Private Honing the Craft

[Takahashi Aki]

Aki’s eyes narrowed as he looked into the massive industrial pot. He watched as the water continued to boil the leathers he had cured and had recently acquired. He had bought the leather from the Rangers who he commissioned to go on a hunt for him. Nothing went to waste in terms of what was hunted. The deceased creature was carved up for meat, organs went to the medics. Aki was a bit different from the usual Journeymen. He worked leather into his metalwork. It made for better flexibility and for somewhat slightly less heavy armour. In the line of work that Aki was bound for, he needed to be fast and light on his feet. He was certainly not the Master Craft artisan that his father. Time passed and Aki would grab a pair of tongs to pull out the boiled leathers. He would put it onto the work bench. Aki’s work space was an open space. He had yet to taken private quarters for his work. Aki preferred a more open space work spot. At the very least he was able to take advice from people who passed him by as he worked.

While he waited for the leathers to cool down he would go back to working on metallic ringlets. There was a lot of shift work as worked monotonously on it. This was one of the more boring parts of making the armour but if he got it done correctly then it would make things quite easier in the later stages. He finished the ringlets without breaking a sweat. By this time the boiled leathers were still hot, but cooling. It would take a bit more time before he could begin attaching the ringlets. During this time Aki would take a break. He would wipe the sweat from his brow and exhale. The key to becoming a Master Craft artisan was through practice and hard work. Yes sometimes repeating the same things hundreds of time over could get boring, but that was how one honed their craft.

 

[Jintou]

This place has the power to inspire curiosity in every new street urchin who has sworn the code to serve the Hidden Sand. It is the answer to a higher calling, or at least a better lifestyle, or purpose, that pulls apprentice shinobi into The Orders. To choose and improve one’s craft was to better instrumentalize themselves: both as a shinobi and the person behind the oaths, tempered steel, and magic. They are places that have distinct sounds of purpose in motion— in this case, the sound of bubbling— amidst a sea of silence like a ship sailing calm seas at night.

Of course, Jintou was impressed as he made his way through the aptly named Hall of Hammers. This was his first time entering the wide array of chambers and he would have gotten lost among it all if not for the absolute order and structure to its layout. Every new foray into the locales of the Village Hidden in the Sand was like an adventure to the boy who had come from the wilds beyond the bulwark. The acts of forging and smithing weren’t unknown to him, of course, but whatever his family made were end products with parts sourced from merchants. It was likely only the wooden bident clutched in his left hand like a walking stick that proved to be a product of custom make. Alas, it was not the way of nomads to reside within these large halls. Perhaps this was truly the design behind his father’s intentions to send Jintou into the Hidden Sand; to learn of advancements that their tribe could utilize in their many futures. It seemed as if every facet of Jintou’s young life seemed to roll like a ball on a track— a predetermined course that always led back to Shinsou, Patron Father of House Oban.

It was actually one of his academy instructors who bade Jintou to seek the Hall of Hammers. In preparation for melee combat training, Jintou was given the quest to outfit himself with some efficient defensive equipment. Apparently, his haboob cloak, which was aptly named for its usage in weathering sandstorms, was not considered armor for a shinobi in combat. So on came Jintou, wide-eyed and with a slow stalk as he entered the craftsman’s chamber. His form was diminutive at best, clearly lacking the build of a seasoned shinobi. Sandy blonde curls made a kinked mop of hair over his crown, and his complexion was a toasty caramel hue. He looked to the son of Sousuke with an estranged gaze, squinting his diamond-like pupils as he made sense of who he saw. This man was another one in a metal costume like Doctor Kurohane.
“Umm...” Jintou broke the silence with a dull sound. “Hi. I was the kid who submitted an inquiry about a requisition? My name is Jintou and I don’t know much about crafting.”
Having called for Aki’s attention with a salutation, Jintou came forth and peered into the stew of leathers. “I was told to seek out someone by the name of Aki… Would that be you, sir?” Then the apprentice-to-be unclasped his satchel and revealed a crumpled paper bag with something weighty within and held it out for Aki to take. “I was told to bring you this— it should prove to make the work worth your time, right?”

-- Jintou has entered the thread and has provided a gift.
-- What's in the bag, Aki? The contents are up to you.

 

[Takahashi Aki]

Aki finished his break with an interruption, but it was of the good sort. He would hear the greeting that Jintou would produce. Aki would look over to him and listen intently. Jintou would introduce himself as not knowing anything much about crafting. Fine. That was fine, everyone had to start somewhere in this. Aki was once a novice. Jintou would inquire then if he was indeed Aki. The young man would nod his head and then he would speak. “Yes. I am indeed Aki.” He would confirm his identity. He was then offered a bag. He would look at the bag curiously. Jintou would then speak up to state that the contents within the bag would make the work worth his time. Aki would put the bag on his work table. He would remove his helmet. His eyes would narrow at the bag. Usually people who spoke like this were well connected, that or they were someone who actually wanted to challenge the artisan.

