Ninpocho Chronicles is a fantasy-ish setting storyline, set in an alternate universe World of Ninjas, where the Naruto and Boruto series take place. This means that none of the canon characters exists, or existed here.
Each ninja starts from the bottom and start their training as an Academy Student. From there they develop abilities akin to that of demigods as they grow in age and experience.
Along the way they gain new friends (or enemies), take on jobs and complete contracts and missions for their respective villages where their training and skill will be tested to their limits.
The sky is the limit as the blank page you see before you can be filled with countless of adventures with your character in the game.
There would have been multiple accounts of a mysterious lady deep in the Monumentum Deo. Why would this hit the offices in Kumogakure, you might ask? The reason was that it would seem that multiple people of all different backgrounds have encountered said person and many of which have left the place, seemingly unharmed, but recount that they have felt Changed. Eventually such a word would reach the ears of an ANBU captain, however the information traveled to get to the Hyuuga, he would know that quite a few people have been talking about such a thing in the Village hidden in the Clouds.
Should he make his way on a lonesome journey, he would find himself following the directions of previous people visiting the woman until he found himself at the top of the mountain. He would see a tall woman, about five foot nine, with long brown hair with a single dangling moon earring dressed in a type of trench coat with a white shirt underneath along with black jeans. Despite the cold from being on top of a mountain, the woman seemed almost not bothered by it. There was, a warm campfire nearby to push back the freezing temperatures from the woman. Her back would be facing Hon as the woman peered out into the horizon, though she would only see the clouds that would sift around the mountain.
Strangely, Hon had been catching words of a lady located in the deep regions of Monumentum Deo, and it was always about how this person had changed someone’s view or opinion on life. As if guided by some arisen guru, it was mostly travelers and merchants who frequented the wilder regions of the Lightning Country that talked about this mysterious lady, at first coming off as little more than a mere occurrence worth remembering. Not much Hon’s business, in the end… people met many interesting faces when traveling. He could vouch for that – he still desired to go visit some of the other Lands beyond Lightning, but with the previous mission of his setting off alarms in his head and those back in the offices, he couldn’t just leave Kumogakure for too long before things had truly settled. Yet, as an ANBU Captain, he also was on the ready to report for duty should the Sennin of his catch onto something.
… At one point, his curiosity got the better of him. Therefore, he notified a declaration to check out this mysterious figure himself, packed his backpack, and went out of Kumogakure’s walls to enter the cold, nigh tundra-like climates hugging the feet of the mountainous king called Monumentum Deo, the Monument of God… and holy hell, even with a thick cloak and gloves on, Hon’s skin met freezing temperatures with every push by the racing winds. Then again, due to strong habits, he still wore a white Tai Chi shirt underneath, black leggings of a true Taijutsu specialist, and the cloth functioning as a baggy skirt over his waist with the symbol of his bloodline displayed.
Because of the temperatures and the unforgiving elements, it took an iron will to maneuver through the jagged terrain and climb the rough precipices, even meeting a couple mountain climbers on the way who spoke confusingly of their new emotions. They all felt… somewhat different from before they met her. This, of course, was too vague for Hon to conclude anything from, so why not see what this lady had to change him?
Maybe it was just what he needed to bolster his confidence, after all.
The top of the mountain was finally met by his feet, his face reddened as nearby heat reached him. This heat came from a lit campfire, near to which a tall lady with long, dark-brown hair and a moon-themed earring stood with her back towards him. She looked like she was gazing over the clouds carpeting the other mountaintops… Hon didn’t sense anything strange or peculiar about her at first. Whether she possessed ample or scarce reserves of chakra was just to be determined with his crystal-blue left eye as he spoke:
“Uhm… greetings, miss. We haven’t met before, but many talk about you… so, uh…” She seemed very immersed in gazing over the horizon, so he felt like he was being interruptive, “Sorry to interrupt you. Was just curious, is all.”
As Hon looked over at the woman, he would see that this woman had enough chakra reserves to fight a group of jounin, though even with that said, there was a certain air about her that would indicate that she was not much of a fighter type of person, despite how strong her chakra around her is. Upon hearing the voice, the woman merely turned around and gave a heartwarming smile, as if welcoming back a loved one that she hasn't seen in forever. She would listen to Hon speak and then she would nod, "My name is Yamanaka Aoi. As my clan name suggests, I excel in Genjutsu. But while others in my clan use it for battle and espionage, I have found a different way. A way for people to finally meet their inner demons, so to say, their trauma that has led them up to this point in life. This is no easy task, at least for those who want to go under and relive their worst nightmares. Only those of the strongest wills have had the mind to push their emotions and mentality."
She would pause, and then speak once more, "If you are willing to take this road then you only need to think of your earliest trauma that you can recall, it will be vital for it will be both the strongest to remember, and the starting point that will branch out to the other trauma's that you might have."
