Substitute Teacher

Lady Superior Mora Mikiri, Leader of the Orthodox Church of Jashin, had lived a long and colorful life. She had grown up in circumstances that were not particularly different than your average Mikiri. Yet she had always yearned for more. The desire was not much unlike that of her current follower Shimiko Chinoike, although there were a few differences in their early journey. Mora's love for the religion grew to overpower her love of family. She still wanted to keep them safe and so she kept her distance. Mora's affiliation with Jashinism could only bring more suspicion and hatred upon a clan that was already partially distrusted. Mora's family grieved for her, but time slowly took each of them. Now that she had returned to her clan, there were only a handful of people that knew her personally. The legalization of Jashinism had been very controversial but like all things, time made it more digestible. The Mikiri Clan was surprised that one of their own had been secretly leading this Jashinist sect for decades, and there were mixed feelings among its leadership. The few that knew Mora vouched for her, but for the vast majority she was a stranger that wielded a dangerous amount of influence.

Mora visited the clan compound in order to assuage their fears. She wanted to let them know that despite the intrigue that surrounded her position, she was still a Mikiri. She cared for her kin. Mora explained that while she loved Jashin with all her heart, she also cared about the future of the clan. She had stepped away in order to protect it, but now that Orthodox Jashinism was legal in Kumogakure she could make it a part of her life again. Mora insisted that her goal was not the mass conversion of the clan but merely to take part in the development of the shinobi clan's future. She wanted a seat at the table so to speak. She would mentor the children in things other than Jashinism and would ensure that their concerns about the Church were heard and addressed. She swore to use her newfound power and influence not just to better the Church's standing but that of her own family as well.

The speech received a mixed reaction. They had not outright refused her presence nor had they laughed her out of the compound. They were polite and respectful, but they were clearly not wholly convinced. Pleasantries and hollow responses were given but the gist was that the clan needed time to think it over. They were some who welcomed her return and saw it as an opportunity to further the clan's interests but there many who viewed the Church with suspicion and distrust. They saw her as an interloper attempting to use her blood connection to gain more converts among the Mikiri. The meeting was adjourned and Mora went on her way. She was permitted to visit but agreed that the right could be revoked at any time. For now, she chose to wander around a bit. She wasn't seeking out anyone's company but it was clear from how she carried herself that she wouldn't mind it either

The Lady Superior was wearing a black tunic, sandals, and a religious hat on her head. Her shaggy grey hair fell down to her shoulders and she walked with her hands clasped behind her back.

In the early morning hours, with fog creeping through the village, Irui had discovered the Mikiri Quarter to be buzzing with activity. Peering through his bedroom window, he'd watched elders of the clan file through the winding street, climbing the steps to an atrium. Though the clan was small, a gathering of the Mikiri was significant.
 
He pulled on his field clothes; the dark pants and footwear of the Hidden Cloud, with their white and grey jacket. Creeping softly over the floor, he inched his way over to the window and slid it open gently, careful not to rouse his mother below. Irui poked his head out, eyeing the crowd, and gingerly twisted his body over the sill and onto the overhanging tiles of the roof.
 
"Just like class, its just like class, its just like--" He whispered underbreath as his sole touch the slick material. He felt it, like electricity, a spark of chakra licked the tile. Wide eyed, Irui gripped the window sill, and cocked his head, angling his foot to get a better look at the jutsu in action. "Ohshitoshitshit its working!"
 
He pressed the remainder of his foot onto the roof, and his chakra sealed his grip to the tile, like a lizard clinging to glass. Giggling in his excitement, and emboldened he positioned himself on the roof, drew his hood like a videogame assassin, and crept forward across the rooftop. With each step his confidence only grew. Catlike, Irui moved across the roofs of the Mikiri Quarter, following the path of his clansmen, sometimes on all fours; scurrying across the spines of buildings and leaping gaps. As Irui grew near the atrium he flattened himself against the tiles and peered over the top. Cold rainwater and dew immediately infiltrated his clothes, prickled his skin and stomach.
 
