The towering peaks of Lightning Country loomed in the distance, their jagged silhouettes softened by the pale glow of dawn. Shizue Tsuchimikado pulled her fur-lined and weather-resistant cloak tighter around her shoulders, the crisp mountain air biting at her skin. She had set out alone before the first light, weaving through dense pine forests and mist-laden valleys, drawn by an inexplicable pull toward the untouched wilderness. There were no maps guiding her path, only instinct and the quiet murmur of the wind. She was told that getting lost in nature was the way to go about this task, so into nature she ventured.
The forest floor crackled underfoot, layers of damp pine needles and brittle twigs crushed beneath her sandals. The scent of frozen rain still lingered from last night’s storm, mingling with the rich, resinous aroma of pine needles and earth. Birds called from the canopy, their melodies blending with the distant rustling of unseen creatures shifting through the underbrush. A fox, its coat a fiery streak against the deep green, paused to watch her before vanishing into the foliage. She noticed that it was hunting, something, from its tail’s position low to the ground.
She wandered deeper, moving through the wild terrain with practiced ease. She had come here often as a child to escape her father and his machinations and just breathe a bit. Shizue always felt more at peace here than almost any other place. Here, the trees grew taller, their trunks thick with age, their roots coiling beneath the earth like veins of some great, slumbering beast. Each step carried her further into a realm untouched by human hands, where time slowed, and the concerns of the world felt as distant as the sky above. The air was thick with the energy of the land, humming beneath her skin in a way that was both familiar and foreign.
Shizue breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the crisp morning air. This was the untouched wild, far removed from the hum of village life it seemed, where chakra pulsed through the land like an unbroken current. Here, the energy of the world did not feel like an abstract force—no longer a theory in dusty scrolls, nor a tool sharpened through rigid training. It was alive, threaded through every whisper of wind and ripple of water. It surged beneath the ground, wove through the gnarled bark of the ancient trees, and pulsed in the wings of the birds gliding overhead. It was not something to be harnessed or controlled; it simply was.
She reached a clearing, a secluded space where the light spilled through the gaps in the towering pines. A shallow stream carved its way through the rocks, its surface shimmering like liquid glass. The gentle murmur of running water and the rhythmic creak of tree branches swaying overhead formed a natural harmony. A fallen tree, its bark stripped away by time, but not yet rotted by the rigors of decay, rested at the water’s edge, forming a makeshift bench where she settled herself. She let the world settle around her, feeling the cool dampness of the moss-covered wood beneath her fingertips.
A hush settled over her, as if nature itself recognized the presence of something attuned to its rhythm. Shizue shifted off of the bench and knelt on the cool earth, pressing her palms against the ground. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. The world around her faded—not disappearing, but transforming into something deeper, something that existed beyond sight. The steady beat of her heart slowed, syncing with the rhythm of the land. Chakra, subtle yet ever-present, wove through her veins like the shifting tides, pulling at the edges of her consciousness. All of this was in her mind, her subconscious painting pictures as she stilled herself.
She let it flow freely, unfurling like roots sinking into the soil. She reached out—not with her hands, but with her very being—casting herself into the vast, living presence around her. The energy of the earth pulsed beneath her fingertips, warm and steady. She could feel the heartbeat of the land, the lingering presence of creatures long gone, the whisper of something ancient stirring just beyond her grasp, or she imagined she could.
The wind shifted, curling around her like a playful spirit. It carried the scent of damp wood and wildflowers, of something untamed and watching. The rustling of leaves became a voice, indistinct but ever-present, a language beyond words that spoke in pulses of chakra and sensation. It was not just sound—it was intention, a whisper of something ancient and knowing.
She had come here for a reason.
A summoning contract did not appear through force or demand. It was not something to be conquered or seized. It was a connection, an understanding woven between two beings—the land, the spirits, and herself. If she was to find one, she had to listen. Not so much with her ears, but with her skin, with her breath, with her mind. She had to open herself fully, to become part of the world rather than an intruder breaking into it.
