[Miyamoto Ikana]

After some period of time, some years spent as a middling merchant and vendor peddler, she'd learned a few tips here and there and tricks of the trade. It was always good to stay connected, and even better still to have options open. Ikana wasn't inherently powerful, notable (as far as she knew), or influential. She lived very quietly for most of her life. However, in recent times, she had begun buying notable amounts of equipment. Weapons namely. Swords, throwing stars, kunai knives, and other basic essentials. As some might know, she has her own means of producing explosive tags and storage scrolls. Useful equipment. 

However, the concerning nature more so might be that she had been buying these supplies in somewhat large bulk. At least, more than what any one girl would need. She'd been stockpiling weapons; and with the permission of her sensei Sora, she'd taken the liberty to even loot from the remains of criminals, pirates in particular. Blades and spears mostly, or other weapons. For she had finally found something to potentially aspire to. To create something brand new. In recent times, she had decided that she ought to aspire for something bigger, or at least try. Her plans would come into action when she was Chunin. What was it Ikana intended to do?

To reach out to the orphans of Kirigakure and take them under her wing. The downtrodden and poor. The undesireables. Those much like her, that had grown within the most terrible of positions within the village. She would mold them, and see to it that they would become fine Shinobi or Kunoichi in their own right. Ikana sought to make a family for herself, daresay a clan. One where they may not be related by blood, but instead rallied by ties and bonds. Where they might pool themselves together to become greater than they were. In the eyes of clans already established with noble heritage and pedigree, they might call this group she envisioned to be nothing more than upstarts, pretenders, if not even a shoddy gathering of militia.

However, to Ikana?...This sounded like a dream worth pursuing. A girl who came from nothing, attempting to forge something. Something for herself. While Ikana was generally a cynical person, and someone who had little love or connection to the village thus far, she felt no need to do everything alone. So today, in the woodlands of the village, she called for Sora Minami. Someone who seemed to care. 

[Sora Minami]

Oh child, what are you doing? Sora thought as she looked over the small report that had made its way into her hands. It was an update on one of her Genin who, despite being officially under her watch, was still technically being watched for any hints of treasonous behavior due to her past mistakes. The paper detailed the recent purchasing habits of one Miyamoto Ikana, though only a few of the purchases were highlighted as suspicious. Weapon purchases, far more than a girl her age should need, and in multiple different kinds, had been noted and measured against the moderate business the girl had built for herself selling such things to other Shinobi.

Discrepancy found. Bulk orders are several times larger than necessary. Subject is likely stockpiling weapons. Reason unknown. The report (a copy) had been passed to her from a former colleague in the Hunter-corps, one she’d asked to keep an eye out for any talk involving her Genin- but she’d never expected something like this. It was one thing to know Ikana was being watched; it was quite another to know that they’d found something worth watching.

So it was that, when she received a note from Ikana asking her to come to a nearby spot in the woods, Sora didn’t hesitate; the Jounin went right there, her face a mask of flat calm, Samidare at her side as always.

The Jounin arrived in a puff of white mist, her Shunshin depositing her about ten meters from Ikana- and immediately, if the girl was paying even the slightest bit of attention, she would know something was wrong. There was no smile on Sora’s face, no light in her eyes, just a cold, empty pit that stared down at her student with all the pent-up power of a storm... and then she spoke, hefting the paper for the girl to see. "You have ten seconds to explain what the fuck you’re planning to do with all those weapons Ikana."

Miyamoto Ikana

[Miyamoto Ikana]

When Ikana came, waiting for her, it was originally in good natured hope of something. Though upon seeing that face on Sora's face. She found herself looking upon it and those eyes with a lack of enthusiasm. As if what little light she had was just beginning to be snuffed out. Because Ikana put it together rather swiftly; and it pretty much confirmed what she knew already. She was being watched. What she knew also was that Sora was watching her just as much anyone. "That's why I came to you today." She proclaimed; before she kicks a small pebble with her right foot. "I have a project. One that I thought I could work with you on." She said; before seeming rather crestfallen.

"I wanted to train people. Make a difference. I'm preparing for a promotion to Chunin soon...And I was hoping to take orphans in. Teach them and make them worth something. Bring us together; and make things better for us." Ikana didn't take anything personally, and came to realize that the time she and Sora spent together was very short. Relatively so. That while she was Sora's student, it didn't exactly mean they were close, close. Or maybe she was misinterpreting everything. Deciding to be transparent, she decided to be deadset honest. Though, she didn't really speak all of the specific and intricate details, she figured to give her thought. 

