrower our minds become."
He finds himself asking her to speak more before he realises what he is doing.
A glint in her eye, she continues to talk. "Even if I read all the scrolls our clan has, it won't be enough."
"Why?"
"That's because we're cooped up here, in this forest. We're bound by our hate for the Senju. We're constricted by the ninja code—whatever that may be" – a longing glance towards the sky outside – "I want to know things, I want to see the world with my own eyes before I believe everything someone tells me. I want to discover what's beyond the boundaries of jutsu, of chakra, of ninjas."
Suddenly a little embarrassed, she glances at him. "Don't you ever feel like that?"
Izuna tilts his head in thought. "Well. No, not really. I'm satisfied with knowing that the Sage of Six Paths created jutsu. That's enough."
Azami jumps to her feet, no longer embarrassed by her ramblings. "What about travelling? Aren't you ever curious about the world outside this forest?"
"People sometimes go on long-term missions," he shrugs.
A moment of calm passes before the storm.
"No! No, no, no! That's not travelling, that doesn't count! I've heard about something called the 'ocean', about mountains that spit flaming water, about people that can turn into water and use flaming water jutsu…or, going a little closer to us, the rumour that there's a Senju kid that can grow plants from nothing…doesn't that pique your curiosity, not even a little bit?"
He shakes his head. "The Uchiha clan will still be the best. We have the Sharingan."
"Tut-tut, Izuna. Too much pride will cause a fall. People like you shouldn't rely too much on the Sharingan," she groans, somehow irking him with her tone.
"You talk as if you won't awaken it" – he stops, noticing her disheartened face – "What's wrong?"
Azami sits down slowly, slumping. "I don't think I'll get the Sharingan. Not everyone awakens it. And it usually corresponds with talent."
"But there's still a chance. You're still an Uchiha."
She frowns. "Half. My dad was an outsider."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"He's dead," she adds.
"Yeah."
Izuna clears his throat awkwardly, not sure how to deal with this situation.
"Well, now that you've said it. I can see the dissimilarities." He motions at her. "Your hair and your eyes are a different shade. It's subtle, but once you know where to look…it's as clear as day."
"Don't point it out," Azami grumbles self-consciously. "Even though I want to get out of this place—I still want to feel like belong. I wish my dad was an Uchiha…Maybe, just maybe…" she trails off, her previous high spirits thoroughly muted.
He cannot offer any words of comfort. He is torn between abhorring the idea of an Uchiha procreating with an outsider and pitying her. Both are bad options.
Silence. He says nothing, instead avoiding her piercing stare.
Tap!
…It's the only sound he hears before Kozue appears in the room suddenly, confirming his suspicions about her being a kunoichi (she moves too fluidly, to gracefully, too silently to just be a caretaker).
Her announcement makes him spring to his feet, all thoughts about Azami's parents forgotten. It forces him to rush out towards the main courtyard, barefoot and excited.
"Madara is back! The mission was a success!"
Relief surges through every pore in his body, as he runs to his brother who has returned, alive and well. He dashes towards him with vigor, to welcome home his rival…his family.
Madara wears his right arm in a sling. Apparently, he broke his wrist, a few fingers and his arm by punching someone too hard. The medics healed him, but a week of healing is needed for full recuperation.
Uchiha medics aren't as skilled as the Senju ones, Izuna thinks begrudgingly. So, no sparring. But he keeps going back to that dormitory for orphans—to debate, to discuss and just to talk with that girl. It's interesting, the nonsense she's spouting.
He does learn some more history and mathematics…and sits through her long tirades about the lack of literature because of...'the segregation of all the clans'. He only bears her tangents because he acknowledges the capabilities of her mind—where, despite its absurdities, is probably legions ahead of his and Madara's combined. It becomes tedious to listen to her though, whilst his younger brothers spar in the courtyard, free and unbothered by wordy speeches.
So he brings Madara along to make Madara suffer the lectures with him. Misery loves company, they say.
It had been a good idea at the time, but…
"You look terrible." The first sentence Madara says to Azami isn't the best greeting.
She purses her lips. "You're as impudent as always. I see, even a broken arm won't get you to stay in line,"- she sneers – "Maybe I should break the other one."
"As if you could, you're weaker than me," his (sometimes idiotic) brother scoffs back.
"Even an average ninja won't lose to a talented cripple."
Madara snaps at the bait dangling in front of him. "I would never lose to some half—"
Izuna claps his hands loudly to diffuse the tension. "Okay, okay! Well, everyone's here now for the enlightening lesson. Azami, won't you take a seat? Madara, you too. Look at Shinsei and Jinrou, they're so quiet, aren't they?"
Both younger boys beam at the eldest brother. Subdued, Madara ruffles their hair with a hand before sitting down next to Azami. They glare at each other for a moment, deciding that a fight isn't worth it.
She hands back their work from yesterday, giving Madara a worn, bounded book."Read that, Madara. You can't write with that sling, anyway," Azami says civilly.
Izuna nods his head in approval at how she is finally acting more like her age.
"…the devil spawns have multiplied, and now they're all here in my haven of peace and quiet. My life is ruined."
Not quite as mature then, he retracts his judgement in a flash. Sliding his gaze towards Madara's, his older brother remains strangely introspective and agreeable. It is the youngest in the room that speaks, instead.
"Not everyone," Jinrou says solemnly, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. "Takama's not here."
Ah, yes. Takama. Who could forget poor Takama?
"Takama's dead!" Shinsei blurts out loudly. "The bad Senjus got him and mummy in a raid!"
True, true, all that is true. The ugly truth.
A shadow passes over his heart at the thought of that harsh reality. Somber, Izuna clasps his hands in his lap. Madara is still silent. Silently raging.
Azami is watching them in cold scrutiny. Her observant stare has never unnerved him until now.
Madara breaks the stillness first.
"…I tried to keep them safe, but I couldn't protect them."
Izuna bows his head in agreement. His mother and Takama's death can still cause an ache in his heart, a hole in his soul that could never heal. A wound that always bleeds.
"We are never safe," Azami replies insightfully. "Not now, not here. Never."
Never. She is right. They could never be safe.
Not now or in the bleak-looking future…not here, in this living hell.
Never.
つづく
End notes
Well. This chapter had to be cut into two; otherwise it wouldn't make as much sense. It's a sort of follow-up to the first one. I try to build on each chapter, to weave the storyline properly.
Anyway, the foreshadowing has finally started. There'll also be tonnes next chapter as well. I thought about writing a Self-Insert, but I wanted a more complex premise. I want to write about something that could have happened before canon, a sort of epic, untold adventure that involves lots of action, suspense, and sadness that builds characters into what we see them as.
Did anyone see the brief Hashirama mention? What do you think about Azami so far? Any interesting thoughts?
Much laughs,
Tollpatsch.