A Memory of the Past : To See Beyond the Scrolls

Land of Rain. Seven Years Ago.

Asuka's muscles ached with a deep soreness after the long hours of training. Her legs felt heavy as she walked, each step reminding her of the little chakra she had left in reserve. She raised her head, throwing a pleading look to her mother. "Can't we call it a day? I'm tired."

"Try again."

Her arms trembled with fatigue. Asuka knew that complaining wouldn't change her mother's mind, so she obediently crouched down again to lightly touch the scroll's seal with the tip of her index. She'd been attempting to unseal the Scroll of Life for hours, forming the series of complicated hand signs, but it remained stubbornly closed. And with each failure, her frustration simply grew stronger. This time, the scroll's seal started to heat up like a fiery ember under the scorching sun, almost burning her fingertip. Hissing, Asuka quickly retracted her hand, feeling the sting of the heat still lingering.

"Again," her mother ordered.

She clenched her jaw. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the scroll and her hands, searching for the slightest mistake in her technique. But no matter how much she adjusted her touch or altered the angle of her wrists, the scroll refused to budge. Even the crows were pitying her unsuccessful attempts, perched silently on the branches of the tall oak, as if mocking her. Sweat dripped down her forehead and stung her eyes, but she didn't bother to wipe it away. Asuka gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, focusing her chakra and summoning all her concentration. She tried once more, pouring all of her remaining energy into the hand signs, but it was no use. The scroll remained resolutely sealed.

Asuka's frustration boiled over, and she let out a frustrated cry. "Damn it! It's such a stupid scroll."

Her mother sighed sharply. "It'll be enough for today."

Finally. Her legs gave out, and the girl's body sprawled on the fresh grass, the blades gently tickling her skin. She welcomed the sensation of the cool breeze on her skin, a relief from the heat generated by her own exertion. She sighed loudly. The Twin Scrolls – the Scroll of Life and the Scroll of Death, held immense power that only a daughter from the clan's lineage could unseal. The hidden jutsus within them were both dangerous and valuable, and it was crucial to protect them at all costs. However, as her mother liked to remember her, using the scrolls came with great risks, since it required an enormous amount of vital energy to access their full potential. It was not a decision to be taken lightly, and those who dared to use them must be prepared for the inconveniences that came with such power. But she wasn't risking much at the moment, since she couldn't even unseal the stupid thing.

She heard her mother's footsteps approaching her location. Her elegant frame casted a slim shadow over her, blocking the sunrays. "Be patient, it'll come with time."

"You're always saying this," she huffed. "It's infuriating."

She'd grown tired of waiting. Of trying. As the years passed, she'd found herself drifting further and further away from her mother's teachings. She had grown up surrounded by the ancient customs of her mother's clan, but now they felt like shackles, binding her to a world that she no longer wished to be a part of.

Her mother carefully put back the Scroll of Life in its protective pocket, away from the harsh sunrays. Asuka swore the seal lit up with a soft light under her mother's touch. She repressed the urge to childishly stuck out her tongue at it. Her mother's gaze fell upon her.

"You aren't fully embracing the process."

"But I'm trying," she yawned, refraining from the need to roll her eyes out of annoyance. "I'll work on my technique."

"Your technique isn't the problem. It's your intent that's lacking," her mother interjected. "The Scroll of Life embodies vitality, vigor, and growth. It is a valuable resource that can be used to help others, and it requires someone who is willing to give of themselves in order to share its benefits."

Over the years, her mother's patience with her slow progress had begun to wither away. She could feel it. If Asuka had come to realize one thing over time, it was that her mother was running away. From what? She didn't know. However, anything related to scrolls triggered an anxiety that she could no longer completely conceal to them. She'd often often cast fleeting glances out the window, almost absentmindedly, as if figures from her past were about to catch up with her, once and for all.

"Alright, I'll try to be less selfish, next time," she rolled her eyes. As she grew older, she began to feel like her mother's words were falling on deaf ears. She wanted to be like the other girls her age, to wear the same clothes and listen to the same music. She longed to fit in, to be a part of something larger than herself. She sighed. "Anyways, what's the point of being able to unseal the scrolls if I can't even use the jutsus inside of them?"

