Darkness was what typically happened in ceremonies like this. Osore didn’t see the point, theatrics was something foreign to him after all; however with Hoshikata constantly pecking at him he saw fit to give in on this tiny little thing. The room was lit only by torch, one in each corner to give a dim appearance to the spotless room. The foreign thought was disappointed there wasn’t a ruin nearby to do this in, but Osore was firm that the only thing he’d be giving in to was the torchlight. It was best not to give in too much to it, that only gave it a stronger handhold on the next step of taking control.
The coffin sat in the middle of the room, the lid open to reveal the body inside of it. It looked fresh, as if the death only just occurred. Osore didn’t like that, because the person was killed quite some time ago and the corpse should at this point have been nothing but bone. Given what he knew of the life of this thing before, however, Osore would have preferred to cremate it years ago when his misery began. And now that he failed to, it would perhaps be the key to regaining the entirety of himself from his possessor. It shamed him how his entire clan hinged on this man, everything since his rise to control was because of him, even Tenken’s current predicament with their father. A wrench was thrown in those plans when Osore got the prayer right instead of Tenken, and learned exactly what his cousin had been in life.
At the thought of his brother, Osore once more reads the letter Tenken sent ahead of the body.
Brother,
As you’ve requested, I am sending you the corpse of our cousin. I will take pains to send it without father or the factions knowing that it is being done, but I cannot assure you that they won’t find out and try to recover it before it arrives. Keep an eye out for one of our trade wagons, it will be the first with the resources you’ve requested for the village. I’ve got plans underway for a convoy but father is halting them every step of the way.
I don’t know what you truly wish with the body. I doubt you’re going to destroy it, that could just as easily be done here. I urge caution, dear brother. Even in death he pulls the strings to us like puppets and he our master. Whatever you’re planning, don’t. Just destroy it as you said you would. I would here but then the clan would find out and I would be as good as dead. But if you do…you are strong where I am not. You can protect yourself where I cannot, and none could fault me for sending him to his former bodyguard.
So please, my brother, do not tempt fate. Do not poke into the dark corners of this world. I have, and I promise you that I regret it. Every day is a nightmare, every night a million. Could I take it back I would never attempt what I did, and I would likely be whole now instead of the shattered man I’ve become. Destroy it.
Tenken.
Tenken always did like to ramble a bit, he took after their cousin in that, and only that, respect. Osore folds the letter up and slips it into the book before him, closing the tome upon it as a bookmark as he walks forward, looking into the coffin that held the body of one who he once loved and admired as no other. All he could feel now was hate, disgust. His cousin, the loyal cousin who took pity upon Osore as a youth and helped to raise him up. A lie. He trained a weapon knowing he would be able to guide it like a good slave. This was the man who convinced the clan to abandon their home out of his own vanity, the man who convinced the world he was a saint while sinning in the most vile manner. And now Osore would join him in his sins, for the act he was to commit on this night was perhaps the most unforgivable that could be done.
The veil of death was not made to be lifted. It was not supposed to be ripped wide open, and nothing that went through it should come back. Osore didn’t care. He lived far too long with this voice in his mind, the hallucinations clouding his eyes and ears, feeling things not there and having his body yo-yo back and forth between perfection and devastation. While he would never give in and let go of his control over his mind, he would also not force himself to live in this perpetual agony any longer than he had to. He would exorcise the spirit, put it back where it belonged.
And if that meant unleashing this thing upon the world once more so be it. Osore was no saint, he did not ask to take the pains of others unto himself. He opens the book once more to the page, sighing as he reaches up and removes the helmet upon his head. It was comforting to wear it, considering he’d done so his entire life before a few years ago. But for what he would do tonight it would only get in the way. Osore proceeds to strip all of the armor off, his broad form being revealed as he does.
Long blue-white hair, eyes that seemed to shift between blue and gold, skin that was at once pale and dark as if a pattern of conflict between the two was tattooed onto his body. Osore was huge, even without the armor, and so the robes he donned barely came to his shins and did nothing for his arms. Still, they would be better for the motions needed, just as he had to remove the helmet to speak the words clearly.
