[Ishikawa Ren]

     In retrospect, he recalled little more about what had preceded the ordeal than what the escorts has described when he was set up in the hospital in Amegakure. What day it was, or time, or even the country, he did not know - only that it had happened on their way back from the Chuunin Exams.

     The Chuunin escorts had detailed what injuries he'd already had in his report - though in his mind, they'd all blended together. Were the burns from Daredemo? All of them? Was it his knee that'd been torn apart, or his own? They said his leg only broke because of the training he'd done with Shosuke before the Exams. A hairline fracture.

     Freak accident. Even a Shinobi can't predict when a cliff will explode into a shower of boulders. There'd been a rumble, but before anyone knew what had happened, Ren was buried. The escorts had been luckier and had been swept off the road and down a small hill, soon running back up to dig Ren out of the rubble.

     The exhausted Ren could do little, beside endure the pain - his leg had been snapped like a twig, a much-delayed consequence of training too hard, as he later saw it. They pulled him off to the side and set him up against a tree further down the path, next to a forest. He couldn't remember why they'd been alone, but there was no Jounin to rescue him or medic-nin to fix him.

     The Chuunin cursed as they inspected his leg, whipping their heads around in the hope someone with medical experience would round the corner and take him off of their hands so they could run to the nearest settlement and get help.

Kyodai Utsuwa | 287 words

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

The exams had been enlightening and confusing both for Utsuwa. Enlightening, in that they saw just what horrible wonders the blasphemers could wreak, and some of how. Confusing as it had all seemed... pointless. So much toil, so much struggle, so much suffering, and for what? An evaluation of who the greater blasphemer was? They did not even bring death to the defeated, the wounded, the suffering.

Much to ponder. Utsuwa's short strides were made shorter by their distracted thoughts, as they wandered out of the shinobi nation to wherever their feet and Jashin's will would guide them next. Their tengai-gasa tilted up and swung back and forth as a rumble passed through the earth, then the crack of tumbling and splitting stone filled the air. Judging from the plume of dust, it had been a rockslide. Likely triggered by a small earthquake. The world had many ways to inflict suffering upon the unbeliever, even without the artifice of man or the raging of beasts.

Their heart quickened. A chance to lend true understanding. To grant blessed rest to the grievously injured. To grant the release of service to Jashin to the willing.

The barefooted and shabbily-dressed monk quickened their pace.

With their face hidden behind wicker, they eventually saw the scene before them. The delight in their eyes hidden as they saw two heathen tending to a third. Pain. An opportunity. Utsuwa was not like their brethren of the Inquisitive order. They had hope for these heathens yet. They, like Utsuwa, simply needed the right... motivation, as it were.

They approached the trio, hands raised and empty.
"Hail and well met!" The greeting was cheery, despite the dubious look of the robed and anonymous monk. 'Tis plain that harm hath found thee. Art thou in need of succor?" The symbol of Jashin swung from their neck. Some recognized it, and shied away. Most, in their limited experience, were largely ignorant. They peered at the leg. "Ah, a break. Thou must needs seek aid posthaste. Hark, and rejoice, for Jashin-sama smiles upon thee! Full willing and able am I to set broken bones, to sew flesh. To mend, and to lead thee hence to true mending." They had no medical certificate to offer as means of proof, but their pack was stocked with the tools needed to lend the aid they explicitly offered. As well as the aid they implicitly offered. "Pray, but ask, and it shalt be done."

They crouched down, hands still up and empty, examining the wound. The pain. A teacher, but an imperfect one. There was so much that could be done... The basket twitched up, then between the injured man's two companions, eagerly awaiting an affirmative response.

[Ishikawa Ren]

     The escorts looked over the strange monk, but their offer of medical treatment - as they understood it - was enough for them. The symbol of Jashin sparked no understanding in the men and they acquiesced, requesting aid in looking over and fixing up the injured Genin while they ran to the nearest settlement to get help.

     Still, they hesitated for a brief moment. The barely-there Ren waved them away, though, and that was the end of that. They rushed off. The Amegakure Shinobi looked up at the stranger, but could hardly see them through the blur. He was exhausted, and had been. Something in his concussed mind jumbled the memories together, thought it was still the third round and that he was half-blind.

     All that pierced through the fog was that strange symbol dangling on their neck. He'd never seen it. "What... is that?" he mumbled, holding his head together with his right hand. It felt his brain was going to burst out, though his skull was fine. "Are you a doctor? Jashin...?" he trailed off, trying and failing to ask if that was their name.

