Outside Sunagakure, atop a towering plateau of yellow earth, stood an ancient temple. The temple's plaque bore the three gilded characters "Mōrin Temple," their bold and vigorous strokes exuding an aura of transcendent dominance.
In front of the plaque stretched hundreds of stone steps, and every visitor who came to light incense or pray marveled at the sight.
This was because, just over a decade ago, the temple had been situated on a flat, desolate stretch of desert at the edge of an oasis, its appearance old and unremarkable.
But now, the area surrounding the temple had been elevated into a circular plateau over two hundred meters high. The once barren yellow earth had been transformed into a lush and vibrant landscape, with trees sprouting leisurely from the cliffside.
In the rear courtyard of the temple, under a ginkgo tree.
Inside an old house shaded by the ginkgo's golden leaves, Sōmi stood behind an elderly monk, his hands glowing with a dense green mist as he pressed them against the monk's back.
"Master, you're not young anymore. Why are you still toiling with those sealing techniques?"
"You should focus on taking care of your health!"
Sōmi frowned, his tone filled with concern and reproach.
"Enough, enough," the old monk replied with a chuckle.
"Senior Brother Bunpuku and Junior Brother Bunshō both passed away years ago. Among those of us with the 'Bun' name, I'm the only one left."
"Life is full of eight sufferings: birth, aging, illness, death, separation from loved ones, prolonged resentment, unfulfilled desires, and inability to let go... Yet in my life, I've never suffered from serious illness, nor experienced unrequited love or overwhelming hatred."
"I am already very content."
The old monk's smile deepened, the wrinkles on his gaunt face resembling the crevices of weathered yellow earth.
Despite his withered frame, his long silver eyebrows and white beard, paired with his serene smile, gave him the air of an enlightened master, detached from worldly concerns.
Sōmi's thick eyebrows remained furrowed. His examination had confirmed that the old monk's condition was purely due to the natural decline of vitality with age, with no signs of illness or injury.
"Master..."
"If there were a way for you to continue living in a younger body..."
Sōmi hesitated for a moment before speaking, his tone uncertain.
The old monk turned his head to glance at Sōmi, surprised that his "disciple" had apparently mastered a secret technique capable of altering the course of life and death.
But the monk quickly turned back, his gaze settling on the pitch-black night sky outside. Though the darkness was profound, a few stubborn stars twinkled faintly.
He began to chant softly:
"The soul departs the path of life, the wandering spirit enters the gate of death.
Of the countless who leave, none return.
Steeds neigh in vain, flowers in the courtyard remain unplucked.
Seek the supreme path early, and avoid the mountains of suffering."
"Consciousness rises like a bubble, life is born of desire.
Once grown, how can one return to infancy?
Eyes follow the stars, lips do not seek the breast.
Lost in the true nature of Dharma, one is bound to samsara once more."
The old monk's chanting was calm and natural, devoid of any fear of death.
"Master..."
Sōmi gently placed a hand on the monk's shoulder, feeling only the dry, bony structure beneath, like the trunk of a tree that had weathered decades of desert sun.
"It's alright, Sōmi," the monk said.
"The world is but a traveler's inn for all beings, and time a fleeting guest of countless generations. Life is like a dream—how much joy can it truly bring?"
"Everything has its cause and effect. When the time comes, you need not grieve for me."
The old monk placed his rough hand on Sōmi's, comforting him instead.
"Then... Master, do you truly have no unfulfilled wishes?"
Tears glistened faintly in Sōmi's eyes. To him, this old monk, who had taken him in and raised him, was like a father.
Unlike typical monks stubbornly clinging to dogma, this master didn't rigidly treat the scriptures as eternal truths.
In teaching Sōmi Buddhist principles, the monk often found himself swayed by Sōmi's unconventional ideas, reflecting deeply on whether the scriptures themselves might be flawed.
This open-mindedness was why Sōmi held him in such high regard. The monk had always sought to explain the Dharma in ways Sōmi could understand, constantly learning and adapting.
