Mood Music
Normally, Migoya would have leaned heavily on his scientific knowledge, that of chemicals and pharmaceuticals, mixed with his own dark knowledge of chakra manipulation in an effort to recreate life. Raising the dead was second nature to him after all, but the creation of sentient life… that… that he had only done once successfully.
He turned, his robes barely making as sound as he walked over to the other slab in this makeshift temple, hidden in one of the many caves amidst the former diamond storm of Kumo. Above, the symbol of Orrochi, the Devourer, lay worn and chipped, forgotten to time. But this was an unholy place, a place of power. A place of the type of power Migoya needed for the transfer.
He looked down at the beautiful corpse before him, barely a girl out of her teens who had died some time ago from a wasting disease that Migoya had tried to treat. In his pursuit of knowledge he had preserved her corpse, hoping to one day find a cure for that particular disease - something that he had done subsequently. Unfortunately it was too late for her soul, which was granted rest some time ago, but her body remained. It would be a waste to not use it.
Her hair was as pale as is own, and dark black eyes that seemed to speak of the void as it gazed lifelessly upwards. An ounce of remorse struck Migoya’s heart as he remembered her laboured breaths, and the moment the light left her eyes. That moment of transition was fascinating to the necromancer, as it was one thing he was deathly afraid of. He had seen the dead, dealt with shinigami, seen some of the Gods and the next life… well… it didn’t look as amazing as the God-botherers seemed to talk about. No. He would stay in this life as long as he could.
Kiko lay on the cold obsidian altar, the strange hybrid-sheep body she had adapted to wear laying silently. Her swords, a pair of blades that Migoya was all-too familiar with, lay next to her. Those swords… a pair that belonged to Migoya’s brother Yong… Kiko’s biological grandfather. His pale hand rested them for a moment and a smile came to his face, remembering how excited Yong was when he had obtained those weapons. How excited he was when he passed them down to his own son, Yong Jr. How excited he was when he USED those weapons.
Now Migoya would use them to ensure the transfer was successful. The family blood was bound to these weapons, and thus they were an integral part of the process that was about to take place.
It would take time for the transfer of course, and Kiko would need time to recover properly. Guards would be posted of course to ensure that she was not disturbed, especially by any seeking revenge.
“The transfer will be… strange Kiko-kun, but the Goddess is with you.” Migoya said kindly, touching her on the shoulder gently. “Painful, yes. But the benefits always outweigh the cost”.
“Don’t you agree, Yong?”
He looked over to a dark figure in the corner, always watching from the shadows.
Migoya chuckled - it was a rhetorical question after all. The pair had been through so much, and grown so much from it. Yong was, well, Yong’s son and was as close to a nephew as Migoya had.
His nephews’ presence gave Migoya a sense of calmness Yong was here to protect them both as the transfer occurred - it was after all his flesh and blood that was before them.
His pale hand rested on the black scabbard of one of the blades.
“Im going to use Yongs blades to transfer your soul Kiko-kun - since you have an attachment to them, they will act as a grounding point - a focal point between you and your new host. It may take some time for you to get used to your new body, but that is normal.”
He looked over towards Yong, his face stoic.
“During the interim, although her soul will reside in the new host body, the blades themselves must be kept safe. Think of them akin to a phylactery…” His brother was more than aware of the dark ways certainly, but Migoya’s abilities with souls and the undead tended to be something… specialised to the albino.
“Do know Kiko-kun that your current connection to the Goddess will be cut - temporarily at least. The channelling of such potent energies and my own would be impossible to control effectively, and I do not wish to risk it. I trust you have let her know…”
Silently, he glided over to where there were several candles lit, a pentagram encircling the two alters, with the swords in the middle of them.
“Pray to her Kiko… and I will begin!”
Migoya began to chant, his hands moving expertly in signs long forgotten to most, calling upon dark jutsu to summon the dead. Five figures arose, long-dead priests of Orochi, who stood near each of the candles on the points of the pentagrams, their long-dead visages staring at the blades.
