Chapter One
The word temple evoked a certain mysticism. It brought to mind ancient stone that had been unearthed by hand, shaped by hand, and stacked by hand in order to make walls and a roof representative of the faith of those who worshiped within. Architecture aside, it had connection to the mind; speaking physiologically and metaphorically, the temple was the closest one could get to the mind, seemingly just a bit softer and closer to the seat of consciousness than any other point on the body.
As Renjiro Yamanaka stood atop a cliff, with a majestic waterfall to his right, pouring downward with battering force, and surveyed The Temple At Still Water's Edge, none of these things came to mind. He was disappointed, really. Situated a stone's throw from the edge of the waterfall's basin, it was entirely too modern looking for his taste. He'd expected massive stone pillars, statues of deities that no one but the backward monks inside worshiped, creeping, ancient ivy.
Instead, he'd found something that looked like a wilderness retreat for the moderately wealthy. It was pretty enough, with stands of trees and lush grass teeming around the hilly terrain, but it certainly didn't strike him as any more spiritual than any other patch of Waterfall Country.
He'd heard of the order of monks within several weeks before. It had been a curiosity, no more, to learn that a monastery existed so near to Henkou's base of operation. That curiosity had nagged at him though, nipped at his mental heels like some infuriating puppy, until finally he'd rationalized it as organization business and taken it upon himself to pay a visit.
Ostensibly, he was supposed to be ascertaining whether or not the presented a threat, or even if they could be co-opted when Henkou supplanted the government of Takigakure and took control. Even if they would be resistant but not particularly threatening, that would have been worthwhile intelligence as well.
In reality, Renji had a long standing grudge match between himself and religion. He was, undoubtedly, a paragon of the humanist philosophy. The idea of predestination offended him on a nearly cellular level, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to troll a temple full of monks.
So it was that he picked out a path down toward Still Waters. He'd opted to dress conservatively, in some simple, threadbare brown robes, and had brought with him a pack of seemingly meager possessions (his ninja tools and scroll case were, of course, hidden on his person in various places). He was a pilgrim, a wanderer who had heard tell of a place of worship and set out, hoping to find acceptance, and brotherhood, and his place in the universe, and all that happy horse shit.
Entering the temple proved absurdly easy. Rather than the expected massive stone slabs of doors, there was a very simple (if well-wrought) oak door, sturdy and finished. He debated knocking when he reached it, then simply tried the knob. It yielded, and he pulled the door open and crossed the threshold.
”Too easy, he observed pithily, content to be his own audience and narrator.
The floors were hard wood and polished to a shine, no doubt by the monks on the lower rung of the spiritual ladder who were promised salvation in exchange for menial labor. The walls, painted a slate sort of gray, were devoid of decoration. The acoustics were quite marvelous, conducting his footsteps along them, but noticing that caused him to notice something else- he didn't hear anything.
Had someone beat him to the punch, and killed them all? That would have been unfortunate, in a way that had nothing to do with the deaths of several likely innocent monks.
He wandered, and eventually found his way to a large chamber that explained the utter stillness of the place. It was well lit; windows taller than Renji lined the walls, bathing the entire room in warmth and sunlight. It was a bit obnoxious, really. The walls were unadorned, and two long tables had been shifted against the eastern and western wall respectively.
Most obnoxiously of all were the monks. The place was so damn quiet because they weren't making a sound. They were all on the ground in full kowtow, utterly silent, arranged in four rows of five. They wore simple robes of cerulean trimmed with a darker navy, free of sashes or brocades. Their ages ranged from a single teenager to... well, age was relative to Renji, but, by normal standards, ancient, but most of them seemed at least reasonably fit.
Only one of the monks was out of formation. Clearly the head mugwump, Renji decided. A man of perhaps forty, with salt and pepper hair and a square jaw, he was kneeling, facing his prostrate brethren (and by default, Renji). He was the only one who reacted to his presence, glancing up and studying him for a few long seconds before he rose fluidly to his feet and brought his hands together in an echoing clap.
