an owl's haven [p]

[Haru]

knew, knowing, to know.

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It was interesting, how the atmosphere transformed when one passed from country to country. I could imagine the relief felt after days of trudging though the buffeting, sandy winds of Kaze no Kuni, to finally be met with the rains of Ame at its border. I could picture the cloudless, feverish skies shifting, almost imperceptibly, to skies that were cloud-filled and sun-sheltering; no more wind, just an eternal downpour and a time-dragging wetness. It was enjoyable to imagine, taking what I’d learned from my studies in geography, piecing lands side-by-side and flowing through them on a travelling wind.

But to witness it was something else entirely. I would, for the first time, as I finally set off from Kirigakure on what I hoped would be a concise and productive excursion. I was a lone figure, sitting calmly atop a narrow boat that rocked and swayed over waves of deep, dark blue. A dense mist surrounded, rising up from the sea and down from the skies, blinding sea-farers and their worldly eyes. My own matched the mist, silvery-white, and they could be just as all-encompassing. It truly was that—all-encompassing. I could tilt my head back, to the left, to the right, and any direction in between—still, nothing but the whispering water could be seen. It played along my bare skin, caressing and floating by, meandering only half-aware. It was like this for a while.

Slowly, though, it would begin to subside, as the waters became shallower, and the sky reluctantly began to let itself be seen. The atmosphere transformed before my eyes as I drifted gently; my fingers glided over the waters, noting a new warmth in them. Slowly, gradually, the air around me dried, the caress of mist ambling away before, finally, its washing breeze could no longer be felt. And then brilliant green hues began to line the horizon; darks and lights, blotting my fore before long. The skies cleared, a drier wind fluttered past, and the boat sped along at an unprecedented pace, no longer impeded by the all-encompassing lull of Mizu’s space. I could see sticks of brown, forest colors atop them, becoming larger and larger as I advanced. The waters shifted in color, becoming lighter and lighter, until finally I could see the sand beneath, and the sands of a beach at my fore. The specks of brown and green had become several times my size as I came to a triumphant halt. A sunny warmth covered skin that was bare, and placed itself kindly along clothes that covered similarly. I placed my hand along the edge of the boat, steadying myself before dropping onto sandy ground. I had arrived in the Land of Fire.

Hi no Kuni—center of the continent, home to legends of valiance and valor, to deeds of vigor and vitality, and to my illustrious destination. Everything sat here beneath a calm, amiable sun. It was impossible for me to forget, however, that despite the welcoming weather and the verdant nature, this place also housed something else. They were etched into my mind, the events that had befallen the Mist in a chaos of flame and wailing. The howling laughter of the Hokage as he overwhelmed the village in a blaze of vehement force, his orders, our forced subjugation. We had yet been rescued from a despot and re-chained in a single, disordered moment. The power of the shinobi here warranted respect, certainly, and thus it had been with prudence and negative premonitions that I—

“Ahh, the sun at last..” a voice interrupted.

My eyes trailed to my bag, slightly annoyed, as a once-slumbering creature noisily crawled its way out. Mirumiya, my feline companion, to express it lightly. We shared a deeper bond than mere owner and companion, really. A bond of equals, a bond less corporeal, more spiritual. A soul-tethering. Our eyes met and I glided my arm across my fore as if displaying the forested expanse to him. And then we were footsteps in the sand, sloping up until sand ended and we were enveloped by a dimmer lighting, structures of healthy bark, and the pleasant scent of summer nature. We crept through the forest at first, picking up speed before leaping from natural cantilevers of worn wood and clustered leaves. The sun peaked through in certain spots, appearing as splotches of amber light against the otherwise shaded ground. We continued on, and on, and on. Eventually the light gave way to the dark of night, and then the dark to light, revolving as we cycled through the expansive country. And then the forest itself gave way to rolling plains, and a wide road parallel to its border welcomed our dexterous forms.

“Not far now,” the white cat sighed, “let the road be our guide.”

I nodded, and we followed the road into a crowd of travelling wagons and chariots and children with parents. Probably the most travelled road on the continent, it spanned wide and long, cutting through the country, leading directly into the trade hub of Tanzaku Gai.

Why was I here? I had anticipated the day for years now, since the first spell woven by pages turning enchanted me forever. We were burgeoning scholars, Mirumiya and I; we took our residence in towers of ivory, and found solace in words stretching from front to back. Normally, I wasn’t allowed out of the country, being a Genin, but with our short supply of trustworthy shinobi these days, when the request was posted, I was a starved white tiger; I pounced with ferociousness, ripping the sheet from its place and gathering supplies in the same moment. I was gone from the village that night. It wasn’t because of any aversion that I hurried—no, my love of Kirigakure made my swift leave that much more impressive. What presented itself had simply been too seductive, too alluring. We were set, officially, without a doubt, undoubtedly, irrevocably, without question—yes, certainly set—for Fukukaiha, ‘owls communion’, the largest library in the shinobi world. My heart had sank as I read the words, the mission slip quivering in my grasp; Miru’s body shuddered, a deep purr as our thoughts became one and were off. And now we had arrived. Hi no Kuni, home to Tanzaku Gai, home to Fukukaiha, home to anything.

I had never been this excited before, ever. Butterflies fluttered, I became a butterfly. Miru saw it. I flew past the people, they were unnoticed, past the gates, the guards, the buildings, the passageways and the bustling crowds. I tore through the wind, and then I was beneath it in all of its grandeur.

“...”

“...”

It rose story above story, foreshadowing the stories to be found within. New knowledge to attain, worlds to be explored, the time had finally come. My accomplice’s ears stood on edge, his hair frazzled slightly in a fit of excitement. While I technically had a mission to complete—a slew of books to retrieve—I had had the prudence to reserve a room, and several day’s stay. This was it. Wish fulfillment, a dream here manifest. I stepped through the colossal doorway, eyes glowing in awe, amazed. We were here.