Shizue grounded herself on her knees, pressing her fingertips lightly to the earth. The damp soil was cool against her skin, pulsing with the quiet rhythm of the land. She inhaled deeply, drawing in the breath of the forest, the mingling of decay and renewal. This place was alive, shifting and breathing alongside her. She had read stories of those who sought out the spirits of the wild, of their trials and their triumphs. But no words could capture what it truly meant to stand on the threshold of something vast and unknowable.
Her breathing steadied. She felt the cool air against her skin, the dampness of the moss beneath her fingers. Every inhale drew in the life around her, every exhale released her hesitation. She surrendered to the vastness of it, letting go of the restless thoughts that clung to her like shadows. Doubt, expectation, fear—she let them drift away like leaves upon a stream. What remained was stillness, an openness that reached beyond the limits of her own body.
The forest answered in silence.
Not an emptiness, but a presence so immense it felt like the sky stretching infinitely above her. It did not rush to greet her, nor did it push her away. It simply watched. She, in turn, added her own small silence to the larger silence, making up only a small piece of the larger symphony of silence.
Shizue stayed still, patient. She could not force a bond, nor demand recognition. All she could do was exist in this moment, with nothing but her chakra and the unseen eyes of the wild upon her. The rustling in the trees, the rippling of the stream, the distant call of a hawk—all of it swirled together, wrapping around her in a quiet understanding.
She remained in that state for what felt like hours, the sun shifting overhead, the shadows lengthening. Time blurred. Her connection to the land grew deeper, weaving her awareness into the very fabric of the wilderness. She traced the flow of energy, following it like a thread through the landscape. The wind hummed, whispering hints of movement, of possibilities unseen. The sensation of being watched did not fade, but it changed—less distant, more curious. She didn’t know whether it was lack of food and water, or whether a meditative state had set in, but time lost all meaning then, the coolness of the mountain air broke for the warmth of the sun, and then started to coalesce around her again for the evening.
A rustling to her left. The faintest sound of breathing, the crunch of leaves shifting under unseen feet. Her eyes remained closed, her senses extending outward. The presence did not step closer, nor did it retreat. It simply was. A test, perhaps? A moment of mutual recognition between two beings seeking understanding.
She did not reach out, did not chase the moment. Instead, she let her chakra remain steady, an open invitation rather than a demand. If she was to be accepted, it would be through trust, through patience, through the steady rhythm of being. She had read of shinobi forcing contracts, of dominion claimed through power and control. But this was not her way. She sought not a servant, but a partner—one that would choose her as much as she chose them.
Time slipped away. The forest continued its quiet symphony, the distant howl of wind through the valleys and over peaks joining the rustling of branches. Her body ached slightly from remaining still so long, but she embraced the discomfort. It was a small sacrifice for the path she sought.
Her mind drifted deeper into meditation. She thought of the summoners of old, those who had walked the hidden paths before her. Had they knelt in places like this, feeling the same pull of the unknown? Had they been tested, watched, waited upon by beings who measured their worth in ways unseen? She imagined them, scattered across time, kneeling beneath different moons, calling out not with words but with presence. She was one of them now, part of an unbroken tradition stretching beyond memory.
The presence in the forest stirred once more, a shift so subtle it could have been mistaken for wind. But Shizue felt it, a flicker against the edges of her chakra. A brush of awareness, feather-light and fleeting. It was a silent acknowledgement, a whisper of something that had yet to take form. A beginning.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone.
Shizue exhaled, opening her eyes. The sun had shifted, dipping lower into the sky. The moment had passed, but she was not discouraged. She had not expected instant success—such things took time, took faith. She would return. Again and again, she would kneel before the wild, offer her patience, her respect. And one day, the forest would answer her call.
She rose slowly, stretching her limbs. The whisper of the unseen still lingered at the edges of her mind, a promise left unspoken. She smiled to herself, adjusting her cloak and looking at her now soiled pants from the damp of the forest floor. The path home awaited, but she knew this journey had only just begun.
