the storm bringer | ✓

XV

fifteen. 

(—arashi peak)

Soft and thick, fluffy snowflakes floated down lazily from the calm blue sky. Various pine trees of differing heights were staggered around as a cool breeze drifted around the mountain top. The girl's breath rose, visible in the crisp air as she looked around. Mounds of white snow greeted her and she slowly walked around, deja vu hitting her hard. She gulped and stumbled back slightly as though she'd been physically hit. 

Speak to the spirits in the wind, they will guide you. Ara's calm voice echoes in the back of her mind. 

She took a deep breath before speaking calmly, "Spirits of the Arashi Peak please hear me. I wish to be taught by someone fast..." She thought of her opponent in the final exams, "Someone faster than sound."

Slight whispers where heard as the wind picked up slightly, yet nothing happened. She frowned and tried to think of what she did wrong. Sitting down she sorted through her memories, trying to think if she'd heard of this particular technique before.

. . .

"Mama, mama!" The black haired girl with rosy cheeks ran over to her mother who smiled down at her. 

"Ah, how is my little snowflake doing today?" 

"Good!" The little girl peered at the book in her mother's hands. "What's that mamma?" 

The woman smiled and picked up her daughter, setting the little girl on her lap. "This is my book of jutsu, one that has been passed down for generations." 

The little girl's eyes lit up with wonder, "Oooh, can I try one?" 

The woman laughed happily, "How about I tell you a story instead?" 

The girl nods, her two pigtails bouncing. "Yeah, a story!"

A long, long time ago these seven mountains used to be ravaged with storms of all sorts. The village below grew scarce on food until a young woman with pure black hair and brilliant gold eyes decided to trek into the mountains. The villagers called her a fool, told her she was better off leaving to a different village than going into those mountains, but she didn't care. 

One night she packed up everything she owned and started her journey. She was determined to find out what was causing the storms, seeing how these were no natural storms, and convince the being creating them to stop for she did not wish for the villagers to suffer anymore. 

For several weeks she battled against the worst storms known to mankind.

 The first mountain was snowstorms, avalanches happening at least once if not twice a day. The second mountain had tsunamis that rose from the lake in the center, very unusual. The third mountain was, in fact, a volcano, erupting with lava daily. The fourth mountain held nothing but hail storms coming down for hours on end. The fifth mountain was an icy hell, ice storms generating and only breaking apart for ten minutes at the most. The sixth mountain was classified as tropical storms only because the wind was going around seventy MPH. Finally after weeks of struggling she arrived at the base of the seventh and final mountain, the supposed strongest of them all and a complete mystery.

The woman nearly dragged herself up the mountain as large lightning storms brewed overhead. The lighting would strike inches away from her, causing brief fires that lasted mere minutes before the rain would put it out. 

Finally, she arrived at the peak to discover a tiny valley of sorts underneath the spikes of the peak. She climbed down in and dropped to her knees in exhaustion. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, her bare feet raw and numb, and she hadn't eaten in a week or two. Still, she took out the last of her food, a measly apple that was battered and bruised, setting it on the ground. And she pleaded to whoever was causing the storms to stop, to let the villagers live in peace and to have a good harvest. It was purely silent before a bolt of white-hot lightning struck the woman. However it never harmed her, instead, it healed her wounds, stopped her hunger and gave her the eyes to see them, the spirits of the world who resided within the hearts of all the mountains.

The spirits recongized her bravery and saw her pure heart, therefore they felt it unfair for the woman to die after all she'd been through. And, because of her preservernece they offered her one last gift, the gift to create lignting and summon rain, to control the very elements that had almost killed her. This gift was to be passed through her bloodline, enabling her descendents to have the same control. 

And thus the first Storm Bringer was born.

The little girl's eyes sparkled with awe, "And you know what my little snowflake? One day you will be granted with the same gifts your great ancestor was given. All you have to do is believe in yourself, you are worthy. The Ookami name will always be your pride, and I will always believe in you."

. . .

Winter gulped before biting her lower lip and standing up. She untied her Leaf headband, tucking it away and letting her hair fall down freely. "My name is Yuki Ookami, daughter of Shiro Ookami and I ask for the help of the spirits residing in this world. I plead for you to bring forth one faster than sound itself to train me, someone that rivals light in speed. I ask you this favor as the last Storm Bringer, to help me master the next level. To help me make my family and clan proud wherever they reside."

The whispers picked up, the wind swirling faster and harder before a yellow flash blinded her. Winter narrowed her eyes against the harsh light the shape of a person taking place with their back to her. 

Slowly the light faded away, their white haori waving in the wind slightly with bold red letters printed down the back. Flame designs were on the bottom of the long jacket-like clothing and the man slowly turned around revealing spiky blonde hair with jaw-length bangs. His bright blue eyes gleamed happily, his Leaf headband tied tightly around his forehead proudly. He wore a standard issue green flak jacket and blue tracksuit bottoms, bandages wrapped around his right thigh.

The Fourth Hokage grinned at the shocked girl, "So I hear you need someone fast."