Here amongst the sewer rats... [Open]

[Myakashi Migoya]

The pressing throng of the unwashed, the unfortunate, and the forgotten mingled around the lean-tos and shanties that looked as if they had hurriedly been erected amidst the chaos of a difficult world. The buildings reflected the desperation of the people who scraped out a living, selling whatever or whomever they could. The general din of merchants, prostitutes and enforcers blended into a stew that only the strongest could stomach.

Crimson eyes gleamed as it watched expertly the subtle nuances of the black market, noting the key figures, the illicit trade, the secret communications between store owners, customers, and the clearly bribed or gang-affiliated heavies. For here, amongst the sewer-rats, was where Migoya had been raised - albeit in a different land - and here was where he was at his best.

He leant against a filthy wall, his ratty garments (conveniently ‘acquired’ from a nearby clothesline) covering his body, giving the appearance of yet another homeless teen on the streets. He had adopted what appeared to be the local posture - slumped but on edge - and easily slid amongst the lower class like a hand in a glove. No - if the Suna shinobi wanted to find him, they would have to work very, very hard indeed. The smell itself from his clothing and whatever he had intentionally rubbed into would drive away most people with sensibilities, including ninja tracking dogs and insects, and that was exactly what he wanted.

For those people who lived in the sewer, smell was the least important sense. Rather, survival was what mattered given appearances could be altered, sounds muffled, taste tricked, and touch… tempted. No - it was the sixth sense those born on the street had developed that was of the most use here. Several times the simple prickling of his skin alerted him to where, and to whom, to avoid and those born a rat knew the rat-catchers. Even having been here only a short time had let him know who to avoid.

Because, despite what some other people thought (usually the wealthy), one did not become ‘powerful’ in the underworld due to strength alone. In fact, displaying strength only brought interest towards you. No - it was the subtle movements that brought true power. Being able to acquire information. Getting the ear of the right people. Lining the palms of the right sucker. Right now, Migoya was scoping out who they were.

Oh, there might be conflict certainly - after all these people knew their own, and Migoya was an unknown piece in this Sava game, but Migoya was a Myakashi - the peoples assassins - and he would thrive. But first things first.

He needed contacts.

[OOC: Hello! More than happy to RP with anyone here, just be aware that Migoya is in a very good 'non-chakra' disguise (its his thing), and does not resemble his 'bingo book' entry, rather a smelly homeless 'bum' ]

 

[Toraono Michino]

Migoya wasn’t the only person down there hiding their real identity. It was a fairly common practice to dress for the occasion in Sunagakure, and that was no different down here in the squalor. Though still, a well trained eye could catch who was from where if they wanted. The people who walked around with masks of any sort were always one of the Sunan nobles or someone from the Diamond district; usually hunting for their addiction. Down here vices came in many different genres, but, not everyone who was down here in the Black Market was in for the trade.
Some of the denizens lived here, or near enough. They were easier to spot as very few in rags took to hiding their face unless it was a selling gimmick, and those were even rarer due to certain suspicions about buying from a faceless. Of course, not everyone who showed face was here to sell either. Some, like their richer counterparts, were simply stuck here due to poor life choices and, by the repeating insanity of an addict, continue to make them. Of course, just like a real Black Market, what most get to see wasn’t the real one; just a shadow. Down a certain ally, beneath the new sewers, was a chain of tunnels connecting all beneath thousands of tons of sand. These tunnels were part of an old system that caved in on itself back during the Cabal attacks and most of the government above figured them to be entirely gone. However, ninjutsu is one hell of a savant, and before long someone figured out a way to use it to begin clearing the old sewage and making room for a new place to bid and buy wares entirely illegal on the surface world.

Speaking of savants, a one Ryuu Tama was a man walking through these old tunnels, disguised as everyone else. He took to wearing black robes, a plague mask, and a wide brim hat all made from what appeared to be blackened human flesh. It was an image from an older time and only a handful of people knew how and when to use it.
The ‘Hands of Death’, they were once called. A troop of seven men and women that Tama had hand picked and personally trained back in the time when he was the king of the underworld. They were his most trusted assassins and advisers, and Toushin killed every last one of them easily after Tama fell from his throne at the hands of Sousuke. The karma of that, was the word that had been floating the last half-year; that Toushin who had claimed himself as king faster than anyone before him had, fell faster than anyone else as well. The man focused far too much on his image these days as he was an old assassin that pined for his youth once more. It didn’t take him long before he lost himself in the mire and someone betrayed his trust. The fact that Uzumoreru Toushin, or his daughter Chiyo, was still alive was all due in thanks to the strange seven-foot man walking through the ancient tunnels. The old assassin would need to start counting his lucky stars, because Tama’s mercy was purely only due to his brother’s current relationship with Uzu’s daughter.

Everyone walking around avoided the shadow of a time gone by as he turned and began a trek down the tunnels towards a slimy staircase that lead back up into the newer, but abandoned, part of the sewers. The mingled smells of waste, death, and hopelessness was a walk in the park for a medical professional, but the mask he wore filtered them regardless. The scientist’s heterochromatic eyes moved from either side of the masks’ glass protected hollows, looking at the poor and downtrodden. The doctor was specifically looking for a corpse.
While his career as a surgeon allowed him some freedom with his research, he still, despite everything, could not freely procure the bodies of recently deceased patients for certain experiments. As he was also on a watch list for the ANBU, he couldn’t resume his previous life as serial killer that picked off the weaker denizens either; not that he really wanted to resort back to that lifestyle. It was a far more desperate time that required way more controversial actions simply to survive; but, then again, that was just life in Sunagakure.

