High above the forest floor, nestled within the sturdy branches of an ancient Yakusugi Cedar tree, Shizue Tsuchimikado sat cross-legged, the world below seeming distant and insignificant. The tree was old, its bark thick with age, and its limbs stretched wide as if embracing the sky. The leaves whispered around her as a gentle breeze filtered through the canopy, rustling with a soothing cadence. Dappled sunlight flickered over her closed eyes, tracing warm patterns across her sun-kissed skin.
She was at peace. Inner peace
This was a rare thing, she mused. Peace never lasted long in her life, but in this moment, with the steady rise and fall of her breath, she allowed herself to embrace it. The air smelled of damp earth, the dew from the nearby water, and fresh foliage, a comforting reminder of the natural world’s quiet persistence. The village, her responsibilities, her worries—everything felt distant up here, suspended between heaven and earth.
She focused on the rhythm of her breathing. Inhale. Exhale. “Om namo Bagavate Vasu Devaya.”
Her body felt weightless, as though she had melted into the tree itself. The fuuinjutsu etched onto her skin tingled faintly, reacting to her steady pulse. These seals, painstakingly inked in hidden places, were a promise to herself—a step towards mastery, towards something greater. Shizue had spent too long as an overlooked Genin, drifting through life without purpose. She would not fade into obscurity. She refused. They were to balance her out, make her more focused on tasks, and a little bit of hidden chakra wasn’t too bad either.
For now, however, she would simply exist. A smirk curled her lips, exposing her straight white teeth, painstakingly maintained by a family dentist.
A bird chirped somewhere above her, its voice cutting through the rustling leaves. A light wind brushed against her cheek, carrying the distant scent of rain. She let her senses stretch outward, absorbing the subtle shifts in the air, the faint hum of unseen insects, the tiny vibrations of life moving all around her. The forest breathed with her, alive and patient.
Her thoughts drifted.
Shizue had always struggled to find her place. Born to a wealthy banker, she had been afforded every luxury, yet she had chosen a path of hardship, of endless training, of bruises and exhaustion. It had not been an easy road, nor a successful one, but she could not imagine any other life for herself. She was not like the others who rose through the ranks with ease, gifted with overwhelming talent. Her progress was slow, frustratingly so, but she had come to accept it. Her journey was her own. She had dreams. Grand, untouchable dreams.
She would be a healer of legend, a name spoken with reverence. The kind of person whose hands could pull the dying back from the brink, whose knowledge could defy the impossible. There was a power in that—a power that didn’t rely on brute strength or bloodshed. A power of creation, rather than destruction.
The thought settled within her like a steady flame.
A particularly strong gust of wind rocked the branches, and she instinctively tightened her grip with her knees, maintaining her balance. She allowed herself another small smirk. Ten years as a Genin, and she had at least perfected the art of not falling out of trees.
Her meditation continued. Time passed in that fluid, dreamlike way it always did when she was deep in a trans-like state. Minutes, perhaps hours. She didn’t bother keeping track. She felt no urgency, no need to return to the world below just yet.
And then—
Something tickled her arm.
A single, small sensation, light as a feather. Her nose twitched. The sensation repeated, just above her elbow. A tiny crawling thing.
Shizue cracked one eye open, glancing down. A tiny spider, no larger than a grain of rice, was making its slow and determined way up her arm. Its delicate legs moved with eerie precision, each step a whisper against her skin.
She inhaled sharply.
Now, Shizue was not afraid of many things. She had seen blood, had stitched wounds, had faced danger with as much dignity as one could muster. But spiders—spiders were another matter entirely. The spider reached her shoulder. Shizue’s breath hitched. It skittered closer to her neck.
Panic struck.
In one swift, utterly graceless motion, she jerked sideways, flailing wildly. The sudden movement unbalanced her, and in that split second of horrifying realization, she knew—she knew—what was about to happen. Gravity took hold of her and dragged her inexorably toward the ground. Limbs flailed. A strangled yelp tore from her lips. The once-serene forest blurred around her as she tumbled down, branches whipping at her as she fell. Leaves exploded into the air in a flurry of green as she bounced off one limb, then another, slowing her descent, but bruising her, pride, body, and soul.
[i\Thud.[/i]
She landed in a graceless heap on the forest floor, flat on her back, eyes wide with stunned disbelief. A single leaf drifted gently downward, coming to rest atop her forehead, as if mocking her. Silence. The world seemed at peace, she lay there, not taking a breath in or out, laying in a dazed state, the pain not settling in anywhere except a light buzzing at the back of her head and at the corners of her hearing.
Then, a groan.
Shizue lay there, staring up at the tree canopy, contemplating her life choices. Her moment of tranquility, of enlightenment, had been shattered in the most humiliating fashion imaginable.
A tiny, triumphant-looking spider rappelled down from a nearby branch, as if reveling in its victory.
Shizue exhaled, closing her eyes again.
“…I hate spiders.”
(WC=946)
