Dispassion - [Yurei, Training]

Songbirds still their chime
And wintry winds sing instead
Life is too quiet?

Life is too loud.
Life is…

Yurei paused, placing his pen to his side. He sighed, placing the ceramic lid on top of the ink and laid back in his seat.. His mask, bristling like snow in the gray sunlight, lay on the log beside him. He raised his fingers to his lips, staring down at the parchment before him. Snow had begun to gather onto it, sparse flakes and the like too cold to melt. It had been some time since he’d written, or since he’d created any sort of art. In fact, the last time he recalled as much was before he left Hoshigakure. Not since Akio had the thought of picking up a brush or pen come to mind. 

And yet, now he felt the need to try again. Damon had departed on a small mission, one he alone was more than capable of handling. In his absence, a spark of interest had just kindled into smoke, and the Uchiha was furiously trying to create flame. Yurei reached for his pen, and he felt the smoke cool. Inspiration had lost him completely, or perhaps he, it. Looking at the words, the air became clear, and his hands instead fell into his lap.

Demon Country was notorious for its plains. Snow was light if ever, at least in the time Yurei had spent here, and yet today he felt the need to charge into it for poetry. He could just barely feel his hands. He stood, taking a breath of the chilled air. The shinobi felt still, as if he’d been left out here too long. 

There were no birds, no rabbits. No creatures beneath the logs, nor lumbering in the earth. Demon country, at this time, was dead, and all Yurei could hear was the soft wind swirling around him. His footprints were shallow, and with each step the browning grass shown through the patches of snow. Ten paces placed him at his tent. The cooking pot beneath it grumbled, growling like hot tar. Yurei bent over to remove its lid, sliding the diced meat into the kettle’s contents.

He’d not had meat often, but with Damon’s mark seal still intact he knew the Uchiha would be back soon, and what passed as a feast for them was on its way as well. Yurei took a deep breath and released it, closing his eyes to take in the food aroma and the fire’s heat beneath it. 

It’s impossibly cold.

He sat at the tent, grasping at the sack next to him. Inside were a series of scrolls he and Damon had obtained over the years. Odds and ends, jutsu, information, maps. From time to time Yurei sifted through its contents to see if anything piqued his interest. Usually there was little of value, but now that the Uchiha sat in the snow he remembered a particular jutsu perfect for this occasion. Fire jutsu he had become a master of. The skill was practically innate in Uchiha. Most, at least. However, this particular jutsu was one of its counters - Earth.

With a flick, the parchment rolled out, crackling with age as the paper spread. Yurei laid it flat on the ground, reading as he held either end. Earth jutsu was something he’d only recently discovered an affinity for, and it was much different than that of fire or lightning, perhaps its opposite as far as basic chakra natures went. Where fire and lightning were erratic and fluid, Earth was dense. Moreso, it was particularly stubborn.

Yurei’s eyes flashed over the scroll once more, and, closing it, he laid back into the soft texture of the earth. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel his own chakra flowing through him - then, out of him. The process took a number of minutes. The expelling of one’s chakra was one thing, but the changing of its nature during, especially one so different from the norm, was another. With this particularly jutsu as well, the possibility of melding with the earth and becoming stuck at its core was particularly real.

Soon, however, Yurei began to sink. The method was similar to that of Kamui, at least visually, but the sensation could not be more different. As the tent’s roof disappeared before his eye, Yurei felt  the warmth of the chakra swirling around him as he did not carve, but changed the earth beneath him. It moved around him as if he was part of it, allowed entry to move within its confines without resistance.

Kamui was different. It was cold, but not bitterly so, and static. His dimension had provided nothing but protection, but it was barren, empty. The black obelisks filling its void bobbed like bait in an empty lake, and the air was still, as if Yurei were its first breath in centuries. AS unnatural as it felt, however, Yurei had begun to enjoy its borders. It was his, his alone, and it was a pale reflection of himself. 

Detached. 

And he blinked, finding himself in a cavern just below his tent. The Uchiha landed on his feet,. His heels clacked, the sandals on his feet colliding with the rocky floor almost like an instrument. Sloched, he stood, albeit slowly. The cave was surprisingly luminous, glowing in hues of blue and green. Crystals pulsing with light lined its walls, and the small trickle of water echoed throughout its space.

The brilliant lights reflected off of Yurei’s pale eyes, and what he assumed to be static, ancient air instead had a crispness to it. Flowers bloomed beneath the icy surface, glowing in the cave’s darkness. Beetles lined its walls, and mushrooms took what had died and replaced it with a cyan bloom.

-------

The pen scratched at the parchment in symphony, and the ink left its mark, and the completed work laid out before Yurei - snow falling onto its edges. He placed his pen in his case, and once more clasped off the bottle of ink.

Songbirds still their chime
And wintry winds sing instead

Life is but hiding

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WC: 1022
Claiming Hiding like a Mole 1000/1000
10 stats to vigor = 60