I was addicted, and the ocean was my drug. In my first life, I was born in Tampa, Florida, and the same day I left the hospital, I was taken to the beach. Every day since, I had been taken or voluntarily returned to lounge, swim, surf or boat, unless there was a hurricane or equally sufficient reason not to. Salt water ran through my veins.
Then I left for the Naval Academy in Maryland, and even though there wasn't a traditional sand beach, I still spent all my limited free time in or around the ocean.
I hadn't been away from the ocean for any significant length until my reincarnation. And it was slowly driving me mad. I felt like Spongebob in episode one.
It would be a bit strange to simply come out and ask to be taken swimming; I had never so much as seen a substantial body of water, and suddenly developing a fixation didn't make sense at all. So, I tried to devise a way for Kazuhiro to bring me to a body of water first, after which I could better justify an obsession.
There were no oceans anywhere near me—the polar ocean was over a week's travel north and was, by all accounts, intolerable to be around much less inside of—but, at this point, any body of water would do. I thought that Iwa must have some kind of lake or pool, but if there was one, I had no idea where it was.
But then it hit me. Water walking was a basic skill for all shinobi, and even though Iwagakure's ninja didn't fight near water often, there was no way that command would tolerate such a gaping hole in their skillsets.
"Ne, ni-san?" I asked one day. "Is it true shinobi can walk on water? Iwao said his Tou-san told him they could. Do you know how to do it?"
"Yes, Kasaiki-chan," Kazuhiro answered genially. "I learned in the academy; I fought a lot in the Land of Waterfalls, and there are many lakes in Grass, Rain, and Rivers too."
Iwa's academy must have been a hell of a lot more thorough than Konoha's. If I recall, Naruto hadn't even learned the skill until he was about to take the Chunin exams. Although, there currently might have been a greater emphasis placed on early education, what with the war that had only just recently ended.
"How did you do that?" I asked eagerly.
Kazuhiro, to his credit, had realized he didn't have to dumb down answers for me on account of my age. I was nearing three years old, and we had spoken a fair bit about chakra. Unfortunately, he seemed to be almost as clueless as I was in regards to chakra theory.
He explained water walking, corroborating what I already knew from the show.
Finally, the coup de grâce. "Can you show me?"
Kazuhiro was nineteen, and I rarely showed interest in anything he could do. He should have been chomping at the bit to show off.
"It's not all that exciting," he said demurely, like he was a shy schoolgirl.
"Please?" I uncharacteristically begged, and he sighed.
"I could fill up the bathtub," he mused, and I cringed internally. I hadn't thought of that.
"No, that won't be as cool," I claimed. "Don't we have a lake or something in the village you can stand on?"
"No, not really," he said. "Not aside from Lake Magatta, which is where I learned."
Jackpot.
"Let's go there, then!" I said, excitedly.
"I'm sorry, Kasaiki-chan, it's not possible," he said firmly. "Lake Magatta is underground, deep beneath the mountains. People aren't allowed in there—it's only ever used for shinobi training. You'll be able to see it when you reach the academy, but it's too dangerous for you now. You might be hit by a stray weapon, or jutsu."
"Is it really that busy?" I asked, feeling my smile dim.
"Well, not exactly," he hedged. "But civilians aren't allowed there anyway. Just be patient, Kasaiki-chan."
Patience wasn't my strong suit. It never had been, and it never will be. So, I hatched a devious plan, using Iwao as my pawn.
With a bit more nagging, I learned from Kazuhiro that academy students learned water walking in their fifth year at the academy (there were six years in total), specifically during the fourth quarter. Since it was September, they were approaching that now.
So for several months, including on my own birthday, I stalked the academy students with little Iwao by my side, under the guise of playing. Conveniently, there was a park right outside of the academy. It wasn't exactly public as it was used by the students, but if we stayed on the outskirts and out of everybody's way, nobody bothered to make us leave.
