[Ishikawa Ren]

     Ren stood hunched over an old wooden desk, an ancient and thick chunk of tree interlaced with black swirls. The top of desk was drowned in loose papers that seemed to blend into one another.

     The walls of the room were covered in scrolls and shelves, all caked with dust. An older man with red hair - streaked with white - sat next to Ren, dozing into his threadbare chair that seemed nearly as old as the desk.

     Mister Ikeda, Ren recalled, had been kind enough to let him in to study his family's extensive collection of Fuinjutsu scrolls. They were a simple 'clan', with no forbidden techniques or hijutsu to hide from the world.

     They had met in an old antique bookstore that Ren frequented from time to time. Despite his occupation, he always made sure to find time for hobbies: reading and writing included. They'd struck up a conversation and before he knew it, Ren had a free hand to comb through their library - so long as the scrolls and books remained therein.

     At the moment, Ren was squinting at a scroll that'd been faded with age and use but was still barely legible enough to use. It was a simple technique, something even a Fuinjutsu novice such as himself would be able to learn and perform: Smoke Seal.

213 words

1/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     It had occurred to him, after his spar with his squadmate Akirei, that even though equipment was almost always preferable to jutsu with the same effect (because it conserved chakra) that some amount of redundancy was required. If he had been able to create the smoke himself, instead of running out of bombs, he might've been able to outlast him.

     And so here he was: breathing in dust with an old man snoring beside him. Still, it was pleasant. The Ikeda's home reminded him of his hometown in some ways. For one, there wasn't any metal to be seen on the inside aside from old candelabras and torch sconces.

     The hour was late, and he was performing his study by candle light, or else he would have woken the older man for help. He wasn't a Shinobi, but he could use Fuinjutsu as his family has always specialized in. Let him get his sleep, he thought.

     It wasn't his first Fuinjutsu technique - he'd learned Senkin with the Ikedas as well, alongside a young boy named Tooru. But this was his first time teaching himself one. He had done his best to commit it to memory and so shut the scroll quietly and tip-toed to a shelf, deposited it there, and left the room.

213 words

2/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     He made his way down a set of staircases so worn that they bowed in the middle. There was dust in the air and dirt along the bottom of the hallway below, though Ren could've sworn there hadn't been any outside even remotely close. Older than the walkway? It was possible. This wasn't the only ancient house in the city.

     The door creaked open slowly, revealing a decently sized room with tatami mats and yellowed paper scrolls covered in calligraphy. This was the closest thing the Ikeda's had to a dojo or a training room.

     Ren took a few small scrolls, a calligraphy brush, and a bottle of ink from a small container by the entrance. Carefully, as though in reverence, he lowered himself to the middle of the floor in seiza. The Ikedas treated their art this way - so he would as well. He began.

     Spreading a scroll out in front of himself, he dipped the brushed in the ink jar. Pulling from his memory, Ren attempted to replicate the intricate work he had seen on the scroll that contained this Fuinjutsu. This part was not strictly necessary - the jutsu could be performed by hand alone, but the older Ikeda had told him the importance of understanding the technique in all its forms.

214 words

3/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     It was a little hard for him to imagine that, somehow, there was smoke inside of this scroll. It was part of a whole list of things that seemed rather mystical to him before. Nothing like this existed where he grew up. Their tools, food, everything came from the material world... not some pocket dimension.

     Of course, he understood now that what was contained in scrolls such as these had once been as mundane as anything else. The smoke inside had been prepared and then simply 'stored' in the scroll. The-in between part still confused him a bit.

     "There is no shortcut!" the old man had corrected. "Every one of these scrolls was prepared by someone, diligently. All those hundreds of hours of skill-building go unappreciated." But Ren did appreciate. There was no bread without the baker, no wheat without the farmer; no fish on the table without the fisherman.

     When his amateurish calligraphy attempt was done, he capped the ink jar, cleaned the brush. Depositing the materials into their appropriate places, he exited the room and proceeded - scroll draped over his hands - to an adjoining chamber.

