Meeting between artists

in the outskirts of the village in the Land of Mountain, Yume was calmly painting again, working on her portrait of the region like she did in all her travels. The artist had acquired all manners of inks and brush of different types, and used it to perfect her landscape painting. As the wind brushed her purple hair in the fresh air of the morning, she waited for something, or someone, trying to get back knowledge of her passage here before. 

''hmm maybe I've crossed or came to this place before... Painting a key element of it would help me remember.'' said Yume to herself out loud, albeit not loudly.

Yoto, a puppeteer with a passion for detail and perfection, wandered the Land of Mountains in his search for the finest wood. He was looking for a wood that would be ideal for the last critical part of his puppet, a part that had to be a flawless piece of wood, very hard, yet easy to work. In the land of rain, the prevailing natural conditions were rather the opposite of what Yoto was looking for. Swamps and marshes were ubiquitous, and the fallen wood that resulted from the wet climate was badly rotten and unusable for his work. The land was known for its diversity and exceptional natural conditions, which offered a different kind of wood than what was available in his home. Yoto knew that this might be the place to find wood for his puppet. His eyes observed each tree, examining their bark and the condition of the trees. From rottenness, age, species, blemishes and quality all factors contributed to it and that included tree infestation by bark beetles or other wildlife..

While the weather outside is beautiful, inside the soul there are years of struggles, remorse, quarrels, self-rejection. I'm not responsible for actions I didn't do. Are we not one being? Our different choices only reflect different aspects of one self. We may be part of one body, but that doesn't mean your actions are my actions. At that moment, the memory of an event that happened many years ago flashes before his eyes. In the memory, there are splashes of blood on the wooden walls from the severed arteries. In the pool of blood are four little boys, barely 12 years old. They try to gasp for breath, but instead of air they are swallowing blood with tearful eyes caused by their impending end in agony. The thought disappears when he grabs his head and opens his eyes. You killed them! No, we killed them. Don't you remember what they did to you, the bullying? You're a monster! I am the embodiment of your anger, your desire, our revenge that you try to suppress because you are afraid of conflict. I may be many things, but I am not a coward unlike you. Silence!. Yoto was still far enough away from the nearest people who could hear this conversation. His voice bounced between quiet and monotone loud. One might think that perhaps he is possessed by an evil spirit when he suddenly changes the pitch and volume of his voices. It's as if one voice and the other don't belong to the same person. The voices were completely different. 

As Yoto approaches the spot where a lone woman stands just a few dozen feet away, it's as if all the internal conversations suddenly cease. For usually it takes place in such a way that it might differentiate reality from one's own inner self. And yet, at this moment, silence permeated the inside of his mind. His inner monologues, those varied conversations and arguments between his own opposites, were like the storms that surrounded him, known only to himself. Each time, it took place in isolation, when he was alone, when he could allow himself to explore all the thoughts that raced through his mind. But in front of this lonely woman, in front of her presence, everything seemed to become quiet. The inner voices, the insecurities and conflicts that usually pulsed like an endless stream of thoughts were suddenly stilled. Perhaps it was the significance of this encounter for him. Perhaps it was the way his gut instinctively reacted to some unknown impulse. But this moment was different.

Though his mind was usually a battleground of inner conflict, in the presence of this woman, peace now seemed to flood his insides. Her presence was like a switch - it stopped the flow of voices and conflict, temporarily bringing harmony, albeit unconsciously. The presence of other people brought with it something unexpected, a kind of suppression of the darkness, at least for a while. That's why he likes being in the company of other people so much. It is very difficult to be alone with his thoughts and the other person who resides in his head due to the congenital disease of the developing personality and schizophrenia. He slowly makes his way towards the woman, thinking he will approach her and see what she is creating here for a master
piece.

Ren Kurosawa's morning began in the embrace of nature's sanctuary. Within the moss-covered cave, he had found a haven that cradled him in comfort throughout the night. The cave, a silent witness to the passage of time, was adorned with nature's own artwork, as emerald mosses carpeted the cool stone floor and delicate ferns dangled from the rocky ceiling.

As the first tendrils of dawn stretched their fingers across the land, a soft and gentle light filtered into the cave, illuminating the hidden wonders within. The air was crisp and carried the earthy scent of damp moss and the faint aroma of wildflowers that grew in abundance nearby.

