Justice through Order

Tousen's Jounin Training...

It was time. There was far too much to be lost, and he had searched long and hard to obtain what he had so far. His life was more then he had ever imagined it to be but if he was to have the strength necessary to save himself and others then he would have to be even stronger then he already was. He had discovered an old artifact of his clan that was many generations old. It was some sort of tile or plate, shaped sort of fun as it an inverted kite. He didn't know what to think of it and has spent alot of his own time trying to figure out how it worked to now avail. It was obviously old and brittle and thus he turned to the last known resource in order to figure out what it was. This resource he had yet to turn to basically because he was something of a rival of his. If he had an edge with this instrument then he would most likely use it to make sure that the difference between himself and the other person he had in mind would be one hundred percent clear. No longer would he be competing with this person, but it was more then just this person. Perhaps this was the power he needed to improve himself as well, and to improve Sunagakure. It needed to be strong. The Administration building was still in shambles; destroyed by whatever force had attacked while he wasn't there. He still had no clue as to what it was that attacked the village. There was rumors of an individual disguised as an ANBU that used sand as a weapon and thus could destroy the the very foundation of Sunagakure. It was smart, or perhaps unlucky. It would be somewhat ironic as well. If the very artifact that he had discovered during his travels and missions, unable to help in the defense of Sunagakure was also the very device that would help him bring stability to it in the first place. He may not have had the power at one time to help. What authority did his words have if not the power to back them up. All the understanding and knowledge in the world would be for not if he wasn't himself strong. Now, refering to that individual that was being talked about earlier. This was infact Tousen's brother, Zommari. He was the only other person of his clan that he knew of. The only difference between himself and his brother was... well there were many. First of all his brother was about eleven years older then himself. He was also much better with a blade and much more powerful. Like himself, is brother used genjutsu, however being a member of the same clan and also blind made most of Zommari's genjutsu impossible to use. In this case, they seemed to offset each other. His brother was once a shinobi but put aside his active duty due injury. He had broken his collar bone as a result of a particularly hard battle with who was at the time considered the most powerful swordsmen in Wind Country. It unfortunately did not heal correctly due to the serious nature of the damage done. Should they had fixed it completely or at least attempted to they would have found themselves running the risk of damaging a lung or running into other forms of internal damage. A collar bone out of wack was survivable, but once a lung or worse came into question, there was perhaps much more to be costly. For example, the the life of his brother was on the line. In this instance, his brother took this defeat very bitterly. He threw in the towel and vow never again to fight. There were always many discouraging moments, but with his collar bone slightly sticking out of his chest, he had a very serious weakness that could be taken advantage of. As a shinobi, he would be a single blow away from death and with so many people to worry about other than himself, he didn't want to take that chance. He could also very possibly have done this as a result of his own selfishness or cowardice of will to live but in any case, it was his decision to make and no one would be heartless enough to say otherwise. Not only that, but everyone was happy when he made the decision, as they didn't want one of their own to be put at risk like that. Tousen himself was also content with the decision and ever sense he had not only trained with his brother but in many ways caught up with him. In any case, there wasn't much more he could do at this point then have his brother take a look at what he had found. He went to his brother for advice two nights after returning home and asked him two things. He first asked him what had happen. He explained to him just as much as he knew, after all he was no longer an active shinobi and thus wouldn't know everything that a normal shinobi would be knowledgeable about. He explained to him for quite some time and he then continue to until he was done with everything that he knew. Tousen had listened and his words only clarified what he already knew, thus making sure that what he knew was true or at least close to being true. What next? He presented the artifact to his brother. His brother pondered over it for awhile before asking what it was. Tousen explained that he found it and went to him to ask what it was. His brother then told him that it would take some time and some experimentation but that he would infact find out exactly what it was for his brother and to return later that day. Tousen agreed and left his brothers house. From there he searched about on his own to get answers about what had happened. He talked to many different civilians and got many different points of view about what exactly went down. To get a better idea of what had happen, he decided to check out the place in which most of the fighting happened. This was the Administration building and around it. All that was left of what was suppose to be the most powerful area in the entire hidden village was frames, structures and crumbled sand. Many shinobi were still helping clear the rubble and form overheard conversations he found that many bodies that had been lost in the wreckage was still being found and that the death toll was rising. It was unfortunate to him that something like that would have to happen here, but in any case it was most likely the result of a force equal in power to that of nature itself. There was little to no way that one person could have stopped this. This wasn't even targeting anyone, no shinobi were hurt after all, but in the same instance an entire building, district, and everything and everyone involved was victim to the attack. An act of terrorism