[Minamoto Mei]

In the long, long list of unfinished paperwork, half-organized reports, and completely ignored requests that had steadily piled up in the time since the last Hanchou had occupied the office, there was a single duty Mei found to be the most complex and difficult to deal with- Shinobi evaluations. It was a task best served piecemeal, with multiple high level members of the village going over a ninja’s individual strengths and weaknesses rather than one person handling the entire thing… but given that there was a distinct lack of qualified Shinobi, the task had fallen to her. As if I didn’t have enough to do.

Still, the list of Jounin and Special Jounin who needed their skills reviewed was relatively small compared to the massive pile of unsigned requisition orders that needed sorting, so that was what the Yuki woman found herself doing. Today she had four evaluations on her docket- and the first was with a particularly interesting individual from the Nue clan who, as far as she was aware, had shown himself to be an exemplary Shinobi in most respects. As Hanchou she had access to a fair few files that were far from the public eye, and knew of a great deal of his service history already- but there was a difference between reading about a man in a file and meeting him in person.

Which was why Mei found herself at a small training ground she had reserved for these evaluations, leaning against one of the snow-white walls as she waited, one eye on the sun, the other watching the nearby gate. The area wasn’t large, perhaps fifty meters square in total, surrounded by artificially formed walls of hard-pack snow that stood a good ten meters high. Technically a training ground for the Yuki clan, the place was rarely used on account of most of her cousins (well, the older ones) being stuck up little shits who didn’t want to get their robes dirty- which made it perfectly out of the way for what she wanted to do today.

Now all the man had to do, of course, was show up. On time, preferably.

nue masahiko

[nue masahiko]

FEAR IS THE MIND-KILLER

It had been at least two years since Masahiko’s last evaluation—when he received the memo from the Jounin Hanchou, it made him think, and he realized starkly that it had, in fact, been just about two years since he assumed leadership of team one, and his last evaluation had been just prior to that. He wondered where the time had gone. The months slipped by as easily as icy wind across a snowfield: there and then gone, and he felt distinctly pained that he was not, in fact, getting any younger. Nevermind that he was only twenty-three; he felt ancient, wizened, aged beyond his years thanks to the constant psychic onslaught of mentoring sassy teenagers. Though he was vaguely aware that he himself was a stuck-up little shit who didn’t want to get his robe dirty, he was pragmatic enough to shed his more delicate sensibilities ahead of an evaluation with his direct superior, and opted to wear one of his older, more worn-in kimonos that was more practical for daily training usage. He had written down the meeting time as half an hour earlier than it was scheduled for in his calendar, the result being that he showed up to the Yuki clan training ground precisely on time. "Minamoto-sama,” he greeted, bowing politely at he approached. He wasn’t personally familiar with the woman; he knew her by reputation, but he had been a chuunin when she last held the title of Jounin Hanchou, and was deeply entrenched in the medical corps at the time. "How can I serve?”

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LAIKA OF THQ

[Minamoto Mei]

Masahiko arrived exactly fourteen seconds before he was supposed to, strolling into the training ground with an air of fastidious formality, his outfit slightly worn from obvious use, though still fairly impractical in her eyes. Kimono weren’t built for direct combat, particularly when it came to the kind of high level fights a Tokubetsu Jounin would inevitably be faced with. Still, she wasn’t entirely surprised- the man’s file indicated he was more of a support specialist, focusing on medical ninjutsu and genjutsu than direct combat.

"Nue-san." She replied, returning his bow with a slight dip of her head, following the proper protocol of both clan and village. She was his superior, both in rank and position, so there was no need to differ at all, but the slight dip would give the man a clear indication that she wasn’t here to assert anything over him that she didn’t have to- a subtle sign that this did not have to be quite as difficult as most evaluations tended to be.