Outside the cave's mouth lay a small, tranquil pond, its surface a mirrored canvas that reflected the world above. Here, the local wildlife had gathered to greet the new day. Birds perched on overhanging branches, their melodious songs filling the air with joy. Deer and other forest creatures approached the pond to sip the clear waters, their movements graceful and serene.

Ren awoke from his slumber, feeling as if he had been cradled by the earth itself. He sat up on the mossy floor, his senses gradually awakening to the enchanting tableau that surrounded him. The soft chirping of birds and the gentle gurgling of the pond played a soothing symphony that stirred his soul.

With a gentle smile, Ren began his morning ritual. He brewed a cup of tea from the herbs he had collected the day before, allowing the fragrant steam to swirl around him like incense in a sacred temple. The taste was as pure and invigorating as the morning air.

Ren sat by the cave's entrance, gazing out at the pond and its inhabitants. He felt a deep connection to the natural world, a sense of belonging that filled him with a profound peace. This was his moment of communion with the wild, a chance to draw inspiration from the wonders of creation before he embarked on his journey through the mountainside.

As he sipped his tea and watched the wildlife at the pond, Ren's heart brimmed with gratitude for the simple beauty of the world around him. It was a tranquil morning, a perfect prelude to the adventure that awaited him on the sun-kissed mountain trail, a testament to the harmony he carried within his wandering soul.

His journey through the majestic mountainside had begun with the first rays of dawn, as the world awoke to the promise of a new day. The sun, a radiant orb of golden fire, bathed the rugged terrain in a cascade of warm, honeyed light. Its gentle embrace cast long, inviting shadows that danced across the mountain's contours.

The air was crisp, with just a hint of a refreshing breeze that carried with it the invigorating scent of pine and the earthy aroma of moss-covered rocks. It was a day when the wind sang its own melody, a harmonious tune that brushed against Ren's cheeks like a tender caress. It ruffled the leaves of the ancient trees, setting them in a gentle, swaying waltz.

Ren's steps, light and sure, carried him along the winding mountain path, each footfall a part of the rhythm of the natural world. The trail was a tapestry of colors, adorned with wildflowers in vibrant shades of red, purple, and gold, their petals nodding in time with the song of the wind. Butterflies, like delicate notes of music, flitted between the blooms, adding to the symphony of life.

The mountainside stretched out before him like a grand canvas, its contours and crevices painted in hues of emerald and sienna. Rocky outcrops, like ancient sentinels, stood guard along the path, their surfaces bathed in the sun's gentle radiance. Birds of all kinds soared overhead, their joyful calls punctuating the serene landscape.

As Ren journeyed farther along the trail, he felt an exhilarating sense of freedom, as though the very mountains themselves had opened their arms to welcome him. The wind, ever playful, tugged at his cloak and tousled his hair, as if inviting him to join in its timeless dance.

And so, amidst the splendor of the mountainside on this sun-kissed, gently breezy day, Ren's heart was filled with a profound sense of harmony. It was a day when the world seemed to be painted with the brushstrokes of a master artist, and every step was a note in the symphony of life. Little did he know that ahead lay an encounter that would add a new and beautiful chapter to his journey through this enchanting realm.

The journey had been a meandering odyssey through the rugged mountainside, as Ren Kurosawa's feet carried him across ancient paths and secret valleys. The world had felt vast, lonely, and untouched by the harmony of music for quite some time. His footsteps, like whispers of a forgotten ballad, echoed against the stone walls of the mountain pass.

The air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of moss-covered rocks and the distant murmur of cascading waterfalls. As Ren trod along the narrow, winding trail, the towering trees provided a verdant canopy that shielded him from the harsh rays of the sun. The world was alive with the chirping of unseen birds and the distant cries of wildlife.

Under the watchful gaze of the setting sun, the mountain stood tall and resolute, its rocky crags and ancient trees stretching toward the heavens. It was here, at this serene and isolated place, that two souls had found their sanctuary. One, a figure cloaked in artistic fervor, stood perched upon the rocky ledge, deftly wielding a paintbrush like a conductor's wand. The other, a silent observer, had already made this sacred mountaintop their canvas.

