Chapter Two - Wasuka

As they were instructed in their graduation notifications, the graduates arrived at the Academy just as the sun rose over the mountains. The two hundred or so students waited an hour before the instructors came. They talked amongst themselves in the meantime, mostly about anticipation for the wasuka ceremony.

The head of the group was Ryu Suzukami, a man known for having researched the wasuka his entire career as a shinobi. He was not the type of man known for having long conversations; he was the type that wanted to get to the point. He never saw the point for idle conversations.

He had patience when the need arose, however.

There was no need for that today.

“Come in!” he ordered almost immediately after he left the door and entered the outside. “Follow my attendants! We’ll lead you to the room.” The graduates quickly followed the order.

Once inside, Ryu said only a single sentence: “This will be your last time in these halls until the choujin exams.” The message was clear; remember your memories. Recall both the bad and the good. If you don’t, these halls that have been a second home to you for the past ten years will be nothing. They will be just barriers of wood and stone bisecting rooms.

Eventually, the group reached the Forbidden Halls – a sector of the Academy used only by shinobis and Instructors. None of the graduates had ever been here before; any student who entered was almost instantly expelled. They were usually given a week or so to make them think they got away with it.

The shock usually made the expelled law abiding citizens for life.

Upon entering the Forbidden Halls, the graduates were thoroughly disappointed. They thought it was supposed to look it was holding something that earned the Halls the forbidden part. Their expectations were something along the line of grayed skulls hanging off of chandeliers, or at the very least torches lighting the way of dark as night halls.

The Forbidden Halls looked just like any other Hall. Some people saw fresh paint. Fresh paint does not equal creepy, foreboding event. It equals normal.

Most of the graduates did not like normal when it came to the wasuka. They wanted the wasuka ceremony to be as non-normal as things can get.

They were about to have their expectations exceeded.

The instructors guided them down a hall, where the graduates followed Ryu to a rather large door. It wasn’t large to the point where it covered half the wall; in fact, it was more or less the same size. It seemed large in the fact that it was the only door in the hallway. All the other walls were eerily blank.

It seemed significant.

None of the graduates noticed Ryu’s assistants weren’t beside him as he approached the door. In fact, they weren’t even in the hallway.

Ryu stared at the door for a few moments, breathing somewhat irregularly, as if this door held some horror beyond human recognition. Slowly, after creating an awkward silence, he turned to face the graduates.

He held up his hand, four fingers opened, slipping each into a fist as he spoke each term: “Bakhan, sankhan, baikhan, and shinkhan. These are the four stages of the wasuka. They evolve when you develop; each evolution is a telling of everything you are.” He paused, placing his hands behind him.

“Beyond this door are the pods. In those pods, you will enter, a group at a time, each of you encountering your wasuka spirit. Each spirit will give you a task, a trial if you prefer the term. You will all succeed; there has never been a shinobi who hasn’t left a pod without a wasuka.”

“What if we die?,” a curious boy asked.

Ryu smirked. “Nothing will be left of you.”

A few gulps could be heard among the group. A few overconfident chuckled and shrugged. No one had failed yet, so why be worried?

“Don’t think that because no one has failed yet any of you won’t be the first.”

They were worried.

Ryu opened the door. “Thirty of you will go in at a time. Just keep going in until I close the door. Keep some distance from the one in front of you.” His voice, as always, was without compassion. They had a good idea what would happen if they chose to cross with him.

So, they poured in. Within a few minutes, the door was slammed shut. With a growl, Ryu ordered the graduates away from the door. They all too willingly obeyed.

The pod room was a circular chamber, just as wide as it was long. The pods were forged into the walls, with most of them layered along the walls. Circular staircases gave easy access to the ones not on solid ground.

When a graduate approached one of the pods, they open like a flower opens at the first sight of spring. Most of the students entered the pods with a sense of both caution and curiosity; few have seen something so out of place before. They had a sense of danger to them, but at the same time, they were a mystery just begging to be solved.

Technically, the pods had no seats, not a single thing that would comfort anyone. They had no decorations, or wards of ninjutsu. They were absolutely empty.

But since each and every graduate was cast into a deep sleep the moment they entered the pod, they would never know what truly was inside them.