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SPOILER: Click to show

{M}Ban Removal
Rank: C
Description: The process of restoration is officially underway. Striving to expunge all traces of the Church's influence from the village, it has come to our attention that a wide collection of books once belonging to the academy were burned at their pious mandate. A Kirigakure shinobi is required to travel to the world's largest library, housed in Tanzaku Gai, to deliver a voucher and triumphantly retrieve the lost literature.
Restrictions: One time only.
Rewards: 50 EXP & 1,000 RYO.

[Riot]

For those who dared look through the frosted glass doors of the private reading suites within the library, then it would seemed as if she had been there for days. Was she even alive? A soft cough here and there confirmed the life within the room, but it didn't seem as if she was too keen on leaving any time soon. In truth, she had only been there for half a day, but she had too much to do, too much to see. At the minute, Issouyia felt as if she had the world at her fingertips, but in a way, she did. Fukukaiha, the grandest library in the world, was teeming with books, journals and scripts that were free for the public to look over. It was simply a shame that many people probably didn't even know of its existence. But then again, for someone like Issouyia, perhaps that for a best. Being a slight anthopophobe, books were the only friends that she'd ever need. And at the minute, if books were friends, then she had well over several thousands at the moment. This was one of her favorite places to be, and to her, to disregard a visit to Fukukaiha whilst in Hi no Kuni was a sin. If anything, in the past, she'd travelled from the far side of the world to Hi no Kuni for the sole reason that Fukukaiha was tucked in within one of its smaller towns and she wished to visit it. Local libraries elsewhere in the world were good, but they were nothing when stood in comparison to this behemoth of an institution.

Slumped against the cool walls of the room, sat on top of the smooth marble surface of the ground, she sat in silence, basking in the universe of the book that she was reading on swordsmanship. She, alike many other people, owned swords to be used in the heat of battle, and it interested her that the roots of the art spread much further than being exclusive to those within the shinobi villages. To some smaller towns who didn't bear the gift of being able to harness chakra for seal weaving, they relied on physical combat to defend themselves and their families when the larger nations passed through with their destructive ways. In a way, it reminded herself of her own background, having been raised in one of those smaller villages. Black eyes scanning the pages, her delicate, long fingers closed the book with a soft thud! once she'd reached the end. Placing it down beside her near the other book she'd already read today, she then raised her arms in a stretch, several bones in her upper body clicking in a ripple effect from the movement. Pushing herself off the floor and back on her feet, she then dusts herself off, and takes out a small paper list from one of her pockets. In one, quick movement, she crosses out the second book on her list, and reads over the third, which she had to now go out and hunt.

1. Hi no Kuni - Geography and plantlife (2nd edition). SHELF ID: 342.2958
2. Swordsmanship and its influence in rural communities of the mid-west. SHELF ID: 069.3463
3. Blood in the waters - A history of Kirigakure and its arduous past. SHELF ID: 456.8591

Pushing past the frosted door, she locks it, and then walks out to the library floor. It was a good thing that she'd been here so many times, as although it would take several years to become try aquainted with the way that the books are shelved, she had a pretty good overview of where everything should be by now. Had she not other goals in life, she had often come to the conclusion that she wouldn't mind being one of the book-keepers here. However, to settle down wasn't exactly in her plans. Her mother, not being able to harness the use of chakra due to her own lineage, made up for this by her dedication to her family, and whilst this was a very noble cause to work for, Issouyia had always yearned for adventure beyond the small village that she called home. "........" Walking around the building, she caught sight of several people along the way, but her gaze didn't last more than a mere second upon each one. A lot of the time, it was the elderly that visited the libary, perhaps in some attempt to revisit the days of their past throug the books that covered them. However, once or twice you did see people younger than herself there. Passing the entrance on her way, she managed to catch the sight of a white-haired... boy? it was hard to tell. Skimming past, she went on her way to find the book on Kirigakure that she'd been hoping to read for quite some time. It was an old one, and was stored in a more exclusive section of the library that was dedicated towards old scripts. Upon passing through the threshold, the colder climate became clear against what skin she showed. Due to the age of the books, they needed to be kept in a special enviroment to promote longevity, and luckily enough, she wore enough layers to be able to freely roam this area without succumbing to the chill.

'..456.8591...'

Passing along the halls, she soon came to 456 and paused to begin scanning the walls. Due the vast expanse of the library, that code within itself contained hundereds of books, and the shelf itself spread over several feet. The search had begun, and Issouyia was ravenous for the hunt.

[Haru]

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I observed faces filled with fascination, enthrallment, and even horror as I drew my gaze across the breathtaking vista afforded by the entrance. Minds danced to the quick and steady rhythm of the written word. A frenzy of hands and legs scurried in every direction. Eyes squinted in searching, and widened in finding. The acquisitive performed spectacular feats of balance, as their grips tightened beneath stacks of books that lined their abdomen and towered above their heads, wobbling like blades of grass caught between struggling winds. I found open spaces bathing in sunlight, and nooks basking in shade as the warm glow of the sun poured through the windowed ceiling of the atrium. It must have been hundreds of feet high, the ceiling, and the windows were placed in such a way as to seem almost invisible, even before my more refined eyesight. Narrow, linear walkways filled the open air between the first floor and the sky above, forming a wide-spaced crosshatching if one were to peer up from below. Rows and columns of bookcases jutting up twice as high as I could reach spanned as far as the eye could see, covering the walls and the floor alike. The opposite end of the library was simply nonexistent from my perspective, attesting to the sheer enormity of the building. We stood wonderstruck, frozen in place.

Once we finally collected ourselves, Miru and I hastily made our way for the nearby receptionist's desk, the first list of book locations to be requested long memorized and cemented in my mind. The counter was of an incredible length, with workers situated calmly behind it, spaced out every few feet or so for seemingly forever. I approached an empty slot, eager to begin the hunt.

“Hello! Title, please?”

“Yes.. er.. quite a few—”

“—okay, let’s see... Recent Findings in the Scientific Study of Anatomy...”

“...a Nation Under Seige: Essays on the Recent Conflict Between Konoha and Kiri...”

“...the Imaginary, the Symbolic, and the Real...”

“...a Study in the Creative Application of Rhizomatic Thought...”

