Dystopia Unleashed
By WhoIsThisDamnAuthor
The author has graciously accepted to talk and answer your questions... Please welcome... WHOISTHISDAMNAUTHOR!
Konnichiwa, everyone.
Something has to be said about the challenges faced when coming up with this stuff.
It's easy.
What, you thought I was going to rant about how I suffer and toil, so that this stuff reaches your viewing devices? How I...
*Muffled struggling*
The author has experienced a technical glitch. In the meantime, here is the next chapter.
Chapter 6: Encounter
"Here. You've seen the chakra patterns for this one; you try it out for yourself."
Goku was shocked. The chakra handling and molding intricacy for a simple afterimage technique... Sheesh. Who would have thought chakra was so ridiculously tough?
He wound his fingers, carefully yet clumsily forming the first seal, the tiger. It was still easier than the next four. He mentally recollected the names for the seals that Minato had taught him. He had taken the better part of the first hour doing just that. He could feel the seals guide his chakra, directing it to the particular tenketsu, as the required technique took shape. Every seal was a constraint on the nature of the chakra, and the order as well as nature of the seals determined its eventual form.
The last seal was the snake. As he twined his fingers together, Goku felt the abstract flow gain substance, gushing out of specific holes in his body, and taking the form Minato had just demonstrated a minute ago. As it solidified around the tree trunk specially kept in front of him, Goku felt a surge of excitement. His first shinobi technique was going to be perfect. Kushina would have no choice but to acknowledge his awesomeness; and a little swagger in front of Mikoto didn't hurt either.
PFFT. And as suddenly as it took form around the wood, the chakra held for a moment, then disappeared. Exactly what should have happened, but the trunk didn't change shape at all. Instead of resembling a lithe, muscular thirteen year old boy, it resembled a tree trunk. And it did even that poorly, given that it was a tree trunk.
It was quite the anticlimax. Minato gave a knowing smile, one so patronizing and cheeky that the Saiyan felt like punching his nose in. But Mikoto was here, and all he could do after that sputtering failure was hang his embarrassed head down like a ripe tomato hanging on a plant.
"Don't worry, Goku," Minato said, his reassuring voice still not matching his smile. "No one learns this as fast as you are right now." He took a deep breath, and continued. "Let's go over the things required to create an image of yourself. One, the seals. They flow your chakra into the respective tenketsu required to form the underlying structure of the image. The next part, which you most likely forgot, is that you have to picture yourself in your head. This technique won't work if you don't use an image to create a likeness. So, this time, as you do it, picture yourself."
Goku nodded. He calmed himself, drawing out the rouge from his cheeks. He was going to do it perfectly this time. His hands formed the seals, a bit faster than last time. He was getting better at this. Tiger, boar, ox, dog, snake! There. His mental self-image was in place. The chakra flow solidified, and formed a perfect likeness of what he'd imagined. And only as the body replacement was fully forming did Goku realize his mistake.
The replacement was perfect, no doubt. It just wasn't him.
Minato and Mikoto both stared for the two seconds that Goku maintained the technique, and stared a whole minute after at Goku. For the body that had replaced the log was Goku, but also wasn't him. It was an estimate of what Goku was going to look like twenty years from now. And a ridiculously ambitious estimate at that. For he'd retained the spiky hairstyle and the clothes, and had somehow managed to make them larger and fit his adult body perfectly as well.
Also, his body was a hunk of chiselled muscle that made Mikoto shudder in awe. Wow. That's some extremely good prediction...
Unless it isn't Minato arrived at the same conclusion inside his head. No one was narcissistic enough to dream about their future selves in such formidable detail. So, that left only the simpler, more obvious, and most likely, correct explanation.
"You aren't actually a kid, are you?" Minato whispered.
Goku was not prepared for this. One simple oversight. He'd forgotten what he looked like, for a second. He still remembered himself as the older, almost fifty-year old man, with the extensively trained body, and the super Saiyan strength. His debacle with Shenron had messed him up inside, and now he couldn't even recollect how he looked at present. Not exactly his fault, but it was a mistake that he was going to rue for the next few hours.
