Some Sorcerers do boast they have a Rod,
Gather'd with Vowes and Sacrifice,
And (borne about) will strangely nod
To hidden Treasure where it lies;
Mankind is (sure) that Rod divine,
For to the Wealthiest (ever) they incline.
— Virgula divina
Thank you for going through all of this for me. I firmly hold you responsible for making it possible for me to have this story to tell. It was quite the experience, with so many chapters— paths walked, that I have tried my best to put on pages. But when my memory muddles and the ink has dried on my quill, I find myself coming back to thoughts of you for my purpose. It behooves me to be the bard of this tale, a mere scribe, here to dote upon the history of a human boy who’d grow to walk in your shadow someday.
If I was more gifted I might be able to start this story closer to its maxim. It feels appropriate to begin humbly though, somewhere along a lonesome salt flat under an endless summer’s sun. Your bare feet might lose their soles to the heat, should you wander there unprepared. But on that day, a band of ninja from within the fortifications of Primus’ Bulwark had ventured far from home on a quest of some sort. They were a group of four, all seemingly born within that mysterious bastion and so native to that haven that they hardly ever ventured out. One of the four specialized in techniques that summoned moisture from the air into water for use in a variety of ways. At the urging of her comrades, the water conjurer was essentially put on refreshment duty, expending much of her latent chakra to create cooling veils of mist or light rains. It took everything the party had to not gulp down all the water out of their canteens, as they were desperately drinking from them as well. One might think that was all she was brought along for, though she wasn’t the only member among their troupe with a single purpose.
You see, this squad was actually traveling by way of a supply wagon belonging to one of the elite merchant lords of Soon’s Haven. Apparently, he had a son who answered the call to patriotism— or had disgraced the family and needed to disappear— and became a driver for this team. That had to be his purpose with how rotund he was, potbelly exposed and sagging below his flak jacket. He was too much of a coward to demand a greater role; he stuck to the wagon’s reigns any time their band was on the move. To his credit, he was a natural at handling the armatunk which steadily pulled their vehicle. He was kind to the beast of burden, enough to keep it willing to pace them across the unrelenting land. The beast let out groans at a regular interval, most likely cursing its own naturally armored carapace. The thick bone-like chitin gave off a calcium scent as the sun bleached them, along with a rank musk faintly reduced by the occasional arcane rain.
The two aforementioned ninjas were hardly a step up from their mount, but notably acquiescent to the pair of twin ninjas who sat arguing day in and out. All four of the ninja were approaching maturity; the oldest had to be the wagoneer and the water specialist seemed bookish but womanly. The pair seemed out of place partnered up with the other two twin ninjas who seemed to laze about all day and bark out demands. Yes, they practically barked— they were feral that way, including a single fur-trimmed shoulder guard accenting each of their uniforms. When they spoke fangs could be seen amidst off-white smiles. There were whispered rumors that the pair came from a fang-marked clan, though young as he was, Jintou had no understanding of just what that meant.
Ah, I did say there were four members to this team, didn’t I? Just as a fifth wheel sat lodged into a corner in the wagon, an academy student had been brought along on their mission in order to shadow the ninja and learn. Actually, toting a student meant a bit more pay for the mission and a little more food to share for the duration. It was of little consequence to any of the four chuunin whenever they glanced back to see the boy staring off into the horizon. Occasionally the water-girl might have checked on Jintou to make sure his canteen wasn’t tapped, but the rest of them avoided him like a nuisance. Once, Jintou overheard one of the cretinous twins speculating that he was from one of the savage tribes being run out of the badlands. The second agreed, theorizing that he likely didn’t have much of a handle on the common tongue or any social skill to speak of. After a few instances of his seniors speaking slowly to him and making gestures with their hands, Jintou deferred to acting as if he really could not understand in hopes that they would leave him alone. For the most part, playing dumb towards his seniors provided Jintou a sense of peace and privacy that he was sorely lacking since enrolling at the ninja academy. He would spend what felt like whole days in that week’s journey reminiscing of the time before he had joined that accursed school.