*

The realm of Orochi’s wasuka spirit was a gladiatorial arena in a middle of a vast dessert. Half naked, dirty men sat at the bleachers, cheering wildly as the thralls fought each other to the death. One had on a helmet that covered everything but his nose and eyes. He didn’t have any armor for his chest or arms. His pants were ragged and dirty. He was fighting on bare feet. His only weapon was a spear.

The other gladiator was naked except for armor that went down his left arm. In his right arm was a short sword.

The short sword knocked away the spear; the naked gladiator leaped towards the other, hoping to carve his blade into the other’s skull.

The gladiator swiped the man to the ground, giving the attacker a small cut.

Cheers filled the stadium.

“He had a chance”, came a slithery voice. Orochi turned to the thing next to him; it was a reptile, but it was the size of the man. It was clothed in metal armor, and multiple weapons, including a spear, sword and an axe, was strapped to his back. Its scaled hands were folded beneath its chin. The reptilian tongue licked at the hard lips; the eyes were totally focused on the battle.

“If he had moved a little faster, that gladiator’s brains would have have been carved in two. But there’s a reason he has armor; he’s fought before. He knows the way of the warrior; at least to an extent.

What do you think Orochi?” The reptilian was focused on Orochi now.

Orochi remained silent. He really wasn’t paying attention. He had been in the realm for only a few moments when the attack occurred. He was still trying to adjust to his surroundings.

He didn’t know how to answer the reptile.

“You have to be aware of everything in an instant.”

At first, Orochi didn’t see the relevance to the odd conversation. But then the reptile continued: “In a forest, enemies can spring from the trees. A hungry bear can leap and swipe at you with its claws. A trap can be strung, sending a thousand kunais into your body.

Imagine a frozen wilderness; a place of frozen rock. The ground can be fragile, and shatter beneath you. A sea serpent could rise up from that same ground and devour you whole. A shinobi might be hidden within the frost, and already be planning for an attack. As a shinobi, you must be ready at all times. You have no other option.”

Then the reptile rose up. He battle ceased at once; no one cheered or hollered. The coliseum was deathly quiet. They all stared at the lizard and Orochi.

The scaled one walked down the steps, casually, but in a proud manner. Orochi followed. He was led to the hard dueling floor. The two gladiators left, heading back for the pits.

The lizard drew one of its many weapons, a short sword. “Orochi, in battle, as you stare into the eyes of your enemy, you can see their emotions. The way they move screams what motivates them. Their breathing, irregular or not, whispers their desires. Now Orochi, tell me your emotions, your motivations, and your desires!”

And the lizard charged at the unexpected Hebi, its tail swinging randomly. Its shoulder was prepared to charge right into Orochi. Orochi, caught off guard, had just loosened a kunai from his pockets when the felt the weight of the lizard send him rolling to the other side of the arena.

Orochi rolled halfway across the arena before he managed to plunge his kunai into the ground, reducing his roll to sliding. He soon stopped, and got to his feet, his cut fingers holding a dirty kunai.

He was barely a minute into the fight, and already Orochi was having trouble moving his fingers. His tongue felt his gums; they were bleeding a little. It was nothing to have a heart attack over.

The reptile charged again, and Orochi was a bit more prepared. With all of its might, the wasuka spirit slashed at Orochi with its sword. Expectedly, the pale graduate ducked beneath it. A few hairs were clipped off.

The lizard expected the boy’s maneuver, and instinctively, it sent its knee cap upward, slamming into Orochi’s chin. The boy fell to the ground, dizzy, blood dripping from his broken nose.

The scaled tail slashed Orochi across the back. He groaned in pain. A hard fist slammed into the cheek, the dark blue covering the white. Orochi’s body fell hard onto the ground.

The lizard straightened its back. It looked more intimidating now. The lizard did not underestimate Orochi, nor would it anyone else. It knew everyone held a secret power within.

It allowed Orochi to get back up. The Hebi wiped blood from his torn lip. It was numb. He still managed to widen it into a smile. He licked the bruised lips overconfidently.

