The shadows crept through the crevices of Daiki’s youthful face, finding their way into the corners of his crimson eyes, eyes that had seen too much, and experienced too much for someone so young.
The boy stifled a tear, breathing in rapidly lest he allow the tears to flow. He had been trained to use emotion as a weapon, and as such was only permitted such emotions if it were to further his cause - or that of his clans. Tears were pointless, unless they were being used as a weapon.
The warmth of the fire before him was comforting indeed, and it pushed away the darkness of this place, a hidden cavern that Daiki had found not too long ago. In fact he still held onto the strange, ornate pair of kukri that he had found here covered in what he now knew as Ancient Terran. A language only one of the Oracles would know nowadays, and since his investiture he had managed to translate the writings etched into the kukri’s blades.
It was a riddle of sorts, which made no sense when looking at them at face value.
The kukri blades now shone in the firelight, casting shadows around the cavern, highlighting the many strange ‘gargoyesk’ statues that had never seen the like of day. They were naturally warm, and Daiki had learned from experience that he could channel his chakra through them, making them more… volatile. Part of him fantasised that receiving them had been a blessing from someone else, someone who knew of his loneliness.
His father had left him in a strange village to be raised by strangers. Cast away for no other reason than being useful to the Yamikage. He had been training with the Kazekage when he disappeared, casting unwanted eyes on him even though he had nothing to do with it. And now, he seemingly had been betrayed by those he had wanted to trust implicitly - the Oracle order.
For a six year old, this was a bit much.
Taking a deep breath in, Daiki regained his composure as he had been taught. Sneaking out of the village and finding this palace once again had been relatively simple, especially now with his burgeoning bloodline powers. He had sought solace so he could further experiment with their destructive capabilities without either the disapproving gaze of his ‘mentor’, or the harsh looks of the other villagers who, despite not knowing his exact family, had their suspicions. Some even called him a homunculus or a creation because of his albinoism.
Placing the kunai down, Daiki stood up to stretch his aching muscles. Soon he would have to sleep but before then he wanted to copy down more of the carved writings at the base of some of these statues. Taking a pen in hand along with some parchment, he clicked his fingers to create a small flame which rested over his head. Walking towards a nearby statue he looked up at what appeared to be some sort of image of a rearing lion - strange for these parts indeed. He started making a sketch of the impressive beast, his pen scratching in the silence of the cavern as he, almost expertly, drew an exact image of the statue. His bloodline granted him the artists gift, his eyes drawing out all of the small details to ensure that his art was almost perfect.
Wrapped up in his work, he almost didn't hear the sounds of footsteps behind him until it was almost to late…
[MFT]
[WC: 591]
The boy stifled a tear, breathing in rapidly lest he allow the tears to flow. He had been trained to use emotion as a weapon, and as such was only permitted such emotions if it were to further his cause - or that of his clans. Tears were pointless, unless they were being used as a weapon.
The warmth of the fire before him was comforting indeed, and it pushed away the darkness of this place, a hidden cavern that Daiki had found not too long ago. In fact he still held onto the strange, ornate pair of kukri that he had found here covered in what he now knew as Ancient Terran. A language only one of the Oracles would know nowadays, and since his investiture he had managed to translate the writings etched into the kukri’s blades.
It was a riddle of sorts, which made no sense when looking at them at face value.
‘Blades are sharp, but wits needs be sharper’
‘Voices unheard, yet wisdom lingers’
‘Voices unheard, yet wisdom lingers’
The kukri blades now shone in the firelight, casting shadows around the cavern, highlighting the many strange ‘gargoyesk’ statues that had never seen the like of day. They were naturally warm, and Daiki had learned from experience that he could channel his chakra through them, making them more… volatile. Part of him fantasised that receiving them had been a blessing from someone else, someone who knew of his loneliness.
His father had left him in a strange village to be raised by strangers. Cast away for no other reason than being useful to the Yamikage. He had been training with the Kazekage when he disappeared, casting unwanted eyes on him even though he had nothing to do with it. And now, he seemingly had been betrayed by those he had wanted to trust implicitly - the Oracle order.
For a six year old, this was a bit much.
Taking a deep breath in, Daiki regained his composure as he had been taught. Sneaking out of the village and finding this palace once again had been relatively simple, especially now with his burgeoning bloodline powers. He had sought solace so he could further experiment with their destructive capabilities without either the disapproving gaze of his ‘mentor’, or the harsh looks of the other villagers who, despite not knowing his exact family, had their suspicions. Some even called him a homunculus or a creation because of his albinoism.
Wrapped up in his work, he almost didn't hear the sounds of footsteps behind him until it was almost to late…
[MFT]
[WC: 591]