As the cool breeze swept through the tranquil landscape, Ren, the wandering minstrel of this world, arrived on their position. He emerged from the shadowed trail, a joyful spring in his step, and his heart brimming with delight at the prospect of human companionship. It had been too long since he had crossed paths with kindred spirits in this vast and often desolate world.

With each step, Ren's presence grew, like the crescendo of a musical symphony, announcing his arrival to the two artists. His approach was punctuated by the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle echo of birdsong.

"Ah, what a splendid meeting of souls we have here!" Ren exclaimed, his voice carrying the warmth of a thousand suns. "To find kindred spirits in the heart of nature's canvas is a blessing beyond words."

Ren, adorned in a cloak of vibrant colors, his own canvas of melodies, moved closer, his presence weaving a tapestry of camaraderie amid the towering peaks and the fading hues of the evening sky.

"I am Ren Kurosawa, a humble traveler and a seeker of stories," he declared, his eyes sparkling like stars. "And who might you both be, guardians of this mountain's secrets and creators of its artistry?"

Yoto observes a young woman sitting with a white cloth on her lap. Her eyes are fixed on the blank surface, which gradually begins to change into the outline of what could be the beginning of a painting. She doesn't even seem to register him as he remains in the shadows, watching her silent process unfold right in front of him.T he brush in her hands dances across the canvas with a delicacy and precision that reveals a deeper understanding of art. Every brushstroke is thoughtful and carefully executed. Gradually, elements appear on the canvas, developing into contours and shapes.Yoto watches this process with fascination. He not only watches the painting take shape under the girl's hands, but is also fascinated by how she seems to be absorbed in the creative act itself. Her focus and passion are evident, even though she seems completely unconcerned with her surroundings, absorbed in her own world.

Yoto observes a young woman sitting with a white cloth on her lap. Her eyes are fixed on the blank surface, which gradually begins to change into the outline of what could be the beginning of a painting. She doesn't even seem to register him as he remains in the shadows, watching her silent process unfold right in front of him.The brush in her hands dances across the canvas with a delicacy and precision that reveals a deeper understanding of art. Every brushstroke is thoughtful and carefully executed. Gradually, elements appear on the canvas, developing into contours and shapes. Yoto watches this process with fascination. He not only watches the painting take shape under the girl's hands, but is also fascinated by how she seems to be absorbed in the creative act itself. Her focus and passion are evident, even though she seems completely unconcerned with her surroundings, absorbed in her own world. Yoto took a moment to immerse himself in watching the woman and the process unfold on the screen. It was like immersing himself in a kind of silence, a world that surrounded him but was also beyond his reach.

However, as time went on, he began to return to a state where he began to perceive his surroundings. He shifted his attention from the girl on the canvas to the woods and the trees whose leaves rustled gently in the wind. You're here for something other than watching women, he thought. He came back to his perception of his surroundings, to the peace that the mountains and nature provided. As Yoto began to take in his surroundings again, he gradually turned his attention to the surrounding forest. Slowly he examined the trees, observing their variety and characteristics. After looking for a while, he discovered just the types of trees he was looking for. It was obvious at first glance. These trees were upright and strong, with smooth bark that spoke of their health and well-aged wood. Their leaves were a deep green colour and seemed full of life. Given their height and the diameter of their trunk, it was obvious that they were of excellent growth and that they had had many years in this forest area.

With a smile on his face, Yoto approached these trees. When he got closer to them, he found even more to be excited about. The wood of these trees was exactly what he was looking for for the critical part of his puppet. It was hard, but at the same time it seemed surprisingly easy to work with. With excitement and gratitude for what he had just discovered, he carefully selected a suitable piece of wood and confidently cut away from the tree. He was exceedingly pleased with the quality and condition of the wood he found. With care and skill, he began to work on his chosen piece of wood. After a while of working, he was left with only about a 20 by 15 cm piece of wood resembling a rectangle. It was a piece that carried potential and quality for his creative purposes. Yoto noticed that the shadows of the trees gradually impaired the visibility of the work that awaited him. He needed more light to do the precise work on the piece of wood he had chosen. He decided to move closer to the girl, as the sun brought better illumination there.

