Table of Contents:Tenshi dragged her feet up the winding mountain path to the Motoi family besso. An uphill battle, scaling the mountain trail up the shoulder of Bald Mountain, the multiplied burden of responsibility. The path was strewn with jagged stones and wilted garden hedges. A few statues remained giving the impression of the grounds once being well-maintained before having fallen to weeds.
It had been six months since the shinobi of the Cloud discovered her and her found family in the old abandoned mountains. Ever since then their lives had become increasingly entangled. Motoi Naoki was the worst of them. A retired nin with too much time on her hands. She had been more than hospitable; offering the run of her own home. Food, beds, hot water-- they were welcome to it all. “This house is too much space for me anyway.” she half laughed. Her only requirement an insistence upon their education. “Treat it as a condition of staying under my roof.”
For the youngers, that meant schoolwork; writing, reading, math and all that. But for Tenshi it meant training.
Lady Motoi personally offered her services as a tutor but the ways of the shinobi came natural to Tenshi. Even during the Academy she rarely need to study theory. It was enough to know the mechanics, and maybe receive first-hand experience, then intuition would see her through the rest. That was until her affinity for Genjutsu had been discovered. Her zealous instructors worked tirelessly to nurture her gift. Inevitably, it became more than she could manage, but as luck would have it, their ‘benefactor’ turned out to be a specialist.
Still, she refused to ‘mooch’ and tried every means to resist the woman's invasion into her life. Fearing over reliance would change her from guest to prisoner. She’d been mostly successful; it was her adopted siblings who let themselves be tamed.
All in all, the girl thought, as she caught her breath as she made the ascent. It’s a fair price to pay. The shoulder of Bald Mountain overlooked a range of mountain pasture– a hard to beat view. She savored a lungful of fresh, clean air. It was heaven compared to the cramped cave dwellings, or old tombs and tunnels they were used to. They deserved this. And she wouldn’t be the one to take it from them.
The secluded manor's chalk white walls appeared mirage-like out of a stone facade. The structure was weathered, but the freshly repainted emblem of the Cloud Village’s renowned ‘Red Chrysanthemum’ shined on the front gate. The twice condemned mansion had remained vacant for years. Only recently had Lady Naoki begun restorations, after inheriting it from a dead aunt– or was it a sister? Either way the Motoi family passed it down like a curse.
Tenshi left her shoes outside. The lady of the manor detested messiness. She would feel guilty for disturbing the maids hard work. She never saw them. Only heard the sounds they made as they worked. They were like busy ghosts, closing doors and shuffling as they slipped through the halls.
“Hello? Here, Motoi-sensei, ” she announced. The house was woodwind hollow and echoed her greeting back at her. She tiptoed, though there was nothing for her to disturb inside but the old dust. No carpets or wall hangings to muffle the lonely sound of her footsteps. Creak! Creak!
At the end of the hall she slid aside a yellowed paper screen.
Motoi Naoki awaited her within in the small tearoom, sitting on the opposite end of a low table.
The lady of the manor wore a uchikake of scarlet and black. and an opaque, doll-like expression. An aura of frailty clung to her, it was something in the gray cast of her skin and sunken cheeks, hinting at the cause of her retirement.
“Hey, I said I’m here.”
A beat passed before the woman, still withholding eye contact, cleared her throat.
“But you can- ugh!”
Grumbling to herself, Tenshi performed her quickest bow, hands snapping to her thighs. It was either that or waste another afternoon in a standoff. Motoi was a traditionalist, the type to stand on ritual and never shift. Her sensei would settle for nothing but a proper entrance.
“Ah, there you are, Tenshi.” she said, blinking as if suddenly recognizing her.
She entered with a groan, every step followed by the soft beat of tatami. Tenshi knelt across from her sensei, amazed that the woman’s teeth weren’t chattering in this frigid room. The besso- was braced from the wind, but the stone held cold, and in the morning there were nothing but smoldering ashes in the firepit.
She looked over the room. A spider knitted cobwebs in a corner. Some creature had to make it a home. Otherwise it was completely bare.
Tenshi kept her jacket zipped up, and pulled over her nose to block out the damp, mothball smell. She cupped hands laying in her lap and closed her eyes. A signal she was ready for warm ups.
They always began their sessions with a tedious but, ultimately, very serious meditation. Lady Naoki had no patience for teasing comments about how easily she could ‘empty her mind.’"
The first time Motoi-sensei provided thorough instructions on what she called the ‘art of slowing down time.’.
Imagine a line drawing your head to the rafters. Straighten your spine.
Breathe in. Deep through the nose. Fill the diaphragm. Hold. Exhale through the mouth. Hollow the stomach.
The aim was to find inner peace– a perfect silence of thought –amidst external chaos. It was a foundational exercise in self mastery. Genjutsu required a certain flow state and this would get her there. It would serve as the basis for the lesson to come; settling her river of thoughts, which when left to its own devices often turned into rapids.
Tenshi did her best to imitate Motoi deep inhales. But each intake of breath stole all the air out of the room, leaving Tenshi to suffocate. And her sighs were a gale, she could only dig in her toes to avoid being blown away.
She kept her seat. Maintaining the punishing position while ignoring the ache in her knees.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Distantly, she heard a set of dividers slide open and shut.
She shook off the brief interruption, reset–
Breathe in. Breathe out.
–and returned to her battle of wills. The distraction proved the necessity of practice. In actual combat, the ability to think clearly amidst chaos was crucial. She had to retain possession of her mind. If she lost composure the enemy would turn it against her.
She stopped counting her breaths, it had become reflex.
She statued. The excited energy building inside of her. Tenshi breathed it all in-- the anxious unrest, pent up frustration. She refused to hold on to it. Allowing the feelings to float freely, to bubble up and pop along the surface. She submerged deeper into her mind, like slipping into an ice bath. Distractions cleared. All was void. Empty.
…
Time passed.
“Make your way back to me." The mentalist’s voice snipped the thread of concentration and her shoulders sagged.
She blinked against the light, looking upon the world with fresh eyes as if after a heavy rain. The sun had turned; the dust motes swirled in the light. Her vision centered on Lady Naoki.
The pale woman gave her the smallest nod of approval. “Let’s begin.”