Aki would open the bag and take out the contents. The first item he took out was a box he would open the box revealing grey and black flecks “Meteorite shards.” He would then pull out cleaned but untreated carapace. “Cave Crawler Carapace.” He would knock his fist against the hardened carapace. “Belly section.” He would take hold of the carapace with both hands he would then slowly begin to bend the carapace. “Very clean. Someone took a little too much pleasure in this kill.” Aki would then remove a few larger talons and claws from the bag. He would rub the back of his neck. He considered the material he was being given carefully. “I can’t quite tell right now if I’m being insulted, or if Doctor Kurohane just wants to see how much he can push the pending legal investigation button. Course if I ask for an internal affairs investigation he’ll just make it look like he’s clean.”

Aki would rub his temples as he was considering the situation. “The alternative is that this is a peace offering… and he wants to actually challenge me.” Aki would quietly consider his options. He would curiously look over to Jintou. “Alright. So aside from trying to figure out motive, I take it you’re a student of the good doctor. Would you like a breast plate, a half plate, greaves?” Aki would inquire. He would next then state the obvious next. “ I will need your measures. Unfortunately I am not quite as good as my father when it comes to figuring out measurements of people.” Next Aki would let out a weak laugh. This was going to be awkward next if the person wasn’t well humored or part of some sort of lobby group. “Eh… heh. I hope you’re fine with wearing the flesh of a giant dead insect. I mean some people are … touchy when it comes to what they wear. There was that ‘Fur-is-Murder’ group a while back… and then they were awkwardly killed by mutant wild life.” Life had this funny thing of doing ironic things at time. Some day he expected Lord Raizo to come in some day wearing Akkuma’s skull for a hat and asking him directly ‘do you like my new hat?’, given the debacle that was the meeting in the Great General Assembly. Aki would then point at Jintou upon having a momentary lapse in memory, “You were the kid that sneezed at the General Assembly. Hah. Alright.”

 

[Jintou]

There were expectations that came along with the armored shell encasing this Aki fellow. When judging the Book of Aki by it’s cover, Jintou expected to find the story of a man who sacrificed his humanity to better embrace his brilliance and hubris. If we can be more on the nose— Jintou expected to meet another man whose soul was ground into an algorithm like Doctor Kurohane, but looks were indeed deceiving. But, most hearts will soften even the slightest when the brain releases dopamine and serotonin; the hidden components among the gifts Aki pulled out of the bag.

At the request of the original owner, Jintou had not peeked into the bag at any point. He thought it would be some test of obedience— some magical bag that would plunge the contents into some endless void if Jintou peered inside. If the doctor was feeling particularly exploitive they might have instead placed the bones of the last pupil who failed their chemical trial. It wouldn’t even be a vindictive motion, just some filler to make the bag feel weighty and clack when shaken. Aki only proved to worsen Jintou’s suspicions when hill mulled over his own. Clearly; the unscrupulous ways of Doctor Kurohane were well known to Aki Takahashi.

In actuality, both the craftsman and his client seemed presently surprised when the bag was opened. It was an unexpected gesture: be that kindness towards a pupil or the exchange rate to employ Aki’s services, to which the young Jintou hardly fathomed the cost. Whatever it was, the sound of Aki’s reaction made it seem valuable.

“Umm, I don’t know my measurements, sir,” Jintou replied at the insistence of the craftsman. “My mothers used to sew all of my clothing too large so I could grow into them because they said I grow like a bean sprout.” While a comparison of a child to a mung bean likely sounded obtuse to an overtly rational mind, Jintou didn’t dwell on the moment for long. He unbound the knot which kept his cloak in place; as he swept it around to one side some dust was wrestled free. Beneath the robe was a bright blue tunic that was in fair condition, though it seemed grown into, as planned by his three mothers.

Submitting for the measurement, Jintou raised his arms into a T pose but put them back to rest if Aki found a change of plans. After all, as the helmed craftsmen mentioned the idea of Jintou donning the hide of a cave crawler, the boy had a skeptical expression souring his face. “I don’t have anything personal against chitin or leather sir— but I do have a hard time breathing in a chase if I’m wearing a lot. “Also, bug armor sounds heavy. My Pathfinder— or um, uncle, always says that a heavy shield is the first thing you should leave behind when a ridgeback has your scent. “That’s because—”
Jintou’s long-winded explanation trailed off as Aki pivoted forwards in their conversation, always seeming to think several paces ahead. Perhaps it was due to his low point of view within the war room, or his attention was stolen by the many loudmouths who fed on the limelight, but Jintou didn’t recall Aki’s presence at the meeting. But of course, everyone had a laugh at Jintou’s blunderous sneeze.
“Yes, that was me” he admitted, only slightly embarrassed. “I think the challenge of what’s ahead of the hidden sand might be some of the inspiration for me needing better protection, though I’m not sure what good it’ll do me. I’ve always been pretty worthless when my siblings started sparring. They always made me square up with my sister and said it was for her sake, but I swear she was even tougher than my brothers.” It was his sister’s famous chokeholds and dirt sandwiches that had Jintou hiding from countless sparring sessions. Instead, he diverted much of his valuable youth learning about plant life from his elder, Ko'ona. Jintou shuddered at the thought of trying to defend against his towering big sister, even after commencing his training at the academy.