He slowly moved to where the girl was working on her canvas, looking for the sunlight to illuminate his work area. He wanted enough light to work with the wood so he could be precise and precise. With care and skill, Yoto began to work on his chosen piece of wood. With delicate and precise movements he began to carve, shape and smooth the surface of the wood. His fingers were dexterous and delicate, while the tool he used revealed ever clearer outlines of his future creation. Every cut and every finish was made with attention to detail and precision. The sawdust that separated from the wood fell quietly and with a slight rustle to the ground. Every movement of the tool in Yot's hands was accompanied by a rounded sawdust that slowly accumulated on the ground around him.

Yoto was absorbed in his work, but his powers of observation were undoubtedly sharper than the girl's. As he busied himself with the fine woodworking, he noticed movement at the edge of his field of vision. The young shinobi was necessarily approaching, though his movement was quiet and remarkably inconspicuous. Yoto noticed it. His senses, armed with the experience of many years of living in the wilderness, instinctively picked up even the slightest change in his surroundings. Even though he seemed absorbed in his work, he had a slight glimmer of alertness that allowed him to sense the new presence. Without showing any hint of reaction, he let it approach him. He was mindful of maintaining a calm and seemingly innocent expression, though his mind was on edge. When the young man began to speak, Yoto gave him his full attention. He listened to his words with calm and interest, while his face remained calm and peaceful. When he finished his narration, Yoto chuckled slightly. From the looks in his eyes, it was slightly absurd that Rem thought they had anything in common with Yume. 


You're obviously very talkative for an artist. Yoto replies with amusement while turning to Yume who is obviously ignoring the world as an artist. Don't be fooled, but I have absolutely no interest in art or artists. I'm a creator of weapons and mechanisms that kill people, not some painter or poet or anything like that. He declares in a matter-of-fact, informative tone of voice. All the while, he continues to work the wood in his hands without necessarily watching his hands. He was quite skilled at it, and it certainly wasn't his first time doing it

Yume was very focused on her painting. At first, keeping her eyes closed to bask into the feeling and athmosphere of the land of mountain, the purple haired girl was slolwy breathing the fresh air of the mountains, filling both her lungs and mind with new found inspiration, as well as a type of symphony for her imagination. As she opened her eyes without saying anything, the young artist started to paint in the most elegant way, her brush strokes moving in fluid motion like an agile ray dancing and twirling in the deep water of the sea. Her lines were refined like luxurious jewlery but also simple, reminiscing of the bare landscare she was curently in. As the portrait of the visible landscape started to appear in the most basic lines, Yume continued to pain as swiftly and graciously as the wind, more akin to a sort of dance and martial art of the arms than of traditional painting. Of course, while she painted, a few others were curious to see her work, and even if she seemed almost in a trance like situation when painting, she was well aware of her suroundings and did not fail to notice the two others approaching.

 The first to arrive was a young man endrapped in a large and thick cloak. As she turned her head toward the presence, she saw a young man, tall and slim like herself, but with the posture on an old man or an injured person, all crooked and almost placed like a hunchback. He wore a large green cloak covering his head and figure, over a red and brown robes of some sort, the outfit of a traveler, or an hermit even. His long auburn hair locks flowed out of the hood, and his face was that of someone shocked as he looked at Yume seemingly flabergasted. With not a lot of understanding either, Yume face lighted up, her smile contagious, and her eyes rising from her cheekbones as she smiled, closing a bit in a sing of benevolance and goodwill. The man didnt talk but seemed to sit beside her to maybe enjoy the peacefullness and started to work on a wooden sculpture. Ah, a fellow artist! What a joy it was to find herself among others of such talent and care, taking hours to perfect and master their craft. She smiled even more and pressed her painting.

As she painted the first outline of the mountain far in front of her with her brush in light shades of black lines, fine, soft, to only create the rough shape of what was to come in the large scroll, she did so with grace, elegance and swiftness, her movement fluid like water dancing in a fountain, aerial like the wind that envelop hair or ruffle leaves into a tree, but sure and strong like the blade of a certain samurai, killing to execute his paramount duty. Her paintings not only was magnificient, it was also done with body movements from its artist that invoqued almost a ceremony of some sort taking place while sitting the traditionnal way, her legs straight and folded, her butt resting on her heels. But suddently, a presence arrive beside the purple haired painted, and she stop in her tracing of the layout of the landscape, gently placing back the thin brush she was using onto a small bamboo shoot on the side, her holster for painting brushes of all sort.