(OOC note: Hon, if you agree to this, rp as usual, but at the end, please put in ooc notes a link to his earliest trauma event that has happened. While all that has been set in stone, remember, you will be under a genjutsu for most of the mission, some things might not be as they seem)
(As always, I will roll if certain actions are made by either you, or this time other entities that may or may not be at play)
(Have fun!)
Upon closer look, she possessed a large amount of chakra for a single person. Most definitely a chakra-user of the experienced kind… was she a shinobi? That could lead into a handful issues, especially concerning the recent events concerning the Revolutionists and the story behind their existence. Could it be that this lady was…?
No, likely not given by her name. A Yamanaka by the name of Aoi, from a clan that excelled in Illusory Techniques through and through. Maybe she was a tourist from the Fire Country, but besides that, she stated that her use of Genjutsu was for no such thing as combat. This intrigued Byakko quite a lot – before she explained her deal, he assumed that her expertise with Genjutsu was linked to what people thought about her after visiting her atop this mountain.
“…” Inner demons, huh? Hon didn’t find it strongly attractive to meet his inner traumas right now, for he had quite a few. Yet, wouldn’t this help him? Traumas stuck to his skin like diseases, and she was now acting as a doctor who could help him recover from it all. She was but a stranger, but word of mouth made her come off as trustworthy. Likely, according to his own judgement, she was worth trusting – he couldn’t tell if she was lying or anything like that, so it just strengthened his resolve. She could be trusted, which he showed with a growing smile of his own. “Might as well see just how tough I am. Been through enough doubting lately, and you could help me clear things up… okay… my earliest trauma…”
Akane’s injury… no, Miyazaki’s injury… results of his inability as a leader. A single mistake that almost cost lives. Luck pulled him from the jaws of failure, and it haunted him still, but… the events on the train drowned that away.
Hon would lose his sense of where he was, but soon light surrounded him, blinded him until he found himself in a familiar place. Wind whipped around as he found himself on the roof of the train, this time however, Shinjo was nowhere to be seen. It could be guessed that this is what Aoi meant by the genjutsu will change things of how they had happened. Gunshots were fired off and just like when it had happened in real life, the Genjutsu had mirrored that and he was hit in his prosthetic arm and another bullet had grazed his leg. Should he fight through the pain, he would have remembered his fellow operatives movements, fully expecting him to be there, but then again, he wasn't.
His body would move on its own and soon found himself back in the conductors room, where the leader of the small group had grabbed the intercom and had said the exact things that were said already once before. And again, he would hand the microphone over to Hon, waiting for the words to be exchanged. As the anbu operative would grab the intercom from his past enemy, he would faintly hear "Koko..." As if whispered, off in the distance by a female voice, though he seems to be the only one to actually hear it.
Oi… that blinding light came out of nowhere. Hon barely even saw Aoi’s chakra emit towards him, a testament to how skilled she must’ve been with Genjutsu. Still, only the white, blinding light surrounded him now… usually, he’d feel exposed to danger at this rate, but others had survived encountering her. He believed that she had genuine intentions behind her Genjutsu therapy.
Still, when was this light going to fade away?
As soon as he thought about how long it took, he felt the whipping wind blow across his face. The high-pitched sound of metal grinding against metal, and the sudden explosion of gunpowder. Every cell in his body reminded him that he was on a mission to inhibit a rising, rebellious group from hijacking the train he was standing on, and the pain that shot through his leg felt like such tormenting nostalgia… but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. It felt so weird, being back here as if nothing happened… as if nothing had changed.
I’m back here… my mission… my mission…, his brain overwrote his awareness of this as a Genjutsu and re-installed his ANBU steel-clad focus – he was on a mission, and nothing more. Still, what put him off was the surprising lack of Shinjo to cover for him, but before he could check back with his all-seeing eyes – his two, crystal-blue gems ledged into his eye sockets – his body began moving forward, until he smashed through the front window and entered the conductor’s room.
T-This feels like… My Reflection Jutsu, he noticed, reminiscent of reliving this event prior. Perhaps Aoi’s Genjutsu was a similar one to his own, but in his own reflective meditations, Shinjo was always present.
Upon spotting the swordsman’s face… Hon’s skin ran cold. He instinctively covered his right eye with a hand, noticing the strange sensation… it had really returned. It was his own, crystal-blue Byakugan that was in that eye socket, just like in the past. And this was the event that took that eye from him… a feat that he had so much trouble overcoming, even if he relived the event a million times before.
Grabbing the intercom only intensified the stress running through him – he knew what would happen. They would clash, he would push the swordsman into a corner, the enemy would reveal the blitzing prowess of their sword and blitz the speedster himself, resulting in the loss of his right eye. Contemplating on how he could change any of this… though it wouldn’t matter, in the end… he heard a faint, female voice whisper the word ‘Koko’. His head raised from the intercom, not recognizing that word or the female voice behind it. Was it a trick?
