Quality Time [Will only/nk]

Gen walked slowly through the outskirts of the village, passively admiring the day. It was quiet and warm today, the sun shining though not oppressively. Honestly, the weather pleased him only in that it could have been much worse, much hotter, and much brighter. Still, when living in a land named for fire and known for rather hot weather, one could not complain too much at the days like today. He did anyway. He did not feel happy with the weather or the sun or the heat. Still, he found himself roaming the village and moving towards the less populated parts of the village.

There he saw another, a singular boy, sitting down. A rather large pond was nearby and the two ended up in a bit of a grassy meadow, lovely trees sprouting all about. Makoto, if the older man remembered correctly. Rash, wide-eyed, and in possession of unique blood. Blood that he could control, if the man recalled. Odd, to say the least, but interesting. Very interesting. The boy seemed to be waiting, not doing much of anything, as Gen approached, speaking as he came closer. [color#75a319]”Hello hello, Makoto. What brings you out here today?”[/color]

”Suiton, huh? Yes, I do know some techniques within that field of ninjutsu.” He paused to give a long look at the man near him, sizing him up, evaluating him. He had no idea what elements this kid had and had only seen him fight, if he could have been said to have fought, on a singular occasion. ”First though, what elements do you have? And what, exactly, is your preferred method of combat?” He looked on, waiting for a response from this other man. To know what he needed would help him evaluate what techniques would be most effective. He recalled that he, at least on some level, enjoyed close physical combat, so some of the longer ranged techniques may not be quite as useful.

He would smirk as the boy talked, claiming that he was, in many more words, adaptable on the battlefield. Admirable, he supposed, though people simply had strengths and weaknesses. If he preferred close combat, than that was simply that. If not, then he should specialize more highly. Regardless, the older man would shrug as he thought to himself, pleased that Makoto possessed, at least, the correct nature to learn. ”Eager are we? Alright then, I suppose I can show you a few tricks. I honestly do not much use the water element, though it is phenomenally versatile. So, what would you rather learn first? Offense? Defense? A supplementary skill?” He paused, thinking. Surely this boy could simply learn from a scroll, though Gen supposed that he had nothing else to do today, so training the kid was a fine use of his time. Plus, Makoto was… interesting in a way that many other in the village were not. He had a strange spark to him and a killer edge that hovered just below psychotic killer, which made him somewhat thrilling.

Supplementary techniques would be where they would begin then, as Makoto said he needed a few of these. Gen smiled fully at this comment, pleased that Makoto had made the decision. Yogensha himself was a practitioner of a large amount of supplementary techniques and believed them to be, in general, some of the most effective abilities that a shinobi could have. ”Hm… supplementary. Alright then, I suppose we could start basically. Hiding in water is an ability you have likely heard of before, and it allows a warrior to conceal himself within even a tiny puddle of water. It’s quite useful for stealth and become increasingly effective the more water is around.

He conferred the couple seals to the man he was instructing, telling him how to move his hands before showing him how to move his chakra. ”Perform the seals and focus water chakra throughout your whole body. Focus it particularly upon the edges of your body and allow yourself to blur the lines between you and the surface of the water. Don’t actually enter the water though, simply slip between the surface and the depths. It sounds a little strange, but you’ll get the hang of it.” Gen crossed his arms, gesturing over to the pond that was near the two shinobi. He would watch to see how well Makoto did on his first attempt with special note paid to what mistakes, if any, he made.

He watched as the boy attempted the technique, following his seals astutely and trying to move his chakra in the correct way. There was a pause as he focused the energy about his person and then, after he had done so, Makoto moved towards the water and began to slip into it. Not entirely, but it was a good start. Better than some, to say the least, especially when considering that his natural element was not that of water. Still, it would need to be perfected before the pair could move on to more advanced abilities. ”More or less like that, yes. Now step out and do it again. This time don’t hesitate when you enter, simply do it. Don’t hesitate when you mold the chakra, just allow your body to do it. Go again and do it faster.” He kept his arms crossed as he watched once more. If the boy was serious about learning, he would need to do it properly, and in Gen’s eyes, a technique was not properly learned until it could be performed at a moment’s notice, under the pressure of battle of even extensive torture. The boy was a decently quick learned, but he had a long way to go if he was going to master the element.

