Chapter 14: Return
"You can't grasp what's ahead if you're still clinging to what's behind."- Unkown
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Raito stepped onto familiar ground, the soles of his worn sandals brushing the well-trodden path leading up to the gate leading into the courtyard.
After days spent camping under purple skies, soot-filled air, and an unending amount of negative intentions the bat people always seemed to exude, the now familiar presence of the school courtyard felt like a balm, a soft wave washing away the excess paranoia from his being.
He could vaguely make out the sounds of late practice and exercise. It made him feel like he was somewhat in control of at least a bit more of his near future.
It was wonderful to once more be among comparatively more innocent-minded people. Especially when you could innately discern less-than-noble intentions before they got close.
The [Mind's Eye of the Kagura]. Which he had somehow discovered during his final moments back in the clan, had finally re-emerged.
A good thing, too, as it was responsible for his inherent ability to detect lies.
It was a technique inherent to his mother's (or former mother's clan) that had seemingly followed him from the ninja world. It relaxed almost like an over-strained muscle the moment he stepped out of the underworld.
It had gotten more pronounced the last couple of years. Eventually becoming prominent enough to appear on the status screen.
"Speaking of which..."
*Blink*
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_________
Name: Raito Uchiha
Age: 9++
Rank: lesser Jonin
Title: Uchiha Clan Member, Thief, Mercenary.
[Uchiha Bloodline]
[Sharingan: Tier 3
[Uzumaki Bloodline]
[Mind's Eye of the Kagura]
...
[Samsara]{Locked}
Money: 150,359,807 Ryo
Evaluation:
Jonin at 9? Impressive.
However, your habit of training despite the grievous wounds you occasionally receive is overly intensive. It encourages bodily collapse. However, your latent Uzumaki physique (insufficient as it is) kicked in just in time to prevent any lasting injuries to your body or Chakra. Count your lucky stars. Your lifespan remains the same. You are currently unlikely to end up looking like Nagato Uzumaki. Note that this could easily change if this behavior continues.
Advice:
Now that you know that straining your body further would be detrimental, you are advised to wait a few years. If you insist on no rest, focus on other areas not involving further rigorous bodily conditioning.
I see you have saved up a small fortune there. So, what's next?
/////////
'What next, huh?' Bodily training would have to be put on hold.
I suppose I'll focus on jutsu.
'[Samsara] somehow remained locked throughout all this time. No changes on that front yet either...'
'Still, it is true that I shouldn't push my luck too hard.
Life-threatening mercenary work combined with intensive training for years on end. I'm not a machine, unfortunately... Let's put further work on hold.'
I do have some good news though, I finally have enough funds to truly start one of my projects. Now that I have confirmed that this worlds Naraka is completely different from... That Place, I now know that making it back home won't be as simple as I thought it would.
Therefore, new plans must be made. Since I cannot trace a route back home from the Underworld, I am turning my hopes towards Nature/Earth. Namely [Senjutsu].
Not only would this make me stronger, it would bring me closer to achieving my goals.
However, Senjutsu in this strange world has proven to be far too... erratic, often leading practitioners to madness instead of doing the normal thing and just turning them into stone statues.
...
'Wait, I think there was something wrong with that thought process...' I momentarily pause before shaking off distractions.
Anyway, I would prefer to work with something at least a bit familiar.
A form of Senjutsu that I had at least attempted to work with a bit back home. To... various degrees of success.
I repeat, Senjutsu is dangerous.
"Danger" being emphasized with a capital Dfor both the user and whoever is unfortunate enough to have it used on them.
The peril is somewhat alleviated by the sheer rarity of Senjutsu users back home. Chances of running into one were around the same chance of getting struck by lightning in broad daylight. Almost nonexistent.
You'd have to be particularly unloved by the Sage to run into an enemy who could use the [Sage Arts] to some degree.
I've personally never had it used on me, at least not with lethal intent...
However, I have witnessed its effects during training/sparring.
I even have a basic understanding of how to get it to work.
Lord Jiraya had attempted to impart this knowledge. It only cost me a couple of H-books and some hot springs coupons and he was happy to do it.