"Now... what do we have here?" He wondered.
 
Heartbeats later, a woman clothed in black emerged from closed doors, and the gathered Mikiri fell into silence. Was it respect? Shock? Animosity? The air chilled as she strode, passing through the ranks with marked purpose. Irui followed her with dark eyes. So much attention and clamor for a single Mikiri?
 
Quietly as he could, he lifted off the perch, and scurried after the woman in black, stealing himself back to observe as she meandered, passing shops and homes in the tightly packed district. Whoever she was, her arrival had been met with spectacle. Straining to get a better look, Irui crept closer to the edge of an overhang, nearly leaning over. The woman's grey hair framed an aged face, and s--
 
"SHI--!!" He yelped as his footing kicked out from beneath him, and the mischievous rain sent him smacking against the rooftop. Hard. It took only a moment for fresh pain to slither through his nerves, and he realized why: In his curiosity, he'd forgotten to maintain his chakra flow. The rain wouldn't allow him a recovery; instantly slipping the tiles from his grasp, the boy slid and tumbled forward until gravity caught him--
 
With a cry he arrested himself as fingers snatched the lip of of a gutter, and the side of a pipe, leaving him dangled over the street. Irui looked over his shoulder straight at the woman and swallowed hard. He'd been seen.
 
"I am so so so sorry! I didn'tmeanitIswear!Ijutwantedtoseehwta--" His apology blurted from lips until the gutter groaned in protest. It lurched, buckling for only a second more, before unceremoniously dropping the young Mikiri before her with a shower of water. Soaking wet, Irui coughed and wiped the water from his eyes, fumbling for an answer.
 
"I-I-I am so sorry, ma'am!" He stammered trying to collect himself.

A soft clatter. Murmuring words. Even with the bustle of activity, Mora could tell that she was being followed. She had spent years hiding in the gutters and mountains of this country. At any moment, Kumo shinobi could have come bursting into their den of worship. Thus, it was imperative that every Sacristan have an impeccable sense of hearing. Mora continued walking as though she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. She was content to keep the charade going for as long as Irui could manage to maintain some semblance of stealth. Unfortunately, that wasn't very long.

The boy lost his footing and was soon dangling from a rooftop. Mora's head turned and she watched with an amused look on her face. Irui apologized profusely before falling before her with a great splash. He had gotten water on her clothes and hat, but she didn't give any indication that she was upset with him. The lad was flustered and embarrassed, that much was obvious. Yet lurking beneath his apologies was a fierce curiosity. He had probably noticed the commotion her arrival had caused and saw fit to investigate. Many genin his age would rather blow it off as old folks politics.

It would be an overstatement to say that Mora liked children. While she didn't like them per se, she appreciated their sense of wonderment and curiosity. It made them malleable but it also made them dangerous in a way that only a Jashinist could appreciate. She said nothing as he scrambled about to get himself in order. Her expression was neutral but had a friendly tint to it. She gazed at him and took in his features. He was a trueborn Mikiri, with silver hair and dark brown eyes. The marks on his hands were evidence of his heritage even if he couldn't quite use them yet.

"Haha, its no trouble really" she said with a light-hearted laugh. "I'm flattered that you took time out of your busy day to spy on an old lady like me"

She didn't want to put him on the spot, but she knew it was important to establish her status as a trained warrior. If word got out that a genin got the drop on her, then what might someone with hostile intentions think? She wasn't worried that they'd be able to harm her, she was worried that she'd need to defend herself and kill the accoster. Even worse, Shimiko and the rest of the faithful would be up in arms about the affair. Orthodox Jashinists could be peaceful when necessary, but they were not the forgiving type. So long as Irui understood that she was a competent old crone in her own right, then she wouldn't have anything to fear about this little incident coming back to hurt her reputation.

