Voices in the Dark (Hibiki, Dogen)

An endless forest stretched in all directions, bathed in pale moonlight. From his vantage point on the cliff, the boy could hear the rustling of countless leaves below, the trees that were once so imposing now distant and small. The wind carried the scent of wild flowers and damp earth. A familiar and comforting aroma. But over the call of owls and the buzzing insects, the Singer's voice drowned out everything else.

He had never met the woman who sang for him each evening. Their conversations were brief. Shallow observations about the weather. Sincere praise for her performances. Questions that never received direct answers. But despite the hollowness of it all, the boy treasured these moments more than any he had with his clan. Here, there were no screams echoing from the interrogation chambers. No iron scent of blood clinging to his robes. No scrutinizing eyes tracking his every movement. His every failure.

In the forest, he could play with the beasts who were always eager to learn the life of a human. He could pluck sweet berries that burst in his mouth. He could feel the cool grass beneath his feet. And the Singer would perform just for him, her voice washing away the weight of his destiny.

Did the boy love her? Perhaps, in a very juvenile way. He loved what she represented. Freedom, kindness, a world beyond both duty and cruelty. She made him feel valued as a person rather than a tool. But it was a shallow affection, the kind a child nurtures for a favorite performer or role model. He knew nothing about her. Not her history, not her face, not even her name.

But even so. If she bothered to spend every night singing for him... Surely that meant she cared. And people that cared for him was something the boy had scarcely known.

"Ms. Singer..." His voice wavered slightly in the cool air. "Your voice is as beautiful as always... But I want to see you. Even just once. You can see me too, can't you? Surely you're curious, just as I am?"

The singing stopped abruptly, like a needle torn from a record. The boy tensed as the air grew heavy and suffocating. For an instant, he felt eyes burning into the back of his skull. Hungry, desperate.

Afraid.

"Promise me, boy..." The Singer's voice came from directly behind him now. No longer distant and ethereal.

"Never look back."

The boy did not listen.

He turned, and everything went dark.

Hibiki tumbled from his hammock as consciousness yanked him from the nightmare, his shoulder slamming against the wooden floor with a dull thud. For several long moments he could only gasp, his breathing ragged and his heart hammering against his ribs. The familiar scent of salt and aged timber slowly grounded him, reminding him where he was. Not in the forest. Not bleeding on the ground outside his clan's compound. He was on a ship, bound for the Land of the Moon.

He was safe.

He climbed to his feet slowly, nursing his bruised shoulder. The same nightmare came to him every night, or variations of it. Sometimes he climbed the cliff only to be met with claws. Other times he spoke with the Singer before being mauled. None of them matched what had truly happened. His memories of that night were fragmented and incomplete, too disjointed to easily parse. But they were close enough to leave him shaking each morning.

The creaking of wood and the distant crash of waves greeted him as he steadied himself. Even after nearly a week aboard the vessel, he had grown no more accustomed to the constant swaying. His stomach churned unpleasantly, and he took a slow breath to settle it. Today was the scheduled arrival date. If fortune favored him, he would only have to endure the nausea for a few more hours.

Hibiki made his way across the small cabin toward his dresser, each footstep deliberate. The soft sound of his bare feet against wood echoed back to him, painting a mental map of the room. His clan's sensory techniques had never been designed to replace vision - they were meant for eavesdropping on conversations miles away, for detecting lies through quickened heartbeats and subtle shifts in breathing. But compared to floundering in the darkness, they served well enough for navigation.

He dressed methodically, pulling on his robes and changing the bandages wrapped around his eyes, before adorning his usual blindfold. The small metal plates embedded in the heels of his boots clicked sharply against the floor as he slipped them on, the crisper sound giving him a wider and more precise sense of his surroundings. Standing before the door, he paused with his hand limp on the handle. A long exhale escaped him before he placed both index fingers at the corners of his mouth, pulling them upward into a grin.

"Don't forget to smile..." His voice held a hollow edge, but the grin remained fixed as he lowered his hands and opened the door.

The lower decks bustled with activity as Hibiki navigated the narrow corridors. It was an impressive vessel - far larger than the sleek scouting ships his clan favored when operating near the Land of Water, and equipped with amenities that had the other recruits constantly expressing their gratitude for being selected by Getsugakure. Hibiki was accustomed to far more comfortable conditions, and the ship's motion still left him queasy, but he appreciated small luxuries. The presence of a ninja capable of Water Release meant hot showers and clean laundry were possible at sea, things Hibiki had been very anxious about when he first learned he would be traveling by boat to reach the Land of the Moon.

