The Rule of Two [Kutari, Invite]

It had only been a few days since the fateful night, and now the Raikage wanted to see him. The redhead had been startled awake by the clattering of the mailbox, and woke up with two kunai in hand ready to strike at the first sign of a threat to his person, both Sharingan and Byakugan enabled and collecting information which the brain was barely able to decipher. But, blessed byakugan saw the ninja operative escaping the scene after having delivered, and soon enough noticed the scroll he had received. Setting down the kunai and disabling the chakra vision of his eyes, he got off the bed and made towards the scroll, limber as though he had just been practicing.

Within the scroll he found said information relating to the meeting the Kage had arranged for the two of them; in their last meeting, the Raikage had promissed to perform the transplant of Nobunaga Hiyu, and now was the time for it to happen. He stretched, and got himself under the shower. Couldn’t go in looking like an actual hobo. Having washed himself and eaten a hearty breakfast, Kaito made out of the house, long mane of red hair caught at the top back of his head, string eyepatch over his right eye, Kumogakure headband over his head, black sleeveless shirt and black pants, weapon pouches at the back of his belt, wakizashi and Jagged Claw on his left side of the belt.

He made towards the tower of the Kage, and made it to the front desk. “Noboru, Kaito. I have an appointment with the Lord Raikage.”

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WC: 244

“The Lord Raikage will see you now.”

It had been a hot minute since the assistant had gone into the Raikage chambers, but it passed quickly enough that Kaito had very little time to ponder upon the state of the village. He went into the room, and the assistant closed the doors behind them. One of  Kaito's tattooed eyebrows went up into his forehead, wrinkling the forehead tattoos, while the other burrowed into the furrow, such was the surprise of this sight. For some reason, Gidyne looked much more different now than he did when they first met, having grown in height, but apparently in age as well. Someone who looked older than Kaito sat before him in the Kage's chair, with long disheveled hair and a neat beard. However, in spite of the somewhat disheveled outer appearance, his eyes held the same resolute view, and Kaito recognized the man who visited him on the Hospital on the fateful day so many moons ago; he had learned not to question who sat on the chair, lest the gore monster came back to test Kaito's sanity. “I can empathize with that, you needn’t worry about the hour”, he said truthfully in response to the apologetic greeting of the Kage. In the time the Raikage had been gone and he had taken to help run the village, he gained the ability to sleep as soon as he rested his head on his pillow such was the emotional and mental drain, at the expense of the ability to have dreams. It was always close eyes - open eyes, and he barely ever felt rested at all.

The Raikage went on to explain they would resume their last conversation and process, going on to ask Noboru to lay on a table so he could receive the gift of the martial clan Hiyu. While Noboru didn’t have much time to research the clan independently, he did remember reading about Nobunaga in his time as a Jonin, and the capabilities of the Hiyu clan. It was a match made in Heaven, that Nobu would live on in Nobo and empower the martial prowess of the Taijutsu specialist.

Before he could rest on the table, Gidyne spoke of reinstating Noboru as a Jonin of the village; while in the past Noboru had accepted the title out of hubris, a need to be recognized and to hide his own shame at being so weak. Now, however, he hesitated; was he truly ready to be promoted? He removed his shirt, and walked towards the table, listening to the Raikage’s rationale for the promotion. He paused before he laid down. “I will accept it, Lord Raikage. I’ll hold on to it better this time, I believe.”

Laying down and facing the ceiling, he felt the familiar lack of sensation within his abdomen as the Lord Raikage cut into his flesh and replaced his perfectly good kidney with a better version, held by a monster of a man in the past; hopefully it would bring out the monster Kaito desperately sought within himself. When it was all done, Kaito put back on his sleeveless black t-shirt, covering the non existent wound of the recent operation, alongside all the burns and scars he accumulated over his lively life. “Thank you, Lord Raikage.” His abdomen was still without sensation, but soon he would feel the soreness of the operation.

When Gidyne sat back down, he asked whether Kaito had questions, and how he’d want the two of them to operate closely to improve the running of the village. There was not much Kaito wondered about at the nonce, however he needed to demystify one of the aspects of Gydine’s assessment of his installment. “You are wrong on one thing, Lord Raikage. Your installment was completely orthodox; you defeated the conqueror who gained the right to be called Raikage, so you earned that title as well. The way I see it, you are the Gods’ punishment due to the Kumogakure. If we had been stronger, we might’ve been able to stand up to the invasion. But we weren’t. So, if there is one thing I would like to know, it is how you plan on improving the strength of the village and of the ninja. And if I may give my own suggestion immediately, it would be a Rule of Two, an ancient legend of power. One strong shinobi who can be paired with a weaker shinobi; the stronger shinobi will yield the power, the weaker one will covet it. In this process, the weaker shinobi can become as powerful as the stronger shinobi. If we pair weak shinobi with stronger shinobi, the stronger shinobi can improve the power of the weaker one. I myself tried to take in four students at once, but that went horribly. I couldn’t pay enough attention to each one, so we ended up with two dead students, one retired student, and lastly, I lost my position to the last student. With the Rule of Two, a deeper bond can be formed, and power can be more effectively cultivated within the lower ranks.”

