Heritage

[7eleven]

Chapter 1: The Immutable Night Sky

Satori had been walking for days, nothing save the stars above to accompany him as he slept on the cold ground under the flimsy shelter of his travel tent and ate old rations. There were a lot of things that Satori didn't miss about about the village life, but he most certainly did miss his bed and his kitchen. Looking down the path, he saw no signs of life on the distance. The villages and settlements were growing further and further apart as he traveled towards the fringes of the Lightning Empire. He decided that he would need to start carrying more and better supplies. A more comfortable tent. Hell, a cot. Some cooking supplies, a few small pots and some spices. God, his feet felt heavy. He wanted nothing but to lay his head down on a real bed.

He lifted his hand to reflexively adjust his Hitai-ate, the bare skin of his forehead reminding him that he no longer wore it- it had been several months now since he left the village, but after having worn it for so many years it came as no surprise that he found it difficult to shake the muscle memory. He still felt the sting of the absolute lack of resistance from the village on his way out- without the Shigogenma, even the village saw him without worth. After all, he had done his job- the child soldier had slaughtered the soldiers that the village needed him to slaughter, and once his body rejected the chakra beast that he hosted, he was of no further use. He had no secrets to abscond with, so secret jutsu to sell to nukenin. Hell, he had spent the past year reteaching himself to control his chakra after the removal of the genma nearly destroyed his chakra circulatory system.

In a single practiced and fluid motion, Satori pulled his pipe from its pocket on the inside of his kimono and clamped it between his teeth as he plopped down on the side of the road with a sigh. He dug his fingers into the small canvas satchel he kept strapped to his waist and fished out a hearty pinch of tobacco blended with dried black tea and hibiscus petals for flavor. He channeled a small amount of handseals to light a small flame at the tip of his finger- causing a sharp pain to shoot through his body, breaking his concentration and causing him to fumble the Katon jutsu. He was only able to conjure a fleeting wisp of fire, barely enough to illuminate his knuckles for a fraction of a second. Even with no one around to see him, Satori felt a heavy sense of embarrassment. He felt the muscles at the base of his neck tighten as he braced for the mocking voice of Ryeunso. The voice, of course, did not come- just as it had not for the past 2 years. Would he ever shake this damned beast?

Even the simplest of jutsu caused a strain on his body. It had taken him a long time to retrain how to use even simple techniques, and it still caused him a great deal of pain. He had hoped it would become easier over time, but some days the pain felt unbearable. He had begun to fear that this condition would only grow worse. In a pitiful recognition of his fate, Satori abandoned the Katon jutsu and pulled a small matchbook from his belt and lit his pipe. The smoke brought him a much welcome sense of relief and just enough of a buzz to distract from his shame.

It was the sort of crisp, clear sky that reminded him of his grandfather. The two of them in Sumi's rooftop tea garden, before Satori was selected as as a Jinchuuriki. He imagined what his life might have been like had he lived it the way his grandfather likely wished he would have. Sumi was not a shinobi himself, and never quite understood the appeal. He certainly wouldn't have wished the burden of the genma on him. Hell, if it was up to old man Sumi, Satori would have quit the shinobi life, married young, and spent his days tending the tea and hibiscus on the roof. He'd have had so much more time to read, to practice origami. He could have lived a modest life. A happy life. When Satori was given his Hitai-ate, he...just wanted to make his family proud. How could he have known that it would obligate him the taming of a legendary demon, the installation of an emperor, the conquering of a nation? At least he wouldn't have had to go to war.

Satori was jolted away from his peaceful reminiscence back his first war assignment, tasked with defending a large Kumo garrison from Lightning Country samurai...he remembered seeing the shifting mass approach in the night, too dark to make out individual people. But when he rained Raiton down upon them, the lightning lighting up their faces in agony as they fell, dead, or dying, or wounded. He could still remember them, twisted from pain in ways he had never seen before. He had been in fights, sure- but it was the first time he had killed someone in the line of duty, and he had killed many people in the span of a single moment. And he didn't stop. No one did. The night became a cacophony of death wails. Some so loud and full of anger you could hear thing echo out from a quarter mile away, others so quiet that only he heard them. Those were the worst ones. You could hear the sadness in their gasps, see the realization of eternal loneliness in their eyes.

