Post by Hero on Jul 2, 2018 1:59:43 GMT
Over fifty years ago an omen of the world's demise was born in the scorching sands of Sunagakure. In this time it was governed by a council of economists that mined and exploited their own people for selfish profit, deceiving the people into believing their actions were in their best interests. Bandits, rogues, and mercenaries with no moral-compass called this village their home. It was a world where truly the strong thrived, and the weak fell to illness, death, or disappeared altogether. Those who refused to become shinobi worked in the mines on the outskirts of the main village, and those who couldn't do that, became scavengers and survivalists. Kaede Yamagata, born to the tragedy of his ill and immediately deceased mother, knew only his father, a member of the council, and the tragedy of the common people. Wealthy, and largely isolated from the struggles of the world around him, Kaede was an optimistic, aspiring shinobi, that felt a disconnect from the people as large as a canyon. While they smiled, laughed, and appeared full of joy with him around, there came a time when he grew older and began to realize that this was not the true world.
In this time there were four prodigies, all very different, but with a few remarkable similarities. They all were highly-skilled, of similar age, and all of their names started with a “K”. When the notoriety of the four shinobi trainees became news throughout the village, Kaede being one of them, his life began to change.
First his father disappeared, alongside two others in the council of seven. It happened suddenly and without warning, and left many questions but little answers, atleast, none that Kaede could find. Then riots began to spread throughout the sands, from the village all the way throughout the region, shinobi battling with their own kind, two ideals coming to the forefront. The Masemuro faction was devoted to the capitalists and the worshipers of the tradition that had been since the death of the Kazekage, and the Hitemori faction, dedicated to the civil equality of all people, and to bringing down the government who believed them to be ignorant.
Caught in the middle of the civil war, the escalating crime, the wealth of his family that suddenly deteriorated into nothingness, and his souring view of the world, Kaede slowly but surely began to become the metamorphosis of who he was to truly be.
Years would pass, and while once he was the strongest of those within his unit, known as Team 0, the K Team, he eventually became the weakest of them all. Kazura, Kagiroi, Karasu...their names began to sting anytime they were spoken. Desperately seeking to differentiate himself, he lunged headfirst into battle with reckless abandon, nearly dying many times, yet everytime he prepared himself for the sting of death, someone, or something was there to save him.
Why? Why was he kept alive? Why was he here? If he couldn't be the strongest, he didn't want to exist at all. One night he lay in the sands outside of the village, alone, waiting for something, anything to take him. A chuunin of renown, his power was great, but nothing in comparison to his brethren whom had grown, and Kazura whom had become an exceptional Jonin.
Then it happened. Without his knowledge fierce explosions began to ring from the village, forcing his heart to skip a beat.
What followed was the final battle in the once perpetual war for dominance. And whom else to lead it than Kazura himself, secretly becoming a face of the Hitemori faction after her death.
Unwilling to accept the crumbling of everything he ever knew, he left the village, wandering, starving, until he felt the pale hand of death itself whisper to him.
If you are weak, just die.
Oi' kid. Hey! Hey kid!~
“...” Kaede stood quiet in empty reflection, his eyes far removed from the canyon that he stood before, instead looking to the horizon beyond. Below was nothingness, as if someone had taken the sword of God and layed it into the land, canyon was formed where land should have been, forming an incredibly large crevice in the crust of the earth. Hundreds of miles deep, and hundreds of miles wide, he struggled to imagine what could have created this, but of everything he knew, only one thing was capable. Only one man. The man who had saved him in the sands that very night, and guided him to his destiny. A drunken, old, and stubborn fool who's power was greater than any he had ever met till that day. There was no one with the martial prowess, or the knowledge of chakra like he, and that was why he would one day make him his powerful, and greatest secret.
“...what was so powerful that you went and killed yourself, you disobedient fool.” Kaede questioned aloud, attempting to piece it together. Was Bishanoten not the true mastermind? He seemed powerful in his own right, with only Oni able to deal a truly decisive blow, but was there perhaps a greater enemy that was orchestrating from behind the scenes? Kaede hated to imagine that there were variables that he'd be unable to account for due to his lack of knowledge, but the truth was, this was a mixed bag. While it feared him with adrenaline that something so powerful could exist, a challenge unlike any they could find in their world of old, atleast in the state that it existed— this also meant that there was a legitimate chance that his dream would never come to fruition. With Akuma's departure, they were no doubt more vulnerable to whatever it was Sortez had released The Forbidden Chakra to, and to sacrifice his life? All times before he would have run and reported the information...this was something closer to home.
Much like the Eight Chakra Gates, the Forbidden Chakra was a hidden shinobi taijutsu technique that involved the utilization of senjutsu and taijutsu together, along with impeccable meditation, to facilitate a level of power that superseded the eight gates themselves for a short period of time. While stronger, the mortality rate, especially for someone who's chakra centers were already fractured, was almost zero. Not even Kaede had dared to learn the technique himself, being unable to steel his mind, or allow himself to take unnecessary risks before he arrived to the metaphorical finish line.
Any emotional attachment that remained in his world belonged to three people. And one of them was gone.
“W-what the heeeeell?!” he roared to himself. While tears streamed down his cheeks stained with black blood, his reaction was one of frustration. “You fuckin' weak fool! Why are you crying! I'll fucking kill you!”
If anyone were watching, Kaede was certainly a head case. It was hard for anyone that wasn't Rin to understand that his psyche had been fragmented when he passed through the metatemporal gateway to Izral, and so the weaker, softer, younger, naive side of him was crying for the loss of Sortez. A mortal plea by a weak, mortal being.
