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-A Moment Of Admission

Shoku.

Shiro wrinkled his nose at that. He had never been a huge fan of nicknames, particularly not of the unimaginative foreshortening. Still, he had to hand it to the man. He had enough tact not to address him by his given name. It seemed as though most people had forgotten the rules of formality that pervaded their culture, in the wake of the war. Though it was understandable, he had been raised to refer to people by their family name, and respectfully at that. It was a tradition that he still held to, even if it was beginning to disappear from usage.

A Kumo shinobi. How fascinating.

Shiro felt himself relaxing, if only a little. Though he held no affection for Kaminari no Kuni and its ilk, nor did he have any particular dislike for them. Kumogakure had participated in the Great War, of course, but they had been too far away to play a true role in the destruction of Kusagakure. They were not the ones that he took issue with. He rolled his neck, listening intently as the man spoke. It was a great opportunity to be able to hear from someone so... foreign.

“I am a shinobi of former Kusagakure, yes... This is my home.” Shiro turned his head slightly, looking away from the boy and out onto the fields. There was nowhere else in the world that he would rather live. This was his favourite place in the world. It was one of the only places were nature was more than tolerated; here, in Kusa no Kuni, the land was revered. “As for the beast...” Shiro paused for a moment, thinking. “You'll find it to the west, towards the centre of the country. It's quite something.”

“Good luck, if you intend to become involved in that catastrophe.”

-A Moment Of Commitment

Squish.

Shiro's feet alighted atop the softly yielding surface of a giant mushroom. It rose five meters straight into the air, spreading out into an umbrella that shaded an area as big as a house. He crossed his arms, looking out over the yellow-gold plains that stretched out before him. It rolled in gentle hills to the horizon, sloping away under the watchful eye of an orange sun. It was a beautiful day in Kusa no Kuni, the kind of idyllic afternoon that had become all too rare since the Second World War.

He tightened the straps that secured the gourd to his back. His bowie knife, too, was re-secured so that it rested tightly against his lower back. He was well rested and well-provisioned. As soon as the sun fell, his journey would begin. Just like he had said to Funikumi-san, he was going to find those who remained in their nation. Almost all of the shinobi of Kusagakure had been scattered to the wind, either killed over the years or assimilated into one of the same villages that had destroyed them.

Some of us, however, persevered.

Shiro frowned, settling down on the top of the mushroom. He crossed his legs, watching the sun slipping lower and lower. It would be night soon. He preferred to travel at night, when he could move more silently. In Kusa no Kuni, with the thick forests and tall grasses, a skilled shinobi who knew the land would be all but invisible wherever he went. Shiro laid back, looking up at the streaks of orange and purple coating the sky. It was days like this that made him happy he had chosen this country as his home...

-A Moment Of Enlightenment

Still alive.

So there was another, still living, who knew the Hiraishin technique. Shiro looked over the scroll again. If he could find the one who invented the technique, he could learn it for himself, and use it to take revenge on those who destroyed his nation. He could turn it against a village that had once used it against them. He would have to find out where this person was, of course. His journey was far from over. He had an inkling now, though, of what he had to do. There was an attainable goal on the horizon.

To defend against the power of the Bijuu..

“Shukaku,” Shiro said to himself. The One-Tail. With this, could he restrain the beast? He had seen it in action, under the control of a Jinchuuriki, during the war. He had seen the power of that beast. He wanted to control that power, so that it could be used for the good of his nation. He smirked to himself. Well, for his good as well. But what was good for him would be good for those who held his loyalty. That much was obvious. He took his torch and lit the scrolls on fire, destroying anything that would allow another to learn of the technique's origins.

He slipped out of the cave, shouldering his pack. Above him, the sun was reaching its highest point in the sky. Like that sun, he and his nation would climb above everything else in the sky, burning them into submission. Never again would he let his people be oppressed. The Five Great Nations. The Yonbi. Both of them had destroyed a village that couldn't fight back against them. He would turn their own strength against them. He brushed himself off, facing to towards the west.

“I will find you,” He said. “And you will teach me.”

-Exit

-A Moment Of Darkness

Shiro dug through the underbrush, cursing. It was especially thick in this area. Giant fungus grew all around, casting huge shadows that blotted out the sun. He was one hundred kilometres south of the village where he had discovered the journal, exactly as it had described. There were little mounds of stone all around this area, creating little hills and ravines in the depths of the forest. It was the perfect place to hide something. Any pile of rocks could be concealing a cave entrance, around here.

It was likely why Shiro couldn't find it at all.

He grit his teeth, digging through the thick ivy, pulling it back from another mass of stones. This was the fifteen pile he had investigated. At this point, he was ready to find nothing but solid stone again. This time, however, his efforts paid off. A small crevice, just wide enough for a man to fit into, gaped in the stone. Beyond it, pure darkness filled the hole. Shiro slid off his pack, striking a torch and tossing his gear in through the hole. It was too thin to get through while wearing his gourd.

He slipped in, holding the torch carefully away from the tall grasses. After a few moments of struggling, he was in. The cave was small, barely bigger than a single room. It was empty, save for a stone shelf at one end. There, a strange, three-pronged kunai sat. On the rough-hewn walls around it, ruined sheets of paper were pinned into the stone. Shiro came closer, gazing at it curiously. This had to be the cave he was looking for. He set the torch into a small divet in the wall, securing so that he could use both of his hands.

This has to be it...