❔ | spirits in my head

[ghostfinch]

A collection of posts for Yoshinobu, stored here for safe-keeping and in case of time ********>  

[ghostfinch]

Brilliancy, the tutor had explained with lipstick stuck on her teeth, was an unexpected move that put the enemy at an extreme disadvantage. Victory, she had said while leaning in far too close, was something that made the greats in history so great. Their wit was peerless and that was why they succeeded. He could, too, be peerless and victorious, if only he would focus during her lessons and learn the importance of chess.

He couldn't care less.

Yoshiaki didn't care about chess or any of the other bullshit Father wanted for him. These lessons were boring and completely useless in the real world. What was the purpose of money if it only bought you terrible wastes of time? He wanted to use their wealth to have fun. A stuffy chess lesson was nothing compared to the clubs in the city, but his parents thought that kind of behavior was for street rats instead of young heirs.

His eyes were damn near glazed over as his tutor carried on with this enamored speech about historical figures he had also not listened about in his history lessons. His vest was scratchy, his hair gel was sticky, and he couldn't remember the last time he smiled. His family kept him so trapped inside for his own safety that he felt like he would be an empty, educated sack by the end of the year. Surely, a boring man would be a terrible contribution to the family image, far more than a less-educated adventurer, right?

"Yoshinobu."

The Miyamoto lifted his head, turning to see the barista looming over his table with bags under her eyes. "Y-yeah," he startled, "thanks." He accepted the cup of coffee and stared at the cream poured on top as the barista left. It was probably meant to be a design, but it was just a designless blob.

"It kind of looks like a cat," the officer across from him offered. She had her hands folded on the table, no longer bothering to hold the pen for her paper pad since nothing he'd said all morning had been helpful for her investigation about the trafficking he was desperately trying to put behind him.

The blob of cream in his coffee didn't look like a cat at all. He didn't want to argue about it, but he could see her face fall in his peripheral when he didn't perk up at her suggestion. "What do you think it looks like?" She tried again.

He gave a small shrug motion without lifting his eyes, though he could see the way she deflated anyways. She had tried all morning to forge a connection with him, to get an 'in' so that the APD could get more information. He didn't know anything. It was all stuck in his head all weird. He rejected all but the most rudimentary and non-invasive medical screenings, but they were desperate for more knowledge. "It doesn't look like anything."

"Everything looks like something," she insisted. "C'mon, what's it look like?"

He sighed. The two of them were at a stalemate. She was going to keep pushing him for more, and he was going to keep rejecting her attempts to forge a connection with him. His only salvation was that neither of them were in danger, and he wouldn't need to use any of his abilities. He hadn't cast a single jutsu in Yoshiaki's body once it became clear he possessed neither his skills as a Miyamoto nor the sealing prowess of an Uzumaki.

The blob didn't look like a cat. It didn't look like much of anything. It was comforting to look at because Yoshinobu felt the exact same way. He was floating these days. He never felt grounded anymore. The blob summoned an image he had never witnessed himself. It was a belonging of Yoshiaki's. It looked like the lipstick smudge on his tutor's teeth. It looked like a relic of a life Yoshinobu had never experienced but was continually haunted by. He didn't know what to make of any of Yoshiaki's experiences, things he shouldn't have been privy to in this way. He couldn't interrogate the memories, couldn't grab the ethereal dreams and examine them. He just had to take what they gave him when they came, which was often and without warning.

He couldn't say it looked like the smudge. He couldn't say it looked like nothing. If Yoshinobu Miyamoto had ready access to his own memories, he surely would have recognized the smudge as looking like something. He needed to give an answer. He couldn't afford to raise suspicion. He stared at her. "It looks like a birthmark."

"A birthmark?"

"Yeah."

If the officer intended to look neutral about this information, she was failing hard. Her interest was hard to contain. She fidgeted in her seat, picked up her pen again. "What do you mean? What kind of birthmark? One you've seen recently?"

Yoshinobu hid his smirk by looking down at the coffee cup again. The cream was being consumed by the coffee as they spoke. "Yeah," he said softly. "At the trade." The officer began doodling the cream on his coffee cup. He began to spin her a tale she wanted to hear, filled with voice cracks and strategic silence, detailed language about uninteresting things, because trauma made people either forget or hyperfixate on details and he couldn't control the narrative if he was forgetful. He sang like a canary about things that never happened.

By the time the officer had several pages of information, the cream had been consumed by the coffee entirely, turning the entire drink into a lukewarm pool of light brown. "Thank you for your cooperation, Yoshi."

His face fell at the nickname, but she didn't notice, already up on her feet and placing ryo on the table. She was out the door, but Yoshinobu wasn't sitting at the table anymore. He looked down at his coffee and could still picture the smudge of his tutor's lipstick, remembering how exhausting her lesson was. He was consumed with the stress of his family name, no longer in the mind space of someone who had just given the APD a red herring.

Brilliancy, indeed.

 

[ghostfinch]

Let it go. That was the advice he always got. Here in the temple, Yoshinobu heard the voices of everyone who wanted to give advice to him without understanding. It was hard to accept that. He had fostered some support, but everyone seemed determined to sway him against his goals. No one wanted him to investigate this thing to its end. He wanted to know what all the flickering of memories were doing to him. He couldn't pretend it wasn't happening.

He sighed deeply as he helped prepare the celestial mud for fellow Daoists. No one in the sect here at this specific temple shared a belief with Zelel, too, so Yoshinobu couldn't really break bread over scripture with these people. He felt isolated by it, despite being in a place of worship that should have felt like home. He felt haunted by it. He couldn't tell if he was pursuing these things out of habit, or if it's what he wanted. What he believed in. He could never tell if the things he did were from Yoshiaki or Yoshinobu. If it was from someone else entirely. It was hard to put together who he was when the puzzle was technically intact - he just couldn't see the picture the pieces made. It made him feel stupid, and useless, and confused.