“K-Koko…?”
Remembering that he was in front of someone, he pushed that observation aside and raised the intercom up to his mouth, remembering the words he once said… but once he said those words, the battle would begin. His heart was racing, his hand shaking the intercom he was holding in deep panic, not knowing if he really wanted to go through with it.
Clenching the intercom to regain his focus, he finally spoke: “… Things are finally beginning to change. I can’t let you ruin that… so draw your blade… for your daughter’s sake.” There was no turning back now.
The fight went on without a hitch. The same things had happened as it were supposed to go. Even with Hon's knowledge of what is to come and the more trained reflexes to counter such speeds, the blade came down... Barely from his face? Hon would soon recognize that the sword that have liberated him of one of the Hyuuga's main special weapons was no longer made of steel capable of slicing through skin, meat and bones, but rather a wooden sword. And the person holding the sword wasn't the revolutionist that was filled with grief and rage. No. He saw a more familiar face. A soft smile telling him that everything is okay. It was his father, Hyuuga Yanagi.
"You have to be more careful than that Hon. Even a Hyuuga can be caught by surprise by someone skilled enough in combat. Even moreso if they aim for the eyes." It was weird to see him with a sword, but today's lesson was about applying what he has learned to combat someone of a different fighting style than him. Hon would realize that he was also younger, barely ten years old and small. A bit out of the comfort zone for his father but nevertheless, Yanagi had countless times stayed his blade rather than hit his son, mixing the style of the Gentle step with his attacks. Not as effective, but he was not here to beat his son into becoming a warrior, but rather someone who fights to protect. He came in for another strike, aiming for his son's right eye, but this time, the wooden blade did not stay...
And it wasn't a wooden blade, but rather a steel sword as it ripped through the ANBU's mask and made a deep cut through his right eye. Blood pooled down from the Hyuuga's wounds, but much to his dismay, as if he were expecting reinforcements to come busting through the door, nothing of the like happened. The leader of the train hijack studied him, before speaking, shaking his head in dismay, "You speak of not changing the past. It's a bunch of bull shit, I say. Each and every single person has the power to change things on a large scale. Their refusal to think that they can and rather just be a bystander as events unfold around them makes them just as responsible as the ones that have caused harm to others." Even though he spoke with anguish, there was something that the one-eyed Hon would notice. A hint of sadness lays beneath all that anger. This type of event did not happen back in the real world. For now, it seems that the swordsman is waiting for a reply before striking. What will Hon do? How will he answer? A bunch of unknowns swirl around in this Genjutsu.
It was terrifying. Step by step, he relived that crucial event like rolling a record. Couldn’t he do anything? His limbs tried to exceed, to go beyond his capabilities back then – he had grown stronger, even if only slightly – nay, his eye had been missing for so long, so he must’ve gotten weaker… but couldn’t he change anything? Even if he did something new, it just felt so wrong – his body knew what was most efficient in the heat of battle, especially in a one-on-one bout against an opponent that he’d fought before. He just couldn’t force his body to do otherwise, lest it limits him and hastens the same fate.
But the blade came down nonetheless, prompting Hon to guard his face. He had instinctively covered his vision, only seeing a faint blitz change the scenery right in front of him… and he was no longer on the train. Several question marks popped out of his head at that moment: Where… wait, I’m home? How did I…?
He remembered this scene. He was training with his father, Yanagi, who had suddenly grown much taller than him again… oh, wait, no. Hon had shrunk, since he was younger now, but things happened at such a pace that he couldn’t quite keep track of the changes in events. Still, hearing his father’s words soothed his troubled spirit, and he took his words to heart.
Yet… that wasn’t enough. In the end, Hon knew that – holding his right eye that was bleeding itself out, he faced the hijacker once more back at the train. It had already happened… he had lost his right eye. His right Byakugan, his evolved Byakugan – a rare Byakugan. It hurt like hell. Hon couldn’t have stopped it, even with all of his skill, with all of his energy and all of his techniques… it just hurt.
The swordsman spoke of the past again. As if Hon’s inability to change the past… was wrong. As if his perception of that weakness… was wrong. But what on earth was Hon supposed to do, then? What other alternatives did this self-righteous man have to suggest?! What on earth was Hon supposed to do?! “W-What the hell do you want me to do, then?” Hon spoke back, his voice hissing with fury and annoyance at the pulsating pain running through his face, “I don’t get it… I didn’t want any of this to happen. But I can’t turn back time… no one can!”