The man was very joyfull, and seemed to have a contagious presence of positivity and radiance, gleaming with his fair skin, long brown hair and colorfull traveler robes. He seemed also to carry around a form of musical instrument, tho Yume was unaware of what instrument it was. Another artist? Whoah Yume was really lucky today! As she continued to paint, the man introduced himself with joy to the two sitting, and his words flowed like ink on a canvas, falling into Yume ears and feeling as sweet as honey on the tongue. He presented himself as Ren kurosawa, and Yume wanted to present too. before she could tho, the other man beside her answered the newcomer of the musical perception. He said he wasnt an artist, only a creator of weapons and engines designed to kill!

As the ambiance suddently sinked into a dark corner, Yume felt a bit taken aback by this comment. Surely this man must have been living a hard life to think that what he did wasnt art, and that the act of combat and lethality didnt carry a beauty and artistry to it. After a couple of seconds of interminable silence, Yume broke the silence and decided to introduce herself too, encouraging the serious and austere wood carver to do the same.


''Oh well hello there! The view is quite beautifull isnt it? Im always impressed by the wonders of nature. Its why I paint them! see ? this is only the beguining of this one there. Its memories, and the expression of my soul, right there, as well of the soul of the region we are in. Inks and brushes alone arent much, but together, they can create life again.... Anyways, ahah! I am getting carried away. My name is Yume. Nice to meet you Ren. '' Said Yume, her demeanor inviting, calm and intrigued. Of course, with her bandages, she seemed hurt or injured, but it was a way to hid her less than desirable scars from her time as a slave, as well as to hide her dychotomic eye from the pretty one.

''How about you? What is your name? You say you have no love for art and artists, but you are one nonetheless! Creating weapons and mean to kill is an art, even if its an art more grounded to the arsh world we live in than music or paintings. What are you building with this wood ? Would I be mistaken to guess you are a puppet wielder and making your very own puppet here and now?'' asked Yume this time to the cloaked figure. As she sat there, waiting an answer from the man, she looked at him, seeing on his face how he seemed troubled, and she wanted to know him more, his situation, and if he needed help.

Ren, the wandering minstrel, admires the woman's drawing for a moment before he pulls back his head in astonishment. "My lord! That drawing is already turning out gorgeous! You know? Look at this!" He reaches into his pack, and what materializes from it is a journal with a drawing of a bird on it.



"I had run into this beauty while I was traveling here a little while ago. I can't believe the beauty in these lands. The small villages tucked away within the mountains, the lakes and oh my goodness the rivers! Such a beautiful place and I have been pretty much everywhere at least once."

He turns to the man that claims he doesn't create art. "I mean I believe it truly depends on what you consider art. Even the man who makes weapons and puppets for the desire of killing another can consider it art, depends on if you put your whole heart into it, I believe!" He then begins flipping through his journal until he finds some drawings that he feels this new friend would be interested in. He finds the page and shows it to him.




"These are some drawings that I made while I was in the land of Sand. I always thought this was the pinnacle of mixing combat with artistry. It truly is beautiful, but not something I ever tried to achieve." He turns back to the woman drawing, the one who spoke on memories. "Tell me, what did you mean when you spoke that the drawings are memories? Are they something you want to create as memories? Or are they a means of bringing up memories from your past into the present in the form of art?"

Yoto bit into his work intently, delicately carving what part of the puppet he could from the lowest quality wood that could be found in the ordinary countryside. His fingers moved with grace and precision, seemingly dancing over the wood as it began to change into an elegant shape under his deft hands. His movements were graceful, almost hypnotic, and though he gave no indication that he was even listening, he was taking in every word from Yume's mouth. His face showed not only concentration, but also an inner harmony with what Yume was telling him.

„It's actually kind of funny that you're occupying yourself with art that has no practical function. Both of you”. Yoto looks at Yume and Ren who shows some scribbles on paper. „Deja vu, memories from the past... These are just lame excuses for drowning in your own self-pity. Chakras and connection to nature?  He asks mockingly. Pretending that you're getting your memories back, well, that's pretty embarrassing. Art without function is just a useless thing, and you're wasting your time in it that you could be investing in more useful things."Yoto suddenly froze and quickly grabbed his head, his face indicating a confused expression. He didn't last long and tried to calm himself down, but something seemed to be bothering him, as if a sharp pain was overwhelming him. He closed his eyes for a moment and then tried to relax, looking like he was trying to deal with it, until he finally relaxed and looked back at Yume with suppressed pain in his eyes.