”First form!” he barked. In unison, the twenty monks rose to their feet, adopting a strange stance. Their right feet were forward, their left back and angled, almost as if they were preparing to fence. Right fist chambered at the hip, left held out, crooked at the elbow, fingers pointing skyward. He made note of that. Obviously, they're capable in combat. Probably some defunct taijutsu style, but, it's worth noting.
”Begin!” As the word resounded through the chamber, the monks began an identical series of flowing movements, katas which rocked them forward and back, brought them in half circles. It was really quite elegant, and Renjiro was so distracted by the near hypnotic movements of the men that he didn't notice the mugwump until he was nearly upon him.
”Come, traveler,” he said, smiling politely to Renjiro and gesturing toward a hallway that ran parallel to the one he had entered through. ”Walk with me while my brothers practice, and tell me your tale.”
Renji nodded in his best approximation of humbleness, sneaking one last glance toward the display that the monks were putting on. He had to admit, it was impressive, at least to his untrained eye, which one of the monks caught. He was perhaps eighteen, nearly the youngest of them, with raven dark hair and sparkling green eyes. Renji smiled at him, and he blushed.
It made perfect sense, of course. Awe a newcomer with some drills, make a few promises regarding strength, empathize with him or her about the cruelty and wanton depravity of the outside world, then begin filling their head with religious rubbish to help them rationalize away their freedom. He fell into step behind the monk leader and began preparing his back-story. Something suitably pathetic, that would make him seem like easy prey.
”I am Hizayato Morishi,” the monk began, pausing, as if to see if Renji knew of him. It took quite a bit of willpower not to snarkily inform the man that he didn't keep track of demagogue big fish in tiny, insignificant ponds. ”Why don't you tell me what has brought you here?” They continued walking. The hallway was similarly lit, with windows that looked out on the rolling, tree-sprawled hills.
Instead he nodded respectfully. ”I am Ideki Takao, it is an honor. I have come hoping to find a place where I might be accepted for who I am. I am... I'm not proud of some of the things I've had to do,” he replied, his voice catching sublimely, his eyes dropping to the floor. ”But I am willing to do whatever it takes to reforge myself, sir.”
He hadn't looked up yet, but he felt a strong, warm hand take his shoulder. A gesture that at once conveyed comfort and dominance. ”Clearly, you were meant to find us,”. Inwardly, Renji rolled his eyes. If there was a text book on dragging the weak into the sway of religion, this Morishi had likely read it cover to cover.
Renjiro was just about to paint a pained-but-hopeful smile on his lips and make eye contact when everything went to hell.
He suddenly found himself pressed up against the wall, his face mashed into it really. The arm of the shoulder that the monk had touched was twisted painfully behind his back, and Hizayato's other arm had looped around his neck. There was strength enough in those limbs to kill him, he realized. Renjiro stood very still while he considered his options.
He could utilize his contact Shintensin seal and dispatch the monk easily enough, then read his thoughts to find a reason for this attack. It would hardly have been difficult, and the immense pain racking him almost made him to it...
But he felt a tremble in those arms. Not born of weakness, but of emotion. No, he'd let this play out. He didn't need to blow his cover just yet. Even if the monk could kill him once, he'd never manage it twice. He remained quiet, waiting for the pugnacious monk to end the silence.
”You don't remember me, do you? Why would you? I am probably only one of hundreds of your casual victims. Do you remember my father? My mother? Do you remember what you did to them, while I watched, more than thirty years ago? I would recognize your eyes anywhere, body thief, even if they aren't really yours.”
There were many, many things that the man could have said that Renji would have anticipated, but that was not one of them. Not because he couldn't believe that he'd come across, by chance, the son of someone he'd killed. The odds on that were actually remarkably high. It was because the man had spotted him, and so quickly. He didn't give the whelp the satisfaction of a response.
The grip on his arm tightened, and pain ripped through something in his shoulder. ”You wear the lives you have taken and lived like a shroud. It is because of you that I was orphaned, and found my way into this life. I built this temple, I sheltered these men, I taught them to live lives of peace, and then, like some cruel joke clad in flesh, you simply wander in? He punctuated the statement with another wrench, one that left Renji groaning.
