Portent

Aiko:


"And what is she like?" asked a curious boy of eleven to his mentor while he struggled to catch up to the hastily advancing man.

The middle aged man halted his nigh-frantic march as he began giving the seldom asked question serious thought.  Despite his affinities towards his daughter, he usually reserved his feelings, refusing to betray the Kagetsu preference of merit over kin affiliation.  The bearded man turned towards the scrappy albino child before he answered, unaware that his face betrayed his oddly neutral words in regards to his daughter, "She's a precocious young girl. She's bright and very sensitive, yet she also lacks discipline.  She has plenty of potential which is why I requested that you would join her outfit, so that she could learn Taijutsu and perhaps adopt your strict regiment of training."

The albino child couldn't help but sheepishly smile at the subtle compliment being paid to him.  He desired to ask more but was forced to end his inquiry prematurely as he almost didn't notice that the Kagetsu man had already began walking away from him, leaving him scrambling to catch up once again.  They paced through the ancient pagoda only stopping when the inevitable pedestrian greeted the Kagetsu man with bows and lavish praise.  Aiko struggled to carry the dai-katana on his shoulder but bore his burden silently; Lord Michi never complained, Aiko wouldn't either.  They walked in silence for another twenty minutes until they reached the carefully maintained garden painstakingly labored upon by a small fleet of gardeners employed by the Kagetsu family.  Just as he randomly moved on without him, he turned to face the albino child.

"Continue practice your sword techniques until I return.  Your blade will only learn to trust you after you prove that you have the very capability of even handling it and your ancestor's memories.  I shall return with Kiyo shortly," he ordered before the large man made his exit.

Aiko bowed lovingly before he turned sharply away from his master.  Since inheriting the blade he had consistently been informed that the ancestral traits of the Nanjirou clan would eventually reveal itself to him instinctively.  Yet for how talented he appeared with the bokken or how much potential he displayed with a common katana, it was exactly how subpar he appeared with his mother’s blade.  The spirits residing within remained unsure about the young child who was born to a warrior who had so incompetently wielded it before.  Fighting the unnatural resistance, Aiko drew the well-forged blade with both hands.  His crimson eyes stared into it obsessively before he began his ritual regiment.  The blade was heavier than anything else he had ever wielded; he labored with every well placed swing but he refused to relent to the physical exhaustion his muscles signaled with.  He didn't notice.


Kiyo:


Her first impression was that he looked very much like the pet rabbit they'd owned when she was little, the one that had turned out to be deaf and had nibbled the arm off her favorite doll. Mama had sewn it back on patiently and reminded her the rabbit could not go into her room and she wondered if he also had a habit of chewing on toys.

No, she decided, tucked against her father's side and half protected by his great size, he probably did not chew on toys. He was likely to be like those bullies that chased her with their bamboo practice swords except his was real. The blade gave her a little shiver, because while she saw them often she never stopped fearing swords. The old teacher had come at her with one on her first day on the complex and he'd assumed as the daughter of the great Michishirube she should be able to defend herself at the tender age of six. They'd had to splint her arm and the first month of training had been spent watching from the sidelines. Papa had been so angry and the teacher had changed, but the boys liked to chase her because she would scream.

"Is he very important?" She asked quietly, twining her small hands in her fathers, an act she made at every availability, "Why do I have to meet him, Papa?" She loved the way his large hands squeezed over hers, they way his eyes narrowed as he thought of exactly the right words just for her, and the hand he placed on her red hair, like mamas her said, she he explained. She wished they would let her have real clothe, not the rough training clothes that everyone was forced to wear. She wanted to be pretty for him, like her mother was allowed to be, and make him smile with a new dance move or Kanji learned. She didn't want them to cut her hair and secretly she still wished she could be a painter. When had the world become all about how hard she could hit a stupid dummy? "I don't like it here. When do I get to go home?"

His patient smile was all the answer she was going to get, years of knowing and loving this man was enough to tell her that. She would not go home today, and this meeting would be something more. It was a game he played with her, never answering, forcing her to figure things out of find the carefully laid clues. Probably the boy himself knew why they were meeting. "Alright then, I'll do it myself." She burst forward, paused and bent her head to her father as was proper, then continued on to the young man swinging his sword in the garden.

"Excuse me," she interrupted him mid swing, stopping on the well manicured grass to watch as he trained, "Could you stop a moment?"


