Raiden's Throne: Call Me if you Get Lost

[Okada Kaji]

Tales of Suspense #003

Call me if you get lost.

Despite the grandeur of the City Built on Clouds, it often seems as if its tenants take the exotic nature of living on the peak of a mountain for granted. This mighty bastion is surely a world wonder, even if the lands beyond the bordering seas remain uncharted till this day. And on that note— have you ever wondered why? Well, when you were a baby we cherished storytime, but I’m pretty sure I left out the one about The Storm Lord’s Ire. There’s just something that irks me about this village’s founding being linked back to religious sycophants who dragged their unwashed asses up the spine of the world to be closer to Raiden. But, to keep it brief, the moral of that story is that Raiden cherished his children so much that he would send down storms to keep them from wandering too far from the mountain. Any attempt at crossing the sea will be met by a storm that will capsize your vessel and leave you sinking to your demise. Raiden is a flattering one, aren’t they? But see, as covetous as the gods can be, Raiden really took the cake and they liked them baked tall in countless lairs.

It was supposed to be a play on words. Layers. Lairs. See, while Raiden coveted their children and gathered the faithful to live within what became our home, they also came to fancy treasures that emulated their might. In the earliest days of men walking the realm, the most direct descendants of Raiden began to slay powerful creatures too dangerous to leave roaming; beings whose essence too closely resembled the might of Raiden. And from those creatures, the victors found and in many cases, forged many artifacts, trophies, and treasures touched by godly might. In the earliest days, these treasures were brought down to a lair deep within the mountain. But as eons passed and the creation of such artifacts became less potent with furthering distance of Raiden’s touch upon them, the protection of their treasure hoard became that much more vital to our village.

Alas, Raiden’s Throne is indeed a mighty treasure hoard kept in secret deep within the annals of the mountain, hidden beyond passages below the sealed tunnels of the Sileo Tempestas. I could tell you exactly how to get there but then I’d have to kill you, so let’s settle with a vague imagining: gold seized from foreign wars piled high, jewels, weapons and armor, dried spices in gold-painted urns, and the corpses of ancient beings with immense power. If none of that excites you, my child, just wait: there’s more.

So remember that part about having to kill you? Well, the existence of Raiden’s Throne is sort of top-secret within the village, as well as its location, exact size, and contents. Roughly five living villagers know of its existence, though I suppose that number will increase today, and of course, now there’s you too. Traditionally, awareness of the throne is passed down verbally between the Raikage, but Lord Ayumu cautiously neglected to share this knowledge with the current incarnation of his title. As for his three sennin, they were entrusted with this knowledge mostly out of contingency. A Kage should be able to trust their sennin, right? With your village, with their own life?

Around the twilight hours came the strangest alarm of a phenomenon within the nerve center of the Sileo Tempestas. The shinobi staffed at the time were in a formation as if their current fated foes: that nuisance, the Tenouza, had somehow infiltrated their stronghold. But alas, it was no jutsu, only a stranger, older magic as a crystalline structure levitated within the command center. Huffing beneath their stifling porcelain mask, a Mempo rushed towards her Grand Commander with news that an anomaly was occurring in the tunnels below their base. Fractured crystal panels floated into alignment in the command center, revealing a vision of some ornate cave below the Sileo that was deemed a dead end— an altar to Raiden a few shinobi sometimes prayed to before long missions. There was a golden light shining from within that portal, one so bright it obfuscated the clarity from view. Instead, the mirror would only make out the clear image of a man donned in vintage ANBU attire they just didn’t make anymore. Draped over him was the hazy grey of a winter wolf cloak, which split and billowed from the frigid breeze passing from behind him, through the golden doorway. The man seemed weathered by time, and with no mask to hide his tired eyes, the mystical mirror made out the images of his emeraldine eyes. There were a few muted gasps from those who recognized the relic from their past. Who could it have been but Kaji Okada, who hadn’t been seen within the Sileo in years?

Seemingly aware of the mirror scrying his image to the rest of the ANBU brigade, the seasoned shinobi didn’t explore whether the mirror could transmit sound and instead brought his hands together to form a sign language unique to the ANBU: the silent hand code. “Summon Grand Commander— Raiden Altar,” went his hands in a few elaborate gestures. “Call me if you get lost.” Then he tapped his ear where a headset could be found.

-- Kaji Okada has entered the thread.
-- Requesting Mirō Kagami
-- Open to anyone the ANBU Sennin might seek to invite as her entourage.

 

[Kagami Miro]

“What the hell was that?!” A blond haired man palmed the table top as the earth shook for a moment. The strength and sudden severity of what occurred ruled out an earthquake. The magnitude behind it was far too sudden. “Captain! Sentries around Kumo reported a massive beam of light coming due south of the village.” “What?!” Just then the voice of the Sennin chimed into his ear. After the distress call was relayed to the man dread painted his face. Adubily he sucked his teeth, “Damn Tenouzans are already making a move!” A fist slammed down against the table in the command center. For a moment, everything was still. The blond haired Anbu rubbed his temples. A hand moved to relieve his forehead of rebellious strands of hair that stuck to his brow with sweat. Like a ghostly arm reaching over his shoulder that sense of unease lingered on his neck.

The formation of shards of glasses that materialized and formed at the center of the command room set the precedent of what the rest of the Anbu ninja did. Lined up, battle ready to the incoming attack the ninja were met with a blinding light as the large shards of crystals aligned. Through squinted eyes and through fingers that shrouded their eyes, a few long time Anbu veteran jounin witnessed an image that jogged their memory from years before. Some called out his name and others hands slowly reached out, hesitant to commit to their newfound memories. The blonde haired man in a brown trench coat used his hand to act like a visor to block out the radiant rays. Blue orbs adjusting to the light, they could make out distinct facial features and hand motions. “Sign language?” Carefully reading his hand movements, the blond man named Keunchin turned his back to the mirror. Again his hand rose up to his ear piece to relay the message to his superior.

“Previous Anbu Sennin wants me to meet him at Raiden’s Altar? Nobody knows where that is! Not even the Raikage. What a pain.” Her footsteps hastened through the halls of the Torre Celeste. Being a ninja meant silent footsteps unless you wanted to be heard, never the case for the Anbu branch ninja, so like a ghost Mirō moved and turned down a dimly lit hall. The lights flickered every now and then. The breaker shaken up from the blast. Mirō stood underneath the light that dangled from the high ceiling and right as it flickered off and on the Sennin vanished into thin air.

A pitch black dongle in the shape of a zipper appeared inside the office of the ANBU Sennin. Reality surrounding it warped and unzipped to reveal a pitch black doorway. From the abyss emerged black tresses then slowly the entirety of the Sennins body. With grace she landed feet first on her desk. At the doorway to the office Keunchin leaned up against the frame with his arms folded across his chest. The abyssal portal closed quickly above her, red hues taking notice of him. “Welcome back, my lord.” A smug grin warped his lips. Fukaku Keunchin, an Anbu captain who’s strategic mind helped evenly paint Anbu presence at nearby flanks and convinced the Sennin into ulterior ways of strategy and planning. “You know I hate that.” “Have to put on a show for the subordinates.” A glowing smile shot out from Keunchin to Mirō. Her eyes rolled at his cocky words. She hopped off the table and walked past Kuenchin, beckoning him to follow her out of the office and towards the elevator. A finger pressed a button to call it, Keunchin spoke up. “It’s an honor that you’re taking me with you.” “Will you cut that out already?” Ding! The elevator doors opened, leading the way Mirō walked in with Kuenchin in tow. “Why are we taking the elevato--” Without a word Mirō lifted a hand to the elevator key pad, hitting the buttons in a specific combination the silver elevator doors shut. Classic soft violins began to play over the speaker in the elevator as it began to bring them down deeper into the Sileo. The Sileo Tempestas is a work of art and ingenuity. Carved deep into the mountain earth of Kumo the headquarters of the ANBU dug deep and spanned throughout respective land. Mirō hadn’t had time to take the luxurious tour of the Sileo. Only being shown the major places of importance within it. The small in’s and out’s of Sileo were things she had to learn on her own accord and whatever was in the books in the office labeled “Tip Toein’ in the Sileo”.

As they plummeted the lights within the elevator flickered. The soft violin began to cut in and out, distorting its tune with each disappearance of light. Flicking off again the time within the dark felt like years until the lights cut back on. Mirō and Keunchin synonymously looked at the light then each other, then back at the light and each other once again before the ding of the elevator brought sanity back into the square space. The doors parted to bring the duo face to face with a long hallway. Mirō stepped foot out of the elevator, her eyes cocking side to side. The walls were made of black stone that glimmered like obsidian with blue streaks painted inside them like lightning scattering across the night sky. Keunchin stepped out beside Mirō, “Is this.. His tomb?” His calloused fingers touched the obsidian wall. Expecting them to be cold, the stone gave off a comforting warmth. The flat walls stretched further, cautiously Mirō and Keunchin moved down the tomb tunnel. The air felt thin and the smell of earth was pungent. The further they walked the taller the hall ceiling got. The smell of earth slowly drifted away with a sudden breeze that took Mirō for surprise. “Wind? Down here?” Keunchin questioned, raising a brow into the air. “We must be close. Look! A faint light.” Mirō pointed down further. The luminance began to paint its gradient against the tall walls that never seemed to end.​

Pressing forward with determination the closer they got to the center of the tomb the brighter it became. Hands rose to cover their eyes from the light as the hall finally opened up into a wide chasm. The obsidian rocks stuck out in odd disorganized patterns. The path that led to the center of the room acted like a bridge from the tunnel to the center of the altar. The pillar extended down past the fog surged with lightning idly. A space this vast and empty led Mirō to believe they were no longer in the Sileo but another world. “Shit…” Keunchin whispered as he held his ear out to the white abyss. He struggled to hear the rock he kicked off the ledge hit the bottom. “How is this place even real? Did I hit my head in the elevator? Where’s this light coming from? And-” “Is that…?” Mirō interrupted Keunchin trying to poke holes.

Her eyes slowly began to adjust to the light around them. Keunchin gazed forward looking at a slender silhouette that stood before the pillar. With a nudge Keunchin got Mirō’s attention. “Use the headset. He said to call if we.. get lost but using the headset will define whether or not that’s him up ahead.” Her gaze returned back to the silhouette, a finger rose to her ear piece. The frequency that the command center was on had no signal to reach out too. Just where the hell were they? Scanning through the sound waves one channel finally chimed in. “You there at the pillar… Are you the previous sennin? Kaji Okada? Why did you want to meet me here of all places?” Her hand fell to her side, eagerly she awaited a response back from the anomaly. If it were he, she had a lot of questions that were in dire need of proper answers.

[Topic Entered]
[NPC Fukaku Keunchin entered]

 

[Okada Kaji]

At the end of the sprawling bridge was the promised figure cloaked in grey. He was motionless aside from the waving fur of the winter wolf, pushed just slightly by a wind-like presence. Wind that deep below the surface seemed impossible— rather, it was the tremble of thunderous vibrations from above. If the mountain were made of glass it would have shattered that day, but those corridors hewn from granite and steel were steadfast beyond any trouble men might cause. The form of Kaji Okada seemed unperturbed by it all, patiently waiting with his back to a golden vestibule, the first hall of Raiden’s Throne. Glyphs carved into the walls surrounding the doorway were alive with energy. They were an anthropologist's wet dream; the ancient script of Raiden's descendants speaking of timeless magic preceding the shinobi arts.

“Yes that’s me— or as close as you’ll get out here” returned a voice in baritone from the figure opposite Keunchin and Mirō. The voice came twice, both in a crackling headset delivery hardly separated from the static of poor reception, and the echoing call of the stranger. Just as he hinted, upon careful enough inspection— a skill made easier if Mirō used the enhanced perception of her sharingan— seams of chakra roiling within the body of that perfect copy revealed him to be a shadow clone. It was a clone of the fire variety at that, superheated by the inherent chakra nature of the real Kaji Okada.

“It seems that the timing of our meeting is a bit inopportune, but I wouldn’t take this risk without the absolute need for it.” The duplicate stepped forward then, closing the gap between himself and the pair of guests, though his attention was much more towards Mirō. “The village is more than capable of withstanding what’s come, at least, long enough for what I need you for… You won’t miss a thing out there.” And then he dared to turn his back on his present company and took the bothersome earpiece out.
“Come…” he bade them with a stern demeanor. “Time is of the essence.”