”What will you do with me, then? He hissed the words. Let the monk labor under the apprehension that he was in control a while longer.
He expected threats, for the man to force him to apologize, more pain. Anything besides what actually happened, basically.
The monk let him go. Turned him loose, just like that. Renji whirled, rubbing his sore shoulder and looking at once surprised and very annoyed.
”You have come here for a reason, body thief, but not the one that you think. Whatever game you planned on playing, go ahead and play it. You will be known as Brother Takao. I will inform the brothers that you are visiting from another monastery in the Wind Country, so that your absences will be explained. Come.” He began walking again without bothering to wait for a response from Renji.
There was only one word fit for describing Renji, at that moment: flabbergasted. He was taken completely aback. His mind was churning, trying to answer questions he didn't even want to ask, because really and truly, for the first time in more than one hundred years, he had absolutely no idea what was going on.
He hurried to catch up, blinking. ”Why?” he asked bluntly, cringing at the sound of the question. ”Why would you allow me to walk amongst your flock? If you know who I am, then you'd be a fool to accept me, never mind help cover for me.”
Their rapid pace had brought them to a closet. Morishi opened it and pulled out a cerulean robe, which he offered to Renji, smirking wryly. It was an expression that Renjiro used often, but not one he often found himself on the receiving end of.
”Firstly, they are not my 'flock'. They are my brothers, and now they will be yours as well. Second, yes, I know what you are, but I meant what I said. This is no coincidence. You are here for a reason. You have been brought here, whether you accept that or not.”
He remembered now. It took a few minutes, but he summoned his last visit to Waterfall. A man and a woman, their child holding both their hands. Renji had been running, they'd been in the way. The deaths had been so insignificant to him that he could barely recall their features, but the timing matched up.
The monk pulled him from his recollections by prodding his chest with an extended index finger. ”Thirdly, know full well that if you harm any man who calls this place home, I will have my reckoning. I have faith that you will find what you came for, but it will not be at the expense of any more innocents.” As Renjiro had not yet taken the robe, he pressed it into his hands.
”Finally, I wish to thank you. I will hate you until the day I die for what you did, but I cannot deny that much good came of it.”
Renjiro simply gaped at the man, blinking rapidly.
Morishi had started back toward the audience chamber. Without looking back, he called: ”Get dressed and meet us at the basin in ten minutes. I will tell the brothers your lie, in the meantime. Oh.” Now he glanced back over his shoulder, smirking yet again.
”Welcome to Still Waters, Brother Takao.”
Breaking Still Waters
Breaking Still Waters
Chapter 2
The meeting at the basin had only just broken up, and the monks (Renji included, though his disbelief was not yet unsuspended on that matter) had been instructed to go about their daily duties. Morishi had provided a demonstration and a lecture that had bored Renjiro intensely- discipline this, faith that-, but his newfound fellows had been silent and attentive all the while.
All but one. He kept catching a particular pair of emerald eyes appraising him whenever the young monk thought he could get away with it. Renji caught him several times, and each time, the raven-haired one turned his attention obediently back toward the high priest, or whatever his newest accomplice's title was. He made a note to learn it quickly for the sake of his cover.
It hardly surprised him that another of the Still Water monks was skilled in basic guile. For every religious fanatic in the flock, there was another who had fallen on rough times and been drawn into the life style. By the looks of him, this one was such a hard-luck case.
He started back toward the monastery proper, angling toward Morishi in hopes of continuing the discussion that the man had abandoned. He'd recognized Renji for what he was- the child of a pair of his victims some three decades ago- but instead of trying to kill him or at least bidding him to leave, he'd invited the body thief to infiltrate the monastery like he'd intended to anyway.
It was curious, and warranted more investigation, but that was apparently for another day.