Sopping wet and still reeling from the fall, Irui's mouth ran at full speed; stammering out every variation of apology his brain could manage. Who was she? No idea, but his panic button knew she was important, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins button-mashe--

"Its no problem," The elder spoke warmly. Irui could only sputter and look on, his eyes wide. Boy his face must have looked ridiculous-- a blend of genuine shock, flushed with embarrassment. But here he was, his antic being brushed aside oh-so casually. She continued:  "I'm flattered that you took time out of your busy day to spy on an old lady like me"

That last bit. It hit him hard in the gut, a sharp sting that told him he wasn't  out of the proverbial woods just yet. All of this had happened so fast. His heart was racing, his clothes were soaked. Painfully his body became aware of its own injuries-- small bruises that would be splotching his skin in due time. His palms gripped the cold cobblestone, felt the course grit between his fingers, and he staggered to his feet on aching knees and a sore backside. The morning cold had begun to work its way into the wet fabric of his clothes, turning stammers into chattering teeth. Fitting. The Genin must have reminded her of a mouse caught in a trap.

"Its--Its just I have never seen you here, and its so unusual this early to hold meetings." He managed, rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly. "I had to see what it was about. You must be a member of House Mikiri, but if you don't mind me asking so bluntly: Who are you?" Irui  said, his eyes shifting across her clothing, hunting for a piece of information. A headband, jewelry, anything to tell him more. Her attire, black as ink, stood out the most strongly, jiving against the Hidden Cloud's palettes and especially those of the Mikiri. She was a black sheep to the clan, and perhaps the village.

Irui continued to stumble through a series of apologies as he scrambled to right himself. Mora watched as the discombobulated genin got to his feet and tried to explain himself. He noted that he hadn't seen her before and that it was unusual for the Mikiri to hold a meeting this early in the morning. The Superior Sacristan smiled as she noted his perceptive capabilities. He had correctly identified her as a Mikiri, but he wanted to know more about her. She saw no harm in telling him. The old woman had made her presence known to his elders so why not extend the same courtesy to the youth of the clan? They were after all the future of their people. She nodded and gave him a warm, patient, and understanding smile.

"You are correct Young Spymaster. My name is Mora Mikiri....Superior Sacristan of the Orthodox Church of Jashin"

There was no use sugarcoating her title, and even if there were an argument in favor for it, Mora wouldn't have held back. The people of the Clan needed to know that one of their own commanded such a fearsome and controversial position. The boy appeared to be a bit awkward but he had the right instincts. If he had his ear to the ground (metaphorically speaking) he'd at least partially recall the organization. It was a new and frightening religion that had taken up residence in the village. Jashinism had long been illegal in the country, but by decree of the Raikage, it was now a tolerated and protected religious class. The Church had used their status to quickly acquire more power, utilizing the ANBU Captain Shimiko Chinoike as a vector to influence military decision-making. They had constructed a sprawling cathedral and were slowly amassing followers among both the shinobi and civilian populations. Mora did not expect Irui to know or understand the intricacies associated with her organization, but so long as there was some familiarity, she could use that to entice him.

"I am the head of an ancient and powerful religous institution, and it is my duty as a Mikiri to regularly report to my learned friends and elders. I have been gone for sometime, but now that I'm back I think I can help place our clan right where it needs to be..."

Again, the old lady offered a genuine smile.

"And what should I call you Young Spymaster?"

"You are correct, young spymaster," The woman replied, embellishing the boy with a title that brought a blush and light smile. Spymaster? He liked the ring of that. Irui, the Spymaster, master of secrets-- ooh, no "thief of secrets? aah--


"My name is Mora Mikiri, Superior Sacristan of the Orthodox Church of Jashin." .

The name smack him like ice water; a slap to the senses that told him this was more than just pleasantries. Such a religion sat unpleasantly in his stomach, as he digested it, and turned it over thrice in his head. Long associated with depravity and madness of the darkest kind, the Church had persisted through generations of persecution, and been reborn anew. Trial by hellfire. From the smoke and ash, it had risen, and been given a protected status by the Hidden Cloud. Some saw it as a culture shift, others a miracle. To Irui's parents and family?