Aiko:


The blade continued to resist the would-be fluid motions of the albino squire.   Every movement became impeded with a resistance greater than the significant weight the dai-katana could contribute.  Aiko was quite immature to the notions of his ancestry but even he could sense the hesitancy of the blade in his hands.  He felt the unwillingness of a thousand generations and their near refusal to commit to the nascent owner despite his birthright, despite the blood that flowed through his veins.  He had no choice but to continue ignoring the impediment as he forced his scrappy body to forcibly move the sword where chose.  He would either bend the sword to his will or it would relent at his insistence and at the very least allow itself to be wielded by the boy.  Aiko had absolutely no notion that it was not his decision that allowed the Nanjirou synchronization.

A high pitched voice broke Aiko's concentration halfway through his Taijutsu routine.  He somehow managed the twin failures of losing both his footing and nearly letting go the already disobedient Otogakurian steel in one poorly executed maneuver.  The albino child quickly leapt onto his feet as he attempted to rescue any notion of dignity available, a goal that soon became impossible when he finally managed to catch a glimpse of the source of the utterance which had called out to him.   Aiko began blushing a bright red at the diminutive figure hiding behind the bear of man.  She looked like a red-haired doll with purple eyes stuffed into a tiny replica of padded training clothes.  He was unsure whether if it was that the tiny clothes that looked too heavy for her or perhaps those exotic eyes that watched him that had embarrassed him, he only that he was dumbstruck.   The rush of blood left him stuttering like an idiot.  Ultimately he found himself unable to properly introduce himself until Lord Michishirube, in what was surely either an act of empathy or an attempt to stem his urge to erupt in laughter, broke the wretched display by electing to speak first on his behalf.

"Kiyo-chan, I would like you to meet Aiko,"  he spoke after a short stifling cough.  "He's to be your new teammate and Taijutsu tutor from now on.  He's a descendant of the Nanjirou clan and adept at both unarmed combat and swordplay which is good news for you since I've been informed by your instructors that you are lacking in those faculties," he finished with a minor criticism.

Aiko once again had nervously missed his cue to greet Kiyo despite the many moments he was afforded to compose himself until Lord Michishirube gave portentous cough calling him forward to speak to the Kagetsu progeny.  The albino wiped the sweat off of his brow as he shyly walked forward unsure of what to say.  He outstretched his pale white hand while he mumbled an unimpressive, "Nice to meet you Kiyo."


Kiyo:


The little wince was all that betrayed how much her father's criticism hurt. Kiyo worked hard for him, did all the horrible training they asked from her and bared to disapproval of the clan with steadfastness. She did not complain to anyone but her mother and sometimes to Papa, the other children thought she was stuck up because of it. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair that he never praised her for the genjutsu her mother called marvelous, that he only cared she could not swing a sword well.

"Pleased to meet you, Aiko" she answered primly, touching two fingers to her mouth and bowing forward slightly, the polite greeting that her mother had taught her and they used on the Kagetsu complex. She didn't want to touch his hand, Kiyo had just watched him wipe it across his sweaty forehead and the offer seemed awfully rude to her, but a quick glance back at her father confirmed she should do it anyways. Sweat of the common man, so to speak, but he would be her teammate too so she may as well. With a wrinkled nose she grabbed his hand and shook it briefly.

He was less a rabbit she decided, and more like the lithe mythical dragons her mother painted in the evening among peony and sunflowers. Or maybe one of the Tengu from violent story books her sister preferred. Briefly she wondered if she touched his forehead if his horns would appear.

"You're to be my teammate and tutor? What are your credentials, Aiko-kun?" she asked politely in her small voice, eyeing the sword he had been swinging with some difficulty. Their age difference couldn't be that great, and he hadn't looked spectacular a moment ago so what was her father thinking? Had he given up on her? "Isn't Aiko a girl's name?" she added absently, puzzling over the situation with what would become a telltale witch of her brow.



Aiko:


The milky white child found himself almost instantaneously on the defensive as Kiyo began badgering him with questions.  Aiko continued growing bright red as the young girl not only demanded his credentials but asked about his name.  The curse of albinism; the lack of pigmentation that perhaps could have obfuscated the increasing blush on his opaque face but only served to highlight it even further.  The name Aiko had been a constant source of trouble for the child since his earliest memories of childhood.  His mother had named him after a remote ancestor his blade had originally belonged to.  He had tried hiding his name by inventing a nickname or lying about what it was, but a porcelain boy already attracted more than the usual attention.   It had never exactly been worth the additional effort to disguise yet another aspect of himself for very long when he was already being teased for his visible genetic abnormality.  Ignoring his usual attempts to feign a mature composure, Aiko shook his head violently as he blurted out his typical response when confronted about his unorthodox name, "It can be a boy's name too."  Not exactly the most eloquent of defenses and not exactly the most adequate of lies.