Perhaps Kaji Okada wanted to see if his successor was as stubborn as the rumor mill lead him to believe, after all, there was an attack in the midsts. But if he dared to pull her aside— and for this, it must have been something fairly important. The facsimile of Kaji began to lead a tour into the mouth of that doorway, easily stepping through offerings left by villagers at the aforementioned altar to Raiden. It seemed as if he didn’t care about the symbolic gifts at all, trampling offerings of wasted food in sacks and paltry sums of yen left by villagers who were better off keeping them. The doorway itself was more likely a mystical gateway than a physical entrance: the perfect defense against would-be thieves from an era where knowledge of this place was more common. The cause of the gold was something literal as the ground was littered with minted yen from across the ages.

“I didn’t expect you to bring a companion,” Kaji said, hardly masking his disappointment with a glance at Keunchin. His choice of words were telling, as was the way they shared personal space so easily. It was unprofessional, to say the least. “If he isn’t trustworthy, it will complicate matters moving forward” he warned Mirō, leaving her to understand the implications of bringing her plaything with her into the tomb. “But it’s your call. I’m here to show you the path through the tomb— the real me is clearing the way, eliminating any distractions to his goal. There is a lot more than just a few rooms, it’s an entire complex.”

Keeping with his instructions the duplicate kept walking, and if Mirō and Keunchin followed, the exit clamped shut behind them, sealing off others from haphazardly tailing them into the hallowed halls of Raiden. Leading them in, Kaji revealed a first chamber filled with treasures carved from the purest granite into the likeness of Raiden and his most favored children. Loose gold, silver, and copper coins were scattered everywhere, enough for a modest fortune in these modern times. This was no armory— at least not yet, but a massive axe was set into one wall, far too large for a shinobi to wield. The steel of its head was blueish and gleaming like glacial ice in the motes of light that fluttered in the chamber without a source. The clone disregarded it as just another object and looked to Mirō with a faint grin.

“As for you Lady Kagami, I owe you this much, don’t I? If not some helpful knowledge for my successor, than a gift only the treasure horde of a greedy god could give. Let me show you something that might come in handy.”

 

[Kagami Miro]

Stood resolute before the Kaji and the door littered with hieroglyphics Mirō collected her thoughts. To follow Kaji meant leaving her duties as Sennin in the middle of a war. Not something she was keen on doing, but the bounty of questions she wanted to ask him weighed heavy on the imaginary scale in her head. To reappear into the frame like a ghost in a Polaroid photo at a time of high stakes and pull her away to do Raiden knows what… Mirō mentally rolled her eyes. First Junko then Umashi and now the previous ANBU Sennin. An honor and a curse.

Fed up with indecisiveness in the palm of her hand her skin began to twister and pull into letters that molded themselves into a letter on a piece of paper. Hidden from sight Mirō looked over to one of her trusted captains. Right as those red hues met his own he pointed to himself in confusion. “Who me?” Knowing full well the intention behind Kaji’s words. “Please, Keunchin. Wait here and lead the command center for a short while.” Crystal blue eyes looked slyly at Kaji then back at his superior. Springing forward his hand grabbed Mirō’s and shook it with affirmation. “Your wish is my command.” Giggling like a child he knew she hated sugary comments. The hidden message transferred into his hand. “I know this is all a scheme so this old Sennin and ‘Woo!’ you into being his wife.” The laugh persisted while he backed away from Mirō.

An evil glare darted toward Keunchin who shrugged it off to switch channel frequencies. With disgust Mirō turned to follow the mysterious Kaji deeper into the depths of the altar. As the door sealed shut Keunchin called out “Have her back by 10 son!” having himself another laugh while fingers plucked away at the corners of the letter. Reading the note quickly if offered the code back to the office and another tidbit of information. “Oooh, Lord Kagami, you are too quick.” With one hand he amplified his natural lightning ability to act as a sturdy beacon between him and the command center.

Red hues took notice of the Kaji clone trample over the offerings left by downtrodden monks, village common folk and dying guests seeking eternal respite. Those kinds of subtle acts did more talking than the birds at dawn. It spoke of a person's innate character and so far Mirō took Kaji for an egomaniac. Her prejudices remained dormant as the door sealed shut. Nearly performing a full 360 in bewilderment. The small offerings outside were nothing compared to the monuments dedicated to Raiden himself. Against the wall lined a weapon she had never seen before, nor could she imagine. Just then Kaji spoke towards her. Those damn honorifics she would never get used to ran around her head. Once being the bearer of derogatory terms to call a slave and now a title that nobles held close to their hearts. Neither sat well in her mind.

The ‘gift’ Kaji proclaimed to bestow upon her had infinite possibilities. To trust the former ANBU Sennin was a given. However, cautious footing always bodes well for many ninja. If it was liable to overthrow the impending forces of the Tenouza with calculated precision and grace Mirō would snatch the opportunity at hand. Her plan to retrieve the weapon came with heavy risks that could not be overlooked. To reduce those to solidify the victory in the name of Kumogakure was link in a chain of Goals constricting her heart.

“Any knowledge or gifts to benefit our village are welcomed.” A half hearted smile appeared on her lips. Her eyes narrowed at his words. If it could aid the efforts at hand why did Kaji only request her and not the Raikage. In the Shinobi world information acts like poker chips. A win there and a small hit there were all necessary for higher stakes. As much as she wanted to question him further about withheld information there was a time and place.

 

[Okada Kaji]

And so the duo wandered deeper into the halls of that ancient deity, beyond the first chamber and into a tall passageway. Leading the march was the facsimile of Kaji, who spared Mirō from the constant bickering associated with such hollow moments. I suppose it isn’t so easy to hold a petty squabble with a stranger, rather, you’re left eyeing each other quietly and accessing their every move until your instincts have firmly decided a first impression. The occasional rumbling and groaning sound of the mountain in agony served as a reminder of the situation evolving above— time was of the essence, and yet, it was more than the weathering of age that left Kaji moving at an easy, careful pace.

“If I can be perfectly honest— there’s good reason for most of the features in these halls to stay put,” said the carbon copy in a hushed tone. He traced a finger on a wall lined with tungsten, displacing caked-on dust and drawing a symbol of some sort. A marking resembling a bird. “And yet, it burdens me to be the sole proprietor of this place… I doubt the Blue Lady or Lord Kogami will ever tell a soul about these chambers but it’s our obligation to…” He paused, cautiously reflecting, and showing an inner turmoil rare for a shadow clone. “It’s my naive hope in our legacies persisting, but, the next generation has to have its chance to be great— or make mistakes. “Perhaps one day they’ll feel the same, but I don’t think we can afford to put this off any longer.”

He suddenly held up a fist at eye level— the indicator to freeze, and revealed that their walkway came to a sudden end at a cavernous expanse with a long drop. Mirō seemed smart enough to not stroll off the edge, so Kaji couldn’t have been giving her pause to prevent that imbecilic move. Instead, he found purchase against the wall and looked over the edge of the passage, down to a ravine of precious metals in ore form. There was a pulsating blue light and something gargantuan beneath the metal bedding. Chunks of rock rolled with the rhythmic rise and fall of something alive, breathing, sleeping.

Not daring to speak within earshot of the thing sleeping below, Kaji began signaling Mirō with his hands instead, forming letters and words in an intricate silent hand code— one that he quickly grasped that she didn’t understand. He forged a scowl and a sigh escaped. He came close and whispered in her ear to keep the deathly silence of that chamber and said “how do you not know the silent hand code?! What are they teaching the trainees these days?” His bluster was somewhat facetious, knowing that the hand code was not native to the cloud anbu, rather something he brought with him all the way from Iwagakure. As Grand Commander, he attempted to implement the practice branch-wide, but some things just don’t stick after your tenure ends. He shook his head in disappointment and waved for Mirō to follow him out onto a ledge overlooking the cavern. For some reason likely lost in the hand signs, the sagely Kaji neglected to simply run along the wall of the cavern and instead proceeded to free climb out onto a ledge and up to a distant opposing opening.

With his agility mostly intact he found crevasses and old kunai wedged into the cavern wall like pitons to serve as hand and footholds. It must have been a fifty-foot climb to their destination. For the unknowing shinobi, a temptation to run up the wall was obvious. However, in Raiden’s throne, there were things that treated chakra like the rarest delight. Beneath the riches laid a beast of old which fed off the ore; a cavern keeper, a guardian, and an ancient ally from a time when a god walked the earth among the kumogakurians. Stones danced as its nostrils flared beneath the pile of glittering rubble. With luck, the thing was still sleeping, but another shockwave proved that to be impossible. Suddenly, one of the stones crumbled under Kaji, leaving him scrambling and a fist-sized chunk to plummet.

“Fuck” rasped Kaji, knowing the blunder would cost them dearly.

Seven smacks echoed aloud in a clatter heading down.

"Μπορώ να μυρίσω τα σκουλήκια που ανεβαίνουν από το έδαφος."
(I can smell the worms rising from the ground.)​

A massive voice boomed through the chamber, so great that humble human ears could barely discern the origin besides: below. Red spines flexed, rising from the rubble followed by a hide in metallic shades of blue so thick it could have passed for armor.

Μια... Δύο... Καταπατητές. Διαρρήκτες;
(One... Two... Trespassers? Burglars?)​

Dust scattered in plumes across the monster’s backside, spreading in wide berths around its gargantuan form. A wide, reptilian snout reached up and swept through the cloud with its tongue lashing. It’s maw split to reveal a wealth of great teeth like swords. The air began to smell like ozone as it let out a gut-wrenching roar. Eight claws crushed the earth beneath the beast as it crept forward and grabbed the cavern wall.

Τρέχει τόσο σύντομα; Ελάτε εμπρός, Αντιμετωπίστε τον τρώγοντα των ανθρώπων, και συναντήστε τον Θεό.
(Running so soon? Come forth, face the Eater of Men, and meet God.)​

A closer look revealed bright blue eyes with concentric circles staring wildly with mere black spots for irises. Kaji wasn’t looking back though, except for desperate glances over at his companion into the breach. At this point the stealth approach was futile, and the shadow clone began a vertical sprint towards an open path flush against the wall above.
With thunder came a burst of white lightning flashing on their shinobi heels.



— Here we go! Sorry for the wait but I'm back and ready for adventure.
— The Eater of Men is speaking Vulgar Ancient Kumogakurian.

 

[Kagami Miro]

Mirō followed in tow behind the clone of Kaji. The massive halls and the looming sense of dread and uncertainty lingered in the air like the fumes from a sulfur pit. The rumbling of the earth felt unnatural to her, something far different than what she had been accustomed to and an earthly shake that didn’t resemble the explosion of ammo or chakra bombs. “Something’s not quite right…” Mirō mumbled to herself.

As they walked, Kaji was struck with a burdening affliction. He spoke of the next generation to withhold the future of whatever he had to show her within Raiden’s resting place. If those of great power, in the past, had little to no access to this tomb what was the underlying reasoning. Red hues cut up to watch the man draw in the dust. Then his hand turned into a fist, giving a command to pause movement. Her hues began to squint at his sudden stillness but it was for aught. The expanse of the cavern opened up into a wide area. The hunch she had about the strange sounds proved to be true. Her eyes widened at the colossal beast that slept in the depths of the cavern.

Her hand covered her mouth to mute herself from an audible gasp of shock. Something this massive lied beneath the Sileo this entire time and she was none the wiser. Just what the hell was Kaji hiding the world from and a better question being… how the hell did he even get past this beast or put it to sleep! She blinked in bewilderment, Kaji leaned into her ear to whisper about the failed teachings of hand signs to her. Her head tilted while her mouth hung open. The audacity of him to blame the teaching of the younger generation. It’s HIS generation that failed to bestow their knowledge onto them. He was lucky he drifted away from her or else he’d get an earful of how his sudden absence put a dent in the passing of knowledge.

Her face remained paralyzed at the sudden act of a rock plummeting down the cavern and banging itself off other rocks on its way down. This was the prior ANBU Sennin? A comical jokester who had loud footsteps that worked in tandem with clumsy legs. Surely he had immense power or at least a gun to persuade others into the position. Her train of thought cut short as the booming voice of the guardian reverbed throughout the cavern walls. Her hands quickly covered her ears but even that didn’t seem to shake the vibrations in her ear drums. The beast spoke in an unknown language… however it sounded… familiar… ‘Ancient Kumo?’ Mirō thought to herself. She had never given the effort to learn it let alone crack open a book while she spent days at the library when she was a student. Ancient meant old, therefore no use to her in modern times. Red hues peered below to watch in horror as the beast began to stir and gaze directly at both of them. They were up shits creek now but paralytic fear didn’t immobilize her legs and train of thought. Her head snapped over to Kaji who already bolted up the cavern walls to a distant opening.

