This post encompasses an S-rank mission containing the following storyboard elements:
- (custom) Meet your teacher of the higher mysteries and try to understand her lesson (5)
“Again!”
Kreia’s voice rung out across the fighting ring as Hawke spat a glob of blood down at the sand and wiped his mouth with a growl of anger. He charged the freakishly large warrior in front of him again, weaving behind him with a burst of speed before whipping a a knee into the small of his back. The man grunted and wobbled on his feet, but before he had a chance to follow up that infernal crone’s voice rang out again.
“No. Again!”
Hawke gritted his teeth in frustration, but wordlessly returned to his starting position. He looked around at the faces of villagers passing by, few of them sparing his training session more than a passing glance. After Kreia’s introduction most of them had simply dispersed, returning to their daily tasks to Hawke’s great confusion. The old woman’s word carried an air of almost divine authority, but if Garrett had a coin for every all-bark-no-bite grandma he had come across during his time he would have been be a wealthier man. He had thought to nip the dismaying prospect of a verbal earful in the bud, so a few steps brought him within choking-range of the woman. That was when he realized that he was not able to kill her. Not trough any defense of hers, but simply because he found that his muscles did not obey him when he instructed them to pop the crone’s head like an overripe melon.
Hawke was snapped out of his train of thoughts by the sting of a meaty fist burying itself in his gut and then had his sinuses cleared by what felt like a sledgehammer slamming against his forehead. Once again Kreia’s command rang out, some amusement evident in her tone.
“Again.”
Hawke’s fists were clenched so tightly that he felt his nails dig into his palms and draw blood. It was the last drop that made his cup of incoherent rage overflow.
“You absolute… I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”
He jumped to his feet and felt the familiar surge of energy as he moulded chakra for the inferno he thought to fry her to a crisp with. Just as quickly as it came, however, he felt it all dissipate and his muscles relax. A feeling of calmness washed over him, a sensation Garrett was rather unfamiliar with. It was pure torture.
Kreia had not commented on the look look in his eyes when his first attempted murder of her ran harmlessly into the sand, nor on the attempt itself, if it could be called that. She had simply turned on her heels and led him to the fighting ring, instructed him to strip down and then presented him to his opponent. The man was built like a brick shithouse and had to be at least seven and a half feet tall. Even Ahichu Uchiha would have found him imposing. Hawke had not, until the crone instructed him to fight him without any chakra whatsoever.
This second time around his self-proclaimed sensei rewarded his efforts with a sigh that sounded less than impressed.
“You would only be inflicting harm on yourself,” she intoned matter-of-factly.
“And your overgrown simpleton here isn’t?” Hawke gingerly rubbed his forehead, wincing at the swelling he felt.
“The beast is a lesson in strength. Learn that lesson, then you will understand.”
The certainty behind her words infuriated him. She never hesitated, never flinched. Whatever power she used to keep him at bay had to be so deeply ingrained within her that she never doubted it. That was a bad sign, because it showed that a midnight run would likely produce the same lack of results.
“Who says I want to learn anything you teach?”
Another sigh and Kreia dismissed the meaty beast with a wave of her hand before stepping into the ring, giving Hawke a critical once-over that momentarily exposed her blind white eyes to his sight.
“You must learn to see crude matter for what it is before the veil is lifted,” she explained resolutely, slowly circling around him. “I sense a disquiet in you, an unrest. Entertain what illusions you will, but know that I am your teacher, and that is enough.”
“And what could you possibly teach me that I do not already know? To fight without strength? Without power?” Fire streaked through Hawke’s hands, but just as before calm quickly washed over him and the fire sputtered and died.
“The highest powers cannot be found by falling to these baser instincts,” Kreia lectured while continuing to circle him slowly, unheeding of his protests. “It is a quick path and often, a short one. The growing anger, the rage, and the power it brings. Such things will ultimately erode your strength.”
