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Chapter 2
and I'll be your light, you'll be home
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64年1月24日
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Home is quiet when he arrives.
They— Okan, Aneki, Fuguki-oji, and him— live in the outer circle of Kirigakure, just where it borders the residential area of the chūtō. Rows and rows of timeworn, low-rise buildings line narrow maze roads, their once-vibrant façades now weathered and worn with neglect. Faded paint peels from the walls.
Up above, laundry lines crisscross. They hold mostly traditional linen clothes, worn and weary, dull and muted in colour— you only really find blues, greys, greens, blacks, or browns in Kiri. Natural colours. Only the purefolk wear more extravagant colours as you can find in Kumo or Suna, like purples, pinks, yellows, or gold and silver.
In the specific block where Akuto lives, you find mostly other ninja— discernible by the bandages, and pinstripe and cow-print gear cluttering the laundry lines— since it's closer to the village proper. To where the Academy lies. As well as the mission board and the Mizukage Tower, the largest building in the village, painted a dark purple.
A massive wall surrounds Kiri itself, with mountains to the back and a forest surrounding the rest, similar to Konoha. Unlike Konoha, though, Kiri prides itself on confusing streets and ubiquitous mists. It keeps any unwanted foreigners out— that is, if they make it to the village in the first place. According to Okan, Kiri is the only big village actually hidden. Probably has to do with the fact that Kiri doesn't do Chūnin Exams.
Anyway. Kiri is separated into three… circles, Akuto would say. Wards or districts work as well. The innermost circle, Uchigawa— the one that lies safely against the mountains in the northernmost part of Kiri— is where the kachū live; the middle circle, Nakagawa, that surrounds the kachū is where the chūtō live; and finally, the outer circle Sotogawa of the katō that fills up the rest of the village, all the way to the wall, where the slums— Saigawa— lie. The further you go to the centre, the rounder and better the buildings get.
"'Cuse me, Nii-san," a quiet voice says. Next to him stands a dirty child, not even half his height, dressed in clothes that can barely be classified as rags, with empty brown eyes, and a shorn head to keep away lice. One of the many, many kids from Saigawa. "Could ya spare some ryō?"
Akuto's heart clenches. "Sure," he says with a gentle smile. He reaches for the insides of his shorts where he hides a small money pouch. Kiri is a haven for thieves. Little fingers that slip into your pockets and reach for your purse if you don't pay attention for the slightest of seconds.
He gives the kid eight hundred ryō. "What's ya name?" he asks, because he's a bloody idiot.
"Kiri."
Akuto tilts his head and flicks Kiri's forehead. "Nice to meet ya, Kiri-cchi."
Kiri smiles brighter than the spring sun. "Ya too, Nii-san! Thanks for the ryō!" Akuto notices a small beauty spot on the tip of Kiri's nose.
He watches as Kiri runs off, hides his pouch again, and enters the apartment complex. It's a pretty standard building with five floors that house three flats each. Much like anything in Kiri, it's moist and mouldy.
But it's home.
Their flat is on the fifth floor. It's actually two— Fuguki-oji used some Earth Release jutsu to connect the two units into one. They have five bedrooms and a sitting room now, rather than just two bedrooms and a sitting room, a kitchen, and a decent bathroom. Their living room— where Okan likes to host her guests with traditional tea ceremonies— is mostly empty, except for a chabudai, a few green zabuton, a kamidana, and a butsudan. He is usually in the room only when their days of death come around, to pay his respects.
He closes the front door and leans against it with a sigh. The day took far more out of him than he thought; the anger draining him like sand seeping through a leaky sieve. He can't wait for the day he leaves that shitshow behind. Honestly, what was Okan thinking?
He takes off his blue open-toed sandals, standard issue, and trades them for linen slippers. "I'm home," he shouts, his mouth watering at the smell of fresh fried salmon wafting towards him. Two pairs of standard-issue boots stand by the shoe rack; Okan and Fuguki-oji are back from their mission, then. Aneki not yet.
Speaking of the devil, Fuguki-oji leans against the doorframe of the hallway. He is tall, almost two and a half metres tall (about a metre taller than him!) and has a strangely fishlike appearance— because gods forbid anything in Kiri is not water-themed. Fuguki has small, round eyes, six green stripes on his cheeks that Akuto is pretty sure is war paint, and orange hair so long it'd make Rapunzel weep in jealousy. Much like any swordsman, Fuguki-oji had part of his hair pinned up in space buns, with the pins also serving as weapons. Sneaky, these ninja.
He's in his off-duty clothes, a simple brown kimono and black hakama. He isn't even wearing his ugly-ass pinstripe leg and arm warmers, Akuto notices with delight.
Fuguki-oji grins, showing off jagged teeth. "Welcome back," he says, voice low and rough.
Akuto returns it. "What's on the cards for dinner?"
"Hiyu made fried rice with salmon." Fuguki-oji wrinkles his nose. "And nattō."
"Eugh."
"Nattō is good for you," Okan says from the kitchen, an amused lilt to her controlled voice.