"It has been… two years since your last evaluation, no?" Mei asked, stepping away from the wall of packed snow as she spoke, voice calm and flat, tone formal but not rigid, her body language relaxed in the way all Jounin knew how to hold- utterly at ease, yet ready to spring up and kill at a moments notice. "I would like to know what you have done in those two years to improve. How you have grown as a Shionbi… and a person."

nue masahiko

[nue masahiko]

FEAR IS THE MIND-KILLER

Minamoto Mei was a consummate professional, which was clear in the way she held herself: relaxed but primed, formal in a way that befit her rank and position yet clearly not gratuitously flexing her authority. It was a thin line to ride, but she rode it well, and Masahiko respected the deftness with which that was executed. To her question he inclined his head, a wordless affirmative. As she pushed herself off the hard-packed snow, Masahiko straightened up minutely, taking a moment to coil up his hip-length hair and clip it securely to the back of his head: the possibility that she might challenge him for a practical demonstration not far from his mind. "My focus has primarily been on the growth of my genin team,” he said, feeling remarkably like he was sitting down for an interview. "Some of its membership has cycled out in that time, but my current team has been relatively stable for the last six months. Hoshino Kohaku is a fresh genin with a strong talent for physical shinobi arts, and I have been grooming her for future leadership positions—she has a good aptitude and attitude for it. Sesshoku Hizou is a budding diplomat and support-class shinobi, focused on reconnaissance and intel gathering. He’s an aspiring sensor and, with time, should turn into a capable interrogator.” There was an unmistakable flicker of fondness that crossed Masahiko’s face as he finally came to the subject of his final student. "I have been in the process of drafting up the paperwork required for Yuki Kazu’s promotion for a few months. He’s more than capable and I believe ready to become a chuunin, but would be served by a touch more refinement of his combat capabilities and talent with his kekkei genkai before we formally submit the paperwork.” His head tilted, his gaze lifting as he considered that he had not quite answered Minamoto-sama’s question. "My own training has fallen somewhat by the wayside,” he admitted, chagrined. "Dai Ri has been mentoring me in the arts of the Demonic Illusion genjutsu, though I haven’t fully mastered it yet. My independent study has been primarily about improving my control over the Nue’s kekkei genkai.” He paused, briefly uncertain. "I mastered the Salamander Limb Regrowth technique some months ago, and was first able to put it to use in rehabilitating a young man from Kusagakure who was… unfortunately relieved of his arms in the Kuwana chuunin exams. Lady Fifth was… permissive.” His expression was carefully neutral, but there was the slightest waver in his voice: as if he were confessing to a crime, like he had done something utterly unforgivable.

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LAIKA OF THQ

[Minamoto Mei]

Mei stood and watched Masahiko with a detached sense of interest, her ice-blue gaze level with his as he slowly curled his hip length hair up into a bun and clipped it in place behind the base of his skull before he replied. She listened to his delineation of Genin Team One’s various members with a keen ear, nodding as he went down the line, breaking down his student’s various strengths without going into too much detail. It wasn’t until the man reached his evaluation of her clanmate and distant cousin, however, that the Hanchou showed any real visible reaction- a soft, knowing smile to match the Nue’s own, albeit less fond, as she had only trained with the boy once so far.

"I see." She said once the man began to speak of himself, admitting that his own training had fallen by the wayside in the wake of his student’s needs. It was a common issue with Genin Team Leaders, as the role practically required one to either not train at all or sacrifice sleep to keep sharp. Those chosen for the job were supposed to be able to ride the thin line of balancing their own needs with their students… but it was rare for anyone to do it well. At least he’s focused on his student’s growth.

Still, the avenues he had taken for his own training were promising- Dai Ri was a veritable genius when it came to Genjutsu, and the Salamander Limb Regrowth technique was something she intimately familiar with, as it had been used to regrow her own hands after Saya cut them off. There was something in the way the man spoke though, a hesitant flutter that hadn’t been present before, and it set alarm bells off in her head.

"You say that as if it were a crime, Nue-san." Mei said, tilting her head to the side as she blinked, trying to process just why he would seem so… ashamed. His file had noted the incident, but she hadn’t been aware it had been his first attempt at using the technique on another- that he’d chosen to use it on a helpless Genin was commendable. "Such a gesture will no doubt improve our standing with Kusagakure, nevermind the gratitude the boy likely felt for your efforts. You did a good thing, helping him."

