Hello, I have been RPing on this site since 2007, and have recently gone inactive. I joined the military, and will not be available for RPing until at least after basic training (early next year). In the meantime, I would like to offer, for your consideration, my new character. Though my current character is a chunnin, I would like my new character to come in as a student (with the proper stat reductions of course). This would be beneficial to the characters development because, by the time I exit basic training, I’ll be able to use my experience to augment and add detail to my character’s personality and experiences at the Academy. While my character’s backstory names him as a Nanjirou, his Wrath Seal hasn’t become active and it may or may not (depending on my RP experiences with him and my application for the Bloodline). Questions, comments and concerns are welcome.
Characters General Description:
Character's Physical Description:
Character's Mental Description:
History:
Another groan escaped his throat as he sat up, yawning widely and scratching at his lopsided mess of sleep-mussed hair. Brushing one dark chocolate-colored lock from his face and kicking the covers off the rest of his body, he revealed his sleep attire (or, more accurately, lack thereof) of red and white striped boxers. Slowly and deliberately, he stretched every muscle in his body starting from his outer extremities and working his way in, finishing with some rather satisfying popping and cracking as he twisted his back and neck. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stepped down onto the hardwood floor with a creak. Struggling half-blind from eyes still unwilling to open fully, Shinken pulled on a pair of black loose athletic shorts and a white sleeveless shirt (his standard at-home attire), and meandered downstairs for breakfast.
Shinken was not a “morning person”…
His bare feet shuffled across the floor and down the steps, the wood worn smooth from years of treading feet. The house had been built by his grandfather and father back when they had first moved to the village. Shinken’s father had been about his age then (twelve or thirteen… I don’t remember. Anyhow, Shinken is thirteen). The local stonemason, carpenter, and glassmaker had all arranged a mutually-beneficial deal with his grandfather, who was a blacksmith, and had helped in the construction of the house and the subsequent attached smithy. As such, everything in the house, from the hinges on the doors to the furniture and the stone the walls were constructed of, was strong and reliable in a way that only hand-crafted work can be. Shinken had been told that the place used to be sparsely decorated, with only his grandfathers shrine to his ancestors as any form of ornamentation. When Shinken’s father married, his mother had added all the womanly touches that made the house a home; pictures, nick-nacks, throw rugs and the like. Their subtle beauty was lost on Shinken as he blindly made his way to the kitchen in a way only someone who has lived in a place all their life can do.
The smell of eggs and bacon frying and bread toasting made Shinken’s mouth water, but more important was the steaming mug of black coffee sitting on the table in front of his seat. Thumping down into his seat, he blindly pawed for the mug, grasping it firmly and bringing the rim expertly to his lips and taking a long sip. SIGH
“Good morning, honey!” Shinken’s mother WAS a morning person, much to the chagrin of her son and husband. All he got from his dad was a satisfied grunt from behind the newspaper he was reading.
”’Morning…” He said groggily, blowing across the top of the steaming liquid to cool it before chugging more than half of the contents of the mug in one swallow. The sound of his mother setting the coffeepot and their breakfast on the table snapped his eyes open. While his mother sat and joined the pair for breakfast, the two males at the table dug into their food. Simultaneously, they turned their plates so their scrambled eggs were closest to them, and began cutting them into even smaller pieces with the same rocking motion of arms and forks before digging in.
“I’ve got to go to the market this morning, we’re almost out of milk and flour.” Shinken’s mother said in her chipper, matter-of-fact voice. All she got from the two men in her life were grunts of acknowledgement as they finished their eggs, turned their plates counterclockwise, and began working diligently on their bacon. The middle-aged woman smiled, the lines on her face becoming clearer. She’d married an amazing man; strong, dependable, caring, and surprisingly gentle. Together, they had made their son; but he was the spitting image of his father. She could see that same determination in his eyes, the same inner strength and unwavering will to do what was right. As they turned their plates counterclockwise one more time to begin eating their toast, she noticed the vague shape of a black ring through the center of her sons white undershirt. She frowned at that. Her husband’s father had insisted that a Shaman from the Nanjirou clan place their clan seal on his chest at birth. Shinken’s father and grandfather both bore similar seals; fist-sized rings of ancient kanji and other symbols she didn’t recognize. She had been raised her entire life in a village that believed only the fools who didn’t have the ability to understand science and math believed in such things as ancestor worship and deities. In the end, she had conceded. Her husband had said the seals were mostly ceremonial, as no one in their family had been able to channel the power of their ancestors for generations. Now her son had what amounted to a cool looking, fist sized tattoo over his heart. It had made him pretty popular at school when he was getting dressed for gym class; and he needed all the help he could get to make friends. She loved her son, but sometimes she swore he spent more time face-first in a book than he ought to.
As they finished their toast, the two stood up and placed their plates and mugs in the sink. Her husband muttered something about having to get to work, her son about having to get ready for school. Then they kissed her on the cheek, thanked her for breakfast, and headed upstairs. They even had the same, heavy-footed swagger in their walk. She smiled as she stood up, washed the dishes, and went upstairs to get ready to go to the market.