"I know you have a really big house. So...I was hoping that if you're going to be on missions or busy anyways. Maybe we could have some people live there, and when they become Shinobi, pay you rent. Or if I could get you in on the idea, that you could help train people with me." 

[Sora Minami]

Sora took a breath, then another, her sky-blue gaze focused on Ikana’s face as she spoke, her eyes like empty husks of charcoal, dead from overuse. She knew, almost instantly, that she’d made a mistake in how she’d approached the girl; she had worked so hard to earn her trust, to make sure she knew she was cared for, that someone saw her… and with one harsh sentence, that could all be destroyed. Gone, with just a few angry words said before she could think about what they might do, how they might hurt.

"Ikana…" The woman said, sighing as she wiped her face, trying to reign in her emotions long enough to get out a coherent sentence. "I’m sorry. You… I shouldn’t have reacted that way." She understood where the girl was coming from, could see the steps she’d taken to get to the idea- but like so many things in life, Ikana’s good intentions had unexpected consequences. Serious, dangerous consequences.

"You… I love you for this idea, Ikana." Sora said, smiling down at the girl as she put her hand on her shoulder, kneeling so she could look the girl in the eyes. "Really. It’s wonderful. But please, think about how this looks. You’re still being watched, and they know you have these weapons. If you want to do this, you have to be careful. Above board with everything, about everything.”

Because if she made a wrong move… Toru wouldn’t simply hold her back with a year in the Navy. He’ll cut your head off, Ikana.

Miyamoto Ikana

[Miyamoto Ikana]

When digesting everything, there was honestly a somewhat conflicted feeling in Ikana. Though, when the words came? She proceeded to take that feeling, and she nodded her head. She let it go. She found herself closing her eyes, her lips curling upwards into a smile, as she rubbed the back of her head. And she gave a small laugh. "No. It's alright. Ahahaha! I should have known better." Before taking the liberty to feel the hand along her shoulder. To hear the sound of Sora kneeling in the grass. Before being warned of what it looked like. How it could be taken. Before she says three simple words then.

"I'll give up." Those three words were really simple, but also complicated. She took the liberty to bottle those feelings, and she found herself thinking about it. "I've paid my dues. I've done my time. And I always knew they were watching." Taking a deep breath, she slowly shakes her head. Before taking the liberty to slide her headband off the top of her forehead. To slowly and neatly fold the fabric, and put it into her jacket pocket. She realized that at the end of the day, she was untrustworthy. That was why they looked at her. That was why they monitored her. They thought the worst.

It was why they took everything from her, and left her for dead. She realized they kept an eye on her now because she was a liability and potential burden. While Ikana seemed calm and collected on the surface, internally, she felt a very familiar feeling take root in her. She didn't want to open her eyes right now. Instead, she felt this sinking feeling. She slowly stepped backwards, as to leave that hold. Before bowing her head low in acknowledgement and respect. "I'll see you later. Sora Sensei." She was incredibly careful as to not show her eyes.

If allowed? She'd turn, and with it, she'd open them. And it almost felt as if the world had become a drab and dull color. As if the resolution had dropped. She was headed for home...

If allowed to return? She'd shut the door. Seal the blinds. To her small apartment, and she found herself slowly crawling to her futon. Crawling inside like a caterpillar, and closing her eyes. Where even if she couldn't sleep, she'd lay there. Let time pass. Her mind wandered to the darkest of thoughts imaginable, and the only solace she had at this point was when she slept. The passage or track of time didn't matter. Not for a girl named Ikana.

[Sora Minami]

Sora watched the light in Ikana’s eyes flicker, as if trying to fight for its right to burn- and then, all at once, the girl simply shut down. The light died, guttering out in a flash as she tried to brush the hurt aside, to bottle it down deep and keep in it. Sora saw all of this… and didn’t let it go unanswered.

"Don’t do that." The woman said, breathing slowly as she fought ak tears; tears for the girl who clearly cared more than anyone else, who wanted, so desperately, to be loved. To have just one damn connection that didn’t shatter in her face and burn her in the process. "Don’t shut down on me like that. Don’t bottle it all up and hide it away." She had done that herself, before. Taken all the pain and rage and hurt and forced it down, let it simmer into a seething, ceaseless storm that lingered to this day, driving her to move, to fight, to push on when all else would drop dead.

"I don’t want that for you." Sora breathed, not letting the girl leave, not even when she took off her headband. Her arms enveloped Ikana, holding her in a firm but unbreakable hug that wouldn’t change, wouldn’t shift, wouldn’t move. A rock amidst the ever shifting sea, a solid piece of ground for Ikana to cling to… if she reached out and took it. Please. Don’t shut me out.