Rather unorthodox of Hon, he removed his hand from his wound and glared at the swordsman with wildness in his eye. “The more I look at you, the less of an enemy do you come off as! Yet, I won’t get this eye back, all because of you! You have any idea how tormenting that is?!”
Crackling thunder and raging lightning surrounded his hand, just like back then… and it extended, forming the Chidori Blade that he conjured back then too. A simple symbol of his rage in that moment, he forfeited the Gentle Fist for a temporary time for the purpose of tearing into the swordsman until his rage was quenched, but…
Change…
The Chidori Blade dissipated, leaving Hon to take the Gentle Fist Stance once more. The swordsman would need more time to formulate a satisfying answer for the troubled youngster. More time than Hon gave him back then… besides…
"You're right of course..." His voice trailed off, as the man took a sigh before speaking up once more, removing his eye patch over his right eye, Hon would see an empty hole with some type of black organic matter where the eye should have been, "Believe me, if I could have gone back in time, just to hold my Suzume and find a way to not lose her, I would have jumped to it immediately. However, since I can't. The one thing I can do is make those responsible pay for her death! And if I fail... Then make as much people aware of the war crimes that Cloud has committed on the citizens of the Land of Lightning."
"If you keep listening to this, you will certainly fall into madness." An almost unknown voice reached Hon's ears. He wouldn't be able to pin where it is from nor who it belonged to. Slowly the scenery changed
once more around Hon, this time, he would faintly remember the area as the Hokage Rock in Leaf. Being there only once, meeting a girl named Kotori, it must have been a magical time there for Hon, but here he was, staring out at the horizon as the sun was starting to set in this illusory dreamscape. Next to him was a man, around forty years of age, long blue hair that went down to the small of his back, pale white skin, eyes that seemed to be replaced with ever moving blood orbs, the sign of a Chigokai. And underneath the robes Hon would see the left hand, no, left arm was all metal, a prosthetic that connected to a stump.
There would be a sense of some sort of familiarity about the man, but the Hyuuga couldn't put his finger on it. The man spoke once more, "My name is Chigokai Ziren. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting before." He would pause before speaking once more, "No, I am not a part of this Genjutsu, as I haven't had a big enough impact on you, well at least in this form. I am merely a ghost now." He looked out into the horizon, as if taking it all in, enjoying the moment. "The Genjutsu version of that man on the train. He's only partially right. About making people aware. I will say this though. There will come a time when simply being strong isn't enough. There will be times where fighting isn't the answer. I'm not saying give up and give in. No. Cloud is reaching out trying to gain peace. And what of the warriors, the shinobi that fight off every problem to try and keep this peace? What if there are no problems rising up? The answer is simple. You would have to teach the younger generation. If you only train them for harder times, that's all they're going to expect. But to think that conflict will forever be over is a fools mistake. History has proven itself over and over that it will repeat itself, and if not taken seriously, can and will happen again. That's what I expect the genjutsu version of the man is talking about. He doesn't want another Suzume being taken away from her parents years later. He wouldn't want countless lives lost for the people in power to start listening to the lowerclassmen."
While Ziren spoke, Hon would feel a numbing sensation in his own left arm. Looking down, he would notice that it wasn't a metal arm prosthetic, but rather a real arm. The problem was... It had refused to work. "It seems while even though we converse, part of your mind is still under the Genjutsu."
An empty socket… no not quite empty. Hon noticed the black clump of fleshy matter where an eye should’ve been, something that reminded him of… no, it couldn’t be. The residue on his old, prosthetic arm-
The swordsman was adamant on making the Cloud pay, or die trying. Nothing that Hon said could convince him otherwise. Nothing that Hon did could stop him, other than taking the man’s life like he did back then. There was just… nothing to change. And there was no incentive to change – too much had been lost in this moment, and the events leading up to this moment. Who on earth would expect them to change?
Then… a voice. An unfamiliar voice rang out to him from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Hon’s eyes rolled around to try and spot the source of the voice, but all he saw was the flickering waves bending reality all around him, slowly turning one scenery into another. Was something happening with the Genjutsu? Did someone from outside interfere?
Turning his entire body around in shock, he found himself at the Hokage Rock – he remembered this place! And he remembered the nearby Maple District… where he met Kotori. But why was he here now? Had his memory faded away, or was Aoi meddling with something else in his head? “I c-can almost keep up with all these illusions…” he mumbled to himself, and to his own surprise – even with an active Byakugan – he was unable to make form of someone next to him until that very moment, turning to glare at an elder male with long, dark-blue hair, a ghastly look and blood-red eyes…
“…” Hon said nothing at first, simply taking in the fact that the man next to him had a prosthetic arm as well. Just like himself… but his eyes were noteworthy too. Blood-red, fully red orbs that were a telltale sign of the Chigokai heritage. But what perplexed the shinobi even more was the greeting from the other man, to which Hon had to cut in: “Ziren?!” Wait, it was just a Genjutsu… maybe Aoi was trying to manifest a sort of personal representation of Ziren in Hon’s mind.
