《Gōsutobirejji - The Archives》


 Cycle of Life

    Hi everyone, i''ve pushed myself through lots of fics and there always were multiple things that were total deal breakers to me and just ruined the fun for me personally. So i decided to write my own. i do not own Naruto. This is the first "book" i am trying my skills on and english isn''t my first language either - have mercy :)


    Chapter 1


    I lived a boring life. A life that was longer than what i would have liked. A life i spared due to social standards, deeply ingrained in my very being. In general i would say that my life was average though. Family problems during childhood leading to betrayal and abuse, bullied during school for being different, misunderstood due to being emotionally incapable as an adult and generally depressed. Nothing special and definitely not the worst you can get and yet it still surprises me today just how much influence all of this had on my character. Humans seemed so pathetic to me, stupid almost with their ridiculous antics to stroke their own egos which just made them seem like stray dogs having a cat-fight over a piece of garbage in my eyes. Nothing i wanted to be part of so i avoided it as best as i could, living at the edge of society. Truly what a rotten world we live in ....


    A heavily wrinkled old lady stared out of the window, her milky white eyes staring at where the sky should be as if she could see the heavy gray clouds casting the gray skyscrapers into shadow. Her frail body already unable to move anything apart from her head struggeled to pump enough oxygen through its lungs to save itself from suffocating. The heavy frown eased as she turned back. She was tired of being confined in this dying hull of a species she despised so much. Truly tired. She almost welcomed the feeling of being too weak to breath further, if tht was the feeling of death. With a last deep breath her head fell to the side, eyes wide open, a ridiculing smirk on her pale lips.


    On a dry field a middle aged man was tending to his crops. The last few years had been hard. The dry season didn''t seem to end and the earth was starting to crack. Even though he was doing everything he could, considering the decrease in harvest and the increase in agitated wild beasts, surviving this winter might require them to relocate. As poor farmers their little wooden hut was everything they had and leaving would ruin them just as much as the current situation did. Sighing the man stood up and brushed his graying hair aside. His tired eyes rested on the horizon as the sun bagan to paint the sky orange. It was time. If he wanted to catch anything decent to eat for his wife, he had to go now before the true owners of this primordial land woke up. Contesting with the ancient god beasts wasn''t something humanity was able to do. Even though these monsters were highly intelligent, even sentient, they weren''t exactly forgiving. Arayan pushed the wooden door to his hut open and grabbed the old bow leaning against the wall. "Dear, im going hunting. Don''t leave the hut while im gone." He always told her the same, even though she wasn''t able to leave either way. Irayas legs were paralysed. A horrible accident had left her unable to move and mentally unstable, yet he couldn''t abandon her. Without her his life had no meaning.


