An Empty Vessel
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Events occurring at age seven, one year prior to Hiro's formal induction into Academy One.
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Naohiro's eyes snapped open from the sudden knock at his door. The dim, pre-dawn glow from beyond the lone window in his room spoke of the time as his mind struggled to awaken. Naoshige had kept him up unusually late the previous night, pushing his training until exhaustion hit, and with precious few hours of sleep the world was still washed out and bleary to the young Aisu. He dragged himself up and extracted himself from the twist of bedsheets, trying to stifle that inner-voice that groaned and pleaded for an extra hour of respite. He stretched, and the knock at his door repeated itself.
"Come on. Up." Naoshige's muffled voice called in from the hallway. Hiro experienced a hint of satisfaction at its gruffness, meaning his father had had just as few hours of rest as himself. Somehow, that made it a little better. A little. Objecting only so far as allowing a yawn long enough to strain his jaw, the boy slipped on a robe and padded to the door of his room, slid it open, and left in search of a rejuvenating bath to begin the day.
Getting roused so early only ever meant one thing: A tedious day spent accompanying his parents to boring clan meetings, of getting dressed up and making appearances to people who wouldn't so much as spare him a glance. Part of him understood - being born into the Aisu meant bearing with a level of obligation and duty, and holding his discipline before the clan now would work in his favour in later years, but all the same... It was hardly going to be a day to get excited about.
He washed and dressed in good time, helping himself to leftovers of the meal that he'd been too tired to eat the previous evening, and was waiting patiently back in his room when Naoshige returned to check on him. The man nodded in approval when he saw his son, reassured that the days of dragging him by the feet to get ready in the mornings were long past. Wearing a perfectly folded deep blue hakama over a pristine white kimono, Hiro was the picture of reservedness and formality - just as he should be. His hair, sleek and clean, was carefully oiled and pinned up into a traditional rear top-knot. The boy was old enough to know what was expected of him; and so he knelt, back straight, eyes down and patient, until he was summoned.
Hours passed.
Still Hiro knelt, alone in his room. What began as a stiffness in his legs broke into pain, which in turn faded to numbness as he waited, and waited, and
waited. He longed to stand up and stretch, to look outside or slip away... But on days like this, he knew better. To his family, formality was law, and not one that they would have their only child evade. It wouldn't be true to say that he was unaccustomed to the delay, however. Often children simply weren't welcome at clan events, yet there he'd be waiting
just in case. Should a distant relative or influential clan member come asking after him, there he'd be.
He sighed.
The sun was high into the sky when noises from downstairs alerted him of some activity. Two sets - no, three sets - of footsteps. His parents had brought a guest after all. A faint, muffled voice that sounded like his father's wove it's way through the house, and he turned his head to the side, straining to hear more. Another voice, a woman's, but older and stronger than his mother's. He waited in anticipation, balancing on numb knees in the same position still, expecting the trio to move upstairs and find him. Gradually, however, the noise faded until once again he felt quite alone. Disappointment washed over him and he resigned himself to the wasted morning, slumping in his posture and wondering what else he could've achieved in the time spent sitting on his floor. Obviously, nothing was--
The screen-door to his room slid open abruptly and a stern pair of eyes saw him hurriedly twitch to correct the slump. He felt a flush begin to rise in his face - curse the paleness of the Aisu! - but remained as carefully still as he could. With his eyes still downcast he couldn't see who was standing on the threshold, but a sense of...
unfamiliarity ran through him.
"Look at me." The woman spoke with the same voice he'd overheard before and an unexpected chill ran down his spine. He realised he'd been wrong; it wasn't just strength in her voice, but a
fierceness, like a lioness taunting her prey. He drew his eyes upward to meet hers.