More intricate signs were spun, and Yong and Kiko would start to feel the pull of darkness on their own chakra as Migoya began the ritual.
Pulling out a wickedly sharp tanto, Migoya slashed at his palms. Dark blood, black as night, streamed forth as Migoya looked on with ecstasy. Using the same blade he cut into Kiko’s palm, and her hosts, in precisely the same places. Akin to a conductor manipulating an unholy orchestra, he pulled the blood from Kiko’s body, sending it slowly into the new host.
Blood contained part of the spirit after all.
The physical things were easy though… now the tough part began.
Kiko would now pass out from the blood loss, and her chakra drain. Migoya would normally be concerned, but he was glad as the worst pain was yet to come and hopefully she would remain unconscious through it all.
The next part was crucial.
Old handseals were formed… ones that used to be able to be used in battle, but some disagreement with the shinigami and being used as battle fodder had caused such abilities to vanish. A shinigami appeared, blade inits mouth, holding beads in each of its hands as it thristed for mortal souls.
“Juruji-sama - forgive the call great one. I ask the boon of transference, as payment for the 500 souls sent to you.”
The Shinigami looked down at the mortal who dared ask him to work… to serve. It then realised this was not a mere mortal… he knew this one. Feared this one…
“Migoya-sama. It has been a while since I saw you in the flesh. Yes, the souls were welcome, and will be welcome in the future. However, I require at least 1000 souls for this transfer. Interest rates and all”.
Migoya smirked. He knew how diabolical this particular shinigami could be.
“Oh a shame. I was hoping to have a long term relationship, indeed a mutually beneficial one given the wars that will be taking place. All those wasted souls. I guess Guuri would be more interested in this deal”... Migoya knew the greed of the death spirits, and the competitions they had against one another for how many souls they could feast on. Naming Jurujis most hated adversary was clever, and Juruji knew it.
A horrible chuckle emanated from the shinigami.
“A good play Migoya, and one that might work on a lesser spirit. But I am not lesser. Either pay your cost, or not. Im sure Guuri is not capable of what I can do.”
Migoya smirked. Shinigami were smart, even if the play was rather obvious.
“Oh well. I guess transferring the soul of the Harbinger of the Deep Goddess isnt interesting enough for you. Ill find someone who can understand the benefits of such a transaction…” Migoya let it linger. He would get a response in 3… 2…
“Wait!”
Hmm. Earlier than expected.
“She is the Harbinger of the Deep Goddess! Oh, that makes things different. Ill do it for free, but do let the Goddess know of my… support”.
Migoya smirked knowingly.
“Certainly”.
As soon as Migoya uttered those words, the Shinigami reached into Kiko’s body, pulling out a translucent copy of her form, without the ‘sheep’ appendages. Her soul. Migoya watched carefully, looking for any sign of betrayal.
“You want this.. In that?” the Shinigami uttered, motioning towards the host body.
“Bound to those blades as well”, Migoya said, motioning towards the naked blades.
The Shinigami looked somewhat annoyed for a second, before drawing out the blade from his mouth, cutting a slice of Kiko’s soul as easily as butter. Just as quickly he placed the majority of the soul into the host, and the smaller part into the blade.
Migoya rushed over, starting a series of medical ninjutsu on the host body - now Kiko. The shinigami loomed over them both.
“It is done, Migoya-sama. Remember… tell the Goddess that I helped her Harbinger…” he said as his voice faded into the next realm.
Migoya nodded in agreement, his focus primarily on Kiko, and with a motion dismissed the shinigami. Kiko’s new body was bathed in blue light as Migoya focused his impressive medical abilities on not only ensuring the soul took root in the body, but that the basic organs started up again. He sealed up the bloody wounds, the blood from Kiko now fully transferred over, along with his own to aid the healing process.
The strain was telling on Migoya’s sweaty brow, as he continued to concentrate. The main ritual was over. It was now up to Kiko’s soul to be strong enough for the process to be complete.
