A Visage From The Past - The conclusion of the Kotoya Story

[SexyPanda]

Autumn day. Brisk, not cold. Cold makes it sound like you're whining. A boy and his mother are in the forests outside of the town gates, practicing. For what? He didn't know. Why didn't he? He didn't care. There's a fine line between not knowing and not caring. Kotoya Juri walks that line every day of his life. Simple Iijutsu endurance and conditioning. Standard fare.

A patter of footsteps are heard behind them. Normally footsteps are only hear when the enemy is careless or wanting to make his appearance known. This would be a combination of the two. Incredibly nonchalantly, Misuya Juri effortlessly throws a kunai in their visitor's direction. The veiled figures simply sidesteps to the left undaunted. She turns, to get a better look at the man. A gasp, and the sound of a brandished kunai falling to the ground.

Kotoya is dead. Near dead. He wishes for death in this instance, as he does every time they happen to play his least favorite game, punching bag. He cocks his bruised neck to the side and gets a glance of a hooded man wearing a black and white striped mask. Promptly afterwards, he passes out.

~

"Karuisitsen! Dance of Blades!"

Kotoya awakes to the sound of clashing katanas. His eyes snap open, though still a bit drowsy. He remembers that they were playing Punching Bag, and, almost in a trance, he makes the hand signs needed for Mystical Palms. A few bursts of restorative chakra later, and Kotoya is back on his feet. Leaning against the tree, he spots his mother locked in battle with the man from before. He's lost his hood, and she's badly injured. Both of their blades are stained with eachother's blood. His mask is slightly chipped away to reveal actual skin underneath. His mother's secondary katana is lying on the ground next to him; she must have been disarmed.

"Kotetsuritsen! Rotary Strike!"

The man pivots on one foot and ducks under the incoming blow, then slams the hilt of his sword into her gut. She coughs up some blood and is thrown against a nearby tree. Kotoya clenches his fists.

~

He’s dead.

There’s a sword through his middle and blood pooling on the dust covered road. There isn’t a breeze to even stir the heat. Feel strange, out of place. Raise your hands up to your face and look at them, and past them the black shroud that once housed the spirit men whispered of in fear. Venom Sting. He isn't so fearsome now.

Ponder, wonder. For his father, the boy had shouted. For his father, dead by the man's hands. For me, my expression more reminscent of grief than relief. My husband’s killer is dead, now…right?

Right?

Look at the blood. Look at the sword through his middle. Look at the boy, Kotoya Juri. Recall another Juri, another male ninja. Try to remember what happened to him. Killed by the Venom Sting? The boy believes so. Recall something about an abyss, a mountain. Remember a name -- it escapes you still. The knight had shouted it once, in his search for a light.

That madness--it didn’t make him a killer. Recall the way he hadn’t attacked you, in all your encounters. Recall the Sand Village caravan, lying defeated at the side of the road, but not dead. Not dead.

Ponder, wonder. Send the boy away, lean down and remove the man's mask. Run careful fingers over his face, and he’s just a man, just a man and he’s dead and lying in the dirt and she’s crying now, tears dripping to his motionless face and falling again to the dust.

Feel shock turn to something else. Understanding.

He’s just a man then. Not a demon, not a saint, not a killer. Just a man, and his wife, and his son across the road, overjoyed for the avenging of his father. Recall gasped words and indefinable sadness. Wonder if he remembered. Pray that he did. Pray that he didn’t. Try to imagine a sadness so deep it spanned decades, generations. Try to imagine a life lost long before it ever ended. Try to comfort yourself, then stop. Realize there is nothing you can say. Turn away from the body and begin to walk away.

As you pull away from the scene at the crossroads, turn back to look at Kotoya Juri and wonder if the boy will ever realize that it was he who killed his father.

~

The light dangles in front of me, taunting me. I have no memories save my hunt for this light. This light that stole everything from me.
I am alone. I have been alone. Maybe once I had companions. Maybe once I had friends, family. I know I had a past. I just can’t remember.

My first memory is of awakening alone, beside the love of my life. But where was the love?

There was a hint in my mind, that someone else should have been there, but before I could grasp it, the hint was gone. And my only clue to what had happened to me was a white light.

And so began my search. My search that led me here.

People; a woman and a young genin surround me. I’ve seen the woman before; the light wanted her memories, but I chased it off. The two of them seem oddly familiar, but I have no time to stop and think. I must stop the light, before it steals any more memories. I must regain my memories!

Voices are shouting at me, but I ignore them. They can’t see the light, but it can see them. And it is hungry for them.

I swing my weapon wildly, trying to destroy something that always dances out of my reach. I had it…no, a miss. There! I lunge…

Pain. Agony pierces me, a fatal blow. A little boy shouts ‘For my father!’ as he thrusts his sword further into me. I gasp in pain, and slowly sink to my knees.

I look up at the light as it floats, taunting me. It has finally won. I die, without any identity save the name I created for myself, ‘Venom Sting’.

I look at the boy. He’s so young, yet he seems so familiar. He stands in front of me, and suddenly, I remember!

“Kotoya…!” I gasp out, fighting for every breath. I remember everything: Misuya, Konoha, The Sand Village, the execution! I remember!

But I remember too late. And as I watch Kotoya, my son, my only, precious, precious son fade before my eyes, I haven’t the strength to tell him the truth. I can only pray that my wife will recognize me and tell him. I pray that my wife knows how much I care for her.

But I have won. Though I kneel here, dying, I die a man with a past. A man with identity.

And despite my dying, I don’t mind as the darkness closes in around me. Not even the light can follow me in here. And for the first time in all these years I’ve chased the light, I feel at peace.

I close my eyes and let go.