Iwao, of course, wasn't privy to my true objectives, but he grew used to me randomly excusing myself if I saw large groups of fifth-year students (I had memorized most of the roster) leave together during academy hours.
Your stealth ability has risen by one.
Psych. I wish, but although a small part of me still hadn't given up hope, there was nothing to suggest I had any latent gamer abilities. Instead, I had to stalk them the old fashioned way—by hiding behind buildings and pretending to shop, look for a lost piece of jewelry or something else.
Finally, my efforts bore fruit. I followed an entire class through the streets and to a cave dug into a mountain two to the left of the one the Monument to the Fallen had been carved out of. It was clearly manmade, and perfectly proportioned stairs led down into the underground.
I didn't go in just yet, of course; I couldn't hide from the academy students or sensei in such a cramped space, even without taking into account the echo my footsteps would make. But I did return a couple days later, after sneaking away from Iwao early in our play date. I figured I'd have a couple hours before Akane-obasan got worried and discovered my absence.
I had hoped the tunnel wasn't too winding, as I had no way to navigate or map it out. Luck seemed to be on my side, however, because the tunnel actually had signs. I just had to supply the light—something I managed with a torch fashioned from a large stick, some baby clothes that no longer fit me and cooking oil. I carried another in my free hand, unlit, and I had a flint and steel in my pocket just to be safe. Plus, I noted the turns I took on a piece of paper, digging the point of my pencil into the page deep enough that I could feel the L or R I wrote just in case my torches weren't sufficient.
I wasn't taking any chances. Though the tunnels were wide and as non threatening as they could possibly be, minus the darkness, the underground still freaked me the fuck out. Ever since I heard about those miners in Chile, I've avoided caves or tunnels like the plague. It spoke volumes to my swimming withdrawal that I was willing to brave this at all.
Then I had a realization and nearly bashed my head against the rock. I was supposed to be a kunoichi, or would be one very soon. An Iwa kunoichi. What self respecting Rock ninja would be afraid of a god damned tunnel? For fuck's sake!
Taking a deep breath, I decided to view this as exposure therapy. I found solace in the fact that, one day, a cave-in would be about as threatening to me as the waves I once surfed on. That was to say, a little threatening, but not so much that they should be avoided altogether. I knew better than anyone else that the element I was most comfortable with could still spell my demise, if I wasn't careful.
After about twenty minutes of search, I found my quarry. Rather, nearly fell into my quarry would be more apt. There was solid rock and then immediately water at the same surface level.
Jeez, no railing or anything? Still, I couldn't stop a wide grin from stretching across my face.
There was a brazier along the wall, next to the tunnel I entered from. It was fueled and ready, with a vat of pitch next to it, so I lit it with my torch, taking a reflexive step back as heat scalded me with a greater intensity than I anticipated.
The light from the fire illuminated most of the lake, which was a lot larger than I imagined. I could scarcely understand how the mountain hadn't collapsed upon it.
Without any wind, the lake's surface was flat, glassy and undisturbed. Unnatural. With no effort, I could see my reflection, something I typically avoided, mainly because I had a very clear picture of what I looked like, and the face that stared back at me was assuredly not it.
My face was supposed to be heart shaped, not broad and thuggish. My hair was supposed to be blond, bleached even lighter by the constant sun, not mahogany. The reflection that stared back at me had no dimples, no freckles, and was unblemished aside from tiny scars and too-conspicuous pores.
I wouldn't have really called myself vain before, and, in fact, I found that conventional female attractiveness was often a detriment to any woman seeking an officer position in the military. It doubtlessly would be in Iwa's hierarchy as well, unless I was to go into seduction (which I definitely wouldn't). But this body was shaping up to be kinda…ugly.
But who knows. I'm a kid still, and not a pedophile, so it was probably a good thing I didn't find myself attractive. And even if most men would never find me enticing…well. I didn't really think they were enticing either, so that suited me just fine.
Power had its own beauty, and since I was going to be the baddest bitch around, I had a feeling I wouldn't lack companionship in my later years, if I lived to see them. Not unless I wanted to.