     Were he fully conscious, he'd be intensely interested. As it was, he simply wanted to sleep - the only thing keeping him from passing out was the searing pain in his leg. "Will you help me?"

Kyodai Utsuwa | 220 words

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

Utsuwa smiled down at their latest charge, hoping that Jashin's benevolence would pierce through the paltry veil around their head. Especially now there were none others to interfere in their ignorance
"A doctor after a fashion" It was a vague answer, but not an untrue one. They did not touch the leg or other injuries - not yet - but they were already forming a diagnosis. "I am Utsuwa, a vessel of Jashin-sama's blessings. I will help thee as much as I am able." They shuffled closer, kneeling in the dirt as they examined the leg, then the head. Bringing the grille of the tengai-gasa close enough for their eyes to properly meet, red eyes searching for signs of disorientation or concussion.

"Thy bone is all but sheared, thy brain concuss'd, thy ails many. Treating thee in this place poses risk. Infection. Piercing. Sunstroke." Utsuwa would mend the bone, and ensure the lasting damage was purely cosmetic. The faithful deserved game and whole bodies, even if they bore the scars of the world. 'Take heart. 'Tis naught beyond my skill nor means. Yonder and thence doth a domicile stand. I can vouchsafe its derelict, as well its cleanliness. I hath not the adequate tools on hand." A half truth. They did not have the spare wood on hand to build a proper splint or crutch, not enough water ,but they had most everything else. Though not the flame. The rope. The table. Tools they could not carry on their back.

Utsuwa swiftly wrapped any open wounds and the broken leg in bandages. A temporary measure to prevent the bone from shifting, and from detritus entering the wounds. They certainly acted with the confidence of an experienced medic, though the bandages did not soothe pain. If anything, they chafed and irritated the skin.

Assuming their new patient did not resist, Utsuwa made support the patient back onto his foot, aiming to be a support and living crutch, so that he would not put weight on the broken leg. It wasn't ideal, but it would be painful. Even so, Utsuwa would have preferred a stretcher. Something faster than hobbling to even the nearby shack Utsuwa had been using as a way station. "I shalt release thee to thy fellows once the procedures art completed to mine satisfaction. Thy efforts art only needed for a short while, ye heathen. Then thou may rest, while the work is done."

[Ishikawa Ren]

     "Thank you..." he said, grimacing as he stood. Ren tried not to lean too heavily on them, but found it impossible. It took all he had to stop from slumping to the ground. Pain filled his mind, swirling together with the pressure in his head.

     Even if he were in a state to listen clearly, he still would have barely understood a word from Utsuwa's mouth. "Ren," he managed, though he could barely be sure he had said it and not merely thought it. Each step felt a mile. The leaves crunched underfoot, the blurry green above all he could make out. Where are we going?

     Suddenly he was back in his hometown - or, at least, the forests beside it. The only forests he'd ever truly known. Were they heading northeast? The Rōhō'll get you, he remembered the warning went. No. They must be heading west, then, from the border with Hi no Kuni.

     His mind was a jumble of thoughts, utter chaos. He'd broken his leg once before, when he and his friends snuck over the border. Did I? He was young then. Or was it old? When am I? The pain broke through the mess as his foot brushed a raised root. He wanted to yell.

     Up ahead, he could barely make out a wooden structure of some sort - a hunting cabin, maybe? He'd come to know it.

Kyodai Utsuwa | 232 words

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

The hunter's cabin was not a ruin, but rather a place that was simply used infrequently. It did not belong to Utsuwa, but locks were hardly the most stalwart of foes.
"Thine labours shalt soon cease, Ren-dono," The name had been caught, though consciousness seemed tenuous. A boon and a band. It made it simpler to begin the education and treatment, but if the mind was not alert enough, it would all pass into a haze of nothing.

The door was pulled open after Utsuwa shifted Ren's weight. Their body strained under the weight, but it was all worthwhile. The room was, as promised, clean. Or mostly clean - a keen eye would note that had worked its way into the cracks of the wood of the table Utsuwa led Ren to.

"Pray, lay down, and breathe easy," Utsuwa spoke soothingly, guiding Ren to first sit, then to lay down. Moving their broken leg with enough care to prevent damage, but not enough to avoid pain. Their breath quickened under the tengai-gasa. It was not quite trickery, but this was the crucial stage. If Ren became less receptive, more belligerent, this would become complicated. It was too great an opportunity to have this end in mere death.

Once Ren was situated, Utsuwa retreated. The door was closed - then locked and barred with a chair. The tengai-gasa was removed, and set on the counter, along with their pack. Tools were laid out, and, from another room, came the snapping of wood as Utsuwa broke the legs of a chair to serve as splints. Rope from the storeroom hung from their shoulder.