”Brother Takao.” The voice came from behind him and belonged to the young man who had been stealing glances at him. His body was lean, and a little difficult to gauge fully given the flowing robes that he worse. His nearly obsidian hair was longer than most of his brethren kept it. A sign of vanity? Most likely. Or perhaps just a need to stand out. He was pleasing enough to the eye that it could be either. He was smiling easily, naturally, and clasped his hands at his stomach while he waited for Renj- err, Takao to turn.
”Can I help you, Brother...?” He let his reply hang, inviting the youth to provide his name.
”Doru. Brother Doru.” His smile turned almost shy, and he seemed to be debating asking whatever it was he'd approached to ask.
Too easy, Renji thought. His own eyes filled with welcoming light as Doru took a moment to inspect what Renji presumed were the seals creeping out from beneath his sleeves and collar. ”A pleasure, Brother Doru. I can see that you have something on your mind. By all means.”
Doru snapped out of his inspection and grinned sheepishly. ”Oh. I'll be doing laundry today, and I thought you might like to assist. It would be a good way for you to get your bearings here.” Renji glanced toward Morishi; he was watching them, and turned away when Renji noticed. Had he put this Doru up to this?
When he regarded the young monk again, he decided that wasn't the case. Now that he was on his guard, there was no way any of these monks would be deceiving him.
He formed a smirk on his full lips. ”Come now, Brother Doru. There's no need to hide your heart. I appreciate the opportunity, and will surely take you up on it, but you obviously want something from me.”
Doru's eyes lit up, and he laughed self-consciously. ”You are obviously wise, Brother Takao. It is no wonder that you are on a pilgrimage.” His eyes lowered slightly, then lifted once more. He was oddly more resolved when he did, and the expression added years to his features. ”I have lived most of my life at this monastery, and encountered few visitors. I was just a boy when my family was killed by a rogue shinobi, and Brother Hiyazato found me and took me in. I am eager to learn of the world beyond this valley and this waterfall.”
It only took a few respectable seconds for Renjiro to analyze the statement. He needed no Mind's Eye technique to know that Doru was speaking the truth. Another interesting coincidence, or not-coincidence. Brother Hiyazato, as he was called, was crafty enough to have influenced the boy into approaching Renji, knowing that his story would resonate in some way. Did he really hope to engage a centuries old mad man's sympathy?
”It is my belief that there is no shame in seeking knowledge, Brother Doru, and no reason to conceal it. Lead the way to this laundry, and I will answer whatever question you ask me.”
Doru's smile was dazzling. If it had been one hundred and fifty years prior, Renjiro would have been unable to resist a chance to corrupt such innocence, but his tastes had matured with the passing time.
If the chance arose, he would take it, but he was far more interested in exploring such an interesting mind. Indoctrinated in a hedge religion from an early age, no family, very little knowledge of anything beyond the bounds of his tiny world.
That was Morishi's game. Distract him with a puzzle to solve. The monk did seem to have an unnatural degree of insight into his habits. Perhaps he had studied the legend that Renji had been for so long, or perhaps he was more like Renji than he would ever admit.
Now that he'd uncovered the intention, he was free to indulge in a bit of quality time with the young monk. This was going to be much more fun than he'd ever thought. Morishi would come to regret exposing the fledgling to the body thief when he turned the man's indoctrination against him. All it took was a seed of doubt to be planted.
”I am honored, brother. Yes, I will bring you there. Please follow me.” He laughed brightly and began off at a jog.
Laughing (and to his surprise, it was unaffected) himself, Renji broke into a jog as well to follow.
The meeting at the basin had only just broken up, and the monks (Renji included, though his disbelief was not yet unsuspended on that matter) had been instructed to go about their daily duties. Morishi had provided a demonstration and a lecture that had bored Renjiro intensely- discipline this, faith that-, but his newfound fellows had been silent and attentive all the while.
All but one. He kept catching a particular pair of emerald eyes appraising him whenever the young monk thought he could get away with it. Renji caught him several times, and each time, the raven-haired one turned his attention obediently back toward the high priest, or whatever his newest accomplice's title was. He made a note to learn it quickly for the sake of his cover.