And thus he begins reading from the book. The language was ancient and harsh, the words powerful and mysterious. And through them there was a cackling as the presence simply laughs at his efforts. After several mispronunciations he finally begins to figure out the odd enunciation of the words and catches up with himself. The phrases ring out into the dark, still air and seem to create eddies in the void of the room. The torches burn brighter and darker in intervals, flames leaping up at odd moments to try and touch the ceiling high above them. Still he reads on, knowing not what he’s saying and trusting that Tenken knew what this book said when he showed it to him.
The laughing was slowing, growing less cocksure as the spirit realized Osore was serious about this. He could sense a grim determination rising from it, and knew that once this spell finished he would once more have to fight for his own mind like a cornered beast. He had no idea if Tenken would have been able to handle this struggle, Osore doubted he could until he did. One good thing was that over the last years the giant gained an immense understand of his own identity. He knew what was and was not within the being known as Osore.
As the spell begins to end it seems his voice is joined with others, the sound rising to a crescendo of guttural chaos. He could even feel his cousin deep inside himself whispering the words in another world. On the final note the torches flare brightly, the room blinding before going dark. And once more Osore was elsewhere in his own soul.
And before him, once more, was Hoshikata. The Deceiver, the Liar, the False God. The struggle once more began for control. Attack after attack, distraction after distraction; Hoshikata sought to chip away at his mind with rapid but small thrusts. And Osore held onto himself, refused to give even an inch to this thing. And he then attacked in kind. It was no easy task, the mind of his cousin was formidable in ways he could only dream of, but it was definitely unexpected, and it gave Osore the opening he needed to reach out and take the being before him into a tight bear hug. With a roar, he squeezes with all of his might until once more the room is before him.
It was disorienting, returning to this plane of thought. The room seemed disjointed, as if it was turned on its side and yet perfectly normal at once. The spirit in his mind was raging, ranting, screaming like a madman. He’d failed. His cousin still lived within him, their souls entwined in a way that Tenken swore should be impossible. He wanted to shove Hoshikata’s spirit back into his body. He had no idea if he could kill the man after, nor did he care. If he did, awesome. If he did not, not his problem. But even that simple thing proved not to be such. Man was not meant to bring someone back from the other side of the veil like that. And while there were tales of such, after what he and his brother went through in their attempts he doubted them very much.
Osore blinks several times, trying to get his vision to correct itself, but still the room looked as if he were at once facing different directions. He begins to crawl towards the coffin, intent on destroying the body within if he couldn’t put it to a better use. Let his father find out, let the clan try to harm him. He was the vessel which housed their vaunted leader, no harm would dare come to him if they found out. With a grunt, he pulls himself up and peers into the coffin to cast a jutsu.
And stops cold as he does. This couldn’t be right. Something was wrong. Once more Hoshikata begins to laugh, the laugh of a man who found his greatest foe on their knees with nothing left. What was this? The words of his brother come back to him, urging caution. He should have listened, it seemed. As Hoshikata howls with mirthful laughter Osore peers down into the coffin. And peers up out of it at himself. It was unsettling, to look down at himself looking up at himself looking down at himself look-no. That was a circular pattern of thinking if ever one could exist.
”What happened?!”
Oh, nothing. I tried to do what you wanted, you know. Granted if I did I would have both bodies instead of just my own. But alas, cousin mine, you’ve failed to move my soul back into my body and instead succeeded in sharing your own with it. I wonder if this would weaken you any. Perhaps I shall find out yes?
He stumbles back from the coffin even as it begins to kick to do the same from him. The sensations from it were overpowering, and the sight….oh god above the way it saw the world was unlike anything else. As Hoshikata once more begins to laugh, Osore gives a deep growl. He was not the unthinking brute many considered him to be when they saw his large form. He was smarter than many, he simply didn’t speak often. This was not an insurmountable obstacle before him.
So his week would pass with attempts at controlling both forms. It was like learning how to walk again….again. He had experience here, somewhat, after the incident that left his body burned and scarred. The most interesting thing was Hoshikata’s body seemed to retain it’s former power before whatever transpired back home. If he wasn’t paying attention he would occasionally go through a wall or simply turn invisible. To say those moments caused stress would be like saying Osore was slightly oversized.
But he was no fool. He would master this, he would use it. And he would not let the invader in.
(Topic entered/left 30 minute runtime former PC)