“An opening? You think that’s going to get--!” There was no time for discussion or petty squabbling. The serrated maw of the guardian opened wide, threatening to swallow any inhabitants that were dumb enough to remain stagnant. Within a split second all professionalism went out the window. Mirō’s hands began to peel apart into sheets of paper. As the beast drew near the paper over lapped itself to make small stepping stones that hovered in the air towards the opening. The stepping stones spaced themselves out haphazardly, it would have to make due. Without a second thought Mirō solidified chakra to the soles of her feet and leapt from paper lily pad to paper lily pad to the opening without ever thinking to look behind her. Not only because fear struck her heart but another urge to punch the back of clone Kaji’s head pushed her forward.

With great haste Mirō hopped, skipped, and jumped over to the opening in the wall of the cavern. The opening resembled a smaller opening than the grandiose one that held whatever the heck kind of dragon beast in the prior one. After leaping from the final paper lily pad onto stable flooring Mirō continued to dash past Kaji and down the stone hallway. The cliff end came up quickly, forcing her to slide to a halt right at the cliff's edge. “OH FOR RAIDEN’S SAKE. I’M ABOUT TO GIVE UP ON YOU KAJI!” The anger in her voice echoed through the hall. It took a tremendous amount of willpower not to awaken her EMS and simply open up a void and leave Kaji to his own devices. Mentally her mind held a scale of justice up, weighing the pros of leaving Kaji’s ass eaten by this behemoth through the void or… Mirō rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Where’s the real you? Get me out of this damn labyrinth before I leave your sorry ass here!” Frustration coated her words and left an evil glare on her once soft features. Totally permitted of course.

[WC:887]
[Sorry for the delay. Life happenings and the sort.]

 

[Okada Kaji]

There is an odd satisfaction in witnessing a ninja obeying their survival instincts. I mean, you might be surprised just how frequently the ANBU of old would valiantly— albeit foolishly, get swallowed up by an enemy’s barrage. Martyrdom is often the result of cowards placing someone who made a poor decision on a pedestal, while the strong use them like stepping stones on the path to greater glory. A pair of Sennin— ranking high amongst the power scale of the hidden cloud’s shinobi, might have posed a threat to the likes of the Eater of Men, but it would have been a fruitless encounter with what lay waiting on the surface.

Upon making her timely landing, Mirō proved to be capable enough to outmaneuver the clone— such was expected, even demanded in that instance. A swath of energy was gathered into a beam from the Eater. It scorched the cavern wall into a fresh shade of black and chased the pair of ninja into the crevasse like a foxhound following the trail of fresh hen’s blood. The beam was something between roiling flames and the instant nature of voltage, coming white-hot and blinding. The younger of the two Grand Commanders was just a few paces ahead of her predecessor, and the heat closing in upon her came to a sudden, abrupt halt. As Mirō shouted a scathing remark at the clone behind her, she likely missed the instance when he was bathed in light. There was a magical screen: the trigger of an intangible passage that severed any chances of harm coming to Mirō, but Kaji was not so lucky. Despite only being a shadow clone, the false Kaji was revealed, transmuted into a clay-like statue. It came into view, still steaming as the light faded. Hollow as the shadow-clones were, the petrified clone shattered an arm that was reaching forward in its last effort, dutifully triggering that barrier left behind by his true self. The ring-eyed Eater of Men was capable of a breath attack that rapidly petrified its targets at an incredible distance.

As Mirō’s frustration began to climb a bit of static noise chirped in her headset. Unlike the faintly transmissible sounds from higher in the Sileo, the sound of another— the really Kaji Okada could be heard, and he answered: “Turn around… I’m where I’ve always been, Kagami.” Over her shoulder, Mirō would have found an end to the short hall, and beyond that, a large chamber steeped in shadows. “Ten steps ahead of you.”

The adjoining chamber was yet another monument to the God known as Raiden, however, many of the artifacts on display had macabre themes. Wooden caskets with paper seals lined the room at floor level, all engraved with depictions of the interred sculpted into their covers. The upper sections of the side walls had long staircases that curved up the back of the chamber and led to troves of pots predating glass, and subsequently jars, all marked with specimens of notable remains. The back wall was mostly clear of treasures, and instead depicted paintings of familiar symbols: ancient bloodlines as the descendants of a divine progenitor. A single brazier hung on high from chains in the center of the room, lit with a living flame that spun and danced with shifting color; an imprisoned primordial culled into a mere light source. To a God, it appeared as if anything or one could be used like tools, toys, playthings.

In the center of the space, there was a throne carved from ivory. It was erected with hard angles and details worn away from the millennia. The throne was raised on a dais, and on the only point within the chamber where the shades of purples, greens, and orange did not dance their staccato. The flame-creature hissed and dimmed as a new creature approached the chamber. Calling from the seat of that throne came the sound of the voice from her headset, live and true; Kaji Okada, a heretic seated on Raiden’s throne.

Through the sight of her pinwheel eyes, Mirō could perceive much more than the chakra flowing through a man, rather a mass of it gathered around him, coalesced into the shape of a six-headed serpentine abomination; a spectral creature glowing in emeraldine green, waiting, writhing. The glow of his eyes matched the jeweled serpent’s vivacity with their glow, and together they resembled a centerpiece of Raiden’s collection. Kaji broke the silence of his evaluating stare to utter the words, “Just how far can you see… with those Sharingan of yours?”

 

[Kagami Miro]

Her frustration surged through her body, turning back around to see where Kaji’s clone had gotten too. Her eyes widened at the petrifying sight. Just before the entrance of the cavern a blinding white light illuminated the vicinity, engulfing the clone in an instant. The beam of light tore away the skin of the clone while simultaneously converting him into a statue that shattered into dust. “What the hell…” Mirō whispered to herself. A sense of sadness overtook her, even though it was merely a clone. She sucked her teeth, not towards the disintegration of the clone but at the unfathomable power the guardian wielded. An idea struck her mind like a chord, wondering about the limitless possibilities the world could offer if such a beast remained under her control.

The buzz of a foreign frequency rang throughout her brain. Her red hues cut over her shoulder, her body pivoted after scanning the area. Her arms rematerialized slowly back into their original state, only after she failed to use her hand as a visor to peer deeper into the darkness. Mirō moved carefully down the hall towards the open room. Upon entering it was telling of the type of character Okada Kaji is. Jewels, gold, jars filled with organs and eyes that floated in formulated liquids and the jarring rows of coffins, items such as these weren’t easy to obtain but who did they truly belong to? Raiden or Kaji? It resembled the locked laboratory within the depths of the medical branch hospital. Mirō’s eyes widened to allow her vision to pick up the chakra that surrounded the figure sitting pretty within the throne. A hand reached behind her back to grasp onto the hilt of her golden dagger that rested on her lower back. Just because Kaji had shown her his whereabouts didn’t mean she dumped all of her trust into him.

Mirō only reacted as such once her senses saw the lingering emerald hydra behind him. The heads moved and slithered back and forth, their glowing gaze fixated directly at her. The essence of chakra floated around Kaji but another different colored trail led off and away towards the center of the room. The flickering flame encapsulated in the fixture above radiated its own color of chakra. ‘Another beast?’ Then his words slithered past his lips. A fine brow cocked up directly towards him. If he attempted to shake her up with the presence of another primordial beast he’d have another thing coming. Her body remained resolute, the only trembling that occurred would be through the walls as the guardian rampaged about.

“Even with these eyes I can’t see into the future. I can only mold the present into the future I desire.” Mirō tread carefully with her words. The more she observed the room around her the more apparent the contents within the jars became. The eyes that floated within the jars were, of course, eyes of her peoples bloodline. That stigma of the Uchiha clan lingered above her wherever she went. Something she had grown tired of seeing. Those of the Uchiha clan may have had ill intent but some continued to carry one an honest life despite their history. Her mind ran across the multiple people who had the same blood as her. A notable figure being Shinrya Kitsune. Her Raikage had been kind and generous to her ever since she was a student and not once has she done her wrong. Others might not think like Mirō, but she had done no wrong. Everything Mirō had done had been for the greater good of the village, the one who saved her from a life of petty wandering in the mountains just to die a child.

‘Just how many of my people have had their vision… their lives… stolen just on the basis of their blood.’ A ball of hate coiled in her stomach. She proceeded to walk on thin ice, “Quite the welcoming party you’ve got. Pissed off rock lizards to spectre snakes… among other things.” She paused, “And not a party balloon or any cake. Is that any way to treat a guest in Raiden’s throne?” The hand on her hilt, recklessly moved away and had a finger rise to her temple to push rebellious strands of hair behind her ear. Subtly changing the frequency on her headset to the one Keunchin remained on before her hand fell back onto the hilt of her blade. Famous red hues returned to stare into Kaji’s own green eyes. “Want to explain why you called me down here and turned our god's throne into a storage house?”

 

[Okada Kaji]

Not one to tarry, Kaji Okada leaned forward out of the deep seat of the throne. He practically hopped down to his feet with a decisive thud with dust parting from beneath his boots. The granite throne must have been designed for a man who towered twelve feet from head to heel. Now that he was upright, the slant of his winter wolf’s cloak revealed a peculiar-looking weapon resting on his hip in its scabbard. It was a sword, a saber to be exact, with a faint sheen of tarnished metal as if it had been left on a rack for a decade. A barion cut emerald was embedded in its pommel which glowed like fire to the chakra-sensing kaleidoscope eye. There was a presence coming from it, a source of that emeraldine energy that projected the abominable specter behind Kaji. The way Kaji moved, it was as if he wasn’t aware of the towering monster to his rear. He took a step forward, approaching his successor with a cautious stride respectful of the tension and company likely on her highest guard. One of the monster’s many faces struck out— its changing angles revealed the curving snout and flat fish eye, one scarred blind by an opponent in life— not a snake but an eel jutting out at Kaji. The grip of its strong jaw could have crushed him in twine as it passed over him and yet it could do no harm, a mere soul trapped, bound to the blade. Each head let out a silent roar in protest, and they began to fight each other, unleashing the outrage at their impotence before fading into dispersing vapor, a galaxy of vibrant greens fading to darkness. It was one of several beings bound to the soul-thieving blade; the Orochi, or as Kaji dubbed it upon its founding a lifetime ago, the fabled blade Eelspine.

Taking the steps down, Kaji was all ears and eyes apparently, taking in Miro’s sarcasm in stride, daring to let a faint smile crease the right corner of his lips. “I said I had a gift for you, not a party to go along with it.” A snide chortle escaped. “The Eelspine and the Eater would make a pretty shitty guest list if you ask me— but I doubt we share too many friends between us. “Had I asked that Undying Crone to come down here she would have filled the place with henchman first… then who’d she have left to fight her war for her? If you can expect a monster called the Eater of Men to do one thing...” He bit off the joke and paused in thought for three beats exactly.

“This place is our legacy in the flesh.” He turned to glance at one of the distant sarcophagi with the carved image of a woman inscribed. Dots of gold were painted over her eyes, and her visage, familiar. “The treasured creations of Raiden returned to their cradle, from an age when the Kekkei Genkai was in its infancy. “When those deemed gifted enough would inherit the gifts of the fallen… kind of like the Harvesters.”


By then, Kaji had arrived at the base of the stairway and stood on an even keel with Miro, standing over her by less than a foot’s difference. Now, he could see the consternation on her face, clearly as sicked as he was. In fact, it was likely a yearning for clarity that kept her from drawing her weapon. “Good”, he thought. “She has temperance.” It was then that Kaji decided that he had chosen correctly by calling upon this young Grand Commander.
“I called you down here to make a choice for all of us…” Kaji said simply despite the implication weighing well into an invisible tonnage. “The Tenouza have always existed and always will because ultimately, they represent the plight of oppressed people. “Here in this chamber are the trophies of an ancient deity who saw fit to grant these gifts to his followers… To me, that doesn’t sound like guidance or charity. “Does it? “It’s bribery for worship by a petty creature weak to humanly desire. Meanwhile, the masses in the valley below were left feeling powerless, incapable of manifesting chakra… Ignored by Raiden, and left to fend for themselves against winter, like babes to the wolves.”

Before Miro stood a man left jaded by the world of the ninja. The knowledge of this vault which was more like a tomb was a curse to bear, and now he was presenting it to his successor. Perhaps Ayumu and Yuii were right to have swept it under the rug.