“...Hurricane, Tsunami, Typhoon: the Relationship between the Suiton and Fūton Chakra Natures...”

“...a Compendium of Techniques for the Personal Advancement of Chakra Control and Manipulation...”

“...Principia Divindum: a Primer on Clairvoyance, Astral Projection, and other Psychic Phenomena...”

“...the Language of the Unconscious: the Role of Dreaming in Contemporary Psychoanalytic Theory...”

“...and, Blood in the Waters: a History of Kirigakure and its Arduous Past...”

A list with the designated titles and their corresponding shelf ID’s would be handed over in a surprisingly swift manner, and then with a giddiness I was off. While some were primarily for me, and others for Miru, we’d agreed during the journey here that our first would be the final title on the list. I read it over and again—Blood in the Waters: a History of Kirigakure and its Arduous Past… SHELF ID 456.8591. For an instant I was afraid they wouldn’t have it, but then I knew they would. I had only ever heard rumors of the book, supposedly the most accurate, rigorous, extensive history of Kirigakure that had ever been written. Every copy within the village had been sought out by the Church’s Inquisition and rendered a pile of ash long before I'd arrived. The Bloody Mist; it was only ever spoken of in hushed tales, inside dense walls, and beneath the cloak of the night. Even then, many were still found and executed for their ‘perfidious lies’. Yet I always knew that there was more to it than that—that there was something our religious overseers were hiding from us, something deep and profound.

The Bloody Mist—the fragmented tales of a noble yet fierce, silent yet feared land that would play vivid in my mind late at night, morphing slowly into wondrous dreams that would carry me into the morning.

With the defeat and forced removal of that lunatic religion, initiated by Konohagakure’s killing of their leader, we had all been freed from what was a tyrannical, draconian rule. The field had been leveled, the future a void of uncertainty ahead of us. I could feel a restlessness amongst the people, a stirring; the shinobi longed for a new identity, to establish Kirigakure finally as a true force in the world. To be revered, to be told about by generations to come, to have tomes written about us in libraries such as this—we yearned for the day. It was a new ethos that I sought; I would found the credo, the philosophy, the rule and the law that could rescue us from our despondent condition. It was all here, lying securely on shelves and tucked away in secret places, waiting to be discovered. And I would discover it all. My first step was to learn, for once and for all, the true history of our land. What was the Bloody Mist? Who had they been, and why had the fallen? It was a well-known and wide-spread truth that history repeated itself. The ignorant and unknowing cycled endlessly, spiraling in a chronology of defeat, suffering, and regression. I could not, and would not, allow that to happen. I would discover our past, our mistakes, our failings, and in so doing, a new path. I would discover it, and return to Kirigakure a burning torch, to guide the village through the stygian tunnels of the future and find troves of treasure at their end.

And so it was with ambition and a calm, controlled verve that I weaved toward that book. A side-step here, a pivot there, at a borderline sprint most of the time, Miru and I eventually came to a lighter pace at the more reserved, uncrowded, and cooler area of the library wherein the text was housed. My hands shook in anticipation. 454…455...456...!!. I was there, then, and alive with a deep voraciousness as my eyes flit from column to column. There was no one in the isle besides a tall, dark-haired figure with robes that flowed. No time for looking. I was for the book. I squeezed past insensitively, rushing in the direction she moved. And then I noticed I had passed the number, and turned back just as I saw the figure before me turn to the shelf. I was there with her, eyes wide as I saw her hand reach. What was she doing? No…nonono!! Miru growled, off-setting the silence. I was there in an instant, half-jumping, half-reaching, my hand shot for the 8591 label and the book it covered. Nothing could stop me.

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[Riot]

'...Not this one..'

Despite how many times she'd visited this library, it didn't mean that she could find books in the blink of an eye. With so many with similarly colored covers and some even without the name of the document, needless to say it took a little while to actually locate the book that she was searching for. Our of all of the hidden shinobi villages in the world, she had always heard tales of Kirigakure and its infamy. However, all that she had heard in the past was spoken word from others, in bars, on the streets - as of late she'd been hearing a few more whispers about the village, and so had decided to educate herself on its past. The libary of her mind had infite storage space, and this book would only serve to add another to its shelves. Drifting to her left, slowly making her way down the corridor, her eyes again were unmoving as she focused on the shelves and its contents. It was a good thing that she wasn't impatient - a good book sometimes took hours to find in this literary jungle.

But then!!! - A shove!!

Reacting to the sudden contact, her body and eyes spun towards its cause, staring it - '....Oh.' it was that same, white-haired child and his feline companion that she'd seen earlier in the foyer of the library. What was he doing here? He was undoubtedly too young to be interested in the ancient texts that belonged in this section - perhaps he was bored? Was his mother somewhere here researching, allowing him to roam free in the meantime? It seemed like the only logical answer, really. For what kind of boy would be interested in ancient scripts? He couldn't have been older than.. 10. His hair silver, his eyes, however, bore striking resemblance to that of the Hyūga clan. Those milky, empty eyes couldn't be mistaken for anything else.This one, however, upon closer inspection, seemed to walk with purpose. She'd never really felt too much of a connection to people below her age. Some girls doted over them, to her, they often served as an inconvenience. A baby crying, a child having a tantrum - all things to ruin her train of thought and bring her back to this often dreary reality. Perhaps she was incorrect, and he was, in fact, looking for a book? Dismissing him, her black eyes then resumed their position on the shelves. Moments passed, and it wasn't long until she located it. '..456.8591!' a wide smirk grew on her face, and slender arm reached out to grab its spine.

"I was there in an instant, half-jumping, half-reaching, my hand shot for the 8591 label and the book it covered. Nothing could stop me."

With her elbow slightly bent, she twisted her arm slightly in order to yank the book off the shelving, it being jammed in slightly too tighly. However - unknowing to her, the young Hyuga seemed to be on the offense, his eyes wild with yearning for the same book that she too hoped to read! Should he have continued with his grand leap, the boy, with all of his youthful exuberance, would have been effectively elbowed in the head.

"....!"