"I am the head of an ancient and powerful religous institution," Mora continue, choosing her words carefully, "--and it is my duty as a Mikiri to regularly report to my learned friends and elders. I have been gone for sometime, but now that I'm back I think I can help place our clan right where it needs to be...." Her tone was level, there was no mad raving, and frothing here.

Irui blinked, and realized how tense he had become, how dry his mouth had grown. He swallowed  hard, and unclenched his fist. His heartbeat too had quickened. Was this church as bad as it had always seemed?

She wanted to know his name. Again, calling him a Spymaster, tugging at his ego. He did like the sound of it.

"Ah-- uh, Mikiri Irui," He murmured, licking his lips and trying to adopt a more leisurely appearance. "Mora-sama," He added returning to her: "I'm sorry, but you're not like the people I've read about in the books, forgive me, but this was the last place I thought I'd meet a Jashinist." HIs eyes narrowed.

"My mother and father.... They always told me to never talk to your Church; said it was a cult," He risked a glance over his shoulder, half expecting a henchman, "Look, I hate how restrictive the clan is, but what do you mean by 'placing it where it needs to be'?" He continued, albeit a bit aggressively. Adrenaline had woven its way through his body. "We are where we are because we've kept to ourselves-- I--I--"

He fluttered for a moment, then bit it out.

"--I was told the Church was evil!"

He recognized the Church by name. Mora could see it in his expression. For years, she had shepherded her Church while it was a mere underground cult. She knew the look in someone's eyes when they realized who they had crossed paths with. Even now that the Orthodoxy had risen in stature, the look in people's eyes remained. It was an unmistakable combination of fear and wonderment. Few religions could provoke such a reaction.

The stuttering genin introduced himself as Mikiri Irui. It was a nice name for a nice young man. Mora could tell that his intentions were good despite the accusatory words he spoke. It couldn't be helped. Irui's parents had already poisoned his mind with blasphemous lies about the faith. It was a tad bit disappointing, but it made for a good challenge. And she had no doubt that Irui would provide a suitable challenge indeed. You see, Mora was a careful listener. She had to be. As a Sacristan she was responsible for not only hearing the woes of her flock, but also the voice of Jashin himself. Irui was racked with nervousness, but his subconscious had chosen his words carefully.

"--I was told the Church was evil!"

If Irui truly believed everything he was told, he'd be a proper idiot and Mora could tell that he was no idiot. Irui himself had yet to make a value judgment on the Church or so Mora suspected. He had not hurled a true accusation of evil and wrongdoing at her. Instead, he referenced the words of those he had been taught to respect and honor. Fortunately for Mora, she had curiosity on her side. And curiosity was often a powerful weapon against those who hid behind the warnings of their family. He acknowledged that she did not fit his preconceived notions of what a Jashinist was like. She could understand why. Most apostates depicted Jashinists as frothing at the mouth lunatics. Serial killers who massacred everything in their path. It wasn't an entirely false stereotype as most sects lacked the truth of the Orthodoxy. They could not live within civilized society and they lacked the organization necessary to weather a sustained campaign of elimination. This is why most sects tended to die out and never achieved anything resembling a mass following. It would make sense that such a uniquely powerful sect contained unique leadership.

"I'm glad that I defied your expectations Spymaster Irui." She used the nickname again. She saw the micro-expressions in his face when she had uttered it and she instinctively knew that he had taken a liking to it. Many genin longed for an identity. They craved that sort of attention and respect. They wanted to carve out their own specialties and titles, many would kill in cold blood if it meant they'd have a sick new alias to brag about.

"Normally, I'd say that your parents are wise and that you should listen to them....but that'd make me a liar. And Jashin forbids me from lying in circumstances such as this. Your parents fear the Church and what they fear they brand as evil or deviant. Their fear is justifiable as our faith holds secrets that would make even our ancestors' blood run cold....But..."

Mora would take a few steps towards Irui at this point. She kept her hands clasped behind her back as she grew closer. The crone would almost walk right past him but instead, she stopped, looking straight ahead but leaning a bit as if to tell him a secret.  

