Snippet #8114

The morning mist poured into the forest as it always did, looming from the unsettled territories of Fukachi and through Shifting Shadows like a wandering spirit. Hyugan knelt on a thin mat in his room, facing the lush foliage from the open door of his balcony. A prayer to the deities was said every morning, a force of habit the Yamabushi Monks of his past had drilled into him, relentlessly. Izanagi, the forefather of the gods was always mentioned before his beloved wife, Izanami, the goddess of creation and death.

His thoughts in reflection to her were always of guilt. Never was it toward the pitiful he had slain with his own hands; The riling filth of Akusho or corrupted officials of Empire City. Always to the innocent Yamabushi of his childhood and to Uesugi Konda, the high priest that looked after him with fatherly care. Had he been the man he is now, the bandits would've never had a chance to light their torches onto the temple grounds. Uesugi Konda would still be in the Shinto shrine, preaching the selfless ways of their religion with a bright smile.

Hyugan cooled himself from the thoughts of his vengeful blood-lust, the violent acts he committed to earn the Blood Moon rank still fresh in his mind. The path of the Shifting Shadows is one that never treads backwards... The grim words of the Master flickered into his head, droning out dark memories that sought to unease him. He had done terrible things and Hyugan believed his evolution as a ninja stripped away whatever qualities Konda had hoped to give him.

The high priest would be ashamed, this much Hyugan concluded long ago, yet he never understood why a pious monk would raise a child knowing he would undergo training as an assassin. For twenty years the questions of his past continue to haunt him, but his role in the Shifting Shadows belayed any search for answers. He is a Blood Moon now, a heartless shinobi under the Shifting Shadows. Nothing else should matter anymore...

Such intangible complexities made Hyugan uncomfortable and he needed to feel control again. He rose from the mat and slid the balcony door shut. He turned to face the casual garments he hung on an apple branch stemming from a giant oak that took up the left wall of his room; One of many great trees that held the village of Shifting Shadows 100 feet into the air. Changing into a comfortable cloth jacket and trousers, he exited his living quarters and proceeded toward the training grounds.