Chapter 6 - No Stone Left Unturned

“(pant, pant). - …!”

SCHWING!

“Turning your sword on a young boy? Cowardly, even for scum like you! A boy who knows little of this world, yet faces his death as a man…clearly he is worth more than you can hope to be. Attack again and death shall become your mistress!”

Ryouko knew this scene- when he was seven, he had been cornered. A pregnant mother lay behind him, too weak to move. A sword turned on her would be fatal to her and that which she carried within. If Ryouko died, his parents would be sad, but if he died a hero’s death, they would understand. That was all it took. He wouldn’t move out of the way, no matter what.

Then he came. A blacksmith from town. Wielding the largest sword little Ryouko had ever seen, he had cut the enemy nearly in two. It was gut-wrenching, and Ryouko would be sick to his stomach for days- but he was alive. This man had saved him.

When the dying man attacked once more, the blacksmith’s sword slashed down, ending the injured man’s life. It was the next scene that would touch little Ryouko, and guide his heart:

Kishootsu wasn’t a murderer; he was a defender. Death was as natural as everyday life for him. Yet one thing set him apart from his fellow defenders-

He would cry for his enemy as well as his comrade.

“Death should be avoided whenever possible. Life is not something that should be freely taken if it cannot be returned.” Kishootsu shook the blood off his sword and replaced it in it’s sheath. His face was set in a stern expression, though a small tear of regret trickled down his cheek.

Kishootsu’s eyes turned toward the pregnant mother. It seemed that this trauma had induced labor.

“You, child! Fetch a towel and washcloth, and avert your eyes! Seeing a miracle is an excellent thing, but at your age, you may be scarred for life.” Kishootsu gave a kind smile, and Ryouko hastened to obey.

-

A baby? This was a baby? So small and squishy…Ryouko was still a child himself, and he was tempting to poke the squishy little…thing. Hard to believe this was a human life.

“You, child! Have you a name?” the blacksmith asked, holding the small baby. Little Ryouko stared at the child, not sure what to think.

Was I ever that tiny? And where’d it come from? It looked like a girl’s toy…

“Yes. My name is ------- -------- .”

“Oh? A swordsman’s name, to be sure! This child…is there another name your parents thought of for you? Or one you favor yourself?”

“…Kimihiro.”

“Then that shall be the child’s name. May this name reflect bravery, as yours will now. You’ve done me a great service today, ------- - kun. Saving a man’s wife and child; saving his world- it deserves a reward. Please name your desire.”

Ryouko hadn’t wanted or expected a reward. All the same, when the question was asked of him, he knew just what he would say.

“I want to be a swordsman. Please teach me, sensei.”

“So it shall be, little dragon. Return tomorrow at dawn. You needn’t bring anything but the clothes on your back, and the purity in your heart.”

In one day’s time, a birth of innocence and a death of evil. A show of hatred, and a show of the greatest kindness. Bloodshed was both a blessing and a curse.

--

Ryouko was waiting in Lord Hokage’s office, seating on a small cushion in the center of the giant room. He had dozed off for a minute in the heat, hence his strange (but true) dream. His sword lay across his lap, ready to be drawn. It was normally somewhat rude to sit like this outside of wartime, but Ryouko had fought so many battles already that he didn’t dare sit without his sword astride him.

The burn on his back ached, but he paid it no mind. Pain was a part of life. You could complain about it, or you could accept it’s reality gracefully. This pain would pass, Ryouko knew, so there was little complain about.

At last, Lord Hokage came in. With him was the bully chunin, Mizuki.

“Ryouko, this man says you assaulted him. Is this true?” Lord Hokage knew the truth of the matter, but he had to keep Mizuki quiet. It was also a test of Ryouko’s honesty.

“…In self-defense. No doubt it’s modesty that allows him to keep quiet about the length of his weapon in comparison to my own…” Ryouko closed his eyes, opening one at the end of his speech.

“WHAT?! I HAD NO WEAPON!” Mizuki howled in such anger that Lord Hokage put an arm on his shoulder as a warning.

“The burn on my back would seem to indicate otherwise, but it’s not my nature to call another a liar…if you had no weapon, then you were swinging an awfully big ‘nothing’ at me and two defenseless children.” Ryouko took a sip of tea, knowing full well that Mizuki was getting angry. It was Ryouko’s calmness that angered him first, but it was the fact that Ryouko was telling the truth that really burned him up. Now to drive the point home.

“Perhaps asking Sasuke Uchiha, a witness who came to my aid…”

Lord Hokage hid a smile. This was the story he had heard from Sasuke, although Ryouko put it infinitely more eloquently. That was called for in diplomatic situations- agreeing with someone, but using his words to make your own point. At no point had Ryouko denied the charges brought before him. Instead, he made them all valid and in his own favor.

Whoever trained the boy was clearly more than a swordsman…

“Very well. We’ll let this incident pass. But I expect no more trouble. Mizuki, you are dismissed. Ryouko, kindly stay for the time being. It’s long past time we sat down and talked over tea.”