So why was he upset about it?

nue masahiko

[nue masahiko]

FEAR IS THE MIND-KILLER

Masahiko was speaking a lot, and Mei was saying very little. He was not sure where that left him. He was unused to feeling so off-kilter; he was the one who put people in the hot seat, not the other way around. A feeling only made more severe by Mei’s approval of his actions in Kuwana. Masahiko blinked in surprise, her brow creasing ever-so-slightly as he took a moment to process her words. She was correct, echoing all the same sentiments Lady Fifth had expressed when he sought her permission to do what he did, but something was still missing from the equation. "I assume you’re familiar with my… extracurricular responsibilities under Dai Ri’s supervision,” Masahiko said: the most delicate way he could think to refer to his work as an interrogator, the odd space he occupied as not-quite-GOKA, not-quite-standard. "My skill set is highly specific. I am,” he paused for a beat, "unused to utilizing those skills altruistically.” He was hesitant to speak on it further, but who else was there to go to? If he was correct in his assessment of his own mind, then at least Minamoto Mei would be able to help him course-correct, sink back into the mental space he needed to do his duty. "I am concerned that my impulse to help undermines my ability to do my job,” he said. Unfailingly professional and twice as stiff, his discomfort was evident. The unspoken fear: that he was not made of stern enough stuff to be an interrogator, that empathy was a weakness, that he needed to harden his heart and mind.

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LAIKA OF THQ

[Minamoto Mei]

Masahiko did not look comforted by her words. If anything, the slight furrowing of the man’s brow spoke, not of relief, but of deeper discomfort, as if he had expected her to say exactly the opposite of what she’d said and decry his altruistic actions as weak and childishly naive. The Yuki woman blinked, her lips twitching down in a nearly imperceptible frown at the man’s reaction, her gaze lingering in his as he spoke. Ah. So that’s what it is.

"I am aware of you work with him, yes." She said, controlling her tone carefully so as not to let her disdain for the Warden show. Dai Ri was many things, but a good example was not one of them. He was a relic of the old world, the cold, unfeeling dictatorship that had been the staple of Yukiakure’s leadership, until recently. "I think, however, you have made a mistake, Nue-san."

The Hanchou paused, allowing the statement to sink in while she organized her thoughts, setting what she wanted to say in motion in her head before she actually said it. It was clear Masahiko was at a crossroads, a fork in his life’s journey where he would have to choose who he wanted to be. If she was going to guide him to his choice, she wanted to make sure it was done right.

"There is a difference between hardness and strength." Mei said, walking towards the side of the training ground, one hand coming to rest on the wall of snow as she spoke. "These walls are hard. Solid. But that does not make them strong. One wrong hit and they will crack." As if to demonstrate, the Yuki woman cocked her fist back- and in a flash slammed it into the snow, a spiderweb of cracks forming from the point her fist impacted the ice-enmeshed snow.

"To be hard does not mean one is strong, Nue-san." She continued, pulling her fist back as she turned to look at the man, icy-blue gaze burning with a rare display of passion that, she hoped, would connect with him. "True strength lies not in cold, unfeeling hardness, but in heat. In feeling. To feel is to be human. To deny yourself empathy is to deny the most basic of human emotion. And that does not make you strong. It makes you weak."

"Are you weak, Nue-san?"

nue masahiko

[nue masahiko]