It wasn't fair, putting people like him against people like that. A trained shinobi against men armed with roughshod armor and mediocre swords. He sighed again, and took another long draw from his pipe. In those moments, he felt like he had to do those things. What if he hadn't, and those samurai weren't defeated at the garrison? It could have been the turning point in the war that would lead to the eradication Kumogakure no Sato. But now...he saw that his presence was irrelevant. Even though he was a Jinchuuriki, he was still only a Chuunin. Had he not been there, his spot would have been filled by another. Nothing would have changed. The war was an inevitability set in motion by years of tense relations, originating before Satori was even born. And the outcome would have been the same regardless. He was just one more soldier in a sea of many.

Satori finished his smoke, cleared the bowl of the pipe, and tucked it back into his shirt pocket. He considered setting up camp but decided against it- his head was in an awful mess tonight and he knew he'd be restless, too preoccupied with the things he had done and the things he hadn't done. And as tired as he was, as much as his feet hurt... it sounded preferable to lying awake on the hard ground all night. So he hoisted himself to his feet, did a few light stretches to wake himself up, and set back off down the path. A few hours later, Satori was relieved to come across a small village. But being the middle of the night, introductions would need to wait for the morning. He set up his travel tent a bit outside the village, but close enough that he would be visible.

[7eleven]

Chapter 2: Discovering Atonement

Satori awoke the next morning and stuck his head out of the tent to see the view and was immediately met with the sight of an older burly with crossed arms. "Hmph." The man twisted his mouth in contemplation and squinted his eyes at the young shinobi. "Ya left me waitin' long enough there didn' ya? You always sleep in this late?"

"Um, no, I'm usually awake much earlier. Sorry about that." Satori gave a short laugh and ambled out of the tent before giving a respectful bow to the man, who seemed to not expect the gesture. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, his facial muscles relaxing as he started to think that maybe this kid wasn't so bad. A little too formal, maybe. But he seemed to mean well. "I'm sorry to bother you, it's just that I-"

"Yer a shinobi." The man said in a matter-of-fact tone. As he spoke, Satori tried to size the man up. He much shorter than him, though most were. Thick arms and fingers, the hands of a man who worked his entire life. His body was littered with minor scars, likely from work mishaps. Clothes made of thick, sturdy cloth- well worn but still perfectly functional. White hair, but mostly bald anyway. His thick beard still peppered with a bit of color. A hard-working, practical man. "Ya jus don' make it this far out here, wearin' clothes like that-" He paused to point at Satori, gesturing at his clothes which he had, in fact, made from very high quality materials. "-unless you know how to take care of yourself. And you're alone, so I figure you're at least pretty good at what you do."

"I figure you're lookin' to stay here for a few nights to get some decent rest after footin' it around for however long you've been footin' it around for. And the answer is yes, you can stay for just as long as you're willing to work. I figure you're strong enough to cut wood and I could use a break."

Satori was impressed by the man- both smart and wise. And practical, as he figured. "If you let me rest for today, and give me a good meal, then I will complete any tasks you ask of me. My name is Sunakimi, Satori."

"Umai. But you can call me Old Pa. All the other kids do."

In other circumstances, Satori may have protested being referred to as a kid- but given the circumstances, he didn't want to risk getting on this man's bad side. Especially after having so easily lucked into being on the man's good side.

[7eleven]

Chapter 3: A Foolish Quiet

[7eleven]

Chapter 4: Inevitable

[7eleven]

Chapter 5:

[7eleven]

Chapter 6: A New Beginning to the Same Story