Yoshinobu listened as two of the Daoists beside him talked about bribes. He strained his ears as he mixed the celestial mud for someone who asked to pay penitence today. The two Daoists weren't talking about the corruption of bribes. They were the corruption taking bribes. Yoshinobu's self-concerned thoughts washed away instantly. It didn't matter who he was or where the thought came from. He wasn't going to let these fools corrupt the faith. The Daoists were all so kind, even those that didn't share his faith in Zelel. He couldn't let these rotten apples ruin the bunch. He looked at his hands covered in the celestial mud and tried to stop grinding his teeth.

It was pathetic that these people were letting the less-informed members of the faith go into debt. It went against the tenets. Beyond that, it was immoral. He couldn't imagine taking advantage of someone's faith. He wanted to break their necks. He imagined pulling his blade and helping them meet their maker. He thought that kind of instant judgement would fix things. But he also couldn't. Unnecessary violence was unnecessary violence. No, the threat of pain could solve things. He walked up to the two Daoists and clapped heavy hands on each of their shoulders as he leaned his head in between both of theirs. He whispered a few choice words, let one of their gaze's trail down to his waist to where his katana rested. He waited a few moments for his threats to connect. Then, he squeezed their shoulders and moved on with his day, leaving celestial mud on them for their penitence.

[ Inquisitor - final title // Daoism - final title ]

 

[ghostfinch]

After his interrogations had revealed some satisfactory answers for the APD, his superiors decided he needed to find some easy work to do. They gave him an easy mission. It was designed to ease him into the shinobi world again after being trafficked. It was no nonsense. Only an idiot could ******** it up. All he had to do was travel to the forest just outside of Arashigakure, recently grounded, and find the disturbance. He didn't even have to interact with it. The nature of it was purely auditory, with no visual reporting of any kind. It was likely some kids ******** around in the trees. Or, perhaps, wild animals running amuck. Yoshinobu would posture that it was a new noise because Arashigakure's recent grounding meant the animals and flora around the hole in the ground had become disturbed the village's return. It seemed like a foolish errand and a waste of time, but he would take the easy work.

He travelled in the early afternoon. The sounds came all throughout the night, so that's what he had to wait for. He focused on feeling attuned with nature, having practiced with the rabbits as a sage. However, he could almost hear Gran Gran considering how he wasn't attuned with himself. The hypocrisy of it would bother her, though she'd never degrade him. He shook his head to shake the train of thought away. He couldn't afford to hide in his head for this mission. It would only hinder him.

The forest turned and curved and curled into a dark path. The trees above blocked his vision of the stars, though chunks of moonlight made it through and lit his path. He didn't startle when branches would crackle around him. No, it made him feel safe. He ran with prey as a sage to the rabbits; it was when the forest was dead silent that there was danger. He moved unhindered by the occasional noises. He waited for the loudness that could have permeated from deep in the forest outward to its smallest clearings. What could the civilians in the village have been complaining about?

He did find a clearing. There were twelve stones in a circle. He looked to his left, then his right, but there was nothing around. The forest was silent. The air was so thick it seemed to slow his steps as he walked into the middle of it. He looked down to find a rabbit's print. At the same time he saw it, an indescribable voice filled his head: feeling lucky? He turned on his heel, but no one was behind him.

His breathing picked up, but he tried to remind himself to relax. It was okay. If it was a threat, he could handle it. But it wasn't a threat. He was being played with. He considered the paw print in the ground. It was shaped like a rabbit's. None of his summons would have done this, though. They didn't leave the burrow this far. Not without the protection of their summoner. No one alive bore the weight of the contract besides himself. Something else entirely, then?

He didn't know what kind of rabbit - which wasn't a summon - would be capable of making enough noise this deep in the forest to disturb villagers. He had likely done enough work for his mission to be considered complete, though it would absolutely warrant further investigation. But he didn't want to leave. He felt compelled to stay.

He felt compelled to play.

This had to be a game. The words in his head couldn't have been a coincidence. Hell, they could have been whispers from ghosts in his head - something of a previous life or a fragmented memory he couldn't quite grasp. He was willing to see this through to the end, because he had to be if he wanted answers.

He walked around the circle and gathered all the rocks. They were small, so he had a decent pile on his arm and against his chest. The paw print had been pressed in the middle, and the question had asked if he was feeling lucky. How did one play a game of luck with rocks? He wondered if the game was something else - something meta; his presence here was the game and he was playing by sticking around.

He didn't know much about cosmic luck, or chance, or anything. He just knew s**t happened, and he had to deal with it. The only thing that came to mind when he thought of luck was dice. He started tossing the stones in the formation of the sixth side. He did this twice, once to the left to the paw print and once to the right, figuring two six-sided dice made for a lot of luck. If nothing else, it moved the stones and satisfied him in some small way. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. He shrugged and stood by the paw print again, willing to accept that he couldn't solve this case - not yet, anyways.

But then the ground rumbled. And a white rabbit with black antlers appeared before him so quickly, he blinked and missed it, but he captured the green trail of chakra behind him as he suddenly arrived before Yoshinobu. In the instance after his arrival, the sound of his travel finally hit, creating a sonic boom that shook all the trees and forced Yoshinobu to take several steps back, hands coming to his ears belatedly to protect them from the sound of the sound barrier being destroyed. It took a couple of seconds for Yoshinobu to right himself and allow the vertigo to settle.

"Who are you?"

'Who are you?'

"Oh, I'm not playing this game. I'm gonna call you Percy."