Sato Hibiki - Bad News on the Doorstep

Spoiler:

For once Hibiki had taken care in his appearance, ensuring his clothing was washed and any knicks or tears meticulously repaired. He had even brushed his hair to make it less unruly. As much as Hibiki preferred the rough and ready look he knew there were times when it was not appropriate, and this was certainly one of those occasions. Usually, he approached each mission with excitement and relish but he did not imagine there would be any joy or fun to be extracted from his mission today. His mother had found out about the mission, there was no way she couldn’t, especially when he asked for help mending his clothes and ensuring they were as clean as possible. Nothing could have been more obvious that something serious was happening. She had strongly protested saying it wasn’t right for a child. Hibiki had protested at that in return and argued it was an honour to be asked and a solemn duty, besides he had to face this side of the shinobi world sooner or later so why not now.

He carried out his final checks in the mirror and tried to place a bright smile on his face and even that seemed hollow and his body seemed to resist the effort to emote an emotion that on any normal day would come as easy as breathing. Hibiki took a final breath to steady himself and headed out. He waited just passed the village gates and knew that it would not take long for the first part of his mission to begin. It was only a short while, but it felt much longer to Hibiki who stood dutifully still, for once determined to stand still as long as required. Finally, a fellow Kumo Anbu operative appeared in front of him with body flicker and offered a dark blue scroll with red edging and binding that kept it tightly tied closed. Hibiki took the scroll and was unable to repress a slight shake of the hand as he did so and did not even notice the ANBU ninja body flicker away, to some other assignment no doubt.

Hibiki looked at the scroll sullenly for a few minutes disconnectedly, wondering how he could be holding the corpse of a fellow Kumo ninja in the palm of his hand. Of course, he understood the basics of sealing arts but it the moral and philosophical questions that held him transfixed, unable to fully process that it he might easily be handed over in a similar scroll one day. It was a lot for the 12-year-old genin to process. Hibiki chose instead to push the intrusive and disturbing thoughts to the side and press on with his mission. He placed the scroll securely inside his inner jacket pocket before setting off at a good pace towards the mission centre where he was to hand over the scroll and in doing so the body and equipment of the fallen shinobi. He had been informed what would happen to it next as this information was required in order to carry out the second part of his duties. Perhaps the worst part. Hibiki waited for the returning messenger who brought the fallen ninja’s headband. Hibiki grimaced at the scorched sections and darkly stained fabric, telling of a battle and a sacrifice for the interests of the village and the Land of Lightning. He placed it carefully in his equipment pouch, with no small amount of reverence. Once it was stowed, he briefly touched his own headband that proudly displayed the Kumogakure symbol dangling around his neck.

He double checked the route to the Tanahori house and walked slowly, dragging his feet as he rehearsed what he was supposed to say. As he did so he could not help recall the brief details of Tanahori Isehara, Chuunin, 16 years of age, Taijutsu specialist. Daughter. Sister. Killed in battle at an undisclosed location on an undisclosed mission. It was not comforting to know that this was the tragic fate of many shinobi but each of them had made there choice. He found himself shocked form his reverie and standing before the door. It was a red door and Hibiki noticed the paint was beginning to peel at the top right corner. He wondered whether the Tanahori family knew. He wondered why he was fixated on it, unable to look away at the slight chips and imperfections. He wondered many things and welcomed the intruding thoughts but shook them off as he gritted his teeth and took a steadying breath.

Hibiki took a step forward and produced the headband, placing it in his hands and turning them so it was not immediately in view. He stepped and knocked on the red door and waited. For a moment he felt relief that there was no answer. He wouldn’t have to say what he had come to say if no one was here to receive the news. His relief was dashed as an older version of the Isehara opened the door, the resemblance was striking even from a simple file photograph enclosed with the mission details. Hibiki felt cold ice run through his veins and moved sluggishly as though moved by the strings of a much less accomplished puppet user. He pretended he was a puppet at that moment, pulling on strings from somewhere hidden. Isehara’s mother looked at the head band and he could see she knew, deep in the eyes she knew why he was standing there and holding out a familiar headband. He also knew she would not accept it until he confirmed the awful truth she likely wished to escape.

“I am sorry for intruding Mrs Tanahori. May I come in?” Hibiki did not await a verbal response, her moving to the side in the doorway was invitation enough. The door closed behind him, sealing of his clearest escape route as he was led to a table an offered a drink in a quivering voice of forced politeness. Hibiki politely declined to sit or drink. He placed the headband on the table and bowed his head low. “I am sorry to report that Tanahori Isehara has passed away whilst on duty 4 days ago. I was informed that she was killed during combat and in defence of her team, ensuring their survival and the missions success. If you have further queries these should be brought to the mission director who may be able to tell you more. Her body is being cleaned and treated and will be present at the funeral which will take place in three days’ time. If you have any specific requests or rites, you or your family would like to be observed I can relay this information.”

Hibiki paused, realising he had been providing a river of information. He dared to look at Isehara’s mother and instantly regretted it. The rest of the conversation passed in a blur. Isehara’s mother asked about the body and asked then begged for more details. Hibiki could only stand their numb and provided the scripted answers he had been given as he tried to mental destroy the image of his owns mother, sat a similar table, tear streaked and providing a frustratingly small amount of information. He thought she would likely do the same as Tanahori, hold back the flood of emotions, waiting until she was alone, not wanting to appear ungrateful or weak. It was a common trait amongst those in ninja villages and especially in Kumogakure.

With no more questions asked Hibiki left the home quietly, closing the door softly as he left and speeding away. It occurred to him that to a passer by it might have appeared he had robbed the home. At that moment Hibiki felt like he had done something much crueller but he knew he would want his family to know if something happened to him.

He mostly stayed in his room or helped around the inn after he had passed on the scroll and delivered the news. Carefully processing the emotions and thoughts and if Hibiki was completely honest, questioning if he was on the right path. He hated those thoughts and felt weak for having them but he could not stop them intruding all the same. He was stood near the coffin on the day of the funeral and many were in attendance, extended family, friends, colleagues and even her remaining teammates. They had arrived two days later and all bore scars from hard fought battle. Hibiki remained diligent and watched in case someone rushed the coffin but no one did. Hibiki looked up at the sky and the rumbling thunder of Raijins mighty drums and the howling of Fujins sack of wind. Hibiki felt like it should rain, perhaps to hide the tears or at least make him less visible to the crowd that had gathered in front of him. He knew none of them were looking at him but he still felt out of place and uncomfortable.

It was during the funeral that he decided to remain on the shinobi path. As he watched the group assembled and looked at the village behind he knew it was the right thing to do. The risk was great but if he could make a difference and prevent even a single tragedy like this one then his efforts and perhaps even his sacrifice would make it worth the cost. Hibiki returned home more determined than ever and headed out to train. He had reaffirmed his path and would do his utmost to follow it to whatever glorious end Raijin and Fujin fated.

[Exit]
TWC: 1600

Claiming mission rewards:
- 4000 Ryo (x2 due to Beloved Presence)
- 20 AP (x2 due to beloved Presence)

Claiming jutsu and applying 25% discount
- S/T Art: Imitation White Hole - 1313 - 1313/1600
- 287 towards (Incomplete) Sealing Art: Dark River Breaking Seal - 358/1750 - 1600/1600

Approved claims