Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Strands ❯ Holding the Universe ( Chapter 1 )
[ A - All Readers ]
By: seoinage 
One learns how to hold the universe.
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.15.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 897 | Status: Work In Progress
One learns how to hold the universe.
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.15.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 897 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
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The old man had not always been old, but he had always been dedicated to his skill. Well, maybe not always if one counted the first six years of his life spent trying to play instead of learning his family's legacy. Then one day the old man's father got him to sit still for a moment and proceeded to show an art form so beautiful, it transfixed the young boy to his seat.
Looking on in wonder, the six year old watched as skillful hands, rough in their years of wear, moved in the air as they wove and pulled, wrists turning just so to get the right amount of tension. Strands formed between those blunt-tipped fingers like magic. With each pass, more appeared, each thinner and more beautiful than the previous.
No sunlight streamed in, blocked by the closed front sliding door. Even so, those magical threads seemed to glow with a hazy yellow and white light. The infinite possibility of the universe captured in the crisscrossing strands held adeptly between two human hands. Biceps accustomed to holding such a burden bunched in concentration even as the universe expanded under the watchful gaze of the master.
All the while the gentle hiss of steam sung in accompaniment around them, no intrusion breaking this moment. The boy continued staring as his scrapped elbows leaned upon the wood counter, cradling chin in hands dirty with play. Those same hands that his father wanted to teach to hold the universe in. I want to learn how to do that.
“Did you see how I did that?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Shall I teach you how as well?”
“Please, Father. I want to learn.”
The father glanced down at his young son and knew that in the future, their legacy will continue on. Though serious, his gravelly voice held a hint of a smile. “It won't be easy and will take many years. There will be much to learn, not just this one aspect.”
Straightening up from his semi-crouch over the countertop, the son looked into a similar pair of brown eyes. Mustering youthful resolution, he solemnly replied, “I understand, Father.”
“Then go wash up and come back. We will start your training immediately.”
So the boy ran off to clean up and came back as he was told, following orders easily and quickly for once. Heart pounding in excitement, he raced back to where his father stood waiting with a white package gripped firmly in one strong hand.
“What's that, Father?”
“What's this?” He hefted the package easily. “This is yours after you've finished for today. But that will depend on how well you do.”
Boyish eyes widened. “Then I'll do really well today!”
An amused snort escaped and a smirk appeared on the older man's face. “We'll see about that.”
Training began for the boy under the instruction of his father then, the first day ending in many failures and frustration. Tried though the youngster did, the universe didn't appear between his hands in those beautiful strands like they had for his father. Instead, the universe sat heavy and blob-like, not moving much at all. For all the brash words spoken, only failure emerged. Tears quivered in the corners of brown eyes normally still outside in play with friends. Chapped and tired hands quivered; their fingers still chubby with childhood. I can't do it!
A warm weight settling on top of his head disrupted his pitiful thoughts as his father came to stand beside him. Sniffling quickly to keep his tears at bay, the boy felt small comfort and much embarrassment under his father's hand.
“I failed.”
“Ah.”
The boy's head dropped forward a little, but his father's hand never left him.
“Didn't I tell you it would be difficult?”
“Y…yes…”
“ ;And do you still want to learn?”
Slowly the child tilted his head up till he could see the face of the man beside him, mind full of the failures and disappointments of the day. Until he also remembered the magical sight shown earlier and the reply of “I want to learn.”
Though only a lad of six years, he knew; and so once again repeated, in a clear voice, “I want to learn.”
The hand on top of his head lifted and resettled in a strong grip on a small shoulder to steer the boy to stand in front of his father, who had knelt down till the two were on the same eye level. Mature brown eyes met childlike brown eyes.
“This is for you.” In the older man's other hand, the white package tied with twine resided. He offered it to his son who took it in amazement.
“We start training again tomorrow.”
“Ah!”
So they trained the next day, and the day after that till time flowed together as the child grew not only in age, but also in his learning of how to wield the universe. Not that he neglected his friends horribly, but the ever maturing youth trained even more as time passed. Each step mastered earned a hearty slap of congratulations upon the back. Each growth spurt earned another package tied with twine.
Then the final day of testing came to try the teenager whose days were filled with both dedication to his art and the mischief of his young years. Anticipation and nervousness gleamed behind piercing brown eyes as he completed the last of the preparations before stepping upon the field of battle.
“It's time for you to go out there.” His father prompted.
The son replied by stepping up to his father. Facing the teacher who had guided his way all these years, the student straightened his posture then bowed low in respect. “Thank you, Father. I hope to make you proud.”
Emotions gleamed and rolled into one phrase. “Then I'll leave it in your hands.”
“Ah!”
Standing up and turning around, the youth strode into the other room, steps sure and steady. Only on the inside a different story played out. The judge presiding over this final test was already present and in position, a solemn look gracing that one's face.