… But immediately after, that same Ziren stated that he wasn’t a part of the Genjutsu. As soon as Hon thought that he could keep up with things, wildcards were thrown into his fray just like that. “I… I don’t… why are you here? I…” Hon was having trouble forming words at the end, knowing that he was on the train when Ziren was kidnapped… wait, wasn’t Ziren fema-
Regardless of what forces brought Ziren to Hon’s most definitely damaged mind – as a ghost or as a trick of the Yamanaka outside – he began explaining what the swordsman back on the train was on about. That he was only… partially right, so to say. It made Hon’s brows curl in more confusion, for he was still riddled with the heavy sense of guilt of a past he had no power over. And power… was what Hon sought. Not political power. Not influential power.
Just the power to kill those he wanted to kill, and save those he wanted to save. To protect those he bonded with, and shed those who threatened his bonds. To be of use, reliable, just… to achieve stability. But Hon was no leader, nay – he could dream on about the position as Raikage all day and night, but he felt like he wasn’t cut for it. Not the way he was now.
And Ziren rebuked him, indirectly, for his views and thoughts. That simply being strong wasn’t enough, a statement that made Hon’s eyes flicker, at first widening in shock, then squinting in anger, and then… resting in contemplation. He felt as if he’d only done what he had to do, so what else was there to his life?
Ziren reminded him that Hon was an adult now. That there were kids whose lives were yet far, far ahead of them – and that Hon had a duty to teach them and prepare them for a future different from this one. A future… when was the last time that Hon had thought about the future? Surely it must’ve been when he… thought about his crush. Or when he was training with Eichi.
Or when he wasn’t in the field… it made sense, really. In the field, he was prepared to die in the very moment, but was there actually more to his life than fighting? Something more that he could do? It scared him. His fingers curled and twitched, his hands vibrating, his left arm suddenly feeling numb and achy…
He instinctively grabbed it, only to feel flesh once more – flesh on his left arm, but the likes of flesh that didn’t move. “W-Why… wait, what do you mean? Am I not meant to be under this Genjutsu? Why is this happening to me? Am I… that fragile?”
Upon hearing his own words… and thinking about the future once more… his heart began to burn. He wanted, more than anything else at that very moment, to change. He wanted to change, alright?! “Ziren, I… I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save you… even Yuna’s pain…” Man, the young adult with many a blood on his hands… felt like sobbing. Tears tearing up on his eyelids, all the burdens ebbing down from his face. “D-Does it kill to say… that what you said… it… it sounds like s-something a hero would do. Or a revolutionist… guess I share more with them than I thought. It sure... sounds like something I'd like to do.”
…
…
…
Part of his mind… wait, but he wasn’t actively trying to escape the Genjutsu? How come Ziren said such a thing? “Wait, what do you mean by… by the Genjutsu? Is it weakening?”
Ziren listened, to what Hon had to say. He closed his eyes and thought about it for a second. "You are only meant to be under the effects of this Genjutsu if you had decided to put yourself in such a situation. As for why is all of this happening to you, I'll be forward with it. The jutsu used on you was made for people who yes have had traumatic experiences, who wish to grow stronger from reliving them. But you, yourself. You have a lot weighing you down. More than the average person that has taken this trial set by this woman. From guilt to pain. Anger to sadness. You have sacrificed a lot for Cloud and I might just be assuming this, but you never had a real moment of rest have you? You worry, you jump into the fray, and you come out victorious. but at what cost?" Ziren would let Hon mull over that question to see what his own answer may be.
Ziren wouldn't tell the man to toughen up or any of that. His years of experience as a combat medic had taught him how to be the one who knows all about bedside manners, especially when in the presence of the dying. "You have to know that we are not gods. That we bleed and feel emotions is what makes us human. Even all of the Kage are human at the end of the day. I've done all that I can to try and help shape people's future for the better, and I have to put my faith in Yuna that she will persevere. It will hurt. It will always hurt. But how you deal with the situation is entirely up to you. As for heroes or revolutionists of that's what they would do. I call bullshit. All it takes is one person to want to make a better future for everyone. Because of their bonds they will never be truly alone. If you want to change the future for the better do it. You have a voice just like everyone else does."
He looked over at the sunset. The beauty of this horizon... It would start to shimmer. He let out a sigh. It would seem the time would be cut short. "I've tried to keep you from the Genjutsu long enough. It seems that there is something you yourself must face head on." A doorway suddenly appeared before the duo, yellow fog wrapped around it and billowing out only to dissipate soon after. Hon would see faintly, even with his special eyes, only a figure of a man, but he would recognize the area. It was the conductors room of the train.