The Raikage sat and heard in earnest, somewhat unsettlingly so if Kaito were to be honest with himself. He rocked in his chair from time to time, considering the words the redhead laid out before him, the plan to bring about a stronger Kumogakure. When he was done, the Raikage stroked his beard as a wisened philosopher might when pondering important questions, before allowing a grin to slash across his face and opening his mustache hairs as though it were a fan as the man commented on his plan.

The tall black haired man went to a fridge, producing a wine bottle, and two glasses from a cupboard; the characteristic popping sound of the cork being pulled away rang beautifully within Kaito’s ears, and the swirling image accompanied by the sound painted a picture the redhead could not quite decipher in terms of emotion. Decorum on the part of the Raikage towards one he considered someone of high status, perhaps close enough to an equal or someone who could command respect? He wasn’t a man who dealt with wine drinkers, after all. Sake or moonshine, that was more his pace. The statement confirmed at least partially what he had thought earlier: the kage tolerated Kaito. It was more than Kaito could say for most people he knew, so he would again empathize with the kage and in identifying a part of himself within the man brought him more appreciation and acceptance for his presence. The now jonin approached the desk and took the glass into his hand, bringing it closer to his nose so as to appreciate the delicate notes and fragrances that would play within the nasal cavity, such an important component of the tasting experience, before allowing himself to bring the glass to his lips and letting the elegant liquid tumble gently onto his mouth, rushing down his tongue and dancing with his senses for the moment, before gulping it down his throat where the low but present alcohol would invigorate him for the briefest of moments.

Then, the files were brought up.

The first picture was of the late Ghost Hyuuga. For a second, Kaito saw the collapsed orbital bones around his left eye and blood streaming down from it, the charred remains of the right eye and a burn mark of the cursed seal of the Hyuuga on his forehead. A blink of his eye showed the regular image of his former student. Immediately Kaito’s stomach sank, wondering where the Kage was about to take this conversation. The kage spoke of the story, how he had claimed Ghost escaped, when in actuality Ghost had been killed for the crimes he committed against the village. The fact he wasn’t captured and interrogated was also a wonder to Kaito, and to this day he wasn’t sure he had made the right decision, except for the folk wisdom of putting down mad dogs. As Gidyne spoke of how it was a wonder that he would know to track down Ghost and murder him in spite believing he couldn’t pay enough attention to each member of the team, the tattooed jonin kept his composure. It would do no good to interrupt the Kage as he spoke, because he seemed to be building up his case, and Kaito had to wonder where he would be going with it.

Rayul’s face was the one to look at him next. Perhaps Kaito’s greatest failure as a master. Rayul had been scheduled to track a criminal with Ghost, yet Kaito robbed Rayul of his partner without a moment’s hesitation. He had sent out word to Rayul about Ghost’s ceremonial burial, in hopes to catch him before his mission, alas, too late. Rayul set off on his own, and no one ever saw him again. The kage explained the pattern seemed to be death or escape for Kaito’s pupils, even bringing up Hikaru Renkaio, a bright lad in his own right, who retired, and Zento Yuki, his student turned master.

Once again the talk about Kaito’s actions being a possible attempt at benefiting himself were brought up; he had heard the rumors, after all, none of which he ever paid any mind as they were unfounded. It was true that he took the eye of his pupil, but that seemed more practical at the time to keep such a valuable weapon within the grasp of the Kumogakure. Ghost himself had forfeit his rights to be treated as a ninja of the Kumogakure once he attacked the genin of the village while pretending to be an invading ninja. Yet the Kage brought a very good point to the forefront; if ninja of the Kumogakure prized strength above all else, what was there to stop a strong Noboru to steal from a weaker Ghost whenever they pleased if the Ghosts of the Kumogakure could not speak out against Noborus?