Whether or not this very minor accidental injury would land or not, with her hand firmly on the book's spine as if she was frozen, she looked over at him, her expression unimpressed. "..Excuse me?" she spoke, taking a more mature stand. These words weren't spoken with any kind of spiteful malice, but instead, seemed more like a genuine question. What exactly was he trying to do? Taking the book off the shelf - after quickly double checking its credentials - she then held it close beneath her right arm. Some girls of her age doted over youngesters, how cute they were. However, to her, they served as an annoyance more than anything. The shriek of a baby, the tantrum of a child - cute wasn't exactly the word that she would describe. Her gaze then looking down at the Hyuga once more and his small companion, she waited for her answer, eyes unmoving, whilst her arm held protectively over the book and its silvery-blue cover.

[Haru]

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The thudding of impact reverberated throughout my body. Black robes enveloped a sight that had been unerringly fixed on a book now missing. What was it? An… elbow?! My mind was fogged, distracted by a warm throbbing as my feet touched ground. In a swift, graceful movement the path between the book and myself had been obstructed. My eyes whipped from the newly-vacant spot in the bookshelf to the thief, and then to the book that rested calmly beneath her grip. My book. I tensed upon seeing it, as if ready to pounce once more, though my eyes then befell the calm severity of the figure that was attached to the book, and I recalled her cursory dismantling of my hopes. I realized pouncing would be futile. My body relaxed slowly, then; though, my eyebrows remained slightly furrowed, and eyes slightly squinted. My gaze drew lines between the book and her cold, reserved countenance, back and forth. I noticed a vaguely familiar deportment as I regarded like a starved wolf her looming form. She possessed a certain remoteness, a distance, which could be felt even as we faced each other closely. She looked as if she occupied another world simultaneous to this one—a world that admitted her mind only, and her mind alone—and that her body remained physically in this world by mere necessity. She would escape, if she could. Or, perhaps I was merely projecting. Either yet, I nonetheless noticed a familiarity in her.

Surprisingly, Miru was much calmer than I. He had taken an interest in the woman, and was looking up at her curiously in the space between us. I guessed that he merely enjoyed the sight of my getting struck in the head by another, but as our minds connected I realized that there was something deeper inside him. He saw something, as well. But something different than I. He inched closer as her words momentarily filled the silence. They weren’t menacing words, but gentle and tonally mature, as a mother to her child, or an eldest sibling to a mischievous youth. I wouldn’t be spoken to in such a way! And her calmness, with the book I’d spent years in fervent wonder about nested firmly between her arm and waist! I knew it didn’t matter to her. The cold air that surrounded us reflected her precisely, I thought. Maybe in another circumstance, I would have been the same. But at this moment, in this situation, I was not. I was a conflagration of white fire, and my sclera flamed as they were forced inescapably to watch her clutches clutching the physical form of my very dreams. Pale fingers wrapped around its binding, exclaiming their ownership and my personal demise. Furthermore, who was this obstructive person? She moved with the kind of litheness that simply escaped ordinary folk, but that she was a shinobi was uncertain. She certainly wasn’t a shinobi of Kirigakure. What could she want with that book, to be after it so ardently, it not even being her home land? I looked at her irately, my hand moving to massage my battered skull.

“Who do you think you are?” I seethed in a hushed voice. “How dare you, heathen! y-you struck me!”

“And that book is not yours to take!”

                             “That was mine! You saw me reaching, you cold woman!”

                                                                           “What could you possibly want with it, anyway?”

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[Riot]

Perhaps she'd been slightly too forboding, she had, after all, just inadvertantly struck the young boy straight between the eyes. Lips parting, soon after her first statement, she then spoke a slightly more human sounding "Sorry.".

Though, to be honest, it had been his fault, hadn't it?

Looking down at him, she could see him steadily becoming more and more irritated as the momentary pain from the strike wore off. Her hand, however, still lay peacefully on the spine of the old text as it was held beneath her arm. It was almost like watching some kind of play, seeing him get worked up like this, and a small, sadistic part of her found herself quite entertained by this. Though it wasn't clear to begin with, the boy was young, and due to hormones amongst other things, she didn't doubt that he'd still be prone to temper tantrums. Prepared for the worst, she glanced from the empty space on the wall, back to the young Hyuga. However, as amusing as he was currently being, she soon found her eyes crossing with that of the small cat-like creature that seemed to tail him. Despite what was often seen as being a cold exterior, Issouyia was, at the best of times, very much a cat person. The way their tails swooshed back and forth, their small noses - it was, to some extent, similar to how other women would look at babies. She daren't admit it, but cats could be so adorable sometimes.

The smallest of smiles could be seen forming on her lips as she watched as the little thing look at her inquisitively, however, this was wiped away as soon as she set eyes back on the boy as he instigated the tantrum that she'd spent the past minute or so anticipating. Although she was sure that his intent was to shock or offend her, the more riled-up he seemed to become, the more prominent the tiniest of smirks became. '..So emotional.' Internally sighing at his pitiful sight, her hand stayed resolute on the spine of the book. Throuought his entire 'moment', she simply watched on, eyes half-closed, as if bored of this entire thing, though the small smirk on her face spoke otherwise. Whilst the library provided countless hours of delight, watching others flare up in anger for something so trivial was, to be frank, hilarious. U mad bro?

With a strong hold on her own emotions - as she hadn't the need to feel many at the moment - she allowed him a minute or so to cool off after his outburst before gathering enough energy to find her own words.

“What could you possibly want with it, anyway?”

"This?.."

She uncurled it from beneath her arm, placing it in front of her, and tapped it a single time with a slender white finger before returning it to its original position.


"..I'm going to read it. Anyway.."