Yeah… Hon remembered, nodding in agreement with Ziren’s first words. Yamanaka Aoi, she was the one who was helping him, he’d sought her out for that purpose… but he faintly remembered just being interested in her deal with these types of Genjutsu. And as far as he was concerned now, it was one long recovery process… and nothing was really getting better for him. He wasn’t relieved to relive that moment in time, and it was nothing like his own inner reflection techniques – at least there, he was capable of altering the outcome through various, alternative decisions, but here… history repeated itself.
In the midst of Hon’s pain, Ziren laid out something that Hon… had thought about before. Ziren talked about his burdens being heavier than normal, and Ziren connected those burdens to his servitude to Kumogakure, which Hon had fully accepted from when he entered the ANBU. He knew that life wouldn’t be easy, so… he pretty much chose this kind of life for himself, right?
“… Rest…” Hon had to look down at the rocky ground in thought – what did Ziren mean by rest? Ziren’s next words clarified things – yes, Hon had worried plenty, panicked, rushed into the problems, leapt into the dangers, and he came out victorious. From the giant monster that attacked Kumogakure a few years ago, to the chakra bomb threatening the Academy, to the Revolutionists on the hijacked train and their base of operations. These were remarkable milestones in his life, but… what exactly did it cost? “…” It was as if he could visualize his losses like objects floating in the air – his right eye, his shinobi pride, the people’s support and a growing level of stage fright taken to a ridiculous degree-
That was why he came here, yes! To rid his brain of all those doubts and become fully capable again, so that… so that he could jump back into the fray. And things would repeat.
Maybe that was what Ziren meant by the notion that neither he, nor Hon, nor anyone else in the village were gods. He was a faulty creature, and it was part of him – just as much as his achievements were part of him, his failures also shaped him to the shinobi that he was today. So when did he grow so afraid of failure? And when… when did he think himself so weak?“…”
Gazing down at his left arm, things had gotten clearer… and thus, his prosthetic appeared to have returned. “I guess I tried… taking too many things onto my shoulders, and stuff. I’ll keep that in mind…” he replied at last, having gotten a hold of himself after wiping away the damp from his face, “Yuna will be alright, Ziren. I promise you… and I’ll be alright, too. I really need a break, these days…” Hon’s limbs were getting sloppier and heavier by the second, all of his tensed muscles relaxing at last as a doorway appeared before the two of them… and putting two and two together, Hon figured that Ziren had to leave. Wherever he was now, Ziren had done his part… and for the first time in what felt like years, Hon couldn’t feel his muscles acting initially.
They had gone completely soft, like rubber… nay, like water. Even as he gazed forward, spotting the appearance of a man, and the surrounding area reverting back to the conductor’s room back at the train, he didn’t tense up at all. It was like he had no actual, real fight to battle this time. He felt like he was melting down, turning to mush that liquified and spilled all over the floor. Every fiber in his body was resting. Every electronic impulse was on standby. He felt like air, and he felt as if things – the strong wind from the broken windshield, the dust particles, the papers – were just… phasing right through him.
He almost invited the man in front of him to attack.
In that moment, Hon had emerged from the fog... He would relive that moment in his mind as he would look at the general of the Revolutionists, anger, sadness, and guilt in his eyes. He would raise his weapon and blink forth, something Hon had relived so many times trying to avoid. But this time... It never came. Instead, blood would spray Hon's face as he would realize what had happened. A hand protruded from the leader's gut from the back.
What would come as a surprise to Hon is that he was looking at a mirror of himself. Wait... No... Unlike him, this one had the true Hakemei Byakugan eyes, both of them. Along with that his left arm was not a prosthetic but an actual real arm, one that seems to be fully functional. "This is nothing... I will overcome this." This copy would say almost mockingly. He would take a stance that Hon knows all too well, one that he himself would use multiple other times against his own enemies.
And before the ANBU captain could react, the mirror Hon closed the gap between them and unleashed a multi-hit combo. It would be known to Hon that two of the five attacks had hit a weak point on his body. But that wasn't it, the fake Hon would follow up with a flurry of blows that only one attack would hit, but it would be enough as Hon would look down to see that he was in fact now bleeding. The scenery started to change once more, papers flying around would suddenly turn into monsters flying towards the Gates his own comrades fighting by his side against these monstrosities. But... He would see his clone staring him down on the other side of the battlefield.
Even though this was all a Genjutsu, with the monsters all attacking the gates and his comrades, they seem to leave him alone, as if knowing that he himself has his own adversary to deal with.