     Inside this room was dirt floor that sloped into the middle, slowly turning from brown to black. A char pit sat in the middle, surrounded by jars full of various types of leaves.

220 words

4/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     Ren knelt before the pit and grabbed a few specific handfuls of leaves. He placed them at precise points as he had been shown by the elder Ikeda. Ordinarily, one would use a basic katon jutsu - most of the Ikedas possessed it as a natural affinity - but Ren hadn't learned that nature yet.

     Instead he pulled some tinder and two sticks he'd brought beforehand out from his thigh pouch. Using the method he'd been taught growing up camping, he twisted the sticks and ignited the fire.

     As the flames began to lick around the bottom of the leaves, the door creaked open. Tooru entered. He was young and vibrant, energetic. His red hair matched the fire, but his green eyes looked like Ren to fields.

     The boy took a place next to Ren, both sitting in seiza. When the smoke had billowed and filled the room to the point Ren had to consciously avoid coughing, Tooru sealed the mass into the scroll with a slap.

     Once he'd extinguished the fire and cleaned up after himself Ren bowed to and thanked Tooru, who retreated back whence he came. Rolling up the now-dry scroll, he left the room and returned to the study.

201 words

5/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     The old man was still fast asleep when Ren entered. His light breathing filled the room, barely audible over the soft pattering of rain on the window behind him. Ishikawa set the scroll on the desk in front of him, then rubbed his eyes and let curiosity take him in rummaging through the scrolls.

     Most were things Ren wouldn't even be able to think about attempting for a long, long time. Some required such a mastery of Fuuinjutsu that he didn't think he'd ever be able to perform them. Ren blew the dust out of the box he'd lifted some from and then set them back.

     The other chair called to him now. The soft lighting and scent of old scrolls were calming, almost hypnotic. Ren felt the need to nap, so he sat down beside the old Ikeda. He crossed his arms, kicked his legs out, then drifted off.

     Ren awoke to the crinkling of paper. The elder had just finished inspecting his work and had furled the scroll back. He placed it above Ren's crossed arms. Slowly waking, Ren took them and asked how his work was. "Not horrible," Ikeda said. "My boy's got you beat -" the old man mused while chewing on the end of an unlit pipe. "but not bad."

214 words

6/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     The two walked back down the passages of the Ikeda household, treading on old dirt as they went. Ren still wondered how truly ancient this place must be. It made him recall the statue he'd found in Arashi Teien.

     Could that antediluvian person have been an Ikeda? He doubted it, Amegakure was home to many clans that were likely to be just as old - even if they, and everyone else, had forgotten - and the Ikeda had never been a particularly important one at that.

     The old master who was - very slowly - plodding along in front of Ren almost reminded him of the statue though. There was still red in that hair, but it was always slower to fade than the other colors. His wrinkled skin had almost assumed the look of stone though.

     After what had felt like an eternity, the pair arrived at another training room. This one, Ren thought as the door creaked open, appeared to be used for unsealing too but of a higher level. There'd been a young man, about Ren's age, guarding the door. He assumed the room was for the clan head's exclusive use.

     The elderly man settled himself in a stone alcove that'd been carved into the wall, then gestured for Ren to set himself up in the center of the room.

219 words

7/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     Ren did so. Unfurling his scroll into the proper level of a multi-leveled wooden pit intended to fit different scroll sizes, he sat down and prepared to unseal the scroll. Forming his hands into the Fuuinjutsu handseal that he had been taught, Ren focused on molding his chakra.

     Ikeda sat there, watching. His old rheumy eyes observed the handseal and Ren's posture as though he had Byakugan and was able to see his chakra network. "You getting the proper control?" he barked out, ruining Ren's focus. "Of course!" Ren replied. "Best as I can, anyway. I've got too much for fine control like Mister Masao, or any of the medic-nin." Ikeda grumbled.

     Focusing once more on his handseal, Ren felt the physical and spiritual energy 'twisting' around inside his stomach. He wound them as tightly as he could to save chakra, but there was simply too much to do so efficiently. It was like folding a thick piece of paper - much, much harder than folding a thin one. And after a certain point, it was simply impossible. Nonetheless, Ren used the formed chakra and molded it such that he could apply it using his Fuuinjutsu handseal.