It hardly surprised him that another of the Still Water monks was skilled in basic guile. For every religious fanatic in the flock, there was another who had fallen on rough times and been drawn into the life style. By the looks of him, this one was such a hard-luck case.
He started back toward the monastery proper, angling toward Morishi in hopes of continuing the discussion that the man had abandoned. He'd recognized Renji for what he was- the child of a pair of his victims some three decades ago- but instead of trying to kill him or at least bidding him to leave, he'd invited the body thief to infiltrate the monastery like he'd intended to anyway.
It was curious, and warranted more investigation, but that was apparently for another day.
”Brother Takao.” The voice came from behind him and belonged to the young man who had been stealing glances at him. His body was lean, and a little difficult to gauge fully given the flowing robes that he worse. His nearly obsidian hair was longer than most of his brethren kept it. A sign of vanity? Most likely. Or perhaps just a need to stand out. He was pleasing enough to the eye that it could be either. He was smiling easily, naturally, and clasped his hands at his stomach while he waited for Renj- err, Takao to turn.
”Can I help you, Brother...?” He let his reply hang, inviting the youth to provide his name.
”Doru. Brother Doru.” His smile turned almost shy, and he seemed to be debating asking whatever it was he'd approached to ask.
Too easy, Renji thought. His own eyes filled with welcoming light as Doru took a moment to inspect what Renji presumed were the seals creeping out from beneath his sleeves and collar. ”A pleasure, Brother Doru. I can see that you have something on your mind. By all means.”
Doru snapped out of his inspection and grinned sheepishly. ”Oh. I'll be doing laundry today, and I thought you might like to assist. It would be a good way for you to get your bearings here.” Renji glanced toward Morishi; he was watching them, and turned away when Renji noticed. Had he put this Doru up to this?
When he regarded the young monk again, he decided that wasn't the case. Now that he was on his guard, there was no way any of these monks would be deceiving him.
He formed a smirk on his full lips. ”Come now, Brother Doru. There's no need to hide your heart. I appreciate the opportunity, and will surely take you up on it, but you obviously want something from me.”
Doru's eyes lit up, and he laughed self-consciously. ”You are obviously wise, Brother Takao. It is no wonder that you are on a pilgrimage.” His eyes lowered slightly, then lifted once more. He was oddly more resolved when he did, and the expression added years to his features. ”I have lived most of my life at this monastery, and encountered few visitors. I was just a boy when my family was killed by a rogue shinobi, and Brother Hiyazato found me and took me in. I am eager to learn of the world beyond this valley and this waterfall.”
It only took a few respectable seconds for Renjiro to analyze the statement. He needed no Mind's Eye technique to know that Doru was speaking the truth. Another interesting coincidence, or not-coincidence. Brother Hiyazato, as he was called, was crafty enough to have influenced the boy into approaching Renji, knowing that his story would resonate in some way. Did he really hope to engage a centuries old mad man's sympathy?
”It is my belief that there is no shame in seeking knowledge, Brother Doru, and no reason to conceal it. Lead the way to this laundry, and I will answer whatever question you ask me.”
Doru's smile was dazzling. If it had been one hundred and fifty years prior, Renjiro would have been unable to resist a chance to corrupt such innocence, but his tastes had matured with the passing time.
If the chance arose, he would take it, but he was far more interested in exploring such an interesting mind. Indoctrinated in a hedge religion from an early age, no family, very little knowledge of anything beyond the bounds of his tiny world.
That was Morishi's game. Distract him with a puzzle to solve. The monk did seem to have an unnatural degree of insight into his habits. Perhaps he had studied the legend that Renji had been for so long, or perhaps he was more like Renji than he would ever admit.
Now that he'd uncovered the intention, he was free to indulge in a bit of quality time with the young monk. This was going to be much more fun than he'd ever thought. Morishi would come to regret exposing the fledgling to the body thief when he turned the man's indoctrination against him. All it took was a seed of doubt to be planted.
”I am honored, brother. Yes, I will bring you there. Please follow me.” He laughed brightly and began off at a jog.