    The forest was quiet today, too quiet almost. He had been checking the hunting traps for 2 hours, but all of them were empty. Not even animal tracks could be found. Leaves were littered all over the ground, so dry that every step he took resulted in a loud crackle. At this rate he wouldn''t catch anything and the shadows the trees were casting were getting longer and longer. Arayan decided against checking the last trap further in. It simply was too dangerous. Grumbling he turned around only to freeze in place. Somehow during his pathetic attempt to find anything to kill, something found him instead. In front of him stood one of the most respected god beasts. The enormous body that looked like a strange cross of a horse and a deer, the powerfull gleaming white scales, the elegant head with an long glittering horn, the wise eyes shining from within in a pure golden glow - the Celestial Qilin. He did not dare adress this ancient one. Instead Arayan quickly lowered his head, respectfully waiting for what was in store for him."Human, your path leads elsewhere. Return. May the guardian of all souls reach and guide you to where you all belong." The voice inside his head was calm and pleasant to hear. He wanted to listen to it, hoped that this moment would last, his body frozen in an awkward bow, his mind elsewhere. Listening to the true voice of god beasts was always dangerous without a significantly powerful soul as they spread the shinigamis words. The nearing chimes of countless bells brought the poor farmer back to his senses. Confused he raised his head and looked back towards the edge of the forest. The view that presented itself was shocking. The minutes ago deadly quiet forest was now filled with beasts. Predator and prey were peacefully walking towards the sound of the bells in an almost tranquil manner. No agression, agitation or fear was radiating from them as they continued onwards in a steady gait, pulling Arayan along. Upon reaching the edge of the forest he was finally able to see what caused the comotion. A long progression of priests in white robes was slowly moving towards them while carrying a white silk palanquin heavily adorned with golden bells. In the middle of pure white pillows sat a maybe 10 year old girl with strangely gray hair, pure white skin and lips, faintly glowing white markings all over her body and steadily graying eyes with an unsetteling glow. The shrine maiden. A soulless body. The shell to summon their guardian. Finally they were here. The shinigamis they prayed to had warned them months ago about the end of the world as they knew it. The Apocalypse, the breaking of primordial law, the true end. The profecies stated that someday a foreign goddess would decent to gift them power which would ultimately break their reincarnation cycle, destroy the souls to make way for new untainted life. Without a better solution or the power to stop said goddess the cardinal of the cycle, their religious core, had ordered the migration to G¨­sutobirejji. Migration was a sensible term for what was happening during the last months as the empty hull on the palanquin steadily lost color by feeding yang energy to the priest to keep them moving and absorbing yin energy from the dead. The very dead that stained the path behind the progression blood red. Their belief required them to disregard their mortal shell to safe their souls. Without their reincarnation cycle everything would be lost unless the guardian could be awakened to carry their souls on this migration as their goal was the village where only the dead could enter.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Hastily Arayan crossed the dry land between his hut and the forest to get his wife. She would be delighted to be able to entrust her soul to the maiden instead of dying of hunger. Upon entering the hut his wife was already sitting in bed, her usually empty gaze was raptured, a happy smile hanging on her lips. She didn''t talk, but she readily helped him pick her up more easily. The chimes had reached them by now but the priests did not stop. Their eyes closed they respectfully walked through the rivers of blood caused by the countless beasts. Arayan opened the door and stepped outside. This was a mass suicide and he was very well aware of it, yet felt no aprehension. The soul is their true self and can never be lost no matter the cost. He reached for his bow and quiver and took 2 arrows handing one to his wife who immediately, without any hesitation slashed the sharp arrowhead across her throat. Blood spilled on her dress staining it a beautiful red as her body slowly leaned forwards, slipping away with an intoxicated smile. A strange white aura erupted from her back and was pulled towards the shrine maiden whose hair already glowed pure white even emitting white fog. Arayan could not have been happier, the conditions necessary to awake a shrine maiden into a soul vessel to then become a soul guardian were plentiful. In all records that the religious cycle was aware of only failures were recorded. This time however the vessel seemed to be ready only missing the final push. Deterined the farmer grabbed his weapon and stabbed the arrow trough his neck, his last act of strength.


    As his body fell into the sea of blood the empty eyes of the shrine maiden shone brightly, her body shuddered. At the light splash among the heavy smell of blood she broke the peaceful silence. Her detached voice barely loud enough to not be drowned out by the chimes. "What are you doing?"

 Worse than a Puppet

    Silence. She didn''t receive an answer. "Are you ignoring me?" her voice sounded hollow, no emotion was transmitted. Like a robot her voice only seemed cold and living creatures would probably get goosebumps hearing it. Yet nobody answered her. The priests kept a steady pace completely ignoring her existence or so it seemed.


    *This old woman hates nothing more than being ignored you brats. Who cares about what is going on. Hmpf, let me teach you some manners first* the old woman wanted to stand up to look around and get her eyes out of the sun. All she could see was a blinding white and even though it didn''t hurt it was getting annoying. She raised her body, or so she thought, and struck against something solid. It felt like her body gave way and spread out. A feeling she had never felt before. Confused she stopped. Extending her "hands" she touched the surface above her and followed it. It was smooth yet hard and should look like an egg, she concluded.


    *This really was way too confusing. Reincarnation or transmigration, lots of blood, an egg shaped prison and a sun so strong that one was unable to see anything no matter the direction ... Wait, that doens''t make any sense. The direction should make a difference and if there is sun, there should be heat, yet it is freakishly cold and the prison didn''t seem to have holes. Where does the light even come from?* The more she thought about it, the less she understood, but at least it seemed more interesting than a hospital. She wasn''t bothered by the cold while a human would have died from it and while she was mentally confused and angry or rather annoyed by the lack of control, there didn''t seem to be a physical reaction. No fast heartbeat, twitching muscles or an aching face from frowning. *Actually ... i don''t feel my body at all. There IS no heartbeat.* By now she was probably losing it. *I''m definitely a new kind of crazy, interesting!* The old lady smirked mentally as her face didn''t seem to work. Most likely the worst system error she ever experienced, but since not making progress wasn''t a good thing she settled down and tried to sense "herself". Meditation was better than nothing as long as her patience allowed it to anyways.