He faced their barrage of questions without flinching. He braved every accusation of espionage, claiming to be innocent. It didn't matter that he actually was innocent. Now that Minato and Mikoto had gotten wind of this, they weren't going to let go. They pressed on every bit of his story, investigated into every other character he brought in. It didn't help that they had never heard of Master Roshi, Bulma, Krillin, or Chi-Chi.
After what seemed like a decade, Minato took a pause between questions that was much longer than usual. Goku was deflated, his entire past out in the open. It had been a tough ordeal to bring up friends and family that he would never see again, experiences that he would never share with them again, rivalries that would never get brought up again.
He was reminded, again, that he was alone. Truly alone. He hung his head, too tired and washed out to face his questioners. "I'll pack up my stuff and be on my way in a few minutes," Goku sighed. He didn't know where else to go, in this foreign land, but he knew for sure that he couldn't stay here.
"What are you talking about?" Mikoto's voice rang through his head. "Who said you're leaving? You are the most interesting person I've met in my whole life. The entire incident where you became a child again, the one about you coming here, I believe it! The whole of it!"
Goku raised his head and looked her in the eye. Minato was smiling again. This wasn't the irritating smile from a few hours ago. It was genuine.
"We understand that you need a fresh start to overcome your past, and to move on once and for all," Mikoto continued. "And this just means we're going to train you and treat you just like a Konoha shinobi, just like...us." Goku noted the slight pause. "So, stop crying, get up, and have that dinner with me, like you promised."
Goku raised his hand to his face, and gave a start. He was crying. That's a first for me... Wiping off his tears, he stood up. The stars in the sky seemed to be glowing a little brighter this evening.
Ichiraku's was closed for the day. Or rather, it was closing. The proprietor was about to shut down shop when his most profitable customer arrived. I should give this kid some free bowls now and then... He's the reason I was able to expand from a tiny cart to this nice restaurant... All in three days. The Hokage footing the bill just makes it better.
Today, Goku had brought a guest. Minato was there, as usual, already looking nauseous at the thought of seeing another hour or two of mindless gluttony, but the other girl, well, she was simply smiling, walking next to his golden-egg dropping, only-ramen-eating goose.
Ichiraku started warming up, both the food and his muscles. Dishing out hot noodles at the rate this kid ate them was an A-rank mission in itself. He took deep breaths, hyperventilating for the high intensity ramen workout. Let's give Onee-chan and Minato free bowls for today. I'll start with Goku's freebies from tomorrow.
"HEY! Dinner for Minato and you, miss, is on the house." He motioned to the gleaming seats right next to the kitchen. "Come, Goku! This time, I've done my training. I'm ready for whatever you've got!"
"OKAY! Hit me!" Goku replied.
Macho posturing done with, the chef quickly got down to business as usual, and his gleeful customer, having accepted the challenge with just as much gusto, started wolfing down noodles and hot soup like his life depended on it.
Mikoto quietly picked at her bowl, content to watch the thirteen year old indulge in one of the most nauseating experiences ever, and simply smiled. So you really are older than you look. That's why I felt like you understood me. Also, the clean slate thing still holds, so I look forward to keeping your acquaintance, Son-kun...
Minato silently ate his bowl with closed eyes, leaning slightly to his left to avoid collateral damage from the carnage going on to his right.
After the dinner, Ichiraku personally escorted his money-making machine out of the establishment. Minato let out a polite, muffled burp, while his protégé roared his belch out with no respect for etiquette.
"Well, I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Goku," Minato yawned. It was late, after all.
"All right!" Goku smiled.
"Just one thing." The smile was back. Goku stiffened, his primal instincts all tingling.
"How are you going to explain to Kushina tomorrow that you learned only one jutsu, and that too only partly?"
Oh...Shit. Goku shivered. "I-I-I t-t-th-th-thought y-y-y-you w-w-w-would t-t-ta-take c-c-ca-care of it, M-M-M-Minato..." he sputtered.