Belying her stature, his first impression of the woman was one of a commanding elder. She was short and thin, with hair of grey-streaked black held back behind a simple cloth headband. Her face was lined, almost grandmotherly, but as stern as if it were shaped from iron. For all her years, she still exuded a sense of vigour; he got the immediate impression that her mere presence somehow demanded compliance. When she said
'jump', no one would dare delay long enough to ask
'how high?'. He thought that most people would crumple and wilt under her gaze like a flower scorched under a desert sun, but..
something, whether his own defiance or an inspiration drawn from her, urged him to keep his back straight and face impassive. He
wouldn't show fear. Her eyes seemed to pierce right through him as he waited, until...
...Until nothing. Her gaze didn't linger on him, but scanned his room as briefly as if she were sizing up the contents of a storage cupboard. A pair of small bells hanging from an ornament in the woman's hair tinkled as she turned away without so much as a change in expression, let alone another spoken word. A moment later and she was gone, leaving only a haunting echo of the faint ringing in his ears. Naoshige's figure appeared briefly in the doorway as he hurried after her and away down the corridor. Hiro was shocked; in that moment, under the woman's heavy gaze, he felt like he could've borne any judgement, any attack on his character or physical test. But to be completely disregarded, ignored without so much as a shrug? He felt it sting like a personal insult, as if he wasn't even worth the mysterious woman's time.
For the first time that day, he broke character and leapt to his feet. The first few steps made him stagger after so long sitting still, but a second later his feet were hammering down the corridor in pursuit of his father and the newcomer. He
had to know who she was, why she was there-- and more importantly, what was so appalling about him that she wouldn't even spend the time or effort to make her thoughts known.
He flew along the corridor and took the stairs in two big steps, skidded through the ground floor hallway and hastily pulled open a screen door heading outside. It wasn't until he stepped onto the wooden walkway around the sizeable house that he caught sight of the pair ahead, walking away from him and towards the gate to the family property.
He slowed to a brisk walk and hopped down to the path to follow. His father turned his head to the side to look back at him, and Hiro could see that the pair were in heated conversation - although their words were lost on the wind as they left the property. Nor could he read his father's expression, but there certainly hadn't been any indication for him to stay put, and so he let his intrigue pull him along in pursuit. He reached the gate in short order and turned to follow, finding his father and the mysterious woman about twenty metres ahead of him and walking swiftly towards the gates into Kirigakure's Noble District. Although committed now to investigating, he wasn't without his caution, and carefully kept his distance; they could easily see him if they turned to check, but apparently the topic of their discussion was important enough to keep their immediate attention.
He followed, and followed. Gradually the quiet pathways of the Aisu compound gave way to picturesque city streets. He had spent his life in the district, but even he soon lost his way as he plodded after the pair ahead, the streets becoming a web of crossing alleys and boulevards that twisted and turned enough that he stopped paying attention to the buildings on either side as he hurried past. With no measure of time he began to wonder just how long he'd been walking behind them; a steady ache in his feet spoke of at least an hour or more on the hard slabs of the road. He glanced to the sky to try and gauge the sun's height, but even then he realised he hadn't known the time of day before he'd left. He shifted his gaze back to the pair - and panic gripped him as the corner they were traversing threatened to block them from sight. He broke into a jog, and then a run, to try and catch up.
Just a little closer. I can't lose them now!. Suddenly, they too broke into a run, and the three clan members tore down the streets, two ahead and one desperately trying to catch up.
"Wait! Why are you running?"
He called out as a strange fear began setting in. The thought of losing them now seemed unbearable, yet no matter how fast he ran they always seemed fractionally faster, and every moment threatened to take them from sight. Step after hurried step he chased, pushing his sprint as fast as he could go. Shops and alleys passed now in a blur; market stalls, an inn, a butcher's shop, a few shadowed side paths, a tailor. Market, butcher, alleys, tailor, market, butcher, market, alleys.