She'd never seen her mother use the Scroll of Death. Ever. She actually didn't even know what it looked like, since it'd never been taken out of the chest. The Scroll of Life had some useful recipes engraved on its paper, but it didn't even require much chakra to access the instructions of minor healing recipes. She remembered her mother using one of the Scroll of Life's hidden jutsus, long ago, to heal Hiroko of a uncurable ailment that'd taken over his body. After healing him, she'd been forced to rest, unable to move for a whole day.

They ran out of things to talk about. Asuka put her hair into a loose bun, trying to contain her discontent about today's failure. She'd gotten sick of waiting, tired of feeling like she was standing still while everyone else was moving forward.

"You've changed your hair," her mother pointed out after a moment of silence, trying to lighten the mood. "It's… nice."

"You hate it, mother. Just admit it."

Now at seventeen years old, she'd gotten tired of the wild curls that made her stand out like a sore thumb. It'd take her at least an hour to flatten them every morning, but it was worth it. With all of the small changes she'd made over the years, she'd finally started to fit in. She wasn't an outcast anymore, growing in popularity among her classmates.

"You have my mother's hair." Her mother's gaze was lost on the chaotic trajectories of the birds in the sky, full of melancholy. Asuka's interest peaked up. Her mother rarely mentioned anything related to her past, including her relatives. Her lips stretched into a thin smile. The girl gazed at her own mother's hair, silky and sun-kissed, cascading down her shoulders like a river of gold. "Did you know that your grandmother had the special skill to commune with the dead?" her mother said with a far-off look in her eyes.

Curious, the girl's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

Asuka sat cross-legged on the grass, her mother kneeling beside her. "Your grandmother was the only one in our clan who ever truly mastered this technique," she said, her voice low and grave. "She could summon the spirits of the dead and speak with them, but it came at a heavy price."

"What price?" Asuka inquired.

"Using the power of the Scroll of Death requires a sacrifice," her mother said, her eyes dark. "It drains your vital energy, leaving you weak and vulnerable. And the spirits themselves are not to be fully trusted. They will also demand payment in exchange for their passage to our world, and that payment is often steep."

Asuka shivered, feeling a sudden coldness in the air. She couldn't imagine ever being brave enough to use the Scroll of Death, even if she did possess the necessary skills.

"Remember, my little bird," her mother said. "The power of the scrolls is not to be taken lightly. They must be respected, and their secrets used wisely. Only those with the proper training and discipline can hope to wield them without suffering the consequences."

She suddenly felt suffocated by the expectations placed upon her, and the pressure to always do the right thing. Lately, the weight of responsibility had become too much to bear. It seemed like there was never any room for her to make mistakes or to take a break anymore. Asuka longed for the freedom to be carefree and to live in the moment, but the constant weight of responsibility held her back. Her mother's brow quirked up as she started to get up.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting up with a group of friends."

"I see. Tomorrow's training is at five o'clock," her mother reminded her. "Before you go, would you fetch your brother for me?"

"Yes, mother."

As she stepped deeper into the forest, Asuka's head was filled with loud voices. She knew that she had to make a choice. She could either continue down the path her mother had set for her, following in the footsteps of her ancestors, or she could strike out on her own, forging a new path in a world that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

For better or for worse, she had to choose.

…

Hiroko's eyes fell upon his art supplies. He noticed with dismay that the majority of his paints had been diluted, exhausted by the stupid ingenuity of a handful of boys from his class who had decided to create a concoction of dirt, mud, and unidentified substances in his paint pots. As he inspected his brushes, he noted with a hint of bitterness that several of them had strange heads, battered by rough scissors cuts, rendering them unusable tools.

He took a deep breath, and a symphony of scents enveloped him. The air was alive with a heady mix of earthy aromas and sweet fragrances, carried on a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves overhead. Peacefulness. He couldn't get tired of this tranquil place by the pound, where the cranes occasionally came to rest. And here, with his paintbrush in hand, he felt powerful. On his canvas, he could create something that was entirely his own, something that no one could take away from him.