Fuguki-oji and Akuto share a glance and decide that, one, they don't really care if nattō is good for their health, and two, not to disagree with Okan. They walk to the kitchen, Akuto happily talking about random facts he learned at some point or the other to distract them both from the war, if only for a few seconds, and then set the table.
Their kitchen is rather basic, hosting a stove, an oven, a small fridge, and a table just large enough to seat four. It smells of freshly brewed green tea, grassy and soothing.
Okan smiles from where she stands; Akuto can see her reflection in the window. She has long black hair and purple eyes— though in the right light, they shine blue— and sharp, jagged teeth. He looks a lot like her, actually, only with brown hair. Okan's beautiful, of course, with a sharp jawline, pale skin, and high cheekbones, but not enough to stand out too much; just unremarkable enough to turn into blurry pictures and vague memories. Fuguki-oji says it makes her perfect for her job.
Akuto doesn't quite know how to feel about that.
"Welcome back," she says and hands him a worn porcelain yunomi. The warm tea is hot against his cold skin, the heat worming its way to his bones. Shivers run down his spine. He didn't realise he is this cold.
He sits down at the table, tilts his chair against the off-white wall and holds the yunomi close, against his chest. Okan hands out the food and they dig in with a quiet, formal, "Thank you for the food."
It's delicious as always. He takes care not to wolf it down— Okan doesn't like it— despite his stomach gnawing with hunger. Fighting always leaves him hungry and exhausted, more so when he uses loads of chakra, like he did today.
"You're back," he says, stating the obvious.
Okan smiles. "About an hour ago, yes. How was your day?"
"Could be worse." Akuto shrugs. "Had a scrap with Moyashi Daiki while sparring— might stir up some trouble. Dunno for sure, though," he adds, just as a bit of a heads up.
Fuguki-oji sighs. "Yasuharu's kid?"
"He is the only Moyashi child of that age at the Academy," Okan says, taking some more of the nattō.
"You'll be fine," Fuguki-oji says, giving Akuto a long, scrutinising look. "Yasuharu won't risk bringing more shame on them. And Daiki's not the sort to snitch after takin' a beating." He gestures toward Akuto's face. "Anybody sorted that yet?"
Akuto shakes his head. "Headed straight home— Hoshigaki Shizuki pulled me outta the dojo; Munashi ain't too keen on me."
Fuguki-oji sends Okan an almost unreadable Look. Okan ignores it, almost exasperated. Akuto glances between them, but before he can say anything, Okan continues, "He's bitter, jealous, and angry. Don't take it to heart."
"I won't," he promises. Then he frowns, thinking about what his uncle said. "Why'd a loss bring more shame on 'em? Aren't they related to the Shodai?"
Okan takes a sip of her green tea, closes her eyes in thought, and Akuto uses that moment to cast a small genjutsu, piles his nattō on hers, and ignores the pointed look Fuguki-oji gives him. After a few moments, Okan opens her eyes and shares a long look with Fuguki. It's different from the look before. They always do this, communicating with looks and not words.
"It's a right mess," Fuguki-oji ends up saying. No shit, Sherlock, Akuto thinks but doesn't say. "Yeah, they're kin to Byakuren-sama— Yasuharu's his only grandkid, I reckon. But that's the only thing makin' 'em… special. They ain't got the manpower like the Hoshigaki, have no fancy kekkei genkai or hiden, nor do they hold any of the Yōtō like the Setoka or Kinkan."
"So, they're shite?"
Okan gently flicks his forehead. "Primarily, they serve in administrative roles. Only Yasuharu, Yūji, and soon Daiki take on field duties."
"Never heard of 'em," Akuto says, frowning.
Fuguki chuckles. "They ain't abroad much these days."
The war. Yeah.
Auto leans as far away from Okan as he can. "So, they're shite cowards?" Okan flicks a nattō bean at his forehead. It sticks. He grumbles. Fuguki-oji shakes his head in amusement, green eyes shining.
"But yes," Okan says. "The other kachū perceive the Moyashi as possessing prestige solely in name, due to Byakuren-sama's accomplishments and influence. Consequently, this segregation isolates the Moyashi from both the kachū and the others—"
"—cause they'd rather die than mix with dirtbloods," Akuto finishes.
There is a brief pause.
"That's one way of putting it, yeah," Fuguki-oji says.
Oh, Akuto thinks, things finally clicking. That's why they made fun of Moyashi. They think Moyashi is shit, his whole clan losers and beneath them, and then Moyashi went ahead and lost to a katō mutt of all people. He snorts. Serves Moyashi right for being a bully.
Conversation continues as food disappears from plates and platters but is mostly kept light. They talk about gossip, ninja and civilian, and everything and nothing. When everyone finishes, Akuto cleans the table and washes up. Fuguki-oji does the shopping, Okan the cooking, and Akuto the cleaning. Yay, teamwork.
Okan kisses the crown of his head. "We're expecting company later. We'll be in the sitting room."
"Have fun," Akuto says, mentally preparing to not leave his room. It isn't that Okan doesn't want him out of his room but rather that he doesn't want to meet the people Okan is having over. Most of her friends are fine, if some a bit old-fashioned. But that Kaguya guy creeps him out.