-.-.-.-
Several hours later, Shinken was sitting in math class, staring at the clock on the wall. He’d already finished his equations and turned them in, but the teacher wouldn’t let him read the book he had tucked in his bag. ’Pompous ass…’ He thought, shooting a glare at the fat balding man sitting behind the desk at the front of the class struggling through a Sudoku. The man had called a parent-teacher conference last week because Shinken had been “goofing off” in class. He was the only adult Shinken knew who considered reading classic literature after finishing his class work “goofing off.” The only solace Shinken had was that classes ended three hours early today. Granted, the reason was almost as torturous as math class. Every year, the government sent Shinobi from Iwagakure to test all the youth for chakra sensitivity and potential. It meant that you got to stand in line with the rest of the school for a couple of hours while waiting to meet the tester who, by all accounts, used some sort of magic to tell whether or not you should be a shinobi. No one from their town had ever been selected, but it was an excuse to get out of class early and socialize… or sit there quietly and read while everyone else socializes around you and ignores your existence. Either way, it didn’t matter to him.
The bell finally rang, and the class began packing up their things and heading down to the gymnasium. The students had to sit with their classmates for the duration of the waiting period, and of course Shinken’s friends had been assigned to the class two doors down the hall from him, preventing them from sitting next to each other at the edges of their respective groups. With a resigned sigh, he followed his class representative up the bleachers and past his friends, taking a seat near the top so he could lean against the back wall while he read. After an obnoxiously long wait, during which Shinken not only finished the book he brought, but also completed all the homework his teachers had given him for over the weekend, his name was finally called. Quickly packing up his stuff, Shinken made his way down the stairs and across the gymnasium floor to the boys locker room.
The place smelled of stale sweat and bleach trying its hardest to cover up the latter; he hated the locker room. When he was younger, his classmates had made a big deal about his Nanjirou seal. A vast majority thought it was cool, though the kids who he was already friends with didn’t make a big deal about it. There were a few (and every school has a few of these) who took it as a challenge. It only took one fool to discover that being an apprentice blacksmith made one uncommonly strong; and, while his principle stood her ground on the schools zero-tolerance for violence policy, during his suspension his parents praised him for defending himself and gave him free reign at a book store with triple his normal allowance.
Standing in the middle of the locker room were three people; the school principle, the school guidance counselor, and the Shinobi examiner.
“Nanjirou Shinken…?” His principle asked, his nasally voice matching perfectly with his tweed suit. Shinken had never liked the man, and had avoided him as much as humanly possible while at school. The counselor took one look at Shinken and nodded.
“Yep; come on over here, Nanjirou.” The counselor said, pointing at an “X” marked on the floor with black tape. He didn’t particularly enjoy the company of the counselor either; the man was condescending, treating everyone in the school (regardless of their age or maturity level) like a child half their age. Silently, Shinken obeyed, knowing it would only take a few minutes for the Shinobi to look him over and dismiss him. The ninja was holding a clipboard and wearing what appeared to be some sort of torso body armor and dark grey fatigues; but what was most intriguing was the mans eyes. They were a pale opalescent white that seemed to pierce through ones soul. When the man spoke, his voice was soft and smooth.
“Nanjirou? The Samurai Clan?”
”Yes, sir.”
“If I recall correctly, your previous examinations came back negative. Well, this will be the last year you have to undergo the exam. Such a shame your ancestors didn’t bless you with their gifts.” Shinken rolled his eyes at that. He was just as skeptical about anything supernatural as his mother and the rest of the people in the village besides his grandfather. The shinobi smirked at his attitude before retorting smugly. “Well, it’s no wonder… Let’s get this over with then.” That said, the man closed his eyes and focused for a moment, then opened them wide: “Byakugan…” He whispered reverently, the veins around his eyes bulging from his face. He passed what was seemingly a fleeting glance over Shinkens body from head to foot; but then his eyes darted back up to his chest and lingered for a long moment on his Wrath Seal before his eyes returned to normal. “Alright, we’re finished. Go ahead and go home.” Shinken bowed and left hurriedly, though he swore he heard the examiner say “Interesting…”
-.-.-.-
The heat thrown from the forge was painfully hot, so hot that the sparks that flew from the steel as Shinken struck it felt cool by comparison when they landed on his bare arms. There was no other choice when the heat was this intense, the sleeves of his white linen work shirt were rolled up; sweat trickled down his forearms, little white scars from the innumerable sparks pockmarked his flesh. While he usually ended up working the bellows and the tongs or mounting the heads of tools onto the hafts, his father would craft the pieces. It was only recently that his father trusted him with shaping the metal as well, which left him free to help more around the front of the shop, where his grandfather or mother usually took care of the register. Today he was shaping a new plow blade for a local farmer when his father was called into the house by his mother, something about having a visitor. As Shinken quenched the steel with an eruption of steam and a hiss, his mother came in through the back door.
“Honey, could you come to the kitchen please? There’s someone here to see you.” Her voice sounded shaky, and her face was pale. Shinken’s eyes narrowed in concern as his stomach clenched with nerves.
”Sure thing, mom. I’ll be right there.” He pulled the plow blade from the water and dried it quickly before removing his gloves and tucking them into his apron pocked, hanging it on a peg by the back door before heading in.
The back door to the smithy was also the back door to the kitchen, and there were four people at the kitchen table: his mother, his father, his grandfather, and the shinobi examiner from the school. ”Who’s watching the store?”
“We closed early. There’s something we need to discuss.” His father said, wringing his calloused hands. Shinken had never seen his father so anxious before, his eyes darting from one face to the next, he pulled out his chair at the table and sat.
”What’s going on?”