"Spymasters don't fear secrets, now do they?" The question was rhetorical and its tone was phrased as if it were a challenge. "They understand them. They master them. They use them for their own ends. It is true the Mikiri Clan has grown strong clinging to the ways of old, but take it from someone who knows. Every organization needs to evolve. Stagnation is destruction. Our learned kin grow comfortable with their position of power and respect. They lack vision. I only seek to impart some much-needed perspective to the young and old alike."

Mora would raise an eyebrow and smile. She reached out and touched Irui, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. Hopefully, he would not shy away. The Superior Sacristan did not want to scare him. She saw potential in him, it was scattered but it was there. He wasn't much unlike Shimiko. There was a terrifying force within him that was just begging to be released.

Her words fell across his mind like a cool blanket; strangely comfortable, and capable of settling his racing mind through pinpoint dissection. She wrapped his thoughts, and held them tightly, denouncing everything he had been told without hesitation. Mora was confident, collected, and chose her words with surgical precision.

Spymaster, he did like the sound of that. The crones hand found his shoulder, and she leaned in close, hovering just along his ear. She gripped him softly, a reassuring gesture. At the back of the boy's mind, he felt a gnawing presence, something told him to indulge his curiosity. What would be the harm in hearing her speak? As her words slipped into his ears, thoughtz of his parents surfaced. What would they say if they saw him with a woman like Mora Mikiri? Would they tear him away? Scold him? Punish him for even conversing with the highest authority in the Church?

In his younger years, the Church had stood in stark contrast to the soft white architecture of the Hidden Cloud. A cathedral, all stone and metal with innumerable points; its whole design cleverly serrated. Twisting spires, and stained glass bedecked with images of red. To the children of the Hidden Cloud it had been regarded with great suspicion-- that if you strayed too close to its doors, Jashin would drag you in. It had become something of a game: touch the great doors of the cathedral without being seen, climb the exterior, steal a torch.

All his life he'd been told to ignore them, regard this Church with fear and suspicion.

"--They understand them. They master them. They use them for their own ends. It is true the Mikiri Clan has grown strong clinging to the ways of old, but take it from someone who knows. Every organization needs to evolve. Stagnation is destruction. Our learned kin grow comfortable with their position of power and respect. They lack vision. I only seek to impart some much-needed perspective to the young and old alike."

Irui glanced at her bony hand, at the black fabric clinging to her arm, then down to his left hand, at the Mark on his palm. He eyed the diamond pattern for a moment. "Its true," He said, studying the design. "I'm always told to think of the Clan first. This bloodline, the Dark Release, I'm told I have to hold onto it, keep it safe. I never asked for it, but my entire life has been bound by this... this.... Mark."

"I don't want to live my entire life confined to these walls, to this city, protecting something I that I don't even fully understand." He scowled, and curled his fingers, and met her eyes. "I want to see what else is out there. I followed you earlier, Mora-san, because there was finally something happening within the Quarter. If you don't mind me asking-- how did you handle the clan's rules, when you were my age?"

She had him. She had gotten him to question the sacredness of the Clan's law and once he began to question it, it was only a matter of time before he broke it. He confessed that he felt confined by the clan. He was forced to protect a secret of which he knew and understood little. There was much about the Mikiri that was shrouded in mystery and Mora was keen on using the Faith to uncover those mysteries. She nodded in understanding as he spoke and responded to his question gently:

"I left. I felt as though my abilities...my beleifs....my fate was being determined by lesser men with no imagination or spiritual compass. I left to join the Orthodox Church of Jashin and for decades I lived myself outside of the law. I glorified Jashin's holy name with my words and actions regardless of what anyone else said or thought. I discovered secrets and used them to protect those that I cared about. It was a hard life, sleeping in the mountains, living in sewers....we were constantly on the run in those days. The faith was persecuted relentlessly back then. Fortunately....its not so nowadays. Now one can operate outside the clan and discover the powerful secrets behind our kekkei genkai without forasking Kumo. In fact, you have the support and resources of an institution that is rapidly gaining power"

Mora smirked at the last part. It was clear from which institution she is referring to.

