Part 2.
When the sealing was completed, the Tsuchikage immediately knew something was wrong. The mind-control elements were obviously not present when he examined the seal. His jonins seized the old man, and one of them recognized the missing ninja they had sought so long ago. At this point, the old man laughed and pointed out a few ?truths? before the Tsuchikage could do anything rash.
The old man told the furious kage that no, the seal did not include the requested mind-controlling elements. If he?d been stupid enough to do as the man wanted, the demon within the seal could also use those elements to seize control of the host. Furthermore, if he tried to dispose of the babe, the moment of its death would mark the release of Hachimata. And once bound by such a seal, it was impossible to use the same one again, so the dragon would therefore be unstoppable. Old man was pretty good at lying through his teeth.
Enraged and humiliated by this betrayal, the Tsuchikage had both the old man and the infant consigned to the chakra-shielded cells in the deepest dungeon beneath his fortress. At first they were held while the Tsuchikage tried to think of a way out of his dilemma. No matter where the child was murdered, the demon would know where it had been sealed. It would likely return to that location to seek vengeance. The ?monk? was kept alive in case his blood or chakra was needed for a second ritual that might resolve their problems.
The absolute master of Iwakagure was still struggling with this dilemma, and was about to risk calling the old monk?s bluff, when his jailors made their weekly report. One casual statement caught both his ear and his inspiration. The guards mentioned how the old man was taking care of the child and the ruthless leader?s eyes lit up. They would allow this interaction to continue, so as the child grew up it would become attached to the old monk. Then the Jinchuuriki would do their bidding to keep the old man safe and secure. They would still have the services of Hachimata for the inevitable war with Konoha.
The Tsuchikage was so pleased with this plan that he managed to go three whole years without bragging about it to the old man who thought he?d deceived the ?greatest? of the kages.
OoOoO
Of course, I know about this because I?m the one that grew up in an underground prison cell with a weird tattoo on my stomach and a crotchety old man telling me what to do. This seemed pretty normal to me, but the old man liked to drop hints about how I came to be? and, I think, to awaken a desire within me to see the outside world. It wasn?t until a lot later that I realized he meant, ?without him?.
My earliest memories are sitting at the old bastard?s feet, listening to him tell stories and scratch himself. Hygiene was a little hard to come by down there, and it was a good thing I was an extremely healthy baby. Otherwise, I might not have made it. Of course, with what I know now, I realize why I didn?t get sick nearly as often as I should have. Even living in that dank hole.
Anyway, the old man loved to talk, so I just listened a lot. After a while I began to talk back. He didn?t like that at first, but gradually I began to ask better and better questions. I?ll give the crusty old bastard this ? he never talked down to me or used baby-talk like I see some people use. What the hell is the purpose of that, anyway?
But mostly he talked, and I listened. I would get up and walk around when I got stiff, and he would correct my posture and the way I walked. The special maximum-security cell wasn?t large, but it did at least have enough room to move around. I suppose I wouldn?t have been much use as a weapon if I couldn?t even walk.
As the years passed and I gradually grew taller, the old man focused my overabundant energy into special kinds of movement. I was halfway through my first kata before he explained what Taijutsu was. The idea of combat kind of threw me at first. Who could I fight down here, except for him? But when you?re young and there?s nothing else to do, you stop asking questions after a while.
I suppose, in one sense of the word, I?ve had little to no formal training. But in reality, I?ve trained every day of my life from the day I first walked to the evening I saw my first sunset.
This isn?t to suggest that the Rock shinobi left us completely alone. Every so often the old man would dump our food into the waste pot as soon as it was delivered. Other times he would begin breathing very shallowly, and hold his hand over my mouth and nose as well. His hand would feel funny, making my face itch where the skin touched, until he let me go. It wasn?t until much later that I realized he?d detected drugs or poisons in our food, or even the air itself. Canny old bastard.
When I grew tired of moving, the stories continued. The old man told tales of his youth, and his life as a shinobi. I?d acquired a very narrow perspective on life in this mythical ?outside? he kept going on about, but becoming a shinobi sounded like something interesting to do. So, I began asking for more and more details on how they did things. He seemed encouraged by this, and sometimes even got up from his bench to demonstrate things? though this happened less and less often as the years passed.