FEAR IS THE MIND-KILLER

The Warden had been a critical mentor in Masahiko’s career: he was responsible for the vast majority of Masahiko’s proficiency with genjutsu, his fine-tuned chakra control and ability to layer techniques one atop the other like sheets upon a bed. He was as gracious as his profession allowed him to be, and impressed upon his students the importance of skill and elegance in their work. And yet, he thought, Minamoto Mei had a point. He watched cracks lance through ice and snow like lightning bolts, his expression impassive and inscrutable as his guard lifted, his face shuttered, closing himself off to shield the cracks resonating within. From birth he had been taught to prioritize the self above all else. Endure and survive, whatever it takes. His understanding of this creed was somewhat unique in that he was not a thieving, desperate backstabber, but rather ensconced himself as an invaluable cog in Yukigakure’s machine, irreplaceable for the services he was able and willing to offer. There was a distance inherent to this, a sort of mutually understood quid pro quo in that his loyalty was won so long as his protection and survival were ensured. Leadership had changed him. His students had changed him. If he were to believe Mei, he had been changed for the better. He was not yet convinced. "Yes,” he replied, cool and smooth. "I helped that young man because I saw what had been done to him and I was relieved that it had not happened to Hizou or Kohaku. Hizou himself had nearly been killed, if his recounting of the exam is correct. I watched Kazu go head-to-head with a grown man, a Hyuuga, and afterwards he teased me for how afraid I had been for him. That he’d had it under control. "I care deeply for my students. My concern—if something were to happen to any of them, I would be too weak to bear it.” His gaze fell. Within the wide sleeves of his robes, his hands gripped each other, white-knuckled. "Empathy ceases to be a strength when it is what cripples you.”

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[Minamoto Mei]

"And yet." Mei replied, her voice gentle, her face twitching into a soft, knowing smile, gesturing towards Masahiko with an open hand as flakes crumbled from the wall, caught in a soft breeze. "You still healed the boy. Using a jutsu you had never tried before, you regrew both his arms… for a complete stranger. That does not sound like a man crippled by compassion, Nue-san." Far from it, actually.

The Yuki woman paused, allowing the Special Jounin a few moments to process his own emotions, to think, not on what he had been taught, but on what he knew. He had already agreed with her point.He already knew what the truth was- that, despite everything his clan had done to eradicate the feelings he feared, despite all of Dai Ri’s teachings to the contrary, despite his own beliefs telling him it was wrong… Masahiko cared. He felt and bled and yearned and loved and hoped for the connections that so many Shinobi decried as a weakness better left discarded.

"The truth of the matter, Nue-san," She began once the man had collected his thoughts, "Is that you aren’t worried about your students being hurt. You aren’t worried about them failing, or the repercussions of if they get injured. And you aren’t afraid of being inadequate, either." Mei again paused, taking a short breath as she looked away from the man, ice-blue gaze falling upon the cracked section of ice she had formed with her fist. She had hit the thing with all her strength- and even though it had cracked, the wall still held.

It had taken years of living with Raimaa for her to see it; so many Shinobi held themselves to such a high standard, so many felt that they simply didn’t measure up, that when the time came, they would somehow come up short. But that was just the face fear wore, the mask that hid the truth, keeping it safe so it couldn’t be brought to light and allowed to die. That was what kept a man up at night; the gnawing doubt, the fear that ate away at the soul until only a shell remained. ‘Who am I to be brilliant, beautiful, powerful? Who am I to have such gifts?’

"What terrifies you most is not that you might not be enough, but that deep down, you are."

nue masahiko

[nue masahiko]

Masahiko did not look at Mei. He couldn’t; he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze as he spoke, each word landing like a hammer against his ears. He looked at the cracks spiderwebbing through the ice wall, tracing the length of each with his eyes as he bore the brunt of Mei’s estimation like a prisoner enduring torture. It was painful. Why, he couldn’t say. For someone so well-versed in psychology he thought he would have had a better understanding of the workings of his own mind; but then, he thought, it was rare that he was in this position. There was always work to be done, room to improve, tasks to complete, minds to break, students to teach. For someone who wore the veneer of smug self-assurance like a skintight bodysuit it should not have been painful to be told that the worst of his fears was true: that he mattered. That his actions had impact, and that impact was meaningful. Necessary. Good. He felt, for the first time in a long time, like the young man he was: only twenty-three years old and still finding his way in the world. Masahiko took a shaky breath and finally looked at Mei, feeling quite small and vulnerable. "So what now?” he asked. He felt as if something fundamental should have changed with the revelation; instead he just felt restless, eager to retreat to the safety of his genin team and his daily routine.