[MFT: 1592]
Normally, Migoya would have leaned heavily on his scientific knowledge, that of chemicals and pharmaceuticals, mixed with his own dark knowledge of chakra manipulation in an effort to recreate life. Raising the dead was second nature to him after all, but the creation of sentient life… that… that he had only done once successfully.
He turned, his robes barely making as sound as he walked over to the other slab in this makeshift temple, hidden in one of the many caves amidst the former diamond storm of Kumo. Above, the symbol of Orrochi, the Devourer, lay worn and chipped, forgotten to time. But this was an unholy place, a place of power. A place of the type of power Migoya needed for the transfer.
He looked down at the beautiful corpse before him, barely a girl out of her teens who had died some time ago from a wasting disease that Migoya had tried to treat. In his pursuit of knowledge he had preserved her corpse, hoping to one day find a cure for that particular disease - something that he had done subsequently. Unfortunately it was too late for her soul, which was granted rest some time ago, but her body remained. It would be a waste to not use it.
Her hair was as pale as is own, and dark black eyes that seemed to speak of the void as it gazed lifelessly upwards. An ounce of remorse struck Migoya’s heart as he remembered her laboured breaths, and the moment the light left her eyes. That moment of transition was fascinating to the necromancer, as it was one thing he was deathly afraid of. He had seen the dead, dealt with shinigami, seen some of the Gods and the next life… well… it didn’t look as amazing as the God-botherers seemed to talk about. No. He would stay in this life as long as he could.
Kiko lay on the cold obsidian altar, the strange hybrid-sheep body she had adapted to wear laying silently. Her swords, a pair of blades that Migoya was all-too familiar with, lay next to her. Those swords… a pair that belonged to Migoya’s brother Yong… Kiko’s biological grandfather. His pale hand rested them for a moment and a smile came to his face, remembering how excited Yong was when he had obtained those weapons. How excited he was when he passed them down to his own son, Yong Jr. How excited he was when he USED those weapons.
Now Migoya would use them to ensure the transfer was successful. The family blood was bound to these weapons, and thus they were an integral part of the process that was about to take place.
It would take time for the transfer of course, and Kiko would need time to recover properly. Guards would be posted of course to ensure that she was not disturbed, especially by any seeking revenge.
“The transfer will be… strange Kiko-kun, but the Goddess is with you.” Migoya said kindly, touching her on the shoulder gently. “Painful, yes. But the benefits always outweigh the cost”.
“Don’t you agree, Yong?”
He looked over to a dark figure in the corner, always watching from the shadows.
Migoya chuckled - it was a rhetorical question after all. The pair had been through so much, and grown so much from it. Yong was, well, Yong’s son and was as close to a nephew as Migoya had.
His nephews’ presence gave Migoya a sense of calmness Yong was here to protect them both as the transfer occurred - it was after all his flesh and blood that was before them.
His pale hand rested on the black scabbard of one of the blades.
“Im going to use Yongs blades to transfer your soul Kiko-kun - since you have an attachment to them, they will act as a grounding point - a focal point between you and your new host. It may take some time for you to get used to your new body, but that is normal.”
He looked over towards Yong, his face stoic.
“During the interim, although her soul will reside in the new host body, the blades themselves must be kept safe. Think of them akin to a phylactery…” His brother was more than aware of the dark ways certainly, but Migoya’s abilities with souls and the undead tended to be something… specialised to the albino.
“Do know Kiko-kun that your current connection to the Goddess will be cut - temporarily at least. The channelling of such potent energies and my own would be impossible to control effectively, and I do not wish to risk it. I trust you have let her know…”
Silently, he glided over to where there were several candles lit, a pentagram encircling the two alters, with the swords in the middle of them.
“Pray to her Kiko… and I will begin!”
Migoya began to chant, his hands moving expertly in signs long forgotten to most, calling upon dark jutsu to summon the dead. Five figures arose, long-dead priests of Orochi, who stood near each of the candles on the points of the pentagrams, their long-dead visages staring at the blades.