Miyamoto Ikana

[Miyamoto Ikana]

When those words came, it made sense that Sora was one of those people that would know exactly what was going on. Because she probably was there. Probably lived that way. She could understand the pain that Ikana was going through better than most. Until Ikana felt that hug. Wrapping around her. It felt warm, and also desperate in a way as it held her tightly. The young brunette felt her smile drop somewhat. Until she shook her head. The smile seemed maybe a bit more genuine now. Because Ikana had reached the stage that was most difficult to reach. Acceptance. She felt more at peace with herself than ever.

"I'm a mistake...Sora-Sensei. I realize that. I have no goodness left." She says, as she feels her will to live, her inspiration, and any feeling of joy; what little there was leave her. Her face became more pale, and it was as if somehow, the young girl was lighter than before. "It was taken from me. Stolen. I-... just want to be forgotten. To be left alone. Like I always was." She'd finally come to the true realization. That at the end of the day, it didn't matter how cute or good she acted. How much she pretended to be sweet at times. She felt as if the world hated her, and that she'd be judged for everything. She didn't have the strength.

It was a battle. What was worse? Ikana took the hate and came to realize that for her? It was deserved. That the solace that she had was that there was nobody in this world that could hate her more than herself. She felt herself grow weak at the legs, and in those moments? She slowly shook her head. "I won't bottle anything away anymore..." As she spoke, the most terrible thing was that she kept her eyes shut. That smile along her face. As she sounded so soft and quiet. Before she spoke so delicately. Like a young child would. In such a innocent tone, as if asking an adult for guidance. "...Will you help me? Just. Once?...I can't do it...On my own." 

[Sora Minami]

Silence. That was what greeted Ikana’s words; stunned, horrified silence. Iit had taken her a second to figure out what the girl meant with her request, and in that second the Jounin had pulled back, hands resting on her student’s shoulders, so when the realization came, Ikana would be able to see the shock. The horror. The sheer, creeping dread of what her request meant. And if she looked, the girl would see what it would do to her Sensei, to grant that desire. The dark, monstrous thing that she would become. But like so often in her life, the pink-haired did not break beneath that pressure. No.

"No." She said, softly, looking Ikana in the eyes. Staring, pushing, willing that light to return, even if she had to spark it back to life with nothing but her own bare hands. "You are not a mistake, Ikana. And I am not going to leave you alone. Not now. Not ever again.” The pink-haired woman didn’t give her student a chance to reply; instead, she simply moved, gripping the teen’s hand tight, guiding her away from the forest. From the darkness, towards somewhere else.

"We’re going home."

Miyamoto Ikana

[Miyamoto Ikana]

Crying could sound a lot like laughter. But what did it mean when someone could do neither? When Sora spoke to her, it looked almost as if the girl before her had been in a form of shock maybe? Maybe like something had stolen her soul or her consciousness. The words that were spoken to her. They sounded familiar. In moments like this. She thought about Ikari. She thought about how when she became the Sanbi host, how they spoke highly. About how her life would mean something and that she'd never be alone or abandoned. Her heart panged. As distant memories came through her. She thought back to the hospital. How after they extracted the turtle from her, how she struggled for life. Being told that they took the Sanbi from her to alleviate her as a child of the burden.

The duty. The responsibility. How it was not a malicious intention, but that it was for the betterment of the village. So that she needs not be a sacrifice. It hurt. Because she remembered laying there. Her chakra network deeply disturbed. She remembered how they moved her into hospice care. How she struggled to eat. Clinging onto life desperately. She remembered how she fell into a darker state. Tried to be harder and more abrasive. Tried to be nonchalant and neutral. As to let nothing else in the world hurt her. How she was told by Daichi how the system failed her. How she had been detained and sentenced to a year at sea. How she had passed the Chunin Exams and had their results waived. The girl thought about everything in her life. In a flash of a moment. 

How it felt like an aching eternity. She couldn't muster the fight when she was dragged along. Sora told her that she wasn't a mistake. She remembered the matron then. How at the orphanage, she was told she wasn't orphaned because her parents were killed. About how she was left abandoned on the doorstep. Ikana's main coping mechanism to not deal with her issues was simply to distract herself with labor. To stop thinking about it. Keep herself busy. The girl remained awfully silent, but she could hear the clicking of her own heart in her chest. The world looked black and white. Grey. She never even realized she had been holding her breath. Until she finally took in a breath. And promptly fell forward. Dropping like a sack of potatoes. 