As the last light of the day broke through the tree canopy, the forest began to stir. He sat hunched over his canvas, his brush delicately stroking the surface as he painted a scene of the cranes. The birds were majestic and graceful, their wings spread wide as they stood serenely in the soft glow of the evening light. With each stroke of his brush, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, as if he could escape reality and all its troubles.

But just as he was lost in his own world, he was interrupted by the sound of his sister's voice calling out to him. "Hiroko! Mother is asking for you."

The birds nervously stirred in the water, responding to his sister's loud presence. As his sister approached, the boy couldn't help but marvel at the differences between them. They may look alike, but they were like two sides of the same coin. One bold and brash, the other measured and reflective. And yet, despite their differences, they had an unbreakable bond, a connection that ran deeper than words.

"I'm coming, sister," he replied, getting up from the wooden bench. "There's no need to scare the cranes."

Asuka rolled her eyes, distractingly kicking some cattails. "I didn't scare them. I barely raised my voice."

His sister's attention fell on his canvas. At this moment, he realized with a pang of regret that he hadn't finished his painting. As he gathered his things, he couldn't help but glance back at the unfinished canvas, the cranes frozen in time, waiting for him to return.

"It's beautiful," she complimented him as she examined the painting more closely. "I wish I could have your talent."

"It's not talent," he rectified, carefully putting away his art supplies into his bag. "It actually took me countless hours of practice."

"But you're passionate," she mumbled. A shadow of emotions momentarily darkened his sister's expression. As if someone had blown out the light into her eyes, submerging the rest of her face into darkness. "You are… fully embracing the process."

Hiroko carefully assessed his sister's strained appearance. Concern etched on his face, as he noticed the state of her hands – with burnt fingertips, scratches and callosities. She'd been training to unseal the ancient scrolls for over half a year, now. Their mother had always pushed them to be the best version of themselves. But as he watched his sister struggles, Hiroko couldn't help but wonder if their mother's expectations weren't set too high, this time.

"Don't worry. You'll eventually get the scrolls to unseal."

"If you say so."

Her features lightened up a bit, but she couldn't fool him of all people; his sister didn't believe his words for even a second. Her once bright and lively eyes had lost their spark, and Hiroko could sense that the light of passion that'd fueled her to unseal the scrolls was beginning to flicker and die out. She silently gathered his pencils scattered on the wooden bench, and started to walk back to their home. Hiroko followed her. His sister's mindset had definitively started to shift, and he could almost feel her drifting away.

"There's a small art exposition tonight," he said, interrupting the silence between them as they walked through the forest. "Would you like to come with me?"

"I can't," she replied. "I'm already going out with some friends. Would you like to join us?"

"Is Kaiden going to be there?"

His sister's shoulders stiffened slightly as she heard the bitterness in his tone at the mention of her boyfriend, which he didn't particularly like. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, nodding slightly in agreement. "He wants me to meet some of his friends, tonight."

He sighed. Gone were the days of carefree laughter and adventure with his sister. Instead, she found herself surrounded by a new circle of acquaintances, all of whom seemed to be waiting for her to slip up so they could pounce and push her off the proverbial cliff. Where once she had been a shining beacon of positivity and light, she now seemed to be a mere shadow of her former self, meekly following in the wake of her new boyfriend, Kaiden. His lips unconsciously twisted into a scowl. He didn't trust his sister's friends. They'd often argue about the subject. But he didn't want to pick a fight with his twin, right now.

"I think I'll just go alone to the exposition, instead," he politely declined. "But thanks for the invite."

They'd reached the edge of the forest. From their location, they could catch sight of the sprawling ivy that clung to the front of the house. His sister simply smiled back to him. "As you wish. See you."

His sister began to walk away towards the house, while he headed towards the garden where his mother awaited him. For a moment, he couldn't unlock his gaze from his sister's back. Day by day, she became someone new – someone different, someone unrecognizable. And though Hiroko tried his best to intervene, to pull his sister back from the edge before it was too late, it seemed as though his efforts were in vain. He could only watch as the person he loved most in the world slipped further and further away from him. His sister strived for something else. Freedom.

And he wasn't strong enough to hold her back.