Kaede had long since ripped the rags of his celebratory attire, and wore nothing more than black slacks and straw flip-flops underneath. Chiseled and covered in sweat and dry blood from his battle with Oni, and even Vartes, it was strange that he had the stamina still to stand and move.
“The moment I get the chance,” he whispered to himself, “I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to kill whoever killed Sortez. Do you understand me?”
Then, with his hands stuffed into his slacks, he watched the sun rise.
In this time there were four prodigies, all very different, but with a few remarkable similarities. They all were highly-skilled, of similar age, and all of their names started with a “K”. When the notoriety of the four shinobi trainees became news throughout the village, Kaede being one of them, his life began to change.
First his father disappeared, alongside two others in the council of seven. It happened suddenly and without warning, and left many questions but little answers, atleast, none that Kaede could find. Then riots began to spread throughout the sands, from the village all the way throughout the region, shinobi battling with their own kind, two ideals coming to the forefront. The Masemuro faction was devoted to the capitalists and the worshipers of the tradition that had been since the death of the Kazekage, and the Hitemori faction, dedicated to the civil equality of all people, and to bringing down the government who believed them to be ignorant.
Caught in the middle of the civil war, the escalating crime, the wealth of his family that suddenly deteriorated into nothingness, and his souring view of the world, Kaede slowly but surely began to become the metamorphosis of who he was to truly be.
Years would pass, and while once he was the strongest of those within his unit, known as Team 0, the K Team, he eventually became the weakest of them all. Kazura, Kagiroi, Karasu...their names began to sting anytime they were spoken. Desperately seeking to differentiate himself, he lunged headfirst into battle with reckless abandon, nearly dying many times, yet everytime he prepared himself for the sting of death, someone, or something was there to save him.
Why? Why was he kept alive? Why was he here? If he couldn't be the strongest, he didn't want to exist at all. One night he lay in the sands outside of the village, alone, waiting for something, anything to take him. A chuunin of renown, his power was great, but nothing in comparison to his brethren whom had grown, and Kazura whom had become an exceptional Jonin.
Then it happened. Without his knowledge fierce explosions began to ring from the village, forcing his heart to skip a beat.
What followed was the final battle in the once perpetual war for dominance. And whom else to lead it than Kazura himself, secretly becoming a face of the Hitemori faction after her death.
Unwilling to accept the crumbling of everything he ever knew, he left the village, wandering, starving, until he felt the pale hand of death itself whisper to him.
If you are weak, just die.
Oi' kid. Hey! Hey kid!~
“...” Kaede stood quiet in empty reflection, his eyes far removed from the canyon that he stood before, instead looking to the horizon beyond. Below was nothingness, as if someone had taken the sword of God and layed it into the land, canyon was formed where land should have been, forming an incredibly large crevice in the crust of the earth. Hundreds of miles deep, and hundreds of miles wide, he struggled to imagine what could have created this, but of everything he knew, only one thing was capable. Only one man. The man who had saved him in the sands that very night, and guided him to his destiny. A drunken, old, and stubborn fool who's power was greater than any he had ever met till that day. There was no one with the martial prowess, or the knowledge of chakra like he, and that was why he would one day make him his powerful, and greatest secret.
“...what was so powerful that you went and killed yourself, you disobedient fool.” Kaede questioned aloud, attempting to piece it together. Was Bishanoten not the true mastermind? He seemed powerful in his own right, with only Oni able to deal a truly decisive blow, but was there perhaps a greater enemy that was orchestrating from behind the scenes? Kaede hated to imagine that there were variables that he'd be unable to account for due to his lack of knowledge, but the truth was, this was a mixed bag. While it feared him with adrenaline that something so powerful could exist, a challenge unlike any they could find in their world of old, atleast in the state that it existed— this also meant that there was a legitimate chance that his dream would never come to fruition. With Akuma's departure, they were no doubt more vulnerable to whatever it was Sortez had released The Forbidden Chakra to, and to sacrifice his life? All times before he would have run and reported the information...this was something closer to home.
Much like the Eight Chakra Gates, the Forbidden Chakra was a hidden shinobi taijutsu technique that involved the utilization of senjutsu and taijutsu together, along with impeccable meditation, to facilitate a level of power that superseded the eight gates themselves for a short period of time. While stronger, the mortality rate, especially for someone who's chakra centers were already fractured, was almost zero. Not even Kaede had dared to learn the technique himself, being unable to steel his mind, or allow himself to take unnecessary risks before he arrived to the metaphorical finish line.
Any emotional attachment that remained in his world belonged to three people. And one of them was gone.
“W-what the heeeeell?!” he roared to himself. While tears streamed down his cheeks stained with black blood, his reaction was one of frustration. “You fuckin' weak fool! Why are you crying! I'll fucking kill you!”
If anyone were watching, Kaede was certainly a head case. It was hard for anyone that wasn't Rin to understand that his psyche had been fragmented when he passed through the metatemporal gateway to Izral, and so the weaker, softer, younger, naive side of him was crying for the loss of Sortez. A mortal plea by a weak, mortal being.
Kaede had long since ripped the rags of his celebratory attire, and wore nothing more than black slacks and straw flip-flops underneath. Chiseled and covered in sweat and dry blood from his battle with Oni, and even Vartes, it was strange that he had the stamina still to stand and move.
“The moment I get the chance,” he whispered to himself, “I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to kill whoever killed Sortez. Do you understand me?”
Then, with his hands stuffed into his slacks, he watched the sun rise.