"She does expect you to have mastered ten, does she not?" the smile broadened.
"Well... Y-Y-Y-You did interrogate m-m-me, so is-is-isn't it y-y-y-yo-your f-f-f-fault?"
"I'm not telling her about the interrogation. Your story will be our secret from everyone else. Until you want to reveal it, that is..."
Goku was stumped. On one hand, he didn't want his story to be spread around quite so early. On the other, the she-devil stood with her menacing grimace and her life-threatening torture.
"P-P-P-Please h-h-h-help m-m-me, M-M-Mi-Minato," Goku couldn't say one word straight.
"All right, all right," Minato let out a chuckle. "I'm just teasing. I'll tell her it's my fault." He didn't seem too comfortable either, judging by his nervous smile.
"Anyway, big day tomorrow! See ya!" Minato ran off towards his house.
Goku and Mikoto stood in the dwindling light, as Ichiraku actually closed for the night. "So, you want to walk me home?" Mikoto asked, her face expressionless.
Goku was crimson. "Yes, Mikoto-san, of course," he said, turning the other way to hide his burning face. It was happening. It was definitely happening. He had achieved it. What was next? Maybe tomorrow he would try to hold her hand...
YEAH. RIGHT. Because holding hands is the epitome of romance in both these godforsaken anime. Do you know how hard it is to freaking add pairings into a couple of such childish pieces of ...
*more muffled thuds*
We apologize for the inconvenience. The author will soon be brought under control. Till then, please. Read the story.
"Follow me." Mikoto led him along one of the many alleys surrounding the junction where Ichiraku's was. Goku simply nodded and followed.
After a while, it became obvious that they were leaving the central part of the village, going further into the outskirts. "Where do you stay, Mikoto-san?" Goku broke the silence.
"My clan has a special enclosure, just for us," Mikoto said, the fate of the Uchiha running in constant repeat through her mind. She gritted her teeth. "The village thinks we're... special."
"But don't important and special people get to live in the center of the village? Like how His Eminence stays in that big HQ building or something?"
"We're special in a rather different way, Son-kun," She was dreading this part. She was going to have to tell him the tale of the Uchiha clan now, given that he'd shared his entire past with him. And that was going to alienate possibly the only friend she could ever have. "We're..." She caught him staring at her, blushing furiously.
"D-d-d-did you just call me Son-kun?" Goku managed after many, many pauses.
"Yes," Mikoto was confused. "Did you not like it?"
"C-c-could you call me that again, please?"
Mikoto was completely lost. "What do you mean, Son-kun?"
His eyes shone with new happiness. He simply shook his head, and grinned like a maniac.
"Nothing's wrong, Mikoto-san, It's just that... No one's called me that in a long, long time," Goku looked at her directly, and paused for effect. "Could... Could I call you Mikoto?" He added.
Mikoto let out a gentle laugh. "Of course you can, Son-kun..." there it was, again. The same shine in his eyes. Goku's face brightened, and he let out a wide smile. "Thank you, Mikoto," he managed through his goofy grin, "You've really gotten me out of worrying over Kushina destroying me tomorrow..."
Mikoto nodded. "You're welcome," She let out a smile as well. Goku had taken a load off of her mind too. There was no danger. Her past meant nothing to him. She needn't hold back because he was going to be her friend despite that. She could see that now.
A few seconds later, she stopped. They had arrived. The Uchiha enclosure loomed over them like a forbidden city. In the dark, the residence of one of the most fearsome clans in the world looked even more forbidding than usual.
Goku was astonished. "So this is where you live, huh? Kinda scary, if you ask me..."
Mikoto simply smiled. Goku had no idea about the crap that went on inside the four walls. It had crossed scary a long time ago. It was now bordering on horrifying.
"Anyway, thanks for coming all the way here. It means a lot to me," Mikoto said. "But I really need to be going now. It's late."
"Of course, of course." Goku quickly shuffled his feet, getting ready to leave.