Jintou was missing the way his grandmother brought old stories back to life using the power of her voice and the crackle of an open flame. His sister’s absence was particularly impactful during the long journey abroad, for it was her who’d send Jintou and his brothers on day-long walks to find rare wildflower and other ingredients to make dye pigments while she sewed fabrics for their garments. Those same pigments would be used to make paint for his eldest brother’s murals— he could have made a museum out of the countless boulders that wagon passed along the way. But the reminiscing frequently came back to the lessons of his father and that deep baritone voice spouting more wisdom than Jintou could hold.
“Real ninjas have to learn how to survive off of the land”, one of the twins proclaimed when withholding adequate meals from Jintou. “Indeed, listen to my sister. ‘Consider this an opportunity to familiarize yourself with the locale flora,” put in the other, doing their best impression of some former teacher of there’s who would have admonished them for their present behavior. When the sun met the horizon and Jintou split off from camp to scrounge for something edible, it was indeed his father’s teachings that guided his steps. Rather than aimlessly searching on a flatland where he’d likely not find much, he preserved his energy and found a short boulder to sit on when his comrades were out of view. An average human could go three weeks without food, and he was being provided sufficient water from the conjurer. While the words rang true they weren’t stopping the stomach pains from kicking in, and after enduring three days of the occasional pieces of food he could steal back, his resolve was beginning to crumble.
The stars were emerging from the blanket of deep purple chasing away the sunset. Above him was the same sky he gazed at the night before his arrival in Sunagakure. He and his father had spent days traveling away from their own camp, embarked on a journey where Jintou was instilled with the values needed to survive in a world more dangerous than the wildlands they called home. “Son, we are a people who have learned to master a land that rejects the unworthy. “Be proud of your heritage and traditions, and be confident that you are greater than the obstacles ahead of you. “They will seek to make you a ninja, a weapon, but you are not some tool to be used. “You are Jintou, and you are my boy. “Once your eyes open to really see, there will be a million futures before you, and only you can decide which is the truth. “You’ll see, this sacrifice will be worth the gift awaiting us, in you.”
“I don’t want to be a ninja” whispered Jintou on bated breath, alone. His hands cupped his mouth anxiously as if he feared being heard. His mind reeled like he was racing in altitude and running out of air. The pressure, the loneliness of this new place, and feeling of utter desertion— all for him to endure to gain something he left behind? What good was a million futures if the present felt like some fresh hell? The desire to be wanted and to not be betrayed are complex and hard to recognize in a child’s developing mind. He did not understand it all, no— rather, he was trying to discover what it might take to be… valued?
“Hey kid, I see you over there hiding, it ain’t fooling nobody” called one of the menacing twins. The masculine one had come from around a tall cactus and was flinging about the last couple drops from his emptied canteen. He taunted, “for a ninja, you sure don’t know a thing about how to disappear.” This didn’t earn a reaction from Jintou though, who was hiding his face and wiping the dew of tears from his cheeks.
“Anyway,” the senior ninja said in a bid to move the awkward interaction along, “we’re in a bit of a situation back at camp. Our friend with the water jutsu is looking kind of tapped and…” he trailed off with guilt in his tones. Ironically, their human faucet of a comrade was facing heat exhaustion and dehydration from overexerting herself all day and in a bad way. Jintou could see her laying on a sleeping bag by the campfire in the distance with the others looming over her. The de facto leader snagged Jintou’s attention again, saying “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this but I read your file before the mission... It said that your clan was from this territory.” Even then he was speaking slowly, albeit desperately trying to communicate a simple request. “Could you— please — help us find some more water to help our friend?”
Jinto didn’t have the nerve to keep up his ruse of not understanding. His small hands slowly rotated the tall crook he had been carrying with him for the duration of their journey. To the unaware, the stave resembled a wooden bident with a wide fork, but to Jintou it served many purposes: a defensive weapon, a walking stick, or even a dowsing rod.
- Jintou Oba has entered the thread.