As he walked by Migoya, ignoring him as someone alive, his feet began to kick gently at the bodies laying around the furthest away from the little bit of sewage trickling down this way. Before long his boot was met with a dull thud as opposed to the moans or frightful gasps he had garnered so far. A harder kick told the scientist this one was at least out cold. Leaning down the man removed one of his leather gloves and felt the cold neck to check for a pulse. There was none.
“Marvelous,” he quipped behind a built in voice modulator. The corpse was mostly fresh, no signs of rigor mortis or bloating, and didn’t look to be of a suspicious size. Wrapped in the right rug he’d have this body in a lab in probably twenty minutes; maybe half an hour. Slipping back on his glove the scientist flipped the body on its back revealing the face of some young male in his mid twenties. Hands under each arm the doctor began to drag the corpse until he realized how awkward this was going to look by himself. Hands of Death were not exactly known for physical labor. He looked up and around, looking for anyone with an able body, and settled upon the only one standing up.
“You there, sah, if I may,” he called to Migoya, “Come help the Death’s Hand move this corpse for our master, and I’ll see to it you’re rewarded.”

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

Multitides of thoughts permeated through Migoya’s mind, the result of years of betrayals, deceit, traps and the like, culminating in a very real sense of paranoia. But this very ‘illness’ had saved his hide on more than one occasion. In this instance however, one had to cast aside the safety of security and wade into the unknown depths in order to catch the bigger fishes. There were many questions that needed answers stemming from the words of this plague doctor - Who where the Death’s Hand? What did they need with fresh cadavers?

Shuffling ungainly to his feet and swaying a bit as if affected by some drug Migoya stood and slowly walked over towards the one who had offered work. The smell of rancid food, soiled clothing and baked-on dirt wafted forward, and surely the man behind the mask would be grateful his nose was covered. Coughing a bit of phlegm up with a pain ridden retch, in a way only a medical professional could determine, he leant against what appeared to be a simple wooden staff. Something crawled underneath his tattered robes, as if a rat had decided to move around to find a better place to gnaw.

A small smirk appeared on the strange man’s face as Migoya dropped into what was, for all intents and purposes, an exact replica of the accent he had heard from the many customers and peddlers down in the slums of Sunagakure.

“... Ya better, sah. Nothin’s free but death down ere’ And if ya thinkin ta make me join my frien’ ere’ afta the bit’a work, just remember tha streets have eyes and a good memory”.

Moving towards the head of the new corpse, he smiled inwardly. Certainly, he had nothing to do with the young man's death - whatever drug he had imbued had done that job - but the man's soul… well. Migoya could find a use for that. Lifting the top part of the mans body, Migoya slid the staff under the shoulder blades, wrapping his arms around it in a way that made it look as if the man had simply passed out and two men were helping him get back home. A stretcher so to speak. Certainly, moving bodies was something that wasn't new to him... both officially as a Medical Chief (former), and as a... well.

It did make Migoya wonder though. In Konohagakure, even the darkest regions would never have left bodies laying around, and to see the sale of slaves so… open was in stark contrast to the ‘good’ facade that Konoha tried to make. It was somewhat… liberating to see a village that not only embraced the strong, but enabled them to rise to the top on the literal bodies of their enemies. This was a shinobi village...

Lifting up the top part of the body with a grunt, Migoya turned to look at the masked figure. Little was revealed in terms of identity - a tell in and of itself - and as such it would require a more gentle touch to obtain information. Firstly, Migoya had no idea who the Death’s Hand was, and obviously needed to. Secondly, Migoya would be watching carefully for any tell or reaction to his cough - after all, certain actions could determine if this person was a medic. Thirdly, the fact that Migoya knew how to create a simplified stretcher from one staff and some ratty material would show a measure of medical ability himself - how would this one react.

And lastly - he needed to figure out if this person was a threat, and if so, how to dispose of it. He hoped that this figure was not one though… that would be annoying and draw too much attention to the both of them. And who knew - perhaps this was the start of something... interesting.

“So where we going sah? Death’s Hand got new digs? - aint heard much about them lately - whats been ‘appenin?”, Migoya asked in the strange accent, his lies flowing out like sweet wine.

 

[Toraono Michino]

Tama in his disguise watched the man closely. Not due to any rising suspicions of the persons’ background as he lurched over towards him; no he was watching for specific tells. The Black Corps of Suna were not anything to be trifled with, and though they left the Underground good enough alone, Tama was an exception. There had been more than a handful of times he had been thwarted while seeking an illegal key ingredient. Though the first few trips down this way were tests anyways, and he had expected to be caught. Slowly, waiting a good month, maybe a week more, he’d try a different strategy. Last two time he had been able to procure what he wanted by using disguises and cleverly placed clones.
Setting up the clones alone had been a chore in of itself. Everyday, on his walk to work, he’d make a clone that would carry a special scroll with a timed chakra release and specific instructions. Down the hill from his cliff home was a garden of herbs tucked away in a greenhouse that got light at specific times of days. Tama would walk into the garden, dress, and insert a little chakra into the prepare scrolls he had clones set up while ANBU was trailing him to work. From there he’d use an underground tunnel that dug into the sewers, which of course, lead to the part of the Black Market the scientist had the hardest time getting in. With his own little road, he could finally step back into the realm of experimentation he had been just a few short, ‘morally dubious’, items.