“Why me, then?” Hawke heard the resigned tone of his own voice and regretted it at once. His follow-up was steelier. “You were the thread I sensed. You led me here, but why? My life is decided. Why try to change it now?”
Kreia came to a stop in front of him and slowly raised her hand in front of his face. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, but then felt the pressure of her energy against his psyche. He tried to move, but found himself rooted to the spot as unbidden thoughts began to take form in his mind. A raised hand and the thirs for vengeance; the glean of steel in the sun; sounds of screaming and the smell of burnt flesh; locks of red hair mated with blood; tiny fingers and a swell of pride.
Fury. Blind, uncontrollable fury.
Hawke opened his eyes and found white spots dancing in his vision. For a moment everything was spinning, but then his sight settled on Kreia and the world seemed to steady itself.
“Because I am not blind, that is why,” the old woman answered cryptically. “But if it means so much to you, then this I swear to you upon my life... upon our lives... that when your training is complete, I will answer everything.” She made the vow without hesitation, though its wording raised more questions still.
“And until then I will just have to trust you? Piss off.”
“I do not ask you to trust me, only that you listen to what I have to tell you.”
“Like your lesson of strength where I must forego its use? Killing everything here would be nothing to me, so why should I believe that you have anything worthwhile to teach me?”
“Why ask that question when you already know the answer?”
The retort provoked a bitter growl from Hawke, because deep within his heart of hearts he did know the answer. He had sensed it the moment he felt the pull of that invisible thread, eve before he laid eyes on Kreia herself. It was an unfamiliar sense of purpose; a question that he could not see, yet knew the shape of. It was a realization that at once infuriated and pacified Hawke.
“So you have brought me here to learn a lesson that you will not teach?”
“I am attempting to teach you something greater, but that was not what brought you here,” she replied with a simplicity that belied its content. Her answers were more frustrating than the questions themselves. “You must realize this on your own.”
“Then what..?” Hawke mumbled and looked around the quaint village, so similar to many others he had visited were it not for its location. It was composed of people and their possessions in the grind of daily life. There was nothing extraordinary about it, except perhaps… “It’s the Yajirushi,” he realized with a start, turning once again to face Keira. “They’re all here?”
“Those who survive, yes,” the old woman confirmed with a neutral expression.
“So you are-?”
“One of them? No.” It was the first time Hawke sensed that she took offense to one of his questions. “They gathered here in desperation and now lack the will to leave. They were drawn here and more will come.”
“And you lead them?”
“I know many things, and I know what I am not,” she said dryly. “I speak with a voice that will never move others.”
Hawke looked over at the meaty beast who was sprawled out in the middle of the ring and staring at the duo with a blank expression. “So they follow no-one, then,” he surmised.
“They will follow you because you are a leader and their kind always needs such,” Kreia explained, sounding rather indifferent, but her tone sharpened again as she warned him. “If that is your choice, then use their dependency, feed upon it, until you have exhausted them, then leave them. Do not rely on them to compensate for your weaknesses.”
“I rely on no-one and nothing,” Hawke said, sounding more certain than he felt. He had always taken pride I his independence, but saying it just then felt like a lie. One he suspected Kreia saw through more clearly than even himself. That notion infuriated him. “But I’ll make sure to view you as disposable, then,” he all but sneered.
“Ah,” Kreia allowed the tiniest of smirks to tug at her lips. “Now you are learning.”
They went back to training after that. It took a while before Hawke learned to let go of the almost instinctual response of using chakra to enhance his strikes and movements, but once he got the hang of it the beating began in earnest. He tried to make up for his lack of size through sheer aggression, but it was quite a differential to bridge. In the end it was Kreia who called it a day after one of the beast’s tree trunk kicks shattered Hawke’s tibia in three places. She watched him as he healed the injury in the soft blue energy of medical chakra.
“Nothing is impossible with chakra. It is good to know of its mysteries, but not to rely on them.” She remarked as Hawke’s energy guided the bone back together.
Hawke looked up at her with a weary expression.
“For these lessons... Do we really have to travel together?”