[Sealing] The Dichotomy of Brahman

[ShinobiTruth]

Winter's bite had set in. Though the residents of Iwagakure no Sato were largely shielded from the cold's sharpest fangs, no one walked the streets of the shinobi village unscathed by its rabid maw. Noses, ears, and cheeks were flushed red, oils rubbed from the skin as the cold in the streets contrasted the heat that emanated from the foundries, marketplaces, compounds, and homes that nestled within the earthen dome. Sure, many would bundle up in the hopes that the great white beast's attacks might be foiled for a spell, but it mattered little in the end. All would be marked with the irony of insisting on life amidst a pack of ravenous wolves.

Men and women wizened to the inevitability of the season's wrath walked undeterred through snow, their procession having just begun its journey. Despite the momentous nature of the occasion, military shrewdness kept the affair quiet and, more importantly, hidden from the public eye. A group of four jounin escorted a young boy, barely a hair over fourteen years of age, blindfolded and his head completely covered in a black hood. An odd sight if one knew that the young boy in question would become one of the village's most powerful weapons, but Iwagakure valued wisdom over needless concerns on the image of the scene at hand. That fact aside, the boy had been briefed on the exact details of the procession and all that would occur at its destination. The boy's gait was not forced; rather, he was merely ushered along by his guards. Perhaps, it would be unfair to even call him a boy at all. When one had the training this one did, they were no mere child.

Soldier. Warrior. Shinobi. There were many names for what the child truly was, but they all held the same meaning: someone who would live, fight, and die for a cause larger than himself... namely, his village. And this assumed nature was a very large reason as to why he was where he was at this exact moment.

The public relations campaign would come later, long after the sealing and the host's stability and malleability had been fully ascertained. The people would know what they needed to know about the host when they needed to know it. But given the recent traffic between Kirigakure and Iwagakure (despite the relative trust the two villages shared), as well as the great war which had just recently ended, the Tsuchikage and his administration were taking no chances. Now more than ever, the secrets of the village had to be guarded tightly, and that included both the location and fuuinjutsu formulas used to seal the phantom into its host. Once it was proven that Ohta was a stable host and could be trusted (and controlled), he'd be granted the location of the compound, as it could be essential in maximizing the effectiveness of his training the genma's powers. Though it was likely incredibly disorienting and horribly uncomfortable, this had all been explained to the host-apparent several weeks in advance. If nothing else, the village would give him the courtesy of preparedness for the experience to come. Still, it wasn't all bad. The sensory deprivation gave him time to meditate on the (literal) soul-rending experience he was about to partake in. Though they did their best to not belabor needless details, the last thing they needed was their host panicking during the sealing. The best outcome in that situation would be that it would make the sealing much more taxing and dangerous for the fuuinjutsu specialists responsible for it. At worst...

Well, if that came to pass, he wouldn't be around for it, anyways.

Though the guards were instructed to not reveal any secretive information, they were still able to converse. So, assuming that Ohta's countenance wasn't too soured by his current state, there was time for him to talk before they reached the rendezvous with the fuuinjutsu team. The guards could be heard talking amongst themselves. Ohta could tell, based on where their voices were coming from, that he was in the middle of a defensive diamond formation, excellent for both protecting... and containing. They were presently still top-side, as the snow still crunched beneath their feet. The detail to the front, left, and right of him carried on as if it were fairly normal. This clearly was not their first rodeo, no pun intended. They would intermittently check on him to make sure he was still okay, but otherwise, they conversed amongst themselves.

"Man, today's salary is easy money for me. After the handoff, I got the rest of the day to myself." The one in front. Strong, masculine, relaxed. Overconfident? Maybe. Otherwise affable, though seemingly brutish by the nonchalant timbre of his voice. "Whaddya say, everyone? Who's feeling some dumplings and sake for lunch?"

"Speak for yourself, mate. I got security detail in the industrial wing after this." The one to the left. Also masculine, but weary, resigned to his fate. Clearly annoyed. Overworked. But who wasn't, especially following a war? "Make sure you enjoy some for me. I'll have to make do with my tempura bento."

"Oof. Tough break there. Tempura sounds good, though. Whatcha got?"

"Tempura chicken, tempura lotus root, soy sauce, and wasabi. Pretty standard." Common workplace banter. Extremely familiar. Had they once been teammates? Perhaps.