The Shinobi Examiner introduced himself, “My name is Jounin Ichigo. I performed your chakra sensitivity exam earlier today.” Shinken nodded. “Over the last few years, your tests came back negative for chakra sensitivity and production; but your test today was positive for minute amounts of chakra, generally around the area your seal was placed and radiating outward from there. Looks like your ancestors think you have some potential after all.” The man smirked in what Shinken was sure he thought was sarcastically funny.
”What does that mean?”
“It means that you have the potential to become a shinobi of Iwagakure; and, in accordance with the laws of Earth Country, you are hereby drafted into the Shinobi Academy.”
“You’re going to be an honorable worrier of the Nanjirou clan,” Shinken’s grandfather said proudly, clasping a gnarled hand on his grandsons shoulder. Shinken could only sit there in shocked silence while his mother sobbed into a handkerchief. “Just like your great-great-grandfather. You’ve also got a few cousins that are shinobi. I am so very proud of you.”
Shinken sat in silence for a few moments while everyone stared at him. His entire life flashed before his eyes, along with all the plans he had been making for the future; taking over the smithy one day, getting married and raising a small family, passing on his trade to his own son… None of that mattered now. His road in life had been chosen for him, but it was up to him to make his own path within the borders he was given. A quote from his favorite band came to mind; ’We draw our own designs, but fortune has to make that frame.’ He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair.
”Well… when do I start?”
“I’ll be continuing my testing route throughout the rest of the country; those who have been selected for service will stay with their families until I finish my route. On my way back to Iwagakure, I’ll stop by and pick up each of the Future Shinobi from their homes and escort them to the Village. Your pickup date, barring that there aren’t any more suitable candidates, should be forty-seven days from today. We’ll meet the night before to make sure you have everything you need, then we’ll leave the next day and travel to the Capitol via railroad. If there are any changes to the schedule, I’ll send a letter in advance with updated information.” He reached down and unzipped a backpack that Shinken had just noticed was sitting beside the Examiners chair on the floor, and removed three paperback booklets; each only a few inches tall and wide, and no more than an inch thick. He handed them across the table to the boy, who took them silently. “You’re going to need to have read these by the time I return for you.”
“One is a basic physical training regimen complete with drawings and descriptions of the various exercises you’ll need to begin doing in order improve your physical condition before entering the academy. There are a few different exercise routine schedules based on how long you’ll have before entering the Academy. I suggest using the “30 day” schedule, and just continuing on for the two weeks after that schedule ends. The second covers some of the basic information you’ll need to know; rank structure, the phonetic alphabet, military time, etcetera. Read it thoroughly. I will test you and the other recruits while we’re en route to the Village. The third is a descriptor of village culture and religion. I know most people outside the village are more… secular… in their views on the divines, but they are a major part of our way of life. If you have an opinion on the matter, I’d whole-heartedly suggest you keep it to yourself. This third book should help ease the culture-shock of transitioning from civilian to village life. Do you have any questions?”
Shinken shook his head. ”No, sir.”
“Good. I’ve got a tight schedule to keep, and I’m sure you have much to discuss; I’ll go ahead and show myself out.” The family nodded as the Jounin rose, bowed, and left. The sound of the door closing was solid and final, seemingly threatening them to keep their silence. Minutes passed without a word. All eyes were on Shinken, while his eyes remained fixed on the table. After what felt like an eternity, the boy rose.
”Well… Got plenty of work in the shop to do… Should get back to it…”
“Don’t worry about it, son.” His father said, standing as well. “You go ahead and take the rest of the day off; I’ll finish up in the shop. Dear,” He turned to his wife. “could you get started on making dinner? Your chicken and dumplings with white cheddar biscuits would be nice…” It was Shinkens favorite dish, and everyone knew it.
“Y-yes, honey; and… and a blueberry cobbler for dessert,” His mother said, choking back sobs and quickly wiping a tear from her eye with her apron before standing and digging out pots and pans a little more loudly than was necessary.
“Why don’t you go for a walk, my boy; maybe read some of those books there? A little fresh air will do you some good.” His grandfather smiled warmly, patting him on the back as he rose. “I’ve got some letters to write; see if one of our cousins in the Village will take you in. No use staying in the barracks if you can have the support of your family.” Shinken nodded. With numb hands he picked up the literature the Examiner had given him and left.
For a while he just meandered through town; eyes unseeing, his feet carrying him on their own accord down streets he’d walked his entire life. Eventually, he found himself beside the big pond on the outskirts of town. He and his friends had fished and swam there every summer for as long as he could remember, and it wasn’t long until he was sitting on the log near their favorite fishing spot. He tried looking through some of the books, but he could bring himself to invest his attention in them. Instead, he found himself sitting and staring across the mirror-like surface of the water, it’s smooth countenance only broken by the occasional fish jumping to catch a bug on its surface. Minutes turned into hours and the sun began to sink, the fiery orange orb kissing the horizon finally breaking his silent ponderings and signaling that it was time to go home.
His walk home was just as uneventful as his walk to the pond, his mind too wrapped up in the shock of the days events to register anything else. When he entered the house the smell of food washed over him, and he instinctively entered the kitchen. Everyone was sitting at the table as if they’d never left it; if it weren’t for the dishes of still steaming food, Shinken might’ve thought they hadn’t. He took his seat, allowing his mother to fill his plate with an obnoxiously large amount of food. He picked up his fork, and the family silently began eating. Shinken wasn’t particularly hungry, but the familiar act of having dinner was a comfort in and of itself. It was his grandfather that finally broke the silence.