that would grant the man responsible status of missing-nin that was at least 'S' ranked in his book, but some people didn't necessarily agree. What had become of Sunagakure. He had also gotten the report earlier that he would have to stand guard and be forewarned about body coming or leaving. Coming because anyone outside that had heard about the misfortune of the village might attempt to use this as a moment of opportunity in which to attack themselves. There were bound to be plenty of individuals that would jump at the chance to do such a thing and this. After all, it was a hidden village and for it to fall would be a great power shift in the Nations in general. Sunagakure would have to stand as a beacon of power, even if it was considered to be the weakest of military, economic and population strength of all five of the nations that were considered the 'great nations', that only meant that he would have to work harder and be more powerful in order to make it as a powerful shinobi himself. He was confident in his abilities, but was always finding individuals with power that was far greater then his own. He wanted his sort of power in order to gain authority. If he had authority then his words would carry weight. The weight of ones words are words powerful enough to save people. Those are words able to change the world and pass judgement. Not only would they have to be on alert for people invading or attacking, but he would also have to look out for those who were attempting to leave. If any spies existed, which was in many cases a possibility, then they may be trying to use this chaos as a cover in which to escape to their home lands. This was also a time for those who were discouraged, upset, disappointed, frustrated, or just dark in nature to leave to pursuit their own more selfish dreams. These rogues to be waited for a chance to deflect and become missing-nin thinking that it was their best way in which to accomplish their own goals. In truth, every shinobi wanted to be powerful, but there were two sorts of people in this world. There were the agents of order and the agents of chaos. Some people acted out as agents of chaos, shaking the world toward change and nothing but change. Some people were agents of order and shaped and stabilized the world. The two needed each other, as if the world was one hundred precent one way or another there would be no world. Chaos without order would lead to constant change and as a result, the world and its civilizations would crumble and fall. The foundation would be broken and man kind and everything it was built upon would be destroyed as a result. Order worked in the opposite direction. If only order existed then one the world would be stabilized to the point that nothing moved, that nothing could move and that nothing more could come to exist. It would be perfection that binded and constricted, and the world would come to a halt. In either scenario nothing would any longer move. When everything is destroyed, nothing has the ability to move, when everything is stable, everything cannot move. It was this balance that was important to the survival of the human race, but it was a very delicate balance that shifted toward those of Order. Order was the foundation. Order was control. Order was justice. Those that were agents of order could control and destroy and build as need be. A world of order was a world of peace; where chaos itself existed, but as a tool of order to be created and released so that one could rebuild. This was something that his brother taught him, and would very soon re-enforce. While he was here, he decided to use it as an opportunity in which to learn. Learning was a powerful tool of order. The term "the pen is mightier then the sword" comes to mind when thinking about exactly what it meant. Tousen used genjutsu, and his knowledge and experience could thus be used as a tool. The mental battle was the battle that would determine who was ultimately the stronger shinobi, even if one shinobi had stronger fists, weapons or attacks, a shinobi with the ability to manipulate others would always triumph in the end. But how do you manipulate another person? One would think that brute force would be the tool used to manipulate another individual. In all truth, force was only as powerful as the cowardice of the target. If the person was god fearing and greedy and selfish and held their value in what was physical, then they would be bound and binded to the rules of fear where they would forever be taunted by those above them. Authority was also considered as a way to manipulate people. What is authority? Kings, Queens, Dictators, Monarchs, Partiarcs, Leaders, Chiefs, Elders, Kage, etc., All those that were considered to be those of responsibility over others for some reason have authority; the ability to many their will reality came through authority. Not any normal kind of authority, but unquestioned authority. Even weak and physically troubled could have authority if by some means they obtained it. Authority was something that was more then often not earned, but given. It was the only source of power in the world that people could have for no real reason besides some superstitious belief or perhaps linage of family. To Tousen, this was a bit unfair. He believe that it was something that needed to be worked for, but that it was a necessary niche in the world and that someone ha to fill it. If people needed others to govern them, then they would certainly find someone or something in order to do it; giving away authority, handing them power, asking to be manipulated because they were too weak to have the responsibility themselves. It was convenient Tousen thought. When those with authority messed up, they could easily blame them and have nothing more but complaints. It made them weak. Those who were under those with authority for no reason were be nature negative and thus chaotic. Tousen harbored some sort of envy toward the, but still this didn't answer the original question at hand. The original question was how to manipulate an individual, or any number of individuals without power, or rather to gain power. The most universal way in which to manipulate the hearts and minds of others by taking advantage of their ignorance. Ignorance was a plague, to everyone and everything that existed. However, through knowledge, one could use the natural ignorance of an opponent against