- Requesting Contract Search
- Using Discovery of Contract of Random Choice
- wc1779
Gather'd with Vowes and Sacrifice,
And (borne about) will strangely nod
To hidden Treasure where it lies;
Mankind is (sure) that Rod divine,
For to the Wealthiest (ever) they incline.
— Virgula divina
Thank you for going through all of this for me. I firmly hold you responsible for making it possible for me to have this story to tell. It was quite the experience, with so many chapters— paths walked, that I have tried my best to put on pages. But when my memory muddles and the ink has dried on my quill, I find myself coming back to thoughts of you for my purpose. It behooves me to be the bard of this tale, a mere scribe, here to dote upon the history of a human boy who’d grow to walk in your shadow someday.
If I was more gifted I might be able to start this story closer to its maxim. It feels appropriate to begin humbly though, somewhere along a lonesome salt flat under an endless summer’s sun. Your bare feet might lose their soles to the heat, should you wander there unprepared. But on that day, a band of ninja from within the fortifications of Primus’ Bulwark had ventured far from home on a quest of some sort. They were a group of four, all seemingly born within that mysterious bastion and so native to that haven that they hardly ever ventured out. One of the four specialized in techniques that summoned moisture from the air into water for use in a variety of ways. At the urging of her comrades, the water conjurer was essentially put on refreshment duty, expending much of her latent chakra to create cooling veils of mist or light rains. It took everything the party had to not gulp down all the water out of their canteens, as they were desperately drinking from them as well. One might think that was all she was brought along for, though she wasn’t the only member among their troupe with a single purpose.
You see, this squad was actually traveling by way of a supply wagon belonging to one of the elite merchant lords of Soon’s Haven. Apparently, he had a son who answered the call to patriotism— or had disgraced the family and needed to disappear— and became a driver for this team. That had to be his purpose with how rotund he was, potbelly exposed and sagging below his flak jacket. He was too much of a coward to demand a greater role; he stuck to the wagon’s reigns any time their band was on the move. To his credit, he was a natural at handling the armatunk which steadily pulled their vehicle. He was kind to the beast of burden, enough to keep it willing to pace them across the unrelenting land. The beast let out groans at a regular interval, most likely cursing its own naturally armored carapace. The thick bone-like chitin gave off a calcium scent as the sun bleached them, along with a rank musk faintly reduced by the occasional arcane rain.
The two aforementioned ninjas were hardly a step up from their mount, but notably acquiescent to the pair of twin ninjas who sat arguing day in and out. All four of the ninja were approaching maturity; the oldest had to be the wagoneer and the water specialist seemed bookish but womanly. The pair seemed out of place partnered up with the other two twin ninjas who seemed to laze about all day and bark out demands. Yes, they practically barked— they were feral that way, including a single fur-trimmed shoulder guard accenting each of their uniforms. When they spoke fangs could be seen amidst off-white smiles. There were whispered rumors that the pair came from a fang-marked clan, though young as he was, Jintou had no understanding of just what that meant.
Ah, I did say there were four members to this team, didn’t I? Just as a fifth wheel sat lodged into a corner in the wagon, an academy student had been brought along on their mission in order to shadow the ninja and learn. Actually, toting a student meant a bit more pay for the mission and a little more food to share for the duration. It was of little consequence to any of the four chuunin whenever they glanced back to see the boy staring off into the horizon. Occasionally the water-girl might have checked on Jintou to make sure his canteen wasn’t tapped, but the rest of them avoided him like a nuisance. Once, Jintou overheard one of the cretinous twins speculating that he was from one of the savage tribes being run out of the badlands. The second agreed, theorizing that he likely didn’t have much of a handle on the common tongue or any social skill to speak of. After a few instances of his seniors speaking slowly to him and making gestures with their hands, Jintou deferred to acting as if he really could not understand in hopes that they would leave him alone. For the most part, playing dumb towards his seniors provided Jintou a sense of peace and privacy that he was sorely lacking since enrolling at the ninja academy. He would spend what felt like whole days in that week’s journey reminiscing of the time before he had joined that accursed school.