The boisterous man nearly decked Aiko with a hearty pat to the back before he began shoving them both forward into a pre-prepared training circle.  "On with the both of you, you don't exactly have much time before headquarters begins assigning you both missions which actually reminds me..." he trailed.  He attempted to leave them both stopped himself before turning back to say, "Oh, and Aiko, please do go gentle on Kiyo.  By which I mean you should go to the armory and grab a pair of bokken for training.  Even if you're not exactly adept with the arcane mysteries of your family, I can't exactly approve of you hitting my eight year old daughter with a seven foot sword," he instructed with a trace of humor in his voice.

That was how Aiko was left with the teetering eight year old, almost assuredly losing interest in training now that her father had left and only about a minute away from making faces at any orders he would give her.  He sighed profoundly as he told her he'd return in just a second.  Quickly he rushed to the nearby armory to retrieve the pair of bokken he had been instructed to use instead.  He began wondering if this training was meant to be anything more than a glorified whack-a-Kagetsu marathon.  He'd have to discover this the old fashioned way.


Kiyo:


"Can it?" she answered, enjoying the way that made her sound like her mother and raising one fuzzy brow like she watched her do. She wished she could look down on him like her mother did too, and smile in that way that said, 'I know you're wrong but believe what you like.' He was too tall, much taller than her, so she settled on a puzzled frown that said she would give it some thought.

She didn't like how kind her father was with this boy, she decided. His attention and regard was on him, not her and that was entirely wrong. She listened with growing horror as he asked the boy to be gentle on her, to only use one of those awful bokken to what, to beat on her? The colour had drained completely from her face, and that was when she remembered.

He had promised, but it seemed he had forgotten, "Ah, right now Papa? But I thought we were supposed to..." her words died in frustrated silence and her small hands balled up into fists. He was gone with speed that only the Raikage could have, gone again. Just like that she had been abandoned again, stuck with another teacher. This one didn't even seem all that strong, he was just going to waste her time. There were more important things than training and her father kept forgetting them. Well, she would just have to do them for him.

When he returned he would find her hoisting herself up onto the garden wall where someone had left a set of pots and the vines grew especially thick. Her jaw was set with determination and by the easy way she found places to grab this wasn't the first time she had gone up. "I don't think it can be," she said, looking down at him from where she straddled the wall, "I think only girls have names like yours. Papa forgot, so I'm going on ahead. If you tell on me I'll make you regret it." Then she dropped to the other side.


Aiko:


The white Nanjirou stood still for a full minute absorbing the events that had unfolded before him before he even considered snapping into any sort of action.  Aiko wasn’t sure what about the entire debacle he was most upset about.  Was it how she jumped the fence and threatened to tattle to her father if he tried to chase her?  No, certainly not.  The very notion that the Lord Kagetsu would scold him for the defection of his daughter was ludicrous to the pallid child.  Even if Kiyo was fully convinced that she could manage to maneuver that level of manipulation it didn’t actually mean she could.  Was it instead because she had so arrogantly insisted that his name was a girl’s name?  To be succinct: Yes.

He hastily strapped the two bokken on his waist after moving his ancestral blade to the inside of the Kagetsu structure.   Aware of the increasing distance between he and the fleeing girl, he rapidly shot forth across the garden and ran up the compound wall using his chakra concentration to stick until he managed to acrobatically navigate over the top.  He landed with cat’s like grace on the other side and instantaneously those crimson eyes began scanning his surroundings, attempting to discern where exactly the red-haired child would wander off with her new found freedom.  He was nearly dismayed as he discovered exactly three different avenues she could have taken in her flight.  Hesitant to lose even more time, feeling lucky, and particularly in the mood for vengeance, he took a sharp left and raced downtown.  Aiko jumped over a multitude of assorted merchants as he left behind the higher class compounds on route to the Susukino District until he saw her red head nonchalantly walking amidst a crowd.  With a ravenous gleam in his near maniacal eyes, he drew both bokken and moved in quickly for the strike.

"I don't have a girl's name!" the white shinobi roared as he swung both swords over his head to her sure to be startled head.


Kiyo:


Kiyo ducked and weaved through the crowd, keeping her telltale red haired head low. People stopped and glanced her direction as she passed, there were not so many student aged Kagetsu girls that she could not be picked out. Her parents were well known enough that anyone with a mind to could draw their own conclusions. Some even went so far as to bow their head to her or call out politely, all this feeding the little ego inside that told her she deserved all this.

