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Innocent, crying child, don't be above thine daydream.
Akane was susceptible of getting lost—it had always been since.
Konoha had a place that was unknown to most of people, but still, it had a name—the Chasms of Araya. No bridge was built over it, the solution she had was to throw her marked kunai that could reach over the chasm. This abyss's precipitous division was terrifyingly lofty, and at the pitch-black center was difficult to fathom, challenging the humanity's courage with their jagged edges. It was as if it also separated the country of Konoha into north and south, and no one seemed to most likely visit it because of the threatening descriptions. Without knowing of the many, this place was an undiscovered gem. There were medicinal plants and rare animals that made their homes in these mountains. If any of the leaders of the Leaf would consider, this place would be as a strategic route for trade, defense or offense. Those perilous cliffs would be the secret resource of the country. An impregnable, transcendent, and natural stronghold.
But nonetheless, Akane wouldn't want the people arrive at this place, never wanted that to happen. It went without saying: humanity's nature was to bring chaos and destruction.
She was just training ever since morning (and now was late afternoon), though she didn't know what to train to—no one was there to spar with her or teach her more of the jutsus suitable for her chakra inclination. The books about her clan—Namikaze—would help, but those books were stored in her previous home, which she never visited for years as well. Akane could only shrug.
All she could do right now was to improve the Ranton techniques her father once was taught her: Laser Arrow and Great Phoenix. She knew that there was more in this Kekkei Genkai she owned . . . But she didn't know where to start in able to master new techniques. Akane sighed, now watching the great clouds forming in random line-ups in the heraldic color blue, as if they were about to safely sail in the celestial seas. There were swirling lacy clouds filtering the sunlight as well, and between those soft rays, in those calm moments, she was able to self reflect all better.
Then the young lass closed her eyes, her fingertips feeling the grassy ground she was lying on. She was trying to absorb the nature's energy, even analyzing how this world was made. Thoughts such as those had been fascinated her: the meaning and forming of reality.
Reality, to her limited understanding and philosophical persona, was a formless swirling dance of an unanswerable meaning—from the entropic decaying galaxies to the rocks of her reach. All was flux, all was changing, and everything would die . . . And so she will.
A world was born once a galaxy exploded, then it would scatter into limitless forms, then it would eventually converge. The atoms reality was made of would gather again and become another star that was meant to explode . . .
Again and again. Repeat.
It was a cycle . . . A spiral—an uzu.
Spirals appeared everywhere. Whether in galaxies, hurricanes, and even biomolecules. Spiral was the innate pattern of life.