    The first few hours she wasn''t able to feel anything and it was getting more and more difficult to stay awake. Time just seemed to blurr and the melody of the chimes seeped into her mind. Her mind was blank, she didn''t think of anything and whenever her former active mind tried to resurface it just didn''t have the energy to resist the monotonous music. It was like her life force was constantly draining, her mind just couldn''t spare any energy to deal with anything else. Unbeknownst to her the temperature kept dropping at a steady rate as a thin missed made its way out of the shrine maidens vessel and spread to all priests. The maiden looked like an angel, absolutely no blemish on hair or skin, just her eyes, apart from a flickering white light, seeemed to be empty again.


    Time is a concept only the living can understand. Those who do not need to satisfy needs paramount to their survival also had no use for a concept like time. Did it matter whether or not they slept for a day, a year or ten years? No. The soul in the vessel had not stirred ever since her first awakening. Under the constantly released mist the priests walked on without rest or even shifting their position, crossing dry plains and dying forests. Behind them the ever present trail of blood framed by rapidly drying corpses of men and beasts. Not long ago the progression had crossed the land that would one day become the land of lightning and reached the southern border. A tall cliff seemed to block their way, the waves crashing against the shore below. At the horizon a green dot painted an oasis into the blue desert. The last obstacle before the migration to G¨­sutobirejji came to its end. Before they would reach the eternal island where the underground temple was located. The leading priest stepped over the edge follwed by the others. He dropped straight down with no change in expression or posture, even his legs kept walking as if on solid ground. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    A normal person would have died, hit the surface with lots of broken bones and inner bleeding. The priests however landed on the surface as if he didn''t just drop down 50m and as the palanquin neared the water it froze solid immediately providing a path for the priests to follow as if everything down to the very temperature emitted by the maidens shell was carefully planned.


    The green island was getting closer. Smaller green islands were passed by the priests until they stepped onto the only large island around. This was the first time where a visible change in their pace could be felt. They began to stagger as if their energy was beginning to run dry. The island itself was full of green vegetation, the classic wild jungle one might argue. Those who took a closer look however would realise that the vegetation itself was an abnormality in itself. The ground underneath was dry and black, not the slightest breeze disturbed the leaves, no animal broke the silence. Yes, silence, absolute silence. How could trees grow here, how could the small white lilies that covered the ground, rocks and tree trunks surviv without sun reaching them. The eternal island was an enigma that should never be disturbed.


    The blood on the priests robes and feet didn''t stain the ground as they made their way across. Instead the red color slowly faded leaving behind stainless white robes while the white lilies they stepped on now stood in a proud red.


    The progression stopped in front of a huge rockface in the middle of the island. The same faint symbols that were covering the shrine maidens body covered it. The cardinals body twitched as if trying to touch the wall and disintegrated into grey dust entirely. Not even his robes where spared. The grey particles spread across the markings making them pulse with energy. The rockface opened up into a dark tunnel overgrown with blood red lightly glowing lilies. Their petals fell upon the progression as they passed through as if greeting or testing them.


    The tunnel kept them for several hours before opening up into a large cave. Even though the cave was underground and heavily overgrown with all kinds of plants rays of light lit up the end of the cave. The progression madde their way towards the light. Old stone buildings, some crumbled into ruins, stood on both sides of their path until they reached a huge and old stone arc. Directly behind this work of art a bridge led over a chasm.


    On the other side a large stone coffin inscribed with symbols that might have once been a language stood on a round pillar produding out of the endless darkness. Right behind, carved into the rockface, stood a temple like structure. The architecture was beautifully carved and not even a scratch could be found on the stone, only plants seemed to be tolerated on the structure. The middle of the temple reaching all the way up to the ceiling was different. The wall seemed to break away into nothingness emitting a ghostly blue flame that was especially prominent in the eye sockets of a face carved into the rock in the middle of the structure, staring at the coffin below. Slowly the priests made their way over the bridge and finally lowered the palanquin to the ground. 5 priests stepped forward and began to push the heavy rock cover on the coffin. Stone grinding on stone reververated through the cave as the coffin was opened. It was empty except for a carpet of white petals.


    Another 3 priests closed in on the shrine maiden as they carefully lifted her stiff body while the other priests passed them and formed a circle around the coffin. The priests lifted the soul vessel into the coffin and slowly forced it into a lying position. The soul inside could not be hurt no matter what nor was it allowed to wake up. Everything was done as quietly as possible as the 5 priests who opened the coffin went ahead to close it over the resting body inside.


    The very second the cover shifted back into place all priests disintegrated into the familiar grey dust that stuck to the inscribtion and activated a ghostly glow that pulsed across the entire coffin.


    The peace and quiet was restored. The Migration to G¨­sutobirejji came to an end.