them. What the opponent didn't know could hurt them; going against the original idea of "what you dont know can't hurt you". It was naive to think that ignorance was indeed bliss, as a foundation built on ignorance was easily broken. A foundation like that, when broken, would leave the target lost, with no clue as to what to build on next. You could then easily built your own foundation over that broken foundation of ignorance; make the people around you believe full heartedly whatever you wanted them to believe; make their beliefs your own. The art of genjutsu was a powerful art to wield, and was most effective on the ignorant. After all, it is all just illusions. If the opponent is aware that it is an illusion, its effects won't work on them, but if they have no reason to believe otherwise then they will be subject to any sort of manipulation the user so chooses. This is an advantage in itself. The most powerful illusions, however, are those cast without chakra and without genjutsu. When one is able to manipulate the ignorance of another on a permanent level, they can be a deciding factor in carving the fate of that individual. After all, if you dont know something and someone tells you something that may or may not be true, you dont necessarily have to believe them, but you have no reason not to believe them. For many people, the idea of blind faith leads the not to question the world around them. Everything heard and learned can be fact based on ones knowledge. While there is only one reality, there are countless illusions. Anyway, now that we have gotten plenty side tracked, back to the original plot. Tousen was sneaky. He used his many abilities to search the rubble of the Administration building without even moving. He then located and salvaged as many documents as possible; including a roster of sorts of every shinobi in all of Sunagakure. He made off with this information; well aware that it could possibly incriminate him in the future. He returned home shortly after to look over what he had found. Because he was blind, he had to use his sense of touch, like brail, to read. However, the lack of little dots in certain patterns was not a problem. His sense of touch could be made so sensitive that he could simply touch the pages and distinguish ink form paper. He could thus read letters by sliding his finger over them. He did just this, and discovered he also had found an updated bingo book that was made to include all missing-nin for shinobi. In this way, he could accurately depict his opponents. As long as they were affiliated with sunagakure. It was something of an advantage if for whatever reason he did infact have to go up against one of his own shinobi. Once again, knowledge was an advantage. Just as he could manipulate his opponents his own lack of understanding would possibly drive him into a situation that was otherwise unfavorable. If he knew what to look out for then he would have no problems distinguishing threats and bluffs. His main question was why this information wasn't made public. After all, anyone and everyone could benefit from it. The he thought about it for a second. If this information was complied and then given to a spy or worse, invaders, they would very easily know what to expect out of the majority of the village. Knowledge was indeed a powerful and frightening weapon. Speaking of which, he would have to learn much more in order to gain more power. To relax himself, Tousen sat down and wrote a short story. This is what was in the short story itself that he titled. "The Beat".
It was a saturday night, and one that would no doubt bleed over into sunday morning. One of the Faternity's had been on probation for some time for some form of campus misconduct and was just coming out today. Need less to say, they were taking advantage of this situation to throw a party they called 'Jail Break'. It was suppose to be a jailed theme so some people bothered to dress in black and white stripes, but most didn't care. A party was a party. Every weekend it seemed as though the different frat houses would take turn throwing a big party and everyone who was anyone would be there. Apart of that group was myself and my circle of friends. We had joking called each ourselves 'team blackhawk', and carried around half dollar coins as signs as our membership to our freshmen only gang of friends. It was early, and by early I mean about ten thirty and of course we were each getting ready for what the night had in store for us. It wasn't until I came to college that I realized how limited my clothing selection was. Being an athlete meant that about 50% of my wardrobe was track or soccer related and was hardly impressive for a party. I had two shirts that were up to par and just switched them back and forth; after all, it was dark, no one would notice. I'd pack the other one in a little athletic back pack just in case, along with a few other hand held items that I thought would be handy. I always bragged about how everything I would ever need would be in that little back pack and it hasn't failed me yet. My room mate, on the other hand, had entire suitcases of clothes that had yet to be opened. I got the feelings that he either came from a wealthy home or was spoiled, as everything he had was somehow cooler, newer or more sleek then what I had. He had no problem through together something that would appear party ready while I improvised. All the while we joked and got ourselves hyped up. It was almost like a sporting event. "Dude, this is gonna be big." We would exchange with each other, as we blasted music in the backround, already getting the beat of the dance floor in our minds. Team Blackhawk always met at one place before parties; one of our friends were pledging for another frat house and had already taken the liberty of moving into one of the rooms. We all slid into his room, leaning and sitting upon whatever was sturdy enough to do so, exchanging high fives and 'mainly' hugs. This was our 'pregaming' the house was alive, and this particular frat house was known for its abundance of drinks. Alcohol was never too far away, and of course us freshmen had to take advantage of this, as none of us were old enough to buy our own drinks. I was only a spectator in this little ritual, however. I didn't drink, so I would always bring sixty cents along with me and grab a canned rootbeer from the vending machine down stairs; using it