“To some, I might sound bitter… but they come from perspectives of people who’ve only benefited from the privilege their power has bought them. Noble clans like Shinrya won’t feel the brunt of the resistance coming from the Tenouza today; whatever they might lose will easily be replaced through vast wealth. “Some of our ninja will die on the battlefield, but they’ll pale in comparison to the onslaught we’ll issue the Tenouzan uprising. “It’ll be devastating… and plant the seeds for another uprising fifteen years from now.” What Kaji was working towards was no gift, it was an impossible decision in the making. “We’re standing on the footnote of a major moment in the future of our people, Kagami. This hidden palace represents a history of the ninja being a tool… you could take the things stored here, end the war as soon as it starts, but widen the gap between the strong and the weak.” As he spoke, two spectral beings emerged behind Kaji, one behind each shoulder; spirits from Eelspine who emerged as witnesses. Both were clearly ANBU from foreign lands, yet one appeared symbolical of light, and the other in dark garb. Kaji ignored them, continuing: “Or you can renounce it all… I have an idea to bring this tomb down and erase the secrets of Raiden forever. But doing that will also provide its own boon, unleashing the stored might of the Storm Lord in this vault into a fast-fading but incredible force: a figment of power known as a primordial. "I'm presenting you this choice because it will be your generation that lives with the result of it.”

 

[Kagami Miro]

At the base of the long elevator Keunchin stood with his back pressed against the wall. A poorly constructed cigarette was brought to his lips. Flick… Flick, Flick….FLICK. The lighter finally igniting to burn the end of the cancer stick, he took a deep inhale. A free hand fell down towards the small radio transmitter at his hip. Turning up the volume to listen in to the conversation between Kaji and Mirō.

Those red hues never wavered, even when Kaji approached the young sennin. Mirō refrained from cutting him off, ‘Harvesters…’ Little did he know that she and Midori wiped that branch completely off the map. Regardless, Kaji’s words had reached Mirō. This old nin had his fair share of experiences in the world, those emerald eyes had seen many terrors and plights that plagued the ninja world. Greed, ego, pride, blood, death. All prevalent factors to mold a delicate human into one of vengeance and hate. ‘And they say us Uchiha are edgy.’ Mirō thought to herself, then he said the phrase she had lived by since the ninja academy. A self taught ideal that had been solidified during her time spent within the ANBU.

‘Ninja are tools.’ She snickered which turned out into a boisterous guffaw. Mirō knew very little of the life Kaji had lived and the same could be said by him to her. Nobility was something she had never dealt with and from the outside looking up they were all snobs who thought they were better purely based on lucky birth. She was born into a poor family then lived the hard life of a slave… Now look at her. All Nobles knew were be rich, eat tempura and lie. She had seen nobles buy and sell slaves, abuse them and use them to their own benefits as if they weren’t human. Nobles needed to be knocked down a peg but the Shinrya clan had done her no wrong, personally. Kaji’s thinking must’ve been molded by years of unruly actions by them. Now he placed the supposed fate of the tomb on her shoulders. The burden of his history is now on her shoulders.

Mirō couldn’t help but silently shake her head side to side. “All of this is assuming I’d idly sit by and follow the Raikage’s orders like a mutt on a leash.” Speaking clearly she looked up and away from Kaji, her hand fell off the hilt of her dagger and relaxed her stance “I don’t know the differences you both have but I won’t let those disrupt my goals. Neither you or the Raikage. The ninja within the village are tools but it’s up to the hand that wields them to use them properly. I know my operatives have lives outside of their work. I have no intention to throw away their lives so carelessly.” That has been true on many occasions. Hell, if the odds weren’t in the ANBU favor she personally took matters in her own hands. Too many examples to name.

“The war will be over and we will be the victors. It is not in my job description to reduce the game between the poor and wealthy but I will have my say in political matters that threaten to widen the gap.” Mirō held her tongue. Blindly following the Raikage made her no better than a dog, if any decision to harm those less fortunate Mirō would veto the ideal. “As for the Tenouza… before we blame them as a whole we must first pin the blame on their government, not the people. Once they have been dealt with their people will decide their own fate. If it is vengeance, my idea for Kumo is peace between us.”

Her attention turned back to Kaji, “If this place is destroyed, how are you going to harness this primordial? Same way you’ve done with that hydra?” Mulling over the possibilities Mirō’s mind ran though the future of a tomb without Raiden. It’s purpose as of late was to hold our supposed god, but from further inspection it was slowly turned into a store house and no sight of Raiden’s bones. Without much more thought her mind had been made up. “To seal it away and binded to the soul like a contract… is that an option.” Her golden dagger shook with irritation. ‘Think you can just replace me?’ Those red hues rolled in her imagination. ‘You are irreplaceable. What I seek is power. You know my goals.’ She responded. Naibu remained silent, loathe the idea to share her soul with another.

 

[Okada Kaji]

Haze grey hues fluttered softly in the heavy winter fabrics all about Kaji Okada, and yet he stood firm, unyielding like the mountain on which the village stood. The persona of the hunter prowling emanated from him in the way he tracked the subtle changes in Mirō’s inflection, posture, and every antsy motion towards or away from her gilded dagger. Mirō Kagami was not this hunter’s prey though, rather, Kaji was measuring the sum of her being, their coming mission, and a curiosity in the prodigal child-sennin. At sixteen, Mirō was only two years older than his own daughter Umeko, and yet the contrast between the girls could not have been more extreme. Like her predecessor, Kaji looked upon Mirō with pride in what she had become so quickly, but as a father and mentor, he pitied the way of life such success often required from the likes of a child. Of course, he had not delved into her personal files as he would have as her Grand Commander, but her words and the conviction behind them told her story for her.

Miro endorsed the old platitude about shinobi being tools, one that conjured the metallic taste of blood on Kaji’s tongue from some stale figment of his imagination. There was once a younger Kaji Okada, one in his prime and still bearing the seals of Master Iwakura’s ANBU Cell upon his back like the burned in glyphs that they were. Picture him, a young shinobi raised in the night, pale from the lack of sun and shaped into a hard body with minimal fat and excess. His hair was still silky in perfect noir, and his eyes a dull olive before he met his fated instrument. Down poured the blood as if from a faucet, and it covered him completely, sticky, and still ninety-six point eight degrees Fahrenheit fresh. The boy gazed up with dry, sleepless eyes, looking into the perfectly white lights of an operating room. Living a nightmare, he saw the very same children who joined him that day when his master pulled them off the streets. His kin and teammates: the first, Heizo, hanging with only his upper body left, charred black from the lava flow that claimed his remains; their master’s chains held him aloft. To the right, the beautiful Xinyue was still fully intact— her skin remained glossy and golden brown, with supple innocent indignantly on display, streaked with blood from the hooks that held her aloft like Heizo. Unlike the timid Heizo, Xinyue was tried for murdering him and put to death through tortures of the mind and left unmarred. After all, Master Iwakura did admire her looks. In this memory, the young Kaji lived behind some wall or barrier, but it resembled him as just another shinobi for the slaughter, laying on the white table and white styrofoam board. Washed in the blood of his comrades for flavor, he was afterward wrapped in plastic and labeled: ANBU Mempo, On Sale! Indeed, that old platitude that shinobi were deployed at the discretion of their leaders as tools often developed much more dangerous ideologies.

“I’m not sure we are in a total accord here, but it seems as if we at least agree on the course of action,” said Kaji, shifting his gaze upwards at the suspended flaming cage. “My plan is simple— above us, that brazier is acting as a sealing container for the primordial, which is a manifestation of Raiden’s power left in our world after his departure. “It is entropy and elemental energy gathered to the point that it has developed a sentience of its own.” With eight years off the radar, just how much of that time had Kaji Okada spent away from his family, absconded into that menacing vault, and researching how to undo this very construct? The depth of this scheme was finally reaching fruition and was only propelled by the sudden cause of war, or was that just according to keikaku as well? “We’re going to free it,” he said, confidently. “Elemental jutsu won’t do it though, the primordial will just absorb it and the brazier is designed to keep an infinite amount contained. "The brazier itself has to have a damage threshold though, so it’s time to show me what you can do with Taijutsu. “We focus a physical assault with perfect timing— that should have enough impact to break the seal… I’m certain our friend here will handle the rest of their escape.” The lights within the room continued to flicker and flash in a myriad of colors, causing the heat in the chamber to fluctuate rapidly in turn. The crackle of energy came in waves, and if you listened closely enough, a strange pattern registered like a cipher: a language of semi-intelligent energy. “In fact, I’m sure it wants to be freed… But, there’s no telling exactly what course it will take with that freedom. “But a storm has one innate purpose we can rely on— to rage.”

​

It was then that Kaji swept an arm crosswise, shoving aside the wolven cloak in that rush and revealing an intense resonance with Eelspine. In that same motion, his hand gripped the hilt of the blade and it flashed light from the barion emerald in a white-hot glow. Out flashed the curved saber, shaped from a silvery metal by a six-armed demi-god among men. The sound of several pounding hammers heaving by one legendary creature echoed through the chamber, the hammer’s song, echoing in the celebration by the sentient blade as the time had come to be wielded. In his mind, Kaji heard the exalted cry of his mighty blade yelling “Use me Kaji Okada… swing me!” But Kaji remained focused, ignoring the fervor of his thirsty weapon. Years had passed since Kaji last wielded Eelspine, and now its thirst for souls had it spiraling into a craze. “Thrust me, and I shall drink the light of that accursed godling!”

“You will have it” Kaji lied, taunting his weapon with thoughts he could transmit back to the blade at will, surely a practice that did not come easily. But that simple promise conjured a powerful response from the saber, and swelled with emeraldine chakra, bigger and brighter, humming like hard light and hot like a condensed star. Taking a two-handed grip, Kaji steadied himself, almost forgetting how painful it was to maintain a hold on the Eelspine when it was… riled up. The heat of the hilt was making his gloves smolder, surely burning his palms within. Unable to hold that form for too long, Kaji sprung into action and took a hand away from the blade long enough to weave several one-handed seals with practiced accuracy. As he resumed his striking grip he began a vertical climb, vaulting through the air on circular disks of a violet, mystical force. A shinobi could not fly but this one had a workaround.

The seconds slowed to a single heavy tick and tock as Kaji closed in on the illuminated brazier, moving in a curving approach to time the stroke of his blade perfectly. He required Mirō as she did him in a single, tandem blow: two blades piecing one point. The feet between the brazier and the blade became mere inches, and the massive power coalesced into those writhing sea-serpent heads coiling around Kaji. And the brazier was ready: magical runes glowed defiantly, revealing the barrier which expected to eat the attack and keep the primordial caged. With a deep clunk and clang, the sound of metal cracking echoed out, even causing the Eater of Men to reopen those resting ringed eyes.


- Translation: Keikaku means plan.
- Kaji Activates Tsukumogami Archsage Mode and equips Eelspine using Soul Regalia: Legendary Weapon.
- Kaji Targets Raiden's Primordial Brazier with Seraph's Might, applying Exalted Dependent move Clarity Strike: Hit! Crit!

 

[Kagami Miro]

Ready to relieve this tomb of the primordial, a buzz of static rang in Mirō’s ear. “The hells are you planning to do?!” Barked Keunchin. In his mind this plot seemed like a ruse just to destroy the tomb. “You do recall that the god damn Sileo is right above this place? We spent a good fifteen minutes in that elevator to come all the way down here and now you side with this… stranger?” Mirō fell silent. Her pink lips curled inward to be bitten down on. May hap she rushed her decision to side with Kaji. “Tch. No.. No… You’re wrong.” She responded back, without a care if Kaji overheard. “The Sileo will be fine. Return there.” “And let you di-” “That’s an order!” Mirō commanded over the headset. Keunchin sucked his teeth, wanting the best for his commander was his only reason for following her this far. His mind began to race with an infinite amount of reasons why Mirō took this course of action. “I’ll explain everything to you when I return. Please… head back to the Sileo.” Her left hand curled into a tight fist, shaking with uncertainty. “Ten-Four, my Lord.”

That phrase allowed her guilt to fade away. Keunchin rose up from a fall rock he sat on. With one hand he took the radio beacon and walked over towards the bridge where both parted ways. With a heave he tossed the beacon down into the white abyss. “Heh, maybe that barrier will save you.” His index finger dug out his ear piece and that too was flicked into the abyss. Keunchin moved towards the elevator door, waiting for it to open and stepping inside he turned around to face the bridge. With a smug grin the door shut and lifted him away.

Mirō turned her attention back to Kaji. Their goals required different paths that brought them to the same end. A search for power… to ease a weighted burden. Kaji knew little of the Sennins past and it was best for him to remain in the fog. Those five years a slave still plague her dreams. Some of her scars were even self-inflicted, in an unforgiving effort to change how she perceived her body. Her mind occasionally falling into that deep hole the golden dagger on her back called out to her. Mirō blinked back into reality, catching Kaji’s words about using taijutsu to pierce the brazier.

Taijutsu. As flexible, agile and acrobatic as she was, melee taijutsu was one of her weaknesses. Mirō wasn’t a pushover in a close quarters fight, but a master samurai would break her wrist with just the hilt of his blade. The best approach she always used was from afar. Mix ups with clones and genjutsu. This case was no different. Kaji called forth the power of his blade to surround his vessel. At the sight of his mastery over his contract a small appeared at the corner of her lips.