Taking position to start the test, the uniformed teen swallowed the lump in his throat as he bowed to the evaluator. “Please consider me today.”
Nodding back slightly, the judge took in the nervous energy silently, mentally cataloguing all the visible preparations made while wondering about those he could not see. “Please start.”
At those words, action began to flow, familiarity flooding as the forming of the universe began. Hands molded and twisted the shape until it could be held aloft, the blob gently yet firmly asked to reveal its true form. Between the strong fingers, strands appeared at the will of its master, becoming ever finer to give off a yellowish-white glow.
Transitioning into the second phase turned the strands from glowing to glistening, concentration furrowing the forehead of the test taker. It took precision and knowledge to take it to its final stage, and that was the goal here. Inside his head a mental timer clicked and he knew he had it. Practiced movements finished up and he presented his final work to a pair of critical eyes trained on him.
“Please.”
The judge finally moved, hands lifting up to take a testing position. A small wooden snap could be heard as something broke apart. The evaluator dug in to pick the work apart.
Anxiety, worry, anticipation and all sorts of feelings gripped the one watching as his effort underwent review. Silence…silence was not good, right?
Then came a long and loud slurping noise followed by the thudding of a heavy object onto a wood surface.
“You…” the judge started to say.
“I…?” the youth asked, not able to hold it in.
“You pass.” This said in satisfaction.
“I…I passed? I did? I really passed?! Yes!” Whipping off the white hat worn during the test, the new master whooped and danced a little in his joy, still a teen for all his skill.
Walking over from his corner, the father bowed to the judge, who stood up after giving his verdict. “Thank you for overseeing this.”
Taking up his wide-brimmed hat and placed it back on his head, the judge smiled. “It was an honor as this does not happen often. I hope to be able to do this again when the next turn comes in his lifetime.”
The father turned to look over at his son in pride. “I hope that you will do us that honor when time comes for a new master of Ichiraku to be recognized, Hokage-sama.”
Sarutobi nodded as he made to leave the ramen shop, stopping at the exit to address the two males behind him. “Please keep up the good work in our village. People need a place like this to come to not just for food, but for other reasons as well.”
With those words lingering, the Third left. What the Hokage did not know was how those words would affect the newest master of Ichiraku and future visitors gracing the seats in front of the wood counter.
Let us hold the universe together with these strands of yellow.
------------------------------- -------------
I know. I've been told before. I'm strange.
R&R's still appreciated. :)
---------------------------------------
The old man had not always been old, but he had always been dedicated to his skill. Well, maybe not always if one counted the first six years of his life spent trying to play instead of learning his family's legacy. Then one day the old man's father got him to sit still for a moment and proceeded to show an art form so beautiful, it transfixed the young boy to his seat.
Looking on in wonder, the six year old watched as skillful hands, rough in their years of wear, moved in the air as they wove and pulled, wrists turning just so to get the right amount of tension. Strands formed between those blunt-tipped fingers like magic. With each pass, more appeared, each thinner and more beautiful than the previous.
No sunlight streamed in, blocked by the closed front sliding door. Even so, those magical threads seemed to glow with a hazy yellow and white light. The infinite possibility of the universe captured in the crisscrossing strands held adeptly between two human hands. Biceps accustomed to holding such a burden bunched in concentration even as the universe expanded under the watchful gaze of the master.
All the while the gentle hiss of steam sung in accompaniment around them, no intrusion breaking this moment. The boy continued staring as his scrapped elbows leaned upon the wood counter, cradling chin in hands dirty with play. Those same hands that his father wanted to teach to hold the universe in. I want to learn how to do that.
“Did you see how I did that?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Shall I teach you how as well?”
“Please, Father. I want to learn.”
The father glanced down at his young son and knew that in the future, their legacy will continue on. Though serious, his gravelly voice held a hint of a smile. “It won't be easy and will take many years. There will be much to learn, not just this one aspect.”
Straightening up from his semi-crouch over the countertop, the son looked into a similar pair of brown eyes. Mustering youthful resolution, he solemnly replied, “I understand, Father.”
“Then go wash up and come back. We will start your training immediately.”
So the boy ran off to clean up and came back as he was told, following orders easily and quickly for once. Heart pounding in excitement, he raced back to where his father stood waiting with a white package gripped firmly in one strong hand.
“What's that, Father?”
“What's this?” He hefted the package easily. “This is yours after you've finished for today. But that will depend on how well you do.”
Boyish eyes widened. “Then I'll do really well today!”
An amused snort escaped and a smirk appeared on the older man's face. “We'll see about that.”
