I'm not sure exactly why the decision was made to put it into me. Well, I know why it was done, just not why I was the one who was chosen. Perhaps we were the only young children at the time, but it could have just as easily been my sister. I don't know for certain if I'd rather it had been her or not. Sometimes it's a blessing, sometimes it's a curse. But either way, it's always there. It always has been, ever since that day. It was so long ago I can't even remember it. I wasn't even five months old when it was sealed inside of me. I wasn't ever really even given a choice. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that. Honored? Angry? Sad? For a while, it was like having two souls, two voices, one constantly at war with the other. Yet now, I can't tell the Other apart from me. Or if there's even any difference anymore. It's separate from me, yet it's also a part of me. I can feel it's chakra just as surely as I can feel my own. The Three-Tailed Chakra Demon will always be a part of me, for better, or worse.
Rurano and Rikako are my parent's names, and from all accounts my mother hated carrying us inside of her. As a Taijutsuist, I think it really irritated the hell out of her that she couldn't move around as swiftly, and eventually couldn't even go out on assignments after a while. But after we were born, Ruri and me, and the demon was sealed inside of me, they did their best to keep us away from the fighting, away from danger. Ruri was of course shielded by our parents, but it wasn't just our parents who protected me. There were others. As I got older, I noticed that those who put themselves between harm and myself looked at me differently than they looked at others. I wouldn't call it concern, not really. It felt more like they were watching me, almost like I was a valuable object that might try to run away, or get stolen. I was six when I first heard my parents arguing with older shinobi about 'training'. I don't think my sister liked the special attention that was thrust on me, even our parents looked at me kind of differently. I myself didn't quite know how to deal with it, what was expected of me, or what the strange seal around my navel was. Eventually I found out when they took me away.
I was eight at the time, when my parents turned me over to strangers. I couldn't understand why they would do it, why they would get rid of me and keep Ruri. The Jounin I was turned over to were patient in explaining it to me, though I needed to hear it again and again. It was difficult, understanding that this was a choice that had been made for me before birth, that this was what I was going to be forced to do, to live apart from my family until I was old enough to live on my own. It didn't seem fair, and at first I was angry and uncooperative. My Jounin instructors subdued me several times, by force, and as the days slowly crept by, the reality of the situation began to sink in, even into the thick skull of a child. But over the years, I was forced to shoulder the burden that had been placed on me, honed to be a weapon for the clan, my life never to be my own. They took away my family, and trained me, some days until I collapsed. They were never cruel to me, but they were never kind, either. I almost would have preferred cruelty, /some/ emotion, other than the cold, calculated way I was raised. And the expectations were so high. Sometimes they would take me somewhere alone, and force me to call on the Other, the demon, telling me I had to learn to control it. They were always tense during these times, looking at me with cold clarity, as if waiting for me to fail, expecting something… unimaginable.
I would see my sister often during training, and sometimes we would do so together. I cherished those moments. Sometimes I would see my parents, but they were never allowed to train me. I never spoke to them, rarely even looked in their direction. They were the ones who'd given me up, even before I was out of the womb.
When my training was complete, I was thrust into the world as a full shinobi, albeit one of the lowest order. Many genin died during missions, even though they were given those of the lowest priority and danger, scouting, skirmishes, never major battles if it could be helped. Even so, it was a harsh, unforgiving time that allowed for no weakness, no mistakes, and a misstep could often be fatal. Children, adults, men, women, it didn't matter. The world of the shinobi was a cruel place, and for a child, barely twelve, it was frightening. I was always given extra protection, an older, more experienced ninja to watch over me. Always guarded, but never coddled. After a year of surviving the harshness and blood of the constant warfare, I was rewarded, though not in exactly in the way I would have wanted. Shinobi do not receive gifts for a job well done, they are given more responsibility, harder tasks, more dangerous assignments. It was… not a time I like to talk about.
And then it was over.
It was like coming out of a nightmare, the tentative peace that was negotiated between surviving shinobi factions. The horror still fresh in our minds, the fear of slipping back into the chaos, the desperate hope that it could be staved off. Our clan entered into an uneasy alliance with others, and eventually came to settle in the inhospitable Land of Wind, founding a village in the harshest place within that country, the Village Hidden in the Sand. It's a bleak landscape, but it fosters survival instincts, seclusion, and defensibility. We banded together, not out of loyalty, or friendship, but out of necessity to survive, for safety in numbers. Many were not happy with the situation, as old wounds are slow to heal, and only the new Kazekage's force of will was able to keep the peace.
Vigilance was as strict within the village as it was without, with most of the clans jealously guarding themselves from the others. But my training only increased. Now, without as many duties to attend to, shared amongst the greater numbers of the Village, it began in earnest. I trained in seclusion within the Village more often than not now, learning to harness the power of the Tailed Beast within me, harmonizing with it, learning to control it's vast energies. I learned to channel the beast's chakra into focus, to call upon it at need. It was difficult at first, extremely so. I had to first learn to deplete my own stores, so that there would be nothing but the Three Tails to rely on. As time passed, years crawled by, and I no longer needed to go to such extreme measures. I learned to bring out the Tailed Beast more fully, to use it to augment my own physical form, to allow it to take partial control of my body. And always, was I watched by my elders.
I'm seventeen now, and the Village has managed to not tear itself apart for three years. Tensions between clans still run high, and I'm still kept on a tight leash by the leaders of our newfound alliance. I'm watched often, but never coddled. I've barely spoken to my parents since I was forced away from them, and that rift seems to show very slim hope of ever healing. But Ruri, she's as close to me as any ever could be. As the saying goes 'Your sister is your sister, and your twin is more than that.' The heat gets to me at times. I don't like it, at all, and the sand gets everywhere. A hot, arid home is a small price to pay for an uneasy peace, but I still manage to complain about it. I still have training from the Jounin, learning to 'master' the Three Tails within me completely. I still have missions to complete. Occasionally I stop by the new Academy so recently finished a few years ago and spend time with the students. It's nice to see children that have had a normal childhood. I envy them, in more ways than one. I can only hope by the time they grow up and take our place, the enmity between the various clans will finally pass once my generation moves on.
Sunagakure