Like a bolt of lightning Mirō dashed past the man. From her hip holster Mirō withdrew her signature Heartseekers. Ebony in color, reinforced western steel kunai that had been her trusty weapon of choice even before she made her soul pact with Naibu. Hopefully Naibu would understand why she hadn’t been summoned or even chosen to be that weapon of choice. There was no guarantee that Mirō could retrieve her before the whole place crumbled into nothing. As her hand clasped the hilt of her Heartseeker chakra surged through her hand, increasing the weight of her kunai while turning into a sliding stop just before the massive throne Kaji once sat on. The point of the ebony kunai pointed directly towards the brazier. Within second the kunai began to multiply into hundreds of identical kunai that quickly twirled around the center to form a spinning drill of kunai. Her left hand gripped her forearm while the drill of kunai surrounded her wrist. Beads of sweat formed at her temples, burning through chakra to maintain her attack and to focus on what came next.

​

Kaji leapt from platform to platform and just before the dream-like blade lurched forward Mirō launched her attack with incredible force from her mastery of gravity control. Her attack had been woven carefully, a beautiful sight as the drill of kunai propelled itself forward just as Kaji impaled the brazier. “Meteor Breaker!” Mirō let out a powerful roar, years of dust and stone blew back behind her. The force behind her attack warped the sound barrier around her.

With gritted teeth her red hues focused on the point where Kaji thrusted. The colors of chakra that radiated around it, painting those hues on the ceilings and wall flickered off for mere moments. The devastating heat and power that emanated from his blade alongside the weighted drilling power of Mirō’s Meteor Breaker forced their energy to attempt to pierce through the elemental barrier. The sound that deafened the tomb bounced off the walls as the barrier began to crack and implode.

[Cast Weighted Rock Technique on Heartseekers.]
[Cast Meteor Breaker with Inertia Control.]

 

[Okada Kaji]

​

One could only imagine the thoughts racing through the head of Keunchin Fukaku at that moment. It was perhaps the most frightening aspect of any partnership; moments of blind trust that often broke bonds as often as it led ninja to forsake their orders. It hampers the masculinity of a man particularly to watch their romantic interest be coaxed out of their care, not that Keunchin would dare think Miro to be incapable of protecting herself. It must have been humiliating to some degree, being told— no, ordered by his superior to wait obediently. He must have resembled a scolded dog hurrying under the dining room table with their tail tucked between their legs as he entered the elevator, no doubt in an angry strut to mask his shame. It was the stuff of nightmares, the kind that filled the stomach with prickly barbs and crawling worms that squirmed incessantly. He spoke of the fear that Kaji Okada might be using Miro to help bring down that tomb, but as well as the Sileo Tempestas on top of it. Yes, it was a grand scheme, the kind for the history books and really, only he could see it? No. That couldn’t have been a great fear whelming his mind. No. He must not have feared the ceiling coming down on top of Miro Kagami but rather that imposter lover; a better man in every sense of the word. Yes, Kaji Okada was twice the man as Keuchin Fukaku: the wisdom of the ages, worldliness spoken through a deep baritone in a suave Maruishian accent. If he did not steal her attention with his rugged handsomeness, he would surely draw her in with the temptation of his power. The unsettling imagery of his beau intertwined with that man and his piercing emerald eyes gazing into her soul with a burning passion— they were thoughts that couldn’t have possibly escaped his mind, though that’s none of my business. Surely, he was going to make a real woman out of her the moment all of this war debacle was resolved by the bastard’s primordial scheme. Every bump of the elevator careering through the shaft felt like heavenly bodies colliding; the beginning of the end of his little world. The speed of the chain slipping through the bearings amidst the mountain rocking sounded like fast-paced, hard slapping with an unrelenting rhythm. However, If such a notion ever crossed the mind of Kaji though, he would have laughed his way into a nosebleed and say— “not even if our lives depended on it!” In this case, they probably would.

Also, most of the possible fears plaguing Keunchin would go unfounded, save for the very real possibility of a cave in causing the foundation of the Hidden Cloud to crumple in upon itself. It would have been foolhardy of the Cloud shinobi to design several layers of subterranean complexes without taking cave-ins into consideration, what with many enemy factions having very capable earth-style users. Throughout the Sileo, there were some fairly old seals designed to create stone pillars when triggered, which, in theory, would guarantee stability in the face of a potential collapse. Enough seismic activity might do the job to trigger them, though Kaji didn’t consider that they might have been rendered inert over time. It was too late for speculation though, as it was time to see the product of that planning unfold.

Wise shinobi fell away from the brazier as soon as their

attacks were complete. The shattering of metal is always violent, yet this eruption was more akin to a rift opening to an apocalyptic event. The binds of the brazier were sundered into smoldering ions by a mass of writhing, living voltage. The oxygen and dust within the chamber were being consumed as a swirl of black clouds gathered overhead, one with vibrant streaks of purple light. It was dazzling, so bright that it demanded you spare your naked eyes or risk going blind from a prolonged stare. The living storm, a primordial spurn from Raiden was free and rapidly growing to an unforetold mass.

“Alright, the easy part is over and done,” said Kaji as he regrouped near Miro but didn’t stop for the chat. Eelspine was already tucked away, back into its sheath as Kaji made his way towards the entry leading back to the Eater of Men. The dangerous man had a dangerous scheme, and with the mass of pots and jars already being stricken and exploded by bolts of stray plasma, it was clear that the storm was commencing its aimless reckoning. Looking back, Kaji held a satisfied grin as the last thing he saw within the consumed chamber was Raiden’s throne being swept aside like rubbish in a heap of bones and stones. “She’s moving fast” Kaji shouted over the cacophony of thunder. “A little faster than I anticipated—” he was still speaking some worthless joke but was muted by the duality of the maelstrom behind them, and the stirring roar of the Eater of Men, who was clearly still in a rage beyond the tunnel’s other end. Looks like Keunchin was going to be right on all accounts; not only was the Tomb of the Storm Lord about to fall down on top of Miro, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, thoroughly fucked.

 

[Kagami Miro]

Perfection. The power behind their attacks pierced the elemental barrier that encased the brazier. Mirō let out a desperately held breath, trying to get even the smallest breath of air the blinding light paralyzed her. Kaji had been swift. Storing his weapon away he was already bounding away to try and bail on the situation. At the sight of his retreat something had awakened in Mirō. Mentally capturing his departure, pent up anger and exhaustion took its toll on her body reacting instinctively. She refused to die. Especially not somewhere so befitting for a shinobi. Deep into Raiden’s tomb, it would be an honor for most but Mirō had unfinished business she needed to attend to.

​

Her red hues widened and her famous red sharingan swirled once more to awaken her eternal mangekyou sharingan. Blood welled up around her eyes and began to stream down her scarred cheeks. Through the wildfire of lights and the primordials reckoning a black rectangle unzipped from reality behind her. A sharp pain coursed through her body that lingered behind both of her eyes. The black abyss opened up wide enough in the shape of a doorway, acting like a life size vacuum the debris scattered throughout the room edged themselves closer to the doorway. Only after Mirō’s head fell into her hand. Peering through her fingers she gritted her teeth at the sight of Kaji and the flailing energy. ‘Then perish.’ She thought to herself, jumping backwards into the black void.

As she entered Mirō found herself falling into the hollow. Giant dark blue marble pillars scattered out at different heights as far as the eye could see. The super black depths hid the foundation of the massive pillars and the eerie silence was enough to drive the inexperienced mad. Mirō fell from a great height onto her side with a thud. A groan of pain escaped her lips. Her blurred vision glanced up at the opening that slowly began to close. She was safe… but it only lasted a matter of seconds. The black doorway was kept open by the violent primordial. The radiant light that surged around the beast began to pour into the abyss. “Oh.. come on…” Mirō groaned once more. She began to crawl away on the marble tower. Most of her chakra had been used up to break the barrier that surrounded the beast and then make a painful escape out. Using paper ninjutsu to mend her arm was out of the question. One foot after the next, Mirō forced herself to stand. ‘You damn fool. Now you can’t even summon me to aid you.’ Naibu chimed into her brain. ‘Must… flee… Deal with… this later…’ Her words even slurred in her mind. The little chakra she had left began to mold itself at the soles of her feet. Her free hand clutched her right arm. She squatted down to charge up her next leap, then she fired off and away.

​

Bounding from pillar to pillar to get some distance between the doorway and her. Sliding to a halt to mold the marble on one of the tops of the flat stone pillars. She began to fade in and out of consciousness. The final mold was a stone copy of herself left for the primordial to find. A small glimmer of hope from her distraction was enough to push her forward. Continuing to leave the scene Mirō needed to gain a lot of distance in order to recover safely and leave this accursed hollow that now began to fill with the unstable energy of the primordial. “That damn Kaji. If the whole tomb… crumbles I’ll pin this shit on him…” Cursing his name, devious ideas filled her brain.

The black doorway had remained open until the unstable chakra of the primordial had been fully sucked into the hollow. The suction was enough to soak up the primordial. Was Kaji stronger than it, enough to not get sucked in.


[WC: 658]
[Topic Left]

 

[Okada Kaji]

The greatest moments of our lives are often the ones without a witness. Those instances of absolute anomaly where our own legends are born; the ones where we live our truth, while others can only speculate, believe, or deny. As I scribe this moment, it has occurred to me that you’ll be the sole custodian to the following event. Some stories won’t hold their own over coffee and cigarettes. Kaji Okada wasn’t the type to brag about his encounters; his lifetime of close calls and scrapes with death inevitably shrank into ennui. He’d much sooner discuss the intricacies of horseshoeing a finicky old mare or debate why the chicken frontega panini was peak “sandwich culture”. Consider the reputation to be upheld by a true shinobi. Even the slightest embellishment could reduce a living legend to a caricature. One single shinobi could never slay a dragon and live to tell the tale, and any claim of doing so is utter horse shit, or so it goes.

Perhaps two shinobi had believable odds against the Eater of Men... No, two only meant twice as unwise— but a glance over Kaji’s shoulder revealed that chance slipping away. “Did the brat just eat it?” He mused.

The repertoire of the Uchiha’s pinwheel eye was considerable. Despite Kaji making an effort to understand the Uchiha abilities, it was quite rare to discover an Uchiha with that ability. Not in forty-something years of service had Kaji witnessed the shattering of the impermeable wall between dimensions first-hand. The portal was a rare type of technique known as space-time jutsu; finally, something that could answer to the melancholy of having seen-it-all. Yet, as soon as the blinking vortex unfolded and Mirō Kagami made her escape, a black brume swallowed the doorway. The Raiden-spurned elemental was coiling over it madly as the avatar of a storm in its purest state. Its thunder was the pushing of atoms, thumping like a god-heart as matter gave way with its every shift, and the vortex blink was agape, swallowing the fury. The throne room was utterly erased, folding in upon itself. A sliver of a deity’s legacy in the mortal realm was eliminated by the Sennin of Scheming, surely, an act that would follow Kaji Okada into the afterlife; branded a heretic of the Storm Lord, now and forevermore, he became Okada the God Foe.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ​

On came the howl of wind and it swept over Kaji’s back, easily taking him from his feet and deafening him to a high-frequency hum in the same blow. The storm shot the mere human through the antechamber like ammo from a barrel. He bounced in his flight like a ragdoll against the rough stone and stalagmites, pinballing towards greater peril. He tried to draw Eelspine in a desperate play to waylay the plummet but another collision in the dark met his elbow with an unyielding block of granite, and the sword slipped from his grasp mid-draw. As he spun through the shattering block, Eelspine too fled from its sheath. The saber went free and flying in some divine coincidence or an act of defiance by the sentient blade.

With his ears ringing a death chime and his vision twirling, Kaji watched as his blade spun away into the dragon’s cavern with that barion emerald twinkling between each rotation. Kaji was reaching futilely as fate twisted like a knife in his gut, only to be seized by jagged ice snagging his wintry wolf cloak. The cloak held him like a harness against the onslaught, and yet it was tightening, constricting around his throat as the storm continued its pressing winds. Kaji’s hands reached in the dark, pleading for Eelspine, but a white flash of extreme heat came on, blinding. At the moment the sword appeared outside of the antechamber the eyes of the Eater were on the blade, impossibly keen. At its first chance, the dragon was unleashing its fiery breath with hopes of incinerating an intruder.