Turns out that the village was always on the lookout for new sages and the Uzumaki bloodline was quite in tune with natural energy.
But then, it turned out that I was an even poorer sage than him. Combined with the fact that the frogs were unwilling to accept a Uchiha as a contractor Uzumaki or not.
I was then 'politely' advised to look towards other avenues for strength.
"Sigh... whatever."
Since most of the obvious routes home are blocked, and I finally have all the materials I need, everything now relies on:
...
The name is still a work in progress.
///////// Change perspective //////////
The dojo's wooden frame stood tall and reassuring, its roof sloping protectively over the entrance. Around it, the late afternoon sky stretched out, pale blue tinged with amber as the sun sank lower. A faint breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the subtle scent of pine and the distant whisper of rain from somewhere deep in the mountains. The place had barely changed. Every stone, every tree, seemed just as he had left it, except the pond.
The pond containing but two fish. One Black, with a singular White circular scale on the crown of its head. The other pure White with a similarly singular Black circular scale on the exact same place.
Throughout these couple of years, I have never seen them once break routine.
Both ever swimming in an endless circuit chasing the other's tail. Not too slow, not too fast. Always at a steady pace.
Their mere presence bestowed a strange feeling of tranquility almost bordering on hypnosis the longer one stared at them.
'Sensei never did explain what is up with those fish.' Raito thought, pushing down his curiosity as he made his way past the pond and towards the dojo's sliding door.
*Creak...*
He pushed open the gate to the inner courtyard, which creaked slightly in protest, and stepped inside.
The courtyard was relatively quiet.
A few scattered students were practicing their forms, moving in rhythmic, deliberate motions under the watchful eye of an instructor who had clearly noticed his arrival.
With frown and a huff followed by a dismissive nod, the instructor acknowledged him, with a silent "You again".
Similar to Raito himself, over the course of the past two years, he had aged a bit as evidenced by a few more white hairs sprouting from his beard.
Unfortunately, he remained as bald as ever. Looking like an "Un-tanned, Chinese Nick Fury"
'Maybe it's just stress...'
Raito reasoned as he nodded, returning the greeting.
Despite the fact that they might not have gotten along as well as they could have, as the man seemed to dislike Raito for one reason or the other, as an educated member of the Uchiha clan, common courtesy had been ingrained in him for a long time.
Ignoring the overly intense/ bordering on disapproving gaze of the instructor, Raito then made his way toward the student quarters to organize himself.
As he walked down the hallway, memories from before his trip came rushing back.
The late nights spent practicing on scrolls by candlelight, idly spinning and juggling a shuriken in one hand, the early mornings when the wooden floor was cool against his bare feet as he went through kata under the watchful eye of Sensei.
The idle chatter amongst the students during class contrasts with the silence of his isolation.
Strength being the number one priority, he studied as hard as he possibly could have ignoring everything and everyone not relevant.
It had borne fruit as he was now a symbol of excellence amongst his fellow trainees. As expected of a direct disciple of Lian-Yu. Even till date, none of his fellow dojo mates had managed to best him in a spar. Not for a lack of trying.
However, it came with a side effect as he had now been put in the same "Aloof" category as the Principal Clan heirs despite them not even attending the same schools.
"U-uchiha-sama." x2
The few trainers he passed on the way to his destination stuttered quick and respectful greetings before giving him a wide berth, then hurrying off to Kami knows where. Not even giving enough time for a return greeting.
'I know what strict hierarchy is, but not even the lowest Clan members were like this...' Raito regretfully watched them scurry off. If they had stayed a bit longer, he could at least have learned a bit about the state of things during his period of absence.
Resuming his stride, Raito didn't call them back.
'No point in making things difficult for them...'
As a dojo specialized in the training of Samurai/Swordsmen primarily to serve as aides for either the Yokai Matriarch, guards in service of one of the Principal clans, or even as disciples of some Sect in China. They learned pretty quickly who and who not to interact with.
Unfortunately, Raito somehow registered as the latter.