Mikoto skipped over to the gate. "See you tomorrow!" She was going to tell him her story tomorrow. All of it. She was sure she could trust his friendship. Son-kun didn't look like he based his opinion of someone based on their heritage.
"You're coming to the training ground tomorrow as well?" Goku asked, pleasantly surprised.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she called out as she disappeared into the compound. Goku lingered for a few seconds, happily reminiscing on the day. Everything was awesome.
Even unicorns shitting rainbows wouldn't come close to the level of happy he felt then.
He turned, walking back to his apartment. As he flexed his thighs to start his parkour home, he heard a tiny rustle. It was a careful padded step, given away by a small dried twig in the wrong place. Usually, the noise would have been muffled into the background by the thick rubber soles of the sandals all Konoha shinobi, including those of Root, wore.
Usually. This small crack wouldn't have been heard by the best of the Jonins in Konohagakure, or even Goku for that matter, had there not been a slight tailwind that carried it to the Saiyan's ears. He immediately turned, using his forearm to push aside the dull black blade that was about to sever his carotid artery.
He reached to grab the arm responsible, but it was already gone. In an impossibly short time gap, another blade came towards him, from behind. Bending equally fast, he let thesecond blade pass harmlessly above him. He knew that the momentum of the move would prevent the assassin to drag it down before he'd had time to slow down the blade.
But, suddenly, the dagger shot downward, towards his back. Goku rolled sideways, dodging the attack. That's not possible, given the size and approximate weight of that kunai...Kushina had been more than thorough with this kind of theory during his fifteen minute planks. Unless it's hollow, he reasoned. A hollow kunai would allow that kind of maneuverability, and yet be sharp enough to deal significant damage. I need to tell Minato to make his Instant Transmission kunais hollow.
But enough of that. There were assassins on him, at least two, and he needed to escape to somewhere safe and open to fight them. Sprinting forward, he used his forearms to block the barrage of kunai strikes, while also figuring out the shortest path to the nearest playground.
He caught an overhanging ledge, and pushed hard off it. That gave him some aerial time, to plan out his strategy. It would be a fair fight over open ground. He just needed to get there before being killed. The buildings were advantageous to his opponents. They could hide in any one of these innumerable eaves and corners, and attack all of a sudden.
He zig-zagged through windows and balconies until he reached the terrace level. Going into an all out free run, he outpaced the assassins, reaching the main village playground a whole hundred metres ahead of them. Skidding on the loose sand, he turned around, and winced. Kushina's training regimen had left him very weak physically. His entire body ached from the intense workouts; the chakra molding hadn't been a cakewalk either. He couldn't fight these guys in a drawn-out fight. It had to be short and clinical. He decided that he was going to use his chakra to win this thing. It was the one thing that he had ample supply of.
As the assassins came to the playground, Goku counted three in front of him. This means there's at least one lurking in the shadows. They were clothed with standard armor, and sleeveless jerkins underneath. They all had masks on, representing various animal faces. And, they all held those hollow black blades in their hands.
All this was standard ANBU uniform. Any normal Konohagakure shinobi would have recognized the attire. Then they would have most likely fallen to their knees and begged to be spared. The Root, the division of the village's Secret Forces under Shimura Danzo, was known for their aggressive assassinations, and powerful yet skilful coordination. They were known to never fail to execute a target once it was determined. Heck, Root members were themselves dismembered when they didn't do the job.
(Just a little pun, cause this shit ain't done)
Goku had no knowledge of any factions or secret services. All he knew was that three or more people were after his life, and he was going to fight them.
They silently attacked, and the only way Goku was able to stay alive was a quick and lucky succession of jumps and rolls. He didn't have the time to form seals, and his hand movements were too slow anyway. He was in a pinch, and he knew it. As he desperately dove to near-miss a killing thrust to the heart, he knew he had only one option. He had to use that.
It was far from perfect, and he'd only managed to do it once before in a burst of anger, but he had to try it, or simply be killed by any one of these thrusts. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he concentrated. This was far from easy, even when he was relaxed and otherwise motionless. Trying it in actual combat so early, however, was a huge task.