The disguised doctor didn’t seem to make any reaction to the man’s cough or ability to hoist a body, both were fairly common illnesses/learned traits. He responded to the man’s promise for money with a simple nod and did his half in hoisting the body, using one hand to hold both ankles as the other pointed down the sewage tunnel that connected to the actual lines. Through there they would travel at least out of earshot of the passive,
“We have been waiting and serving the master when he needs it, at always.” It was the only reply Tama could think of. Had he been gone so long that his Hand was being questioned? It was probable. His fall was a a few years ago, and a lot changed down here in those years. The man who was helping him seemed to have at least some kind of background that didn’t immediately scream ‘addict burnout,’ but did seem to have some kind of edge to him. Deserters wasn’t completely uncommon in their militia. Suna always had a very survival of the fittest mentality, and those who couldn’t cut it didn’t always walk away unscathed or even alive. Some could do just fine with the physical part but failed to maintain the mental half. There was probably a small army of Genins, Chuunins, and Academy drop-outs roaming down here. This man helping could be any of the above and as the scientist kept picking out little traits, he concluded that at the very least, he wasn’t with ANBU. Tama was especially watchful to see how good Migoya’s eye was on keeping from slipping on the random bits of raw sewage that splashed up on the tunnel shoulders they waddled down. Though, to be honest, so long as the man didn’t report to anyone official in his government, Tama could truly care less.

After ten minutes of hard travel that involved twists, turns, and even climbing up levels that only an expert tracker would be able to keep memorized, did the duo finally make it to a ladder. It was crude and clearly self made. The scientist made a signal to let the body down and reached, slowly, into his robes and gave the man a map that would lead him back to his home. If Migoya paid attention he’d see a red line barely marking a different path that would lead towards the surface and towards the scientist’s actual home. He doubted the man was worth more than a go-for, but as a ex-convict himself under watch, the right kind of partner went a long ways.
Reaching back into another pocket the scientist also gifted the man a small sack of silver and gold printed coins. If used right it would stretch him a good long while, but most of his kind were able to blow it in a single afternoon.
“Safe travels home,” was all the mysterious masked man said after handing over his reward. Tama squatted down and hoisted the body over his shoulder before he started to climb the ladder towards twist-lock seal. Clicking and twirling echoed down before a waft of fresh desert air followed by heat rushed down. A minute later and the door was closed and sealed back.

Above the scientist undressed, his eyes squinting through the sudden light of the late-afternoon sun, and slipped back into a pair of disposable clothing before he could get to a shower. He also slid the corpse into the far corner of his greenhouse and covered it in a black plastic sheet. He’d come back after the dry heat removed some of the moisture.

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

Migoya smirked inwardly as he watched the figure easily carry the body up a ladder - obviously this man could have carried the body quite easily here himself, but chose to… perhaps...

“Thank-ya Sah. Pleasar doin business.” Migoya uttered, taking the proffered coin and placing it under his robes. After all, using the local currency would stop unwanted attention. His mind mused on the words of the man - talking about his ‘master’ and the like. Hmm...

Migoya looked down at the proffered map, grateful that he was given one, and tried to gain an understanding of where he actually was. Kumogakure was… confusing, as if the locals built it around the caverns rather than trying to sculpt them to suit their needs. It would give him some way to escape, but right now a decision needed to be made.

Should he risk exposing himself to gain intelligence on this Death’s Hand organisation? The name itself was rather appealing after all, and clearly at least one of its members tried to avoid the spotlight and those people who enforced the law. The worst thing that could happen was that this man would attack him, and in return cause undue attention towards him.

“Mikki - case the place”.

Sigh… I wanted to go and see the puppet show down at Sassoriu’s..

“Later, if you are good”

When am I ever good? The puppet jumped from out of the filthy robe, and summoning its chakra ‘merged’ with the stonework and made his way upwards. A few minutes later, Mikki would emerge from a nearby stone wall.

The creepy mask guy is gone. Upstairs is one of those places you like with plants and crap. He ditched the stiff there and has gone somewhere else for the moment.

Migoya nodded, a pale hand stroking his chin in thought. Decisions needed to be made, and though the risks were high, quite often the greatest rewards required them.

And thus Myakashi Migoya glided, by use of the Inner Earth Reflection Lure jutsu, into the private greenhouse of one Ryuu Tama - not that he knew the name of this distinguished fellow.

-----------------------

It was not long before the figure he presumed he had met (he had the same gait) returned, this time dressed more casually, permitting Migoya to take a quick mental picture of his face (so handsome… especially the eyes). The owner would note a black-robed figure who had, for some reason, dutifully watered some of his plants, and made sufficient space for the body of the young man to lay down, the plastic sheet still covering him. The discarded remains of a horrible smelling rag would be seen stuffed into the corner, and Migoya himself was impeccably clean.

Migoya waited until the man moved into hearing distance - after all making a good first impression was, well, for Migoya rather impossible.

“Your Datura plant needs more blood and bone - Nightshade is a delicate plant, and a useful one after all. I prefer to feed mine the liver of goats, though I am sure other livers might have sufficient nutrients.”

A pale hand cradled the delicate leaf as an expert crimson gaze looked over the plant in what could only be guessed at being affection.

“Growth… such a simple thing, but the one thing we all strive for, don’t you agree? As you must of surmised by now, I am not from around here. I am however very interested in this ‘Deaths Hand’ organisation. I have heard whispers on the streets, but it would seem our meeting was fortuitous.”

A small wooden head would poke out from the hood of Migoya’s long black robe, casting what might have been a look of curiosity, if the creature had eyes.

