Taka
Posts : 150
Join date : 2017-05-06
 |  Subject: To be a Shinobi  Sat May 13, 2017 2:03 am | |
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Hitori laid across his firm bedding, his recently earned Kirigakure Headband grasped in both hands. He stared at the engraving of the proud village symbol. It was a symbol that held a different meaning to each of its bearers, but Hitori knew what it really meant. He was a weapon of Kirigakure. It was ironic, considering his ideals. He knew that he would take many lives. He only hoped that he could save more than he would claim. It was an unusual disposition to have for a shinobi. Hitori reflected on how it could have come about.
His earliest memories were bleak. He grew up in an overpopulated orphanage that was doubled as a refuge for many who recently had their village destroyed by a giant monstrous wolf. He was such a child.
The orphanage was a broken down building full of severe cracks and collapsed walls, and nests for small rodents and birds. The smashed in windows provided little protection from the elements and saw to that the inhabitants spent most nights huddled in an uncomfortable mass of body heat through storms and cold nights.
Despite how unappealing it looked Hitori wound have given an arm or leg to be part of it, but for whatever reason he always found himself to be excluded from the majority of the group. Shunned, even. He spent most nights shivering in the corner alone, wondering just how cold you needed to be to die. Worse still was the starvation. It was an unimaginable feeling; as if your stomach desperately gouged at itself to nourish your fleshless, skeletal body.
As the group grew and the food lessened it became apparent that not everyone would live. Friends were very supportive of one another in times of need, as were mothers nurturing of their children. It was those who were alone that struggled with survival. Hitori was one such person. Food was distributed unfairly to families and larger groups, leaving the weak and forgotten to starve. They knew he would die.
The loneliness was unbearable too. He spent some nights speaking with a broken mirror, wanting to believe his reflection was another person, possibly a brother. There were times he convinced himself that his reflection moved too... But more likely he was just delusional. He had dirty unkempt black hair, and an even dirtier face. Under the dirt however was a soft and round face, that later grew to harden against the harsh environment. He was thin and weak, his starvation worsening his already frail body.
Five days without food and Hitori felt the instinctive necessity of hunting for his food. Although he was a mere skeletal five year old boy with barely enough strength to carry his own weight, he saw what happened to those who gave up.
He understood why they gave up, too. The thought came to him many times, but Hitori was a particular coward who feared death more than starving. He desperately attempted to catch wildlife; the small meatless rabbits that plagued the area proved to be ten times as dexterous than him. Cursing his luck, Hitori even tried to eat grass and dirt. His saddest memory was being curled up in a lifeless snowfield, shivering and crying with a mouthful of dirty snow.
This time of hopelessness and relentless starvation was probably the first in which Hitori first heard the voice speak to him. A tiny voice, so feint in fact that Hitori doubted it altogether, but the second time he was certain. That was the first time he heard Okami. She didn't speak words, but her voice conveyed thought. They were subtle at first. Suggestive of what he should do. She was helpful. Hitori thought that he was going mad.
Through the guidance of Okami's mastery of hunt, Hitori was able to successfully trap and kill a rabbit. He was so starved that he ate it there in the red snow under the leafless skeleton of a cherry blossom tree. It was the single most glorious moment in his life, and the most sickening, and for some reason very miserable. Hitori took a life so that he could live for a few more days. The consumption of the raw meat physically hurt. He could remember his hysterical sobbing as he ate, unsure whether it was from happiness or despair.
Life was a precious thing. Hitori had seen death. He listened to the cries of childless mothers and saw the bodies of other children buried far too early... But most were those alone and vulnerable. They were natural deaths, but such for such a simple reason. If the masses feigned ignorance and turned a blind eye while others died... Didn't that make them just as bad as murderers?
Hitori tucked the headband away and sat up on his bed. The heavy rain began to ease away. The young genin peered out of the window and observed the proud city of Kirigakure. Full of rogues, thugs and murderers. Filth of the Earth. Hitori would one day rid the streets of the scum. Or so he dreamed. | |
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Aurianos
Posts : 188
Join date : 2017-04-03
| | Subject: Re: To be a Shinobi Sun May 28, 2017 10:21 pm | |
| Wordcount: 914
Comments: Warning, Genocide imminent
Rewards: 6 Tokens, 1 Level or stat | |
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