Though I couldn't tell from down here, daylight was burning, so I quickly stripped off my outer layer. Underneath my normal clothes, I wore the closest thing I could find to a swimsuit; a loose white and red tunic with cinched arm and leg openings. It was thin enough—almost like cheese cloth—that it wouldn't drag or weigh me down much, and it wouldn't absorb or retain a lot of water either. Not enough to bleed through my outer layer, at least, which was purposefully dark enough to hide any wet spots.
Testing the water with my toe, I found it to be, surprisingly enough, not freezing. Sure, it was quite brisk, but I was expecting much worse in this setting.
With a sigh of pleasure, I sank in fully, my body quickly growing accustomed to the chill. Unable to help myself, I began to giggle uncontrollably, which soon transformed into laughter of pure—and only a little bit deranged—joy.
I dove into the depths, pushing this body as fast as it could handle. In the water, I felt unstoppable. I swam laps, first at breakneck pace and then slowly, lazily. I floated on my back for what could have been half an hour.
My new body wasn't strong in the same ways as my last body was. I could blame a great deal of that on age, but some of that also came from my lack of exposure to water. Swimming was an aerobic exercise superior and more comprehensive than almost any other, and, though I tried my best on land, most exercises only used select parts of the body, while ignoring others completely. As a result, the lesser used muscle groups stayed weak, and robbed many movements of strength. Now that I had a water source to train in, hopefully that deficiency would right itself.
Then, the best day of my new life was interrupted. I heard voices from the tunnel behind me, and I froze like a deer in the headlights, craning my ears to make out what they were saying.
After the unintelligible muttering gave way to something more lucid, I heard a younger, feminine voice.
"Sensei, is there someone else here?"
"Maybe someone just left the light burning," another…boy? Suggested.
"No, there's definitely someone here," came the voice of a much more mature woman.
Shit. I kinda thought no one would use this pool—the war was over, so I assumed there would be less of an emphasis placed on learning to fight on terrains most commonly found in foreign countries.
What should I do? Should I hide? Probably not. The odds of me successfully evading a Jonin—I assume this is a sensei and her team—were nonexistent.
Better just face the music head on, and hope they don't throw me in jail.
"Hello!" I chirped happily as they rounded the corner. The genin, all missing brown combat vests, seemed taken aback by my presence. Though I didn't spare them much attention.
Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry.
Their Jonin sensei was hot. Not hot in a straight way either; she had short hair, giant biceps and holy shit thighs. Her outfit, the standard Iwagakure uniform, wasn't even flattering and I could barely tear my eyes away.
She also seemed incredibly displeased by my presence. There was a heavy scowl on her face, and I immediately realized that my initial plan, which was to act childish and stupid, probably wouldn't be taken well at all.
"What are you doing here, kid?" She asked, no nonsense. "And don't say some shit about getting lost."
"Sensei," one of her students interjected with a frown. "She's just a kid."
"No, you're right," I said, to everyone's visible surprise. "I'm not lost. I'm exactly where I wanted to be."
"Oh? And why would you want to be in a restricted training area, one that I have booked for my team's use?" The hot sensei asked.
"Training," I said immediately. "Strength exercises, specifically, and improving my endurance. I'm going to be a shinobi," I said belatedly, hoping to appeal to her professionalism.
"Why?" She asked, and I blinked in surprise.
"Why do I want to be a shinobi?" I clarified, but she shook her head.
"I don't give a shit about that. Why did you decide to sneak in here, just to train?"
Crap. I was hoping she'd take that at face value.
"Well," I hedged. "I didn't really sneak in—no one stopped me. But I chose this place because I…run a lot. But that mostly just trains your lower half. Swimming is, like, the upper body version of running. You know, 'cuz you're moving yourself with your arms."
It was a childish way of thinking, but hopefully, since I was a child, it would fly.
"It's working too," I tacked on nervously as her eyes continued to pierce through my soul. They were electric blue and cold as ice. "I can tell because it's wearing out my body in ways I've never experienced before."