to make jokes like "this is my drink of choice". It was always good for a few laughs. I was particularly proud of my group of friends; as none of us were remotely alike. My roommate, Ben, was the tallest of us at 6'4'' and hale from Minnesota. He was a mild mannered guy, who was probably the most stress free of all of us. I attribute this quality to his complete lack of emotional attachment to any situation. Never before had I met someone that cared so little, and it was almost annoying. He was atheist, but not the kind of religious bashing atheist one would imagine. He was a deep thinking, and it was sometimes hard to imagine that he was younger then me by a few months even though he obviously had more 'real world' experience; always telling stories about his jobs, his crazy skiing trips, or how many girls he had slept with, though me a nick often joked about how many of his stories were true. He was also, apparently, very attractive. Now, I'm not a good judge when it comes to how men look, but the nick name "Hot Ben" which was given to him by a hand full of sorority girls more then sums up their feeling on my room mate. It was easy to be jealous of how easy things came for him. (I would probably have more positive things to say about him if I didn't walk in one sunday evening to find my ex-girlfriend of a week on top of him shirtless in his bed, but thats a different story all together.) Next, and in no particular order, was Bernardo. He came from Bolivia and thus was the only member of team Blackhawk to come from outside of the North America. He was also the oldest of us; a 20 year old freshmen and from the stories he told me it gave me the idea that he was trying to get his life back on track. He was about as tall as myself, if not alittle shorter and had a permanent 5 o'clock shadow sort of beard. A very loyal friend in my opinion and very comical. He had the ability to speak with the most absolute sincerity while bending his face in to all sorts of outrageous expression that you couldn't help but smile at. He was also the only one of us with a fake I.D. which had it's own uses. He was also somewhat oblivious as in many cases, he would be flirting with the same girl that another guy was; which for testosterone filled guys can easily lead to tension. Bernardo didn't think twice about that, as it was just his nature. But even still, I think I would much rather chill with him then anyone else, as he always had positive attitude, even if he was bummed about something. Nick was the next member, and he was a more stereotypical italian guy from D.C. He was a to-be psychology major like myself and thus we would have conversations from time to time filled with terminology that only we would understand and scoff in out little shrinkish laughs at jokes only psychology majors would understand; like our own little language. From what I understand, he had a lot of problems growing up; most of which stemming from weight problems. He looks just fine now, which leads me to believe that he has since recovered. It was these same experiences, however, that shaped his "I don't give a f-" attitude that he swore by. He was also hard to get to know unless you had a sense of humor, as he was very straight forward and honest; painfully so if you didn't know how to handle it. But it's this honesty that is the foundation of my respect for him. He wasn't much of a 'partier' in the sense that he go and mingle and socialize, as he would much rather steal away and enjoy a good blunt or some hard liquor. Logan was the next member of our little gang, and though he was born in Canada, we went to highschool together. Him and Nick were room mates. Logan had a very interesting temperament in that he had an incredibly innocent attitude; almost like a little kid in a college students body. He was our designated World of Warcraft player, and did his part in filling the Canadian stereotype, right down to the 'Ehh?' at the end of his sentences. Logan was dependable, in that he didn't suffer from the normal ego of the male mind. It didn't matter what situation we were in, Logan was always Logan, and anytime I was around him I was always inspired to just by myself. Finally was Dawit, who was the owner of the room we made our HQ on frat row. He was from the Bronx, New York and had apparently lived eight years of his life in Jamaica. He was known for his dread locks that extended half way down his back. He was skinny, but you would never tell as the hoodies and baggy clothes he wore more then shrouded his small frame. He probably had the biggest change of us all to make; as coming from a ghetto to a small reasonably sheltered college two thousand miles away isn't always easy. He, like Ben, carried the emotionless vibe, though this was more of a facade for him. He was ambitious about everything, from his goals to walk on to the College basketball team to girls, he had a 'go big or do home' attitude that I had no doubt was a result of him growing up where he did. Though I'd think twice before loaning him something, he is surprisingly the first person I'd come to if I needed to get something off of my chest. The idea was that the party didn't really start until eleven thirty-ish, so we made a point to not show up before then. They took turns taking shots of whatever flavored rum they could get their hands on, Dawit being the only one to try and peer pressure me into drinking, in which I would respond "If you eat meat, I'll drink." He was Rastafarian, which is apparently a religion that doesn't condone eating meat. I would always please him by saying "I'll take ONE shot next week, and we would plan on it, but never get around to it, and so next week turned into the week after that and so on, as I had originally planned it. While they pounded down what they could get their hands on I made my rounds about the frat house, leaning in one room or another and waving and exchanging smiles and greetings with familiar faces. We would eventually come to a consensus that it was time to go, supported strongly by myself and we would head out as a group.We were only one house over from the party. We could already here the bass of the music, pounding through the walls of what would be the dance floor. "You can tell no ones in their by the way it echos." Ben said, as we were already scoping out the party before we had gone in. This how was the biggest of the frat houses; a mansion in it's