There was a shock through his nerves, an intense pain rushing through Kaji from tip to toe. An illusion broadcasted from Eelspine as it bathed in the Eater’s weaponized breath. His mental link with Eelspine meant sharing every sensation from the blade, both the ecstasy of easily cleaving through a living thing and the agony of clashing metal on metal. But the cry of Eelspine was faint as the sword fell farther, rather it paled in comparison to his own. The flash of heat left Kaji blistering red, captured within the fringes of that same blast. He was like a cut of meat over the flame, struggling to shield his face as he the indirect heat scorched at him. A roaring scream escaped from the bottom of his diaphragm, muted by the thunder and fire, and chocked by the pelt tight around his throat.

Some moments defy any idea of legend or might, and luck simply humbles you. Kaji’s strength was quickly waning as he was subject to a nightmarish force holding him aloft, brutally lynching him. Against the God Storm, no amount of legend would prevail: Kaji Okada was as good as dead. The primordial was naturally expanding out of the calamity it created. It pushed forth, slowly giving chase to approaching Kaji through the narrow antechamber connecting the doomed throne to the cavernous expanse where the Storm Lord’s dragon laid in waiting. Seemingly patient, the storm revealed an affinity for playing with its toys, true to form as a god-thing. Was it enjoying this? Had it found some levity in the slow killing of the mortal who designed its liberation? In what he truly thought to be his final moment, Kaji was too selfish to consider that he might have doomed his successor Mirō to a similar fate. Suddenly, such a noble scheme was instead disgraceful, should the half-pint Sennin die due to poor planning by Kaji. Instead of that remorse, his mind was darkening to the broader implications of such a pathetic demise. You could live your life claiming to be at peace with the bed you make and eventually have to lay in, but even the most practiced warrior claws helplessly when death comes to drag them away. He decided that this would make a disappointing death— not the asphyxiation, but the lonesomeness of it all, crushed between two behemoths.

A slackening! Air seeped through to his lungs as rips in the fabric offered Kaji a hint of salvation. The wolven cloak was split into a forked tail but the captive was free, back into the grasp of the primordial cyclone. Another rolling skid across the floor gave Kaji certainty that the release from his lynching was not a figment of death taking him. The wind was still pushing him and yet it diminished near the tunnel’s edge. If not for the wracking pain he might have cracked a smile… Was the primordial nearing some limitation to its expansion already? Kaji doubted the idea. The storm had to have been playing at something new, perhaps weighing options, sensing something beyond the rage of being bottled up. Below them was the Eater, whose power held a presence that jostled the heart just by being near them. For Kaji to fear the Eater of Men was natural, even due reverence… But, the Primordial could fear?

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ​

Few creatures, human or otherwise, possess both a genius intellect and the bestial superiority of an apex predator: yet it was a basic prerequisite of the Dragon. The Eater of Men was an ancient being who survived the ages before apes stood tall. In the time of man’s creation, it was the Eater who weeded out the worthy from the weak, or so they believed with unshakable confidence. It was their breathing that inspired the primitive men to worship the likes of Raiden, for they might fear the dragon’s might, but worship a meager contemporary so long as it came bearing their likeness. To the dragon, it was so pathetic how mankind so easily welcomed anything on two legs with no tail, and yet it gained Raiden a followership that came to spell doom for the apex predator. Much like the primordial, the Eater of Men was subject to a petty deity who shelved creatures like trophies on the mantle. The implements found within Raiden’s throne room were powerful indeed, so much that they could be used to subjugate a being as powerful as the Eater of Men. The dragon so ancient and mighty was stripped of its great wisdom, and its hatred of man left to fester without the memories to reason why.

So when Kaji Okada emerged from the antechamber, thrown like a ragdoll by the primordial wind, the Eater of Men answered the challenge of their namesake. The gargantuan lizard propelled itself with the efficacy of a shuttle launching. Streams of debris fell like a rain of dust as the dragon shifted plate-like scales that never flexed. The air was still hot from the eater’s last burst of vaporizing breath, and yet the monster’s chest was brightening in shades of purple, building the salvo for another atomizing blast. This great wyrm did not care if its human was served cooked or raw as it lifted towards the plummeting Kaji with its mouth opened wide.

Without Eelspine in hand, falling towards the Eater of Men was the equivalent of charging headlong on foot into opposite traffic, if the oncoming cars also had lasers mounted on their hoods.

"Ο διαρρήκτης έχει γίνει ο αιρετικός και κερδίζει τη μανία του Κυρίου.”
“The burglar has become the heretic and earns the fury of the Lord.”​

The Eater’s diatribe came in that ancient tongue, and Kaji dreaded to think that there was any bargaining with him was missing due to incomprehension. Instead, he drove his hands together to form three hand seals— those familiar violet disks flashed, and a mere human achieved the ability to redirected himself mid-air. Narrowly, Kaji leaped over the clenched jaws of the Eater of Men and touched down on the dragon’s snout in a headlong sprint. The Eater jerked its neck upwards to throw its rider but Kaji was already bounding down the nape and onto its shoulders.

“What if I said you were wasting your time?” Shouting up at the great wyrm was as useful as pissing in the wind, yet Kaji dared to snipe at the dragon. “We’re better off working together, but I doubt that’s your style.”
The eater drove its head back and scraped its face atop its shoulders like a preening cat but Kaji slipped the strike narrowly. There were thick metal rods extruded from the Eater of Men’s neck in pairs, all stabbed unnaturally like subdermal piercings but much deeper, running down its spine through to its tail.

"Καμία ανταλλαγή δεν θα επηρεάσει την κρίση του Άρχοντα της καταιγίδας, αιρετικός ... αλλά το μπιχλιμπίδι σας θα είναι μια ωραία προσθήκη στο θησαυρό του.”
“No bartering will waylay the Storm Lord’s judgment, heretic… But your trinket will be a fine addition to his hoard.”​

While Kaji would likely never learn ancient kaminarian, something of the curl in the dragon’s cheek insisted that he should have felt insulted by the last remark.
“Wait till I find my sword— it’s over for you, Gojira!” Ironically, barking back elicited a roar in protest from the Eater, further cementing that the language barrier was a shared point of tension between the human and great wyrm foes.
Not as patient as the Primordial, the Eater leveled its maw at Kaji once again, apparently willing to shower its own backside with that vaporizing breath just to vanquish him, but the sound of a devastating crack stole away the dragon’s focus. The cavern wall facing the old throne room was rippling with lesions, and then, plumes of black miasma piping out of the crevasse like smog from a pipeline. Thunder rang out and the mountain shook… an avalanche of stone collapsed, pinning down upon one of the dragon’s flaccid wings, earning a pained roar unlike anything earned from the wyrm before. Rather than unleashing the expected burst of fiery breath, there was a glint of recognition in the eyes of the Eater of Men, and it announced:

"Ο Θεός της ανθισμένης βροντής. Ξύπνησες χίλια χρόνια πολύ σύντομα, αναταράξεις. Αυτό δεν ήταν το σχέδιο του Κυρίου.”
“The blossoming Raijin! You’ve awoken a thousand years too soon, Rankiryū. This was not the Storm Lord’s design.”​

The black clouds of the storm gathered in a great mass, filling the canyon-like chamber with pulsating violet light as voltage coalesced behind the coils of thunderclouds. With every stray bolt of lightning, the energy within the cloud shifted, traveling around in increasing patterns until they resembled the features of a face more draconic than humanoid. Thunder rolling, lightning flickering, all noise gathering to resemble something: verbal crackles in the ancient tongue.

"Τι είναι χιλιετίες για το παιδί του Θεού, αλλά οι αναλαμπές των ματιών, μεγάλος δράκος.
Ο αφέντης σου είναι πολύ νεκρός για σένα και παρόλα αυτά παραμένεις αλυσοδεμένος. Ο χρόνος πλησιάζει για το τρέμουλο! Παρακούστε την ορδή της καταιγίδας και να υποκλιθεί από μένα όπως ήσασταν από τον κύριό σας.”
“What is a millennium to the godling but the blinks of eyes, great wyrm.
Your master is long dead to you and yet you remain shackled. The time is nigh for the trembling! Disobey the ordning of the Storm and be cowed by me as you were by your master.”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ​

A bit of distraction was all it took to get Kaji some space apart from the Eater of Men, though a worsening situation was still brewing. Hidden in some alcove beneath some fallen pillars of a forgotten age, Kaji was undercover and seeking a much-needed reprieve. This was his plan in motion, or so he had to claim for better or worse. Kagami was collateral— an unfortunate sort, but he had enough reason to hold out hope that she could escape this living storm, Rankiryū, wherever she had fled. Finding an exit was complicated, what with the wall leading back to the entrance already collapsed… but the Sileo Tempestas was a locale with endless holes to and from; there had to have been another exit from the tomb secreted away somewhere. And despite being pressed for time amidst the conflict of the dragon and the living storm, Eelspine was still out there among the fray, likely untarnished despite having felt the sting of dragon’s breath. “This is no time to hold a grudge, soul thief” asserted Kaji in a thought focused on his lost saber. This wasn’t the first time he had managed to earn the scorn of his own sword, but for once, the weapon was in an exploitative position, with Kaji absolutely requiring Eelspine to make it out of alive.

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[Okada Kaji]

Among the rubble of bones and stones gathered for some thousands of years, the sentient blade with its many names was feeling an experience it had not known for so long. The saber Eelspine, in all its splendor, found itself laying in the open, blade-barred like some cheap katana lost on the battlefield. It was in indignity for a fine blade, one comparable to a being flung into a river and left to rust; surely, some fresh hell. It was only a testament to Eelspine’s quality that it wasn’t vanquished in the bath of dragon fire, left warped by the extreme heat, or shattered by the long fall. Perhaps those outcomes were preferable to the destiny of collecting dust in the dark.

It was all the fault of that Kaji Okada, cursed the blade. In the hands of someone who still knew bloodlust, Eelspine would have never seen such an outcome, only glory. The light of the blade’s gem glowed a low, warm light as it imagined carving through mountains of man-flesh as it had in the heyday of its partnership with Kaji. In the last eight years, Eelspine hardly saw the light of combat, rather it was cursed by a near-decade of accursed peace. Eelspine ached to be wielded, to steal souls from the defeated, and to return to the glory of spilling a river of blood. If only the living weapon understood the ideas of faith, or it would have prayed for another chaotic age. It would have found some figure to focus upon, and some wish for hell upon Kaji Okada, so he might give it what it desired… But alas, following the path of that Kaji’s peace, Eelspine found itself laying in dust, dreaming of finding new worthy hands.

A roar from the Eater of Men gave the sword pause though and even caused it to tremble across the stones. The barion cut emerald, with its faceted face serving like an eye, Eelspine stared up at the image of the azure-scaled dragon, the Eater of Men. Never had the blade known such a menacing creature, whose hide dared to deny it an easy incision. Eelspine dreamed of someone mightier than Kaji, a wielder not worn down by age, who might be able to penetrate deep into the Eater’s thick hide. Indeed, Eelspine required a new master, or so the blade decided boldly… But it cursed. Without that menace Kaji to carry it to salvation, Eelspine was more likely to wind up a toothpick for the dragon. Its mind panicked as much as some inanimate thing could— unforetold years might pass before another worthy creature might stumble upon it in Raiden’s lair. As an enchanted blade, Eelspine was promised immortality, and yet it discovered fear then, recognizing that it would soon find death through decay, like breathing filth.

Eventually, its magic would fade without more souls to feed it. The souls within would eventually find their escape, and Eelspine would fade into the madness like a hermit wandering a mountain, naked and freezing in the final throes of dementia.

Out of fear of the alternatives, Eelspine chose to cling to its master for just a little while longer. There, it made a vow to see the end of Kaji Okada once it escaped Raiden’s pit. No matter how long it took, The Soul Thief would have its greatest treasure; the soul of Kaji Okada.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ​

With the ease of the dead, Eelspine remained inactive beneath the Eater. The blade’s gem feigned absolute dullness as it watched the destined meeting of two mythical titans. Down from the crevasses in the cavern wall crept the living storm, Rankiryū, like a dreadful fog coming in from the riverbanks.

The dragon was locked onto its date with destiny, unwavering as it met the coming storm. Its chest glowed, beginning just above its diaphragm and rising to its throat like a stereo panel when the volume is turned up to eleven. It served as a fine warning to one’s imminent demise and yet Rankiryū did not pause, in fact, it surged onward, welcoming the blast. The sound of each blast likely reached the halls of the Sileo Tempestas despite the depths of shale and bedrock between it and the halls of Raiden. Taking shape as a beam of white fire, the Eater of Men launched its flames into the center of Rankiryū. The might of the energy caused the black clouds to ripple and swirl. The air was ablaze, a marvel of friction and excited atoms coalescing. Lightning crackled aimlessly, fraying out in the cavern’s ceiling like the spores of a dandelion let loose by deep exhalation.