Shit… he did not expect this. Surely, Hon should’ve been able to see whoever was sneaking up behind the swordsman, but they were cloaked in blurs. It happened so fast, too…
Hon’s body tensed up at the sight, almost shaking in disbelief – was that him?! From a third-person perspective, Hon looked at a replica of himself who had stabbed the swordsman through the gut with his bare hand, all too familiar to the Cloud Shinobi as that was but one of many actions that he would’ve taken. However, seeing his own… clone? No, that couldn’t be… Hon’s Byakugan could see a big chunk of chakra circulating around the faker, confusing him even further. And the fact that this one had not only both azure-blue Hakumei Byakugan, but also a fully functional left arm…
Maybe this faker of his was a replica of his past self – in a prime state of being with no disabilities. The faker’s confidence appeared to know no bounds, either, which honestly made Hon cringe. I was that certain of my abilities… once… maybe all of this is some form of karma, he rebuked himself at the sight, electric currents running through his mind at the stance that fake-Hon was taking.
But before he could assume a defensive stance – before he could raise his arms up – he was blitzed! Hit in multiple places on his front, taken out of his world of being the one to blitz enemies – and by the looks of it, two Tenketsus were suffering from the fake-Hon’s palm strikes – usually, Hon would’ve been able to evade such a direct attack, but he underestimated his own speed… or the speed that he was able to reach back then. The next flurry of strikes followed up, and Hon tried to slap them back with counter-striking Palm Strikes himself, but one of them passed by his defenses like a lightning-fast serpent, poking a small hole in his side that began to bleed.
Using the Palm Strikes himself was a lapse in judgement that didn’t suit him. While stepping back to make space and collect his thoughts once more, the scenery began to warp once more, rewinding him back to the attack at the Gates… back when that giant monster decided to pop out of nowhere and cause havoc. That and its spawn were a menace, and a bad memory…
Hon stood at one point, gazing down his fake clone on the other side of the battlefield. Veins began growing out on the right side of his face, activating his second Byakugan, as Hon pondered… the monsters weren’t flying towards him. He was still aware that this was a Genjutsu, and that his fake clone served a purpose. However, fighting a better version of himself had proven so bloody dangerous, as he was still holding his wound with his prosthetic arm, pressing in to stop the bleeding. What happens if I get killed to myself… do I even want to know? But how do I deal with this one, then? He’s… I miss having both Hakumei Byakugan eyes. I miss my left arm, too… and he has all of that.
It was such a painful sight, the more Hon thought about it – getting overwhelmed by a simply better version of himself. One who saw himself invincibl-
*ZAP!*
Sometimes, thoughts manifested themselves for Hon, spiking to life for the shinobi to remember certain events in his past that could help him. Sometimes, mundane experiences could prove so helpful… such as his father, Yanagi. … Okay, faker, if that’s how you want it, Hon decided, relaxing both arms before lifting them up in a fluid, arcing and defensive formation, No matter how powerful I thought I was… I was never able to beat my father in a sparring match. If I can just replicate his Gentle Step-
As if the scenery around him turned to mush, Hon’s chakra began leaking out from his wound and coat his body in sparks, running across his skin in waves. However, unlike so many times before, Hon’s flinging fingers ran across his own Lightning Chakra Cloak, weaving the chakra into a net-like chain mail over himself. The Gentle Step: Eight Trigrams, Heavenly Guard… but Hon had to smoothen his muscles. Be as tranquil as his father, and turn the faker’s ferocity against himself.
Now, he simply prompted the faker to approach first.
The fighting style of the Hyuuga clan, named after the"tap" like strikes it uses on the opponent. Unlike other styles of fighting, the Gentle Fist does not involve brute strength; it instead focuses on precise strikes of the used index and middle fingers, infused with chakra, to deal damage internally to the target. As the victim lacks any external wounds, the term "Gentle Fist" arose.
Rank 1/2/3:Unarmed Taijutsu gain +2 Accuracy, +1 Critical, and +8% Called Shot/Suppression chance. Unarmed Taijutsu attacks deal -25/20/15% Damage (also applied to their damage bonus cap).
Strikes 1/2/3 targets for 1800 damage. The user gains the 'Heavenly Guard' status. Rank 3 allows the special action to be used.
Notes:
Requires 5 second cooldown after use..
'Heavenly Guard' status grants +40% Damage Reduction vs the first attack which hits the user (if multi-hit, applies to the entire action), and has a 50% chance of negating any non-damage properties the triggering attack may have. Heavenly Guard remains active for 5 seconds, or until hit by an attack.
Heavenly Cohort has its own individual barrier HP pool for each protected target and the user.
Heavenly Cohort follows all Barrier rules with one exception: Allies and the user may perform Unarmed attacks without ending the Barrier’s protection.
Special Action - Heavenly Cohort: The user may use this technique reflexively as a Barrier for the user and up to two additional targets, granting each target their own Barrier and the 'Heavenly Guard' status. This barrier has HP equal to the damage it would have dealt as an attack, and protects against Elemental and Physical damage.