own right. There was a small line outside, with a table; two of the freshmen frat boys put on guard duety; checking Student IDs and strapping little bracelets on everyone that either said 'Under 21' or 'Over 21'. As I flashed my card I almost proudly announced, "Im under 21." But I had played football with one of the frat boys and he flagged me on, snapping a 'Over 21' to my wrist with a smile as if he was doing me a favor. If only he knew that I didn't drink. Little did we know, Nick used this opportunity to sneak away from us, but at this point it didn't matter. For us, the party had started. There was a huge lobby with a line of couches, all occupied with students, some I recognized, some I didn't. We all looked toward the dance floor, which was separated by another open door but decided to head upstairs instead, as it was too early for people to dance. At this point, body traffic was heavy. Moving from one point to another was an art in itself as you either had to grind shoulders with people to push your way through or weave in and out of the side conversations. The upstairs looked like a hotel; a long hall with numbered door on both sides; each a room of a frat boy and each with its own little mini party with its own music and its own drinks. This was pregaming for them. I couldn't help think to myself that people drink more beer then they do water and it wasn't too long until I had, once again, completed my rounds, high-fiving and hugging people, some of which I had just met and wouldn't remember in five minutes; after all they wouldn't remember me. Some people I was better friends with would offer me a drink and I would flag my unopened rootbeer, " Here's my drink of choice."It worked out well though. Being on a full ride for track and field I had a pretty legit excuse not to drink. I would also explain, "Well I'm already crazy enough as it is, I'd hate to see what I'd be like drunk!" But the truth was that I found not drinking to make me somewhat superior to all those who depended on it to function. I felt in control. I had tasted liquor and beer in tiny sips and found that my rootbeer tasted much better. If it didn't taste good, then why drink it? I always convinced myself that I had better ways of having fun then losing myself. But I always questioned the validity of being myself. If no one else is real, there was no real advantage to being me. So I went back down stairs; the hall conveniently had a stair case at either side which kept the traffic moving. Dawit was with me and of course, being two black individuals in a predominantly white school we were each others wing men when it came to parties. The time came when we stepped onto the dance floor which was far better populated then last time.This was my element, as both me and Dawit were confident in our ability to dance. We would make a show of it, stepping off to a part of the room that was close to the action but enough to move freely and go back and forth with out little show offish displays of dancing skill. There was a beat we all looked for in each song. One, Two and, Three, One Two and Three. It was like the foundation for our movement and we always attracted attention to ourselves. We would laugh and high five and chant and howl and when songs that had built in dances to them came on we would demonstrate our own little version of the dance; again, showing off with a confidence that only came with ignorance or experience. This was our pregaming. Eventually, Dawit's interests would change as he discovered that there were in fact females dancing as well. As if some grand epiphany he ventured from on place to another posting up behind whatever target he could find and dancing with them. Me, without a partner in crime would search out Ben, or Bernardo or even Logan and chill with them as I watched; taking in the scene. I acted like a judge, moving around and looking at different couples, seeing if they were in time with the beat. Patting on my thigh with a palm, laughing to myself as some people were too fast or too slow or even in their own little world, "I can do way better then that." I'd say to myself. It was almost as if an ego boost. I wasn't like Dawit, who would gladly dance with anything as long as it had hips to grab on to and a voice lighter then his own. I had standards and as I judged those who danced, I was also looking for girls that were up to par; that met my physical standard. It was then that I saw a girl that I had taken previous interest in, and she was headed upstairs. Of course, I waited casually, steadied myself and left my element to pursuit her. By this time the upstairs had somehow degraded. Everyone that had any intension of dancing was already downstairs and all that was left upstairs were the individuals that were only interested in the free booze. By now they had already lost a good chunk of themselves to their intoxication and thus were much less predictable. Any interaction was either comical or annoying and to prevent the later I was careful to avoid contact with people all together, with one exception. And even then, I half walked by her, pretending as if I had almost missed her and perhaps caught her out of my peripheral vision, I turned with surprise, "Hey! How are you! How long have you been here?" I'd say. Carrying on with just enough small talk to segue into an invitation. She was with two of her friends, which automatically made things harder, but in most situations like this, the higher the risk, the higher the reward."Hey, you should come dance with me!" I'd say. But I knew her answer before she even opened her mouth. A shallow dip in her posture, a tweek of her cheek; She was already thinking of an excuse. I waited to hear it, judging it as well while taking my lashing. I didn't bother to remember it. I've probably heard it, or a version of it before. But the damage was done, and as force another ten seconds of conversation, I made my way back down stairs without hesitation, shaking off the defeat. I cursed at Ben secretly, wishing I, like him, didn't care. But the night was young, and by young I meant about midnight.Midnight was a dangerous time, as the dance floor was in full swing. I couldn't find Ben or Dawit, but Logan and Bernardo were still around and Logan watched me and Bernado, who thankfully had some concept of keeping time, dance about. But after leaving, it was hard to get back into the rythem. People