     With a poof, the scroll's surface began to slowly leak out smoke like a candle. The amount was far, far too small to be the full potential of the scroll. "No, no!" the old man shouted at Ren. "Wrong! Again!"

236 words

8/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     The elderly Ikeda grabbed his cane and thwapped Ren's handseal. "Wrong! Wrong!" Ren recoiled. "Why?" he asked with an incredulous look. "Look!" he said, pointing the trembling cane at the handseal.

     Ren wasn't sure what was wrong about the handseal at first, but soon realized he'd messed up the positioning of his fingers. Beyond that, he realized independently, he'd made an error with the execution of his chakra use. It wasn't inefficient, per se - at least anymore than his usual usage was - but it was simply incorrect.

     "What did I do wrong, exactly?" Ren asked. Ikeda continued his grumbling, stuffing his cane under his armpit. Forming his own handseal, he performed some kind of Fuuinjutsu that Ren didn't recognize. A seal mark appeared on the ceiling above them and - after a silent moment - a scroll 'fell' out from it. Ikeda caught it with dexterity Ren wouldn't have expected.

     "Like this," he muttered. Ikeda tossed the new scroll onto the ground beside Ren with a masterful throw that saw it fully unfurl without nary a wrinkle. Using the same handseal Ren had used, only better, Ikeda unsealed the scroll and smoke quickly filled the room. Ren could hear the old man lightly coughing through the cloud, then the door creaking open and closed as the young man outside fanned the smoke out of the room.

224 words

9/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     When the smoke had cleared, Ren noticed the old man had taken his prior seat. The red-haired man outside peeked in, then when he was sure he was no longer needed, shut the door. Ikeda pointed his cane back at the scroll.

     Ren looked down, surprised to see that the scroll was no longer leaking smoke and that the design was fully intact. Did he reseal it? The idea that this old man could have done that and found his way back to his seat before the smoke cleared seemed implausible. But Ren had seen more impressive things from men who seemed feebler still.

     Breathing calmly, Ren once more built up his chakra in an attempt to unseal the scroll - hopefully properly this time. He inspected his handseal. All seemed well. From as far as he could tell, it matched the one Ikeda had used perfectly. Ren focused inward as he performed the most esoteric part. Chakra swirled within him, which he directed in the proper manner this time.

     In an instant, the scroll exploded into a huge plume of smoke that obscured Ren's vision. Before the man outside could even open the door though, the smoke was gone.

     Surprised, Ren looked over at Ikeda who was smiling and holding an unfurled scroll. The surface of that scroll now matched what had been on Ren's own, perfectly.

226 words

10/11

[Ishikawa Ren]

     They were back in the foyer of the Ikeda household, standing between stacks of books and scrolls. The whole house looked like an overstocked used bookstore, Ren thought. They certainly had more than any library he'd ever seen in Amegakure.

     The old man leaned on his cane, looking almost like the wind and rain outside could knock him over. Ren wondered what went through that ancient head of his. Suddenly he fished something out from a nearby table, toppling some books over in the process.

     "Take this." Ikeda mumbled, throwing Ren a pouch. Just barely catching it, Ren looked at it - it was a thigh pouch, nearly the same as his other one. He unzipped it. Inside were jars of ink, brushes of various sizes, small strips of paper.

     Fuuinjutsu tools, it looked like. Ren bowed deeply. "Thank you, master Ikeda." he said sincerely. The old man laughed and waved him away. "Nothin' you couldn't just buy at some store."

     Nonetheless, Ren thanked him again and informed the man he'd return for more Fuuinjutsu lessons at another time. Ikeda said that the boy mostly taught himself, but that he was free to come whenever. Their clan wasn't a particularly busy one - the Lord very rarely came knocking. They mostly kept to themselves.

     Ren opened the door to the rain soaking into the wooden planks just outside the door. When he looked back, the elder had already disappeared into some nook somewhere. No doubt napping.

244 words

11/11