-

Ryouko took a sip from his cup, turning the earthenware mug just so. As a swordsman, he was educated in many arts. The tea ceremony was one such art. It was much too feminine for Ryouko’s taste, in truth, but a swordsman with incomplete knowledge wasn’t a true swordsman.

“Ryouko, since you’ve come here, our village has changed. We lost two of our strongest Shinobi, and we’ve seen the growth of many others to fill the void. It’s made me wonder something- when you came here, what sort of changes had become of your life. Your family, your friends…”

Ryouko took a large gulp and had to cough. “My family is well. I couldn’t bring them with me, but I know they’re alive. Hidden safely from the enemies that are still out there. My teacher…I’ve so much regret when it comes to him…I tried to tell your healer, Tsunade, but I broke into tears. His last request to me…it was to kill him. To cut his head off and take it with me. But I’d never taken a life. My hand wavered…I couldn’t do it. My sensei forgave me, but I’ve never forgiven myself. I swore that I wouldn’t take a life, unless it became absolutely necessary. And when I did, when I took my first life, then Kishootsu-sensei could rest in peace. I took a head off a body on my way out of the village. I was hoping the enemies would believe I finished sensei.”

“Your sensei’s last moments must have been difficult, both for you and him. Let us move away from that topic. Have you recalled your name?”

Ryouko looked into his teacup. “…No, Lord Hokage.”

“Well, no need to be saddened. One can’t control one’s memories, after all. Being older, I’ve lost a great deal myself! Haha! Now then, are you enjoying life here?”

“I am. I know it’s strange, and kind of hypocritical, but I feel needed here. Like I can be of some use. And that really helps.”

“No doubt,” Lord Hokage said, taking up his pipe. He exhaled rich smoke, deep in thought. It’s hard to remember that he is still a child sometimes. He carries himself as though he is much older. I suppose his experiences have made him older in some ways…that in itself is a double-edged sword. In combat, he is invaluable. But in life, he may miss his childhood entirely. We are allowed but one childhood, and it should be taken advantage of. I need to encourage his growth. But it’s too soon to ask him to give up his sword and live a shinobi’s life…

“Lord Hokage…I don’t know if it’s okay to ask or not, but I’ve got this question…” Ryouko was uncomfortable asking this, but his curiosity was going to plague him until he did. “Who is…Orochimaru?”

If there was a question Lord Hokage hadn’t seen coming, it was this one. Without looking stern or surprised, the Third waved the question aside. “His tale is best left for another day. This one is too fine to ruin with dreary memories.”

Ryouko perked up for a moment. When he did, he looked like a ten year old child. With eyes ready to question the world, Ryouko asked to be excused. He had just gotten an idea, it seemed, and couldn’t wait to put it into action.

--

When Ryouko returned, it was late at night, and more than twenty hours since he had first had tea with Lord Hokage. He was coated in what looked like the remains of coal, and a headband was tied around his head. The package in his hand, however, was wrapped so carefully and handsomely that it belied it’s carrier’s looks. Lord Hokage gave Ryouko a curious stare. What had the boy been up to?

There were small cuts and burns all over the boy’s hands, face, and forearms. He was also sweating something fierce. But there was no sigh of battle…

Ryouko sank to his knees and bowed in deference to Lord Hokage. “It’s for you, Lord Hokage. It’s my first, so I don’t know if it’s quality, but it’s the least I could do to thank your hospitality…”

Lord Hokage took the package Ryouko offered. He opened it, and in his hands was a sword. Amazed, Lord Hokage pulled it out of it’s sheath. On the blade, near the collar, the word Hokage-to (Hokage blade) had been carved in. The blade was of quality (though not spectacular), and the sheath was made of wood, though it had steel inserts. But the work that had gone into the blade was obvious.

“The finest blade I’ve ever owned. Thank you, Ryouko. But how did you…”

“I just did what sensei used to do. I’ve never done it myself, so it took longer than I thought, but it was worth it. I’ve always wanted to make one, and I really couldn’t think of any other way to repay you…! Please excuse me! I’d nearly forgotten my training! By your leave, sir…”

Ryouko ran out of the room, his sword in tow. Immediately, Lord Hokage was suspicious. That soot on his face was no accident…He deliberately smudged it on. That means he’s up to something…

--

Ryouko put his sword through his belt, tied a leather pouch to the back of his hakama, and stuffed it full of weapons and rations.

Can’t believe it…but I have to. Having that dream made me realize something…It’s impossible, I know, but I have to see for myself. I can’t just let sensei down…I’ve got to know…did Kimihiro make it? The bodies will still be there, and we had only the one child birth…
…
I’ll never believe unless I see for myself. I will return here afterward. But I’ve got to know. It’s just something I must do.