The little shops in this district held much to catch the eye from the youngest tiny girl to eldest distinguished lady, but Kiyo was on a mission. Her eyes barely lingered on the windows except to ascertain that they did not hold the correct product. She was so sure that she had lost the bleached boy who'd unfairly been praised by her father was far behind her, perhaps still back at the complex even. She had time to duck into the right shop, buy the right item and duck back out again with the little brown package in hand before she learned how very wrong she was.

A flash and shout, words she would hear many, many times in the years to come were shrieked in the high voice that only a boy short of puberty could manage. Kiyo, with a scream of terror, her lithe form twisted and fell in time to avoid the smack of twin blades that would have, no doubt, bruised of broken her. However she wasn't so skilled yet and did not catch herself quite the right way and her body crashed on the little package she had been so joyful to have. It's contents gave a sickening snap.

"You Bastard!" she cried "You monster! I bet your parents were siblings, that's why they gave you a girl's name! You disgust me!" she yelled, grabbing the package and slipping it into the front of her jacket even as she rolled up to her feet. She wasn't slow, just weak, a with seal and the swipe of her hands she sent a volley of wind in his direction, face set in tiny fury, then she ducked to but a stall between herself and his twin 'blades' of pain. People shouted, scattered in confusion, and Kiyo yelled, "Leave me alone, Ai-ko-chaaaaaan."


Aiko:


There was a hypnotic rhythm to those to those words.  The colorless child couldn’t explain why all of a sudden her choice words carried a sing-song quality, a catchy melody that was so infectious that he almost couldn’t fathom why he couldn’t just listen to her and give up the chase.  It might be a couple of years later until the squeaky indignant voice fully learned that as powerful as one’s Genjutsu laden suggestion might be, never use emotionally driven vocabulary that can be used as a point to fight the spell.  The white squire boiled in fury when she had called him a bastard, an insult his mother had been particularly fond of calling him of in her final delirious days.  He roared bestially with all his pent-up fury as he began to attack her diminutive body relentlessly.

The above would have been nice if not slightly cruel conclusion if he hadn’t only just fended off about half of the attack.  What Aiko actually did in his hypnosis was shout out a drunken slur before he started haphazardly smashing everything close to him.  The few people still laying witness were forced to duck to avoid those wild bokken while Aiko, in a fit of stupor, mistook them all for the insolent Kiyo.  Another minute passed him by before he was finally able to shrug off the phantasmagoric effects once and for all.  Aiko was too focused on finding young Kiyo to notice the gathering mob before he rushed off in search of her, an easy task with the procession of peasants bowing before her every step in the journey.

”You’re only making this worse for yourself,” he yelled with every missed strike and shattering of yet even more unsold merchandise.  Despite her father’s insistence, he found her to be quick on her feet with impressive reflexes but that’s what anyone might exert if they unleashed a small albino hurricane at them.  If it weren’t for his dual wielding she might have been able to slip away between swings.  Unwilling to risk her escaping, he ran ahead of her before turning to face her.  He would force her to navigate into a nearby clothing store where he hoped to trap her.


Kiyo:


The Hashigaki to be had been unaware of the power behind her shout, and she joined the crowd a second to stare as he smashed the area with such glee. It sent a chill up her small spine, and she wondered if what he saw in his red eyes was her. Those blows would surely hurt her, if not maim in some way! What a beast he was. She decided she hated him.

Soon enough he was back on her trail, Kiyo running without plan. Avoid being smashed, maybe find an adult strong enough to stop him but nothing more.

Kiyo squealed indignantly as bits of broken jewelery pelted her face and arms. He was fast, as fast as her, and that made dodging him a hit and miss. So far she had been lucky and the misses tallied up, but Kiyo would not take any risks. She hated them, swords of any kind, and she absolutely would not give him the satisfaction of taking her down.

What the hell was wrong with him anyways? What had she done to make him so angry. it wasn't like she, personally, had decided to give him the name of a female. So what if she took private delight in the anger that lit up in his eyes every time she said it was so, he deserved it. The little Kagetsu heir wouldn't let him bully her like this, not after he had taken so much away from her already. Steadfast, she shouted over her shoulder, "Worse how!? You swing like a girl!"

Kiyo ducked into the clothing store, his plan so clever she thought it was her own. She would lose him in territory unfamiliar to him, amongst the human-like manicans and the vast folds of clothing. Clothing shops of this district were known to use every available inch of space and there would be no limit to her places to hide. Her sandaled feet slapped hard against the polished stone floor, though they came muffled even to her ears, as she zigzagged through the clothes with agile ease as he surely smashed through things behind her. He would find it annoying, she hoped to find that clothes tangled on the ends of his blunt weapons. To confuse things more she sent a gust of wind behind her then fled up the predictable little set of stairs that led to the second floor. She would jump from the second story window as he continued smashing through the shop below.


