As mandated by his father, Ai began his solitary weekly walk to the Bibliotheca Conscientiae, a building the student felt increasingly familiar with as time passed. It had been years since his first visit here, when his father hired an elderly scholar to begin Ai’s studies in an ancient language. The boy could still picture the old man, every wrinkle and long mustache hair and recall the words he had spoken so long ago.
“Kumogakurian, the noblest of tongues suited only for the mouths of trueborn Kumogakure civilians and shinobi. You are indeed extremely lucky my boy, for if you were born but a generation ago you would have been barred from learning this eloquent dialect, as your father is.” Ai, a preteen, had shot a look at his father. He felt so privileged, as though he had just been given an unfathomable gift. For a while, the boy entertained fantasies of teaching his father the language, a dream the boy eventually grew out of. He understood now that to do so was forbidden, and for good reason.
“There are, strangely enough, two variants of this ancient speak. They are referred to as Vulgar and Classical, a distinction drawn by Raikage Yamada Yuki, who went to great lengths in an effort to preserve the language during an influx of immigration to the lightning country. You see, in that time the refugees of many broken countries sought refuge in our lands, and they brought with them a plethora of tongues and dialects. After a while, the aforementioned Raikage mandated linguistics protocol for all civilians to adhere to. However, as often happens when a melting pot of culture occurs, the language began to adapt, new words becoming introduced into the local vocabulary. This was the birth of the vulgar variant of Kumogakurian, which is often regarded as the commoners tongue to the nobler families of Kumogakure. This is where will begin your studies.”
With a nod to the boy’s father, the old man beckoned for Ai to follow and puttered down a colossal isle of books. Shooting a final look at his father, the child had scurried to catch up, the smell of old paper and leather assailing him as he followed the scholar.
“Starting off will is challenging, your mouth with wrestle with the words and frustration will follow. But, you must not give up. This language is a valuable asset in the arsenal of Kumo Shinobi. You may need to pass information to an ally in the heat of combat, or in closely monitored confinement. This dialect could be the difference between life and death, or more importantly, between completing and failing a mission. We will begin with Vocabulary and continue on to….”
‘Grammar.’
The bald teenager couldn’t help but smile a little, reminiscing on how far he had come. At first it was a mind-numbing challenge, learning pronunciation and the written language. His tongue had fought against the boy, refusing to stammer out the complex syllable and accents. Overtime however, it had become easier and easier, the scholarly boy tackling the challenge head on. Not once had he strayed from his weekly vigil, the first day of the week finding him nose deep in a tome, muttering to himself in an increasingly less foreign tongue.
Once he had a grasp on the vocabulary, next came using it properly. There had been many faux pas, most noticeably an occasion where had asked a young woman “Μπορώ να χρησιμοποιείτε ως ένα μπάνιο” Which translated to “May I use you as a bathroom?”
“Μπορώ να χρησιμοποιήσω την τουαλέτα;”
He uttered, correctly asking himself “May I use your restroom?” Yes, he was confident now. After years upon years of studies, Ai finally felt as if it amounted to something. Satisfied with his progress, the young boy took off towards his home. He just couldn’t wait to tell his father, and to thank him.
[MFT WC: 650]“Kumogakurian, the noblest of tongues suited only for the mouths of trueborn Kumogakure civilians and shinobi. You are indeed extremely lucky my boy, for if you were born but a generation ago you would have been barred from learning this eloquent dialect, as your father is.” Ai, a preteen, had shot a look at his father. He felt so privileged, as though he had just been given an unfathomable gift. For a while, the boy entertained fantasies of teaching his father the language, a dream the boy eventually grew out of. He understood now that to do so was forbidden, and for good reason.
“There are, strangely enough, two variants of this ancient speak. They are referred to as Vulgar and Classical, a distinction drawn by Raikage Yamada Yuki, who went to great lengths in an effort to preserve the language during an influx of immigration to the lightning country. You see, in that time the refugees of many broken countries sought refuge in our lands, and they brought with them a plethora of tongues and dialects. After a while, the aforementioned Raikage mandated linguistics protocol for all civilians to adhere to. However, as often happens when a melting pot of culture occurs, the language began to adapt, new words becoming introduced into the local vocabulary. This was the birth of the vulgar variant of Kumogakurian, which is often regarded as the commoners tongue to the nobler families of Kumogakure. This is where will begin your studies.”
With a nod to the boy’s father, the old man beckoned for Ai to follow and puttered down a colossal isle of books. Shooting a final look at his father, the child had scurried to catch up, the smell of old paper and leather assailing him as he followed the scholar.
“Starting off will is challenging, your mouth with wrestle with the words and frustration will follow. But, you must not give up. This language is a valuable asset in the arsenal of Kumo Shinobi. You may need to pass information to an ally in the heat of combat, or in closely monitored confinement. This dialect could be the difference between life and death, or more importantly, between completing and failing a mission. We will begin with Vocabulary and continue on to….”
‘Grammar.’
The bald teenager couldn’t help but smile a little, reminiscing on how far he had come. At first it was a mind-numbing challenge, learning pronunciation and the written language. His tongue had fought against the boy, refusing to stammer out the complex syllable and accents. Overtime however, it had become easier and easier, the scholarly boy tackling the challenge head on. Not once had he strayed from his weekly vigil, the first day of the week finding him nose deep in a tome, muttering to himself in an increasingly less foreign tongue.
Once he had a grasp on the vocabulary, next came using it properly. There had been many faux pas, most noticeably an occasion where had asked a young woman “Μπορώ να χρησιμοποιείτε ως ένα μπάνιο” Which translated to “May I use you as a bathroom?”
“Μπορώ να χρησιμοποιήσω την τουαλέτα;”
He uttered, correctly asking himself “May I use your restroom?” Yes, he was confident now. After years upon years of studies, Ai finally felt as if it amounted to something. Satisfied with his progress, the young boy took off towards his home. He just couldn’t wait to tell his father, and to thank him.
[Enter/Exit]