The boy steps one inch closer to the edge of the cliff, the scent of the sea was fresh and the breeze was strong against his face. He looked up to the sky, eyes squinting at the cloudless horizon that he had to raise his hand to provide some shade for his eyes to see the wonderful skies that overlooked the endless sea beneath it. He then trained his eyes towards his bare feet, the feeling of dirt and grass against his sole was flitting as he saw the water below. The waves that hit the side of the cliff weren’t as strong as usual, but one wrong move, a miscalculation on his part, and the rocks might be his end.
Yet, there was no fear, not even of death, for such a thought did not exist in his mind. All that reflected against his green eyes were the ebbing waves, the soothing crests, and the melodic humming of the sea.
He takes a moment to look to the side, catching a glimpse of the rather busy harbor of Port Cirrus. The newly acquired job for his father’s fishing crew had the Old Man plotting their next week out into the deep seas for catching. It’ll be a while before he could take-in the beauty of the sea from his favorite spot. Then again, it would mean being surrounded by the mysterious waters for an entire week as well. Quite the dilemma– he thought.
But the journey would begin that night, so he will have to savour the moment now. And so, with a grin forming on his face, he bent his knees before kicking outward, throwing out his arms into the wind as he fell.
The view was always beautiful no matter how many times he would attempt it. The quick scrolling of the cliff’s wall behind him, the stretching of the sea before him, and the impending splash. He loved every bit of sensation it brought to him, especially that odd familiarity once he submerges completely.
SPLASH!!!
Arms and feet wave calmly as he makes sense of his surroundings within the water. He wasn’t bothered much by the clothes that he wore, when others would feel quite weighted down by them. He swirled into the realm where gravity seemed to be warped, where light reflected through the surface in strange patterns that made the sea radiate from underneath, and where he did not fear the sightless depth of the sea.
The only thing that worried him was forgetting the sensation on his chest, that thumping excitement that was also calming at the same time. And when he would break into the surface, the first gasp of air was often together with a sigh. Red hair drapes against his face as he looks up to the sky, his body now floating on the sea as his feet slowly paddles him towards the harbor.
Back then, he thought such a feeling was only because he loved the thrill of the jump and diving deep into the open waters. Back then, he thought it was normal to dare against the storm when they were out at sea on the fishing ship, or when he shouted against the gales and then run from the decks and skidding against the watery surface never losing his balance before finally jumping overboard to challenge the frigid waters. People of Port Cirrus were tough and big-boned that it was natural to get physical and dive into the untameable sea.
He, however, as he learned, was a bit more. The call of the sea was not out of profession. He was raised in the port town, yes, and new more about fishing and swimming than the alphabet by the time he attempted the town’s small school, but he was also a stranger that was welcomed by the unknown waters. After having learned that he was not a local, found along the Bear-Marsh countries when his father had been traveling, he had no blood heritage that could be derived towards the port town, but he was loved by the sea as he did the latter.
Of course, now that he had become a student in Kumogakure’s academy, he had come to realise that he was more attuned to water jutsus. Knowing its untameable but versatile nature, he was proud of his innate understanding of the element. Too proud he had forgotten to study the rest. After all, no other element made him feel so confident of himself as when he would look at the swirling mass of water that would gather along his chakra-infused hand before it disperses into a spray turning into mist. Sometimes, it did not matter anymore that he did not know of his own origins. He was like the water, no beginning and no end. He simply exists, content, untameable, versatile, ever encompassing.
But still, from time to time, his bubble would burst and he would be found running from his apartment, seemingly moody. He would run towards the Vespasian Colosseum at first, hoping the noise and the excitement of the shops outside the wall and the cheers from inside would remind him of the hustle and bustle of the tradings of Port Cirrus. But it wasn’t enough that day.