He kept close to the wall as he walked, yielding space to other recruits moving through the halls. He could sense their heads turn to look after him as he passed, before having a muttered conversation Hibiki wished he could have ignored. He had attempted to befriend several of the younger recruits early in the voyage, employing the social engineering tactics drilled into him during his clan's lectures. Unfortunately, he'd made the mistake of mentioning his family name. An older recruit, a Genin, had recognized the Otanashi clan name immediately and fled to his cabin, refusing to emerge when Hibiki was nearby. Since then, Hibiki had been less eager to introduce himself, spending most of his time alone on the upper deck or in the company of his teacher.

The stairs leading topside brought him into warm sunlight and fresh air. Hibiki's smile widened a fraction as the breeze washed over him, carrying the sharp scent of salt and seaweed. He had grown fond of the upper deck - initially because the proximity to the ocean's edge made it convenient when his nausea overwhelmed him, but now because the stimulation of sun and wind was far more pleasant than the dank, enclosed lower decks.

Finding Dogen among the sailors and anxious recruits was simple enough. The scratch of quill on parchment and the man's steady, measured breathing stood out against the ambient noise. Hibiki followed the sound to the ship's bow, where Dogen sat writing in a leather-bound book, occasionally pausing as if to observe the horizon before returning to his notes.

Hibiki positioned himself at the railing beside his teacher, turning towards the older man as he spoke. "Good morning, Dogen-sensei! I hope you slept well!"

"...Otanashi." The response was curt. "I slept as well as one can in these conditions."

It was neither warm nor cold. A professional, almost clinical, statement of fact rather than an invitation for conversation. Hibiki had grown accustomed to Dogen's disinterest over the past week. The monk rarely engaged beyond necessity, his attention fixed on his research or the spiritual wards he maintained aboard the ship. Still, Hibiki found him a preferable conversation partner to the other recruits - most of them were Genin, and as such were older than the boy. At least Dogen was guaranteed to be a person he would be talking with regularly, as his future teacher.

"We should be arriving at port soon, shouldn't we?" Hibiki kept his tone bright, undeterred by the lukewarm reception. "I'm looking forward to seeing the Village Hidden in the Moon. Ah, I mean experiencing it, I suppose. You mentioned the island exports unusual goods?"

"Primarily medicinal herbs and spiritual artifacts. Occasionally fish, when the haul is in excess of the village's needs." Dogen's quill continued scratching across the page as he spoke in a disinterested monotone. "The Land of the Moon has always been a focal point for the esoteric. Ritual components, rare ingredients for medicines, exotic beasts... Merchants pay handsomely for what grows naturally on the island."

"Wow! Cool! My clan dealt mostly in information brokering, so I'm not very familiar with the trade of physical goods. Though I suppose information is a commodity as well, in its own way." Hibiki tilted his head thoughtfully. "Uncle Takeshi once told me that the right secret, sold at the right time, to the right client, is worth more than a fortress. Of course, he also tried to poison my tea when I was nine and was executed via waist chop, so his wisdom should perhaps be taken with a grain of salt."

The scratching of Dogen's quill paused. Hibiki could feel the weight of the monk's attention shift toward him, though the man said nothing. After a moment, the writing resumed.

"Your clan's methods are... thorough," Dogen said finally, his tone carefully neutral.

"Yep! There aren't many better at getting information out of a target." Hibiki's smile remained pleasant, conversational. "Though I was never very good at the interrogation side of things. I think that's partly why they were so eager to send me awa-"

"The flute you carry," Dogen said, abruptly changing the subject. "How did you acquire it?"

Hibiki paused at the sudden shift in the conversation, and his hand moved unconsciously to the instrument secured at his hip. His fingers traced its smooth surface delicately, the wood disturbingly cold to the touch and sapping his heat. "It was a... gift. I think. From the forest, after my accident." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I was attacked by a beast. I don't remember much of it. But when I woke up, I was at the edge of my family's compound with this flute beside me. I assume the singer I had been visiting must have fought off the creature and left it as an... apology? I don't know if that's the right word. Something for my eyes."

"A generous gift." There was something in Dogen's voice. Not quite skepticism, but a subtle edge that suggested he knew more than he was revealing. And since recruiting him, it was the first time Dogen seemed interested in what Hibiki had to say. "And you've used it since then?"

"A few times, yes. It can cast people into Genjutsu if I play the right tunes, and when I play it summons something. A spirit or something similar bound to the flute, I think. I... haven't fully explored what it can do." Hibiki's expression grew more subdued. "I've been somewhat afraid to, if I'm being honest. A-ah, please don't mark points off me though! I know shinobi shouldn't fear anything, but it's, uhm..."

Dogen was quiet for a long moment, his quill motionless against the page as he contemplated what Hibiki said. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a clinical quality. "Binding contracts with spiritual entities are rarely simple. Many Ninja enter into one or two - some specialists even form contracts with entire clans of animals. The flute likely serves as an anchor. A physical tether for something so it may come when called upon. You would do well to understand exactly what you've entered into agreement with."

"Is that why you recruited me?" Hibiki asked, curiosity seeping into his voice. "Because of the flute?"