Laughing (and to his surprise, it was unaffected) himself, Renji broke into a jog as well to follow.
Breaking Still Waters
Chapter 3
Laundry turned out to be much more daunting than Renji had imagined. He'd been expecting a pile of dirty robes to take to the basin, but instead, Doru led him into the monastery and then down to the cellar, which was expansive.
Nearly the size of the entire building, at least in area, it was lit with candles that did a fairly poor job of dispelling the darkness. It was a dim, wavering sort of light that threatened to collapse under the seeming weight of the darkness at any moment. The stairwell entered into a large chamber that comprised most of the cellar; a somewhat distant wall with a heavy looking set of double doors stood opposite.
Doru was a cheerful beacon in the gloom. Renji could literally see candle light reflecting off the young monk's impossibly white teeth as he smiled beatifically. A large linen sack (massive, half the monks could have piled into it) was stretched over a metal frame on wheels, serving as a large hamper. A veritable mountain of clothing, linens, and assorted fabric items caused the sack to strain against the cart.
”That was... all the brothers outside, correct?” he intoned, blinking at the sheer volume of clothing.
”Oh yes. Haha. I suppose we do let it pile up for a while, but, it makes for a better work out.” He grinned to Renji, and then moved to take hold of the bar that they would ostensibly use to maneuver the laundry over toward two large wooden vats against the wall that faced the waterfall.
Renji joined him. Taking up his grasp on the fairly short bar required bumping shoulders with the monk, and he wasn't surprised at the hard muscles beneath the deceptive robe. Doru seemed to pay the contact no mind (disappointing), and together they heaved and grunted, steering the titanic accumulation of clothing and sundries.
”Is this now how laundry was done at your monastery, Brother Takao?” Strain, slight, was evident in Doru's voice, but it was nothing compared to the intensity of the curiosity. While the young monk was fighting fit, he wasn't quite on Renji's lax level. Together, they easily managed to get it rolling, and then directed it at their target.
”We usually did it once a week. There is plenty to keep busy with in the Wind Country. The desert is vast and harsh, and so needless exertion is unnecessary.” He hadn't been to the Wind Country in... ages, it seemed. Sunagakure had been steadily increasing their defenses for years, and even he had difficulty broaching those borders.
Fortunately, he hated the weather there anyway.
Doru, for his part, was wide-eyed. Obviously, much more interested in Renji's words than the task at hand. Together, they began transferring the clothing from the cart to the vats, one armload at a time. Renji capitalized on his captive, willing audience.
It was time to sew some seeds.
”Sunagakure itself is very religious. Of the five great villages, it is the most spiritual, and so there are many monasteries of different brotherhoods.” He was bullshitting completely; for all he knew, some state religion had swept over the entire country and the more fringe faiths had been murdered, enslaved, or turned into puppets. It was a prettier picture to paint for Doru, though, and the boy was rapt, his verdant eyes fixed on Renji as they wandered back and forth from the cart to the vats.
”What does Still Water mean to you, Doru?” The segue was rhetorically perfect, and the use of his name was a test to see how rigid the monks really were about their designations... or how little Doru cared for that rigidity.
Besides. It was about time he learned a bit about the religion he'd be subverting.
Doru was caught of guard, the spell broken, just as Renji had hoped. The young man was shy, unaccustomed to having anyone take an interest in him. No doubt starved for attention, so that every spare word of praise seemed a gift.
”W-well,” he started, hugging his arms around the dirty robes in them. ”It's not really about water. It's more about spirit. The pervasiveness of it. The way that it binds all of us, every living thing together. That is God. The Creator. Everything. Like the surface of a pond, if we could look at our world from the right perspective, it would seem like still water in spite of the various movements and elements of life.” It had the air of recitation, and he looked to Renji, as if for approval.
That was the problem with indoctrination. They could say the words, but they hardly knew what they meant.
”What's next?” Renji asked, knowing how the shift would play on poor Doru's insecurities.