She stared back impassively for several more moments, before tossing her head.
"Your training session is over. We have our own to get to."
I nodded, turning to leave. But then I remembered the feeling of the water and stopped.
"I want to come back and train again," I said boldly, and she turned her eyes back to me.
"Feel free to book it when you get your own headband," she said, but I was already shaking my head.
"I'm going to be Iwa's top shinobi one day," I said, deadly serious. "But I can't be, if I don't start now."
One of the little assholes behind her giggled, but sexy-sensei gave no tells as to what she thought of my claim.
"The strongest shinobi?" She finally clarified. "Not the strongest kunoichi?"
Ah. A fellow feminist. Not to profile, but who's shocked?
I grinned, though there was little humor. "The Goat. Greatest of all time." Or I would die trying, and not by choice. Such was the world I now lived in.
"If you want my blessing to use this training ground, you'll have to prove to me you're worth it," she said dangerously.
The Jonin raised her hands and performed what I recognized to be a hand seal. I didn't know them yet, but I committed its appearance to memory nonetheless. Then, she shifted to a second, and raised her palm upward. It began to glow.
"Ninpo: Chisana Hikari no Jutsu," she announced. "It's an F-Rank jutsu, which requires little skill at chakra manipulation to cast. Learn it."
Oh, Moses. I was being taught a jutsu. I didn't even care that it was F-Rank—didn't know that was a thing, actually, I thought E-Rank like the Kawarimi and Henge were as low as the classification went—all I cared about was how I was going to be able to do fucking ninja magic
"I would love to," I said with extreme sincerity. "But I'm only three, and I was told that I would rupture my everything if I tried to mold chakra."
"At three, your pathways should be resilient enough to handle this," the Jonin said. "As long as you aren't an idiot and try to channel too much too quickly. Be gentle and purposeful with your chakra, and you should have no injuries."
She drew herself up straighter. "Return here exactly a week from now. If you can perform the jutsu for a whole five minutes, consecutively of course, I will allow you to exercise here while I train my team. If you fail, I will judge you as having no talent, and I will personally ensure you can never take a step into this training ground until it is time to learn water walking with your class in the academy. Do I make myself clear?"
This wasn't Konoha, that's for sure. But I flourished in the military, and I was more than accustomed to harsh task masters. And even more than that, my blood sung at the challenge.
"Crystal. I'll see you in a week," I said with perfect confidence, and hurried back the way I came. The sun was much too far along in the sky, and I had to get home to receive my scolding.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
When his little god-sister asked him for a scroll on hand seals, Kazuhiro didn't think much of the request. Drilling the art was vitally important for a shinobi-in-training, though many settled for simply memorizing the sequences of the jutsu they learned. He didn't have to ask to know that Kasaiki wouldn't so much as entertain the prospect of taking that shortcut, however, so he agreed easily and bought her the manual.
It was kinda adorable watching her attempt to contort her fingers into the unnatural positions, and she often got frustrated. But the scary level of focus she sometimes possessed overcame her difficulty, and after spending an entire day doing nothing else but sequences, she managed a shaky grasp of all twelve basic seals.
"I won't be able to accidentally do a jutsu, will I?" the little girl asked, awkwardly holding up the dragon sign.
"No," Kazuhiro answered. "The hand position is only half of what makes a hand seal. The other half is a pulse of chakra, originating from the tenketsu in both hands. And beyond that, most jutsu also require a conscious direction of chakra, which can be aborted. For example,"
Kazuhiro, showing off a little, flashed through five hand seals—ram, boar, ox, dog, snake—and reached out towards a dining room chair with his chakra. An instant later, he and it had swapped places.
"That was the Kawarimi no Jutsu," he announced. "When I wove the signs, it created a projectile chakra pulse, which I had to consciously fire at the chair, my object of choice. When it came in contact with the chair, it switched our positions. Aiming and firing that chakra pulse takes practice, and can be difficult to do in the middle of a fight."