Noboru kept his stance; his abdomen was starting to regain sensation, and soon the soreness of the violent act against his humanity would start sending out pain through his body. He powered through the beginning phase, unwilling to allow weakness to spill out of his mortal vessel, holding on to the glass at diaphragm height on his right hand, while the left hand stayed at his back, a soldier at heart at all times. He was not sure what to answer to the Kage; of course he wanted to be a trusted soldier, someone who could protect the Kumogakure. However, did the Kage want Kaito to say he would not betray him in the future if he turned rogue? The implications in the sentence left a sour taste in his mouth, one even the fine wine would not wash away after he had another hearty sip.

What are you after, Noboru Kaito?

You think so little of yourself to degrade yourself to a tool used by greater men for their own ploys.

The question of the Raikage was answered in the delicate yet strained voice of the nubile white haired cook Katsumi Nakiri, his lifelong rival and recently the closest friend he ever hurt without ever laying a finger on her. The tide of bitterness and regret washed the shores of his psyche once more, facilitated by the imbibed wine. It seemed every step asked out of him was in a direction he could never be certain of the result, the only guiding light his own resolve ensuring him that it was the best that could be done. How could he be confident in his ability when he was so sure he could never face the true monsters of the world? Reports of Kenshin Uzumaki filled his head, how he would stomp out entire outer posts of Kumogakure shinobi with seeming ease. What hope could Kaito have of facing such a monster? Compared to him, all of his accomplishments paled, and so too the light of his resolve faded.

When Gidyne’s skin began to clear, his hair shrinking and his beard being devoured by his jaw, Kaito’s eyebrows furrowed. What was happening? The features were familiar, but it were the eyes that awakened within him the flame that had been sparked on that fateful night. Kaito’s grip seemed to have been more than the glass could handle; it shattered in his hand and bit into his skin with his help. As wine and blood decorated the floor, Kaito kept his hand firmly on his chest, holding on to the stem of the shattered glass, holding into the disappointed and bored eyes of a man who had seen too much at such a young age. Kutari Uchiha was the name of the no longer Nameless Conqueror. He spoke of himself for a while, a deep insight considering how little he had known of the man. He spoke as if the tragedy of his past and the apparent lack of direction dwarfed the power he possessed, which had allowed him to wipe out so many good Kumo nin, or even the Tailed Beast which he so impetuously challenged without a care in the world. He spoke bluntly, too, and that was far fitting what Kaito had expected the first time around.

He had some things right, of course. Kaito was not yet an old man, but acted as one, filled with regret, waiting to die. Yet, here he stood, waiting to hear from their leader how he planned to make the village grow. He didn’t have anything to say to his questions, to be honest, so he would have to speak from his heart.

“When I said you were the punishment of the Gods, I didn’t mean you were one of them yourself. Perhaps I overreached in my assessment, mainly because of my particular religious beliefs. I believe after we die, we are faced with great gates, and beyond those gates are allowed only those strong enough to take their destinies into their hands and die with weapon in hand. When you killed my countrymen, they were on their knees. They are destined to wander the darkness that looms outside the gates. I intend to pass the gates. To dine in a great hall for eternity, to exchange tales of combat, to hone my skills with sword and spear alike.”

He took a moment to put down the stem of the broken glass, and look at his bloodied hand, before looking back at Kutari.

“My failures made me who I am. Since the last time we met in the hospital, I came to realize whenever I fell down, I got back twice as strong. I knelt to you once, became a jonin, trained a team, grew in power. I was too proud to admit I wasn’t enough to fill in the shoes you left behind though, and I lost my team and position because of that. I fell down, and got back up with the eyes of Uchiha and Hyuuga alike. Both of them had been from ninjas of the Kumogakure; just because they died, didn’t mean I would let such valuable weapons go to waste. I got back up, and became stronger for it.”

“I presented the Rule of Two to you not out of fear or regret. My failures taught me a valuable lesson: working with teams will not do in these times of strife. If I had worked alone with Ghost Hyuuga, I might’ve seen he was reckless earlier, and I could’ve tempered his spirit with discipline. If I had worked alone with Rayul Tenuchi, I might’ve seen how the pride in his talents and his clan could’ve blinded him, and worked with him to focus him into a better weapon. If I had worked alone with Hikaru Renkaio, I might’ve seen a fall of grace with the shinobi world, and could’ve showed him the ways of the shinobi so as to make him into a great warrior. If I worked alone with Zento, I might’ve recognized his wisdom and strength, and the two of us could’ve worked together to make each other stronger.”

“None of it comes from a place of fear or regret. These failures just showed me one way in which it could not work: the world is too dangerous to wait for an entire squad to grow together; just as true now as it was in my day. It comes from an understanding that we are in desperate need of strong ninja, and we need them stronger earlier. If the strong lend all their attention and focus onto a single student they can mold, mayhaps we can still call ourselves a Major Village without feeling like we’re lying to ourselves and our people.”