moved like animals with the music as nothing more then a way of blinding them to their surroundings. Those who populated the dance floor were mainly those who I didn't know, leaving me and my two companions to stand off to the side, along with Basketball players that had been posted up against the wall the entire time anyway. It was almost intimidating to watch but we all kept our composure, with the exception of Logan who gave up early for a late night raid leaving me and Bernardo to marvel at the scene. The beat counted for nothing as the dancing that took place before us seemed out of control. Wild thrashing and grinding of bodies as flesh pressed to flesh created an aura of heat and pheromones that were only experienced a couple at a time, and though we watched, we all wanted that same feelings. The room was hot, unbearably so, as if urging us to remove clothing. I stepped outside repeatedly, where the crisp cold air refreshed me every time. Through the side door was a gathering of individuals all smoking and chatting, looking defeated by their addiction to tabacco or by the very same scene I had escaped from but I knew better. I was better then that, but somehow not better then the urge to escape. Bernardo had the same expression I did, disappointed but persistent. Dawit had returned to join us but at this point, our showoffish display had no value any longer. We used the music as our advantage, but it wasn't about the party anymore. It had been an hour into Sunday and those with no further ambition and been weeded out or returned to the bottle where they felt at home. But we were too naive, thankfully. Our inexperience was our greatest advantage in that we didn't know when to give up. We didn't have a goal, or even a target but rather an ideal of accomplishment that we chased. We made the best of the situation. Dawit was more outgoing then myself, or rather it was just his lack of standards that drove him. He would see a couple of girls and comically dance over to them, pulling me along as the wing man. He would give me the option of the two, as if asking which half of the sandwich I wanted after cutting it. Even if I wasn't interested in either, I didn't have much of a choice; I would much rather take one for the team and dance with someone I wasn't interested in then disappoint Dawit further. But it was completely void of feeling or rather connection. I paid no attention to the music, or her movement. It was almost like torture, as time slowed itself down so that I could experience every step of the beat with disgust. My eyes wondered as I tried to distract myself, but was only reminded of what I was denying myself, or being denied. The second the song ended I dragged myself from the situation, pulling Dawit with me as a result as if he couldn't handle the situation on his own. The heat of the room seemed to steam as a breathable mist filled the air. A gas more deadly as those who unwillingly inhaled it became lost in the moment. While time slowed for us, for others it stopped as almost shocking details took place before us. Hands lost their limits; self control took second priority to lust. But it wasn't just lust, it was more taboo, almost hard to watch. I looked off into other details but watched out of the corner of my eye. It was about now that Dawit commented, "I need another shot."I felt embarrassment, as if I had done something wrong without getting caught, a form of guilt with no one but myself as the judge. And yet there was no foundation behind this feeling. No one looked at them and frowned. It was completely acceptable. It was only then that I realized the feeling that weight down on me, and my two companions. It was over, the night was finished for me and it became Sunday morning. I swallowed my disappointment and headed for my things, prepared to leave, even saying goodbye to those who still posted up along the wall, experiencing the very same torture I had endured in vain. I grabbed my bag, full of everything I would think of needing for the evening and headed of the main entertance. But even though it was thirty minutes until the party ended, people were still coming in. I passed the shoulder of one as I strolled out, and turned my head with a simple 'excuse me', but what I got in return wasn't a work, rather a smile. A freshmen girl that played on the softball team that I had met before in study hall. The intoxicated smile glared into me with sinister intent and sent a chill along my spine, even in the heat of the frat house that radiated from the dance floor. The feeling I had before melted away in an instant as if all that mattered was the meaning of that smile as if it were aimed and meant for me. I turned from my original plans of leaving, and headed back to the radiation of the room, letting it embrace me.I had a mission, a hope almost. I scanned the room for her and in an instant picked up on her position, walking the long way about the room circling her from each angle as if picking the best angle to approach. She was already dancing with some guy, and I watched him to. I watched as his feet moved on their own accord, I watched how his hands stayed pinned to her as she moved freely, independent of the beat of the music. He was nothing compared to me, he wasn't worthy of my prize. And so I did something bold that I wouldn't have otherwise. The moment the music stopped I politely asked for a single dance with her. It would have been rude of him to say no, but before he could answer she had slipped from him and moved to me, leaving him with no choice to but except it and play it off as no big deal. But he was obviously defeated. I had experienced it myself and seen it myself and he couldn't escape it just as I couldn't. It was a victory for me, and just that one victory was enough to erase anything else I felt at the moment. I had my prize. It was as if it were my opportunity; back in my element. She moved upon me, lost, her body intoxicated yet sensual just as anyone else around me was. But I wasn't like anyone else now, I had power, the power given to me by a simple smile and the authority to use it was mine as well. My hands slipped down her figure, feeling her for myself, grasping her hand and her belt loops and as I turned my head about her neck I said clearly, "Just follow me, move with me, okay?" and she agreed. