RP for bloodline - Aburame
A cold, humid night, rather unusual for the hidden village beneath the desert. The bright beam of lunar light from the moon and the twinkle of the stars in the sky are blotted by clouds. The Diamond Maelstrom is constantly churning, ever grinding the fine grains of the desert even finer, producing the softest yet sharpest flour of razor thin grains capable of slicing anything to shreds within a very short amount of time. Yet despite the horrid possible outcomes of daring this dangerous path, a young woman with a bundle in her arms pressed close to her chest and a hooded robe to protect against the hostile environment takes the chance of crossing the threshold of her village to proceed with the ancient ritual of her ancestors. Contrary to what one would believe of such harsh conditions, one would be able to find insects even out here, although most of them preferred the damp, secluded regions of the caves with a hundred different entrances throughout the Maelstrom. One of the many caves which our heroine presumptive locates and seeks shelter in. It’s no coincidence that she has chosen this particular cave; She can feel the myriad of life reverberating within the confines of the walls of bedrock and sand, and she knows instantly that she has finally come home.
Her thoughts runs back to her grandfather, whom used to take her running through the woods, teaching her the various signs and ways of the green atmosphere of the forests of the Fire country. That time is long gone, of course, her grandfather is passed away in what seems like a life time ago. He had taught her everything she had known, ranging from tracking wild deer to controlling the miniature insectoids within her very own flesh. At least one of his teachings had survived her transition to the more dried up part of the world. She’s closing in now, she can sense them, they echo to the creatures inhabiting her body, which replies, constantly pulling her towards the far end of the cave. She can’t see it, of course. It’s night, it’s further into the cave, deep beneath the sand dunes above, but her senses are as strong as ever, enhanced even, by the parasitic destruction bugs which feeds of her chakra. The kin is calling out to each other, and the replies are getting stronger, clearer. Finally she’s there. She can tell for sure, not only by sensory abilities but by sound alone. Even the very sand beneath her feet is so moist she can tell this is the right place. It has to be. Everything indicates this.
The bundle is laid upon a mound in the corner of the cave, carefully, as a precious heirloom, something fragile that might break upon the very touch of the sands itself. A slight sniffle can be detected from the coil of cloth, and a wail following reveals the nature of its content; Her first born, an infantile son. According to her family’s tradition, he has to be offered to a colony of the destruction bugs within a week of his birth; Luckily, she was able to locate one within the vicinity of her newly appointed home town. The bundle wiggles ever so slightly, indicating that the living human being within has come to wake up and discover his whereabouts, even though he is too young to fathom the consequences of his mother’s actions. The sound of the bugs slowly entering his flesh and finding a new habitat gave her immense comfort; She had carried out the dying wish of her grandfather and the legacy of her bloodline would continue through him. The only sad part about it all was that being from a different country, she had to hide this part of herself. At least for now. Another consequence of this was that she had no possible option to teach her son about his heritage. Hopefully, he’d discover it himself when he grew of age.
The time has flown by. Twelve years has passed since the night in the Maelstrom, in the cave, in the insect nest. The boy has started the stage of growth leading him to become a young man, and his shinobi training is proceeding as it should. One night, he wakes up, drenched in sweat, remembering shards of a horrible nightmare of a small infant in a cave and thousands of insects feasting on him, only to find his entire body covered in the very same insects he feared in his dream. A shattering scream cuts from his lungs and into the night, and his mother comes rushing into the room to save her first born. As she witnesses the event unfolding before her, a smile of satisfaction conquers the worries and anxieties on her face, because she knows now; He has finally awoken, truly.
WC: 809