Though my lessons were primarily oral, he also insisted that I learn to read and write. Let me assure you that you pay a lot more attention to your brushwork (actually a lock of torn-off hair and a flat piece of floor) when the only pigment available is your own blood. Fortunately, I could nick a finger with a sharp edge of stone and it would heal up almost before I was done. I noticed the old man avidly watching this one day and asked him why. He wouldn?t answer though, and said he would explain more some day. As the years passed, he began to teach me about special kinds of writing, and he taught me more about seals and sealing techniques than I thought it was possible to know.
This continued until a few months ago. He taught, I learned, and I would have been content to do so forever? until the old man acquired a ragged cough that wouldn?t go away. I knew something was wrong, because the pace of our lessons abruptly increased. He?d begun showing me some basic chakra control exercises, and I enjoyed hanging from the ceiling by my feet to show off. He insisted, though, that I never do this when one of the other people was around. He called them guards, but I thought of them almost as servants. They brought us food and water, and carried away the waste pot? what else could they be? But I also noticed that he breathed very shallowly while they were around, and thus almost never coughed. Later I would realize that he didn?t want them to know he was ill.
I grew uneasy as the lessons quickened in pace. He spoke faster, sometimes stumbling over his words until he broke down in a coughing frenzy. At the same time, the fascinating things I was learning were a clever distraction from my worries.
Finally, I awoke half-way through our sleeping period, sensing something was wrong. The old man?s breathing was harsh, and labored. His complexion was pale, the lips colored with a bluish tinge. He gestured for me to come closer, and in a halting whisper, he told me all the remaining details of how I came to be. He said that he would be dying soon, and wished to apologize for my life thus far. I didn?t even really understand what he was saying, but he was so agitated that I forgave him on the spot, for whatever he might have done. He smiled, and the years seemed to fall off of his face for a moment as his claw-like hand tightened on my forearm. Then he went into another spasm of coughing that left his cracked lips red with blood.
?I?ve told you everything I could think of, taught you everything I know,? he whispered, ?When I?m gone, I want you to sit there like you are meditating, but with your eyes wide open. Don?t respond to them, no matter what they say or do, until they open the door to take my body out of here. Then, I want you to run. Run your ass off, boy! Don?t ever let them catch you and put you in a cage again. Get away from this shit pile of a village and leave Earth Country far behind you.?
?Where will I go?? I asked, my mind shuddering back from the idea of him dying and me leaving. This was our home!
__________________
yay! another is coming.
When the sealing was completed, the Tsuchikage immediately knew something was wrong. The mind-control elements were obviously not present when he examined the seal. His jonins seized the old man, and one of them recognized the missing ninja they had sought so long ago. At this point, the old man laughed and pointed out a few ?truths? before the Tsuchikage could do anything rash.
The old man told the furious kage that no, the seal did not include the requested mind-controlling elements. If he?d been stupid enough to do as the man wanted, the demon within the seal could also use those elements to seize control of the host. Furthermore, if he tried to dispose of the babe, the moment of its death would mark the release of Hachimata. And once bound by such a seal, it was impossible to use the same one again, so the dragon would therefore be unstoppable. Old man was pretty good at lying through his teeth.
Enraged and humiliated by this betrayal, the Tsuchikage had both the old man and the infant consigned to the chakra-shielded cells in the deepest dungeon beneath his fortress. At first they were held while the Tsuchikage tried to think of a way out of his dilemma. No matter where the child was murdered, the demon would know where it had been sealed. It would likely return to that location to seek vengeance. The ?monk? was kept alive in case his blood or chakra was needed for a second ritual that might resolve their problems.
The absolute master of Iwakagure was still struggling with this dilemma, and was about to risk calling the old monk?s bluff, when his jailors made their weekly report. One casual statement caught both his ear and his inspiration. The guards mentioned how the old man was taking care of the child and the ruthless leader?s eyes lit up. They would allow this interaction to continue, so as the child grew up it would become attached to the old monk. Then the Jinchuuriki would do their bidding to keep the old man safe and secure. They would still have the services of Hachimata for the inevitable war with Konoha.
The Tsuchikage was so pleased with this plan that he managed to go three whole years without bragging about it to the old man who thought he?d deceived the ?greatest? of the kages.
OoOoO
Of course, I know about this because I?m the one that grew up in an underground prison cell with a weird tattoo on my stomach and a crotchety old man telling me what to do. This seemed pretty normal to me, but the old man liked to drop hints about how I came to be? and, I think, to awaken a desire within me to see the outside world. It wasn?t until a lot later that I realized he meant, ?without him?.