Continuing, he then passed by a small shrine where incense still burned before a statue of an Unknown man, the smoke filling the hall with a subtle fragrance that blended with the faint scent of old wood. It was a place where his sensei often came to pay respect.
'How unusual. He left a bit earlier.' Raito noted with a bit of suspicion.
As a creature of habit, his teacher should at this moment, be kowtowing before this shrine as is typical of around this period of the day.
But now looking closer...
Candles, usually carefully arranged, were now toppled over.
A bowl of rice lay with its contents spilled.
Wooden talismen were strewn across the floor as if tossed in a fit of disappointment.
The statue though... the statue remained untouched.
Only three people were allowed this deep into the masters private residence. Of whom only one ever paid respects here.
Therefore, it wasn't difficult to guess who did this.
'Strange. This hasn't happened before. A bad day?'
(Sigh...)
Grabbing a broom from nearby, Raito went to work.
/////////////////////////////////////
As Raito stepped into the innermost courtyard, he noticed that the atmosphere felt heavier than usual.
'Something happened...' he concluded.
He saw Lian Yu outside, watching the practicing disciples, a steaming cup of tea in hand. Beside him, Suzaku Himejima poured tea into another cup, her movements precise as ever.
She saw him first, her eyes lit up in what could only be... relief?
Before catching herself and smothering any visible reaction. She then wordlessly returned her attention to the China on the table.
'The silent treatment, huh... Glad she's doing all right. I guess...' Raito inwardly sighed before moving on.
"Sensei," Raito greeted softly as he approached, the strain of his recent travels evident in his voice. Lian Yu's gaze shifted, his expression softening at the sight of his pupil.
"Raito," the master replied, gesturing for him to take a seat.
"You've returned in one piece, I see... Welcome back, my disobedient student." His tone was accusing, yet holding an underlying current of concern, as if he could sense the things Raito had done the past month.
He then gestured to one of the two seats across from him.
"What can I say? I came back better." Raito replied in his own defense.
"Hmm... That you did." The School head scanned him from head to toe, humming before dismissing the matter.
However, the same couldn't be said about the girl now right next to him.
She placed down a teapot and quickly scanned his form. Her eyes eventually zeroed in on his side.
The gash had scabbed over and he was no longer favoring one leg, however, the same couldn't be said for his clothes.
'Sh*t I forgot to change...'
"You said you wanted some time off. I had assumed that it was to rest..." She coldly hissed, wisps of smoke escaped her hair. Luckily no sparks... Yet.
Moving over, she inspected the wound. Fingers lightly tracing the scab. I suppressed a shiver.
She frowned as she retrieved some ointment from her sleeves. A habit I swear she copied from me.
"So... What else are you lying about?" She offhandedly asked while applying it.
I felt a bit of annoyance at being called a liar.
However, it wouldn't do to get snappy with the medic, so I gave no response.
"As your lord, am I not worthy of an explan-"
"Suzaku." Sensei's voice calmly interrupted from the side.
"Hai Jii-sama..." She reluctantly dropped the matter though not before completing her work, then giving me a scathing glare.
She instead picked up the cup of cooling tea in front of her and sipped.
A little too harshly...
...
It hadn't always been like this, but two years is a not-so-insignificant amount of time.
Enough for one to change, apparently.
From the silent treatment when we first met, to her showing a bit too much interest in my training.
To even barring me oftentimes.
Apparently, she sees it as her duty to make sure that all her "aides" are in the best health that they can be.
Thus, as a reoffending bleeder on the training ground, I eventually make it to the top of her sh*t-list.
Resulting in the occasional lecture.
To be fair, she is correct. I might even agree with her somewhat.