"Your old lady does make some excellent food, I'll give you that. You should ask her if she could whip me up one sometime."

A sigh of irritation from the second voice. "My wife isn't an old lady, thank you very much. But sure, I'll ask her."

"Ugh... I hate both of you so much right now." A third voice, the one to the right. Feminine but firm. Irritated, impatient, her agitation directed to the two voices prior. Also uses a familiar tone. "I didn't get to eat breakfast today, and now you've got me remembering how hungry I am."

The voice from the front chuckles. A rustling can be heard to the left, and a soft impact follows it to the right. Something wrapped in wax paper. "Here. It's not much, but it should hold you over until our mission's complete."

A moment of the paper rustling and then a gasp of joy. "Taiyaki! You're the best. I'll get you something for this, I promise."

Ohta would feel a firm but steady hand on his right shoulder. "Bear with this just a while longer, Ohta. We're getting close to the rendezvous."

Ohta knew there was a fourth person behind him. Despite that, he hadn't uttered a word. Rather, he seemed to communicate in hand gestures as the light intermittent rustling of clothes could be heard from the back of the formation. It was clear that he was a source of tension from the other three. It also seemed that he was the one responsible for leading the security detail for him as once he gave nonverbal orders, Ohta would be guided in a different direction. Even if he hadn't, the sheer intensity made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. Who was this person that made his teammates so uneasy?

If Ohta was curious, he could try to find out. If he wasn't, the rendezvous would occur shortly. The choice was his.

[Gilak]

Ohta's life was about to change, to be known as a Jinch is to become a weapon. Not bothering him one bit Ohta was more excited about the whole ordeal rather than scared or anxious like most others would be. This excitement was noted by how he was actually skipping instead of walking. Some might see this to be rather odd but to others this could easily come off as childish. Hopefully they would not disqualify him for being this way. especially when he is leading into a place that could very well kill him.

The boy was dressed in a thick pink wool sweatshirt that made him look much plumper than he actually was. He made sure to put his hip pouch on just in case. The only thing that really made his normal daily attire stand out was this Black Bag that they had over his head. This bag didn't allow Ohta to see through it which was rather unfortunate but he understood why it was needed.

As the Shinobi around him kept talking he chose not to speak with them, rather Humming to himself as he skipped along in the middle of the group. His hearing started to heighten as they made their way thru the city without any troubles. His mind focused one on thing and one thing only..... How fun it will be to be recognized..

[ShinobiTruth]

Though Ohta couldn't tell for certain, given his unusually cheery disposition during this process seemed to endear him to his guards (mostly; the last guys still hadn't said a peep). The man in front gave a chuckle of approval. "I like you, kid. You got spunk," he observed, the volume of his voice implying that he turned his head over his shoulder to speak to Ohta directly. "If you don't turn into a vegetable or get yourself killed by the time you're old enough to drink, your first night of booze is on me!"

The man to the left balked at his comrade's offer. "I-Is that really what we should be saying here?! You know that heightened emotions make the sealing more dangerous. Don't rile him up with talk like that!"

"I would normally agree, but Ohta's not stupid," the woman interjected. "I was on the security detail that was assigned to his home when we first selected him as a prospective host. We haven't hidden anything from him. Ohta knows exactly what's going to happen... and he has still chosen to go through with the sealing. I think Chozen is merely showing respect for his courage and resolve."

Chozen. A name, likely for the man in front. Slowly, but surely, the picture fills in, even without sight.

The man to the left seemed to be caught by those words, his tongue momentarily silenced. Then, with a sigh, his voice seemed to speak directly to Ohta. "Ohta... you're truly certain about this? Words can only communicate so much of what you're about to experience, and this is a one-way ticket. I don't think you lack resolve either, but there's no shame in saying you need more time to consider."

The very minute sounds of a hand signal, made audible by the scrunching of a leather glove, signaled the change of direction yet again. The silent captain's demeanor seemed to clearly command the attention of the three guards, though whether that was for better or worse had yet to be seen. "So this is what war does to you..." the woman to his right whispered to herself. "We were told that he was no-nonsense, but this intensity... It's colder than the blizzard above us."

Ohta's impression of their silent companion may possibly differ from the guards', but the intensity that shrouded the quiet behind him was most certainly imposing. Still, it seemed that Ohta had been given an offer to motivate him to survive this transition into a host on the long term. How would he respond to it?