The fake Hon faltered, as if knowing the stance that the real Hon had taken. But nonetheless, he would charge at the real Hon, making a spear hand but the precise chakra that protruded from the real Hon's hands had expertly blocked the attack and pushed the faker back. In an instant though, the scenery had changed once more as the Heavenly Guard had kept pushing until it went against the bomb that could have destroyed all of Kumogakure. The scene had changed almost instantly, with no warning and effortlessly. He would see a genjutsu version of himself doing all that he can to beat the bomb into submission. There will be a few seconds as he stares around, looking at the other Hon's, not the two in battle, but the ones that are being projected towards him. Four different versions of him, all are fakes that are not really him. But as for the one that he is facing... Stood across from him in the same basement. Hon would see a large gash on the faker's left arm as blood started to trickle down from the wound. But... Despite how Hon had expertly blocked the spear hand, the fake went in with a flurry of blows.
The anbu captain would be able to dodge out of the way of the first attack, but the second one will hit him, though not as severely as the previous one had done to him earlier. Getting mad, the fake would rush in with a shoyruken to try and send Hon up in the air. However, Hon is now at the battle ready and dodges out of the way. "How..." There was frustration in his voice. But Hon could tell that there was something else... Panic? "I've... I've got to get stronger to protect everyone!" He would yell.
Biting his thumb and slamming his hand down on the ground, smoke poofed until it faded revealing to the real Hon. It was his Fox summon Ayeka. But also... It wasn't. Everything about it looked like Ayaka, but in Hon's heart, he knows that this is also a fake.
His Heavenly Guard managed to stave off a Spear Hand, just in time as well! Seeing the faker get pushed back like that felt odd, knowing how it felt to have been at the mercy of his father’s movement akin to the air blowing across fields of grass, yet no brute force could ever land on it. The shift in the air currents around such a big attack was more than enough to alert floating grasses to divert, an inspiration for those who sought to evade all attacks.
Hon didn’t evade, however – he knew that he couldn’t against a foe such as himself. That was why he put up a Heavenly Guard, to capitalize on the weaknesses he knew oh so well.
“Again…” Hon groaned, seeing the atmosphere shift, contort and change in the blink of an eye, now darker and solely illuminated by the pulsating orb of chakra that he remembered from the Academy on that day. The chakra bomb that he managed to suppress… and the visages were there, as well. The one carrying a child, the one carrying the mantle of the Raikage, the one carrying a blindfold, and the one carrying their own grave…
But the faker was there too. Completely ignoring the scenery, the faker was fully intent on attacking Hon once more, landing a palm strike through his Heavenly Guard among many that were guarded against! “W-Urgh! Why the hell am I so persistent…?!” he cursed his own tenacity, backflipping just in time to escape a Shouryuken that almost grazed his chin.
His Heavenly Guard was still up, thankfully. He could take a few more hits before it’d disperse, but his faker was suddenly… talking again. Panicking, beckoning to get stronger in order to protect everyone. “…” Ziren’s words returned to Hon again – if he tried to do everything by himself, he’d certainly break and fall… and never get back up again.
He’d fail to reach what he dreamed of, should he try to take everything up on his own shoulders. That was why this faker was going to lose.
“… A-Ayaka?!” Hon exhaled, Wait, can I summon Ayaka as well? I’m inside a Genjutsu, but… Ayaka’s fickle with Genjutsus herself. Deciding to give it a try, he weaved a couple handseals and mimicked his faker’s actions, slamming a bloodied thumb onto the ground in order to manifest a Summoning Seal. “Ayaka!” Hon called, greeted by a boom of smoke rising from the seal, “I don’t know if you’re the real Ayaka, but take real good care of your faker over there! You know what I mean!”
“Woah, woah, woah, wait, wait, wait! This was supposed to be my day off! Do you need me to tuck you in and tell you a bedtime story, as well?!”
“W-Would you focus for a sec- wait, you are the real Ayaka, right?”
“… Huh?”
“RIGHT?!”
“… Dunno, am I~? I might just as well be part of your wet dream going on here-“
“Okay, y’know what, you can fuck right back to-“
“Whaaaaaaat, no way! Let me see what’s brewing in your silly, little brain, Honnie-boy~! Also, is that a clone of yourself? Depending on your answer, I will judge yo- WAIT, WHO THE HELL IS THAT SKINNY BITCH OVER THERE?!”
The faker Ayaka, despite being… like, an adversary, was visibly offended by the real-fake-maybe-Ayaka that Hon attempted to summon within a damn Genjutsu, and they soon got to squabbling. A little deviant branch off of the real fight, after all.
“So are you gonna take me on by yourself again? Your Gentle Fist is halved with that damaged arm there, so if I were you, I’d… probably continue fighting, who am I kidding?”
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