He clicked his tongue as he turned and started running off again. This time he found himself entering Shinbatsu’s Path, otherwise known as the training grounds. Here, he would often find some of the stronger warriors test their mettle in mock fights, or the younger shinobis would train. He would find a place for himself where he could let out his frustrations in movements that there were now engrained to his memory. Who would have thought daily training as a shinobi would beat the hard labor of fishing? Well, he never would have found out if he hadn’t left Port Cirrus.
Ah, even just recalling home made him sulk despite getting into the groove of training.
He sighed as he wiped a hand over his sweat-trickled forehead. Having tossed his jacket and shirt aside, wearing just his pants and boots now, he wondered if he should have brought along some spares. The voices of the others training hard ought to embarrass him for slacking off, yet his mind quickly wandered off as he looked up to look at the sky. Unlike in Port Cirrus where it felt so distant, the heavens look so closer from here, and yet, both skies were the same. Nevertheless, the overcast sky looming overhead was reminiscent of home on normal days so it brought a smile on his face.
And so, he started with reaching out a hand, stretching skyward before he deftly moved about his body like he was imitating the dancing waves. He closed his eyes, imagining the sea breeze against him, the scent of the water, and the excitement of the plunge. He could feel his chakra moving like the tide, cresting and crashing, and when he opened his eyes, he gathered it around his palm where the moisture in the air formed into a sphere of water. He looked at it very hard, eyes glaring, mind racing, wanting nothing more than to discover its potential… before he burst out into laughing and threw the water against his face, splashing himself.
“I need the ocean again,” he said, panting though far cheerier than earlier. But he knew better than to run all the way home just to jump off from his favorite cliff. Though tempting as it was, he decided not to. He cannot be a child forever.
Kumogakure must have heard his plea when the overcast skies began to pour and rain fell onto his being. At first, it was a mild surprise before it became a welcoming friend. And before he knew it, he was one of the few who remained in that open training field, dancing in rehearsed movements of martial arts and interchanging with channeling his chakra to manipulate the water around him.
Like the water that was untameable, moody, versatile, and rippling through time without beginning and end, he finally found a certain peace that resounded within his heart. Running across the wet grounds to slide and jump and twist midair, to grasp the unknown before chakra wounds around the hand and sends a burst of water, streaming. Then landing, pausing, looking at his result and doing it all over again so long as the rain poured and his soul was content.
Word Count: 1414
Yet, there was no fear, not even of death, for such a thought did not exist in his mind. All that reflected against his green eyes were the ebbing waves, the soothing crests, and the melodic humming of the sea.
He takes a moment to look to the side, catching a glimpse of the rather busy harbor of Port Cirrus. The newly acquired job for his father’s fishing crew had the Old Man plotting their next week out into the deep seas for catching. It’ll be a while before he could take-in the beauty of the sea from his favorite spot. Then again, it would mean being surrounded by the mysterious waters for an entire week as well. Quite the dilemma– he thought.
But the journey would begin that night, so he will have to savour the moment now. And so, with a grin forming on his face, he bent his knees before kicking outward, throwing out his arms into the wind as he fell.
The view was always beautiful no matter how many times he would attempt it. The quick scrolling of the cliff’s wall behind him, the stretching of the sea before him, and the impending splash. He loved every bit of sensation it brought to him, especially that odd familiarity once he submerges completely.
SPLASH!!!
Arms and feet wave calmly as he makes sense of his surroundings within the water. He wasn’t bothered much by the clothes that he wore, when others would feel quite weighted down by them. He swirled into the realm where gravity seemed to be warped, where light reflected through the surface in strange patterns that made the sea radiate from underneath, and where he did not fear the sightless depth of the sea.
The only thing that worried him was forgetting the sensation on his chest, that thumping excitement that was also calming at the same time. And when he would break into the surface, the first gasp of air was often together with a sigh. Red hair drapes against his face as he looks up to the sky, his body now floating on the sea as his feet slowly paddles him towards the harbor.