"Partially." Dogen closed his journal with a soft thud. "I was in the region investigating reports of malevolent spiritual activity near the Land of Rice Fields. Your incident aligned with the disturbances I was tracking. A binding contract formed under such circumstances is worth observing. And the Moon Academy can always use students with unique circumstances."

"A-aren't you... concerned? I don't know what it is, but I don't know how benevolent it is... What if it eats the other students?" Hibiki's voice wavered slightly, his smile more strained than usual.

"I have no fear. I doubt it will be very effective against any of the faculty - especially if it is reliant on a child to summon it."

Dogen turned back to his book, and began writing again. Before Hibiki could comment, he continued.

"And, suppose it does turn feral? I will simply eat it."

Hibiki didn't respond, and the conversation died there. An awkward silence dominated the air around the two for a dozen or so minutes, only punctuated by Dogen's writing and the occasional tap of Hibiki's heel on the ground when he wanted to scan the area.

"Land ho!" The shout from the crow's nest finally granted the boy mercy. "Moon Island, dead ahead!"

Excited murmurs rippled through the recruits gathered on deck. Hibiki turned towards the front of the ship, where the island was likely on the horizon. He couldn't see it, but he could feel the anticipation in the air, the way the energy aboard ship had shifted from tedium to an anxious excitement.

"Play your flute, Otanashi-kun." Dogen's voice held a note of something that might have been curiosity. "Let's see what you've bound yourself to."

Hibiki hesitated, but his hand moved automatically to the instrument at his side. Years of obeying the words of his superiors blindly had ingrained subservience deep into him.

"Are you sure, Dogen-sensei?"

"The entity is tied to you through contract. It likely cannot harm you without breaking its own binding, casting it back to where it came from. And I am here to intervene if necessary." There was a pause. "Consider it your first lesson. A shinobi must understand their tools completely."

Hibiki seemed reluctant, but did as he was ordered. Drawing the flute slowly, the boy brought it to his lips. The wood felt cold against his skin. Almost like kissing a corpse. He took a breath, then began to play.

The melody that emerged was not one he had consciously chosen. It flowed from some instinctive place, haunting and beautiful. The same kind of song he had heard echoing from the cliff. Around him, the ambient noise of the ship seemed to fade. Sailors' conversations growing distant, the crash of waves muted. A genjutsu. One that would prevent the pair from hearing the others and, more importantly, prevent them from hearing the pair.

Soon, the air grew heavy with presence.

Hibiki could feel it manifesting behind him. Something large and powerful, watching him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. The same presence from his dream, the one he felt before his vision was torn from him. He forced himself to keep playing, to maintain the melody even as his heart raced. The entity made no sound, no movement. Even with his Sensory Arts, it was difficult for Hibiki to judge its outline - something vaguely in the shape of a wolf, but larger and with crude growths or tendrils from the side of its face. Like something trying to cram itself into the shape of a wolf, but was doing a very poor job.

Luckily, Dogen was right. It made no move to approach him or any of the other passengers, all of whom seemed oblivious to its presence. It simply observed him as he played his gifted melody.

When the song ended, Hibiki lowered the flute slowly. The presence slowly faded with the music, until empty air was all that stood in its place.

"Hmpf." Dogen muttered, and Hibiki could hear the monk shifting position, climbing to his feet so he could more easily leave the boat once it docked at port. "It was not as interesting as I had thought. Well, at least you have no reason to be afraid, yes Otanashi? You summoned the creature, and it did nothing to harm you or those around you."

Hibiki clicked his heels together, and saw that Dogen was right. The conversation amongst the crew and recruits were about the island, or their previous lives before coming to the Land of the Moon. None of them were even looking towards the pair, as if they hadn't seen the beast. The genjutsu that had been cast concealed the creature.

Dogen nodded his head, clapping a hand on the boy's back a few times as he passed him.

"Do well in the academy - understood, Otanashi? If this year's batch of students is as promising as Myorin-sensei leads me to believe, then that beast will prove an inconvenience to them at best. Better to refine your own talents as a shinobi than rely on a crutch."

And with that, Dogen walked away, joining the growing crowd that formed around the gangway. Hibiki angled his head down, as if to look at the flute in his hands. Why did the singer give it to him? And how strong was she, if she defeated the beast that had taken Hibiki's vision and forced it to serve his call? Hibiki had assumed her to be a shinobi of some kind, to survive the woods filled with wild and dangerous beasts, but didn't expect to be rescued by her.

In the far distance, Hibiki could hear Getsugakure come into range of his hearing - the bustle of markets, the sound of other boats pulling into ports around the island, and the splashing of fish in the water as fishermen retrieved their catch.

"Never look back." Hibiki muttered under his breath.

The boy sighed, before his index fingers found the corners of his mouth and pulled it into a neat smile once more.

He walked forward, slipping silently into the crowd as the ship pulled into port.