They moved swiftly, taking only a few minutes. "Pray, forgive mine delay." They leaned over Ren, smiling brightly, red eyes wide. They placed their hands on the broken leg, unraveling the crude bandage. "Thy travails wilt come to a swift end, if thou'rt willing."

Utsuwa suddenly twisted the broken limb, serving two purposes. The first was to bring the break together, so that it may be bound and splinted, then knit back together.

The other was to attempt to cause enough pain for Ren to briefly lose consciousness.

[Ishikawa Ren]

     Despite the searing pain, the cool wood felt like the softest bed he'd ever been on after the ordeal to get here. Ren laid his head down and shut his eyes, tried to calm his breathing. Clammy fingers rubbed against each other as he tried to wipe away the sweat, before he gave up, rubbed them on his shirt and set his arms to the sides.

     Part of him wanted to fight his way to his feet, help somehow. Lying here though, didn't feel so bad. He didn't want to return to the pain. The best way he could help Utsuwa was to just try and remain calm, let them work in peace.

     Ren's eyes flitted open as Utsuwa returned to the room, having barely even noticed that they'd left. Their red eyes loomed over him like a pair of blood moons. His face looked contorted, confused for a moment, before forming a light smile. "Yes, willing, thank you," he breathed out as he looked down at his leg.

     He'd not even had time to feel sickened by the sight before the twist sent pain rushing through his body like a tsunami. Slipping away into sleep, Ren's head fell back to the table. It'll all be better when I wake, fixed up. The escorts will be back and we'll return to Amegakure. To home.

Kyodai Utsuwa | 224 words

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

Unconsciousness was a false refuge, but it would give Utsuwa and Ren both time. Time for them to prepare both Ren and their tools. To clean the wounds, and to ensure that Ren was not bleeding too profusely, nor internally. Letting a victim of concussion fall unconscious was risky, but... in the worst case, Utsuwa would simply speed him into oblivion's embrace.

When Ren awoke, a few things had changed. There was a fire in the firepit now, a destroyed chair serving as fuel. Legs of that chair had been bound to his leg in a crude yet effective splint. No cast, but enough to hold the leg together while it healed, or until more formal medical care could be administered.

But there were other, less benign changes.

The removal of Ren's clothing above the waist, as well as his shoes, may not have been too alarming. They were receiving medical aid after all. But the binding of his hands and feet to each leg of the table with tight knots likely was. Any and all weaponry or tools secreted away in pouches had been removed, and set orderly by the door. Far out of reach.

Utsuwa themselves was busying themselves with the fire, turning a poker in the flames. They pulled it out, revealing their medallion, beginning to glow with heat, lashed to the poker with wire. They tilted their head, then returned it to the flames. Their eyes alighted upon the waking Ren, and a delighted smile crossed their features.

"Praise be, thou hast awoken, Ren-dono! The true mending begins anon. As thou wilt." Utsuwa's voice was innocent and joyous, without a drop of malice. They swiftly crossed the distance between them, and gingerly took their scalpel from the counter.

The polished blade and their eyes glimmered in the firelight, eyes roaming across Ren's bound body. "The first lesson cometh in the form of a query: what solitary experience art all those aware of their own life bound to? From mortal to immortal, gods to men, paupers to princes, villains to heroes, babes to elders?" Utsuwa's red eyes searched Ren's.

Were it not for the scalpel hovering over the young man's torso, it may have sounded like an idle riddle or koan.

[Ishikawa Ren]

     The crackling of fire woke him up. Ren glanced over at the fireplace, confused for a moment - very few homes in Amegakure had one, especially not his apartment. The last thing he recalled was the end of the Exams, then a blank spot, until he'd met Utsuwa. He looked at them and shook his head.

     The pain from his leg had faded somewhat, and his head felt much clearer. The makeshift splint caught his eyes. Table legs? Ren looked at the orange glow, saw the remainder of the chair. What kind of a clinic is this? Trying to get up, he groaned as he found his wrists and ankles were bound. His heart skipped a beat as he looked past his chest at Utsuwa.

     Ren let out a cautious laugh. "Sorry," he said. For his own good, he figured. It wasn't uncommon for patients to need to be strapped down. He might hurt himself if he tried to get up. And who was he to judge if they didn't have proper tools, given the situation?