If nothing else, the boy seemed a hard worker. After doing a technique half-assed for the first time, many people simply gave up and decided that they had learned it. They had not. To learn something was to understand it, to fully imbibe its principles, to be able to alter it and shape it to your will. To learn a technique was to see its variations in your mind and to make them a reality. Many never even got to the stage of capability with an ability that allowed them to use it reflexively. Gen was, for the moment, pleased with Makoto’s tenacity, though it was too soon to establish if such tenacity would last. Still, the kid was doing well for now at least.

”Yes, well done. It looks that you have the basics of the technique down rather well, but make sure that you practice it at a later date to maximize retention.” He paused, thinking about what more to instruct on. He was not usually an instructor and rarely deigned to teach people what he knew. He never needed to, actually, due to his standing within his clan. Things were most often done for him, not by him, even if he despised it. ”Hm… perhaps a defensive technique for now. This ability is called water encampment wall and is a powerful defense, especially against fire. It has only one seal, tiger, so you must focus your chakra properly in a single instance. Then, you spit out the water you formed in your gullet, using the chakra you shaped to force the outrushing wave into a defensive form. I usually select a partial dome, though it offers flexibility.”

Makoto went about the next technique that Gen instructed him on with gusto, attempting it a few times to a mix of results. For someone so new to the element, he seemed to pick up on it rather quickly, though he of course had a very long way yet to go in mastery or even proficiency over the element. Still, practicing with the water release was admirable as it provided great flexibility, allowing one to adapt to nearly any situation with little else at his or her disposal. Makoto went at the technique once again, forming the wall of water. This technique was a difficult one, high ranking and strong, and it required only one seal, making it even harder.

”This one will probably take you longer as it’s much more difficult than the previous. Make sure to focus on your chakra intensely. Feel exactly what it’s doing in your body. It can help to break it down into steps as well. Spend some time not worrying about the end result, but simply forming the seal and readying your chakra in that same instant, over and over again. Become comfortable with it before you actually expel the technique.” He had little idea if this would work as he generally received all of his jutsu either as gifts from the beyond or as a direct result of his apparent genius. Still, the advice was sound and he’d heard many a teacher deliver something similar. It should would for this fellow shinobi.

His mind wavered momentarily at the boy’s words, a sudden, primal rage overflowing within him. The questions, the sudden knowledge, the specific name of his secret technique, it all struck him as odd that this young man should know so much. It put him on edge, in fact, and he felt his fingers burn, felt his blood rush and his vision tint, he felt the Old One rouse and stir, shattering the world as it did so. The emotions pleased the thing, for now at least, and it woke from a slumber, casting a mind shattering eye upon Makoto, the blood warrior standing brazenly before him.

Kukuku. Here, take this.

Suddenly his mind filled, filled with terrible and unspeakable things; with floating cities; with vast, endless darknesses upon which madness came to those who peered into them; filled with stars and light and awful shapes; with object that could not be described, that transcended the normalcy of reality, that defied reason and bent the mind. He saw them, these things, these rushing words and instant madnesses, so the insanity of it all as his mind opened wide, pried apart like a rusted door with a crowbar, squeaking and squealing in protest but opening all the same. Knowledge flowed into him, knowledge of awful, beautiful words that took no mortal or linguistic form, knowledge of illusions and hallucinations and the blurry lined between them and reality. He saw the trees being ripped apart, destroyed and made powerful.

And then, suddenly as it began, the vision was gone and Makoto stood before him, no time having passed than a simple breath being drawn. His face and body betrayed nothing as he peered on, hearing the end of the boy’s question. He knew things now, terrible thing, and the beast wanted blood. He blinked once, twice, and then a third time, righting himself, partially, to the world once more. They’d sailed off and away into dangerous waters. Careful treading had become, quite suddenly, a necessity of the conversation. He hesitated for a moment longer, thinking about the request, about his need to know about this mysterious informant, about this knowledge of his secret abilities.