She'd never been called a heathen before, that was for sure. Due to her drained appearance, and matching set of black hair and eyes, she'd been called a witch during her adolescence by dimwits on the playground, but a heathen was a new one - honestly, she was quite surprised that he even knew it. Perhaps there was more to this boy than she had first anticipated. A hyuga, she didn't doubt his ability to mould chakra, as it was something of an art within his clan. Otherwise, despite the fervent outburst she'd been 'victim' to, he seemed quite mature for his age. With the library having a strongly guarded 'No Fighting' policy within its walls for obvious reasons, even if he did try to act up, he'd find himself surrounded at all angles by the library guards. Placing two and two together, she assumed that he was a shinobi. As she was, of course, but - she was older, and that's all that mattered. Had she been less reserved, then this would have been the moment she'd have poked her tongue out. But, her lips sealed, the small grin remained. Pale lips then began to move once more, adding on to what she'd previously said.

"..Isn't it a bit advanced for someone of your age?"

She spoke it cooly and without hesitation, the words rolling off her tongue as if she had practiced them. It was, in all truth, quite an old book. Some of the language used in it used wording that was now outdated - not to say that it required a genius in linguistics to decipher, but she'd heard that one or two sentences had to be read twice to truly understand. However, back to her scathing comment, it was a moment that not many people got to see. Issouyia was playing. The boy who showed a personality years older than his age had shown to be very temperamental, and she chose to pick on this. It was within her intention to read the book and then retreat back on her travels, but his rage was all too amusing to pass on. What did he want it for anyway? It didn't seem right that a boy of his age would be interested in books at all, let alone one so graphically written as the one she guarded protectively. Holding her confident and looming pose, she awaited his heated response.

[Haru]

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My fingers twitched in restrained fury. It was toppling over—steam poured from a kettle that was only a few seconds away from bursting. It fell over my body, scathing my skin red, warming my bones, forcing my eyes closed, clothes a subterfuge concealing a tensing core. She was going to read it, anyway. She was going to read it, anyway. Normally, I wasn’t prone to fits of rage, but there was something about the calmness of the setting, the calmness of her icy voice, that impelled me in the opposite direction.

I met the face of snow, looking down at me like a falling avalanche, spires of white looking to melt themselves at last in deep red. Her lips were a lighter color, pale like paler skin. Smooth, cool alabaster. They opened, the lips, displaying white fangs shining dimly like the skin and the outer-eyes, emitting a possessive screech that would have manifested to others as a mere whisper, defiance and haughtiness-full. Eyes of void stabbed me in the chest, peering into my own eyes sequentially, seeking entry. The black tresses of hair outlining her thin, ashen face struck a ghostly appearance, like a long-haired grim reaper, here to devour my soul and take my book along with it. Her final words, questioning my intellect, threw my mind into the spiraling fires of hell. A storm raged. Books flew from their cases, falling, slamming, flying in the air and spinning in circles over and around us. Pages flipped over and over, pencils, notepads, her eyes looking like the ink that now flew, bookshelves cracking in half, falling over, the library itself coming apart, opening itself to the sky above as meteors came crashing down.

That’s what I wanted to happen. In reality, all remained still; neither books nor their shelves paid us any mind. We stood, still, facing one another, one fuming, the other a tranquil cloud. I could tell that she was toying with me now, probably deriving some skeletal, malevolent pleasure from the whole thing, if her appearance was of any indication. Miru simply observed, relaxed and tickled. I understood, nonetheless, her snarky sentiment. By most, reading was seen as a superfluity in our world; if you were to aggregate the total sum of books actually finished by any random group of grown adults you could find, in their entire lifetimes, and were to count them all, you would find after all of your work that there could be nothing found to count. Most minds were simple and empty—vapid and vacuous—in our world. Shinobi were even worse; beyond what was forced upon them in the academy, most of which was flushed out as soon as they graduated, they remained willfully opposed to the intellect. Even the brightest, who could list you every battle tactic used by any given clan during any given war, went silent when the topic of non-bellicose, non-violent thought arose. And thus that I, a mere youth, would be here, alone, bearing pretenses of being a scholar, seeking books written by older men of a different cloth, was understandably unthinkable.

But, it was the truth.

I was raised in a reality apart from this one. I was raised deconditioned and adrift in a faraway land. A panoply of precepts alien to this world coursed through me, had been ingrained into me long before my overseers perished. And now I was relinquished unto this reality, yet forever would I be apart from it. I had a different vision. A nobler, more honorable view. A vision of a shinobi unbridled by the fetters of the flesh, unchained by the barbaric mandates of the body. A vision of a shinobi who lived for the mind, and the pursuit of what existed beyond the body. The ushering into this world of new worlds, and broader horizons to be imagined into existence. New powers unforetold would lie in await for those of us who could harness the powers of the mind. We, and only we, would become well-acquainted with truth, wonder, knowledge, grace, and the finer emotions. Beauty was a friend solely to us. The rest would never be able to appreciate it; the mindless shinobi who likely had never even heard of the building I stood bewitched within. They only knew how to kill, maim, destroy; never with any degree of self-reflection, and no critical thought. If our minds were what separated us from animals, then what were those of us who remained obdurately mindless? Beasts, all of them. And they surrounded those of us who sought something more, with claws out, roaring, growling, enticing us to succumb and give our brains up for good. I would never.

As I said, I had a different vision. And I would bring it into this world by personifying it myself. I would light the dim minds, show the blind and will-less sights that they had never seen, that they had been inculcated into desiring not to see, and I would illuminate the world. Nothing would stand in my way. This woman certainly wouldn’t. She thought she would, but she wouldn’t. She was mistaken. Something unexpected happened, though, as I stood silent, watching her with eyes flaring. Different thoughts began to surface. Calming, soothing thoughts; thoughts that spoke of mutual benefit. They began to calm me slightly, and I realized what I hadn’t realized before. Empathy was a rather new feeling for me, and one that I decidedly didn’t exercise often. Yet, looking at her, witnessing her unwillingness to abandon what she sought, her pure, uncontaminated longing for knowledge, her enduring resolve, I felt something deep, something shared, between us. Miru had recognized it long before I had. She only sought what I sought; she was one of us. She was as dissatisfied with the world as we were; I could feel it. We shared an affinity, all of a similar mind, in pursuit of something beyond the mundane, the ordinary, the commonplace, the banal. She sought whatever wonderful mystery lie waiting beyond the horizon of this world, as did we, I felt. 