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LAIKA OF THQ

[Minamoto Mei]

Mei saw Masahiko look away, and knew her words had found their mark. Like a surgeon’s scalpel, she had cut through the layers of self-doubt and deceit to strike at the core of his issue, the fear that sat, shriveled and rotten, at the center of the Nue’s current predicament. It was contrary to everything he had ever been taught, to everything he thought he believed- but as she watched him process the truth, his face a twisted grimace of painful reflection that couldn’t meet her gaze, she knew what he really believed. So the Hanchou gave the man the space he needed to think, to work through his feelings… and when he at last summoned the courage to speak, she was ready for that, too.

"That, Nue-san, is up to you." She said, her voice soft and, for once, comforting; not motherly, but something close to it. Sisterly, perhaps. "I cannot tell you how to walk this path; I can only tell you what I know, and what I have done." The Yuki woman paused then, turning her ice-blue gaze to the cracks she had formed in the wall, chakra pulsing through her fingertips as she placed her hand on the indentation and focused. Hyouton flowed from her palm and into the hard-packed snow, the chakra filling the gaps she had made with perfect precision until, with a snap, it froze in place, making a patch that looked utterly indistinguishable from the original.

"That will do for your evaluation, Nue-san. I see no reason to take up more of your time." Mei said once she was done, turning her head towards the Special Jounin, lips parting in a small smile. She knew better than to push something like this on someone all at once, especially not someone so tightly wound as Masahiko. Change had to happen gradually at first, at his pace- when he was ready, he would make the next step. "You may return to your duties."

nue masahiko

[nue masahiko]

It felt distinctly unjust, Masahiko thought distantly, that Minamoto Mei should come in and so acutely flip his world upside down, then not even offer a hand to help him back on his feet. He wanted to say something—curse at her, scold her, anything—but his lips were sealed. What was there for him to say? She was right, in the end: she couldn’t actually help him. This was something he needed to navigate on his own. Which sounded so dramatic, didn’t it? It should have been a kind thing, to be told that his actions were meaningful. That his efforts were worthwhile. Instead he just felt sick to his stomach with dread—a burden that had hovered above his shoulders for how many moons since the chuunin exams, now coming home to roost. "I understand,” he said, and it was only partially a lie. He bowed politely to the Jounin Hanchou, and issued another partial lie: "Thank you for your observations. I… appreciate your insights.” He would take his leave then, feeling slightly punch-drunk. In the end all he could do was what he was told: he returned to his duties. He had reports to file, training sessions to schedule, mission assignments to pick up. The stray cats that lived behind the home he shared with his grandmother would be waiting and begging for dinner. When he laid down to sleep that night, he would find sleep utterly elusive, his mind running rampant with words left unspoken; regrets that he had buried with the conviction of one who believed that to hope was a pointless endeavor; the burden of a long future weighing heavy on the heart he’d almost convinced himself he didn’t have. [exit.]

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[Minamoto Mei]

Mei watched Masahiko leave with a quiet, steady sense of curiosity. She hadn’t intended to turn the man’s world upside down, hadn’t intended to break him in the way he had so clearly broken in their short conversation, but intentions and results rarely, if ever, stayed aligned for long. And while the man might have claimed that he understood and appreciated her words, that he was fine… she could tell he was far from it. And yet. She said nothing, merely watching as the Nue staggered away from the training grounds, her gaze lingering on the exit long after he had gone.

Each of the Shinobi under her command had their own battles to fight. She knew that better than most, but sometimes it was good to be reminded. Masahiko would have had to come to grips with the feelings he was experiencing eventually; she had simply been the catalyst to push them to the forefront now, rather than later. And yes, he had cracked beneath the pressure- but like a bone that hadn’t set properly, sometimes things needed to be broken again. The Yuki woman was confident he would recover, and whatever choice he made would end up being a benefit. To himself, his students, and his village.

Back to the grind. Mei thought as she shook her head, walking back towards the Castle and her office in it. She had half a dozen other evaluations to do today alone, but at least this one had produced some kind of fruit. The hope of it, anyway. She would take that, though. She would take anything over the nothing she had before.

fin