“I sent that letter, should hear back in a week or so…” Shinken thanked him quietly, his eyes staying on his plate. His father spoke next;
“I guess I’ll have to start looking for a new apprentice.” Shinken nodded. A blacksmith needed an apprentice, both to help with menial tasks and to take up the trade when the smith was ready to retire. Shinken wasn’t going to be able to fill that role anymore. “What do you think of the Arisaka boy? Helped us out last summer with that new house we were building?”
”Kenji? He’ll do alright, just needs some time and training. You’ll have to start from the beginning though.” He was one of Shinkens friends from school, and had helped them with making some fittings, nails and hinges the previous year.
“Well… got to do what we’ve got to do, I guess.” The man turned to his wife. “Honey, would you mind going to the school tomorrow and un-enrolling him? No point in him going back; besides, he’ll need the free time for training. See if he can stay in the kendo club until he leaves though, it’ll be good for him to know how to use a sword.”
“Speaking of which…” His grandfather left the table, returning a moment later with a long, thin object wrapped in linen. “This belonged to your great-great-grandfather, my grandfather. He was the last of our line to posses the ability to commune with our ancestors through his wrath seal. Now it belongs to you…” Shinken took the bundle from his grandfather; and, scooting his empty plate aside, laid it on the table and unwrapped it.
Before him lay a sheathed katana, its blade housed in a simple scabbard of wood covered in black leather; its guard was a plain oval disk, stained black to match the scabbard. The long, two-handed hilt was wrapped similarly in black leather, with the black pommel as plain and unadorned as the guard. Shinken drew the blade with reverence, the steel sliding smoothly from the scabbard, its surface polished to a mirror sheen. He cast an expert eye on the grains of the steel, and recognized seven layers of lamination; each layer of steel a different strength, forge welded together to make a metal composite that is neigh unbreakable. The edge, sharp as a razor, was unmarred with age, and smelled of oil.
”Get that THING out of MY kitchen…” Shinkens mother growled, her face contorted in rage. Everyone was taken aback by the fury in her voice, and the tears streaming down her face.
“Honey-?” His father started to say, but he was cut off abruptly.
“Don’t you honey ME! We can’t let this happen! It isn’t fair!”
“We don’t have any choice in the matter, dear. The law-“
”Damn the law! I’m not going to let them take my son, so he can go die somewhere far from home!”
”It’s not a death-sentence, mom.”
“It might as WELL be!” Silence… the tension could be cut with a knife as all eyes turned to Shinken. Meanwhile, his eyes had taken on a rock-hard glare, his gaze burning into his mothers equally blazing gaze. Generally speaking, it was very difficult to anger Shinken; but now his blood was boiling, his heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands shaking uncontrollably as he closed and opened them under the table.
”Is that what you think, mother? You think I’m going to die? That I’m too weak to survive?”
“I-“ His mother started, but Shinken cut her off.
”Well, let me be the first to inform you; everyone dies. I’m going to die, you’re going to die, dad is going to die, and grandpa is going to die. Everyone. Dies. It doesn’t matter how you die, or when. What matters is how you live the life you’re given. I wasn’t planning on this. My hope was to live a simple, quiet life in my home town; make an honest living working with my hands, marry a good woman, have a couple of kids, and die in my own bed surrounded by friends and family. That’s out of the question now. Now, I have to leave the only place I’ve ever called home, face challenges I never could’ve imagined in my worst nightmare. It’s not the life I would’ve chosen, it’s the life that chose me; and I would appreciate it if you could support me…” there they sat, eyes boring into each other for a moment before his mother’s eyes softened, a tear trailing down her cheek.
“Honey… I’m just so scared for you…”
”Well I’m afraid enough for both of us… This is something I have to do. Not just because I’ve been conscripted, but because it’s who I am now. I can’t promise that I’ll outlive you, but I can promise that I’ll never accept defeat, that I’ll never go down without a fight. My family has made me strong; you made me strong. Now I have to become stronger, so I can protect you, and everyone else in this town from who knows what.
“Now, in the meantime, I’ll need some time off from school and work; so I’ll need you to un-enroll me from school, and I’ll help dad find a new apprentice. I’ll be spending most of my time studying and training. Ok?” The whole family nodded in agreement. ”Good…” He stood, pushing his chair in before bringing his plate to the sink. ”I’ll need to get to bed early… I start in the morning.”
Characters General Description:
Name: Nanjirou Shinken
Age: 13
Gender: Male
Sex: Male
Age: 13
Gender: Male
Sex: Male
Height: 5’0”
Weight: 125 lbs
Hair Color and Style: Short-cropped and the color of dark chocolate, his hair is usually parted messily and combed back out of the face; though he has been known to oil and comb it straight back for special occasions.
Eye Color: A warm light-brown often described as the color of aged hickory.
Physique: Broad-shouldered and thick-waisted with muscularly developed arms and legs, the only good way to describe him in one word is “stocky.”
Weight: 125 lbs
Hair Color and Style: Short-cropped and the color of dark chocolate, his hair is usually parted messily and combed back out of the face; though he has been known to oil and comb it straight back for special occasions.
Eye Color: A warm light-brown often described as the color of aged hickory.
Physique: Broad-shouldered and thick-waisted with muscularly developed arms and legs, the only good way to describe him in one word is “stocky.”