"Walk with me Irui" she commanded. The old crone began walking down the street with her hands behind her back. She needed a Mikiri who could help her unlock the higher mysteries of the bloodline limit. But such research and experimentation was barred by the Clan's leadership, if she wanted to get it done she'd need to forge relationships outside of their purview.

She had gotten him talking about his bloodline. It was an interesting revelation about his character. The boy was interested in what the Mikiri Clan could do. He wanted to actualize his full potential and Mora had a few ideas on how that could happen. He stopped talking and then suddenly stopped in his verbal tracks. He asked where they were going and Mora turned to him as though she were a bit surprised. As if he was making a mountain out of a molehill, she shrugged and gave a non-nonchalant smile.

"Nowhere in particular" she admitted. "Although....if you'd like to see the full splendor of St. Memori's Cathedral up close and personal...that can be arranged as well."

Mora continued walking, a lazy pace that suggested that she wasn't in a particular hurry to get anywhere. "Irui I think that there are two dimensions to our bloodline. The first....which you have barely begun to scratch...and a second....which lurks beneath the surface..."

Irui followed along, matching his pace with Mora's. There conversation had quieted, and for a while it seemed they had walked in silence, perhaps mutual contemplation.  Seeing the church up close, and from the inside was something he'd never before considered in his wildest daydreams; always it had been forbidden by the clan. Children would test their Ninja skills by creeping closer and closer to the Church, and try to touch its door. But to go inside? Oh, his mother would have his head on a spike before dinner.

He'd hardly noticed the time pass (Apparently fifteen days beyond the fourth wall, oops) when Mora spoke again, about how the bloodline possessed two sides. He blinked in confusion, and looked at the mark again before stuffing it into his pocket. "Come again?" He blurted.

There were stories, here and there, of the Shinobi clans secreting information away from the general public, even more so from their offspring. To some it was a writ of passage, and a sign of adulthood. Others sealed it out of necessity, to prevent the most dangerous techniques and genetic abilities from stumbling into the wrong hands. This was the first Irui heard of the Mikiri Clan possessing secrets, and to be truthful, it made him almost giddy.

"Mora, " He said after a moment, "I understand the Clan wouldn't be pleased, but I would like to learn from you-- an elder who has lived outside of the clan's boundaries." He ventured, and spied the towers of the cathedral rising over the skyline. "I want to learn all that I can about the clan, about this bloodline--" He swallowed, and skipped ahead to face her.

"I-- I am tired of being told I'm not old enough to know things, living my life behind the Hidden Cloud's walls," He gestured at a random building, "this city is all I know."

She had him. He had made his curiosity known but now he had offered himself up to her. A young, talented and precocious Mikiri that could help shape the direction of one of Kumogakure's most powerful clans. Mora nodded when he said "Come again" instead allowing his own mind to fill in the details. When he expressed a desire to learn from her, she turned to face him. He was through being "protected" from the truth. He wanted to grow and with growth came risks. Mora nodded her head in understanding and smiled warmly.

"And learn you shall. That is my duty, Irui. To teach. If you have patience, fortitude, and above all else...faith. You will discover secrets about your bloodline that most could only dream of."

Mora looked behind Irui and saw that they had come quite a long way. She was now at the edge of the compound and she knew that perhaps it would be better if they part ways here. Now that she knew he was interested in more advanced lessons they could take their time meeting and discussing next steps.

"I will send a representative to speak with you and arrange a private meeting for us at the Church. I think at this stage of our relationship its best that we be discreet. The Mikiri Elders and your parents may not take kindly to me teaching you so we will need to be careful. When we meet again at the Church, I'll go into greater detail about the two levels of our bloodline and how you can master each one."

Mora looked up at the compound's walls. She scaled the structure with minimal effort until she reached the top. The Church leader clasped both hands behind her back and flashed the young man a confident grin. "Until we meet again Spymaster..."

She then jumped down the other side and went about her merry way. Confident that she had just won another convert for the Church.