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the song, and letting it move through me; from my feet upward as if a wave until I had mastered it just as I would her. And as she moved with me, her form fit with mine, her hands moved curiously, like serpents along me and I watched them with my mind. I responded, turning her to face me and pressing her to myself. My our legs linked as she fell against me and embraced me with as much of herself as she could, clawing at the material of my shirt as I continued to lead her with the music. The lyrics set the tone and the mood, the bass lead our movement, and I controlled it all! What power. Drunken with it as I played about, amused with my freedom. I could have ravished her right then and there and she would have consented. And so one song turned into two and then thirty minutes of weightlessness, of complete control. I leaned upward, looking down upon her as she looked back to me with that same sinister smile, her eyes lost in a daze, only half open as the throbbing of the music rocked with us like a metronome. Her eyes begged as the lyrics moaned and the bass shook. I felt her, pinned, yet standing, hypnotized. I gazed back into her eyes and smiled with the same intent, the same sinister look and then I... caught myself. I looked away. My spine warmed as I was reminded of the heat. The warmth that radiate and burned with discomfort. I slipped from her as the song ended and shook myself from the inside out. I didn't even say goodbye, for that would mean I would have to look at her, or anyone else. I walked outside to refresh myself. The cold sting of the air as the breeze sifted the wind over the glossy sweat of my skin and forced me back inside for shelter, thought it was only temporary, as two in the morning had come and the frats began sweeping out the masses with, "Alright, parties over" and the ever popular, "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here!" The lights were turned on, and fog dispelled from the room bleeding out through the opened windows that had apparently been open the entire time. I walked about the house as if there was still something there for me, questioning myself, almost regretting, but not sure what there was to regret. Though it wasn't long until I too was gather with the masses and steadily shuffled out of the main door of the frat house, grabbing my things along the way. I watched as the cold air hit each person as their posture extended for only a second, but I wasn't about to let it have the same effect on me. I braced for it, and when it hit me I smiled in rebellion.
In the short story there was suppose to be a broad them involving rhythm and music. But in any case, when he was satisfied with what he had wrote nearly five hours later, he decided to return to his brothers home to find out what he had known about the mysterious mask. Now armed with a mini black book that had info on every individual of Sunagakure and a short story that would one day be a best seller he ventured off to his brothers apartment. His brother was actually happy to see him. His expression and tone led him to believe that his brother had infact found something out. He was absolutely correct. His brother showed him the artifact that was now one hundred percent fixed and ready. He explained to him that this was the work of the Ishiki clan and was documented in the books he got form his father that he had been hiding from Tousen up until that point. Tousen jumped at him for not telling him that there were some sort of secret books. In any case, Zommari quelled his outburst by telling him that he could keep the artifact. He then explained the artifact to him. It was infact a mask of sorts that became one with the senses of the user. When it was fixed, which it was, it was a sort of fencing mask that not only protected the user, but his entire body. The result was a sort of armor that gave him all sorts of extensive and exclusives boosts. However, it would close off the majority of his sense as a result, according to the usage book. He was okay with this, as even without the majority of his senses, he would have what was necessary. It also had other abilities that had to do with genjutsu. Tousen asked his brother if there was any way in which he could become more powerful quickly, as it was necessary for him to become more powerful in order for him to help sunagakure in the time of chaos. His brother thought for some time as they made small talk before deciding to help him. His solution was a form of genjutsu called the 'shadow spar' with that technique he could train him and his muscles via the mind exclusivity in a much shorter time. He would also have to train his muscles to be strong enough to react, but that would be the next step. Tousen's brother told him to come back the next day so that he would have time to store enough chakra for an entire day of illusionary training. Sort of like what one would expect form a simulation or a hologram. It was the Naruto version of the hyperbolic time chamber. Tousen returned home and rested himself ready for the next day. He slept. I mean honestly there isn't too many ways to say that he went home and went to bed. I could explain how Tousen's resolve to become more powerful to become an authority as a shinobi was a brilliant part of what would make him strong in the near future, or I could even go on a tangent about Tousen's ideals of site and 'true site' and how being blind was in fact in many ways liberating for him instead of constrictive. But really, how much do you care? He dreamed. In his dream, he mentally focused himself to control his dream so that he could meditate. Very often did he use this technique to think for extended periods of time. In most cases, dreams that last hours in our mind are only lapses of seconds. By training the mind to be conscious of ones actions while dreaming, they could manipulate their own dreams. This was where Tousen did the majority of his genjutsu training, where he could shape illusions with his own mind separated as a sort of sparring dumby. It wasn't a technique but rather something he had trained to do and it was something that mad him particularly hard to handle in battle because of his calm minded way of navigating almost any problem of situations. He now used this time to train his illusion. He didn't necessarily train as he did formulate. He formed many different genjutsu on that night to go along with the many that he already knew. In this way, he also