The last thing in Ryouko’s little hand was a list. It was a sheet of guidelines Kishootsu had given him when he first started training. In essence, it was a list of how to master this style of swordsmanship. Given that this was one of the few records of his training, Ryouko treasured it. He folded it carefully and put it away. It was time to venture into the land of his nightmares. Sentiment wasn’t something Ryouko could afford.

--

The village had been burned, of course. Ryouko could still see the fires being started. Where there was once a farmhouse, now there were heads on pikes. They had rotted and since been mostly devoured. The animals themselves had been eaten by the enemy, it seemed. The remains of chickens and cows were all over the place. They were intermingled with human remains.

Ryouko saw the blacksmith’s shop. It was the most in-tact of all the buildings, having been built the sturdiest. One side of the building had been blown out by fire, and tools were scattered around. The anvil Kishootsu had used to make swords had been used as a grill. The coals were overturned, and the hearth had long been broken. The other three walls of the building were in tact, and part of the roof had stayed in place, though it was charred beyond repair. But, strangely enough, there were signs of use in the building. Ryouko’s eyes teared with hope- had sensei somehow lived? In a child-like haze, Ryouko took off, waiting for Kishootsu to be standing inside the building. He would say ‘Right on time, little tiger’, just like always. He would have his sword ready to go. His wife would have made onigiri and skewered negi. She would greet Ryouko with a kind smile. Little Kimihiro, now three years old, would be playing in the background. He would wobble over to Ryouko and motion to be picked up. He would sit on Ryouko’s shoulders until it was time to train.

Only it didn’t happen.

The inside was as destroyed as the outside. There was broken glass all over, and bloodstains as well. Ryouko had to close his eyes, feeling tears welling up despite himself. He had promised himself that he would stay strong. Some blood wasn’t going to crack him.

But something was wrong. There were fish bones all over. There was no way an army would have eaten fish with all the good meat around. Even more strange- the bones weren’t decayed beyond two or three days. That, coupled with the signs of use, put Ryouko on his guard.

Clack!

Ryouko spun, his hand ready to draw as he heard the sound. But he stopped dead.

A small boy, no more than three, was standing in the way, holding the fireplace skewer like a sword. Behind him was a person, lying on the ground. It was clear to Ryouko that she was dead. At least now he knew what had become of Kimihiro’s mother. But the boy…

“K-kimihiro?” Ryouko said in disbelief. The little boy opposite him- tall for his age, with jet black hair. Aside from two monthes of hunger, he was built like his father. The eyes confirmed it- they were just like Kishootsu’s.

“Ryo-sempai?! RYO-SEMPAI!” Kimihiro threw the fireplace poker aside and ran to Kimihiro, leaping up into his chest. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Kimihiro, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Ryouko hugged Kimihiro, still so surprised that anyone so young could have survived.

“Now that you’re here, you can help my mom, sempai! She’s over here!” Kimihiro tugged on Ryouko’s hand, dragging him over to the woman Ryouko had seen before. “She hasn’t talked in two days, but she’ll wake up for you!”

Ryouko, of course, knew better. Death was permanent. But how to explain that to a three year old? At ten, Ryouko didn’t really understand himself.

“Kimi-chan, did she help you all this time?”

“Nuh-uh. Some nice men brought us fish and water every day! They said daddy’s alive, and they’ll bring him back!”

Oh no…it’s a trap! I’ve got to get Kimihiro out of here!

Ryouko picked Kimihiro up. “Come on, we’ve got to go. I’ll come back for your mom, okay? She’s asleep right now, and I don’t want…want to wake her. But I’ve got a place for you to live now. But we’ve gotta hurry, or…”

Ryouko stopped. He put Kimihiro down. “Go to your mother, okay? Whatever you do, don’t look this way. Promise me…”

“Ryo-sempai…”

“Promise me!”

Kimihiro didn’t understand, but he ran off, doing as Ryouko said.

-

Ryouko made sure Kimihiro was gone. When he raised head, he was the warrior again.

“You. Out of the bushes. Now. ALL of you,” Ryouko ordered in a whisper.

“Now is that anyway to treat that poor little child’s saviors? This is the thanks we get for keeping him alive until you, his deserter, came? Too bad his mom didn’t live…she was a lot of fun for us. Such a pretty woman, and so skilled! What a wonderful wife she would have made! But she made a fine mistress! HA HA HA!”

Ryouko’s eyes widened, and his body began to shake. No…no…no! This is wrong! This is all wrong! How could this have happened?! Why did it happen?! I left them…I left them, and they needed me! Because of me…because of me she’s dead and humiliated…and Kimihiro is orphaned…no. Please, don’t let this be my fault! I’ve got to fix this!

One enemy had a chain. One had a spear. The other two had swords. It was nowhere near a fair fight.

“You used them as bait to get to me…but why?” Ryouko questioned, looking for an opportunity to attack. The spear and chain needed to go…

“Truthfully, we wanted to torture that sensei of yours. But you’ll do just as well. You caused us a lot of trouble. You and that stupid training sword. I can’t wait to see it rust inside you!”

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