He gathered up the required amount of chakra, and was about to start applying the rotation when one of the daggers hit him. It drove straight into his other shoulder. He smashed his teeth together to keep from screaming. The pain wasn't much, but it was some of the first he'd felt in a long time. So, even a simple shoulder wound felt like he was being ripped apart.
Somehow the chakra was still there, gathered in his palm. He drove the pain from his head, and started the rotations. Barely seeing the next attack with the corner of his eye, he turned sideways to dodge it, and felt another one of those damned blades shove into his calf muscle. He stumbled mid-turn and fell down, but still kept his mind on the task at hand.
Gradually, the Rasengan did finally achieve its complete form, but it was not before Goku had received another three large gashes on his arms and legs. He'd given up on dodging every attack completely. In his weakened state, it was impossible. He'd prioritized saving his vitals, and that meant sacrificing his limbs. He'd kept them from being severed, and had deep wounds to show for it.
But, the Rasengan was ready, and Goku merely waited for the right moment to use it. Somehow, the assassins hadn't noticed the ball in his hand, or had rather chosen to ignore it. Either way, it was going to be their undoing. Remembering how Minato had scared him the first time they met, he drove his index finger into the spinning vortex, destabilizing it.
As the chakra unravelled, it would explode violently, as Goku himself had experienced. Wincing at the pain, he used his wounded legs to jump up, and kept his left arm extended downwards. The assassins took note of the sudden motion, but it was too late. The resulting blast sent all of them flying backwards, rendered unconscious even as they flew.
The Saiyan himself stayed conscious solely because of the pain. The explosion had ripped open several slices on his arm, and, as he rose further up because of the blast, he forgot to get into position to land on his feet. He thudded into the ground, and it wasn't a picnic. His entire body hurt now, and his sore muscles from training only added to the pain. Getting up, he limped away from the scene, thanking his lucky stars that he was alive.
He shouldn't have, just yet. He'd walked no more than five or six steps when another one, the hidden assassin, made his entry into the messed-up scene. Goku stiffened, and drove his heels into the ground, sprinting away from the attack. He needed time to prepare another Rasengan, and after seeing it being used once, it wasn't likely that assassin #4 was going to let him charge up another. He was too weak to even partially dodge the blade attacks any more.
So he ran, preparing another Rasengan in his hand as his footsteps fell onto one random street, then another. He didn't know where he was going; he simply wanted to run away from the eventual possibility of death. He simply chose streets based on a single glance, not caring where it would lead him. Then all of a sudden, he was in open ground again.
He stopped, and looked around. The giant, imposing structure of the Uchiha enclosure loomed in front of his eyes. He'd returned to where he'd started. The Rasengan was ready. Turning around, he faced his opponent. He had one chance; and one chance only. He had to make it count. He took a determined step forward.
His body suddenly refused to move any further. He felt stuck, paralyzed. He couldn't even swivel his eyes in any direction. His chest felt constricted; he couldn't breathe either. At the bottom of his field of vision, he saw the ninjutsu that he'd been caught in. In the pale moonlight, a thin shadow extended from his opponent's feet over to his own. That was the thing keeping him in place.
The guy in front had the seal of the Rat, fingers of one hand draped over the extended index and middle fingers of the other. But now wasn't the time to dwell on the technique; it was a time to try and escape before it was too late.
He realized with a growing despair that the Rasengan had fizzled out. His only lifeline was now cut off. He was at his assassin's mercy. And Goku guessed that he had no mercy. As the guy advanced slowly, fingers still holding the seal, Goku realised that he was using a sizable amount of chakra to keep the shadow, and hence the paralysis, in place.
Goku struggled inside his invisible prison, struggled with all his strength. He saw his opponent flinch, just a little. But that was enough indication. Goku mentally writhed and thrashed, trying to get his nerve endings to fire, and to get his muscles to work. He was also fighting a losing battle with carbon dioxide, though; he hadn't taken a breath in a while. His fight got weaker gradually, and he soon slumped down, barely conscious.