 

[Takahashi Aki]

Aki listened to Jintou speak of how his mothers made his clothing for him. It was a wholesome motherly gesture. Aki’s experience with his own mother were wholesome, of course the woman who he identified as his mother was not his true mother. Aki had fond memories of his mother fixing his coat which was torn a few times when he was a kid. When Jintou opened up and held out his arms for measurements he would reach for a tape measure and measure Jintou’s proportions. "Parents aren't supposed to have a favourite among their children... but can you tell me if you have a favourite mother?" Once he was done he would place the tape measure back on the table. Aki’s eyes would look to the ceiling of the Hall of Hammers as he was trying to do the calculations to figure out how to best make armour for him. During his calculations, he was listening to Jintou explain his uncle’s wise advice. Leaving a heavy shield and running away from a Ridgeback was sometimes the best thing to do. “He’s not wrong. That’s why I use leather in some of my works, mainly due to a weight issue. Chittin isn’t all that bad. I can hollow out quite a bit, which reduces quite a bit of weight. Airblasting it can get messy, but I mean that’s a short term problem. Cleaning it up isn’t hard. It just gets icky and gross.” Aki would take hold of the carapace and slam it against the table with a mighty thud. He would then reach into his tool box and he would remove a series of power drill. He would begin drilling into the carapace. Squelching sounds and juices would begin to drip out of the carapace. As he would do this until each and every power drill either died out violently or broke down terribly. Aki would go through no less than five drills and he would then begin to blast wind jutsus into the holes he made. As he did this there were untold amounts of puss and guts would splash Aki and Jintou. It was surprising given the size of the carapace and the amount that was spewing out. Aki did this with an intense look in his eyes. There was dedication to the task and that dedication was frightful.

Once he was done Aki would disappear for a moment and return with a vacuum he would begin to clean up the mess. Once he was done he pick up the carapace and toss it at Jintou. “Light as a feather.” Aki would then produce a pen light and flicker a red pointer onto various sections of the carapace. “The trick is knowing about the fluid. Now I’m gonna fashion a coat for you. So here’s the trick I’m going to now cut this baby diagonally there and there. Cut it straight there and then we’re gonna have some flaps. Then I’m gonna line it from the inside to give you some pockets. Pockets are very helpful because no one ever really knows what you’ve got in em.” He would make a gesture for Jintou to hand him back the carapace. “This is exciting.” He would smile, a genuine smile. “With this coat I’m gonna have your sister hurt herself for punching you. I can do a roughening layer and layer and add little nitched hooks. If you want that is. I too have an older sister ... who is ... yeah. I get what you’re going through. I don’t train with her, but I get it.”

 

[Jintou]

The haze of a moment spent reflecting crossed over Jintou as he considered Aki’s question. Of course, it was not the first time he had ever been asked which of the three Matron Mothers was his favorite; the question was an occasional font of humor in his home. But for a mere acquaintance to ask— a slight embarrassment came over Jintou in the form of a dour expression and reddening ears. He did consider the question though. Fragmented images of three beautiful, motherly women whose names came with the instant recollection: Sagiri, Emiko, and Juon. Each had their own special way of showing that they cared and some more sternly than others, in a difficult balance often tempered by the other elders. But among the trio, it was perhaps Juon: Jintou’s birth mother, with whom he had the closest bond. It was thanks to Juon that Jintou had all of the features he appreciated about himself when gazing in a mirror or still pool: softened edges that prevented him from looking like a carbon copy of his father, Shinsou. If Jintou had looked any more like his father, his old man would have had a winnable copyright suit on his hands. But it was the command of his venerable Patron Father that his children “honor their mothers all the same”— and so, it was a faux pas to actually choose favorites.
Leading with some forced laughter, Jintou answered with a deflection, stating that, “If my house elder counts, then it definitely has to be Ko’ona; she's the best because she’s our Grandmother.” It was an awful joke but to Jintou it served its purpose.

The entire process would have been unsightly to those unaccustomed to the physicality of working with live carcasses, but it was clear that both the craftsmen and his client were. Jintou merely stood aside watching, almost monolithic in his standstill until some goop shot out at him.
In actuality, it was customary to create an incision where the carapace was weak and remove the innards by hand or with a hooked tool. To do this first meant a cleaner process— at a minimum, it meant not having to wipe gore off your face. It was like cleaning a crab before eating its delectable meat, though Jintou had his doubts that Aki had ever ventured to the Mizumi Coast, where such pleasure could be found. Wiping a long string of intestine off his chest, Jintou commented, “that was intense,” but otherwise kept his critique to himself. In fact, Jintou forged a smile, surely appreciating Aki’s level of interest in what he was doing. Jintou followed along with Aki’s explanation, hardly comprehending the purpose behind every spoken decision but interested nonetheless.

Aki of Clan Takahashi was a different kind of shinobi by Jintou’s estimate: less critical and machine-like than Doctor Kurohane, with a real love for what he did: joy in his craft. He was also a far cry from a warrior type like big bro Kaen, but not in a bad way. It was refreshing to know shinobi like this Aki fellow existed.
“Yeah, this IS exciting” Jintou echoed earnestly. “Maybe if I’m lucky she’ll spare me from the beatdowns in the future, because this sure looks intimidating… well, save for the color.” Something strange was happening as Aki worked. It seemed as if the cave crawler must have ingested copious amounts of something with distinctly blue dying effect, as the gelatinous liquid was had spewed in a bright shade of cobalt that was tinting the entire chitin the more Aki worked it. “At least the blue is kind of charming... isn’t it?”