Personality: Hardworking and straight-laced, Shinken has been described as “sickeningly responsible” by his small group of friends. When he’s not studying hard at school, he can be found working in his fathers smithy, or with his face buried in a fantasy novel. Honest, but tactful, he knows when to keep his mouth shut and when to speak up. Knowing that being courageous and being reckless are two completely different traits, he’s never been known to seek danger; but keeps a cool and level head while under stress or in an emergency situation.
Religious and Political Views: Having been raised in a relatively small Earth Country town, he was never overtly exposed to religion; the townsfolk favoring the Gods of Logic and Reason over the Deities of Superstition and Make-Believe. However, his grandfather still clings to the ancestor worship of his clan. Also, being only a young teenager, he hasn’t yet formed an opinion on political or social policies other than pondering the grumbles of the adults in the village about the government and how it’s run.
Religious and Political Views: Having been raised in a relatively small Earth Country town, he was never overtly exposed to religion; the townsfolk favoring the Gods of Logic and Reason over the Deities of Superstition and Make-Believe. However, his grandfather still clings to the ancestor worship of his clan. Also, being only a young teenager, he hasn’t yet formed an opinion on political or social policies other than pondering the grumbles of the adults in the village about the government and how it’s run.
CHAPTER I
The first thing Shinken noticed was the warm, tingling sensation filling his vision that was gradually growing from uncomfortable to downright painful. He turned over, reaching out with a sleep-numbed hand and groggily pulling the blanket over his face with a grunt. As he lay in his newfound darkness, his other senses began to kick in: the obnoxiously joyous chirping of dozens of birds in the tree outside his bedroom window; the stink of his morning-breath, now trapped by the blanket he had used as a refuge from the suns unyielding rays; the sound of his mother and father walking down the stairs and making their way to the kitchen. Soon, the pocket of air beneath the blanket became overwhelmingly stuffy as the boy filled it with carbon dioxide. With a groan of resignation, Shinken threw the covers off of his face and took in a deep breath of fresh air, squinting his eyes hard against the unwelcome light of dawn. Another groan escaped his throat as he sat up, yawning widely and scratching at his lopsided mess of sleep-mussed hair. Brushing one dark chocolate-colored lock from his face and kicking the covers off the rest of his body, he revealed his sleep attire (or, more accurately, lack thereof) of red and white striped boxers. Slowly and deliberately, he stretched every muscle in his body starting from his outer extremities and working his way in, finishing with some rather satisfying popping and cracking as he twisted his back and neck. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stepped down onto the hardwood floor with a creak. Struggling half-blind from eyes still unwilling to open fully, Shinken pulled on a pair of black loose athletic shorts and a white sleeveless shirt (his standard at-home attire), and meandered downstairs for breakfast.
Shinken was not a “morning person”…
His bare feet shuffled across the floor and down the steps, the wood worn smooth from years of treading feet. The house had been built by his grandfather and father back when they had first moved to the village. Shinken’s father had been about his age then (twelve or thirteen… I don’t remember. Anyhow, Shinken is thirteen). The local stonemason, carpenter, and glassmaker had all arranged a mutually-beneficial deal with his grandfather, who was a blacksmith, and had helped in the construction of the house and the subsequent attached smithy. As such, everything in the house, from the hinges on the doors to the furniture and the stone the walls were constructed of, was strong and reliable in a way that only hand-crafted work can be. Shinken had been told that the place used to be sparsely decorated, with only his grandfathers shrine to his ancestors as any form of ornamentation. When Shinken’s father married, his mother had added all the womanly touches that made the house a home; pictures, nick-nacks, throw rugs and the like. Their subtle beauty was lost on Shinken as he blindly made his way to the kitchen in a way only someone who has lived in a place all their life can do.
The smell of eggs and bacon frying and bread toasting made Shinken’s mouth water, but more important was the steaming mug of black coffee sitting on the table in front of his seat. Thumping down into his seat, he blindly pawed for the mug, grasping it firmly and bringing the rim expertly to his lips and taking a long sip. SIGH
“Good morning, honey!” Shinken’s mother WAS a morning person, much to the chagrin of her son and husband. All he got from his dad was a satisfied grunt from behind the newspaper he was reading.
”’Morning…” He said groggily, blowing across the top of the steaming liquid to cool it before chugging more than half of the contents of the mug in one swallow. The sound of his mother setting the coffeepot and their breakfast on the table snapped his eyes open. While his mother sat and joined the pair for breakfast, the two males at the table dug into their food. Simultaneously, they turned their plates so their scrambled eggs were closest to them, and began cutting them into even smaller pieces with the same rocking motion of arms and forks before digging in.
“I’ve got to go to the market this morning, we’re almost out of milk and flour.” Shinken’s mother said in her chipper, matter-of-fact voice. All she got from the two men in her life were grunts of acknowledgement as they finished their eggs, turned their plates counterclockwise, and began working diligently on their bacon. The middle-aged woman smiled, the lines on her face becoming clearer. She’d married an amazing man; strong, dependable, caring, and surprisingly gentle. Together, they had made their son; but he was the spitting image of his father. She could see that same determination in his eyes, the same inner strength and unwavering will to do what was right. As they turned their plates counterclockwise one more time to begin eating their toast, she noticed the vague shape of a black ring through the center of her sons white undershirt. She frowned at that. Her husband’s father had insisted that a Shaman from the Nanjirou clan place their clan seal on his chest at birth. Shinken’s father and grandfather both bore similar seals; fist-sized rings of ancient kanji and other symbols she didn’t recognize. She had been raised her entire life in a village that believed only the fools who didn’t have the ability to understand science and math believed in such things as ancestor worship and deities. In the end, she had conceded. Her husband had said the seals were mostly ceremonial, as no one in their family had been able to channel the power of their ancestors for generations. Now her son had what amounted to a cool looking, fist sized tattoo over his heart. It had made him pretty popular at school when he was getting dressed for gym class; and he needed all the help he could get to make friends. She loved her son, but sometimes she swore he spent more time face-first in a book than he ought to.