Ahead, the figures disappeared around the eternal curve of the road. Frustration bloomed, and fear became anger as he skidded to a halt and finally stopped to look around him. Nothing made sense; No roads in the district were like this, none so long or...
deserted. He realised the last fact with a shock -
When did I last see someone other than those two? In the Aisu compound? No, even the gates were empty... Did we pass the gates? Anger broke into simple bewilderment for the young boy, turning to look back the way he'd come and seeing for the first time how the street was the same bland, repetitive pattern of buildings and side-roads, beyond which there seemed to be inexplicably identical streets. Finally, he fell to his knees, panting in exertion from the run and feeling very much alone, helpless.
Don't give up. He reminded himself of Kirigakure's creed;
A ninja recognizes no limitations. He must embrace fear, turning it to his side. Turn it into a boon to serve you, not a flaw that hinders you. Still sucking in air, he stood up with renewed conviction.
"Where are you?!" He shouted, his voice demanding and loud.
"Stop this!"
His words hung in the air of the empty street, greeted only by silence. He breathed in and tried again, louder.
"I said--"
"Why?"
The reply was a simple question, spoken quietly and calmly. He spun around to face the speaker - and there stood the woman, as casual as if she'd been there all along and he'd simply failed to see her. A faint smile creased her lips, like she was finding the entire situation amusing. That threatened to bring back his anger, and he spluttered in response.
"Wh-... What do you mean, why? What are you doing to me?" His mind quickly jumped to the conclusion that this was probably a test orchestrated by his father, one of many he'd experienced so far in his life.
She stared at him impassively, pausing long enough before speaking to add gravity to her words.
"Your father seemed to think you were ready. Was he wrong, boy? Do you not want to learn?"
"Learn what?" He flared, stepping towards her as he felt the passion in his words. He'd been learning everything he could for years already; he always jumped readily into his studies, never arguing or protesting, even when the topics grew stale. But this was unlike any test he'd ever been subjected to.
"This isn't a lesson! This isn't teaching me anything! If you want to teach--"
"Wrong, boy." She interrupted without even raising her voice; the sternness in her tone was sufficient to cut through his rant and rebuff him.
"I am teaching you. Today you learn humility. Something that all clan-children need in heavy doses, especially if they seek to learn."
That gave him pause.
Humility? What good is that? As an Aisu, pride had been drilled into him from his earliest days. It had become his foundation, his reason to push himself and excel. Pride was the reason he rose early in the mornings and bowed low to his elders, the reason he dressed in finery and studied for endless hours. Although unable to understand, he began to feel a grudging respect for the woman's directness that helped calm him down. His voice was measured and careful when he next spoke.
"I don't need humility. I'm already set to learn. Just because I am proud of who I am, it doesn't mean I can't handle your lessons."
"No? Pride is the bane of all of us, boy. It is pride that drives men to madness trying to prove themselves, pride that divides us and tests us. Pride is the blueprint of war, the pedestal we all scramble to climb. Humility grounds us."
She moved suddenly in a blur. One moment Hiro was standing and watching the woman, and the next he was lying on the paved floor with his chest aflame from a sudden punch.
"Pride tells us we know how to learn, that we are full of knowledge enough to face any task. Humility shows us the truth. If you are to learn, Ice-child, this is your first lesson." She approached and stared down at him sprawled on the ground, and her smile grew just a fraction.
"Be humbled. Know that you know nothing of the world. Find me, and come to me as an empty vessel. Because how can I fill you with knowledge if you already know so much?"
Abruptly she turned, and the bells in her hair tinkled with the movement. Suddenly, she was gone, and the street around him erupted in movement and noise. Hiro leapt up from his sprawl on the hard ground as people flooded into view all around him, some shooting him odd looks and frowns. The pattern of buildings and alleys was broken; he was free from the woman's illusion at last. He stood for several minutes contemplating her words, before eventually turning and walking slowly down the road, staring at the floor in thought.
Lost within the nearby crowd, Naoshige smiled and turned to walk away. The brief encounter reminded him of his own time spent training under
Hisako; he couldn't quite say that fondness accompanied the memories, but the old woman would certainly drive his son forward as much as he himself had been, many years prior.