She fainted. And when she did?  Sora would find Ikana beginning to break out into a fever. Imagination was a wonderful accelerant for such an affliction. She became clammy and cold. For the first time in Ikana's life, she may have experienced a proper panic attack. A shock of her senses so intense, her brain couldn't tolerate or function it. But Ikana would be deeply unconscious for what felt like a short time. When in reality, it'd be an entire day. Where she'd wake up was the real question.

[Sora Minami]

Sora didn’t hesitate when Ikana passed out; she simply stopped, turned, and picked the girl up, carrying her in her arms. Her voice was soft, soothing, whispering words of encouragement as she took the Genin home- not to her apartment, but to the Jounin’s own place, laying her in the spare bedroom before she left, allowing Ikana to rest while she went to go get her things. There wasn’t much, just a handful of clothes and some basic furniture, so it didn’t take long, and before the day was up the pink-haired woman had finished moving Ikana into her house.

So it was that, when the Genin awoke a day later, sore, thirsty, and hungry, it was in a room both familiar and different than the one she was used to. It was familiar in that it had most of her furniture in it, minus the bed, but it was different in that it was clearly not her apartment- the walls were too nice, the paint too fresh, and there was no lingering smell of rotted food. Indeed, the whole room seemed far nicer than anything Ikana had known in a long time- not since the Kyobona had taken her in, actually. And then, of course, there was Sora.

"Oh. You’re awake." She said, smiling at the girl from her chair in the corner. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell, but Ikana, having been there before, would likely notice the bags under her eyes and the slight slur to her speech- a clear sign the Jounin hadn’t slept a wink since she’d passed out. "You had me worried there."

Miyamoto Ikana

[Miyamoto Ikana]

When she fell into a deep slumber, she had entered into a wild series of fever dreams. Some of which were her worst nightmares given manifest, whereas other ones seemed to be grandeur illusions. When she came to wake, her eyes slowly opening amidst the sand between her lids, it was a painful experience. As she slowly wipes her face, she realized for a moment that she wasn't home. She was in a home, but she wasn't in her home. She sits up slowly, until she sees the vision of a pinkette.

"Why?..." She had a difficult time swallowing and digesting all this, the idea that Sora cared about her in an intimate manner. Because every time she'd ever let someone into her life, she'd found herself broken down and hurt. More so if she let them in, in any significant manner. Intimacy was a source of suffering for the girl. Sora was absolutely right. Ikana desired little more than to be loved more than anything, but she'd come to realize that such a desire was a fleeting thing. She was growing older, and her heart felt empty. Child like wonder and desire had died; and the bitterness was what consumed her. Yet. Her heart ached.

She once prayed for success, and prosperity, and other trivial things. Which then transitioned to the affairs of love. She then wished for painless death and an ease to her suffering. Yet, now Sora was here. Giving the notion of compassion. Yet, Ikana wondered if it was real. If this too was going to vanish. Like a genjutsu.

[Sora Minami]

"Because I care, Ikana." Sora said, tiredness soaking through her tone as she leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her unkempt hair. She had been like this, after her team had died. Furious at the world, yet so broken and hurt she had no idea how to handle life- so she’d shut down, refusing to connect, spiraling into a black pit of depression and hate that only stopped when she killed the Kaguya who had ruined her life… and even then, it had been a long, slow climb up to normal.

"I know what it’s like to be alone. And I don’t want you to suffer that feeling anymore." She paused, a soft smile crossing her face as shook her head and, very slowly, reached into her vest to pull out a scroll. Ikana would, if she looked, recognize that it was addressed to her, as well as that someone (likely her Sensei) had opened it. The Jounin raised the scroll, as if holding up some trophy and, with a degree of pride the girl had likely never heard directed towards her before, said, "This came for you while you were out. It’s from the Mizukage’s office."

"You’re a Chuunin now, Ikana."

Miyamoto Ikana

[Miyamoto Ikana]

Sora said she cared, and with it, there wasn't a struggle to believe that for Ikana. Deep down, she knew that from the moment she approached her. She didn't need to meet with her, take her out on a mission, or guide her in any conceivable way. Yet, she was here. They were two sides of the same coin, two similar products made in this horrible environment. Yet, one was older than the other and more experienced in these aspects than the younger. her eyes drifted down to the floor, and she found her hand drifting to her head. She said that she didn't want her to suffer that feeling anymore.

