"And I have to go back and forth all the time with you, every single one of you never understand how simple some of the stuff is. You all assume you are hardcore shinobi because your face isn't being shown and you've got some techniques adapted to stealth. I mean, really? Can you not fuckin' think for a moment? Fuck! I wonder how you guys came to be genin if you cannot figure out simple shit. You over think every single move, and you overestimate every single thing. There is a difference between being a member of the Black Ops than being some overly-cautious bastard. And you wonder why you get punished this way.”

An exasperated sigh tangled up in the wind as Shihouin turned his head away from his team. He had been assigned to a new round of grunt recruits that were still learning basic training. Outside, the heavy winds pushed across a bleak grey sky, exposing them all to the elements. A shower had passed through not some odd twenty minutes ago, and yet before him the grunts were reserving to movements which allowed them to keep their heat. He was commander over them, one shinobi situated in front of a block of nine-by-nine grunts. They were forced in basic ANBU gear which snatched their identities from them by masking them in masks that were uniform.

Under the cold sun rays that penetrated through wet clouds, they continued to run sets of exercises, which on sided of muscle splitting reps that tested their ability to endure. They were forced to jog in place for about three minutes, then drop down and do 20 pushups, stand back up and do fifteen backflips and then repeat the process with discretion of exercise left up to Shihouin. Of coursed this seemed pretty normal for any type of group that had deep militaristic innards as ANBU, but they had been strenuously put to the test. The estimated time for this non-stop work out wasn’t hours. It was days, with few rests in between, in which they were forced to learn control over their own innards. If they threw up oh well, it was simple. Don’t throw up, don’t faint.

His black short hair jittered over his golden eyes as he relaxed with his hands held neatly behind his back, tucked behind the height of his tall body. Long strides carried him as he moved up and down the block sides, watching as each of the so called “ninja” attempted to become stronger. Instead of being filled with nostalgia and pushing them along with tough love, he said nothing and remained in stale silence, watching them suffer under the intense amount of pain. IN his eyes, no one would be there for him, so he had no intention of supplying them with etched memories of motivational speeches given by him. He didn’t believe in that sort of willpower arising from simple memories. All one needed was power, determination yes, but power above else.

As training progressed, rolling clouds thundered on by, sizzling rain over the entire outside arena. Most of the other grunt blocks would go inside and resume training. Shihouin simply left them there, cold, weak and frail in the freezing rain. Without order they would eventually have to wait for some other commander to stop by before they suffered from pneumonia or worse, death by pneumonia or fatigue itself. Shihouin’s abrasive, arrogant and harsh personality turned tail on is fellow ANBU, grunt or not, and simply left for the comfort of the inside of the base.

Barracks were like small apartments, all stacked neatly on each other with a few windows out looking the compound of course and the village itself. They weren’t too tall which helped them blend in the with homey-architecture of the village, but good enough were watch tower vantage points were easy reach. Shihouin opened the door to the second building closest to him, cold air from the still air conditioner shivering his body in a chill as the rain was forced off of his body. Passing the cafeteria for food, he headed straight upstairs to his room, where he could get some rest in preparation for tomorrow. Being situated so high up made it much more relaxing in room 82, a nice view of the village to fall asleep to due to the lack of entertainment television.

Twisting the cold metal door knob, he strode lazily into his room and took to his bed which had been situated across the door in the one room large apartment. It didn’t have many furnishings, a small wooden-stained table which had a single chair situated next to the kitchen. He had a sofa pressed back against the farter wall running perpendicular with his bed, and a few other bookshelves and smaller furnishings that decorated the place lightly. Sitting down on his bed, he removed his boots and black socks, letting them fall down to the ground in an unorganized fashion. He wiggled his long toes, letting the air get in between them as he relaxed and removed the heavy vest in front of him, letting his chest breathe as well.

“It’s good to relax every now and then, but you must not become rusty.” A male voice spoke, reverberating across the hard walls of the room. It had no source as if it had come from the very air itself. Shihouin’s quick next flexed hard as his head dashed over to his opposite side. His golden eyes narrowed as he looked at a figure, no taller than an average man hooded in a large black cloak which tail swept down to the floor. His arms were folded across his chest neatly, fabric folded across them. Upon his darkened face he wore a strange stale white mask, crudely cut for breathing and sight. Shihouin could not see what was beyond it, the deep shade from his oversized hood prevented it.

“It’s you again, how do- Nevermind.” Shihouin had wanted to know how he got past everything, his own sensory abilities, and the numerous numbers of talented sensor ninja and into the village itself. His mind tried to process the thoughts, clanking around in his head. Like an error message, he soon erased thinking about it and gave up and let it go. “What do you want?”

The figure moved not, sharp, steady and still in its place. Like a demonic statue, the words sunk from his mouth. “Initiation rights. You have been deemed acceptable by us. How do you respond to this?” Shihouin looked puzzled and confused, understanding lost from his mind. “What are you talking about?” he said, wanting more information on the matter.

Still as immovable as a boulder, the figure that he thought was a speck of his conscious insanity spoke. “There is not much I can tell you at this part of the stage, only that your character is proper for our line of faith. You seek power, strength and you understand the beauty in carnage. Don’t you?” he said, lingering on as if he had a snake between his lips. “Faith? I am an atheist. God doesn’t exist. What only exists is the power you have as a human and what you can do with it. There is no such thing as god.”

The cloaked mask man moved a bit closer, his large pant legs swaying back and forth as he seemed to slide towards Shihouin. “Allow me to show you the error of your ways. Do you believe in power?” Treading carefully, he was unsure about this fellow all the more now. He tried to choose his words with caution. “Of course. That’s all there is. Power.” “So do you believing in gaining power? Do you need a reason to become strong?” “A man should strive after power, and he doesn’t need a reason to become stronger.” “So what is the Hokage? What is the Captain of the ANBU? What is a genin? Are not all these levels of power? In this word where something as insignificant as your chakra can make a difference with your ninjutsu and make it stronger, don’t you think there exists a stronger energy?” The masked man pushed a black sleeved and gloved hand through his larger sleeve. He snapped his gloved fingers together and a tingling black energy came forth. Pressing his finger against the wall, he pushed as it slowly moved through it. The wooden wall faded, cracked and splintered under the energy. “No chakra. This is energy above your own. Bow your head to Jashin and you can obtain this and a multitude more…Are you convinced?”

Normally anyone within Konoha would have said no. They would have attempted to engage in combat or try to alert others to have the stranger sent away or killed. Yet his mind entertained the thought of having energy like that. What ninjutsu he could obtain what skills he could obtain; to become stronger than he was before. Was there a god? He was not so sure to doubt his belief as an atheist, but he admitted that there must be a higher power. He remembered the pain caused by the Hokage. Could he obtain a higher power than that? “I’ll…. bite.”

The mask man seemed giddy under his guise. “You have completed the second part of the initation rights. Here.” Reaching under his opposite sleeve he pulled out a small scroll. He reached his hand over to touch him, placing a finger with the energy on his head. “It’s a scroll that you can now read. It explains our history and the abilities you will acquire once you execute the final target. Be faithful, cast aside your nonbelief. You will be rewarded. Complete the killing as soon as possible.”

Shihouin opened up the scroll and read the contents inside. There was information about the history of the clan, which he would read through. More importantly, information about who his next target was. God or not, if this guy wasn’t bullshitting, Shihouin would follow.

[Topic Completed]-Archived