”W-w-what do you mean? Brother Hiyazaki says that we all come to understanding in time...” The young monk almost sounded truly upset. Clearly, his sheltered upbringing had left him hard-pressed to cope when his copied ideas were challenged.
Renji laughed easily, grinning as he swayed to nudge the younger (much younger) man with a hip. ”I meant for the laundry, Doru. Relax. I am the student today.” To accent his words, he gestured to the now empty cart.
”Ooooooh.” Doru grinned sheepishly, relief flooding him. ”Now we add the water, then the soap, and then we agitate.” Doru practically danced lightly to some boxes of powdered soap. ”Turn the spigots, the ones over the tubs. It will take a while for them to fill.”
Renji did as instructed. Each tub was about half full of clothes. It was actually a fairly ingenious system. Water was piped in from the basin, and then soap was added. He spotted several thick poles, likely used to move the clothing until stains and debris were removed. His eyes scanned, spotting drains; they must just let the water out afterwards, then fill it again to rinse.
”I do have a theological question for you though. One that I think you're ready to answer.” He spoke gently as they emptied soap into each tank.
”Oh?” Doru looked over at him, clearly unused to anyone deeming him ready.
”What about nothing?
He'd clearly stumped the young monk, who looked at him in thorough perplexion.
”The two are inextricably linked, everything and nothing. They can't exist without each other, they are born of one another.” He kept his tone even and gentle and watched Doru carefully. ”If nothing begets everything, and everything is the sum of God, then what does that make nothing?” It was a paradox that he'd been toying with since his last experience with a dangerous, potent hallucinogen, during which he had traveled to a strange realm composed of chakra beings that gave him insight into the nature of reality.
Or he'd just tripped balls, but, that was hardly the point.
Doru considered this, and his brow creased. Slowly, he set aside the soap. ”I... think that I should go,” he stated, anxiety reverberating through his tightened voice. He began to back away; Renji's hypothesis was correct. Doru wasn't capable of asserting his own beliefs because he had none, but when challenged on the principles his order, he shut down.
He watched the monk hustle off, and smiled to himself as he watched the water creeping up the edges of the sealed wooden tubs.
The seed had certainly been planted.
Laundry turned out to be much more daunting than Renji had imagined. He'd been expecting a pile of dirty robes to take to the basin, but instead, Doru led him into the monastery and then down to the cellar, which was expansive.
Nearly the size of the entire building, at least in area, it was lit with candles that did a fairly poor job of dispelling the darkness. It was a dim, wavering sort of light that threatened to collapse under the seeming weight of the darkness at any moment. The stairwell entered into a large chamber that comprised most of the cellar; a somewhat distant wall with a heavy looking set of double doors stood opposite.
Doru was a cheerful beacon in the gloom. Renji could literally see candle light reflecting off the young monk's impossibly white teeth as he smiled beatifically. A large linen sack (massive, half the monks could have piled into it) was stretched over a metal frame on wheels, serving as a large hamper. A veritable mountain of clothing, linens, and assorted fabric items caused the sack to strain against the cart.
”That was... all the brothers outside, correct?” he intoned, blinking at the sheer volume of clothing.
”Oh yes. Haha. I suppose we do let it pile up for a while, but, it makes for a better work out.” He grinned to Renji, and then moved to take hold of the bar that they would ostensibly use to maneuver the laundry over toward two large wooden vats against the wall that faced the waterfall.
Renji joined him. Taking up his grasp on the fairly short bar required bumping shoulders with the monk, and he wasn't surprised at the hard muscles beneath the deceptive robe. Doru seemed to pay the contact no mind (disappointing), and together they heaved and grunted, steering the titanic accumulation of clothing and sundries.
”Is this now how laundry was done at your monastery, Brother Takao?” Strain, slight, was evident in Doru's voice, but it was nothing compared to the intensity of the curiosity. While the young monk was fighting fit, he wasn't quite on Renji's lax level. Together, they easily managed to get it rolling, and then directed it at their target.
