The So-Called Way of the Ninja

As he walked along the streets of Kirigakure, Kanna looked around with a hint of curiosity.

The Land of Water was built on a vast island in the boundless sea, one comparable in size to a continent. So compared with Konohagakure, which sat on a plain and flourished in prosperity, Kirigakure's environment was much harsher. Mountains and hills were everywhere, with rows of barrel-shaped buildings nestled among them. Bridges connected the buildings for easier passage, and artificially cultivated plants clung to the walls of their gray-brown exteriors, adding at least a little vitality to the village.

Kanna's family was crossing one of those bridges. It stood around thirty or forty meters above the ground. Kanna merely glanced down, but immediately felt dizzy and quickly looked away.

Kanna Tokiomi noticed his fear of heights. Frowning, he gave an displeased snort and quickened his pace.

As the child of two elite shinobi, Kanna was destined to fight as a "ninja" in the future. How could he possibly be afraid of heights? Seeing Kanna like this filled Tokiomi with frustration. He couldn't help thinking that his son was so useless he was making a fool of him.

Who was he, Kanna Tokiomi? The Mizukage Aide, the village's second- or third-most important figure. By that measure, Kanna's status was only a little lower than that of the future protagonist, Uzumaki Naruto. His parents were both the cream of the crop, but from what Kanna had shown so far, he seemed to have inherited none of their strengths. Instead, he was more timid than most children his age.

Kanna Morishita Mai sighed and silently took Kanna's hand. Without a word, she followed behind her husband with Kanna.

Along the way, shinobi who knew Kanna Tokiomi saw his foul mood and merely bowed respectfully from a distance. Morishita Mai smiled in return, at least ensuring no outsiders witnessed the Mizukage Aide making a fool of himself.

The three of them returned home without a word. After opening the door and stepping into the entryway, the first thing Kanna noticed was a painting hanging above him.

A burly samurai stood against the wind, his long hair billowing. He gripped a gleaming sword in his right hand, a yellow tassel hanging from its hilt, while his left held the scabbard. With a fierce glare, he lunged forward and swung down, as if ready to cut down anyone who entered the house.

What a strange painting. Usually, the entryway was decorated with something meant to welcome guests. What did it mean to hang a painting of someone "cutting down" visitors?

Kanna quietly made a note of it. Everything in this world was new to him, and anything that caught his interest was worth noticing. This painting clearly had some unusual meaning, even if he couldn't figure out what it was.

After changing his shoes in the entryway, Kanna stepped into his "home" proper. It was a tatami room, and behind the sliding doors hung a calligraphy scroll bearing the words, "Neither coming nor going, neither death nor life." On the eastern wall of the main room was another inscription: "Only the center remains."

If the old "Kanna" hadn't understood what these words meant at all, the current Kanna could at least make out their literal meaning.

"Neither coming nor going, neither death nor life" had to be understood in conjunction with "Only the center remains." Its meaning could be summed up in four words: hold fast to your heart.

This was a Buddhist idea: everything in the world was empty, with no change between birth and death. By understanding all things, one could grasp every principle. Nothing was gained or lost; nothing came or went; neither death nor life—only the "center" remained, only the "self" remained.

Though he didn't fully understand it, Kanna could still sense that his cheap father carried a heavy burden. Otherwise, he wouldn't have hung these two sayings up as mottos, reminders to himself at every moment.

Looking at it another way, Kanna Tokiomi's cultivation clearly hadn't reached that level. Otherwise, he wouldn't be troubled by worldly things, much less angered by his son's performance in the graduation exam.

Holding fast to one's heart was easy to say, but how difficult it was to do. For a ninja, holding fast to one's heart meant remaining true to one's way of the ninja and never sinking into despair because of any setback. Madara Uchiha had been invincible throughout the first half of his life, his might renowned across the entire Shinobi World, yet he came to a sudden realization in the final moments of his life and bitterly regretted everything. Then there was Uchiha Obito, whose way of the ninja nearly crumbled after Naruto spoke to him. They were classic examples of people who had lost their hearts.

Even turning back from the sea of suffering meant "change"! It meant "loss"! Someone who truly held fast to their heart had to be stubborn—even pathologically convinced—that they were right, restraining themselves with their "heart" at every moment and remaining unmoved by external things. To put it crudely: even if the facts proved I was wrong, that was just an illusion. I wasn't the one who was wrong; the world was.

So it really is a case of becoming a demon or becoming a Buddha. I heard that the founder of this world, the Sage of Six Paths, was a monk too. I wonder what his "heart" was. To govern the world and keep this land peaceful forever? Kanna thought silently.

The Sage of Six Paths' mother, Otsutsuki Kaguya, had once tried to create a dream world, drawing all of humanity into it and ushering them into their most beautiful dreams. As Madara put it, she wanted to "make it so there was no more illusion or evil in the world." In a way, wasn't that a good thing too?

And the Sage of Six Paths had protected humanity, done what was right even at the cost of his own family, fought his birth mother, and ultimately sealed her away, destroying her dream of remaking the old world. Wasn't that even more clearly right?

So who, exactly, was wrong?

Neither was wrong. The world was wrong.

The two calligraphy scrolls, with their twelve characters, sent Kanna into a long period of reflection. He was so distracted that even at the dinner table he seemed absent-minded.

Ninja, ninja—it wasn't enough to simply know how to fight. One had to find one's own way of the ninja, know what one was pursuing and what one was standing by, and understand what was right and wrong for oneself. If someone didn't understand these things, what did it matter if they attained the power of the Six Paths? In the end, they would meet the same fate as Obito.

What should I do? Why do I exist? Kanna turned these questions over and over in his mind, mechanically picking up food and eating. In Kanna Tokiomi's eyes, this made him seem even more wooden and lacking in spirit.

"Phew." Kanna Tokiomi let out a long breath, put down his bowl, and fixed Kanna with a piercing stare.

Under his father's glare, Kanna immediately felt uneasy and snapped out of his thoughts. He stared back blankly.

"Finished eating?" Kanna Tokiomi asked coolly, his face stiff. "Then come to my room."

"You two should talk more," Morishita Mai began, but her husband was ultimately the one in charge of the household, so she could only say, "Listen to your father."

"I understand." Kanna didn't object. He obediently followed his father into his room.

There were no other decorations in Kanna Tokiomi's room, only a calligraphy scroll, just as Kanna had expected. It bore a single character: "Divine."

This "divine" did not mean a deity from ancient mythology or a god from Taoism. It meant the "divine" in "only the center remains" (the "center" above referred to the heart), the "divine" of one's true heart, the "divine" of one's vital energy and spirit. It could be understood as will, the way of the ninja, and so on.

Many shinobi had a habit of hanging calligraphy in their rooms. Some hung the character for "Zen," others "忍"; words with deep meanings, like "way," "heart," and "self," were also popular with shinobi. There was nothing unusual about Kanna Tokiomi hanging the character for "divine."

Kanna Tokiomi's room was also tatami-floored. As soon as they entered, Tokiomi naturally sat cross-legged beneath the character "Divine," then gave a slight nod. "Sit."

From the memories in his mind, Kanna knew his family was strict about manners. So when his father invited him to sit, he did so without hesitation. He sat cross-legged like Tokiomi, then met his gaze without trying to avoid it.

Tokiomi gave a quiet nod. His son had inadvertently shown a shinobi's bearing unlike anything he'd displayed before, which left him rather pleased.

"Tell me, what exactly happened to you three months ago? I heard that Momochi Zabuza killed everyone there except you. You're the only survivor and the sole witness to the incident. Give me a proper account of what happened then."