Rankiryū was capable of schemes, or so it seemed as the storm used that splitting attack to spread into a pincer upon the dragon as two black plumes. Meeting the assault, the Eater shook its great wings free of caked-on debris. The flashes of stray lightning shed light through the leathery folds of those wings, revealing the incredible effort in place of veins as thick as human wrists pumped streams of red. Even the Eater had doubts that it might ever fly again; like the man and magical blade, the dragon too was running from the necrosis of an inevitable end.

However, at least one wing would not fail that day, as it beat like a massive drum. A zephyr pushed Rankiryū to one side with a mighty shove, halting half of its thought impossible fall. Oh but that other half— the dragon let out a terrible roar as the black miasma bit into its left flank. This was no ordinary cloud matter: it was madness dressed in black, acidic, and readily corroding through the armor-thick scales of the Eater with a mere touch. When the dragon reeled back, shades of gray flesh were revealed; fatty tissue and the purple of draconic muscle matter simmering with smoke. Of course, striking at the storm seemed as futile as spitting into it. While the dragon’s wings managed to push the mad cloud, attempts to rend with the Eater’s mighty claws on led to fresh lesions and streaks of blood running rampant.

As expected, the Eater defaulted to another blast of fiery breath, yet the second one failed to drive an expected gape through the storm as it did the first time. Somehow, the vortex was adjusting itself, and the beam merely passed through it.

In a rare show of hesitation, the Eater of Men gave up ground with two earth-trembling paces. Like a damned man in the face of salvation, Eelspine awoke with excitement and called out for Kaji to hurry forth with a psionic command!

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ​

Through the dimly lit expanse, there was a triangular opening that appeared among the flashes of lightning. It resembled the mouth of a cave but was so small that the battling titans wouldn’t notice it amidst their tumble. A wider view revealed the cave to be the result of fallen granite, columns and flooring put to waste. Within, one emerald eye was squeezed shut in a perpetual wince. Haggard but alive no less, Kaji awaited the gavel of fate, be that one more chance or damnation in Raiden’s pit. Whenever another flash of titan fire permitted him, Kaji set his sights on the cavern walls, which were fractured and gradually crumbling.

In that instance when the great Eater of Men stumbled, Kaji did as well, as the aforementioned psionic scream by Eelspine assaulted his cerebellum. The words came in an echo to his mind: “the moment has come… Take me with haste!” The sword cast its location, shining like a beacon, daring to glow brightly with verdant chakra illuminating the crumbled floor.

So Kaji sprang into motion. The only path to the blade was the direct one; daring to sneak in the presence of the eater would have been like dangling a fishing lure in front of a shark swimming full speed in your direction. In a dead sprint, Kaji could practically feel the dragon’s eye wandering over him despite its own deadly, losing encounter.

Not one to slouch when it came to being petty, the Eater made time for an attack. The dragon swung its broad tail over Kaji the way you might swat with an open palm at a housefly, yet human viscera didn’t slather as planned. The image of Kaji erupted into a plume of smoke, and from it, a thick block of granite was shattered by the dragon’s might.

The distraction was enough, and the real Kaji Okada slid in front of Eelspine, skidding to a stop. The Eater inhaled and its chest lit up with that telltale glow. But, perhaps only to demand subjugation, the storm wreathed around the dragon’s neck in an attempt to pin it back and deny the burst, but the dragon’s iconic attack was unleashed without pause. The beam fired through the center of the black cloud and down at Kaji in a perfectly aligned burst, as if X marked the spot.

There was no dodging that blast with its radius so immense. Albeit foolishly, Kaji resorted to a counterattack over being vaporized. Only a power cut could draw out enough power to understand the assignment. His core stiffened, bracing for the arching curve as Kaji raised Eelspine from a low position, hardly collected from the floor. It was as if time slowed to a crawl. The light of the dragon’s fire was like experiencing the sun colliding with the earth from a seat on the moon. The weight behind Eelspine as Kaji brought the blade upward felt like dragging the world up between his very feet to meet that colliding star: impossibility. The course of his sword sailed with perfection, a strike forty years in the making: a single, life-defining moment.

The resistance came like meeting a truck head-on with impossible stopping power. Kaji was pinned in place with his sword clashed and a force. His verdant chakra extended from him in a crescent wave of energy that grew larger by the second. The crescent split a wide-gapped fork, ultimately sparing him from the blast.

As the two energies faded, swirls of rapidly cooling air left flecks of matter, dust lit ablaze and vanishing in faint, motes of arcane fire in every perceivable color, and a few more that weren’t.

New pain shot up Kaji’s side from his hip flexor, likely the renewal of some old tear amidst that great swing, but the adrenaline of battle was keeping it at bay. He turned to flee now that Eelspine was in tow, and the crash of Rankiryū assailing the Eater of Men yet again promised Kaji that he might just escape the dragon’s focus.

“You, the heretic— you unleash ruin upon Storm Lord’s kingdom!” The Eater of Men turned over in a wild roll and crashed onto the rubble. It scraped the ground, digging trenches as it charged after Kaji. The dragon’s might was failing as that spinning dive was more like a fall, and the Eater of Men took in a mouthful of stone as it collided with nothing but rubble. The gravel in his throat couldn’t diminish the dragon’s call as it roared, “You fool... The Blossoming Raijin will devour all!”

Kaji had never truly felt his mortality the way he did that day. He had never known such utter weakness as he did the moment he witnessed a living dragon scraping through the soil like a worm, scrambling, heart gripped by terror. Kaji’s own heart was racing, threatening to pound its way through his chest as he pushed to gain distance from the storm. The eater vanished within the black morass, and the roars were silenced behind the thundering wall and flashes of lightning.

“The wyrm speaks true, little human… the time has come for the second trembling” rubbled the storm with a voice through the thunder. With the dragon seemingly eaten, the storm encroached upon Kaji like a great black wall, cornering him at the back of the cavern. The clouds formed its face and glowered down at Kaji, who held up his meek little weapon. “You have ushered in my return, and for that, you deserve a commendation... The Court of the Sun and Sky shall begin anew.”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ​

“Is this thing... pontificating?” With his back against the wall, Kaji stared into the eyes of the storm and recognized the sounds of a villain monologue, whether he understood what was being said or not.

Facing the impossible and the unbeatable, Kaji lowered Eelspine and aimed the blade into its scabbard. The emeraldine light of his wicked blade dimmed until nothing but the violet hues of Rankiryū’s light pulsed over him. His arms stretched out and forward, palms open and empty-handed as he lowered himself to his knees in a show of supplication. His tattered cloak draped over most of his silhouette as he bowed before the great primordial. The sound of a low rumble came like a round of thunderous applause yet it was merely an approving chortle.

His mind wandered then as it was wan to do as those silver blades of hair came in. He imagined the distant image of that rambunctious boy who became the walking embodiment of his wants and dreams for the shinobi world. He reminisced of Tatsuo Ranna, his pupil, the prodigal sprout. Kaji formed a grin and even laughed aloud as he thought of the years he spent preaching his ways of strategy and the shinobi’s essential stealth. He doubted Tatsuo would have ever believed that his sensei, Kaji Okada, had been cornered. Sometimes, it takes being cornered to create an opportunity, because it is in the corner where the enemy draws in close, thinking they’ve caught you.

In a flashback, Kaji remembered his own lecture to young Tatsuo one day while riding horseback along the Spine of the World. "Life is an unending process of learning— a process of working as hard as possible until you fail— and then learning from that failure so it makes you stronger."

Cornered but not captured, Kaji understood that he’d have only one chance to escape the trap of the encroaching god-storm. He was scheming and witnessed that the Eater of Men only managed to successfully part Rankiryū with his first use of his breath of flames. But how did Kaji, a mere swordsman, expect to part the primordial? Surely, a crescent flash of Eelspine’s energy might crease the clouds momentarily, but the blade would prove futile against Rankiryū. Rather, Kaji bowed deeper, dipping his head towards the floor, sweeping it with his haggard gray bangs. Meanwhile, his left hand moved slowly, carefully, beneath his cloak. The storm was still thundering in place with that spectral mouth shape motioning; it appeared as if the primordial had a lot to say, but was too wrapped up in ego to notice that its prey was plotting.

wc2494

 

[Okada Kaji]

The shinobi who thrives into old age surely have some tricks up their sleeve. Within our world of magic and mystery, there is a concept known as the forbidden technique. These are coveted arts to the shinobi villages, often taboo, and rightfully shunned by traditionalists. Most shinobi who reach the veteran ranks have such abilities in their retinue, and of course Kaji was of no exception. As you might understand it by now, the magic used to bind souls within Eelspine is considered vile by many who’ve come to learn what it is capable of. As a fledgling mempo, Kaji had to fight through peers and enemies alike to keep his hands on the sword. By the time he came to possess his other treasures though, it was less a matter of coveting the power, and more about comprehending the risks that came with incredible might. There is always a cost that comes with using forbidden techniques, and they are never easily paid.

In a thick leather holster on the back of his belt, Kaji kept this quaint-looking item, old and rusty. He regarded it as a tool only for use as an emergency contingency, which was his way of saying he absolutely hated using the Horn of Batak. To the unknowing witness, the horn appeared as some ornately carved buffalo horn, likely made from a specimen in the lowlands of Kaminari no Kuni. The was a reverent trembling to his hand as Kaji unclasped the horn. Its pointed edge met the dim flickers of light first, revealing engraved patterns of zig-zagging and swirling patterns. But as he brought it forward and carefully into both hands, it’s intricacies showed four humanoid creatures carved into the main body of the horn, looking as if they were mounted on the back of a great beast. Only three riders were intact though, with the head of the fourth missing. The underside of the handle revealed that of a horse’s face; its mane swirled back into the riders’ grasps like reigns.

Dark, wet streaks began to run from fresh slices in Kaji’s hands as he brought the object to bear. This was no sentient tool, and yet it’s curse responded quite intuitively. Those bloodied hands were a sign of the exchange as the horn’s magic entered Kaji’s body through the skin. His skin rapidly turned blue in the passing seconds, not like a dead man on the sea, but blue like the sea itself. Scientifically speaking, if I may, the blueness wasn’t a feature so much as a side effect as the horn’s magic rapidly fills the user’s veins with hemocyanin, copper carrying blue cells. For a gruelling ten seconds, the Horn of Batak violently alter’s the user’s genetic code, even rendering the nonessential bodily functions useless as the wielder’s body is reconfigured as, speaking frankly, a weapon.

Being particularly limited in his natural affinities for molding elemental ninjutsu, the Horn of Batak offered a temporary solution to that form of weakness. For a count of ten, Kaji Okada gained the blood of the tempest, the misdirected blessing of Fuujin, and the force of a hurricane wind.

Ten. Blue skinned and wreathed with the normal emeraldine aura of eelspine, the inclusion of that azure form cause that energy to shift into a turquoise tint. The whites of his eyes turned blood red, focusing the last of his hemoglobin there to maintain his vision. His chest expanded, no longer breathing, rather, expanded to his maxim with a constant swirl of air. Nine. With the horn still in hand, he began weaving modified tiger, snake, and ram hand seals, sending blue blood spraying with every motion.

Eight. His stance widened to anchor his feet. The storm sensed the coming attack but did not know what, only to charge and prevent it. The chamber echoed with Kaji’s command as he commenced a great unfurling wind, “Fuuton: Kinji rareta fun'iki!” (Wind Release: Ambiance of the Forbidden!) The storm was pummeled and split from its initial descent over Kaji, and it could be heard defiantly cackling.

Seven. Working once was all he’d need, or at a minimum the only chance he’d have and a gamble worth taking. The divided storm was still roiling about, and yet Kaji formed the slightest seam to slip through. With the might of the tempest, he just might make a leap for freedom. And so, with two steps in a running start to gain his bearing, he took a third and bounded skyward with a second command, shifting the continuance of that forbidden ambiance. “Kochi” (eastern wind) called the mighty gale to press at his back like a kite sailing skyward. Six. The storm rumbled with its chortle and reveled in the moment. “It is a petty creature serving nothing but chaos… It abets my arrival, only to seek the glory of my undoing.”

Five. “If it will not serve as the herald to my new court, then it shall see the same fate of every obstacle.” With a mere thought, the storm shifted its atom into something like a net of voltage, sending streaks of lightning left and right around Kaji. The mere human was like a hummingbird how he weaved, and yet he could not evade the power of the primordial so easily. Four. If not for the vortex of wind he would have been smitten instantaneously, yet the force of a lightning bolt sent Kaji careening downward like a bird shot through by an arrow.