More intricate signs were spun, and Yong and Kiko would start to feel the pull of darkness on their own chakra as Migoya began the ritual.
Pulling out a wickedly sharp tanto, Migoya slashed at his palms. Dark blood, black as night, streamed forth as Migoya looked on with ecstasy. Using the same blade he cut into Kiko’s palm, and her hosts, in precisely the same places. Akin to a conductor manipulating an unholy orchestra, he pulled the blood from Kiko’s body, sending it slowly into the new host.
Blood contained part of the spirit after all.
The physical things were easy though… now the tough part began.
Kiko would now pass out from the blood loss, and her chakra drain. Migoya would normally be concerned, but he was glad as the worst pain was yet to come and hopefully she would remain unconscious through it all.
The next part was crucial.
Old handseals were formed… ones that used to be able to be used in battle, but some disagreement with the shinigami and being used as battle fodder had caused such abilities to vanish. A shinigami appeared, blade inits mouth, holding beads in each of its hands as it thristed for mortal souls.
“Juruji-sama - forgive the call great one. I ask the boon of transference, as payment for the 500 souls sent to you.”
The Shinigami looked down at the mortal who dared ask him to work… to serve. It then realised this was not a mere mortal… he knew this one. Feared this one…
“Migoya-sama. It has been a while since I saw you in the flesh. Yes, the souls were welcome, and will be welcome in the future. However, I require at least 1000 souls for this transfer. Interest rates and all”.
Migoya smirked. He knew how diabolical this particular shinigami could be.
“Oh a shame. I was hoping to have a long term relationship, indeed a mutually beneficial one given the wars that will be taking place. All those wasted souls. I guess Guuri would be more interested in this deal”... Migoya knew the greed of the death spirits, and the competitions they had against one another for how many souls they could feast on. Naming Jurujis most hated adversary was clever, and Juruji knew it.
A horrible chuckle emanated from the shinigami.
“A good play Migoya, and one that might work on a lesser spirit. But I am not lesser. Either pay your cost, or not. Im sure Guuri is not capable of what I can do.”
Migoya smirked. Shinigami were smart, even if the play was rather obvious.
“Oh well. I guess transferring the soul of the Harbinger of the Deep Goddess isnt interesting enough for you. Ill find someone who can understand the benefits of such a transaction…” Migoya let it linger. He would get a response in 3… 2…
“Wait!”
Hmm. Earlier than expected.
“She is the Harbinger of the Deep Goddess! Oh, that makes things different. Ill do it for free, but do let the Goddess know of my… support”.
Migoya smirked knowingly.
“Certainly”.
As soon as Migoya uttered those words, the Shinigami reached into Kiko’s body, pulling out a translucent copy of her form, without the ‘sheep’ appendages. Her soul. Migoya watched carefully, looking for any sign of betrayal.
“You want this.. In that?” the Shinigami uttered, motioning towards the host body.
“Bound to those blades as well”, Migoya said, motioning towards the naked blades.
The Shinigami looked somewhat annoyed for a second, before drawing out the blade from his mouth, cutting a slice of Kiko’s soul as easily as butter. Just as quickly he placed the majority of the soul into the host, and the smaller part into the blade.
Migoya rushed over, starting a series of medical ninjutsu on the host body - now Kiko. The shinigami loomed over them both.
“It is done, Migoya-sama. Remember… tell the Goddess that I helped her Harbinger…” he said as his voice faded into the next realm.
Migoya nodded in agreement, his focus primarily on Kiko, and with a motion dismissed the shinigami. Kiko’s new body was bathed in blue light as Migoya focused his impressive medical abilities on not only ensuring the soul took root in the body, but that the basic organs started up again. He sealed up the bloody wounds, the blood from Kiko now fully transferred over, along with his own to aid the healing process.
The strain was telling on Migoya’s sweaty brow, as he continued to concentrate. The main ritual was over. It was now up to Kiko’s soul to be strong enough for the process to be complete.
[MFT: 1592]
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