The assassin advanced faster now, and as Goku's eyes glazed over with loss of consciousness, he saw that he had released his paralyzing technique. He had the hollow knife in his hands, and clearly he didn't even consider Goku as a remote threat anymore. Goku hated those who underestimated others, especially those who underestimated him. Flexing his chest, he took in a deep breath, forcefully returning to consciousness.
As his opponent started the killing thrust, Goku tried to counter with a rising punch of his own. But, a new tsunami of pain from flexing his wounded thighs and arms made him falter, just for the instant the assassin needed. The knife homed in, heading steadily towards Goku's heart. I should just accept this as a life well lived... He mused resignedly.
I've had far more than my fair share of lives, I think. It just had to end someday.
The knife never descended. Goku opened eyelids which he never remembered closing. The assassin lay on his back, a whole ten meters from Goku, and a huge iron spear sticking out of his forehead. Goku's eyes widened at the gory sight. He'd never witnessed such a cruel way to die, and he couldn't help but feel pity for the poor assassin who had a sad fate.No one should have to experience this, or even see it happen.
He looked back at the forest surrounding the enclosure, right behind him, searching for the mystery savior, who'd used such despicable means to help him live. His entire body was fatigued, though, and his slightly blurry eyesight couldn't make out much in the sparse moonlight.
Whoever that was, he is going to have to explain himself to me.
Whenever the hell I find him.
As the stars shone over the sleeping village, muffled sounds of digging could be heard near its outskirts. As Son Goku made a grave for the dead assassin, a silent spectator watched from the foliage around. The Leaf village was aptly named. It had a wealth of hiding spots in the lush green broad-leaved trees scattered around the entirety of the settlement.
The spectator's eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Underneath them, a forked tongue darted out periodically, 'tasting' the scents in the air, sensing the environment around him. This time around, it simply told him that the surroundings contained no threat, a fact that he already knew.
For the spectator-cum-savior had eliminated the only malevolent factor in the vicinity this night. He continued gazing out onto the cemetery, as the boy continued digging. He saw the little twinges of pain he gave with each heave, as he flung out fresh soil from under the ground.
An interesting specimen... the spectator mused. Very interesting indeed.
Orochimaru was only interested in powerful, macabre, or altogether insane subjects. This kid, however, didn't fit the bill in any possible way. He actually exuded an air of benevolence, of caring, and was going so far as to respectfully perform the last rites of a person who was, just a few minutes ago, trying to end his life. He was the kind of despicable little cloying shit Orochimaru would keep as far away from himself as possible. But, somewhere, in that little, irritating boy's scent was the flavor of pure strength; a power far, far greater than anyone in this ignorant village could ever imagine.
It somehow felt depleted. It was an unknown force, and even Orochimaru could do little more than guess at its true potential. It seemed like it would be years before it eventually returned, though, and Orochimaru decided that he would carefully observe this kid until his power showed through. He couldn't let this possible opportunity slip through his fingers. Even the Uchiha's formidable visual prowess paled in comparison to this newcomer's potential for growth.
He watched as the boy slowly lowered the body into his grave, and filled it back. Patting the clay covering his fallen enemy, he dropped to his knees, grimacing away his pain. Folding his hands together, he said a silent prayer, possibly for the soul of the departed assassin. He gazed intently as he slowly got up and limped away, back to the apartment that the Hokage had allotted to him.
Oh, this has just begun so perfectly. I cannot wait to see what you will become. I shall keep my eye out for you, child...
Just you wait.
We are happy to announce that the author has successfully been calmed down.
Since our programming time's almost up, we shall have only closing statements from our esteemed guest.
I'm really sorry for my outburst from before.
It's just that... this stress builds up, you know?
At least you have my story to take your mind off it, right?
What do I have, huh?
HUH?
NOTHING BUT RANDOM STUFF FROM THE INTERNET? GANGNAM STYLE?
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY?
VIDEOS OF TWO GIRLS...
*Loud thump*
With that, we end our show. Do tune in next time for more from WhoIsThisDamnAuthor!