“You see, I work within a… mercenary organisation, one that is always looking for contractors, and other… business ventures.”

Migoya’s head rose as he gracefully let the leaf of the Nightshade plant fall back into place, and rather than looking towards Tama, he turned its attention to the figure underneath the black plastic sheet. A wry look towards the body of the young man caused a small smirk to appear on the albino’s face.

“And it would seem we have similar interests. I have always found it easier to mould the skin if one removes it whilst its moist, then salt it and dry it. That way one can also find use for the other parts of the body - waste not, want not. I gathered that’s what you wanted it for - your attire down in the sewers below and all.”

Migoya shrugged, clearly nonplussed at all about the situation and acting as if he belonged exactly where he was, right at this moment in time.

“But forgive me - intruding into your property is most unbecoming. Unfortunately, business ventures of the nature I am interested in require security and… confidentiality, two things one cannot ensure on the streets. Permit me to introduce myself.”

Facing Tama for the first time, he would note the palid features of Migoya, the shock of pure white hair, and the crimson eyes that seemed full of pain, yet capable of giving it to others without remorse. An aura of ‘something’ covered this man like a blanket, causing the air around him to be noticeably heavier. Migoya gave a respectful bow.

“I am Migoya of clan Myakashi. And if I may have the pleasure of knowing whose noble dwelling I rudely entered?”

 

[Toraono Michino]

The walk back to his double-wide trailer perched on the cliff came with one of relief. The desert air trailing around his body caused him to pause for just a moment and breath in deep; nearly on reflex. Years of his life, most of it in fact, was spent in the heat. Knowing when to stop and enjoy the cool was crucial for living in Suna. Once the wind had passed he trotted up to his door, turned the knob in a pattern, and stepped in past the door towards the left instead of directly behind it. After a moment it closed. A brisk ten minutes later and the scientist was walking back out again dressed in gardening attire. It was a casual button down shirt with rolled up sleeves, colored tan, tucked into a pair of dark colored cloth pants. He strode down to the greenhouse barefoot and with a leather smock over his clothing. The scientist smelled of the homemade soaps crafted from cactus flower and faux fruit scents that were alien to his culture. Without a care in the world he twisted the handle back on the door and stepped inside.

The scientist’s eyes caught first the water being fed to his precious garden which ignited a flicker of anger and worry. Though as the man spoke on about the plant, he noted that the stranger knew the exact water levels, or very near his own anyways, and some of the worry faded; only to be replaced by paranoia.
Slowly, very carefully, the scientist walked a wide circle between himself and the robed man before settling his back against a shelf full of loose gardening equipment. Tama was unsure if the ANBU had already caught up to his tricks and this was their sadistic way of trying to arrest him, or, if this was someone genuine. It was rare for someone to go seeking him out for anything these days with the way he was always being watched. Anyone coming to question him about the Death’s Hand, though, told the scientist right off that this man wasn’t from around here. He had made damned sure that everyone who knew even a little bit about his little secret group that mentioning it could lead to bad things happening to them, or their families. So he wasn’t one of the denizens. Yet the way he was holding himself wasn’t the cocky manner their Black Corp was, at least to Tama, known for. Something about the man seemed like he just might be the kind of person the Hybrid had hoped to one day cross again.

Migoya wasn’t the only person seeking help. Once again the scientist was in some hot water with the recent break of his own timeline. Procuring the ‘exotic’ parts of his experimentation in attempts to fix what Karma had done was requiring far more time than he had. With ANBU trying to watch his every move the scientist was needing to come up with extravagant ways just to get corpses, of all things, without alerting something. Even then, it seemed that he had just been really lucky so far to not run across someone clever as the man in his garden. So he crossed his arms defensively and listen to what the shady figure had to say.
After a moment of thought, the scientist replied,
“A very dangerous man’s house. Most people don’t speak of Death’s Hand because those who do, die…or at least they used to…” The scientist sighed and bowed his head a little to look down at the plant again, “To be honest, it’s a defunct group. I used to be what you call an ‘Underground King’, meaning everything below the surface was once mine. The Death Hand were my enforcers. Now it’s a disguise I use to avoid the local authority as I’ve since been ‘rehabilitated’.
“The name is Ryuu Tama, mad scientist and Suna’s favorite bastard. I don’t know exactly what you seek, but before we continue I should let you know two things…”

The doctor straightened himself and stood up straight to his full seven feet of height and looked down at Migoya,
“First, I do not do trades in coin. I have no need of it. I do, however, find myself in dire need of rare and controversial ingredients in order to progress in various fields of research. You seem to be a man able to avoid Order and can lurk beneath the law and might procure these items. Secondly, no matter what it is you seek, the moment you make a move against the Kazekage or the Takahashi Clan, I will attempt to remove your head. Other than that, I’m free game. Only thing I have to offer you though is money and information, non of it for free though. I am, however, not above haggling for a fair price, so, take that as you will.”

Having said his piece, Tama casually strode past Migoya and leaned down towards the corpse. Flicking off a part of the plastic cover, a pair of sheers appeared in his right hand as his left lifted up the corpses’ own right hand and began to snip off fingers.

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

How fortuitous. In this desert Kingdom to find a man so similar to myself. It seems like destiny.

A sharp eye noted the clothing, the casual nature in which the man held himself that spoke of confidence in his own ability. The impossibly tall stature, and the heady smell of… cactus? Migoya remained pensive, alert, but at the same time wanted to impart to this man that he was in no danger. Not at the moment at least. He listened carefully to the works of the incredibly tall man (genetic or modified I wonder), taking in each word and possible hidden meaning carefully. It was somewhat refreshing when the man was straight to the point, and polite despite being intruded upon.