Once he finishes the dishes, Akuto takes out the mango mochi from the fridge and walks to his room. Usually, he'd go out to train a bit, maybe work on some ongoing projects, but today he already accidentally used up a lot of chakra, so he settles on working through his chakra theory book instead.
His room is exactly how he left it. Cluttered; an organised chaos. If you asked his Okan, she'd tell you a chaotic room is the first sign you lost control of your life. He hasn't, though. Really. He swears on his ancestors, old and new.
It's a small room, but he made the most out of it. There's a hammock hanging between two walls, with a really comfortable blanket and a small pillow; if you see an otter plushie, no you don't. An old desk stands beneath a window, hosting loads of books, notation scrolls, and scrolls cluttered on it. Next to the desk stands a bookshelf which holds more books and scrolls—though some of those scrolls house his dead fish instead of a wealth of knowledge. The lowest board holds a few vials of poison, the ones common to Kiri. All self-made.
On the wall next to the door, hang his swords— his ninjatō and bokken— and a bow. Arrows are scattered on the floor next to a whetstone and blue zabuton. In a box nearby are dull, used kunai and a few senbon. Somewhere are a couple of bandages. Finally, there is an old dresser with a couple of clothes, but that's the least interesting bit of his room.
Akuto reaches for the book he is reading. He has no idea where Okan got it from— it's made of proper parchment, the expensive kind— but given her specialisation, Akuto doesn't really care enough to ask.
Anyway. Information in this world is sparse. Science isn't very developed. In fact, Akuto can safely say that Orochimaru— even if morally despicable— is the leading scientist, with Tsunade having completely revolutionised the medical field during the Second Ninja War. On her own. So, you have this meagre pool of advancement and knowledge to build from in the first place, and then you have to take into account the ninjas' willingness to share information.
That's what Akuto ends up with.
A whole lot of nothing.
Another problem is that the little information Akuto gets from the book is packaged into a whole lot of words. Kind of reminds him of uni. But. What information he does find is interesting. At least.
What is known and confirmed as fact is that there are three types of chakra: elemental, non-elemental, and medical. Elemental chakra is the most common in the world. You are born with it, but it manifests as whatever affinity you have. Of which, there are five and they create the so-called Chakra Nature Circle: fire, wind, lightning, earth and water; each superior to the next. Lastly, there are the two additional natures: yin and yang.
And as far as the ninja world is concerned, that was all there is to chakra.
Akuto doesn't think so. As far as he is concerned, there is much more to chakra than just that. It just seems so… lazy. Like someone dug up the first diamond and left with it to brag, yet unwittingly left behind a whole wealth of it. But, as he knows, it's not. There's tailed-beast chakra, because something that strong can't be anything but its own thing, and there's Ninshū.
Ninshū isn't really known anymore. He asked Okan and Fuguki-oji once, but neither of them knew what he was talking about, though Kaguya Suishō looked like the name rang a bell. But he had such a crazy look on him, Akuto didn't quite care enough about Ninshū to ask him. All he has on that is that Ninshū is connected to the Sage of the Six Paths and has to do with sharing emotions.
Anyway. Akuto knows there is more to chakra than just the tip of the iceberg discovered. In Before, he wasn't particularly good at physics— still isn't actually— but he does know that chakra allows them to do more than just manipulate and generate a certain element. Like, on a fundamental level. How does it work? What forces does chakra affect? What forces affect chakra? That sort of thing. Among others.
He is missing something. How else would you explain that mixing Wind Release and Water Release creates Ice Release? Yeah, wind cools water, but how do you get ice out of it and not just really cold water? What part of those two elements causes solidification? Why isn't it earth and water?
Honestly, he'd love to pick Orochimaru's brain on this whole matter.
Too bad they are enemies. And Orochi a raging psychopath.
Oh well.
He turns to the next page of his book, tucks himself into his hammock, and hopes for answers to his questions.
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Hiyu checks Akuto's location once more, just in case. She knows well he harbours no particular fondness for Suishō and won't leave his room until he's certain Suishō has gone. Still, she prefers to be sure.
With a firm click, she closes the living room, activates the privacy seals, and ignites the incense. It wafts through the air.
Dear Fuguki is already serving tea— a task she normally undertakes, but today he insisted. She allowed it, though part of her finds it unusual. Ao leans against the beige wall beneath the window, just far enough from the chabudai to avoid conversation. Being Kiri's only dōjutsu practitioner, he is indispensable to the Mizukage and seldom has even a few hours to himself, let alone an entire day.
She is pleased he can attend today.
Around the chabudai, Suishō and Rikiyo engage in conversation about matters that failed to pique Hiyu's interest sufficiently to warrant her attention. However, judging from the disinterested expression of Rikiyo, it likely involves warfare and tactics. She values Suishō as a friend, genuinely so, but he can be rather overwhelming.
She takes her seat beside Fuguki, her fingers curling around the delicate yunomi. The jasmine tea's fragrance is soothing, filling the room. Quietly, she inhales, centring herself.
Ao speaks, his voice cutting through the room. "We'll need a face. A leader. Someone strong, someone capable."
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A/N: Thank you for all the favourites and follows :)