 

[Takahashi Aki]

Aki looked at the blue for a moment, his facial expression turned to that of a very large quad peddle animal caught in the headlights of a train or other mechanized vehicle. The moment seemed like it would last forever. After what seemed to be two lifetimes of watching nothing but watching boiling water Aki’s face would twitch. He would grit his teeth and it would very much seem like the young man was going to erupt in a possibly heretical, violent and loud profanity. He would then blink twice and have a shutdown of sorts. He would exhale. “Right. Yes. Well.” He would pause again for a moment before looking down at the chitin carapace. He would pat it, and then pat it again. “I can dye it. I mean at least it is not neon green or … glow in the dark pink.” Aki would say with a deadpan expression. He would look back at the chitin carapace and he would look back to Jintou, “Right so… I can dye it later. Tell me Jintou, what would you like me to dye it?” He would inquire.



After being provided with an answer he could begin to cut the carapace in the manner he had spoken of earlier. He would finish the outer section of the coat. He would put the coat on the work table and then fold it inside out. He would stroke his chin and stare at the inside of the coat. He would then take out mesh and he would begin to work on the pockets sections of the inside of the coat. Aki worked silently with a zeal that was rare to be seen in most men. “Right then. How many pockets do you want this to have? I’m projecting at least four. I can do eight, but then the pockets are going to be significantly smaller which is going to … going to dictate what you can and cannot bring into battle.” Aki offered his commentary. He would continue to work on the first pocket. He would first hook the mesh into the chitin. He would then place on another layer ontop of the mesh. “This is inflammable.” He explained as he finished the layer. “Right so we have three layers, the chitin, the mesh, and the inflammable layer. Adds a little bit of weight, but it certainly beats having your own explosive notes ignite and blowing yourself up.” He would explain in depth. “I’ll sharpen up the front, being the chitin to form the little hooks I spoke of earlier.”

 

[Jintou]

In his moment of crisis, Aki’s outrage was comparable to a painter who’d taken a break and returned to find blue paw prints dashed across their canvas. The sheer randomness of the universe and cosmic chaos was like the bane to the existence of every orderly creature. The blue was more than a random occurrence, it was like some divine occurrence meant to torture poor Aki. Jintou stood by idly, hardly recognizing the tantrum from how well Aki had managed it. Instead, the boy raised a pausing index and offered: “The blue isn’t bad… all things considered, it’s a charming shade— doesn’t it remind you of a clear sky?”

Jintou slowly worked his way around the table, feigning an unassuming pose with his hands crossed behind his back. Despite how interesting all of the snipping and welding was, engaging with this fellow gently observed as Aki, provided a challenge to the insightful boy. Akisame was of noble heritage— an heir of the prestigious Takahashi clan; all about him, there were traits of a subtle superiority. His eyes had a strong profile to them; an intensity in the extremes. They were like the focal orbs of a bird of prey focusing on a field mouse when he inspected his projects. His posture balanced between the demands of a perfect upright stand beholden to any nobleman, and the crooked slouch of a spine always bent towards a workbench or by the weight of his armor. The cut of his hair, so black and spiky, seemed utilitarian in nature when compared to Jintou’s blonde, kinky curls.

Akisame brought Jintou’s wayward musings to an end with another prompt question. Jintou truly adored how to the point that Aki fellow was— indeed, don’t dance around, just ask me what you want to know. Not enough of the hidden sand villagers knew how to be direct. “Uh, pockets” Jintou repeated as he took on a contemplative pose. This was meant to be a garment worn for the thrill of combat— within it was expected to house the tools of war, but Jintou didn’t really have any tools of that trade yet. “Four sounds fine. Can I have one big enough that it won’t squish my snacks?”

Once Aki moved on to the defensive features, Jintou stood by with a blank stare, unnerved by the need for such things in the first place. He had never considered that other people or creatures might try to set him on fire, or that he might need the armor to protect from the force of jaws clenching down on his torso. The violence of being a shinobi had hardly set in for Jintou yet, even if he understood that combat was a large part of the vocation. Considering Akisame’s casual consideration for those features, Jintou brought his experience into question.
“With all due respect... Lord Aki— have you ever had to— kill... another person?”

 

[Takahashi Aki]

Aki’s childhood was complicated. While he was the son of the Steward he was subject to the turbulent times of the Cabal in Sungakure. While Sungakure was indeed on the surface, Aki was perhaps one of the few children left to remember life in the caverns. “… When I think of a clear sky, I think of complete and total darkness, not blue.” He answered Aki’s expression soured at what he had said, because he knew what he said was not the widely accepted answer given by most people. Silence followed for quite some time, “Not that answer you were looking for.” He would add to break the silence after sometime later. He would open his mouth to say something, but he didn’t say anything at all. He closed his mouth and returned to work for a few more moments. Aki had some quirks about him, like anyone else had. He would listen to Jintou’s instructions about the lining of the pockets, and wanting the lining to be big enough to have a snack pouch. It was a slightly unusual request for Aki but he would nod his head. That was easy enough. Of all the pockets he was going to be making, he made the snack pocket the biggest. He was unsure of what kind of snacks Jintou would have, but he certainly made sure that the snack compartment would be inflammable. “I think that should be large enough to put in … all sorts of snacks? I’ve made sure to include the inflammable material here too.” He would show Jintou how deep the pockets were.