As they finished their toast, the two stood up and placed their plates and mugs in the sink. Her husband muttered something about having to get to work, her son about having to get ready for school. Then they kissed her on the cheek, thanked her for breakfast, and headed upstairs. They even had the same, heavy-footed swagger in their walk. She smiled as she stood up, washed the dishes, and went upstairs to get ready to go to the market.
-.-.-.-
-.-.-.-
-.-.-.-
Several hours later, Shinken was sitting in math class, staring at the clock on the wall. He’d already finished his equations and turned them in, but the teacher wouldn’t let him read the book he had tucked in his bag. ’Pompous ass…’ He thought, shooting a glare at the fat balding man sitting behind the desk at the front of the class struggling through a Sudoku. The man had called a parent-teacher conference last week because Shinken had been “goofing off” in class. He was the only adult Shinken knew who considered reading classic literature after finishing his class work “goofing off.” The only solace Shinken had was that classes ended three hours early today. Granted, the reason was almost as torturous as math class. Every year, the government sent Shinobi from Iwagakure to test all the youth for chakra sensitivity and potential. It meant that you got to stand in line with the rest of the school for a couple of hours while waiting to meet the tester who, by all accounts, used some sort of magic to tell whether or not you should be a shinobi. No one from their town had ever been selected, but it was an excuse to get out of class early and socialize… or sit there quietly and read while everyone else socializes around you and ignores your existence. Either way, it didn’t matter to him.
The bell finally rang, and the class began packing up their things and heading down to the gymnasium. The students had to sit with their classmates for the duration of the waiting period, and of course Shinken’s friends had been assigned to the class two doors down the hall from him, preventing them from sitting next to each other at the edges of their respective groups. With a resigned sigh, he followed his class representative up the bleachers and past his friends, taking a seat near the top so he could lean against the back wall while he read. After an obnoxiously long wait, during which Shinken not only finished the book he brought, but also completed all the homework his teachers had given him for over the weekend, his name was finally called. Quickly packing up his stuff, Shinken made his way down the stairs and across the gymnasium floor to the boys locker room.
The place smelled of stale sweat and bleach trying its hardest to cover up the latter; he hated the locker room. When he was younger, his classmates had made a big deal about his Nanjirou seal. A vast majority thought it was cool, though the kids who he was already friends with didn’t make a big deal about it. There were a few (and every school has a few of these) who took it as a challenge. It only took one fool to discover that being an apprentice blacksmith made one uncommonly strong; and, while his principle stood her ground on the schools zero-tolerance for violence policy, during his suspension his parents praised him for defending himself and gave him free reign at a book store with triple his normal allowance.
Standing in the middle of the locker room were three people; the school principle, the school guidance counselor, and the Shinobi examiner.
“Nanjirou Shinken…?” His principle asked, his nasally voice matching perfectly with his tweed suit. Shinken had never liked the man, and had avoided him as much as humanly possible while at school. The counselor took one look at Shinken and nodded.
“Yep; come on over here, Nanjirou.” The counselor said, pointing at an “X” marked on the floor with black tape. He didn’t particularly enjoy the company of the counselor either; the man was condescending, treating everyone in the school (regardless of their age or maturity level) like a child half their age. Silently, Shinken obeyed, knowing it would only take a few minutes for the Shinobi to look him over and dismiss him. The ninja was holding a clipboard and wearing what appeared to be some sort of torso body armor and dark grey fatigues; but what was most intriguing was the mans eyes. They were a pale opalescent white that seemed to pierce through ones soul. When the man spoke, his voice was soft and smooth.
“Nanjirou? The Samurai Clan?”
”Yes, sir.”
“If I recall correctly, your previous examinations came back negative. Well, this will be the last year you have to undergo the exam. Such a shame your ancestors didn’t bless you with their gifts.” Shinken rolled his eyes at that. He was just as skeptical about anything supernatural as his mother and the rest of the people in the village besides his grandfather. The shinobi smirked at his attitude before retorting smugly. “Well, it’s no wonder… Let’s get this over with then.” That said, the man closed his eyes and focused for a moment, then opened them wide: “Byakugan…” He whispered reverently, the veins around his eyes bulging from his face. He passed what was seemingly a fleeting glance over Shinkens body from head to foot; but then his eyes darted back up to his chest and lingered for a long moment on his Wrath Seal before his eyes returned to normal. “Alright, we’re finished. Go ahead and go home.” Shinken bowed and left hurriedly, though he swore he heard the examiner say “Interesting…”
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The heat thrown from the forge was painfully hot, so hot that the sparks that flew from the steel as Shinken struck it felt cool by comparison when they landed on his bare arms. There was no other choice when the heat was this intense, the sleeves of his white linen work shirt were rolled up; sweat trickled down his forearms, little white scars from the innumerable sparks pockmarked his flesh. While he usually ended up working the bellows and the tongs or mounting the heads of tools onto the hafts, his father would craft the pieces. It was only recently that his father trusted him with shaping the metal as well, which left him free to help more around the front of the shop, where his grandfather or mother usually took care of the register. Today he was shaping a new plow blade for a local farmer when his father was called into the house by his mother, something about having a visitor. As Shinken quenched the steel with an eruption of steam and a hiss, his mother came in through the back door.