These were the thoughts that flooded me in the seconds that lurched tensely at first, before finally flowing smooth. My expression remained how it was, however, betraying such thoughts. I was disciplined. The book had waited years, and it could wait a while longer. I was off to explore the arctic.

“I guess you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” I quipped.

“But—”

“—I'm a world apart from most children... from.. any child...”

“I devour books like I’m starved and half-insane. Eat them all up...”

“All of them.”

Finally, my expression lightened, appearing slightly more calm, and a little more curious.

“Yet,” I sighed, “it’s rare that I meet anyone with a similar... hunger.”

“Never have, actually.”

I was guessing that she could relate. I became more serious, calming more.

“Why... did you come here?”

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[Riot]

After a few moments, the smirk seemed to lose its character, fading away as that ever present poker face made its return. It seemed as if her comment had brought on nothing more than silence. Had she out-witted him perhaps? This pause made her wonder perhaps she'd gone too far - he was only, what nine after all, wasn't he? Whilst his status as a shinobi was one to be considered, he was still a child, and children had a slightly different sense of perception to people her age. Her gaze fell upon the small creature that hung close to him, and in one graceful movement, she bent over, lowering herself more to the ground. With one arm still clutching on to that much sought after book, the other extended slightly towards the feline, inviting it to be petted. Her expression, however, was just as dull as before. Moments passed, and the boy's voice finally rung. Looking up, she'd once more lock eyes with him. The way that he began addressing me was, admittedly, quite clever as he quoted a saying that seemed very relatable to this current situation. Silent as ever, she listened to what he had to say.

“—I'm a world apart from most children... from.. any child...”

What an interesting choice of words. She'd already picked up on that idea not only from the way that he held himself, but also from the wording that he chose minutes earlier. However, to hear that he himself recognized this trait within himself didn't seem so... different to her own background. Alike the boy, during her childhood she had always been the quiet one. Not to say that she didn't join in games, as even she had a playful streak, but she chose her own company above others most of the time. She hadn't the time for the folly of youth, and whilst people at her age now would now regret such a mature upbringing, she wasn't really all that worried. Books had been a source of solace for her loneliness, and it hadn't changed to this very day. But, again - she had no regrets. "......" Her expression, however dull it was at the minute, didn't soften exactly from the boy's confession, instead, she simply held her tongue and kept quiet as he continued. He spoke slow - choosing his words carefully, and she could respect that.

Had the cat reacted well to her hand, she would then seem to become animated once more. Eyes gazing down at it and its soft fur, given its compliance, she would continue to run her hands over its skin. "..It's a shame that not many people know about this place." it was a passing thought, but a true one. The building was beautiful, and the treasures within it even moreso. However, with hidden villages having their own smaller libraries, it wasn't widely known that this establishment even existed. But to those who did know of its existance, it was a goldmine of information and knowledge. "I came here to read." Perhaps it was bit of an obvious answer, almost patronizing, but she hadn't meant for it to sound that way, that was simply her nature coming forth. Unfolding her body, she then began to stand, pushing long strands of black hair behind her shoulders and out of her way. "..This book seems very important to you." she commented in soft tone, from what she'd heard, it was a very informative book, and but few copies of it existed in the world. It was age old, and had gone out of print several decades ago. Despite the boy and the young wisdom that he showed, she was still dubious as to whether it was truly to him. His Hyuga heritage stemmed from the forested village of Konohagakure - perhaps it was its own library that required it? But why a book about the mist? It was a mystery, and her interest was piqued.

"..Why is that, exactly?"


She spoke these words in the same tone as before, digging deeper. There was obviously something behind it. Her arm still carefully holding the book, she looked forwards to what he had to say - if he chose to answer her, that is.

She had all day.

OOC: I didn't want to mention that he was a kiri-nin, as I was unsure if he had his headband worn in this thread! So it's probably best if we play along that he's not wearing it at the minute, haha.

[Haru]

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Her tranquil expression, Delphic in its indecipherability, played quietly along my vision. Her presence resembled that of the setting in more ways than one. Beyond the chilling air, and her calmness, she was as well alike the tomes lining her either side in her mystery; like an unopened book, familiar in its concrete form, and yet possessing inside the unknown itself, the enigmatic and the uncertain. She was still and silent, like pages frozen away, and laconic, yet without diffidence. And she was different from the library, as well. Lethal, fatal, fatalistic. Lithe in a way that was lost on hefty books and cyclopean bookshelves. She could be an owl or a cobra, depending, or even something yet undiscovered.

If I rambled about her appearance, it was only in proportion to the effect its sheer singularity was having on me. I wasn’t shallow; I wasn’t capable of attraction; seduction was lost on me—it was none of those silly things. It was different, it was more. It was a feeling, an atmosphere, which I felt; something that was rarely felt, and, only felt. When occasioned by what was indefinable and ineffable such feelings made themselves real, devouring, and more mystical than real. Bones shuddered, teeth clicked, at the feeling. Before the presence of one that was more, one became less than one. It was a mixture of admiration and asphyxiation.

Mirumiya purred as her cool fingers pressed white fur against his body. He ambled slightly closer, moving along a moving hand. A new friend. For the creature, at least. I was busy considering her remark. It was a shame, that most were unaware of what was a sanctuary for those who were aware. Maybe it was more than a shame. A crime, committed by power against humanity itself, which hid from its populace pleasures that didn’t directly serve it. Empire was analogous to the Id, it often seemed; blind to future returns, concerned only with satisfaction in the now. Yet, I wagered, the rewards that could be provided by such higher, less primitive pursuits stretched far beyond. They weren’t immediate, but their distance was beyond accounted for, and their supercilious manner more than called for; yet, who knew but those who already knew? How could one make the uncaring begin to care? Could an idiot be made an intellectual? This was the dilemma that plagued the knowing, today—how to actuate renaissance. It was a question for another time, though, as a new question would appear. Her, again. A gentle tone, intimating a curiosity that belied her otherwise perfunctory mien. It resonated toward me, drifting, swimming through the air, and then dispersing, leaving our surroundings to echo in my mind.

