Make peace with the enemy (solo training)

The brutal truth of loss was that life went on. How do you move forwards following tragedy? How do you find your place in a world that’s moved on without you? How do you learn to forgive yourself for things you couldn’t change?

Lachesis still struggled to answer that question.

The war was over, and Konoha had lost. Most of her forces had long since abandoned the village for greener pastures.

But she couldn’t move on.

Even if they didn’t have the same amenities they used to, even if basic necessities became harder and harder to come by- she stayed.

Some people couldn’t leave. Civilians, the injured, whatever academy students or chuunin had managed to escape getting drafted by Kirigakure- and as long as those people were left behind, she couldn’t find it in herself to leave, either. Those who had left- even though she understood their reasoning, they’d left the by and large of the civilian populace near defenseless at the hands of whatever bandits felt like taking advantage, and for that, she couldn’t forgive them. Even in her weakened state, she’d strike them down no different than any other traitor.

The training facility loomed towering above her, and in spite of the crumbling infrastructure, the fact that it had once been part of a much more impressive facility was clear as the faces on the monuments. Nobody stopped her entry, the desk having remained unmanned in favor of more essential facilities, and she made her way to the most secluded spot she could.

When certain she wasn’t being watched, the Yuki let her composure fall. Were her mother still in the village, she’d have been proven right; being a ninja brought nothing but heartbreak. But she’d left, too.

Fuck.

She slumped against the wall, hair nearly falling loose against the wall as she put her head into her hands. She couldn’t leave. And she knew that she’d never be fit for any kind of leadership role- too self absorbed, too spiteful. Lachesis Yuki didn’t know Ishimaru that well, but the village hadn’t fallen apart any further, which… Was better than what she’d have done.

But that brought up the question- what was she going to do now? As the jounin sensei of a dead team, as a torturer who no longer had anything left to find, what use did she have?

…

She stood up. Her muscles tensed, still sore from disuse and injury, and she screamed.

There was nobody to hear but herself. Questions but no answers. Journey but no destination. Life with no purpose.

Her hands- calloused and scarred and pale- gleamed with nervous sweat in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Ice chakra flooded down her forearms, through her triceps, down to her wrists and fingers, until the cold started to burn. In a way, the pain was vindictive- this was what she deserved for her failure.

In spite of her lack of serious activity for the past few months, the handseals came easily. She thrust her palms forward, letting all energy exit in a frenzied rush that stung all the same. The air froze with a burst of frigid wind, forming a massive, jagged icicle almost as wide as she was tall that nearly scraped the ceiling.

Lachesis punched the construct again and again, letting branching spears emanate from the original with every strike until her knuckles were bloody and she didn’t have the heart to continue. The constructs melted slowly, then all at once into a puddle. It didn’t hurt- not with her bloodline- but for a moment she wished it did. Self pity didn’t get her anywhere, but it was the only coping mechanism she had left. Who’d listen to her? Surely the kage had better things to do.

…

Surely she had better things to do. Something- anything. She wasn’t the best with rebuilding, or civilians, or offering reassurance. But maybe something simple to get her back into the swing of things. Like it’d make any difference- but… As long as it helped a little, maybe to make her forget. Little steps added up, sooner or later.

Right?

…

One step at a time. She took a practice katana from a nearby wall- it was weighted decently, but was left unsharpened with a rusting handle. Perhaps that was why it wasn’t repurposed following the invasion. Her musculature was far from impressive- which was why it was important she work tirelessly to build it up- but it was enough to wield a simple blade light enough as this with enough ease for a few swings. Just to wipe off the rust, or so she told herself.

A few handseals, and another piller arose. This one was proportioned more modestly- still larger than a person, but not sizable enough to drain her chakra too horribly. And when she swung the sword, over and over again into the ice harder than her bones, she felt something resembling pride. Her world may have ended several times over by now, but for better or for worse, she was still here- and that had to count for something, right?

She continued like this for several minutes, willfully ignorant of the passage of time. With a final, echoing clang and the sound of clattering steel, the sword broke. Perhaps as a result of the force of her swings, or the cold making the metal brittle, she’d broken the only weapon she had on her.

Perhaps it was the stress of the situation, the burning in her fingers and arms, or the catharsis of letting go, but she huffed out a laugh. The icicle spear melted, leaving the floor soggy, but a quick surface walking and her feet didn’t even get wet. She poked the broken item with her foot, noting its ice-blue handle and black crossguard. “You’re no use to anyone like that,” she murmured.

The sword did not reply.

She couldn’t fix nor repurpose the sword. How fitting. Delicately, she reached down to pick up the two pieces, careful not to slice her fingers on its edges. The rust was oddly textured in the cold.

…

…

She should probably dispose of this- at least before some poor genin cuts themself and needs a tetanus shot. Lachesis made her way from the training field and towards the back end of the facility. Biohazard waste and other trash material were disposed of there, though without all the necessary power to run it, it was off as much as on.

The Yuki wasn’t always happy she survived the invasion, but… Like this, she still had use. Her gaze turned towards the broken sword. Just another tool, gone and forgotten. Himari Suzuki, Akihiko Nakamura.

Touya Akari.

…

She carefully unwrapped the ribbon from the hilt, cutting off a piece that was largely left untouched by time and tear alike, wrapping it around her existing bun after a moment’s consideration. It was stupid, pointless, and probably wouldn’t help in the slightest, but something about it felt vindicating.

The Konohan Yuki wiped beads of sweat off her brow, which then slicked off the moisture wicking fabric of her jounin vest. She wasn’t the most experienced with weaponry, or genjutsu, or much more than ninjutsu- but part of her wanted to be, now. Her footsteps clicked purposefully across the empty building, thoughts louder than any words could be.

Her dead were gone and buried along with hundreds of others’, but maybe taking some time to grieve was okay. Privately, of course.

How did one recover from trauma?

The answer was simple.

You had to learn to let go.

And it wouldn’t be today or tomorrow or even a few days from now that she’d learn it for herself, but… She wasn’t angry anymore. At Kirigakure, at the Kages, sure. But her truest enemy was and had always been herself.

It was her own ambition and folly that had brought her to become a ninja, her lack of preparation and arrogance that killed her team, and her own injury that prevented her from participating in the initial invasion. And it was herself she hated the most, herself who she punished by working until her hands bled and her eyes rimmed dark from sleep deprivation.

Therapy was frowned upon and severely underfunded in the Leaf, which had definitely caused more problems than otherwise. The stigma would be around for a while yet, most likely, but… She wrung her hands.

She needed to keep working, keep moving on. Lachesis pushed through the heavy doors, listening as they creaked ominously under their own weight and lack of maintenance alike.

The jounin was tired. Anger and grief were exhausting to maintain, and she needed to find a better outlet. Her mind flashed back towards the weapons- a new skill could potentially provide her with the coping mechanisms she needed.

But, for the present, she walked back to her home on the far end of the village, miraculously untouched by the conflict. All wasn’t well, but she didn’t hate herself anymore.

(Exit)

Total WC: 1,500
Claiming: 15 stats into speed & genjutsu tertiary specialty from 25% advanced training facility discount. ty

Approved.