A defunct group. The king of the underworld. Ryuu Tama… information flowed to be stowed away in the vast caverns of the albino’s mind. Such a similar background, such similar experiences. Perhaps he was not alone in the world, and perhaps thier similar backgrounds could forge something different. He let the man finish his words, after all this was his home, before answering in a measure tone, his hands clearly visible and his body language suggesting no offensive action.

A white hand was raised to stroke an equally pallid chin.

“Hmm. What specifically are you wishing to trade? As to why you wish certain resources, I am happy if you wish to remain tight lipped, but perhaps a little information as to your plans will enable me to find precisely what you are looking for”.

Migoya’s other hand moved the plastic from the other side of the cadaver’s hand, revealing the corpse’s arm, pin pricks from illicit drug use clearly visible and an obvious explanation for this young man's’ death.

“And good. A man that only deals in money does not understand how things truly work. Information is what I seek. Information about this village - non military mind you, but more… business-like. I wish to establish a little enterprise outside of Sunagakure, a trading post, that could benefit both of us. I will need to know whose palms must I fill with gold, the best location, whose ears must I whisper into - the important details. Something the King, or even a former King, of the underworld should know. And who knows, perhaps a piece of information from the outside world might fall into your ears every now and then, not to mention a steady supply of… goods.”

Migoya’s words ended for the moment with a sharp ‘snickt’, as he too removed the fingers from the other hand of the cadaver exactly as Tama had done. He had no idea why someone would need fingers, but it was not his to question. Perhaps it was to analyse the makeup of how they worked - bodies were such fascinating machines after all. Understanding them better enabled you to know so many things that could be done to a body, living or dead.

“My clan you see, the Myakashi, are a trading organisation mostly, based out of Crater City in the Land of Fire. We have enterprises in several lands but seek more… contacts elsewhere. Wind country has various goods unobtainable elsewhere, and so establishing business here would be beneficial, both to us and to one who might like access to outside goods and… services”.

He looked around and spotted a stainless steel plate, normally used to hold the base of a pot plant, but now it would do to hold fingers. Picking it up with a thin pale hand, he moved it close to where the fingers lay and started placing them onto it. The blood oozed a bit from the wounds, but given there was no heartbeat there was no pressure for it to escape.

“My clan has no reason to threaten the Kazekage or any clan here in Wind Country, nor do we wish to. We shall defend ourselves if needs be, but you will get no deadly conflict from us. Its bad for business.”

The plate of fingers would simply be placed next to Tama as Migoya walked around the table, growing closer to the exceptionally tall man to stand next to him, looking down at the corpse. The strange smell of some exotic fragrance, a mixture of mint and jasmine, wafted around the black-robed figure as he moved to place those parts removed by Tama onto the plate, showing a rather ‘efficient’ and ‘tidy’ personality quirk. Tama’s quick eye would notice not only the strange puppet moving in the hood of the robe, but what appeared to be a small dust cloud that flitted around Migoya’s head, almost imperceptible to the eye.

Migoya’s voice suddenly changed, going from the confident bravado of before to a more… simple tone, but one clearly holding back a measure of anger, before moving to something more introspective.

“I know what it is like to be stripped of those things you work so hard to achieve, but in doing so I have learned a simple truth. Perspective. Those who rule who cannot see from the ground up will find that their steps are uneven or very dangerous in the least, and sometimes we ‘Kings’ need to be reminded of that fact.”

Indeed, Migoya knew all too well the price for speaking out against a stronger dictator. His clan had been banished from the lands of Fire simply because he dared speak and act against a child-killer. The ramifications of that decision though were generally a good result with shinobi seeing the Hokage for the tyrant he was, and some even leaving Konoha. Hopefully the mock ‘alliance’ between the villages would falter when they learned the truth.

“Of course that doesn’t mean we stay at the bottom of the pile.”

Oh no - Migoya had plans.

“So, Tama-sama, I propose a simple deal. You provide me with the necessary contacts to establish an outpost of sorts here in Wind Country, and maintain a trade of information to aid in said business. In return I will provide you with the resources you seek, without causing any undue attention, and provide you with information that may aid in the defence of Suna and your… well ‘its’ interests.”

Migoya gave the man a smile.

“But first - what are we doing with this?” he said with a grin as he motioned towards the corpse, clearly enjoying whatever it was that may follow.

WC: 1036
MFT

 

[Toraono Michino]

The blonde listen closely as he sliced through the third knuckle of each finger. The handsome youth came to the scientist with a past that spoke volumes to the Ancient-kin. While his rise to power in the Underground had all been a fit of massive self-destruction, the doctor remembered what it was like to have power. To have a family he trusted and could call his own. For a hundred and fifty years did he loop through watching helplessly as he relived all the agony and pain he inflicted on others as he rose to leadership. Yet unknown to Karma, whom inflicted the punishment, the scientist also remembered the men and women who once walked beside him, loved him, and died for his sins. The exotic scents from another land snapped him back into the present as his eyes darted up to see Migoya walking by. He was caught by the man’s pleasant features and payed no mind to whatever was shuffling around under his cloak. He had few secrets of his own that would blow Migoya’s mind. Swaying Tama to a persons’ side was difficult on many levels, but few had known the same pains that he had, and for the first time in centuries felt an honest connection. The plate set beside Tama with fingers of the other hand was filled by placing his handful on the round steel. Then, he too stood up and cleared a small spaced on a table full of medicinal herbs a few feet from where the albino waited.