The next question that followed was one that Aki did not expect. It was about the grim subject of homicide. Aki would roll onto his heels for a moment as he listened to Jintou asks his question. “Yes. Yes I have. I have directly killed people. I have also indirectly killed people.” Aki would look up to the ceiling. “Black stars dancing around the King in Green.” Aki growled as he uttered these words. There seemed to be a disdain for this world. “They danced around the King in Green and gave him power. Their lonesome deaths fueled him so he could continue to commit terrible acts for his own amusement.” Aki continued once again. He shook his head and lowered his gaze. “I assist what you would call murder police… it’s a branch under ANBU. There was some occult killings back a few months ago, and I ended the life of a madman. He claimed he would return again, because he could, because he is … or was the King in Green.” Jintou was young. He didn’t need to hear this. Aki remembered his father had a psychiatrist, that he rarely saw, he considered seeing her to help him deal with what he had seen. “Anyways. To answer your question from before. Yes. Essentially yes. To answer your question yes I have indeed have to kill people.”

 

[Jintou]

There is a saying about straight forward not always being the most direct path. Honestly though, if you’re looking to understand another person, simply asking them seems to be quite effective. But when it came to the Jintou’s daring question to Akisame in those fleeting seconds, the young shinobi cadet had struck some nerve. The change in Aki was visible; the subject had unlocked memories swelled up like a storm, or perhaps more like a snowglobe when shaken vigorously by an excited child. Seeing the signs of a disturbance, Jintou doubted the truth of his interest instantly, believing that he had overstepped some crucial line in dealing with Aki.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to—” it was a jarring instructional phrase often said by his elders, typically used like a warning, but sometimes as an insult to injury after some hope crushing factoid.
In his naivety, Jintou expected Aki to laugh and wave off the absurd question. After all, when did a craftsperson so talented find time to actually test their work?

Perhaps it was the same naivety that led Jintou to give Akisame the benefit of the doubt. He began mental gymnastics to justify the murder Aki divulged so factually. Of course, the outsider of a child that was Jintou Oba had never heard of any King in Green; nor did he know any royalty in any other color, or so he thought.
“Who was the King in Green?” Jintou bade Aki to continue, mimicking the way his father used to seek more than a fragmented answer whenever Jintou admitted to some blunder. This was a bit more serious than breaking a vase, or losing grandpa’s ashes in the strong sirocco that followed. “They were a bad person, right? “Were they a danger to the village?”

Seeing Aki driven off task before the subject at hand, Jintou took an opportunity to inspect that grand pocket, perhaps to reel Aki back in. He revealed some stale-looking snack cake wrapped in frail plastic and slipped it into the pocket. “Oh hooo” he guffawed. The morsel fit with ease and Jintou seemed eager, enlightened, satisfied. “Don’t mind me, you should get this off your chest… It’s just, I could fit enough sweets in here to feed a whole squad. “This is so great.”

 

[Takahashi Aki]

Aki pulled out a chair for himself and one for Jintou to sit on. He allowed Jintou to fumble with the pockets. It was endearing to see him be overjoyed with the fact that he could stuffs into his coat. Aki would make gestures for him to try the coat on and to test it out for movement and how far it would come up on his wrists. “Yeah. Now pull the sleeve, right there. Good do it now for the other sleeve. Great.” There were a few things he needed to fix up. It was a few visual things that to Aki was considered a quirk of the coat, and to make it looks a bit neater. It fit well enough, at least Aki was able to get the majority of the fixtures of the coat correctly. “When you’re done just take it off and put it back on the table. I’ll fix up a few more things.”



Aki folded his arms. He rolled back on the chair a bit. “We humans have a weird habit of following cult leaders … or religions of ill repute.” He would pause for a moment. His face formed a grimace. He didn’t seem very content to speak of this matter. “The King in Green … pending who you spoke to was seen as a divine entity, a cult leader, a madman, or … a serial murderer.” Aki very carefully worded each of those choices. It was the most tame version of what was four versions of the same man he battled. Aki spoke slowly and coherently enough, as his utterings before was slightly off when he spoke of the stars. Jintou followed up if the King in Green was a danger to the village. It was a very fair question. “Yes to both questions. Yes this person was indeed a bad person, or a morally insane person as my father would put it. Was this person a danger to the village? Most definitely a danger for people of a weak mental constitution – he had a way calling people to him. He had his Flock.” Aki made quotation marks for the word flock with his hands. He didn’t like the concept of people being compared to cattle, but that was what he did best. “He referred to his favourite Flock members as his Stars, and he claimed to have been given power by them.”

 

[Jintou]

Testing the sleeves to Aki’s specifications, Jintou could feel the limitations of his flexibility. While it would prove to be protective, he lamented at the concept of bearing long sleeves during forays into the wilderness. So he asked, “Do you think you could make the sleeves detachable?” The creator would likely find inspiration with button snaps beneath the shoulders, or rubber pulleys to slip over dull hooked tabs at the top of the sleeve. But Jintou didn’t have the know-how to make such a suggestion and it was up to Akisame’s design aesthetics.