What did I want with that book? Why, I wanted everything. Everything it had to offer and more, for more reasons than any single world could afford to offer. And I could have asked her the same question. I wanted to, now. She was such a curiosity. Yet, I supposed the question was more pertinent and deserving when posed at me—given my earlier vehemence in pursuit of it, my age, or my appearance, even. It wasn’t far-fetched to consider her knowledgeable of my eyes—what they signified, to whom they belonged. Alas, no answers were to be found there. I was estranged from those ones. In an infinite number of ways—not merely by distance. From what I’d read, the Hyūga of Konoha were a people of tradition and pride; orderly, controlled, confined. I was a white, omni-present flame, however; uncontrollable, unconfined. An icicle through the heart and blood dripping from closed fangs. I was the dark of night, and the light of a distant star, and the steel beneath it all, and calmness beneath that. I did not answer to anyone. I wouldn’t bite the hand that attempted to scold me, I would cut it off. I had no family, no friends. I was a lone blade; razor sharp, shooting silent and disordered from a thousand schizophrenic directions. All encased in a still and empty form, shot through with void in endless multiplicities. I didn’t know them, and they didn’t know me.

So, if she was wondering about that, it wasn’t a thing to wonder about. Certainly nothing to worry about.

My eyes lifted from her waiting form, moving along the rows of books reaching above, pondering the question sincerely. I didn’t see any reason to not give her a sincere answer. She was unlike anyone I had ever seen before. Surely that warranted something, no? If not, Miru was markedly fond of her, and I figured that did. And, the Old Mist was no more; any Konoha shinobi knew, by now. There was nothing left to hide.

“I can trust you, I think.” I responded curtly.

“That is the history… of my land, you are holding.”

“It was taken from us, burned by our ruler and her religion.”

“You read. I’m sure you’ve come across them, somewhere… ‘The Church of the Latter-Day.. Whatever'.”

“Doesn’t matter. We killed them all. They’re all gone, now. Somewhere far, far away…”

“A new Mist will rise, with my devotion... will devour.. injustice.”

“…”

“Are you curious, as well? Is that why you have it?”

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[Riot]

“You read. I’m sure you’ve come across them, somewhere… ‘The Church of the Latter-Day.. Wha-”

"Church of the Rising Mist." she pauses. "..The Church of the Rising Mist. I'd heard of it, but had always doubted its legitimacy." whilst travelling, she tended to hear whispers, strangers between strangers, friends between friends, in the depths of bars to out in broad daylight. Words travelled, and she had been careful to pick up on them. Rumor had it that dark times had crept upon Kirigakure, and the name of that organization had been something that had stuck in her mind. She didn't know much beyond the fact that there was trouble in the area - which is why she'd avoided it as of late, so chances were the boy knew more than she about its current situation. Remembering to dig in to this topic at a later note, she instead listened to what he had to say. He spoke years beyond his true age, and whilst she could respect that and relate in some ways, there was something slightly.. sad about it all.

So, he was a native of Kirigakure? She wouldn't have thought so given his heritage, but clans had travelled far and wide across the globe, war and strife being few amongst the many reasons why. But, she wasn't interested in his life story - more the knowledge that he had. He spoke almost as if he had some revenge to call upon - what was he, nine? Who could he possibly want to go out and seek vengeance on at that age? Recalling her own memories, when she was nearing ten she was too busy reading books about birds and trees to care about much else. Surely enough her family felt the probe of war between the large shinobi villages, but for the much part her childhood was average. Had this.. church destroyed his childhood in Kirigakure? Whilst not wanting to speculate things, the way that he spoke about it was very much negative. Perhaps faith wasn't all that much of a good thing after all. We killed them, he said? He was eleven! What kind of twisted world was this where children were forced to engage in warfare?

"I was curious." she spoke, past tense. If he wanted this book so much, perhaps she could trade it to him for an exchange of information? It was a riskless game. There was easily another copy of this in the shinobi world somewhere, as she'd heard a rumor of three being printed in total. And even if there wasn't, what this book discussed was touched upon by several others, it just so happened that this one was the most detailed. Regardless, she didn't seem to hold the same passion for it as this boy did, it seemed almost.. pivotal to him, to take this book. "..I'm sure you know more about the current state of Kirigakure than I. If you part with this information.." a pause, as she glanced at the hard-back held snugly beneath her arm. "..the book is yours." she wasn't asking him to divulge the secrets of the village to her, nor the location of the place. She just wanted to know what had happened that had gotten so many people talking, not only in Mizu no Kuni, but everywhere. Their conversation had taken a serious turn, and she felt somewhat guilty speaking to a child in such a way, but it was more than clear that he, too, wouldn't refer to himself by that label. She looked down at the boy, the silence in the library very telling of the nature of their current conversation. Would he comply with her request and explain all that had happened? It was something that she was going to find out one way or another, but it was simply all too convenient of an opportunity for her to miss out on.


"I heard a great shadow was cast upon Mizu no Kuni."

"..I fear it's spreading."

For someone like Issouyia who fed on bleakness, it was becoming all to real even for her. Perhaps it was the events in Kirigakure that had travelled across and brought its misery, but things had gotten colder recently. Be it the people, the atmosphere, or the very possible consideration that her own solitary nature had brought her to the brink of madness, but things had changed, and not for the better. The winds were colder now, and the sun duller.

[Haru]

--------------------------------------

I was curious as to why she desired such information. Kirigakure had never played a significant role in world affairs; it was beyond the sea, adrift from the mainland and its intermingling, cosmopolitan population. We were separate, simply, and the oceanic environment of Mizu no Kuni didn’t necessarily offer accommodation to the wandering and errant. I wondered about her motives; they were impossible to discern by mere observation, with her deadpan gaze and still figure. She was a question mark that both welcomed and unwelcomed at the same time. There would be no getting to the bottom of it.