„I'm sorry, I'm feeling a little confused and lost right now, like something is overwhelming me. I'm sorry if my words sounded wrong. I do have issues with the other personality at times getting over my own control and saying things I wouldn't normally say. I too have been through tough times, I have my own challenges and struggles. I have no choice but to deal with it and look for a way to find stability. Your skill, your involvement in all of this, is really something to be admired. You're an extremely strong person who can deal with a lot of things." After apologizing, he pauses for a moment and then shifts his attention to Ren. He hadn't planned to have any philosophical debates about art, but he still wanted to explain his attitude towards art as such from his position. His gaze was focused, trying to find the right words.


„A moment, please," he finally said as he tried to gather his thoughts. „Hmm, for me, art has more to do with its practical applications than the spiritual. I see things through their utility and meaningfulness rather than seeking a deeper spiritual meaning. For me, art is more about functionality." Yoto says this in a tone that makes it clear he doesn't want to discuss it too much. He then shifts his attention back to the piece of wood that is slowly but surely beginning to take its final form. He'd be interested in joining them later in a more comfortable setting, but until the last part is done, he's not going anywhere anyway.

The words from the purple-haired woman would take Ren aback. "I say that is just awful! To have lost one's memory is to lose oneself, and that's truly a horrid thought. Thanks to my ability to sway the mind, I have gone through many years of dwindling on where I came from and the tragedy that began my journey out here, but since, I have learned that there is beauty in everything. If you ever need help restoring or finding your memories, I would love to aid you in your quest to do so." Ren would say with the warmest grin he could craft. He would place a hand on her shoulder as the second conversation member would speak.

The words he spoke were harsh, ugly even. But, of course, Ren continued to smile. In the face of adversity, Ren did not dawdle on the thoughts of harsh words, for they were plentiful but not as abundant as his patience and kindness. "I see that you feel-" He began but was interrupted by the same man who seemed to... change. He grabbed onto his head and seemed to gain control of himself. Ren's gentle smile turned a somewhat worried look upon his face. "Oh my... Are you okay?" Then, the man would begin speaking again, still having a different opinion on art but with not such a hostile means to convey it. He explained the issue he had with his mind, a struggle to maintain control of his personality, which Ren noted in the back of his mind. I will be keeping this in mind for future conversations He thought to himself.

"I'm so sorry that you feel overwhelmed. Would you like to speak more about what is happening with you, friend?" Ren says as he presents a calming demeanor to the man, open palms showing to convey no aggression towards him. His smile lessened not to seem condescending but to be more serious about the man's feelings. "You both seem to be troubled by issues of the mind, which is truly awful. I empathize with you both." He turns to the woman, "I would love to go to a place where we may share a meal. It would be a great change of scenery. Your painting is gorgeous; I love it. Maybe one of these days I can make a painting of you. My brushes would be honored to have such a muse for their adventures. As I would be to wield them." Ren said with a bow toward her, with a mind encapsulated by her beauty and charm, obviously raptured by her honesty and truthfulness to her own feelings and understandings. His playful and joyous eyes then perked up, "I know just the place for us to go. It's not far from here, and there is an exceptional cherry blossom tree for us to enjoy the day under."

He would then begin walking the way he had come, knowing that the small village was only an hour or so away and they would be more than pleased with the beauty it held just for them. Should they agree to travel, he would tell them all about the legends and stories he had learned, about the mighty sea serpent in the ocean and the forest spirits that protected this quaint little village they were headed to. He would even sing their songs should they be inclined to request them.

With respect, Ren would bow before them both. "I surely do hope to see you both again! He then retreated to the depths of the world, ready for his next adventure.

[EXIT]
TWC: 2020
Claims:
+10 AP (Bringing total bonus AP to 530)
+471 towards Eye Mind Reading (Complete) (Previous Progress)
Memorizing both others in this thread's chakra signature
+858 towards Seal Writing (complete) (Previous Progress)
+691 towards Yin Healing Wound Destruction (691/2500)