As Aki explained the story of the King in Green, the themes of their followership were more familiar than Jintou wanted to admit. Leadership was a role that often required special types of charisma, and the willingness to transcend common behavior in order to compel others into one’s service. Any of the five Kages could have been described as such, or even figures whose followership seemed insignificant by comparison, like Jintou’s own father. Odds had it that the followers of the King in Green believed they did so willingly, much like the shinobi of any hidden village, but it was the village who bound it’s servants with life-long vows to service. The disturbance in Aki left Jintou wondering where the lines blurred between perception and truth.

“He was given power by the stars— his followers,” Jintou said, digesting the words slowly in an attempt to squeeze out every drop of context. “My apprentice codex says that the strength of our village is the bonds we share.” He was referring to one of the standard textbooks circulating the shinobi academy these days. Far too much of it consisted of idealistic pulp to keep the children engaged between lessons and training sessions. “Our leaders— Lord Raizo and his Sennin; they are the products of our collective strength. “Without us having their back, they would just be ordinary shinobi, right?” He dared to tread upon the lines of an apparent conflict posed by perspective. Much of his experience since coming to the institution known as Toraono Dojo consisted of this mulling over adults and their reasons for the shinobi’s cause. He was being fed the propaganda just like all his peers and yet, his life before the academy showed him spaces where the shinobi were not what they claimed, and there was no difference between a Kage in Red, or a King in Green. The only thing that matters is the truth we decide to believe.

“So, you killed the King in Green out of necessity— for peace. Our safety. Maybe, for the free will for those who couldn’t protect themselves from his call.” The questions and answers kept cycling back to the process of revelation followed by analysis. Unbeknownst to Jintou, he was behaving like a therapist. Against anyone unprepared for such a treatment he likely would have found disgust or earned a black eye, but something told him to keep trying Aki. Dig deeper.
“If you ask me, what you did was a good thing then,” he said in solidarity, honestly, with a nod. “It has to be— protecting those who can’t protect themselves is a shinobi’s first responsibility to the village. So, why does it seem to have you so…” He wanted Aki to finish the sentence. “How does it make you feel?”

 

[Takahashi Aki]

Aki would work on the sleeves, first he would cut the sleeve off (carefully mind you, very carefully with frightening precision). He would go over to his drawer and pull out what seemed like a box of scraps but in was in fact a series of mind numbingly complex instruments. Aki with this ‘box of scraps’ would assemble what seemed like to be product of a zipper of a jacket and a Ziploc baggy having a long loving relationship. “Apply pressure here, then pull... with some force and there it comes off.” He would wave the flap around for a bit before lining it up with the coat. It was there for a moment, but then the coat seemed to technorganically reattach itself at will. At least that is what it looked like. Jintou would hear a slight buzzing sound as the sleeve reattached itself. “The coat knows what it is doing, but don’t go around doing this like every thirty seconds. It’ll cause a mechanism to break down and then... well you’ll have to come visit me to fix it, or I will have to full on replace it.” He would point to the other sleeve, “Do you want me to do this, or do you want me to just to restore the sleeve to its original form?” He would inquire. Aki sometimes just did things without asking. This was one of those moments. He laughed weakly as he realized just exactly what he had done.



“My father once said that his belief in others, and their belief in him is what powered him. A King needs his people, and a people need their King. A dangerous belief, and not followed by many if the Daimyo of Sora is one’s example.” Aki spoke in reference to what Jintou had said. The two of them had similar belief structures, which made Aki feel better. Aki liked to think his father’s history for the most part was balanced. The rule of Takahashi Sousuke saw its ups and its down. For the most part on the surface level things seemed alright, but Aki knew his father suffered multiple betrayals and tribulations. There was a dark terror that lingered on his father, and Aki had been unable to figure out what it was. “Usually the person with the ability to deliver on their threats is able to unite others through violence.” Aki countered, “That being said, we are most fortunate to have people like my father, Lord Raizo, and Lord Katuso when he was alive. The threat of violence to force unity never really sat well with me.”



Aki felt awkward talking this out with Jintou, in the context that he did not want to bring dread into his young life. There were some terrors best left to the darker outside parts of the mind.“Peace is one reason. Self Survival is another. I won’t lie ... protecting the environment also factored into this as well. Craters forming ... usually causes one to jump into action to protect the land itself?” Sungakure was a land that needed to be defended. When he was asked how he felt about the whole thing Aki raised his hands. He was trying to find the words for it. “I don’t know. Things were weird, and suffice it to say I had to submit a thirty page report. There were things I saw, that I cannot really put into words, at least words that make sense?”