"It's all I've ever known." She says, and with it, tears spill and drip from her eyes. "I'm scared." She says. And when Sora told her then that she had made Chuunin? She found herself in a way happy? Yet also neutral in that. It had been her original dream. When she was a no name orphan with no prospects, nothing to look forward to, she had only desired to reach the rank of Chuunin. Live modestly. There was a time she could have been content with that. She wondered if she could have found peace in her heart. If she would have been happier than she was now.

"The world's so...dark." She said, laying back down, her eyes looking up at the ceiling. "I just wish that I could stop caring. That I could kill my feelings so I could stop hurting. I'd rather feel nothing than hurt. But...People like you keep coming into my life and giving me hope. And smashing it to the ground." She says, the tears continuing to spill out. "What am I supposed to do with that? Nobody wanted to help me. And when I smiled. Laughed. Did things for others, they liked that better. But I never felt much closer to anyone." She didn't struggle to admit this part though.

"Not since you."

[Sora Minami]

Sora sat, listening as Ikana relayed her experience. The loneliness, the desperation, the fear, it all bled through her voice, and the weight of it spread cracks through her chest, a spiderweb of sadness for the girl she had come to care for like a sister. And yet, laced through that dark, broken tone, almost buried beneath the pain and bitterness… there was hope. A tiny, flickering light, one that, though soft and weak, refused to die. Refused to give up. To be snuffed out, even when faced with an overwhelming storm of suffering.

"Do you remember when I told you about what makes a sword strong?" The Jounin asked, her voice soft as she leaned back her chair. It had been one of her first lessons with the girl, before they had gotten truly close, though she, at least, thought of it often. "There is a part I left out. Not because it isn’t important, but because it wasn’t pertinent to what I was trying to say. But now…" Well. Now it was.

"After a sword is forged," Sora began, her sky-blue gaze fixed on Ikana’s crying face. "it goes to a polisher, who takes stones and scrapes the edges of the blade." The process was somewhat more complex than that, but Ikana didn’t need a lesson of polishing- and, in truth, she couldn’t have given one."The polisher takes his stones and, day after day, week after week, he grinds them against the blade, flecking off steel. Breaking down scale. Until, one day, he stops. Not because the blade has no more to give, but because the job is done. The sword is finished."

She paused then, letting the girl process what she’d said for a moment before she went on, voice calm and soothing as she stood and walked over to the girl, if only to ensure she saw the truth in her eyes. "You have suffered many hardships, Ikana. The smith has beaten you hard, hit you with fervent heat, and folded you time after time. But the forging process is done now. It's time for you to be polished, Ikana. And I know when the work is done, you’ll shine."

Miyamoto Ikana

[Miyamoto Ikana]

Sora said that, and yet, she felt herself battling internally how she should act. Some days, she tried to wear the sweet mask. When it became too hard to wear, she became a blank and emotionless figure on a surface. Cold and difficult to read. On other days, she was but a reserved and shy figure that stayed away from most. The real Ikana was splintered and hard to discern. If someone asked who Ikana was, she couldn't honestly tell the honest answer. The metaphor with the sword was tossed around, and yet, she wondered to some extent as she looked down upon herself. If in fact, she was broken.

She did recall some figures that she had an amicable relationship with. Taru was one. Daichi was a relatively nice person who seemed open enough to help her. Though at this point, she had to help herself. She was at a point in her life where it didn't really quite matter what she wanted. She was too old to be loved in the way she always envisioned. And she didn't really know any other kind of love to begin with. She didn't know those bonds of friendship that people often talked about, that camaraderie, because she had yet to have truly gained bonds like that. Ikana walked a lonely path, and part of that was from her own hesitance. Her own fears. Part of that was from the way the world functioned.

"If I'm going to shine...Who's going to be there to look at me?" She found herself asking. Better yet. Who would wield her? And when would she be broken and discarded again? Just as she was before? Broken and remade. She remembered it clearly. The strong pang in her heart and the luxurious warmth she fell to when she was adopted. Then found herself looking towards Sora now. Their eyes. "I need time to think." It was that safe answer she could give. Because she felt like there was nobody in this world that truly loved her to such extents; and it felt so awkward. Fruitless to try to make her way into another's heart. Life was fleeting.

Cruel. Taking the liberty to stand, she did so swiftly, nearly stumbling, as she placed a hand over her forehead. "I need to go. Go be alone. But...I'll be back." There was a horrible thought that lingered in her mind, even though her heart panged. Lingering thoughts that she ought to know better. That she'd fallen for this act and dance before. That they were just looking to monitor her. Control her. Closing her eyes, it was clear they were deeply disturbed. Their heart unsettled. Their soul stained.