Jintou was missing the way his grandmother brought old stories back to life using the power of her voice and the crackle of an open flame. His sister’s absence was particularly impactful during the long journey abroad, for it was her who’d send Jintou and his brothers on day-long walks to find rare wildflower and other ingredients to make dye pigments while she sewed fabrics for their garments. Those same pigments would be used to make paint for his eldest brother’s murals— he could have made a museum out of the countless boulders that wagon passed along the way. But the reminiscing frequently came back to the lessons of his father and that deep baritone voice spouting more wisdom than Jintou could hold.
“Real ninjas have to learn how to survive off of the land”, one of the twins proclaimed when withholding adequate meals from Jintou. “Indeed, listen to my sister. ‘Consider this an opportunity to familiarize yourself with the locale flora,” put in the other, doing their best impression of some former teacher of there’s who would have admonished them for their present behavior. When the sun met the horizon and Jintou split off from camp to scrounge for something edible, it was indeed his father’s teachings that guided his steps. Rather than aimlessly searching on a flatland where he’d likely not find much, he preserved his energy and found a short boulder to sit on when his comrades were out of view. An average human could go three weeks without food, and he was being provided sufficient water from the conjurer. While the words rang true they weren’t stopping the stomach pains from kicking in, and after enduring three days of the occasional pieces of food he could steal back, his resolve was beginning to crumble.
The stars were emerging from the blanket of deep purple chasing away the sunset. Above him was the same sky he gazed at the night before his arrival in Sunagakure. He and his father had spent days traveling away from their own camp, embarked on a journey where Jintou was instilled with the values needed to survive in a world more dangerous than the wildlands they called home. “Son, we are a people who have learned to master a land that rejects the unworthy. “Be proud of your heritage and traditions, and be confident that you are greater than the obstacles ahead of you. “They will seek to make you a ninja, a weapon, but you are not some tool to be used. “You are Jintou, and you are my boy. “Once your eyes open to really see, there will be a million futures before you, and only you can decide which is the truth. “You’ll see, this sacrifice will be worth the gift awaiting us, in you.”
“I don’t want to be a ninja” whispered Jintou on bated breath, alone. His hands cupped his mouth anxiously as if he feared being heard. His mind reeled like he was racing in altitude and running out of air. The pressure, the loneliness of this new place, and feeling of utter desertion— all for him to endure to gain something he left behind? What good was a million futures if the present felt like some fresh hell? The desire to be wanted and to not be betrayed are complex and hard to recognize in a child’s developing mind. He did not understand it all, no— rather, he was trying to discover what it might take to be… valued?
“Hey kid, I see you over there hiding, it ain’t fooling nobody” called one of the menacing twins. The masculine one had come from around a tall cactus and was flinging about the last couple drops from his emptied canteen. He taunted, “for a ninja, you sure don’t know a thing about how to disappear.” This didn’t earn a reaction from Jintou though, who was hiding his face and wiping the dew of tears from his cheeks.
“Anyway,” the senior ninja said in a bid to move the awkward interaction along, “we’re in a bit of a situation back at camp. Our friend with the water jutsu is looking kind of tapped and…” he trailed off with guilt in his tones. Ironically, their human faucet of a comrade was facing heat exhaustion and dehydration from overexerting herself all day and in a bad way. Jintou could see her laying on a sleeping bag by the campfire in the distance with the others looming over her. The de facto leader snagged Jintou’s attention again, saying “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this but I read your file before the mission... It said that your clan was from this territory.” Even then he was speaking slowly, albeit desperately trying to communicate a simple request. “Could you— please — help us find some more water to help our friend?”
Jinto didn’t have the nerve to keep up his ruse of not understanding. His small hands slowly rotated the tall crook he had been carrying with him for the duration of their journey. To the unaware, the stave resembled a wooden bident with a wide fork, but to Jintou it served many purposes: a defensive weapon, a walking stick, or even a dowsing rod.
- Jintou Oba has entered the thread.
- Requesting Contract Search
- Using Discovery of Contract of Random Choice
- wc1779
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