My earliest memories are sitting at the old bastard?s feet, listening to him tell stories and scratch himself. Hygiene was a little hard to come by down there, and it was a good thing I was an extremely healthy baby. Otherwise, I might not have made it. Of course, with what I know now, I realize why I didn?t get sick nearly as often as I should have. Even living in that dank hole.
Anyway, the old man loved to talk, so I just listened a lot. After a while I began to talk back. He didn?t like that at first, but gradually I began to ask better and better questions. I?ll give the crusty old bastard this ? he never talked down to me or used baby-talk like I see some people use. What the hell is the purpose of that, anyway?
But mostly he talked, and I listened. I would get up and walk around when I got stiff, and he would correct my posture and the way I walked. The special maximum-security cell wasn?t large, but it did at least have enough room to move around. I suppose I wouldn?t have been much use as a weapon if I couldn?t even walk.
As the years passed and I gradually grew taller, the old man focused my overabundant energy into special kinds of movement. I was halfway through my first kata before he explained what Taijutsu was. The idea of combat kind of threw me at first. Who could I fight down here, except for him? But when you?re young and there?s nothing else to do, you stop asking questions after a while.
I suppose, in one sense of the word, I?ve had little to no formal training. But in reality, I?ve trained every day of my life from the day I first walked to the evening I saw my first sunset.
This isn?t to suggest that the Rock shinobi left us completely alone. Every so often the old man would dump our food into the waste pot as soon as it was delivered. Other times he would begin breathing very shallowly, and hold his hand over my mouth and nose as well. His hand would feel funny, making my face itch where the skin touched, until he let me go. It wasn?t until much later that I realized he?d detected drugs or poisons in our food, or even the air itself. Canny old bastard.
When I grew tired of moving, the stories continued. The old man told tales of his youth, and his life as a shinobi. I?d acquired a very narrow perspective on life in this mythical ?outside? he kept going on about, but becoming a shinobi sounded like something interesting to do. So, I began asking for more and more details on how they did things. He seemed encouraged by this, and sometimes even got up from his bench to demonstrate things? though this happened less and less often as the years passed.
Though my lessons were primarily oral, he also insisted that I learn to read and write. Let me assure you that you pay a lot more attention to your brushwork (actually a lock of torn-off hair and a flat piece of floor) when the only pigment available is your own blood. Fortunately, I could nick a finger with a sharp edge of stone and it would heal up almost before I was done. I noticed the old man avidly watching this one day and asked him why. He wouldn?t answer though, and said he would explain more some day. As the years passed, he began to teach me about special kinds of writing, and he taught me more about seals and sealing techniques than I thought it was possible to know.
This continued until a few months ago. He taught, I learned, and I would have been content to do so forever? until the old man acquired a ragged cough that wouldn?t go away. I knew something was wrong, because the pace of our lessons abruptly increased. He?d begun showing me some basic chakra control exercises, and I enjoyed hanging from the ceiling by my feet to show off. He insisted, though, that I never do this when one of the other people was around. He called them guards, but I thought of them almost as servants. They brought us food and water, and carried away the waste pot? what else could they be? But I also noticed that he breathed very shallowly while they were around, and thus almost never coughed. Later I would realize that he didn?t want them to know he was ill.
I grew uneasy as the lessons quickened in pace. He spoke faster, sometimes stumbling over his words until he broke down in a coughing frenzy. At the same time, the fascinating things I was learning were a clever distraction from my worries.
Finally, I awoke half-way through our sleeping period, sensing something was wrong. The old man?s breathing was harsh, and labored. His complexion was pale, the lips colored with a bluish tinge. He gestured for me to come closer, and in a halting whisper, he told me all the remaining details of how I came to be. He said that he would be dying soon, and wished to apologize for my life thus far. I didn?t even really understand what he was saying, but he was so agitated that I forgave him on the spot, for whatever he might have done. He smiled, and the years seemed to fall off of his face for a moment as his claw-like hand tightened on my forearm. Then he went into another spasm of coughing that left his cracked lips red with blood.
?I?ve told you everything I could think of, taught you everything I know,? he whispered, ?When I?m gone, I want you to sit there like you are meditating, but with your eyes wide open. Don?t respond to them, no matter what they say or do, until they open the door to take my body out of here. Then, I want you to run. Run your ass off, boy! Don?t ever let them catch you and put you in a cage again. Get away from this shit pile of a village and leave Earth Country far behind you.?
?Where will I go?? I asked, my mind shuddering back from the idea of him dying and me leaving. This was our home!
__________________
yay! another is coming.