He pondered for a second, thinking back to the old days where his own team fell apart, which forced him to take up cooking as a means to survive rather than staying within the village’s ninja force, then taking a deep breath before resuming.

“It is true I am not entirely confident in my skillset. After all, I have only tested myself against those weaker than me, and the few that could be considered to be on my level were either victories I could not appreciate… or Zento. But I never allowed that to stop me from growing. I have new bloodlines within me, and power beyond my earliest comprehension. However, I never utilized all of my potential violence. So, in truth, it’s not that I don’t fear the monsters anymore, I just haven’t been able to fully realize that I am just as brutal and violent as the rest of them. I've always managed to make do with a few key techniques. How could I ever see myself as a God among men, when all I have done is act like a murderous man?” He shrugged. “I can’t. Until the time where I am forced to fight with everything I have to survive, I will always have doubts in the back of my head.”

He wouldn’t just blaber to the Kage about his Mangekyou Sharingan, the technique it held, or the Eight Inner Gates he could open in order to ascend his mortality. Ninjas tended to write that down in files so they could prepare to meet such ninja in battle appropriately; if ever Kaito was set upon by someone who had read his file, he wished to have a few techniques up his sleeve no one knew of in order to gain the upper hand and emerge victorious from such encounters. One thing this job had taught him was a healthy paranoia.

“Yet, I truly believe in my plan. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t. I don’t want to cower or wallow in the mistakes of the past. I would use all my regrets as fuel for the furnace in which we can forge a better Kumogakure. A stronger Kumogakure.”

“I have my own sob story. But it does not define me. The only thing that defines me is my quest for power, power that I can use to protect my homeland. My goal is not personal glory. It’s the glory of the village. The safety of the citizens. The quality of the steel they choose to empower themselves. And most of all, hope.”

It seemed for all his talk, the Raikage was not convinced; that much had stayed true since their last meeting, or more accurately, the last time the two met while the Raikage looked like Kutari rather than Gidyne. A distaste for words was a mark of greatness in Kaito’s books, as words were a means to an end, but could at best be a dishonest means to an end. Not that there was anything inherently wrong about it, after all, that was the entire purpose of ninjas: to deceive and manipulate, sabotage and destroy.

This was not one of the cases in which speech would be a weapon though. In spite of Kaito’s earlier doubts regarding the intentions of Kutari’s words, it appeared he was genuinely worried about the redhead, both his mentality as well as his usefulness. The truth was apparent to Kutari, even if the redhead didn’t get it at first. It had been true that his conquests had been low hanging fruits, and he said as much himself when he mentioned he hadn’t had the opportunity to express himself in all of his potential violence. Not only that, he had failed to perform, nothing to be ashamed of in a man, but somewhat of a shame for a professional warrior. But the golden eyed youth didn’t speak out of spite or cruelty. It was just blunt honesty, and whether it stung or not was something for Kaito to deal with internally. A second and final opportunity was all Kaito would need.

“To the death”, he thought to himself, a cryptic but relevant thought.

He rose up and spoke of the Summit of Kages, a summons from the Sunagakure. Kaito had not been able to keep up with the political scene, to be frank, so lost was he in his own world. The black haired conqueror spoke of Konoha and Kiri being a risk, something Kaito felt it was a good assertion, as Konoha was Kiri’s vassal to this day, and even though there had been no news of Xyxer in the world, something must have happened that allowed Kiri to maintain their hold over the giants in the Land of Fire.

Perhaps they were as weak as the Kumogakure.

Kaito would be invited in the bodyguard capacity, it would seem. To be among the monsters of the world and watch the back of one such monster. To allow the cook to die, and be reborn from the ashes anew, a nightmare in his own right. “Win no matter the cost”. Right. “No worries, Lord Raikage.” In spite of their new relationship, what with them opening up to each other in pursuit of a better morrow for the village, he felt honorifics were still in place.

With all that, he was informed he would be departing on the day to come. An interesting prospect. As he made to leave, Kutari called out once more, to offer one last piece of advice. A man who stood for nothing would fall for everything, it seemed. “Thank you, Lord Raikage. I will keep that in mind.”

As he left for a trip to the hospital to remove the broken glass from his hand and get the cuts fixed, he pondered on the words of the Kage. Confidence. Risk taking. Assuredness. Important traits for him to incorporate onto his being, if he wanted to grow powerful and secure his place in the annals of history. He had once again taken the knee figuratively, and he would grow stronger from this yet again.