Training began for the boy under the instruction of his father then, the first day ending in many failures and frustration. Tried though the youngster did, the universe didn't appear between his hands in those beautiful strands like they had for his father. Instead, the universe sat heavy and blob-like, not moving much at all. For all the brash words spoken, only failure emerged. Tears quivered in the corners of brown eyes normally still outside in play with friends. Chapped and tired hands quivered; their fingers still chubby with childhood. I can't do it!
A warm weight settling on top of his head disrupted his pitiful thoughts as his father came to stand beside him. Sniffling quickly to keep his tears at bay, the boy felt small comfort and much embarrassment under his father's hand.
“I failed.”
“Ah.”
The boy's head dropped forward a little, but his father's hand never left him.
“Didn't I tell you it would be difficult?”
“Y…yes…”
“ ;And do you still want to learn?”
Slowly the child tilted his head up till he could see the face of the man beside him, mind full of the failures and disappointments of the day. Until he also remembered the magical sight shown earlier and the reply of “I want to learn.”
Though only a lad of six years, he knew; and so once again repeated, in a clear voice, “I want to learn.”
The hand on top of his head lifted and resettled in a strong grip on a small shoulder to steer the boy to stand in front of his father, who had knelt down till the two were on the same eye level. Mature brown eyes met childlike brown eyes.
“This is for you.” In the older man's other hand, the white package tied with twine resided. He offered it to his son who took it in amazement.
“We start training again tomorrow.”
“Ah!”
So they trained the next day, and the day after that till time flowed together as the child grew not only in age, but also in his learning of how to wield the universe. Not that he neglected his friends horribly, but the ever maturing youth trained even more as time passed. Each step mastered earned a hearty slap of congratulations upon the back. Each growth spurt earned another package tied with twine.
Then the final day of testing came to try the teenager whose days were filled with both dedication to his art and the mischief of his young years. Anticipation and nervousness gleamed behind piercing brown eyes as he completed the last of the preparations before stepping upon the field of battle.
“It's time for you to go out there.” His father prompted.
The son replied by stepping up to his father. Facing the teacher who had guided his way all these years, the student straightened his posture then bowed low in respect. “Thank you, Father. I hope to make you proud.”
Emotions gleamed and rolled into one phrase. “Then I'll leave it in your hands.”
“Ah!”
Standing up and turning around, the youth strode into the other room, steps sure and steady. Only on the inside a different story played out. The judge presiding over this final test was already present and in position, a solemn look gracing that one's face.
Taking position to start the test, the uniformed teen swallowed the lump in his throat as he bowed to the evaluator. “Please consider me today.”
Nodding back slightly, the judge took in the nervous energy silently, mentally cataloguing all the visible preparations made while wondering about those he could not see. “Please start.”
At those words, action began to flow, familiarity flooding as the forming of the universe began. Hands molded and twisted the shape until it could be held aloft, the blob gently yet firmly asked to reveal its true form. Between the strong fingers, strands appeared at the will of its master, becoming ever finer to give off a yellowish-white glow.
Transitioning into the second phase turned the strands from glowing to glistening, concentration furrowing the forehead of the test taker. It took precision and knowledge to take it to its final stage, and that was the goal here. Inside his head a mental timer clicked and he knew he had it. Practiced movements finished up and he presented his final work to a pair of critical eyes trained on him.
“Please.”
The judge finally moved, hands lifting up to take a testing position. A small wooden snap could be heard as something broke apart. The evaluator dug in to pick the work apart.
Anxiety, worry, anticipation and all sorts of feelings gripped the one watching as his effort underwent review. Silence…silence was not good, right?
Then came a long and loud slurping noise followed by the thudding of a heavy object onto a wood surface.
“You…” the judge started to say.
“I…?” the youth asked, not able to hold it in.
“You pass.” This said in satisfaction.
“I…I passed? I did? I really passed?! Yes!” Whipping off the white hat worn during the test, the new master whooped and danced a little in his joy, still a teen for all his skill.
Walking over from his corner, the father bowed to the judge, who stood up after giving his verdict. “Thank you for overseeing this.”
Taking up his wide-brimmed hat and placed it back on his head, the judge smiled. “It was an honor as this does not happen often. I hope to be able to do this again when the next turn comes in his lifetime.”
The father turned to look over at his son in pride. “I hope that you will do us that honor when time comes for a new master of Ichiraku to be recognized, Hokage-sama.”
Sarutobi nodded as he made to leave the ramen shop, stopping at the exit to address the two males behind him. “Please keep up the good work in our village. People need a place like this to come to not just for food, but for other reasons as well.”
With those words lingering, the Third left. What the Hokage did not know was how those words would affect the newest master of Ichiraku and future visitors gracing the seats in front of the wood counter.
Let us hold the universe together with these strands of yellow.
------------------------------- -------------
I know. I've been told before. I'm strange.
R&R's still appreciated. :)