Kasaiki had watched the demonstration with the appropriate amount of awe, but then her face lit up in realization.
"Thank you, ni-san," she chirped. "I know why this wasn't working now."
Her brow furrowed in concentration, and, from memory, formed her hands into the rat seal. Then, she shifted it into dragon and unclasped her hands, leveling a palm upward. It began to glow with soft light.
"Ya-tta!" she cheered, though not enough to disrupt her jutsu, as Kazuhiro stared gobsmacked.
"Is that a…" he trailed off, not finishing the question as the answer was obvious.
"I went to the hospital to ask when I could start using chakra safely," she said cheerfully. "One of the nee-sans, a nurse, said I should be able to do this one now if I was careful. She showed me the hand signs."
"Did she tell you what constitutes using chakra safely?" he asked anxiously, as the phrase was incredibly vague.
"Yep!" she said. "She said that if I felt twinges of pain, I need to use less chakra, and if I start to feel woozy I need to stop until a day after I feel better."
That checked out, he supposed.
"Okay. Okay, good." Then, Kazuhiro's face broke into a soft smile as he reached over to rest a hand on her head. "You're so cool, imouto. You'll be an amazing kunoichi some day."
She grinned, looking so much like her mother at that moment. Kazuhiro wasn't sure if he had ever seen Mana without that exact expression on her face.
"I think you deserve a treat for learning your first jutsu," he announced. "What would you like?"
"Something new!" she cheered, and Kazuhiro laughed in bemusement.
What a strange child. What kid ever wanted to try something new?
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
A day after I finally learned the Chisana Hikari no Jutsu, I discovered that simply executing the technique was the easy part of Sexy-sensei's challenge. Maintaining it for five consecutive minutes was the hard part. Keeping focus and steadying the stream of chakra to my hand was like exhaling for an extended period of time while keeping the intensity of the air stream constant. It was easy at first, but grew exponentially more difficult as time passed. I was getting better at it, but I'm starting to suspect that it was an unreasonable goal to give an ordinary three-year-old.
Well, I did say I was going to be the best. If I wanted something easy, I shouldn't have talked so big.
I worked and worked, neglecting all other projects in the face of my deadline. I didn't even socialize with Iwao, though I wanted to teach him my new jutsu as a thank you for his contribution to the events that allowed me to learn it. I might take him to the hospital to actually get a medical professional's opinion on the matter, just to be safe, as he surely didn't have the level of awareness over his chakra that I possessed.
When I got to the three and a half minute mark, I began to have other difficulties. Those being my chakra reserves. I had overestimated their size, probably due to my own ego and the suggestion from fanfics that a reincarnated person's chakra was larger because they possessed an abundance of spiritual energy. I guess I also assumed that all my internal chakra manipulation worked to increase my reserves by a lot, for some reason. Apparently, I was wrong on all accounts.
Scratch what I said earlier. This task wasn't just unreasonable for a three-year-old; it was impossible. That bitch just didn't want to share her space with me.
She was in for a shock then. I was going to pass her challenge, and I was going to resort to drastic matters to do it.
My plans began with a dive into my Keimon, my Gate of View, which was responsible for signaling the body to create more chakra. I wasn't going to do something stupid like open the Gate (even if I was that much of a moron, I assume the spandex duo were the only ones in the anime capable of doing so for a reason), but I was going to try and trick it, hopefully causing the organ to let out a false signal that would cause the body to produce more chakra even though I was already at full capacity.
How am I going to do that? I have no idea. My plan was just to fiddle around in there until I found my answer.
According to my medical textbook, the gate worked on an overflow system. It would take care of itself first before distributing its excess chakra to the rest of the body. So, to make sure it was topped off, I ate. A lot. So much so that I had a permanent stomach ache for days.
I didn't exercise, as that would use up the physical energy needed to produce chakra. Instead, I meditated, molding the chakra inside of me like a potter would clay, without letting any of it escape.