After a long silence, the old monk, who had been gazing at the faint starlight in the night sky, suddenly turned to face Sōmi.
"There is one thing," he said, his eyes meeting Sōmi's.
"When I was young, I once made a grand vow before the Buddha. I vowed to surpass Senior Brother Bunpuku—not only to bear the darkness and spread the Dharma, but to become a great monk who could alleviate all the world's suffering."
"Uh..."
Hearing such an impractical wish, Sōmi's sorrow momentarily dissipated, replaced by an awkward struggle to suppress a laugh.
"Heh!"
The old monk chuckled, seemingly aware of Sōmi's thoughts.
"You think it's absurd, don't you?"
"But everyone has their youthful dreams."
"However, after traveling through various countries, I realized that such a goal was utterly unattainable. Greed, jealousy, lust..."
"These evils are deeply rooted in the human heart, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation, leading to endless conflicts and wars."
"Samsara continues, and so does war..."
"Years later, after the harsh realities of life shattered my naive dream, I returned to this temple, immersing myself in the sea of scriptures, hoping to find a feasible path."
The monk's voice suddenly faltered. Alarmed, Sōmi quickly checked his master's vital signs.
Realizing it was a false alarm, he exhaled in relief and asked, "So, Master, what do you think now?"
"Now..."
The old monk let out a long sigh.
"The First Hokage's methods were indeed flawed. Even now, the ninja world remains engulfed in flames of war."
"If someone could truly bring peace to the ninja world and create an environment where all beings could grow equally, I believe that person could only be you, Sōmi."
"But Master, haven't you always opposed my methods of using violence to counter violence?" Sōmi asked, puzzled.
"I did, but recently, I've come to understand."
"With the wrathful gaze of the Vajra, subdue the Four Demons; with the compassionate gaze of the Bodhisattva, show mercy to the Six Realms."
"To save all beings, one needs the power to suppress all the world's evil."
"So, Sōmi!"
The old monk's eyes suddenly gleamed with intensity as he stared deeply into Sōmi, as if trying to engrave his words onto Sōmi's very soul.
"No matter how terrifying the blood-red lightning of your methods may be, your heart must always remain that of a Bodhisattva. Never fall into the abyss of slaughter and hatred."
"That is my only wish!"
Sōmi didn't respond immediately.
After a long pause, he finally nodded firmly at the old monk.
"Good! Good!"
The old monk smiled, his face relaxing as he gestured for Sōmi to lean closer.
Puzzled, Sōmi bent down. When his head rested on the monk's shoulder, the old man placed his withered hand on Sōmi's forehead.
First, he gently closed Sōmi's eyes, then pressed his palm to Sōmi's brow.
Moments later, the monk began to chant a blessing:
"Om, Shudari, Shudari, Shumari, Shumari, Svaha..."
Perhaps it was an illusion, but Sōmi felt this chant differed from the familiar ones he had heard since childhood. Perhaps it was the solemnity of hearing it from a high monk himself.
Though the words were esoteric, the monk's enunciation was clear, carrying a unique rhythmic vibration, as if summoning divine miracles from the Pure Land of Bliss.
Sōmi felt a warm sensation spreading from his forehead, as though his very soul was being immersed in a steaming hot spring.
The comfort of the warmth, paired with the sacred chant, lulled Sōmi into a trance.
He didn't know how much time had passed when he suddenly snapped back to awareness.
The night outside was still pitch-black, the faint starlight now obscured by the dark veil of the night sky.
When Sōmi hastily turned to look at the monk, he found him reclining peacefully in his chair, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.
The monk's posture was far from the disciplined seated pose of a meditating high monk. Instead, he looked like an ordinary old man who had finally let go of his worldly concerns. His hands rested casually on the chair's arms.
When Sōmi, his hands trembling slightly, reached out to check the monk's breath, tears finally escaped his eyes, streaming uncontrollably down his face.
"Master...!"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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