“Honey, could you come to the kitchen please? There’s someone here to see you.” Her voice sounded shaky, and her face was pale. Shinken’s eyes narrowed in concern as his stomach clenched with nerves.
”Sure thing, mom. I’ll be right there.” He pulled the plow blade from the water and dried it quickly before removing his gloves and tucking them into his apron pocked, hanging it on a peg by the back door before heading in.
The back door to the smithy was also the back door to the kitchen, and there were four people at the kitchen table: his mother, his father, his grandfather, and the shinobi examiner from the school. ”Who’s watching the store?”
“We closed early. There’s something we need to discuss.” His father said, wringing his calloused hands. Shinken had never seen his father so anxious before, his eyes darting from one face to the next, he pulled out his chair at the table and sat.
”What’s going on?”
The Shinobi Examiner introduced himself, “My name is Jounin Ichigo. I performed your chakra sensitivity exam earlier today.” Shinken nodded. “Over the last few years, your tests came back negative for chakra sensitivity and production; but your test today was positive for minute amounts of chakra, generally around the area your seal was placed and radiating outward from there. Looks like your ancestors think you have some potential after all.” The man smirked in what Shinken was sure he thought was sarcastically funny.
”What does that mean?”
“It means that you have the potential to become a shinobi of Iwagakure; and, in accordance with the laws of Earth Country, you are hereby drafted into the Shinobi Academy.”
“You’re going to be an honorable worrier of the Nanjirou clan,” Shinken’s grandfather said proudly, clasping a gnarled hand on his grandsons shoulder. Shinken could only sit there in shocked silence while his mother sobbed into a handkerchief. “Just like your great-great-grandfather. You’ve also got a few cousins that are shinobi. I am so very proud of you.”
Shinken sat in silence for a few moments while everyone stared at him. His entire life flashed before his eyes, along with all the plans he had been making for the future; taking over the smithy one day, getting married and raising a small family, passing on his trade to his own son… None of that mattered now. His road in life had been chosen for him, but it was up to him to make his own path within the borders he was given. A quote from his favorite band came to mind; ’We draw our own designs, but fortune has to make that frame.’ He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair.
”Well… when do I start?”
“I’ll be continuing my testing route throughout the rest of the country; those who have been selected for service will stay with their families until I finish my route. On my way back to Iwagakure, I’ll stop by and pick up each of the Future Shinobi from their homes and escort them to the Village. Your pickup date, barring that there aren’t any more suitable candidates, should be forty-seven days from today. We’ll meet the night before to make sure you have everything you need, then we’ll leave the next day and travel to the Capitol via railroad. If there are any changes to the schedule, I’ll send a letter in advance with updated information.” He reached down and unzipped a backpack that Shinken had just noticed was sitting beside the Examiners chair on the floor, and removed three paperback booklets; each only a few inches tall and wide, and no more than an inch thick. He handed them across the table to the boy, who took them silently. “You’re going to need to have read these by the time I return for you.”
“One is a basic physical training regimen complete with drawings and descriptions of the various exercises you’ll need to begin doing in order improve your physical condition before entering the academy. There are a few different exercise routine schedules based on how long you’ll have before entering the Academy. I suggest using the “30 day” schedule, and just continuing on for the two weeks after that schedule ends. The second covers some of the basic information you’ll need to know; rank structure, the phonetic alphabet, military time, etcetera. Read it thoroughly. I will test you and the other recruits while we’re en route to the Village. The third is a descriptor of village culture and religion. I know most people outside the village are more… secular… in their views on the divines, but they are a major part of our way of life. If you have an opinion on the matter, I’d whole-heartedly suggest you keep it to yourself. This third book should help ease the culture-shock of transitioning from civilian to village life. Do you have any questions?”
Shinken shook his head. ”No, sir.”
“Good. I’ve got a tight schedule to keep, and I’m sure you have much to discuss; I’ll go ahead and show myself out.” The family nodded as the Jounin rose, bowed, and left. The sound of the door closing was solid and final, seemingly threatening them to keep their silence. Minutes passed without a word. All eyes were on Shinken, while his eyes remained fixed on the table. After what felt like an eternity, the boy rose.
”Well… Got plenty of work in the shop to do… Should get back to it…”
“Don’t worry about it, son.” His father said, standing as well. “You go ahead and take the rest of the day off; I’ll finish up in the shop. Dear,” He turned to his wife. “could you get started on making dinner? Your chicken and dumplings with white cheddar biscuits would be nice…” It was Shinkens favorite dish, and everyone knew it.
“Y-yes, honey; and… and a blueberry cobbler for dessert,” His mother said, choking back sobs and quickly wiping a tear from her eye with her apron before standing and digging out pots and pans a little more loudly than was necessary.
“Why don’t you go for a walk, my boy; maybe read some of those books there? A little fresh air will do you some good.” His grandfather smiled warmly, patting him on the back as he rose. “I’ve got some letters to write; see if one of our cousins in the Village will take you in. No use staying in the barracks if you can have the support of your family.” Shinken nodded. With numb hands he picked up the literature the Examiner had given him and left.
