SOO SOOPER LATE! part 1murinaeNovember 15 2007, 01:26:32 UTC
Sorry that it's a bit late! It's not as much of a Halloween fic, but one inspired by November rain (or the wish for November rain!) and the fact that it's Armistice/Veteran's/Remembrance day in many countries. Hopefully, plain ninja is okay? I'll try pirates next time?
----
The grey light of morning hinted at the rain that was to soon come. The air tasted slightly metallic with ozone; the ground was damp from the rain that had come before. Hikaru could make out his breath, misting white in the chilly dawn air. Hands and arms held awkwardly to his side, he picked his way uneasily across the rooftops. The water made the tiles especially slick. In the distance, half hidden by the dark shape of the sodden trees, was the wall.
Every ninja village had one, though not all of them took the form of names on walls. Some were larger than most, and the names more recognizable, but no matter what the village, hidden or not, they had a place to remember those who had fallen in action or had lived their lives to battle.
He could feel the flare of other chakara signals, but they gave him his privacy; this too, was an unspoken commonality in all villages. Unlike the others, though, Hikaru felt a little out of place. The other shadows were here to honor someone they knew, someone they had perhaps fought with or fought for ... and hopefully not fought against.
He was probably the only one to not really know any names on the wall -- at least not personally. Of course, he knew of some of the names -- it was hard not to, living in a Hidden Village, the names of its heroes were spoken even by the "common" people.
And everyone knew the name he was visiting. Commoner background or not.
Shuusaku, Torajiro
The fifth Ishikage.
The seal on his chest flared almost to the point of burning, and he nearly slipped on the tiles. As it was, he had to kneel against the wet, cold stone, scowling as he pounded the spot, coughing.
"Stop it! We won't be able to visit at all if I fall," he muttered. It took a few more minutes and a few deep breaths before he could stand again. He brushed his dress pants off absently; the water soaked into a deep dark patch where he had knelt -- much like blood. "Great, I look like I skinned my knees."
After another long moment spent clenching and unclenching his fists, Hikaru gathered up his strength and continued until to his destination.
The words weren't very fancy; the marker was not ornate. Unlike other villages, who sculpted faces into rocks or had huge towering monuments to their leaders, the village of Hidden Stone chose to honor their past leaders with a simple name on engraved on a smooth, black stone. Currently, there were eight black stones set in a semi-circle around the main wall.
Torajiro's stone was no different than the other ishikage, and it felt like a normal, cold stone when Hikaru knelt down to touch it. The only difference was the hot, nearly molten flare in his chest. He gritted his teeth.
Fujiwara no Sai had personally known the first five ishikage. He had been their summon, the ultimate weapon of the endless justsu, and a part of the reason that Hidden Stone had been so feared and powerful in the past. There were whispers, too, that if the sixth ishikage had access to the summon during the Great War . . . if they could just access that power ...
But those were no more than whispers, really. And Hikaru tried not to hear them.
Hikaru staggered to his feet, heading for the first four stones, touching them in turn as the voice in his head murmurred, calling old names as if they were friends that could still answer. Centuries meant nothing; it was something different from grief.
Stone by stone, he stopped to put a hand on its surface. Stone by stone, even though he did not know any of the faces behind the kanji. Stone by stone, listening to that keening voice that only he could hear. Finally, he knelt again at Torajiro's stone, the damp ground soaking his pants.
He wasn't aware of how cold he was (all his world consisted of was that heated spot just above his heart, twisting, twisting) until the flak jacket was dropped on his shoulders.
He looked up and nearly fell on his ass in the mud when he found the cool, calculating grey eyes staring down at him.
----
The grey light of morning hinted at the rain that was to soon come. The air tasted slightly metallic with ozone; the ground was damp from the rain that had come before. Hikaru could make out his breath, misting white in the chilly dawn air. Hands and arms held awkwardly to his side, he picked his way uneasily across the rooftops. The water made the tiles especially slick. In the distance, half hidden by the dark shape of the sodden trees, was the wall.
Every ninja village had one, though not all of them took the form of names on walls. Some were larger than most, and the names more recognizable, but no matter what the village, hidden or not, they had a place to remember those who had fallen in action or had lived their lives to battle.
He could feel the flare of other chakara signals, but they gave him his privacy; this too, was an unspoken commonality in all villages. Unlike the others, though, Hikaru felt a little out of place. The other shadows were here to honor someone they knew, someone they had perhaps fought with or fought for ... and hopefully not fought against.
He was probably the only one to not really know any names on the wall -- at least not personally. Of course, he knew of some of the names -- it was hard not to, living in a Hidden Village, the names of its heroes were spoken even by the "common" people.
And everyone knew the name he was visiting. Commoner background or not.
Shuusaku, Torajiro
The fifth Ishikage.
The seal on his chest flared almost to the point of burning, and he nearly slipped on the tiles. As it was, he had to kneel against the wet, cold stone, scowling as he pounded the spot, coughing.
"Stop it! We won't be able to visit at all if I fall," he muttered. It took a few more minutes and a few deep breaths before he could stand again. He brushed his dress pants off absently; the water soaked into a deep dark patch where he had knelt -- much like blood. "Great, I look like I skinned my knees."
After another long moment spent clenching and unclenching his fists, Hikaru gathered up his strength and continued until to his destination.
The words weren't very fancy; the marker was not ornate. Unlike other villages, who sculpted faces into rocks or had huge towering monuments to their leaders, the village of Hidden Stone chose to honor their past leaders with a simple name on engraved on a smooth, black stone. Currently, there were eight black stones set in a semi-circle around the main wall.
Torajiro's stone was no different than the other ishikage, and it felt like a normal, cold stone when Hikaru knelt down to touch it. The only difference was the hot, nearly molten flare in his chest. He gritted his teeth.
Fujiwara no Sai had personally known the first five ishikage. He had been their summon, the ultimate weapon of the endless justsu, and a part of the reason that Hidden Stone had been so feared and powerful in the past. There were whispers, too, that if the sixth ishikage had access to the summon during the Great War . . . if they could just access that power ...
But those were no more than whispers, really. And Hikaru tried not to hear them.
Hikaru staggered to his feet, heading for the first four stones, touching them in turn as the voice in his head murmurred, calling old names as if they were friends that could still answer. Centuries meant nothing; it was something different from grief.
Stone by stone, he stopped to put a hand on its surface. Stone by stone, even though he did not know any of the faces behind the kanji. Stone by stone, listening to that keening voice that only he could hear. Finally, he knelt again at Torajiro's stone, the damp ground soaking his pants.
He wasn't aware of how cold he was (all his world consisted of was that heated spot just above his heart, twisting, twisting) until the flak jacket was dropped on his shoulders.
He looked up and nearly fell on his ass in the mud when he found the cool, calculating grey eyes staring down at him.
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