Nonetheless, I had nothing to lose, anymore; whether such information was known or not known was of no personal consequence, I thought, as the status of our village was no longer ours. The very self-hood of Kirigakure had been stolen and replaced, and now what the village was and to whom it belonged were both detached inquiries. It was merely an extension of Konohagakure, now, and technically not much else could be said. Although my allegiance had always been first to myself alone, and only then to the village, I couldn’t help but feel an even greater distance and indifference to it now. Many were the opposite, accepting our new leadership with open, sycophantic arms, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t in me to live beneath another; existence as a puppet wasn’t existence at all, I thought. Appearances had to be maintained, smiles displayed, subordination upheld, but that was all that they would be for me—convincing appearances. I only played along. In truth, I was a shinobi of a Kirigakure that only now existed in shadows—in idealistic thoughts and wild dreams. Our current condition meant nothing, to me, and I felt only an impassive coldness toward the Fire. And one day, and with the help of that book, the Fire would be forever quelled and eternally extinguished. Thus, it was with an honest, guiltless, and eager disposition that I agreed.

“Fair enough,” I replied.

“I am uncertain as to why such information matters to you, but your wish will be fulfilled.”

I turned her final words over in my head, then. A.. great shadow?

“And there is no need to fear,” I would remark, matter-of-factly, “you, of course, know by now that turmoil is the rule of the world. Shadows cover and encompass, and the sun claims none. That’s just the rule of things. I would become the Shadow itself, I think. Otherwise…”

I trailed, matching eyes with Mirumiya for a moment before drifting back toward her.

The memories surfaced from my pre-conscious at her signal, still just as vivid as being there. I experienced it all. I felt the misty air sprinting past me, thinning as I flew toward the Sound; garb and hair flowed and billowed in the mist’s direction, but my will was forward and resolute. A monstrous, calamitous moaning, and the village wall began collapsing in on itself, falling section by section like earthen dominoes. One could see it happen in the far background; the horizon fell. There was fire, as well; it poured through the buckling structure, sprouting here and there, scorching the air and rending into ash whatever it enveloped. One could feel a sudden, ubiquitous fear blanket the atmosphere, holding bodies still and head’s down. A hellish sound began to line every corner, flailing from above and below, as the villagers cried in unison. A harmony of disemboweled screeching, of death and doom, played eagerly throughout, sparing none and only amplifying as time crept on. The relaxing aroma of the still sea was destructed by the stench of blood and ash and rising dust; the horror was tangible, and you could taste it in the air. I remembered my initial puzzlement, as my soles padded against brick and stone, and the slow understanding that overwhelmed me as I drew nearer to the scene. Bodies piled against one another, atop and beneath mounds of the crumbled edifice that had once stood proud, all overseen from above by a sickly, disjointed smile.

The images of defeat and disaster wouldn’t affect my solemnity as I spoke calmly once more.

“It started a month ago, approximately. There were reports of the Mizukage’s death, initially, but none of us believed them. She was just away, we thought. And then they came, Konoha, and they forced us to comprehend what had transpired. We didn’t have the means to combat them; they overcame us, and we were left to accede or be made to resemble our Kage.”

I paused, retracing images of that filthy, repulsive woman in my mind.

“But we weren’t bereft. I would have done it myself, if I had the means. That religion… it destroyed Kirigakure long before the invasion. It created the conditions for such an invasion, truthfully—welcomed it. And so we punished them for their ineptitude, finally, and for what they had wrought upon our village. It was their fault. All their fault. And they paid, ultimately.”

I stopped again, considering now what had occurred since the Culling.

“There is a question that abounds, now. A new identity is.. is tacitly sought, by the populace. I will be their prophet, and mark a Returning. The Bloody Mist will be real, once more, and it will be a reformed Mist, more cerebral, more lethal. We won’t succumb and fail, as our antecedents have.”

“That is the story of the Mist, today. Tomorrow is a hopeful question, I believe.”

I collected myself. It was rare that I spoke so much; I watched her closely as the seconds passed.

“Satisfied?”

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[Riot]

Would the boy go forwards with her request? It was a strange one, given the fact that despite the fact that she'd given no clues to her heritage, it was clear that she wasn't a citizen of Kirigakure, nor Mizu no kuni. For she was sure that those living within those parts would be more than aware of the devestation that the church had brought on them. She'd heard small things, tidbits of information where and there, but nothing strong enough that could formulate an entire story. And so, as the boy began to speak once more, answering the question that she'd asked, she stood silent in await, respectfully listening to him as he recited the tale of Kirigakure's most recent issues. In a way, she did feel bad for him - no child should experience war and violence, let alone within their own village. If you placed the two things together, perhaps it did make sense that he'd turned out as .. different as he was, much different to your average ten year old. Even she in all of her brooding glory had been somewhat of a happy child. Though she didn't deny that he too felt joyous emotions, perhaps he was even bleaker than her.


"The Bloody Mist will be real, once more, and it will be a reformed Mist, more cerebral, more lethal. We won’t succumb and fail, as our antecedents have.”

This line, however, struck a chord with her. There was something strange about it - disturbing almost. With The Bloody Mist having been a nickname that the country had owned for decades, the reality of it all was so much more glamorous than the name applied to it. He spoke almost as if he planned to be the figurehead of this oncoming movement, but to what extent? He was like, twelve, after all. Despite this, he seemed passionate towards the cause, and people with that frame of mind were known to accomplish uncanny things. Remembering all that he'd mentioned, she then slowly unravelled her hands around the book, removing it from beneath her arm. Ringing true to what she'd offered, she then extended the tome out towards the boy, free for him to take as he pleased. "Thank you." a pause. As sarcastic and cunning as she could be, Issouyia wasn't one to break promises. The information had been useful to know, and his hopes for the future of the village? that was interesting in itself.

Once he would then take the ancient book from her grasp, she'd then start to move back towards the entrance of the department that the two - three, if you counted the feline-like creature - of them had met eachother in. Becoming nearer and nearer, light steps bringing her closer, she seemed pause as she met the heavy doorframe. With a single hand touching its handle, her head turned to face him again, black hair tumbling down freely.

"..I didn't catch your name."

She spoke these words softly, awaiting his response.
Perhaps he was one to watch.