Aiko:


Aiko continued seething in rage as he gave chase to the red-haired doll who worked so very hard in creating obstacles for him to leap over.  He would never allow anyone to tease him over his name ever again.

Yet there was no response to her latest barrage of insults as she ran through the department store surrounded by a small battalion of mannequins and clothes’ racks.  Kiyo would keep running to avoid the albino child but sooner rather than later she would pause for a second to scan for the white assailant who seemed to have vanished into thin air.  He didn’t vanish.  For the acutely observatory eyes, they would have noticed the odd vibrations amongst some of the clothes.  They might have convinced themselves it was a passage of wind from the outside, likely from some patron who hadn’t fully closed the entrance except there was no ring from the bell or the customary greeting.  Kiyo may have noticed the disturbances and their oddest of tendencies to follow her in her flight, if she paid attention…

Aiko stalked her as she ran throughout the store.  He never allowed his feet to dangle in plain sight nor to step at the alabaster floors of this upper class store in his chase.  He moved as a phantom, gliding from perch to perch, obfuscated by the multitude of wares on display, blending into the beige and white splashed prominently.  If she could have seen his face, she would have seen the soon to be familiar gleam of mania of one who too thoroughly enjoys administering discipline.  He plotted his actions as she ascended the escalator onto the next floor, likely to make a dash through windows given the lack of exits.  That’s when he saw an opportunity and rushed into position, placing himself in the most opportune of locations to ambush the Kagetsu daughter and finally return her to her father’s estate so he may thoroughly wallop her for her excursion.

On the second floor there was now a new mannequin.  The suspiciously familiar child sized opaque mannequin wore the latest trends of Kenjutsu robes and headgear as he mocked parried an invisible strike from what could be assumed was a teacher.  It appeared out of place in the context of the usual affairs and not very well placed within the store.  Perhaps it was an attempt to make Kenjutsu chic?  Perhaps it was…


Kiyo:


Kiyo was not exactly watching for him, she was too busy congratulating herself on the planning and orchestration of a very good tactic of escape. The stairs were within sight, he was not and she took that to be a very good thing. It did not occur to the little redhead that he might be infinitely more skilled in the ways of stealth than her, that simply just could not be. She did not lend thought to their age difference and what surmounted to as a great gap in their training amounts. She really didn't have a chance, but Kiyo never considered it that way.

It was the lack of answer to her shouts that made her begin to worry. Where was the rage filled cries? Where was the stinging retorts that would one day become as familiar and the painful little manners she must lean. Why had everything done so painfully quiet.

Troubled, she slowed in an aisle and leaned heavily on her knees. She was quick, but Kiyo could only keep up the pace for so long. Her body was small, she had none of the stamina the young boys her age could boast and somehow that seemed unfair. She listened while she breathed but all that came to her was the thumping of her own heart and the rustling of fabric. It was still many years before she came into her blood but oh would she have given anything to have it now. That left only sight, and with a bit of caution she started towards the stairs while swinging her head about to find her attacker.

She was three feet fast the strange parrying mannequin when terror stabbed her heart and with a shriek she dived beneath the clothing. She loathed to abandon her course, but should she manage to get away this time she would make a dive for the windows on this floor. He would know to follow but there was safety on the street among the growing number of onlookers.


Aiko:



It didn't take her long to discern why the mannequin looked so out of place, a fact evident as she disappeared in a trove of sundresses.  Hastily he removed the randomly selected attire utilized in his shitty ruse before  the albino boy gave chase under the countless racks of clothing.   He knocked them all aside to the audible displeasure of the staff with his bokken as he paced himself behind her, and ahead of various clerks, in order to better ascertain where the redheaded brat was scurrying.  Aiko labored as he futilely attempted to strike at her ephemeral appearances leaving himself more exhausted in his efforts.  He stopped his hunt for a quick second to catch his breath, just moments before the wild child leapt through a nearby window causing Aiko's heart to nearly choke in shock in his panic.  He raced to the window hoping to avoid seeing Kiyo's battered remains stretched out on the street only to become a bit relieved, much enraged anew as he saw her distinct head once again weaving through the throngs of people in her  continuing evasion.  Faced with the approaching irate staff behind him, the albino child  braved his fear and dove through the aperture while managing to safely roll when landing.  Unfortunately he had taken too long and couldn't see Kiyo in the crowds forcing him to improvise once again.

”Someone help!  My redheaded little sister is sick and she doesn't understand that she  needs to see the doctor before it's too late!” he yelled as potently as he could manage in faux alarm with matching fake tears.