made sure that he remembered them. He was able to basically save information to his mind like a program written and saved to a computer. He was only eighteen years of age and a master of his own mind, a genius in it's most pure of forms. In any case, he had shaped and formed these genjutsu, but having never used them, would have no idea on the toll it would have on his own body or what it would cost to his chakra. Either way, it was an extremely efficient use of time, as not only did he have more illusions in which to cast, but he also had done so while at the same time resting. In any case, it was bright and early the next day, and Tousen was curious to see what his brother had planned for him. He returned to his brothers home and walked in to see a very interesting site, not only Zommari, but Chris and J.D, two of his friends, were there. They were both medical ninja with incredible powers. The would be around to replenish his chakra at times, which would be extremely boring considering they would just be sitting around chilling in his house, possibly watching TV, playing the naruto equivalent of X-box and then boosting him from time to time, but it was necessary in Tousen's eyes. Well not necessarily in his eyes as he was infact blind if you didn't know that yet. Eyes being a metaphor of sorts for mind, or maybe not a metaphor but an allusion? One of those, I forget. English class was a bummer for me, I was never really interested in writing until recently but ANYWAY back to the story. Zommari was quick to explain; he would place his brother in a genjutsu and they would train in the illusion. His muscle memory would pick up on the movements and then he would be able to perform the techniques. He would however, lack the physical strength necessary, in which Chris and J.D. said that they would perform a technique to transfer Zommari's raw strength to Tousen's normal body. This would render Zommari a normal individual in terms of strength. He was no longer a shinobi and thus had no need to be strong. With that on top of Tousen's ability already and his new genjutsu AND new kenjutsu, he would be more then a match for any opponent. His Brother prepped him. They had breakfast together. It was a big breakfast so that he didn't necessarily have to eat until late in the day when it was all said and done and there was nothing left to do. Then, about 8am by our standards in the real world, he tossed his brother into the illusion. Here, his brother was modified to have strength equal to Zommari. In this way, he could perform the same techniques at the same strength as his brother. He only had to perform each technique once in order to master it by saving it to his mind, however this was also difficult because even with all of his sensory abilities he didn't have a way of correctly doing any technique the first time around. It took almost all day, 13 hours of training, which was exactly three months time for Zommari and Tousen in the dream world, but he had managed to master all of the techniques that were passed down by Ishiki swordsmen, and now made a parallel generational hop from brother to brother. The next part of the operation was a bit more strenuous. It involved fuuinjutsu, ninjutsu and even taijutsu in that they were pulling they physical energy and stamina capacity from Zommari and stacking it on top of Tousen's abilities. This was a process that took another six hours and by the time they were done, Zommari was just another person that could conjure genjutsu, shunk to the chakra capacity of a genin, while his brother was well into the skill of a Jounin. It was quite possibly one of the more outrageous sacrifices one brother had ever made for another and Tousen would forever be in debt to his brother. His brother simply stated that it was the least he could do; if he could no longer be a shinobi and protect his brother, then he would support his brother by helping him achieve his goals. In this way, he could also help take care of his brother by lending him his strength. One recalls Dragon ball Z where the Namakian named 'Nail' fuzed himself with Picalo so that Picalo could help combat Freeza. It was basically a long drawn out version of that. I thought it was nifty. Hey, if people can get power by plucking out eyes, then I can stack Stamina Capacity can't I? In any case, this has all been a terribly written attempt to gain a bunch of power at once. I even got bored and wrote a short story because I was feeling inspired to write about a college experience. Consider it a filler of sorts. In fact, out of this entire thing, I think the filler is probably the best written; but I digress, back to the plot. The next day, they all woke up about 1pm. They had been up very late, and they had all been drained of chakra from the experience. Tousen spent the rest of the day getting used to his new strength. After all, a decades worth of raw power placed in an individual in a day can easily make them clumbsy. Tousen was ready however. His mental training gave him dominion over himself and thus his body would follow as he willed. He only had to tap into the memory that he had already implanted on himself. It was active acceptance, manipulation of the self. A weapon far more powerful in capable hands then the manipulation of others. Placing trust into others can lead to disappointment, but trusting in yourself and one will always know the outcome, because an individual manifests their own destiny in the long run. With that said, let em come! Let them try to stop me now. If they leave I will act. If they try to leave I will find them, I will bring them back and let the harsh wind and desert sun cast judgement on them. I will forgive, but never forget. I will see when all around me are blind; for it is my duty. I will be the most powerful shinobi when the world is ready for me. I have not only the resolve to save Sunagakure but now I have the tools to make it a reality. I will find ally, powerful friends and brothers, and together we will bring Sunagakure up from the sands. He will rebuild it on solid foundation and keep the balance that is needed in this world in tact. When chaos emerges and succeeds, it is up to those agents of order to take responsibility. No more waiting for others to do OUR job, OUR work. We are Shinobi of the village Hidden in the Sand, and will he fight for what we believe in. Justice of Order, that is my ninja way...