A gentle hum beneath a louder one - offset, as if a stream winding near a bubbling river. It was only the undercurrent of a sigh, perceptible by the rise and fall of his chest and the part of pale lips. That louder murmur, however quiet it was, quickly overtook even this gentle noise: it was the tap of pencils, scratching of paper, and chatter from students on similar assignments. His own sound wasn't a testament to disappointment or frustration, more alike to an exhalation from the burden of your every day. It drifted, too, into the imposing space above his slight frame, coalescing with every odd noise to become nothing at all. He sat alone, waiting for their group to converge, toying with the edges of books and letting his nerves wash over him for too many minutes.
It was just so empty. Even with the other students, even with the wandering proctors and librarians, even with every book piled high and long in rows and on tables - it was just so empty. It was almost too much for Kiseki, shoulders hunching as if he could curl so deeply into himself he'd disappear. There was pressure to the lack of it. An invisible force beneath the boundless ocean. Not a fish out of water, just one that wondered if it was too deep in it?
This wasn't a difficult lesson, nor was it one he so much as dreaded; he was excited, even, to leave his little world, bit by it. It was what he wanted for himself. Away from Ichika, maybe, but that didn't clip his wings necessarily. He had flown so high - so quickly - that while he felt he had ... evolved, somewhat, into more of the person and shinobi he wanted to be, he could use ... something less intense. Some kind of interaction that didn't leave his face burning and heart pounding louder than words could reach him. He almost felt as if the lack of adrenaline was a kick all on its own, floating not weightless in this weird limbo space between being glad to throw himself into something more studious and working himself up to meet that level of social.
It was 'What kind of Shinobi do you want to be.'
then 'What footprints do you seek to follow.'
and so 'How do you become that person.'
All questions to be asked of the youth branching themselves into the greater world, especially in a society like this one; one that cultivated power, authority, direction. Ambition. It could never be said that Kiseki lacked that ambition, but actually living up to it? Knowing how you were going to get there past the age old 'one day at a time'? It wasn't enough to just come up with an idea. If Kiseki was just allowed to say his truth - make that promise that he was going to become the strength for a world that wouldn't need to shelter its weak, because there was no fear left to fear - then it'd be so easy to pass this on creed alone.
But, no, that wasn't enough. They had to discuss. They had to challenge. Even now, there was no room for the weak-hearted and directionless. Even now, just when he had set out from the hollow, ears still wet with dew as they met their first morning sun ...
He had never before wondered if the dreams of those around him could oppose his own, nor did he think he had what it takes to confront that. The stammer of his heart wouldn't be able to handle a debate. Slow breaths. Shake out the frost - move your limbs - blink deep blue once, twice, and find your center. He wasn't alone. It might feel empty, right now, but he wasn't alone. School to a fish just meant home.
The other students for the study group were arriving, Shinsetsu Shōhei and Sumika Ryuu, so he rose to meet them; the act not making him much taller, but at least it was respectful?
"H, hello," he started, his voice almost as light as the sigh he first expelled. It was an uneven tenor, holding wavering notes that pealed like bellsong. He caught himself, swallowed back his stutter, and offered a bow. "Hello. I'm Kiseki Akane. Thank you for doing this assignment with me. I can't wait -," he stumbled, politeness winning over anxiety. "I can't wait to figure out our plans out together." Did that sound right? Was there a better way to express himself? Aaaaaaa.
It was just so empty. Even with the other students, even with the wandering proctors and librarians, even with every book piled high and long in rows and on tables - it was just so empty. It was almost too much for Kiseki, shoulders hunching as if he could curl so deeply into himself he'd disappear. There was pressure to the lack of it. An invisible force beneath the boundless ocean. Not a fish out of water, just one that wondered if it was too deep in it?
This wasn't a difficult lesson, nor was it one he so much as dreaded; he was excited, even, to leave his little world, bit by it. It was what he wanted for himself. Away from Ichika, maybe, but that didn't clip his wings necessarily. He had flown so high - so quickly - that while he felt he had ... evolved, somewhat, into more of the person and shinobi he wanted to be, he could use ... something less intense. Some kind of interaction that didn't leave his face burning and heart pounding louder than words could reach him. He almost felt as if the lack of adrenaline was a kick all on its own, floating not weightless in this weird limbo space between being glad to throw himself into something more studious and working himself up to meet that level of social.
It was 'What kind of Shinobi do you want to be.'
then 'What footprints do you seek to follow.'
and so 'How do you become that person.'
All questions to be asked of the youth branching themselves into the greater world, especially in a society like this one; one that cultivated power, authority, direction. Ambition. It could never be said that Kiseki lacked that ambition, but actually living up to it? Knowing how you were going to get there past the age old 'one day at a time'? It wasn't enough to just come up with an idea. If Kiseki was just allowed to say his truth - make that promise that he was going to become the strength for a world that wouldn't need to shelter its weak, because there was no fear left to fear - then it'd be so easy to pass this on creed alone.
But, no, that wasn't enough. They had to discuss. They had to challenge. Even now, there was no room for the weak-hearted and directionless. Even now, just when he had set out from the hollow, ears still wet with dew as they met their first morning sun ...
He had never before wondered if the dreams of those around him could oppose his own, nor did he think he had what it takes to confront that. The stammer of his heart wouldn't be able to handle a debate. Slow breaths. Shake out the frost - move your limbs - blink deep blue once, twice, and find your center. He wasn't alone. It might feel empty, right now, but he wasn't alone. School to a fish just meant home.
The other students for the study group were arriving, Shinsetsu Shōhei and Sumika Ryuu, so he rose to meet them; the act not making him much taller, but at least it was respectful?
"H, hello," he started, his voice almost as light as the sigh he first expelled. It was an uneven tenor, holding wavering notes that pealed like bellsong. He caught himself, swallowed back his stutter, and offered a bow. "Hello. I'm Kiseki Akane. Thank you for doing this assignment with me. I can't wait -," he stumbled, politeness winning over anxiety. "I can't wait to figure out our plans out together." Did that sound right? Was there a better way to express himself? Aaaaaaa.
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