 

[Jintou]

It’s natural for any kid to start doing exactly what you tell them not to— right? The fair warning is like bait to childish wonder and curiosity. Ever heard of the Hot Stove Rule? It draws an analogy between touching a hot stove and undergoing discipline. When you touch a hot stove, your discipline is immediate, with warning, consistent, and impersonal. You might think that watching Akisame demonstrate the jacket’s zipper functionality would suffice, yet Jintou had to test it several times, searing his fingertips on the proverbial stove. On the seventh attempt, he felt a strange pinch as the teeth of the zipper somehow caught him by the hand. He backed away grinning, undeterred by the lesson.
“Do I wanna keep the tearaway sleeves?” His excitement in his tone made the answer clear enough but he’d insist anyway. “How could I not? “It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Taking in the craftsman Akisame’s answer concerning Jintou’s criticism of society and the shinobi, the cadet came to recognize that he met a proper patriot in Aki. To meet a good-hearted man meant finding a diamond in the rough in their wild, weird world. But, something about Aki’s faith in Lord Raizo and the Kazekage before him was inspiring to a boy the likes of Jintou, who viewed survival as a harsh reality in a world of cutthroat shinobi set on personal gain. He was a hard worker unafraid of serving others, and to think he did it to perhaps indirectly mirror the views of The Hidden’s Sand’s heroes. The revelation left Jintou quiet and contemplating, uncharacteristically slow to reply as Akisame finished a thought on his experience with the King in Green. Suddenly, Jintou felt hints of remorse for his morbid curiosity, daring to look at the darker pages in the Book of Akisame Takahashi. A mere cadet wouldn’t understand the trials of a tested warrior so easily, and as such, it was insolent to probe for the sake of his own understanding. Sometimes, committing to doing the right thing means crossing into a gray area where actions weigh heavy on the soul.

“Well, I appreciate that you’d share that story with me, Lord Aki” he said, hanging his head low. “To be fair— I don’t know if I could ever make it through the kind of things you’ve endured for our village. I can barely imagine it… But I do wonder. Are there any shinobi who can’t or won’t commit to harming others? Like, what do you think about trying to do it differently?” He found a hopeful expression and leaned against the table’s edge on his tiptoes, excited at his idea. To serve their community but not take the lives of its foes unless necessary. “Could we?”

 

[Takahashi Aki]

Aki watched Jintou do exactly as he bade him not to do so. It made him mentally groan. He did not need an army of mothers with various tools from frying pans to kunai to come at him because their ‘favourite’ child injured himself. Then there was the prospect of the angry grandmother. Yes. Aki was terrified of his own great grandmother. She didn’t look a day past fifty-five, she drank too much, smoked too much, and she cursed too much too. Shit. It was happening. G Grandma Mako was rubbing off on him. Shit. Crap. Shit. Crap. Aki winced for a moment. He closed his eyes tightly. “And shit.” He muttered underneath his breath. Oh no. He watched with visible concern as Jintou did the inevitable and pinched himself. “I’m going to get killed by an army of women. Yup. Yup. It’s gonna happen.” After a moment of realizing it maybe wasn’t that bad, he sighed. Okay good. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He would then go on and make the alterations to the other sleeve. At the very least he was going to be a fashionable and symmetrical sporting individual.

Then the curious happened. Aki was thanked for sharing his story. “You should hear some of the stuff my Father went through. What I’ve done pales in contrast to what he’s done.” He finished tinkering with the coat. Aki stood up and he put his hands on his hips. He mustered a smile at his own work. “So. Next time your sister punches you? She’ll feel something.” He would then listen to the rest of what Jintou had to say. It gave him pause for a moment, as he mulled it over. I do wonder. Are there any shinobi who can’t or won’t commit to harming others? Like, what do you think about trying to do it differently.

Theme​

Aki’s expression soured. He rubbed the back of his head. He fell silent remembering something from his early years. A man with red hair and piercings and a structure of corpses swaying in the wind, Aki remembered the heat and the wind. He smelled the insanity of that man. A man his father fought on occasion. Shouki of the Cabal. Shouki who was the bastard son of the Daimyo. Aki remembered his father saying Lord Katuso had killed that man, but he had reservations that he would truly stay dead. “Man is the cruelest animal.” He spoke lowly. He broke eye contact from Jintou and stared at the floor. Aki realized he was going to be a very different man than his father. He wasn’t going to be a mechanical man, he was going to very much be the apex predator. In this he was very much proving the point of the statement. “I would very much like to be proven wrong, and I would very much like to live in the world you propose. I don’t think I can be instrumental in its creation. That I say with shame and full of regret.” He spoke with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

 

[Jintou]

Not so far in the years ahead of him, the third son of House Oba would come to understand the burden of glorious purpose saddled onto the children of great predecessors. Life could never be so simple as to go through it living according to your own beliefs, not when the world expected you to be the second coming of Sosuke Takahashi. Perhaps there was a second expectation unique to Akisame as he lived in his father’s shadow as a gifted artificer. Society drives the son to be greater than the father, but the drive to be his own man requires the son to not be a copy, rather something different. What cost would Aki pay to become this apex predator? Often enough, it is not a difference in strength that will set apart the legacies of two shinobi, but the distance they were willing to go in their endeavors. Sosuke may have sacrificed aspects of his humanity in the pursuit of superiority, but would Akisame suffer the same loss, just in some different, unforeseen way?

Aki’s rejection of the idea Jintou posed had the boy puzzled. The answer came through forlorn tones, leading Jintou to wonder if all hope was not lost. So he considered the how rather than the what if. “My father says that cruelty is a human concept because we have developed the power to reason with the world.” Then he shifted his voice in an attempt to mock the deep baritone of Shinsou, Patron of House Oba. “Mankind is limited because they only see the hands in front of their face— a limited perception of what could be.”