He wasn’t going to lose just yet. In fact, he didn’t plan on losing at all. He got on his knees, placed his arms on them, and he thought. He brainstormed many tactical strategies for a very long time.

Then he was done.

He dashed in the opposite direction, towards the far end of the arena. The lizard followed in hot pursuit. Orochi may of have had the lead, but the wasuka spirit was more physically fit than the average human, even one who could stretch his body parts beyond normal comprehension.

Orochi knew this, however; he knew that the wasuka spirit would catch up to him within moments. That’s why when he was just a few feet away from the lizard, he turned to face it. His arms stretched outward; the left arm curled itself around the left shoulder and wrist, whiles the right, with kunai in hand, went straight for the throat.

It seemed the pieces had fallen into place; Orochi was certain that he had won. But he was not expecting the lizard to grab his arm, and reel Orochi in.

Orochi wasn’t out of ideas, however. The moment the lizard grabbed his arm, Orochi had released his left hand’s grip and was sending the fist flying towards its scaled target. It hit right in the jaw bone, sending the lizard sprawling to the ground.

When the arms returned to their normal length, Orochi drew a kunai a leaped for the lizard. It was already up by then, by Orochi had calculated this, and he re-arranged his footing so that it landed right on the shoulders. The impact and Orochi’s weight sent the lizard back on the ground, with Orochi on top of him.

And a kunai pointed at its throat.

“I am aware”, Orochi said simply.

“So am I”, the lizard reminded. “Off of me”. It wasn’t an order as much as it was a request, but it was the first word that comes to mind. Orochi complied, putting his kunais back in his pockets. “I am aware that you fought on dangerous ground. You can barely see out of one of your eyes; your hands were barely able to hold the kunai. Your whole body is shaking from a mixture of loss of blood and adrenaline. One wrong move and the battle would of have been mine.”

The forked tongue licked the scaly lips. “And somehow, you won.” It rumbled out a low chuckle. “I am Zaibi.” The declaration had no relevance to the conversation, but Orochi didn’t care. “Catch.” Zaibi threw something at Orochi. He easily caught the gift.

It was his wasuka. In truth, the wasuka was actually two short swords. One of them was a silvery white, whereas its handle was black. The other was the exact opposite.

“Our name is Kusanagi”, the lizard told him. “You’ll be stronger for knowing our two names. Now leave.”

Instantly, Orochi found himself outside the pod he had entered minutes before. He was somewhat disappointed; there were no flashing lights to signal his departure, no floating runes. It was just…sudden.

With a shrug, Orochi stared at his wasuka, the Kusanagi blades. Afterwards, he moved on to the hallway.

A few other pods were empty as well.

*

When it came to waiting for anything Kaname was, as expected, bored out of her mind. She hated to wait for anything, wherever it would be a box of sweets or something as important as her wasuka! She was not a patient child, and that was being kind.

Two hours have passed since she arrived, and it seemed almost every other minute the old geezer opened the doors for some other kid with their wasuka. The wasuka was in a hundred different forms; some of them were small, like a necklace. Others were big, like a spear or sword.

Kaname could made one conclusion from the whole mess: hers would be something marvelous. She was, after all, the foster daughter of Tae Uzuki! Someone who was in constant contact with such a great shinobi would surely get something mysterious and powerful.

By the time her name was called, she had long lost the track of time. In fact, she was just about to fall asleep and snorted quite loudly. This forced a few giggles from some of the surrounding students. Embarrassed, Kaname just rushed in the pod room.

When the door closed behind her, Kaname was initially caught surprised by the simplicity of the pods. She was expecting something a little bit more dramatic than giant white seeds, as she put it. Without giving her disappointment another thought, she rushed into the nearest pod.

Kaname didn’t know where she was, but she knew that she didn’t like it. The realm where her wasuka spirit called home was basically a giant pool of water with a large floating platform in the middle.

It was cold. She didn’t like to be cold.

She sighed. “Where are you?” she asked the pool of water. “Wait, I must be stupid. There is no way I am talking to water.” She sighed again, and sat down. But after her butt met the freezing cold water, she sprung right back up.

