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Blood waters (Chapter 23)
🕑 Added 2023-09-19 15:25:00 +0000 UTCChapter 23
The mornings were tranquil in the Village Hidden in the Mist. The thick mist would cover the village, making it hard for people to see through it. It was no different in the training ground where Utakata stood still. By his side, Harusame observed with an impassive expression, his arms folded across his chest.
Like any other skill, mastery comes with practice. Utakata would repeatedly perform the jutsu under Harusame's supervision, gradually refining his execution. It didn’t matter if it took hours or days. Utakata would repeat the same hand signs until he couldn’t feel his hands. It was different from what Utakata would usually do. It took a lot of patience from Utakata to do it.
“Have you learned what each sign does to mold your chakra?” Harusame asked. “It is complicated as the more hand signs a jutsu has, the harder it is to know how each works with the other hand sign you made before. Many top-class shinobi can use one-hand sign to create a jutsu while others have to make dozens for the same jutsu.”
“To do that, I need to learn the sequence of how my chakra moves to create a jutsu rather than the hand signs that help my chakra move to my will,” Utakata replied.
“Correct,” Harusame said. “But learning is only the beginning. Once you learn how the chakra must move, you can lessen the hand signs you must perform, as your chakra will move before that.”
“I think I'm getting to it.”
“No, you aren’t,” Harusame shot down Utakata’s confidence. “It is one thing to do while standing still and another in battle. The most important thing for any shinobi is concentration. If you lose it, you will lose your battle. Execute the Mist Blade jutsu for me, but this time, focus on minimizing chakra consumption and maximizing precision.”
Utakata did so, trying to use as little chakra as he could. A layer of mist soon covered Utakata’s hand, but only his fingertips were sharp. He slashed it through the air quickly and precisely, creating a clean, horizontal cut through the mist surrounding them. It was a testament to his progress, but Harusame quickly noted room for improvement.
“Instead of covering your hands with chakra, extend that chakra further from your fingertips. Reach can dictate how your fight will end. Repeat it.”
Utakata did as he was instructed, over and over again. Each time, he was a moment faster in activating the jutsu, and the mist blade was a millimeter longer. Hours passed as Utakata continued to repeat the jutsu. He could feel the strain in his muscles, but he knew mastery required relentless repetition, so he continued without a complaint. Harusame observed, offering guidance and corrections when needed.
“Utakata,” Harusame called out. “It's not just about the length of the blade; it's about its substance. Your chakra must flow seamlessly into it, like a river merging with the sea. It should be an extension of yourself.”
Utakata nodded, his determination unwavering. He understood that mere repetition would not lead to mastery. He needed to forge a connection between himself and the jutsu. His concentration deepened as he visualized the chakra flowing through him, precisely shaping the blade as he willed. It was never perfect, but he got closer to what he wanted each time.
As the day wore on, Harusame introduced variations to the training. Utakata executed the Mist Blade while on the move, simulating the unpredictability of a real battle. Harusame would throw stones at him, and he would have to cut them with Mist Blade. If the blade were too weak or he failed to sustain the jutsu long enough, it would hit Utakata’s hand.
It was a painful and brutal method, but Utakata would heal his wounds fast, and he had enough chakra to repeatedly do it for long periods. And each time Utakata would take a step forward in his training, Harusame would increase the difficulty. The sun hung low in the sky by the end of the day, casting long shadows across the training ground. Every movement Utakata made was calculated, every swing of the Mist Blade precise.
“Precision under pressure,” Harusame said, “is the hallmark of a true master.”
Utakata's breath came in a steady rhythm, his focus unbroken. The physical strain and pain from the rigorous training were secondary to the mental discipline he was developing. He realized combat was about raw power and maintaining a calm, clear mind. He would die in battle if he couldn’t do it in training.
With the setting sun painting the sky in shades of orange and crimson, Harusame signaled the end of the day's training. Utakata's body was weary, but his spirit was ablaze with newfound determination. He had made remarkable progress but knew he still had a long way to go. After all, it was only one jutsu he had somehow started to master.
“Don’t look too disappointed. It isn’t something that shinobi your age would learn,” Harusame said. “It takes years to master it, so even in my generation, there aren’t that many who can do it. But you are a jinchuriki and soon will be one of the Seven Swordsmen. They are the elite of the village, no matter how old they are. You will be expected to fight opponents on that level.”
Utakata nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts of improvement. He retreated to his quarters. Sitting in meditation, he reviewed the day's lessons, dissecting each movement and each correction Harusame had offered. There was no time to rest, as the Mist seemed calm. Beneath the tranquility lay the undercurrents of struggle within the village's leaders.
…
In the end, Utakata has not even seen the Third Mizukage with his own eyes even once. The man who has dictated most of his life was a mystery to Utakata. His funeral was grand but silent. The whole village came to offer their respect to him, but no one cried or said a grand speech of how great he was. Just like it began, the funeral ended in somber silence.