Now that I knew my canals—pathways were the correct term apparently, but I prefer my water metaphors—had a bit of resilience, I tried to expand them, manipulating my internal chakra to inflate them almost like a balloon. But carefully. As soon as I felt the slightest trace of pain, I would move onto another segment, focused around the Gate of View.
My thought process was that, if I increased the size of my canals around the gate, I could trick the organ into thinking I didn't have enough chakra, which would stimulate production. The plan was stupid, and, in retrospect, it was obvious it wouldn't work.
Attempting to trick the system ended in failure, so next I tried to work within it. I scoured the medical texts Kazuhiro gifted me, trying to find what factors caused the Gate to signal for the increased production of chakra. I found frustratingly little, but there were a couple of gems hidden within the text that was otherwise drier than Suna.
The Gate of View had canals leading directly to nine tenketsu aside from the other gates. Which was cool because, unlike the gates, I could actually manipulate those. Allegedly, there was some degree of communication between these tenketsu and the gate, observed in a study I bet had been conducted in Konoha and stolen by a spy.
Though the study itself was convoluted, it suggested that, to an extent, the gate used these tenketsu as a sort of antenna to gauge the body's overall level of chakra. So, theoretically, if I could move the chakra out of them, the Gate might think I was near the point of chakra exhaustion and increase production.
Something that was a lot easier said than done. I doubt that emptying just one tenketsu would be enough; I would have to do multiple, perhaps even all nine of them. To make matters worse, they were all spread evenly through my torso, which might as well have been an entire ocean as far as my little submarine was concerned.
I devoted the rest of the day to figuring out how to do just one. I clenched my tenketsu, this one right underneath my ribs (referred to as Tenketsu Sixty-Five), and tried to direct my chakra. Strangely, it didn't want to go further into my chakra network; it wanted to push through the barrier of my skin altogether. I think this was due to the orientation of the organ. It was like a valve that accepted a substance from two sources, but released it in a single, different direction.
But I didn't want to release the chakra outside of my body. That would be a waste, and counterproductive if I wanted to amass chakra. But my submarines were proof that I could potentially coax chakra back into my body and through the canals. Only, there was a big difference between making a simple ripple in a pool and squeegeeing all the water into another place entirely. It felt unnatural and intense. The chakra didn't want to cooperate, and if my concentration lapsed, I would lose my hold of it immediately.
And, of course, keeping the chakra away from the tenketsu was almost as difficult as getting it out in the first place. I persevered nonetheless, but just before I finally managed it, I was shaken out of my trance by Akane-obasan, who proclaimed that it was time for dinner.
Annoyed with myself as much as I was with her, I grudgingly forced myself to eat copious amounts of the roast she served. Mindful eating was usually a technique used to control excessive eating, but I used it now to consume more, focusing on the taste rather than the discomfort in my belly.
Getting this technique—which might not even produce my desired end result—down would take all of the time I had left. I would effectively be putting all of my eggs in the basket.
Well, when in shonen, do as the shonens do.
I waved off Akane-obasan's concern (I had barely said three sentences since I realized how unfair sexy-sensei's challenge was) and left for an early night. A year ago, I had upgraded to my own room, which I still hadn't gotten around to decorating. My bed was a lot bigger than it needed to be for my size, not that I complained in the least, and there were heavy-duty blackout curtains that stifled every last ray of the morning sun.
I didn't actually fall asleep. Instead, like I had every night, I meditated into the wee hours of dawn, finally forcing and keeping most of my chakra away from the tenketsu. It felt uncomfortable, almost like a loss of circulation.
Then, I realized my chakra, in the segment of the canal connecting Tenketsu Sixty-Five to the Gate of View, was getting backed up. Hurriedly, I dropped the technique before something important could explode.
Well, that would be a problem.
- - - { ワナビー } - - -
AN: And so ensues all of the mental gymnastics I've had to perform to wrap my head around the tenketsu/chakra network. I hope the explanations were even slightly coherent—please let me know in the comments if not.