Back then, he thought such a feeling was only because he loved the thrill of the jump and diving deep into the open waters. Back then, he thought it was normal to dare against the storm when they were out at sea on the fishing ship, or when he shouted against the gales and then run from the decks and skidding against the watery surface never losing his balance before finally jumping overboard to challenge the frigid waters. People of Port Cirrus were tough and big-boned that it was natural to get physical and dive into the untameable sea.
He, however, as he learned, was a bit more. The call of the sea was not out of profession. He was raised in the port town, yes, and new more about fishing and swimming than the alphabet by the time he attempted the town’s small school, but he was also a stranger that was welcomed by the unknown waters. After having learned that he was not a local, found along the Bear-Marsh countries when his father had been traveling, he had no blood heritage that could be derived towards the port town, but he was loved by the sea as he did the latter.
Of course, now that he had become a student in Kumogakure’s academy, he had come to realise that he was more attuned to water jutsus. Knowing its untameable but versatile nature, he was proud of his innate understanding of the element. Too proud he had forgotten to study the rest. After all, no other element made him feel so confident of himself as when he would look at the swirling mass of water that would gather along his chakra-infused hand before it disperses into a spray turning into mist. Sometimes, it did not matter anymore that he did not know of his own origins. He was like the water, no beginning and no end. He simply exists, content, untameable, versatile, ever encompassing.
But still, from time to time, his bubble would burst and he would be found running from his apartment, seemingly moody. He would run towards the Vespasian Colosseum at first, hoping the noise and the excitement of the shops outside the wall and the cheers from inside would remind him of the hustle and bustle of the tradings of Port Cirrus. But it wasn’t enough that day.
He clicked his tongue as he turned and started running off again. This time he found himself entering Shinbatsu’s Path, otherwise known as the training grounds. Here, he would often find some of the stronger warriors test their mettle in mock fights, or the younger shinobis would train. He would find a place for himself where he could let out his frustrations in movements that there were now engrained to his memory. Who would have thought daily training as a shinobi would beat the hard labor of fishing? Well, he never would have found out if he hadn’t left Port Cirrus.
Ah, even just recalling home made him sulk despite getting into the groove of training.
He sighed as he wiped a hand over his sweat-trickled forehead. Having tossed his jacket and shirt aside, wearing just his pants and boots now, he wondered if he should have brought along some spares. The voices of the others training hard ought to embarrass him for slacking off, yet his mind quickly wandered off as he looked up to look at the sky. Unlike in Port Cirrus where it felt so distant, the heavens look so closer from here, and yet, both skies were the same. Nevertheless, the overcast sky looming overhead was reminiscent of home on normal days so it brought a smile on his face.
And so, he started with reaching out a hand, stretching skyward before he deftly moved about his body like he was imitating the dancing waves. He closed his eyes, imagining the sea breeze against him, the scent of the water, and the excitement of the plunge. He could feel his chakra moving like the tide, cresting and crashing, and when he opened his eyes, he gathered it around his palm where the moisture in the air formed into a sphere of water. He looked at it very hard, eyes glaring, mind racing, wanting nothing more than to discover its potential… before he burst out into laughing and threw the water against his face, splashing himself.
“I need the ocean again,” he said, panting though far cheerier than earlier. But he knew better than to run all the way home just to jump off from his favorite cliff. Though tempting as it was, he decided not to. He cannot be a child forever.
Kumogakure must have heard his plea when the overcast skies began to pour and rain fell onto his being. At first, it was a mild surprise before it became a welcoming friend. And before he knew it, he was one of the few who remained in that open training field, dancing in rehearsed movements of martial arts and interchanging with channeling his chakra to manipulate the water around him.
Like the water that was untameable, moody, versatile, and rippling through time without beginning and end, he finally found a certain peace that resounded within his heart. Running across the wet grounds to slide and jump and twist midair, to grasp the unknown before chakra wounds around the hand and sends a burst of water, streaming. Then landing, pausing, looking at his result and doing it all over again so long as the rain poured and his soul was content.
Word Count: 1414