Utakata had mixed feelings about the man. He hated him for letting the village descend to this state, but on the other hand, he knew nothing of the man. Utakata wondered what kind of man the Third Mizukage was. What was his goals? Why did he do things like he did? What kind of person was the strongest shinobi of the Mist? Now, Utakata would never know.
Now, another man will replace him. I didn’t know when or how, but Yagura Karatachi was already chosen as the next Mizukage. And even though Utakata had seen and spoken with him, he knew little of him. He was considered the strongest in the village, but Utakata couldn’t even imagine his goals. But he knew what Yagura would do, whether he wanted it.
So far, it seemed that everything went as it was supposed to. Utakata didn’t learn much of the Mist or this period from his past life. But what he knew only scared him. He didn’t know when, but soon, a plan would commence using the three tails to destroy the Leaf. Then everything will go to shit. Utakata didn’t know when, and even if he knew, there wasn’t anything he could do to change it.
Utakata didn’t even know what he had changed, such as being here, if he did change anything at all. But he knew he had to be prepared. He needed to get stronger, as who knows what he will get involved with in the massacre of the clans. He didn’t know how it would start, so he couldn’t imagine how to stop it.
Leaving the village sounded lovely, but Utakata wasn’t confident he was enough to defend himself from the Hunter-nin that would come after him. And then there was the bounty on this head. So, he would need to stay far away from the Land of the Lightning. He would need to hide his identity and couldn’t reveal that he was a jinchuriki either. And even with all of that, the Akatsuki would soon come for him.
Sometimes, it felt like Utakata was trapped. He knew the future but couldn’t do anything about it. It was pure torture to destroy his will. It was hard to tell if it worked or not. He still tried his best to survive and grow stronger, but each day, he found less and less reason to continue struggling. If only he knew more about this village and time, maybe there would have been things he could have changed. But apart from the names, he couldn’t trust his knowledge.
…
Under the dim light of a secluded chamber deep within the Village Hidden in the Mist, Utakata stood alongside three other shinobi shinobi. Two he recognized as Zabuza Momoshi and Kisame Hoshigaki, the last girl he hadn’t heard nor seen of. She was short and looked impatient. She had long, red hair and black eyes. It was hard to tell her age, but she shouldn’t be more than a couple of years older than Utakata.
Now that Utakata thought about it, Kisame was the oldest of them. And the giant teenager was about sixteen or seventeen years old. He looked imitating with his shark-like features that Utakata didn’t dare to look at him for long. So, Utakata waited in the dark chamber with them, not knowing what he should expect.
“I hope you didn’t wait for long,” Utakata couldn’t help but feel a shiver run through his back as Yagura appeared from nowhere before him.
“Let’s be done with this. Give me Samehada that my master left,” Kisame said, not even a bit afraid of Yagura.
“That's why nobody like you, Kisame-kun,” Yagura walked past him to stand next to Utakata. “You don’t know when you should be afraid. Unlike you, look at Utakata. He knows I could kill him at any moment, and he can do nothing about it.”
The tension in the room was palpable as the four shinobi faced each other. Utakata was the youngest among them, his gaze unwavering despite the weight of the situation. He knew that Yagura was only reminding him of his position and warning others that he was still above them even if they became the Seven Swordsmen's next members.
“The previous masters of these weapons were quite pathetic,” Yagura continued. “They died so easily. We can’t have pathetic people like them among the elite. So, we first have to test you. Even though every one of you has gained some recognition for your feats in the war, it isn’t enough.”
“Then give the test away. It won’t be the first time I killed someone,” The girl said.
“Ameyuri Ringo, I know of your tendency to play with your prey,” Yagura turned to the girl. “You probably think you are strong. The previous master of Kiba blades taught you since you barely could walk, but I will tell you now. You are the weakest person in this room.”
“Ha, I could beat that brat over here shivering like a little kid at any time,” Ringo said. “And that brooding brat with no eyebrows doesn’t look too strong either.”
“Oh?” Yagura feigned surprise. “You think you can take on Zabuza, the Demon of the Mist, and Utakta of Blood Waters? The only reason why I still haven’t killed you and thrown your body into the sea is because Kiba blades are hard to control, and the previous master only taught you how to use them.”
“That's why I am telling you to drop this act and give me my blades.”
“Be quiet,” Yagura's voice was low, but Utakata could feel immense pressure coming from him, and it wasn’t even directed at him. Ringo was on her knees before Yagura, unable to handle the pressure. “I could just torture the information from you on using Kiba blades, but I will give you another chance, as it would take too much time.”
“What is our test?” Zabuza spoke for the first time.
“It is a simple one. Survive.”
With these words, Yagura left. At first, Utakata didn’t understand what he meant, but then he felt countless chakra sources coming to them. They varied in strength, but what concerned Utakata was their number. As the first ones entered his vision, Utakata could tell they were not people from the Mist. They wore tattered clothes, and their eyes only held desperation. Over their bodies, Utakata saw scars left by chains and torture. Utkata didn’t have time to discern who they were as they leaped at him like beasts.