As she turned to leave, a gust of wind surged through the clearing, rattling the branches. A single leaf, dark as night, drifted to the ground before her. She knelt, picking it up gently. Was it merely coincidence? Or a sign? She didn’t know, but she allowed hope to seep into the cracks of doubt, creating a kind of instant kintsugi, the gold of hope mending the cracks of doubt in the pottery of her resolve.
The forest floor crackled underfoot, layers of damp pine needles and brittle twigs crushed beneath her sandals. The scent of frozen rain still lingered from last night’s storm, mingling with the rich, resinous aroma of pine needles and earth. Birds called from the canopy, their melodies blending with the distant rustling of unseen creatures shifting through the underbrush. A fox, its coat a fiery streak against the deep green, paused to watch her before vanishing into the foliage. She noticed that it was hunting, something, from its tail’s position low to the ground.
She wandered deeper, moving through the wild terrain with practiced ease. She had come here often as a child to escape her father and his machinations and just breathe a bit. Shizue always felt more at peace here than almost any other place. Here, the trees grew taller, their trunks thick with age, their roots coiling beneath the earth like veins of some great, slumbering beast. Each step carried her further into a realm untouched by human hands, where time slowed, and the concerns of the world felt as distant as the sky above. The air was thick with the energy of the land, humming beneath her skin in a way that was both familiar and foreign.
Shizue breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the crisp morning air. This was the untouched wild, far removed from the hum of village life it seemed, where chakra pulsed through the land like an unbroken current. Here, the energy of the world did not feel like an abstract force—no longer a theory in dusty scrolls, nor a tool sharpened through rigid training. It was alive, threaded through every whisper of wind and ripple of water. It surged beneath the ground, wove through the gnarled bark of the ancient trees, and pulsed in the wings of the birds gliding overhead. It was not something to be harnessed or controlled; it simply was.
She reached a clearing, a secluded space where the light spilled through the gaps in the towering pines. A shallow stream carved its way through the rocks, its surface shimmering like liquid glass. The gentle murmur of running water and the rhythmic creak of tree branches swaying overhead formed a natural harmony. A fallen tree, its bark stripped away by time, but not yet rotted by the rigors of decay, rested at the water’s edge, forming a makeshift bench where she settled herself. She let the world settle around her, feeling the cool dampness of the moss-covered wood beneath her fingertips.
A hush settled over her, as if nature itself recognized the presence of something attuned to its rhythm. Shizue shifted off of the bench and knelt on the cool earth, pressing her palms against the ground. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. The world around her faded—not disappearing, but transforming into something deeper, something that existed beyond sight. The steady beat of her heart slowed, syncing with the rhythm of the land. Chakra, subtle yet ever-present, wove through her veins like the shifting tides, pulling at the edges of her consciousness. All of this was in her mind, her subconscious painting pictures as she stilled herself.
She let it flow freely, unfurling like roots sinking into the soil. She reached out—not with her hands, but with her very being—casting herself into the vast, living presence around her. The energy of the earth pulsed beneath her fingertips, warm and steady. She could feel the heartbeat of the land, the lingering presence of creatures long gone, the whisper of something ancient stirring just beyond her grasp, or she imagined she could.
The wind shifted, curling around her like a playful spirit. It carried the scent of damp wood and wildflowers, of something untamed and watching. The rustling of leaves became a voice, indistinct but ever-present, a language beyond words that spoke in pulses of chakra and sensation. It was not just sound—it was intention, a whisper of something ancient and knowing.
She had come here for a reason.
A summoning contract did not appear through force or demand. It was not something to be conquered or seized. It was a connection, an understanding woven between two beings—the land, the spirits, and herself. If she was to find one, she had to listen. Not so much with her ears, but with her skin, with her breath, with her mind. She had to open herself fully, to become part of the world rather than an intruder breaking into it.
Shizue grounded herself on her knees, pressing her fingertips lightly to the earth. The damp soil was cool against her skin, pulsing with the quiet rhythm of the land. She inhaled deeply, drawing in the breath of the forest, the mingling of decay and renewal. This place was alive, shifting and breathing alongside her. She had read stories of those who sought out the spirits of the wild, of their trials and their triumphs. But no words could capture what it truly meant to stand on the threshold of something vast and unknowable.