Kaname looked around the room, hoping to find some hint of her wasuka spirit. The water was reflected on the clean wall, creating a sense of tranquility. But Kaname was anywhere but at peace: the sound of the waves constantly coming into her ears made her more and more nervous. Every time her platform moved slightly, her heart pumped all the faster.

Within a few minutes, Kaname was petrified. The absence of anyone but her in the room made her feel that she was going to be alone forever. She didn’t want that feeling.

Water began to move onto the platform.

Kaname’s hands were shaking now, a mix between the cold and her rising fear. Her tongue was getting sore. She bit on her shivering lips.

Kaname breathed in again. “Well, it looks like whatever it is is running late. Typical. Everyone but me is late nowadays.” The comment helped her self esteem a little. “So boring, watching water. How can people actually do this stuff?”

She put her hands behind her back and walked in circles around the platform, clicking her tongue or twiddling her fingers when she felt like it. Her heart began to beat slower and slower. She became relaxed.

That was when Bukkaku revealed himself. He rose onto the platform, moving like a snake across its slick surface. He rose, revealing his full figure that towered over Kaname. Hearing him, she turned.

She saw a towering pillar of water, with a small ball like stone floating beneath it.

“Relaxed yet?” The voice was disfigured, like it was somebody trapped underwater trying to speak. The water rippled around the stone.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“That should be obvious. Who else would be here besides you and I? I’m the wasuka spirit, you idiot.” By now, the pillar had dissolved into a puddle of water. The water formed into some sort of snake like shape, and its ‘face’ was right in front of Kaname. “I am Bukkaku.”

“Pleasure’s all mine”, she smirked.

“I was beginning to wonder to if you were going to jump off the platform. I was disappointed to see you choose to survive.”

“Why?” She arched her eyebrows. “Was that the actual test?”

“No. I just wanted to see if you would or not.”

Kaname sighed. “So, what exactly was the point of this?”

“It’s to see just how much of that brain of yours is actually used, you piece of trash. You think you’re so high and mighty, but look what we have her: a girl who can’t control her temper at a talking puddle.”

“Shut up!”

“Give me a reason why I should. You think of everyone as pigs. You toy with boy’s feelings; you make them feel like dirt. You mock the older generation’s virtues just for the sake of mocking them. The only way you can feel better is if you make others feel like dogs. You’re nothing but trash.”

“I said shut up!” She leaped at Bukkaku, her fist slamming into him. Her attack was stopped in mid motion.

“You don’t think much do you?” Bukkaku rose, lifting Kaname along with him. “You act without thinking, without considering the consequences. You go through life, doing as you please just for the sake of doing them.”

The wasuka spirit spun, throwing Kaname into the pool.

“You idiot!” She coughed up water “What the hell did you do that for?”

Bukkaku wrapped himself around Kaname again, and threw her back onto the platform. She tried to rise up, coughing up cold water, but she felt too weak. She collapsed back onto the platform, her cheek resting in a puddle of water, her wet hair spread across her face.

“I’ll tell you why I did it. Because you need to learn. You need to learn what it means to be human. And that is why I will let you leave, to become a shinobi, even when you don’t deserve anything of this kindness. Now get the hell out of here.”

And in the next moment, she was. She was back in the pod room, as dry as she had entered, a lantern strapped to her wrist.

“Chochin”, she whispered the wasuka’s name before she trudged towards the gates.

*

When Shinji entered his pod an hour later, he was not expecting this to be his wasuka realm. He found himself in brothel that was obviously designed for lords: elegant smoke weed filled the air; there were several small pools where people could engage in the act. Others were performing it in broad daylight, on large sofas. The room itself was spherical in shape, and Shinji could not see a door in or out.

As he glanced, he saw a lone figure resting on a large wooden chair, surrounded by other naked prostitutes. His skin was as black as charcoal, but on the left side of his body had strands of a golden color. His eyes were a dark red, his lips a dark blue.

“So, you decided to make it.” He rose, pushing a woman roughly off of him. “I was beginning to wonder when you would decide to show up.”

Shinji remained silent: he just twirled his orange hair around his finger.

“Stop that!” He pushed at Shinji forcefully. Shinji obeyed.

“So, that’s you, huh? Doing what everybody says without complaint, eh?” The wasuka spirit licked his lips. “What business do you have speaking to me when you don’t have a backbone.”