”I’m curious to know how you came upon this knowledge, but yes, I do not the shadow clone technique, and no, what I have used in the past is not so…simple.” He turned to gaze out over the small pond to his right. ”I cannot teach you, however. It is not something that can be taught, not something one can simply learn. Rather, one must discover it for himself.” He pivoted once more, leveling the man with his gaze. ”Ripping yourself in two is not a smart idea most of the time. It causes… certain strains on the mind and body.” He paused once more, letting the information sink in and allowing for any questioning before continuing. ”But yes, I suppose this technique may be too difficult. I do not know many mid level water technique, and I do not have the lightning element myself, so I fear that I may not have much more to teach you, at least for now.”

Do it.

The words, less than words and more of pounding echoes, moved through his head. They pounded into his skull and ricocheted off of his brain. His world shook, with one exception: Makoto.

Kill him.

The man felt his fingers twitch, felt a hundred technique burn under his skin and at the tips of his digits. He could wipe this smug idiot from the face of the earth in an instant. He could crush him, could strangle him, could reduce him to a sobbing mess, could bend him and break him. The dumb kid could not stop him, could not prevent the coming death. Nothing would save him. He could feel it, could feel the death and blood, the destruction, the rent flesh and broken bones. He could feel the forest retake the body, the bugs feeding upon the corpse. No one was around. No one would help. No one would hear him scream.

KILL HIM. Do it. You must. Claim his soul.

Here he was. Yogensha. Fucking. Senju. One of the most powerful members of his clan. One of the most powerful people in the village. A living god. Here he was, wasting his time teaching an idiotic ingrate, a fool with talent given only by his strange blood, a talent which Gen increasingly came to realize he had no need of. While interesting, controlling his own blood paled in comparison to some other things that the man could already do. No, this was charity. This was worse than charity. If it were charity he’d at least get some kind of positive PR for it. No, this was something much, much more obnoxious.

This was a waste of time.

Kill him.

His fingers still itched to rip the face of the boy off, to let his well spout of blood gush from his body. The boy, in the middle of Gen’s talking, simply turned around and started to walk away. He started to walk away. While. Gen. Was. Talking. Never, in his entire life, had he been treated so rudely. He had literally killed people, actually put blades to their throats and murdered them in cold blood for money, who were kinder and more accommodating than this. As the man turned to leave, breaking off Gen’s question, his eyes narrowed a splitting pain that was not painful ripped into his head, the Old One commanding the death of the perpetrator. That would look bad.

And that was true, killing this poor whelp would certainly look bad. He doubted that the village would brand him as a traitor, in fact in all likelihood no one would ever find out. But regardless, even were word to get around, Gen was prominent and powerful enough not to be kicked out of the village and no one was foolish enough to hunt him. No, he could kill the boy, if he wanted to, but in all reality it would prove unwise. For one, Ryujin would find it distasteful, to say the least, and at least for now the man remained the head of the clan. He had a great deal of sway but, moreover, Gen had no desire to anger the man. The two were, essentially, friends, and Gen did not want to ruin this by murdering a dunce. Additionally, he had no desire to anger the other man and ruin some of the privilege he was given for this alliance. On the other hand, killing Makoto would do nothing; he could, at virtually any time, be disposed of. He posed little to no threat to the man and he frankly, as the back of Makoto’s head turned to face him fully, felt the rage cool into boredom. He simply was not worth killing, both for the energy it would require to expend in the murder, but also for the fallout which would happen. Even disposing of the body seemed an absolute waste of time right now.

And so he let him leave. The Old One protested for but a moment before finally deciding that this was, in fact, the appropriate response to the situation. I hate humans, you know. I hate this. You should kill him. He deserves it, you can do it, there should not be these other factors to consider. Ryujin and the village, they don’t matter, they shouldn’t matter. I hate your stupid affairs and the stupid webs you all weave. I cannot wait to be free of it, for you to be free of it. Gen nodded alone with the words, watching Makoto move wordlessly back into the village, his eyes narrowed in a hateful gaze. I hate you humans so much.

”I hate them too.” He said quietly. No one was around to hear it and Makoto was not nearly close enough to register the comment. But The Old One could. ”I hate them too.” He turned to leave.

The thing began to laugh subtly, a kind of giggle more than anything. Good good. I suppose you’re right. I shouldn’t lump you in with them anymore. As he left, his mind filled even more with otherwise forbidden knowledge.