     "Solitary experience?" he mimed, while looking down at the scalpel over his chest. "I'm sorry, is there something else wrong with me?" Perhaps there was some kind of internal bleeding that needed to be... Bloodlet? Their garb was strange enough that he imagined they very well might be from some nation he'd never read about, never heard about. Just because it wasn't what they practiced in Arashi no Kuni didn't make their medicine inferior.

     Or maybe there was some rock or a piece of wood stuck in him. Their questions were probably to distract him. Ren felt more thankful after he thought that. "Hm. Love?"

Kyodai Utsuwa | 280 words

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

The smile took on a sad, almost pitying look. The first question was not answered. There was something wrong with everyone. Especially those outside Jashin's grace. Every heathen was poisoned, and drank more poison to numb the pain. Leading them further and further from salvation. It would almost be laughable, if it weren't so deeply sad.

And such optimism, as well! Clearly a sufferer who had yet to learn the depths of pain their mind was capable of enduring. And the depths it was not.

Their gaze became paternal. Utsuwa slowly shook their head.
"Nay, 'tis not love. Many and more die without knowing love. Infants whose short lives art naught but pain, dying, then death." Their gaze flicked down to the scalpel, as it came to hover a hair above Ren's solar plexus. They looked back to Ren's face, and smiled broadly. "'Tis suffering."

Then they cut.

Shallow cuts, meant to cause pain, to cause bleeding, to give Ren the feeling of a sharp blade threatening to cut grooves into bone. But not to cause lasting harm, nor cause internal bleeding. The only ailment would aid in curing was spiritual. Flesh wounds, precisely aimed to cause pain. Their other hand pressed down on their chest to suppress any thrashing or flinching as they made several short and shallow incisions. Lingering longest in the places that won the most screams.

"Suff'ring binds us together. It shackles us. Drives some to sin. Others to despair. Barbed chains digging through flesh and sinew, soul and spirit." They spoke soothingly, even as they traced nerves and points of pain with a blade. "Canst thou slip chains thou'rt ignorant of?" Utsuwa finally lifted the blade, and shook their head. "To cure thee of thy illness, I must needs first teach thee that thy very soul is diseased." They cupped Ren's face with a bloodied hand. "Art thou ready for the second lesson?"

[Ishikawa Ren]

     The scalpel raked through his flesh like a hoe through dirt. Ren looked down to see blood welling up from his chest; could feel the separation. What the hell! The feeling, and the pain, filled him with cold dread like watching a papercut happening in real-time, seeing the edge slide deeper and deeper through the skin.

     But he wouldn't scream, yet. It was an awful, awful feeling. Ren's teeth clenched and his eyes squeezed shut on their own as he tried to rise off the table, only to be shoved back down into place. Panic started to rise as he realized he was stuck, unable to run away. Gods, how he wanted to run. To turn into stone, like Hotarubi, or to dissolve into a pile of paper and fly away like Akirei.

     His eyes shot open to watch, almost against his own will. "Stop!" he yelled. "This isn't helping me!" Had the words been intelligible? They sounded far away now, dulled as though he had a pillow over his ears. A sound shriller than words was there too, louder and clearer when Utsuwa dug the blade in particular spots.

     Ren's chest heaved, his heart pounding away in his ribcage like someone was inside, trying to bust their way out. His black eyes were like a rabbit's, large and dilated in the dark of the cabin, the only reflections orange and red. Utsuwa loomed overhead, questioning. The cutting had ceased.

     There was something hidden in the back of his mind, like a word on the tip of his tongue. An understanding, or a realization. But it was buried so deep, so long ago. Suffering? He'd made someone suffer, not too long ago. Was it because he had been suffering? Is that what they meant? He tried to relay that to them, to make it stop, because he had the correct answer, but all he thought he heard was gibberish.

     A bloody hand cupped his face. Ren mouthed No.

Susanō Akirei | 328 words

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"I am helping thee. Thou shalt understand, in time," Utsuwa said pleasantly, even as they cut and carved. Their voice soothing, while their hands tortured. They had not understood at first, either. It took time. Much time. And blood. "Fear not. If thou canst bear it no longer, merely offer up thine whole self unto Jashin-sama."

Would they have enough time before Ren's fellows followed their trail? They did not have time for such banal considerations. Not when a soul in such dire need was within their grasp, beneath their knife. They needed to be efficient. To cause enough pain to fracture Ren's sanity, so that it could be healed. But not so much that they became insensate.

The mouthed 'no' won another slightly sad smile. It brightened after a breath. "Then shalt we repeat the first," It wasn't a question. They walked away from the table, allow the wounds a chance to breathe, to linger. The dull ache was no replacement for the piercing incision, but allowing the subject time to understand what was happening, and why was of vital importance. If subjected to constant, unending torment, the body and mind shut down. Patience. Always patience.