“To be a shinobi.”

“What right do you have to be a shinobi?”

“I-I worked hard.”

“Right. Of course you did. You worked so very hard, didn’t you, my little Shinji.”

Shinji felt he was going to throw up. The way the wasuka talked to him, he felt like trash. He felt like nothing.

“I ask again, what business do you have here? Or are you just a waste.”

Shinji just stared at the wasuka.

“So, I, Kagu-Zuchi, am a wasuka spirit to a weakling.” He turned his back to Shinji, and began to walk towards the w****s.

Shinji muttered something. Instantly, Kagu-Zuchi was upon him, an iron grip wrapped around the pale throat.

“You said something.” Kagu-Zuchi’s lips curled. “You had the spunk to say something, even when you knew an extent of my power.”

Shinji’s only response was a gasp for air.

“Come back when you’re strong in spirit. If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

He dropped Shinji to the floor. “I’ll lend you Shinkasai to help you.”

When Shinji finally fell to the floor, he was back in the pod room, holding a massive sword in hand. It was nearly as tall as he was, and one sided. The handle was long, red, and thin. There was no hilt. It was more like a cleaver than an actual blade. Shinji could barely lift it.

“I can’t even life my own wasuka.”

He dragged both his wasuka and his spirit towards the door.

*

The sounds of the crowd had devolved drastically. The voices now were nothing but a mere whisper, thanks to nearly everyone having received their wasuka. Mostly everyone had left, since Ryu had given them permission to do so once their business was done.

Izumi had remained still the whole time. His body was aching from the ordeal, but he didn’t really care. He had taught himself to ignore pain: it made him a better warrior. While most would scream when a kunai would slam into their hands, Izumi would move on, to strike the enemy down.

Eventually, Izumi’s name was called, and casually he walked into the pod room. He picked a random pod, and found himself in the realm of his wasuka.

Anyone would have been surprised what Izumi’s wasuka spirit called home, but he was speechless. He was expecting something dark and depressing, something along the lines of a dark and foggy cavern. Instead, he found himself in a beautiful park, full of sakura trees.

He remembered this place. It was one of the parks in the Country of the Storms that he would go to frequently as a child.

A soothing melody filled the air. Slowly, Izumi turned.

He saw his mother, Reido. She hadn’t changed at all from his earliest memories of her, with her long, dark silky hair, and her encouraging features. She was exactly as he remembered her.

“Mama?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

The woman closed her eyes sensitively as she picked her gaze up from the flowered ground towards Izumi. “Hello, Izumi.” The voice was full of love.

“That you? Really you?”

“I don’t know who else it would be.” From most voices, the statement would be sarcastic. But from Reido’s, it was anything but.

“I guess not.” A low chuckle erupted from Izumi.

Reido patted softly the adjacent seat on the bench, motioning Izumi to sit. He quickly complied. “So, how have you been?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from Izumi’s own mouth.

“Lost”, he answered honestly.

“Oh Izumi”, she sighed, ruffling her delicate fingers through his hair.

“No one cared for me…Everyone hated me. They despised me; they saw me as a monster, a weapon. And they were right.”

“You are no monster, Izumi.”

“Don’t lie to me. I was made to kill. So, what else can I do? That’s my destiny. To spill blood.”

“That’s your father speaking.”

“It’s me speaking.”

“Don’t fool yourself Izumi. You’ve been told these lies your entire life; of course you’d claim to believe in them. But you know the truth, my little Izi.”

With this, Izumi sprung up, his eyes shaking with terror. His hands, shaking as if they were freezing, covered his ears. “Who are you? Who are you? Who the hell are you!”

“You know who I am Izumi.”

“No. I don’t know who you are. You say you’re my mother, my mama? You’re nothing, a doppelganger. You’re just a wasuka spirit. You’re not my mother. You’re nothing like her! Nothing!”

The woman remained silent.

“Be gone, you, you thing. You don’t even have a name!”

“Then leave.”

In the next moment, he was in front of his pod, still shivering with unspeakable fear.

On his right hand was a ring with a skull engraved in it. Izumi knew its name all too well: Ajuua.