”We usually did it once a week. There is plenty to keep busy with in the Wind Country. The desert is vast and harsh, and so needless exertion is unnecessary.” He hadn't been to the Wind Country in... ages, it seemed. Sunagakure had been steadily increasing their defenses for years, and even he had difficulty broaching those borders.
Fortunately, he hated the weather there anyway.
Doru, for his part, was wide-eyed. Obviously, much more interested in Renji's words than the task at hand. Together, they began transferring the clothing from the cart to the vats, one armload at a time. Renji capitalized on his captive, willing audience.
It was time to sew some seeds.
”Sunagakure itself is very religious. Of the five great villages, it is the most spiritual, and so there are many monasteries of different brotherhoods.” He was bullshitting completely; for all he knew, some state religion had swept over the entire country and the more fringe faiths had been murdered, enslaved, or turned into puppets. It was a prettier picture to paint for Doru, though, and the boy was rapt, his verdant eyes fixed on Renji as they wandered back and forth from the cart to the vats.
”What does Still Water mean to you, Doru?” The segue was rhetorically perfect, and the use of his name was a test to see how rigid the monks really were about their designations... or how little Doru cared for that rigidity.
Besides. It was about time he learned a bit about the religion he'd be subverting.
Doru was caught of guard, the spell broken, just as Renji had hoped. The young man was shy, unaccustomed to having anyone take an interest in him. No doubt starved for attention, so that every spare word of praise seemed a gift.
”W-well,” he started, hugging his arms around the dirty robes in them. ”It's not really about water. It's more about spirit. The pervasiveness of it. The way that it binds all of us, every living thing together. That is God. The Creator. Everything. Like the surface of a pond, if we could look at our world from the right perspective, it would seem like still water in spite of the various movements and elements of life.” It had the air of recitation, and he looked to Renji, as if for approval.
That was the problem with indoctrination. They could say the words, but they hardly knew what they meant.
”What's next?” Renji asked, knowing how the shift would play on poor Doru's insecurities.
”W-w-what do you mean? Brother Hiyazaki says that we all come to understanding in time...” The young monk almost sounded truly upset. Clearly, his sheltered upbringing had left him hard-pressed to cope when his copied ideas were challenged.
Renji laughed easily, grinning as he swayed to nudge the younger (much younger) man with a hip. ”I meant for the laundry, Doru. Relax. I am the student today.” To accent his words, he gestured to the now empty cart.
”Ooooooh.” Doru grinned sheepishly, relief flooding him. ”Now we add the water, then the soap, and then we agitate.” Doru practically danced lightly to some boxes of powdered soap. ”Turn the spigots, the ones over the tubs. It will take a while for them to fill.”
Renji did as instructed. Each tub was about half full of clothes. It was actually a fairly ingenious system. Water was piped in from the basin, and then soap was added. He spotted several thick poles, likely used to move the clothing until stains and debris were removed. His eyes scanned, spotting drains; they must just let the water out afterwards, then fill it again to rinse.
”I do have a theological question for you though. One that I think you're ready to answer.” He spoke gently as they emptied soap into each tank.
”Oh?” Doru looked over at him, clearly unused to anyone deeming him ready.
”What about nothing?
He'd clearly stumped the young monk, who looked at him in thorough perplexion.
”The two are inextricably linked, everything and nothing. They can't exist without each other, they are born of one another.” He kept his tone even and gentle and watched Doru carefully. ”If nothing begets everything, and everything is the sum of God, then what does that make nothing?” It was a paradox that he'd been toying with since his last experience with a dangerous, potent hallucinogen, during which he had traveled to a strange realm composed of chakra beings that gave him insight into the nature of reality.
Or he'd just tripped balls, but, that was hardly the point.
Doru considered this, and his brow creased. Slowly, he set aside the soap. ”I... think that I should go,” he stated, anxiety reverberating through his tightened voice. He began to back away; Renji's hypothesis was correct. Doru wasn't capable of asserting his own beliefs because he had none, but when challenged on the principles his order, he shut down.
He watched the monk hustle off, and smiled to himself as he watched the water creeping up the edges of the sealed wooden tubs.
The seed had certainly been planted.