The blonde’s giant hands gripped the edges of the table gently and bent his head down in deep thought. He wasn’t sure if this was a trap or if, finally, the Kami sought to allow him reprieve from his sins. Doctor Ryuu did indeed have, stored neatly in his own mind, a great list of every client Migoya could barter, no, should barter with in order to get ahead. If the man was able to keep up with his end of the bargain the could both get a leg up on their current struggles. It really almost felt too good to be true, but when the man mentioned the greatest power a human could be granted, Tama was finally sold.

Having perspective was his golden law.

Turning with something of a playful flourish the tall scientist couldn’t hide the creeping smile of hopeful optimism. He lifted his left hand to be shaken in sealing an agreement, an ancient custom of theirs that came with it’s own set of laws in the Sunagakure Government. Of course, to Tama who didn’t generally follow any law, the handshake was more of a gentleman’s agreement. So long as neither of them worked against each others interests or broke the agreement, they would simply be partners in each others endeavors.
“I agree to your terms, happily,” Tama said once his hand was received. He wasn’t sure if Migoya would even notice, but, the scientist went through the trouble of making sure his entire hand was devoid of chakra to show the trust he was putting in the mysterious stranger. Of course, if this all turned out to be a sham, it usually didn’t take long to clean up.

When asked what he was doing with the corpse, though, his smile dropped almost instantly. He pulled his hand away and sighed for a moment as he seemed to once again be in deep thought. After a moment he came to the conclusion that the stranger gave Tama a great deal of information about himself, it’d be rude to not know what he was getting into. Though now he worried the man might back out the deal.
“It…it’s complicated. I’m a person who has been…broken? Is that the right word? Screw it, yeah, broken out of what you perceive as time. The man you see right here, talking, is actually not here. Well, I mean, I am, but I’m not. You know what, here, it’s easier to show you.”

Lifting the sheers that were still in his right hand, he slid the blades over his index finger of the left and closed them down. The finger flew off, forced into an arc by a jolt of his heartbeat as blood shot after it. The most casual look a man could have while cutting off his own finger was all he displayed. No panic, no act to use a jutsu or strange technique that would return his finger. It simply dropped down to the ground followed by the shot of blood that launched it. Yet when Migoya would look, the finger that had been removed, would still be there; intact. Not even the slightest trace of blood marred his sun-kissed flesh.
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he strengthened the chakra around his right hand along the edge of his palm until it was sharp enough to cut steel. Dropping the sheers he slammed it against his left arm. The arm flew off along with a huge burst of blood, yet the man didn’t even so much as scream. After a three full seconds of no-arm Tama, his entire body blinked out. His presence was tee-totally erased from the room, and then suddenly came back, standing beside Migoya and leaning casually against a different table, arm and all. Except now his hair was silver, he smelled different, still nice, but different, and his attire had changed all together. He now wore the trademark lab coat he was known for and the basic civilian clothing beneath it - a dark brown turtleneck, tan slacks, and simple leather house shoes. Most notably, he was now visibly younger by at least twelve years.

“Long story short, I was supposed to die, and I refused. So the Universe itself is trying to tear my mind apart by constantly shifting me between four different points of my life. We’re both really lucky in my demonstration I didn’t shift into my youngest self. He’s incredibly unstable.
“So far, I’ve managed to keep the shifts down by avoiding injuring myself extensively or using large amounts of chakra. As you can imagine that’s a bit impossible given that I’m a man who is a medical professional and a soldier. So, I’m looking for a cure. My first guess is creating a new physical shell to store my shattered selves into. Ideally, I’ll not only beat Karma at his own game, I’ll still retain the ability to toy with, what you perceive as, time. But!” the younger Tama said as he lifted himself off the table, still seven feet tall, walking back towards the fingers on the other table, “I’ll take just being stable, at any age. Even if I have to go through puberty again, I don’t care…I can’t fight for my country in my current state. So as to what I’m doing with these fingers…”

Tama lifted one of the severed fingers and placed it over the index finger he had snipped off earlier. Slowly, he began to slid the severed digit over his own, but instead of the gore fest it should have been, the finger began to break apart slowly under a soft purple light as it slid down. Once the finger was completely broken down the scientist flexed his hand a few times and wiggled it,
“I’m building a new vessel.”

[MFT]

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

His giant hand was warm as it engulfed his own colourless hand, cold as death. Migoya noted that there was no chakra in his palm, and likewise Migoya withheld his own tained chakra to shake Tama’s hand in an honest business dealing. His eyes stared deeply into the mix-coloured ones of his new partner, and Migoya found them appealing. Not in a creepy way, but in a true appreciation of seeing someone else who was different. Perhaps he had a difficult childhood himself. Kooks they had called him, I wonder what they had called Tama...

A fine partner.

Trust was such an odd concept, but this time Migoya hoped that his trust would be in the right person.

“Very good, I look forward to dealing with you. At some stage I will introduce you to other members of my clan - they are, well, different like ourselves”, he said with a smirk.

Tama then responded, honestly, and explained and demonstrated what he wanted the body for.

“Ooooo… kaayyyy.”

Despite his youthful appearance, Migoya had lived a very long time and had experienced a wide variety of things, people and places. This however was something completely foreign to him - a man cursed with… time travel? His crimson gaze looked over Tama as his forehead wrinkled in deep thought, a strange expression for the albino - confusion did not sit well on or with him.

