you're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
all that's left is a ghost of you
※Muramasa Uemon "Nope, not anymore," the woman answered. Or, at least, so was her story.
"No different than a civilian, as it were." She didn't think she was old enough nor had any of the qualifications to technically be a retired shinobi, so she was just... a dropout. Not some legend or hero who did anything great to serve her nation before she was no longer suited for the job and had to step back, she just... quit one day. As far as anyone knew.
And it would be a fair enough thing to say.
Nobody was forced into the job--despite any social acceptance and praise there might have been around the occupation. In a hidden village, it was commonplace for someone to be a shinobi--but during these times, nobody was exactly forced into it.
And while Muramasa had not lived here his whole life, and he had not known Mikazuki up until this day, there were other who knew.
She'd always been distant. A recluse. None of that was new--but it wasn't like she lived solely in the shadows, back in those days. She'd been a genin, she could be found in the training grounds often enough when she wasn't training directly under Red or Azami. When she was assigned to a genin squad, then she'd interacted enough times with her sensei and teammates at the time. Going on missions, helping around the village, interacting with academy students and the like. Then, there were the times she'd attended the Chūnin Exams. And even if she hadn't been hidden from the public eye--she'd always had a
way. Her mannerisms, her appearance, her personality--it had always been consistent through the years.
Until one day, when everything changed.
It would have been easy to think she snapped.
Dark circles under her eyes; restless. Haunted. She'd been lost, her convictions uncertain. Weary.
Something had happened, and a year later she resigned. She rarely showed her face around the village, anymore. Not to train, not for anything. She'd all but disappeared.
Really, the chances that she'd have met Muramasa as herself was... slim.
It was incredible, actually.
"Good, good," Mikazuki returned with a smirk when Muramasa spoke on the child's behalf. Kota wasn't the first child who was frightened by her reputation, and he likely wouldn't be the last. She had a bad track record of scaring children--even if she didn't necessarily try to. So, when she wanted to be intimidating, it usually came with ease.
"He'd be smart to stay weary." Even if she didn't have any intention to do them harm, it was always good to stay on one's toes. Especially when in a new environment, around strangers. They
could trust her, but that didn't mean they should.
Even if she didn't do anything to harm them, she was undeniably dangerous.
And she would not scold them for being cautious.
If anything, the opposite was true.
When Muramasa answered her question, she found herself only more curious by his statements. So, he had some training in swordfighting. By the sound of it, he was no master of the trade--likely only knew a few tricks taught to him by the samurai he mentioned... but it was curious. He wasn't trained up to be a samurai--not brought up in a dojo, or taught by his parents, by the sound of it. Patrons, instead, taught him the skills. And from his tone, it hardly sounded like there was fond association with it.
Interesting.
No, he certainly wasn't a warrior of the blade.
That could be told almost immediately by his demeanor and disposition toward the subject.
"What about smithing, then? Do you enjoy that?" Normally, she didn't care about things like this. In fact, she'd only initially asked to get him off of her back and to stop pestering her with all of his own questions. Really, peoples' pasts and interests were of no concern or curiosity of her own. She didn't care about peoples' hobbies, their lovers, their families, or their favorite season. In formal or professional settings, those pieces of information weren't relevant--so there was no reason to inquire. And even if she wasn't publicly a shinobi, anymore, it was difficult for her to hide her old habits--interrogation always had an ulterior motive.
What were his intentions inside of the village? Was the boy he traveled with truly safe under his care? Was there something suspicious transpiring that she needed to intervene? Could he aid Amegakure by offering his services? What were his skills? Did he have any conviction--did he truly know what he was getting himself into?
Everything was, even if seemingly unapparent, professional. Even when she'd been digging at his history and background--it was hardly out of any
personal interest. She didn't care about his tragic backstory, or whatever the misfortunate history of the boy had been, either. She didn't care what their goals were outside of their business in Amegakure, either.
She'd not even asked their names.
And that was her way--something she had difficulty changing even when she wasn't on a job or mission. She could act, and pretend, and put on a performance--but when she was being her genuine, authentic self... she had grown to accept that she could not change who she really was. Even if it was an impersonal robot who only cared about missions or something like that.
But this was... different. A rare moment, really. Nothing significant, nothing really important. But curious, nonetheless.
If he wasn't a swordsman... then... at heart--what was he?
He made a question, himself. One that Mikazuki did not necessarily
mind answering... though one she wasn't entirely certain on how to answer, either. She could understand him, in a way--she hadn't been prone to fighting, either. When she had been a genin, she'd always been slow to a fight and quick to execution--ending battles before they could begin, or not starting them at all. She hadn't the skills or strength to really last in a long-winded fight, especially not when she was at such a disadvantage opposed to most of the other shinobi in her rank. So, it was better to strike quickly, or to avoid fighting altogether.
Something that had been challenged as she'd gotten stronger.
But she wasn't necessarily opposed to violence, she supposed. It didn't leave a sinking feeling in her gut. She felt no real remorse or sorrow for her actions, and neither did she particularly fear for her life.
If anything, she'd craved death more than anything.
There was no fear. No anxiety. But no joy or pleasure, either. It was simply... a profession. One that she took seriously--and strategized to best assist her village, in hopes that her efforts would pay off and less lives and bloodshed had to be spent. But that cost was still a reality, and she couldn't have a broken heart over every cruelty she faced. It was the way of this world. She had grown to accept it, even if she did not love it.
Even if she did try to change it.
But where did that leave her? She wasn't afraid of a fight. In truth, something had changed in her--and she was far more prone to violence than she'd ever been, before. But did she...
enjoy it?
She didn't think so. That still hadn't seemed to change, yet...
Perhaps... I enjoy seeing the change. I suppose I feel... empowered. Confident. Capable. Something I'd never felt, before. Being challenged, or posed with opportunities to test myself... I think that's all it is. That's what I enjoy. She frowned, slightly.
If all I live for is to be a weapon, then I suppose it would make sense I only feel my existence is justified in the battlefield. "I don't know," she answered truthfully after some thought.
"You and I come from different worlds. Fighting is all I've ever known." Whether fighting for her first breaths, fighting to be loved or accepted by her mother... knowing the only way she'd justify her existence in her parents' eyes was if she could become a ninja--and fighting tooth and nail to accomplish the impossible. Failing every time. Her father dying in combat. Her brother being killed on a mission. Then, when Red and Azami took her in and started her training... that had been nothing but fighting, too. Learning of all the horrors of the world, being trained to handle extreme circumstances...
Then, she was a genin.
Then a jinchūriki.
Then a Chūnin.
She had to fight in the exams in Amegakure. In Kaze no Kuni. On the border between Arashi no Kuni and Hi no Kuni. Fighting on missions. Friends suffering through war or the victims of murder.
Violence. Death. Suffering. Pain. War. Fighting.
It was all she knew. All she had ever known, likely all she ever would know.
"So, I suppose you grow comfortable in something so familiar." Not fond. But not frightened, either. It was the only way she knew how to put it. As for what she did now?
"Nothing." Mikazuki shrugged.
"In truth, I wasn't good at anything. I knew how to wave a sword around a little, but... so what." Sanosuke had a unique and powerful weapon, even when they were genin. Because he
specialized in bukijutsu.
"I was trained to be a martyr. I didn't have any talent for anything else." Couldn't even do that. The young woman stopped when the house was back within their line of sight. She stretched her arms, slightly, sighing a bit.
"Now, I'm just a ghost. I exist. That's about it."