The multiverse is a strange and wonderous thing.
To wit—despite the literal infinite variety of possible realities, nevermind individual worlds, there are a number of... perhaps they could be called ‘patches’ of reality where things are very similar, if a bit different. Within these clusters of realities, certain things remain the same, things that one might expect to rarely hold true for more than one universe. In some cases, these things are places. In other cases, these things are objects.
And, of course, in some places, these things are people.
In particular, these people are usually what one might consider ‘main characters’. They are impactful on their places of residence—their existence matters in a way that could be seen just by happening to be around. Yes, this is out of the ordinary—most everyday decisions have so little effect that they can be more or less ignored in the scheme of things. It’s rare that a person’s decision of what color shirt to wear or how to get to work has a really noticeable impact on where they live. This, of course, varies based on the environment, the person in question, and the methods used (it is highly likely that anyone trying to brachiate to work in an urban environment would have a significant impact, successful or not). These people, however, have so much impact that it can be very difficult to figure out what of their decisions is significant and what is not.
These are the people who give massive and severe headaches to those trying to manipulate probability or the timestream.
Kudos to them.
At any rate, this is not entirely just babble for the sake of itself. Oh, no. There is a point here.
You see, by making a fundamental change to one such person, one can have what some call ‘a fun time watching’. It is with this in mind that we turn our attention to a particular set of realities, ones with a very interesting world in them. In this world, there are ninja. Oh, but not just any ninja. In this world, ninja are a very significant part of the world culture, at least so far as the known world goes. In this world, ninja are multinational.
Not just ninja, but forest ninja, desert ninja, sea ninja, grassland ninja, mountain ninja, and so on and so on. Ninja are everywhere. There are so many ninja, in fact, that they have gathered into their own ‘hidden villages’, towns and cities that appear only on tactical maps found in those other hidden villages that have either sussed them out or allied with them. Some of these so-called-villages are so very large that they basically act as a second capital of their country, allied with the main capital. In this regard, a country’s ninja are often something like a secondary army. Of course, hiding the larger villages, particularly the metropolis-sized ones, is exceedingly difficult, but somehow, it is managed.
Then again, perhaps the hiding is not as neccessary. Since the people of this world are accustomed to there being ninja, often for hire for various tasks, a surprise ninja action is.... well, not much of a surprise, really. And it certainly isn’t as though all of the people living in a ‘ninja village’ are neccessarily ninja themselves, though a certain level of basic training is required.
After all, it’s nice to know your civilians are bright enough and capable enough to remove themselves from the battlefield, in the event of sudden ninja invasion from a rival village.
There are things, however, that even that will not prepare for.
For instance, the attack of a titanic fox-demon.
Now, it is a well-known fact that the Fourth Hokage, the at-the-time most capable ninja in the Village Hidden in Leaves, Konoha, lost his life in order to end the attack of the demon. It is less well-known by far that he was unable to slay the demon, said demon being among the most destructive and powerful of its kind in existence. Instead, he was forced to use what was normally a mutual-suicide technique, or jutsu, to seal it. Naturally, only a living being would be able to survive as a container for the demon, and of all living beings, a human would have one of the best chances to survive, being of the most capable species for manipulating their own lifeforce.
Now, the younger the seal-host, the better, so it was decided to seal the demon within a child.
Being the selfless man he was, the Yondaime Hokage did not even consider asking another person to give up their child to spend his or her life as a jailor to the horrific demon. Not when his own child was just born.
And so it was that one Uzumaki Naruto wound up the village paraiah, later to prove himself to not just Konoha’s citizens, but to the entire world as a whole. But then, this is not his story.
For, you see, the world we concern ourselves in has one significant difference....
The Yondaime’s legacy would be carried, not by a son, but by a daughter....
The Hokage, both the third and fifth man to hold that title (much to his own dismay), was relaxing. Much as he would were he not in the unenviable position of having to return to his post after the death of his successor, Sarutobi was attempting to enjoy the art form known as calligraphy. Even before he had chosen to give up his personal name, a choice he occasionally regretted, the hawk-nosed man had a great appreciation for the calm serenity of the brushstroke. Unfortunately not possessed of the artistic vision to portray scenes in watercolor, he had long since learned to settle for depicting his oratorial skill instead. Not that he considered it settling, anymore. There was a certain elegance in a simple word, or perhaps a two or three word phrase, occupying a wall in just the right place.
Were that not enough, it was rare that the aged man got to enjoy spare time, the position of Hokage involving so much paperwork and so much dealing with the Council of Elders and town representatives. Just thinking about it made the Sandaime feel tired, so he turned his thoughts away.
Placing his left hand upon the parchment to hold it in place as he clenched his pipe in his teeth, Sarutobi dipped his brush, then brought it up to the scroll.
“Hokage-dono!!”
A lesser man, or one not a ninja by trade, would have flinched. Instead, Sarutobi stopped, turning his head to look over his left shoulder. The scroll was ruined either way—the slight twitch of his hand had caused a jag in the otherwise calm line. One that was now obscured, somewhat ironically, by the patch of ink slowly spreading through the rice-paper.
“Hm?”
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(Posted Fri, 22 Feb 2008 06:34)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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