“So, just to clarify, you defied ‘death’ and in return were cursed with transporting through time, presumably resulting in you returning to various physical manifestations of yourself during certain periods of time. Young, middle-aged, physically modified…”

He was a scientist himself, always seeking an answer to perplexing conundrums such as how to cure the common cold, merging soldier and chakra pills, does Kenshin have a brain. But this was truly perplexing.

“And you need a physical vessel to anchor yourself - so its your soul that transports and seeks physical bodies. Hmm.”

There was no fear in his voice, just curiosity as if given a very difficult puzzle to solve without any instructions. He knew that Tama would have certainly thought of the more ‘easier’ solutions.

“Hmm. I cannot say I know of any solution, as I, well, have never heard of anything like this before. Soul manipulation however is a relatively easy concept, but time travel is something that a companion of mine is more versed in. If you wish, I can speak with him about it and see if there are any ideas we could provide. Just to clarify - are you of the Seikon bloodline? Or are you one who can manipulate time… a, whats it called. ‘Temporal Strider’? Ive dealt with both back in Konoha…”

That little piece of information about his background was telling, but Tama had trusted him so far so it was only fair to provide him with a small bit of information. A small bit that could land him in a lot of trouble.

“But there is something I might be able to do for you. Rather than gather the corpses of the deceased around here, perhaps if we are able to clone your physical form to create a more stable vessel your soul might, well, settle down.”

The strange dust around Migoya’s head would now form into, well, a small flying rat in a black robe. The creature glared at Tama, its fangs dripping with a strange green substance, but there was no hostility in its eyes, merely curiosity as it landed on Migoya’s shoulder.

“Or perhaps we could seal your soul into a seal… that might trap it and prevent the shifts…”

Um Migo-kun. Shut up and focus. The voice was strange, as if placed inside Tama’s (and Migoya’s) heads as a small wooden humanoid puppet clambered out of Migoya’s hood, pushing the strange rat creature off his shoulder to sit there and stare at Tama. Barry, as the homunculus was named, simply turned into fine grains of what looked like ash, swirled around and formed on Migoya’s other shoulder.

“Or perhaps… Sorry, I tend to try to fix things - rambling on about possibilities. Rather than that let us see how we can help one another for the moment. If you wish I can aid with the research into your situation.” Yes, Migoya was joined by a flying zombie rat and a talking puppet and acted as if it were perfectly normal. The simple fact that both of them had appeared however was telling as to the level of trust, so quickly formed, that they had of this strange person. Weirdos should stick together.

“But first - where would your recommendations be in establishing an outpost, and who would be best to… organise this little construction? Once thats done, I can start moving... resources.”

 

[Toraono Michino]

It was a weird concept for Tama to be in the presence of someone who too picked at, and unraveled the mysteries of life. With Sousuke, a man who was his mentor in many ways, it always felt like he was talking to an engineer. A man who was closer to machines than he was to lifeforms. The Hybrid had never met anyone his equal in terms of science, and even had a specialized field in Suna’s medical branch based on his advancements. Yet Migoya, a stranger standing before him, looked as perplexed at the situation as Tama had been a couple of weeks ago. He honestly felt his heart skip a beat to see another man so engrossed at such a perplexing mystery. The scientist crossed his arms and listened closely to the questions.

“The only bloodlines I can tie myself to is Toraono and Ryuu, and both are clans that harbored multiple bloodlines and techniques. I’m as Heinz 57 as you can get, not to mention I also have the kami know how many souls inside of me. Then, while it does seem to be a form a Soul Manipulation it’s…also beyond that. What you see before you isn’t a soul, it’s a physical body set by a fixed point in time. Think of it less that I have any control over this timeline at all, and more than I’m a broken piece, shifting in and out randomly. I only appear to be manipulating time, in reality I’m only messing with my own.” But when Migoya mentioned cloning himself, there was a spark. Now there was an idea he hadn’t tried exploring before. The only question was if he could use his current genetic makeup or if he needed to find a piece of his original self; with one obviously being way harder. The old labs he had scattered throughout Sunagakure might prove to be a good starting point to looking for parts of his first body if it came down to that…

“Now cloning…that’s something I haven’t even considered. Though, it’d be tough to say I could do so with my current DNA. Hmm…perhaps if I use multiple genetic codes stemming from possible distant cousins…isolate the genes related to my own…” and then an idea using a seal. Now that one he had tried, but only on himself without using a different person’s chakra. He began to give his thoughts on the seal when his thought process was interrupted by the strange voice, rattling in his skull. On reflex the arcane specialist threw up four different barriers and suddenly raised his guard. It was then he noticed the creature on the man’s shoulder and, though it spoke into his head, it radiated no menacing aura despite its…menacing face. He had sensed something there the entire time but didn’t really pay much attention to it beyond the attractive man with his sexy deals. Tama cleared his throat and allowed all but one mental barrier to lower back down before doing the same for his physical guard,
“I apologize for that. Things speaking into my head tend to…trigger me a little. Never mind that, though, let me fulfill a part of the bargain so we can get started. Now as to what you need to do…”

After about half an hour of explaining, though a lot of it was simplified, he had parted upon Migoya a good chunk of his dealings in the Underground. Not just basic info, personal stuff too. The Rogue now had information on where to start the kind of business he was seeking, the right places to market his ideas, and the starting connections he was going to need to get on his feet down there. All the while he was explaining, Tama casually moved around his greenhouse gathering a few things. A parchment, some ink and a twig to write with, and a small sack. As he explained who Migoya would need to seek out first, Tama also wrote down a list of names his pale friend could ask for freely without worry so long as he greased palms. Inside the sack, Tama placed a few select herbs, all deadly and well wrapped, that he had been cultivating for some of these very meetings. With Migoya basically taking his place he’d no longer have to worry about the ANBU catching on to his old defunct Death’s Hand. This was the chance of a lifetime, and Tama seized it by the balls.