Her breathing steadied. She felt the cool air against her skin, the dampness of the moss beneath her fingers. Every inhale drew in the life around her, every exhale released her hesitation. She surrendered to the vastness of it, letting go of the restless thoughts that clung to her like shadows. Doubt, expectation, fear—she let them drift away like leaves upon a stream. What remained was stillness, an openness that reached beyond the limits of her own body.
The forest answered in silence.
Not an emptiness, but a presence so immense it felt like the sky stretching infinitely above her. It did not rush to greet her, nor did it push her away. It simply watched. She, in turn, added her own small silence to the larger silence, making up only a small piece of the larger symphony of silence.
Shizue stayed still, patient. She could not force a bond, nor demand recognition. All she could do was exist in this moment, with nothing but her chakra and the unseen eyes of the wild upon her. The rustling in the trees, the rippling of the stream, the distant call of a hawk—all of it swirled together, wrapping around her in a quiet understanding.
She remained in that state for what felt like hours, the sun shifting overhead, the shadows lengthening. Time blurred. Her connection to the land grew deeper, weaving her awareness into the very fabric of the wilderness. She traced the flow of energy, following it like a thread through the landscape. The wind hummed, whispering hints of movement, of possibilities unseen. The sensation of being watched did not fade, but it changed—less distant, more curious. She didn’t know whether it was lack of food and water, or whether a meditative state had set in, but time lost all meaning then, the coolness of the mountain air broke for the warmth of the sun, and then started to coalesce around her again for the evening.
A rustling to her left. The faintest sound of breathing, the crunch of leaves shifting under unseen feet. Her eyes remained closed, her senses extending outward. The presence did not step closer, nor did it retreat. It simply was. A test, perhaps? A moment of mutual recognition between two beings seeking understanding.
She did not reach out, did not chase the moment. Instead, she let her chakra remain steady, an open invitation rather than a demand. If she was to be accepted, it would be through trust, through patience, through the steady rhythm of being. She had read of shinobi forcing contracts, of dominion claimed through power and control. But this was not her way. She sought not a servant, but a partner—one that would choose her as much as she chose them.
Time slipped away. The forest continued its quiet symphony, the distant howl of wind through the valleys and over peaks joining the rustling of branches. Her body ached slightly from remaining still so long, but she embraced the discomfort. It was a small sacrifice for the path she sought.
Her mind drifted deeper into meditation. She thought of the summoners of old, those who had walked the hidden paths before her. Had they knelt in places like this, feeling the same pull of the unknown? Had they been tested, watched, waited upon by beings who measured their worth in ways unseen? She imagined them, scattered across time, kneeling beneath different moons, calling out not with words but with presence. She was one of them now, part of an unbroken tradition stretching beyond memory.
The presence in the forest stirred once more, a shift so subtle it could have been mistaken for wind. But Shizue felt it, a flicker against the edges of her chakra. A brush of awareness, feather-light and fleeting. It was a silent acknowledgement, a whisper of something that had yet to take form. A beginning.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone.
Shizue exhaled, opening her eyes. The sun had shifted, dipping lower into the sky. The moment had passed, but she was not discouraged. She had not expected instant success—such things took time, took faith. She would return. Again and again, she would kneel before the wild, offer her patience, her respect. And one day, the forest would answer her call.
She rose slowly, stretching her limbs. The whisper of the unseen still lingered at the edges of her mind, a promise left unspoken. She smiled to herself, adjusting her cloak and looking at her now soiled pants from the damp of the forest floor. The path home awaited, but she knew this journey had only just begun.
As she turned to leave, a gust of wind surged through the clearing, rattling the branches. A single leaf, dark as night, drifted to the ground before her. She knelt, picking it up gently. Was it merely coincidence? Or a sign? She didn’t know, but she allowed hope to seep into the cracks of doubt, creating a kind of instant kintsugi, the gold of hope mending the cracks of doubt in the pottery of her resolve.