However, I have a F̶̳̯̰̼̃ȋ̷̺̰̞̠̗͋̑̉̄̉l̶̦̗̯̑̓̌̽̚ͅt̵̛̗̤͂͐͒̕̚h̸̭̉̌̾̆͠ỷ̷͔̻̬̩͌̑̚͘͠,̵̣̝̳̄̌̿̋̎̍ ̸̘̇̉G̴͕͉̰͇͌̎̈́̆͝e̴͎͍̓n̸̼͆̚ō̷̘c̸̗͉͔͂̌̒̃͂i̸̦̒̌̅͌͘̕a̴̜̤͕̤͎̼͋̎̔͝d̵͖̙͔̹͔̓̏ǎ̷͈̻̤̜̘̩͗̐̏̀͝l̵̨̏̿̓͛͋̀ ̷͉̩̠̭͖̈̽̃̃͂̄e̸͎͐x̸̢̦͙̹͎̋̓c̴͕̈̊͑̕͝u̸̧̦͙̠̿́͒͒s̴̨̯̪̦̣̃̎̍́̽ȩ̴͔͍́ͅ ̸͓͐ǫ̸͔̥̿̃̾̾̓͝f̸̩͇̠͌ ̷̯̱̰̭̭̱͐͠ạ̸̲̗̑͂n̴̘͆̚ ̷̡͈̟̤͈̍̌͐A̸̯̖̩̕ņ̴̇̑̎͆̕ͅĩ̸͚͉͙̫̾̃͐̚ṃ̵̨͒̇̐̔͘ą̸͈̘͍̜́̀̐̿͘͝l̴͔̋͠ skulking around somewhere back home and regrettably, he's stronger than me.
Every bit of preparation counts.
Thus, we could not agree.
Now that I think of it, we have dealt with a lot together.
From assassination attempts by rogue Ayakashi/Yokai factions
To the "Vigorous" recruitment pitches from the occasional devil.
It was ... frequent. Even for a princess.
But then, it's probably true to this being some sort of anime world as previously suspected. Don't dismiss it as impossible.
If finding myself throwing Kunai and dodging fireballs because i'm no longer an office worker, and I now work for a sect of red-eyed ninja wizards is within the realm of possibility, I guess being in a lame shounen is also on the table.
I suppose it's only normal for someone who could very well be the heroine of some ecchi shounen to be abducted or ambushed every couple of weeks.
For all I know, I could be in the middle of some weird plot where she is secretly the vessel of some fire goddess/demon, some magician cult attacks her and her squad of friends. Causing them to fight a cultish magician organization.
Then in the end, against all logic, they emerge victorious in a brawl against even the most long-lived experienced magicians.
'Victory born by the power of friendship and bonds...' I consider how something like that can even happen.
'What kind of Jutsu would be required to imitate something like that?...' I lightly shake my head banishing stray thoughts.
Re-focusing now.
If that's the case, feeling some sort of camaraderie with your partner is excusable with the circumstances in consideration.
Taking a glance at my troublesome client as she sat, sipping tea under the watch of the ever-creeping dusk.
I did not understand this girl.
Suzaku Himejima had the poise of someone born into tradition and trained never to falter. I'm not entirely sure what is going on in that clan of hers, but they must be quite competitive.
She had a measure of extreme distrust of strangers, combined with habitually looking over her shoulders.
'As it should be. She was trained well.' I nodded in approval
Her posture was almost flawless, even as she slightly leaned over the steaming ceramic cup.
She wore the formal garb of a shrine maiden—white haori over deep crimson hakama. When it came to her, everything always seemed to be in place.
Even the way the sleeves hung at her sides seemed calculated. It wasn't just clothing on her—it was armor, ritual, identity.
Her demeanor matched the rest of her: composed, restrained, dignified. She didn't fidget or speak without purpose. When she turned her head, it was slow and measured; when she looked at someone, it was with the full weight of expectation. Everything about her said she was someone who didn't merely follow tradition—she embodied it.
Point is,
She is at liberty to bond with whoever she likes.
'Just not with me.'
Our
I inhale some vapor and allow the steam to wash away the residual tension.
The evening settles into silence, accompanied by the occasional sipping.
(End chapter)
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Yo. Been a while right? here's an easy going chapter to flesh out some things a bit. Hope you like it.
Still a while plus a series of events before canon. This is AU so ages might not all match up.
Mechaheart out!
P.S: Should the Pokemon fanfic be brought back and continued? Please vote:
1) Yes
2) No