Three. The plummeting shinobi felt a crack in his side as he collided into a tall stone column and took the stone off as he bounced. His back was smoldering and he had a date with the ground and yet, he slowed to a stop, hovering a foot above the floor. He was quaking from the asphyxiation presented by the accursed ninja tool, and of course, the pain of his extensive wounds. and resiliently shot back skyward once more. “Minamikase” (Southern Wind) conjured Kaji, evoking the second shift in his torrential flight. Indeed, once more— vision doubling and daring to blur from the hemorrhaging, Kaji could see the entry point where it all began… his one way out. The bulk of the storm had filled the bottom corners of the cavern where Rankiryu was fervently decimating the remains of the Eater. Stray bolts of lightning were lashing out for him, and be it luck or skill, he was weaving around them all, so dead set on slipping through the black hole.

Two. But that storm had more in store for its prey than buffeting winds and lightning. All along, it had been spreading throughout crevices in the granite, and suddenly, it tore open that very passageway, peeling the cavern wall apart from the way a hand might scoop up a heap of sand. The steel foundation was left behind as twisted beams while heaps of granite spun in a gray twister for Kaji. Looking that denial in the eye, Kaji let the Horn of Batak slip from his hands, and it fell away to never been seen again. With his control over the gale already diminishing, he had to finish this with that fated tool, the cutter of paths and destiny: the masterwork saber of Kagetsuchi he dubbed as Eelspine!

One. Out slid the blade into an overhead, two-handed pose, welcoming Rankiryu’s final challenge. Flying into the granite vortex, Kaji sailed still glowing with the remnants of his azure glow. “Futon…” Whispered Kaji as the oxygen began to normalize in his lungs and that blue tint faded from his skin. “Owari no Serafu” (Wind Release: Seraph of the End). In a combination of strikes, he merged the wind with his blade and tore through the granite with splendiferous speed and light. The wind was alive about him, howling as the storm’s lament that it could not vanquish the mere mortal. From the tail end of the vortex, he emerged, still spiraling and then falling towards that dilapidated entrance.

With nothing but fallacious hope, Kaji grasped onto a rod of rebar sticking out of the collapsed entrance with one hand and gripped Eelspine with the other. Despite that show of might, it had spent him to his end and there he hung, gripping the bent metal for dear life as the storm roiled below. Then came a single quake— Kaji’s grip slid an inch down the rod from which he hung, and his eyes turned to glance downward. There were flashes of light filling the belly of the storm. But then came another quake, not from down there, or even from the surface far above, but dead ahead! The collapsed portal was denotated with the force of fire; an explosion that sent Kaji falling free with all the stone and steel.

“Curse you, Guardian Okada!” The sound of a familiar voice roared into the chamber as yet another reptilian body barreled into the great chamber with it’s leathery wings flexing. Another dragon?!?
Nah, however, the Axe-beaked raptor known as Caerroth had enough fire and fury to match wits with any dragon! The Leather-Wings were by far no dragons though, rather they were a species much closer to the ancient dinosaurs; a flying carnivorous species with hardened ax-like snouts for brutalizing their prey, and massive leathery wings for sailing long distances on high winds. It appeared that Miro wasn’t the only one to bring a friend, though, unlike Keunchin, Caerroth’s bond with Kaji was much more of the hate variety than love. Alas, sworn to serve his oath to the Lithia Clan of the Hidden Oasis, Caerroth found himself tucking his vibrant wings and barreling down to reach for Kaji.

At the very last second, Caerroth snagged Kaji by his cloak and soared over the roasting black clouds.
“Caer—roth…” Struggled Kaji, yet it didn’t take words for the Leatherwing to understand the urgency. “This is the last time I save your ass” sniped Caerroth amidst his efforts to catch a high wind that would help him carry himself and his passenger back to the entrance.
“No…” Lamented Kaji, failing to form a sentence through the onset of fatigue.
“Oh no, just keep quiet Guardian… Let Caerroth take care of it all. Focus on keeping hold of your little claw” sniping again, Caerroth took careful note of how Kaji couldn’t talk, yet he still held fast to that accursed weapon of his. Truly, Caerroth believed that the saber was the one running the show.

Closing in on the entrance Caerroth had reopened, the Leatherwing wasn’t bothering to look back on the dangers it had no interest in facing. However, Kaji was dangling and spinning and was faced back to see a massive figure trailing behind them through Rankiriyu’s smog. Impossibly, a gargantuan head rippled with exposed flesh and bone arose behind the human and reptilian pair. Despite all that time, the Eater of Men had returned and was making a last effort to have its final meal.
“Caerroth” Kaji yelped, and suddenly he and the leatherwing were both yelling. The dragon’s jaws were wide and closed indeterminately, and with that exit point still over a dozen feet away, Caerroth found himself making a choice Kaji would have never expected to see from him.
“Caerroth really can’t fucking…” the great lizard brought its feet upwards and kicked, sending Kaji hurtling forth the dozens of feet needed and then some, but he could not follow. “Stand him—” the sound of a crunch and crash cut of the leatherwing in his moment of valiance as the Eater of Men clamped down on him. The dragon’s snout collided with the cave face, and as physics tore him away, the tunnel’s face began to collapse as well. Kaji came to a skidding, rolling stop across a smooth marble floor and the wealth of loose coinage. He looked back at the rubble where his friend had been taken, eaten by the dragon. “...Caerroth.”

Laying there as the rest of the temple began to crumble around him, Kaji remained fixed on that portal and the failures that hid behind it. Not only Caerroth but his successor, Miro Kagami were as good as dead for all he knew. Suddenly, all of the talks about secrets, power, and legacy felt like empty platitudes as his allies perished for his schemes. Meanwhile, the Hidden Cloud was seeing a nuisance conflict in the roach-like Tenouzan, good men dying at the front of the moronic leaders they left behind. Silently, his aspirations for the journey with Rei would have to simply transpire without him, as Kaji Okada deserved to die in the bed he made. Resolved to this end, he closed his eyes and waited for the stones to fall.

There was a warm glow, like that of a welcoming hearth, and it snapped Kaji out of that defeated resolution. A spectral monarch butterfly sat on his nose and winked out of existence as he focused on it with those exhausted emeraldine eyes.
“Never thought I’d see you looking so rough, Rōjin” came the familiar sound of a young woman stalking onto Kaji’s position.
With a cough, Kaji mustered a free enough airway to retort, “Just keep living... one day you’ll probably end up” and he paused. “Nevermind.”
“Right then” batted back the other, who stepped over Kaji to get a good look at his sorry state. “I saw what happened with Caerroth… I’m sorry for your loss Rōjin, but, we should probably get out of here unless you want to lose your life and... your last friend in Kumogakure~.” Her voice ended the statement with a cheery note, honey-sweet despite the sour implication.

The figure came with the glow of a hooded lantern bearing amber-paned glass, shining its warm light down the dark corridor. The amber monarchs fluttered in the air, emanating their dim light and the outline of a woman with an athletic, bountiful physique. Donned in fresh cloud anbu attire that never saw battle, the Monarch Girl had come in Kaji’s time of need, always emerging when times seemed impossible. Her straw Kasa was gone in favor of an ANBU mask marked with cheek and temple art denoting an ANBU Captain, though she surely commanded no cloud shinobi.
“Come on, Rōjin, I can’t stand seeing you like this.” The Monarch Girl bent down beside Kaji, revealing her soft, semi tanned-complexioned knees and thighs gripped by black tights. She neglected to wear winter garments, seemingly unaffected by the cold. She wore an earthy, complex floral scent— led by notes of ylang-ylang, peach, and bergamot with so much more mingled together. Her eyes glowed a dull amber like the lantern and cut over to glance at Eelspine, which was still gripped tightly in Kaji’s hand.
“Oh my” she sighed, pausing her attempt to pull him by an arm over her shoulder. “Lord Kagetsuchi’s saber is trying to persuade me, Rōjin. To take this opportunity to kill you with it… Its will is very strong.” Kaji met her gaze anxiously and weakly tried to paw at her to keep away as she lunged across him to take up Eelspine.
“Monarch, not like—” Kaji was easily rolled under the fellow ANBU as she grabbed Eelspine and jerked it out of his grasp. One of her long pigtails swept across Kaji’s face as the Monarch Girl scrambled across him with the saber, posturing herself atop him as if she’d stab it into his heart and still escape the temple’s collapse. But rather than sinking the blade into his chest, Monarch drove it into the scabbard on his hip.
“Have some faith Rōjin… The lantern protects me from most genjutsu, especially such a simple form of suggestion.”
Again, Monarch pulled on Kaji, and together the duo climbed to their feet and hurried towards the exit. “Hope you don’t mind that I plundered a few things,” Monarch said with a snide laugh. “Nothing too serious, just enough trinkets to fill my bag, and have me set for life.” Setting the lantern on a hook tied to her belt, Monarch revealed her hand: bright orange-glossed nails with gold and platinum rings stacked on each finger, each embedded with fine jewels of garnet, diamonds, polished jade, and black pearl. She showed him a golden comb shaped like a dragon set with red garnets as eyes.
“Could this wait?” Kaji interrupted her through gritted teeth, panting and hustling to avoid stones and boulders falling all around them. “How about a moment of silence… for Caerroth?”
“Whatever Rōjin” the Monarch Girl countered, “don’t feel so bad, that lizard hated you… Besides, I want to remember this moment— the last time I see my Rōjin before he leaves home to never be seen again.”

Running ahead of Kaji, the Monarch Girl hopped down the stairs at the base of Raiden’s altar. Kaji hobbled behind her and dropped to desperately sit once they were free from the chamber. The golden rings and shining glyphs of the portal proceeded to fade as the last plumes of catastrophe billowed out of the shutting entrance.
“Why wouldn’t I come back?” huffed and puffed Kaji. He watched the Monarch Girl as she lifted her treasured lantern over her plump looting satchel. She was giddy, doing a little dance as she looked through the pilfered inventory. With her back to him, Kaji took note of the red dragon tattoo scrawled across her exposed shoulders beneath the sleek ANBU armor. She had so much in common with him despite the distance they kept and the secrets which forever tied them together.
“From the moment I met you I recognized your truth Rōjin,” she said, turning to face Kaji with her composure deteriorating amidst a revelation, even putting away the wealth of rings she stole. “You came all the way to this Hidden Cloud to find a perfect life and still you turn your back on it. Your real true love isn’t the blue woman, or even your daughter, or this city… you love the road, Kaji. “Building your legend for a book no one will ever read except for fanatics trying to dream about a dying shinobi era. Once you finally meet your maker on the road, or in some pit, or a monster’s stomach, Umeko isn’t going to cry for you… Yuii sure as hell won’t, and I…”
She removed the ANBU mask and pressed it between her hands in an attempt to break it but the new age polymers were far too resilient. Stepping forward, she stood opposite Kaji, and their faces were far too similar, almost some gender-bent machination setting them apart. “I’m not your pet… I didn’t follow you home just to obey your commands for the occasional treat! “I am— your daughter too… Kaji.” She stared into his emerald pools until her resolve crumbled and she awkwardly looked aside. “Aren’t I?”
There was a defeated, puzzled look on Kaji’s face as he kept silent at first. No, the Monarch Girl was not his daughter as Kaji understood her, she was some different… albeit comparable as his clone.
“Then come with me” suggested Kaji, feigning a smile and lifting his hand weakly to grasp out to her. “I’m sure Rei would welcome one more to our party… We could achieve some real change—”
“No.” the Monarch countered adamantly. “I left home so I wouldn’t become some copy of my Mother, and I won’t become another you either. So, like the rest of your family, I’ll have to wait for you to pull your head out of the clouds. And just like them, I’ll move on without you if you don’t come back. So fuck you, you piece of shit! Maybe if you don’t come back that last shadow looming over me can fade and I won’t have to worry about living in it. This is it… just like Caerroth, this is my last time saving you, Kaji Okada.”

The sound of her boots gnashing into the cold ground grew distant as Monarch stormed off, possibly to never see her donor father again.
Battered and alone, Kaji found himself seated in the eerie darkness at the center of quieted chaos. The words of the Monarch Girl echoed in his mind like a curse as he reflected on everything that transpired around him… those things that he caused. Perhaps she was right, and the wonderful life Kaji founded in Kumogakure would be so much better off without him after all.

Topic Left.
wc3397

Letter from the Author? The audacity!

Dear reader,
If anyone has been following along to this point I just want to see thank you for reading, and giving me this opportunity to share a story with you.
Also, huge thank you to Miro for having this thread with me, and being okay with me continuing the adventure as a solo endeavor to it's maxim.
I will likely continue the story of the Monarch Girl as an NPC in cloud, as I surely need to explain some of what's going on there. She isn't exactly new to the story, but I never had an opportunity to full explain her origin story during Wolf Like Me, her introductory thread, which I still need to finish. So, more stuff with her coming soon if anyone is interested in RPing in cloud. I promised to not dip out entirely so let's work. I guess the NPC app is coming soon, so look out for that.