The dread of pain was important as well. Ren needed to be taught just how terrible the world could be, so they would desire salvation from it. To shatter the illusions which made safe his corrupted soul.

Then walked a meandering path, allowing their bare footsteps to be heard, planks creaking beneath their feet. The makeshift brand was extracted from the fire, the tip now glowing a brilliant orange. Utsuwa smiled at the sight. Ah, that their icon would be used in such a way. It almost brought them to tears.

They returned, their steps slow. The triangle-and-circle medallion was held in front of them, so that Ren could see it. See the air shimmer around the blazing brand. "What experience art all souls bound to?" Back to the beginning, this time with a different tool.

A pattern was beginning to emerge.

[Ishikawa Ren]

     No! Ren shut his eyes. The blade was just above him, he knew, inching closer every second. He squeezed harder. It tormented him. Why had it not cut into him? When he knew it was approaching, the wait between bouts was worse than the pain.

     The dread was too much to bear. Ren's eyes snapped open, but there was no knife - only the blood dripping down his sides like candle wax. His heart was the fire. Utsuwa pulled the brand from the blaze. The fire inside seemed to sputter out. Eyes shut. His nails clawed at the table. Ren wanted to put his hands together, form a prayer to some god he'd never known.

     Their voice called out across the room, the words like ripples on a pond. What experience? Why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this? No one deserved this. I should have stayed home. I should have never become a Shinobi. A home of full of bad memories would be better than this. Bad experiences. What experience?

     "Yes, gods, yes!" he lied. "It's suffering - I offer myself, please," stop. He would say, he would do, whatever it took. He'd never been so afraid. 'What are you afraid of?' said a voice he'd never heard.

Kyodai Utsuwa | 212 words

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

Utsuwa sighed in disappointment. The disappointment of a parent who had caught their child in a lie, the teacher presented with a poor excuse.
"Nay, thou doth not. Yet shackled to thy pride. To thy flesh. To thy blasphemy." Maybe Utsuwa was wrong. Maybe Ren had truly already seen the light, but they did not even know how to offer their soul, their self. They had to be taught the words. The reason. The ritual. More than a sliver of the suffering that Jashin opposed. "Be thee liar or supplicant true, thou hath greater depths to plumb ere thee ascend to glorious heights. Take heart - thy suff'ring wilt end, once thou'rt ready." Utsuwa moved closer, slowly thrusting the brand towards Ren's face. So that he could see the heated iron. Feel the blistering heat. To understand, and dread, what was coming.

It would breed hate, and resentment at first. Hate for them. For Jashin. For his own life. But hate was a poor defense against benevolence. Against pure, unadulterated pain.

"The second lesson is this:" Despite his pleas, the lesson continued. The brand was withdrawn, then poised over Ren's chest. His heart. "Can the human spirit endure all suffering?" No hints this time. If Ren was truly willing to offer himself to Jashin, the answer was obvious.

The brand was pressed into Ren. To brand his mind, body, and soul with the mark of Jashin. Not as expansive as Utsuwa's own brand, but it was a start.

The brand was only withdrawn once the flesh had been thoroughly burnt and seared, to ensure the scars would never fade. Utsuwa would then return it to the flame, and observe Ren, waiting for him to answer, and for him to accept this newest revelation of reality. It wasn't the greatest pain they knew how to inflict. But heat was pure, in its own way.

[Ishikawa Ren]

     There was no reprieve - no running away. His arms felt like they should have broken in two long ago as every muscle in his body expanded and contracted to the max against his restraints. When the brand was finally lifted, his voice was hoarse and all his strength gone. "Why..." he croaked, to no-one in particular.

     'Defeatism', said the voice. It came from some growing expanse within, he thought. Where? Whose voice? He looked down at the brand, the new part of his being, smoking. Weak! another yelled. That one, he recognized but couldn't place. Himself, or his father? You have to face it! No more running away. Fight.

     Ren raised his head at Utsuwa, glowered at them with angry black eyes. The word shot out of his mouth like venom. "Yes." But not with your help, or Jashin's, or anyone's - only myself. Fire pumped through his veins, his blood boiling and screaming.

     You are a little soul carrying about a corpse. What they did to his body could not affect him. He wouldn't let it. They didn't have the power to change who he was. Ren flexed his hand, hidden from Utsuwa's sight by his leg. There has to be something, he thought. Crumbs of the ration pill, in my pocket - something!

Kyodai Utsuwa | 211 words