Jintou then fished through his present snack pouch, a standard-issue one on his hip, and revealed a small crystal shard that was opaque and cloudy. He set it on the table and flicked it just enough to let it spin in place. “In my tribe, we inherit a special ability that is considered sacred. I’m not particularly skilled with it, which is why my father thought it was necessary to enroll me in the academy where I’d be able to see some outside help. Sometimes I think it was cruel of him to send me here… but I’m a liability to my tribe without it.” Jintou took a long pause then, waiting until the crystal stopped spinning. With a simmering glare, he looked up to Aki, determined. “The Oba possesses the power to divine fragments of possible futures in a subject. We can see them with a bit of focus, but when using a refractive lens like this crystal, the Oba can see countless futures all at once.” He expected Aki to look at him like he was crazy, but it was the honest truth. “If I could see you clearly, I’m sure there is a version of you in that world where we make a change.” Jintou held the shard up in the light, and peered at a hazy image of Aki through it, seeing him in thousands of small, fragmented views. No power was manifesting in Jintou then, no matter how hard he squinted or focused.

 

[Takahashi Aki]

What Jintou’s father said made sense. He was a wise man. Aki would exhale. “Your father is the type of person I would enjoy a long form conversation with a few drinks. Assuming he is a drinking man.” Aki would answer. He had an answer for what his father said though. Aki snorted. “Man can indeed reason with the world, but there is greater probability to destroy it.” He countered. Most wildlife, or at least from Aki’s perception, understood balance greater than man did. One did not hunt for fashion in the wilds, one hunted for sustenance. The wilds did not need to drape themselves in the furs for one’s appearance. Aki was taught to make sure nothing went to waste; unfortunately the rest could not be said for humanity on the whole. While Aki was the son of Sousuke, the other side to that was that he was the son of Sagasu Yume. His mother was a member of the Inuzuka clan, and while politics there were complicated, Aki was taught of the wilds by his mother. He understood the cycle of life. He understood the ferocity needed to survive.

Aki watched curiously as Jintou produced a crystal shard. He spoke of the crystal and how it offered different versions of the future. Aki returned the simmering glare given him with a calculated look. Aki was doing the math in his head about the chances of things happening. He was going to open his mouth to ask a question, but he thought better than to do so. The question how was did one not lose their mind when seeing so many possible futures at once. The sheer stress that it must have brought upon the mind must have been dangerous. “That brings me hope for such a future. We merely have to do the math to make it so. Everything we do changes the math behind it. Probability is a ... is it something we cannot always control. Certain factors... the whole concept of nuture and nature – these things we need to consider.” Aki would hold his hands behind his back. He would break eye contact with Jintou and look upward. “If you think yourself a liability to your clan, I would very much like to help you not be. I like to think the work I’ve done here today will help to go the distance in proving that. If not, then I will simply continue to craft things until I bloody well make sure a difference has been made.”

 

[Jintou]

Jintou fixed a chagrinned expression on his face as Aki mused about the company the Patron of House Oba would make over drinks. It just so happened that Shinsou Oba was not the greatest supporter of the hidden sand or the tenets of the ninja. He was not diametrically opposed, after all, he did willingly thrust his own son and heir into the clutches of Aki’s village. With a bit of consideration, Jintou actually came to realize that much of his own bias against the ninja was a product of his father. But then he came to wonder if the Patron Father liked much of anything. Shinsou did not like ninja, nor did he partake in libations save for a glass of the season’s first distilled wine. Jintou was so certain that there was no liking to be had by his father, only tolerance. Shinsou could tolerate children or puppies, but absolutely loathed the stupor of wandering kittens because they incessantly taunted death itself. If Shinsou Oba was at Chipotle and was not charged extra for the guacamole he would not celebrate, instead, he would frown and place the extra yen he saved in the tip jar. There was no such thing as coincidences, even if fate was a concept dissected by the existence of numerous timelines. The ninja— as a concept, was like a constant source of imbalance and chaos over the combined destiny of mankind and their little planet. It was because of the ninja that there existed so many timelines where the world ended in ruin. Fortunately, Shinsou spared his son from hearing every complaint he had about the ninja, as some things had to be left unsaid, and events needed to play out untainted.

Seeing as the armored jack seemed complete, Jintou scooped it up into a caring grasp, close to his heart. As he did so, Aki was sharing his sentiment about being of help to Jintou in his goal of not being a liability, prompting the boy to nod. “It’s a lot of pressure— you know, making that perfect world a reality… Becoming a proper third son my Patron can be proud of…” He held the coat out at arm’s length and then decided to put it on once the excitement was too great. Imagine something that suits you perfectly from first sight; your color, your material, all the formal statement: you.


“I’ll rely on this armor like a shell to protect me as that pressure rises.”

It would have to protect him, as in the following day young Jintou would be on a collision course with destiny. As the sun rises and the crow soars with it's first worm, the Kazekage will call on Jintou and his youngling peers, leading a journey beyond the protection of Primus' Bulwark. The landmark known as Godsfall was a proper legend to the folk of the Land of Wind, and no place for a band of students and genin. Jintou would soon feel the terror of the Unbent on their home turf and risk his life in his most harrowing adventure yet.


- Topic Left Unless Stopped
- Thank you for the fantastic RP Aki, let's continue in another soon!