"--This city is all I know!" Irui's words leapt from his throat in protest before he could stop them, and he clenched his teeth, grinding them as his outburst brought stares. This feeling inside him, it was yearning to break free, and he turned to look at Mora with a sense of dread; that he'd overstepped, been too eager in his request.

"And learn you shall." Mora's words came like a rush of cool water, soothing and clear. "That is my duty, Irui. To teach. If you have patience, fortitude, and above all else, faith. You will discover secrets about your bloodline that most could only dream of."

Faith. She was right, he had to have faith that all would work out, and that everything would be fine. Before long the two of them had reached the edge of the Mikiri Clan's compound, its sprawling, twisting domain of shops, houses, and offices suddenly met with a dividing wall of carved granite. Over the ledge, the terraces and platforms of the Hidden Cloud's mountain-top village seemed suspended on the morning clouds, and a crisp, icy wind greeted them. Irui closed his eyes, letting the rosey dawn light reach him.

The pair stood side by side, greeting the sun, and silently seemed to realize just how far their conversation had taken them. Irui gently turned his attention to the elder as she spoke, and smiled lightly.

"I will send a representative to speak with you and arrange a private meeting for us at the Church. I think at this stage of our relationship its best that we be discreet. The Mikiri Elders and your parents may not take kindly to me teaching you so we will need to be careful. When we meet again at the Church, I'll go into greater detail about the two levels of our bloodline and how you can master each one."

Wryly, as if to prove the old crone still "had it", she deftly flitted to the wall's precipice with hands clasped behind her. Irui could only look up, and smirk at the feat, and silently nodded in acknowledgement.

Spymaster. I like that title. He thought, watching the woman take flight into the Hidden Cloud, tracking her until her clothes melded with the morning shadows, and Mora Mikiri vanished into the cityscape. He turned on his heel, and began a meandering walk back towards the interior of the compound, his mind awash with a myriad of thoughts.

As she slipped through the whitestoned walls of the compound, his eyes passed over shop and home, bedecked with Mikiri and HIdden Cloud imagery; colorful murals of the mountains, rich fabrics, and textiles. The clan was relatively new, compared to the others of the Hidden Cloud; much of its history was steeped in rumor, and tall-tales, and had yet to find its identity. Unlike the noble House of Storm Release, that predated the village, the Mikiri still dabbled and revised their traditions, trying to find a common theme to unite themselves. It was murky, unclear, and against other customs of the village, it blended all too well.

"Morning, Irui-san!" A woman called out, and he waved back with a smile.

His path took him up and through a winding stair to another street and then slipped down another side alley, choosing to greet the morning light as it crept through the compound, bathing him in warmth. He wanted to walk and think, to be alone with his thoughts.

Secrets of the bloodline, Mora had told him. What secrets could she possibly be referring to, he wondered. He looked at the mark on his left palm. Two diamond markings overlapped one another, with such precise shaping it was impossible to mistake as a birthmark. Some of the Mikiri had it on their right palm, others had none, but the story was always the same: "When your older," children were told.

--That is my duty, Irui. To teach.

Irui rounded the corner, and came to an open terrace. The wind played across the cobblestones as he approached and came to stand at the overlook. His eyes zeroed in on the piercing towers of the distant Cathedral of St. Memori.

Mora was willing to teach, to educate, to share things the others were afraid of-- to share with him the secrets of a bloodline that had been locked away from prying eyes. She would be the one to give him knowledge, strength, and above all: A future. Mora Mikiri, the Outcast would be the one to clear the waters of the Mikiri's secrecy, she would give him purpose, a calling. Here, all he had to do, was simply ask for the key to his cage, to show yearning, desire. Without hesitation, she procured a golden key, and placed it in the lock. Where as others had long since dangled it far away, like a carrot on a string-- And for what? For the "preservation of the clan"? To protect one another, and for the sake of the Hidden Cloud?

Irui's eyes snapped open, the wind whipping about him.

"Thank you, Mora-sama."

[exit]