The parchment was rolled, the bag filled, and reaching into a secret draw underneath one of the many plant filled tables, the scientist withdrew another sack of jingling coins. He handed the Rogue all three items before reaching into his right pants pocket where he knew a watch would be, despite not coming out here with one. Flipping it open he checked to see that the time was right on for the ANBU to shift change. The road down from his trailer on the cliff would be clear of watchful eyes for the next ten minutes.

“The road outside is clear, at least for the next ten minutes. I have no idea how you got in here, I’m going to guess something to do with that guy who helped me drag the corpse up here, but this is a much better way out than through the sewers. Unless of course you’d like to go back down there, I can draw you a map. Gave my other one away…” Something about the way he spoke seemed a little coy. Migoya would probably never be able to tell if the scientist had any clue to his disguise in the Underground.

((Sorry for the late reply, dope avi/sig))

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

“It must be an unpleasant experience indeed.” Migoya was not an empathetic person - such things tended to get in the way - but occasionally he could feel another’s pain. This worthy man was in pain, and as a medical professional it was his duty to ease it away. Listening to Tama’s plight just made Migoya like him more...

He noted the wince and the immediate defensive measures that took place as Mikki spoke. It was not unusual for shinobi to react in such a way, and part of Migoya grew more trusting of this man as he saw his ability to block Mikki’s voice. It was futile of course, as Migoya would have blocked Mikki’s voice a long time ago...

“No apologies necessary. Mikki here tends to raise even the most stalwart shinobis hackles with his irritating and invasive voice”, he said, motioning towards the puppet as Mikki moved around on his shoulder.

Well - you just bitch and moan continuously about everything. came the expected response.

Migoya gave a smirk, clearly nonplussed about Mikki. It was at the point that Ryuu Tama presented Migoya with a wealth of information - each memorised and placed into the vast corners of the strange albino’s mind. Contacts, bribable officials… it was a vast amount of information. He nodded with each piece of information, clearly captivated. Tama even provided the necessary bribes, alongside what Migoya knew was probably communications that Tama could not give directly to his contacts. Was he under house arrest or simply laying low? Acting as a mule was not Migoya's forte, but he would make an exception in this case.

Once Tama was finished, Migoya placed his pale hand into one of the many hidden pockets of his strange black robe, removing what appeared to be a small pin. Enameled on platinum was what appeared to be a black quill nib. A decision was made.

“A gift. Should you be traveling outside of your village and are… disrupted, show this item to those who accost you. Most should stand down, but if not, well, know that they will soon be held accountable. In addition, if you find yourself in Moon country display this badge and you will be provided for.”

Certainly this little badge was worth its weight in platinum.

Offering the badge with his left hand, Migoya would then put forward his right and grasp the wrist of Tama in a lock of friendship. “It is rare to find blooms amidst the desert, and I honestly hope our friendship blooms into something lasting. If you are able, send some personal materials from your original form and others to me and I will endeavour to solve your problem. I will ask my sources as well if they have heard of such a malady as well. I am sure that together we will figure it out.”

A very rare smile appeared on Migoya’s face as he withdrew his hand, offering a respectful bow as he fasted the many packages Tama had given him around his body. Somehow it seemed as if his pockets were bottomless as each herb and coin vanished into the shadows of his robe.

“I’ve personally never found ANBU to be a problem, and I’d much rather avoid sewers,” he added with a grin. “It’s such a nice day for a stroll and to visit new friends. I’ll be sure to send them your regards - perhaps a certain group will re-establish themselves and once again rule the Sunan underground. We can hope.” Indeed, it would only benefit the groups if each others powerbases increased - a win-win situation, and if Migoya could help it become more established all the better. Hisao had started to reinvigorate the Jinkotsu and perhaps a merger with the Death's’ Hand could be… hmmm.

““You have my thanks Tama-sama, not only for your assistance, but for showing an old traveller courtesy and good manners. It has been a pleasure Ryuu Tama. I hope I may return your hospitality someday. May the wind ever blow gently.”

With those words, and a certain recognizable smirk alongside gleaming crimson eyes, Migoya would glide silently towards the greenhouse door, pausing for a second to admire the flora one more time, before leaving.

He would contact those Tama had recommended, and deliver what was necessary to establish his base.

Tama had kept his end of the bargain, now Migoya would keep his.

[Topic Left]
[OOC: Thank you - A pleasure mate and apologies for my late response!]
[MFT]

 

[Toraono Michino]

The scientist waited for Migoya to leave the building before letting out a breath he didn’t realized he had held in. His large hand gently pushed against his chest and a coy smile spread across his cheeks. He had really enjoyed the man’s presence, even if it had originally been unintended. Usually Tama was a man who hated surprises, but with the pin clutched tightly in his other hand, it was clear he looked forward to their next meeting.

Counting up to three-hundred seconds, Tama finally took leave of his green house but not before taking off most of his clothes, balling the rest of them up under one arm, and loosening his belt. Opening the door back out into the heat he made a show to stumble towards his trailer, as if the use of legs weren’t something that was easy to coordinate right now. After this fashion, if any stinkin ANBU were really paying attention, it would appear the mad scientist just had a, eh, ‘friend’ over for a vist.

[Topic Left]