For a while he just meandered through town; eyes unseeing, his feet carrying him on their own accord down streets he’d walked his entire life. Eventually, he found himself beside the big pond on the outskirts of town. He and his friends had fished and swam there every summer for as long as he could remember, and it wasn’t long until he was sitting on the log near their favorite fishing spot. He tried looking through some of the books, but he could bring himself to invest his attention in them. Instead, he found himself sitting and staring across the mirror-like surface of the water, it’s smooth countenance only broken by the occasional fish jumping to catch a bug on its surface. Minutes turned into hours and the sun began to sink, the fiery orange orb kissing the horizon finally breaking his silent ponderings and signaling that it was time to go home.
His walk home was just as uneventful as his walk to the pond, his mind too wrapped up in the shock of the days events to register anything else. When he entered the house the smell of food washed over him, and he instinctively entered the kitchen. Everyone was sitting at the table as if they’d never left it; if it weren’t for the dishes of still steaming food, Shinken might’ve thought they hadn’t. He took his seat, allowing his mother to fill his plate with an obnoxiously large amount of food. He picked up his fork, and the family silently began eating. Shinken wasn’t particularly hungry, but the familiar act of having dinner was a comfort in and of itself. It was his grandfather that finally broke the silence.
“I sent that letter, should hear back in a week or so…” Shinken thanked him quietly, his eyes staying on his plate. His father spoke next;
“I guess I’ll have to start looking for a new apprentice.” Shinken nodded. A blacksmith needed an apprentice, both to help with menial tasks and to take up the trade when the smith was ready to retire. Shinken wasn’t going to be able to fill that role anymore. “What do you think of the Arisaka boy? Helped us out last summer with that new house we were building?”
”Kenji? He’ll do alright, just needs some time and training. You’ll have to start from the beginning though.” He was one of Shinkens friends from school, and had helped them with making some fittings, nails and hinges the previous year.
“Well… got to do what we’ve got to do, I guess.” The man turned to his wife. “Honey, would you mind going to the school tomorrow and un-enrolling him? No point in him going back; besides, he’ll need the free time for training. See if he can stay in the kendo club until he leaves though, it’ll be good for him to know how to use a sword.”
“Speaking of which…” His grandfather left the table, returning a moment later with a long, thin object wrapped in linen. “This belonged to your great-great-grandfather, my grandfather. He was the last of our line to posses the ability to commune with our ancestors through his wrath seal. Now it belongs to you…” Shinken took the bundle from his grandfather; and, scooting his empty plate aside, laid it on the table and unwrapped it.
Before him lay a sheathed katana, its blade housed in a simple scabbard of wood covered in black leather; its guard was a plain oval disk, stained black to match the scabbard. The long, two-handed hilt was wrapped similarly in black leather, with the black pommel as plain and unadorned as the guard. Shinken drew the blade with reverence, the steel sliding smoothly from the scabbard, its surface polished to a mirror sheen. He cast an expert eye on the grains of the steel, and recognized seven layers of lamination; each layer of steel a different strength, forge welded together to make a metal composite that is neigh unbreakable. The edge, sharp as a razor, was unmarred with age, and smelled of oil.
”Get that THING out of MY kitchen…” Shinkens mother growled, her face contorted in rage. Everyone was taken aback by the fury in her voice, and the tears streaming down her face.
“Honey-?” His father started to say, but he was cut off abruptly.
“Don’t you honey ME! We can’t let this happen! It isn’t fair!”
“We don’t have any choice in the matter, dear. The law-“
”Damn the law! I’m not going to let them take my son, so he can go die somewhere far from home!”
”It’s not a death-sentence, mom.”
“It might as WELL be!” Silence… the tension could be cut with a knife as all eyes turned to Shinken. Meanwhile, his eyes had taken on a rock-hard glare, his gaze burning into his mothers equally blazing gaze. Generally speaking, it was very difficult to anger Shinken; but now his blood was boiling, his heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands shaking uncontrollably as he closed and opened them under the table.
”Is that what you think, mother? You think I’m going to die? That I’m too weak to survive?”
“I-“ His mother started, but Shinken cut her off.
”Well, let me be the first to inform you; everyone dies. I’m going to die, you’re going to die, dad is going to die, and grandpa is going to die. Everyone. Dies. It doesn’t matter how you die, or when. What matters is how you live the life you’re given. I wasn’t planning on this. My hope was to live a simple, quiet life in my home town; make an honest living working with my hands, marry a good woman, have a couple of kids, and die in my own bed surrounded by friends and family. That’s out of the question now. Now, I have to leave the only place I’ve ever called home, face challenges I never could’ve imagined in my worst nightmare. It’s not the life I would’ve chosen, it’s the life that chose me; and I would appreciate it if you could support me…” there they sat, eyes boring into each other for a moment before his mother’s eyes softened, a tear trailing down her cheek.
“Honey… I’m just so scared for you…”
”Well I’m afraid enough for both of us… This is something I have to do. Not just because I’ve been conscripted, but because it’s who I am now. I can’t promise that I’ll outlive you, but I can promise that I’ll never accept defeat, that I’ll never go down without a fight. My family has made me strong; you made me strong. Now I have to become stronger, so I can protect you, and everyone else in this town from who knows what.
“Now, in the meantime, I’ll need some time off from school and work; so I’ll need you to un-enroll me from school, and I’ll help dad find a new apprentice. I’ll be spending most of my time studying and training. Ok?” The whole family nodded in agreement. ”Good…” He stood, pushing his chair in before bringing his plate to the sink. ”I’ll need to get to bed early… I start in the morning.”