Open The End of the Saionji Clan...

[Sayuri Saionji]

The Saionji family mansion loomed like a shadow over the sprawling gardens, its elegant architecture a testament to the wealth and prestige that had been amassed over generations. On that fateful evening, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow through the grand windows as the family gathered for a rare moment of togetherness. Sayuri Saionji, the youngest daughter, felt a sense of warmth enveloping her as laughter echoed in the air, the soft clinks of fine china punctuating the lively conversations. But beneath the surface of this idyllic setting lay a tension that had slowly been brewing; whispers of danger had touched the perimeter of their serene lives.

As the night deepened, a low rumble of thunder announced the arrival of a storm, but it was not the weather that would soon threaten the Saionji clan. The electric tension in the air shifted abruptly when the first loud crash pierced the stillness of the mansion, startling everyone from their conversations. The ornate doors, usually symbols of grandeur and security, splintered under the intruders' force. Sayuri's heart raced as a gang of masked thieves stormed in, their dark figures moving swiftly through the foyer, brandishing weapons that glinted ominously in the dim light.

Panic spread like wildfire through the mansion. Her father, a stoic man with unwavering resolve, instinctively stepped forward to protect his family. "Everyone, to the basement!" He said. But the sound of chaos erupted as clashes of desperation and violence unfolded. Sayuri found herself rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear as her mother and siblings were swept into the turmoil. The air was thick with the cries of her loved ones, each shout a mixture of defiance and despair. In the chaos, faces she had known all her life were twisted in anguish, their lives extinguished one by one, each moment stretching painfully into eternity as she watched her world crumble.

Within what felt like moments, the once-bustling hallways grew eerily silent, the only sound in the air her own ragged breath. It was disbelief that enveloped Sayuri like a shroud, a numbing sensation that halted her mind. She remained hidden amidst the shadows, a single flicker of life in a night that had taken everything from her. As the darkness settled, the mansion that had once been a sanctuary pulsed with the weight of loss, the walls holding secrets and memories that would forever remain unspoken. In the aftermath, as the storm raged outside, Sayuri stood alone among the remnants of her shattered family, the unresolved cries of a peaceful life turned into haunting echoes within her, leaving her the sole witness to a horror no one should ever have to bear...

"No, mama... papa... Tatsuo... Inase...!" She cried out after the bandits left with the money and valuables, "What should I do now...? My family's gone... I'm the last one..." she muttered to herself, falling into an uneasy sleep in the messed-up living room, behind an upturned couch, and shivered to sleep...​

 

[Tamashi Seto]

After a long mission he had volunteered for, he was returning, and so, he found himself in the forests of the rolling hills, it's dense canopies groaning under the weight of the encroaching storm, the clouds up above forming before his eyes. Trying to ignore it, at least for the time being, he trekked through the underbrush of the forest, making several steps over several hills that could barely be called hills. In his walking, his armored boots sank into the ground, not enough to get stuck, but enough to slow him down slightly. He could smell the pseudo damp soil with every step. Out of nowhere, a cold droplet suddenly struck the back of his hand, then another against his haori, the area blooming dark red across the fabric. He sighed heavily at the sight. "Great....just what I wanted...." Muttering under his breath, his crimson eyes watched as the forest seemingly exhaled in response, leaves trembling and vibrating. For a few moments afterwards, his eyes activated on a subconscious level, automatically tracking the erratic paths of the many droplets that began to come down, before he stopped himself from further. With the exception of the encroaching storm, nothing was his threat here. Still, he was hours away from the stronghold, and he was about to be caught in a storm. Not the worst he's been in, but it was something he wanted to complain about. Even as he thought however, his fingers brushed the sheathed Masamune on his back out of habit, always expecting danger even when there wasn't any. Beyond the veil of the forest, he could hear the rumbling of a distant storm, heralding it's arrival.

Trying his best once more to ignore the obvious, he trekked for several more moments before he finally crested the top of a hill that stood just behind the tree line. Upon beaming downwards, his crimson eyes narrowed as his breath misted in the cool night air. What should have been a stately, a elegant silhouette amongst the night, now stood violated, broken, destroyed. It's windows shattered, the grand doors reduced to little more then wreckage. If that wasn't bad enough, the ever so shifting wind brought up a scent he knew all too well, smoke, blood, and others he didn't want to think about. Forgetting about the impeding storm, his hand twitched towards his massive Odachi on his back as he descended the slope with lethal grace, each foot placed with precision to avoid any noteworthy sound. His sharingan pulsed to life, his tomoe spinning slowly as he dissected the scene before him, a discarded tanto glinting near the doorway, traces of blood on the ground, the shattered teeth of the windows singing a tale he knew all too well. Every detail etched into his mind as he kept encroaching. Reaching the doorway, his eyes peering into the grand entryway, he could see the plush carpet now stiffed with dried blood or worse, gore. The air was thick. No movement, no breathing, just the creak of strained wood, damaged furniture, and the gruesome tale of a story that had played out. In that moment, his blood boiled, his warrior spirit screaming at him to find the people who did this...and end them. His warrior blood almost got the best of him when he heard something, or rather someone, the faintest of al sobs, it's voice echoing from somewhere within the corpse that was this mansion.

Scanning the entryway then the doorway that lead to another room, perhaps the great dining hall, he could see the fallen portrait of the Saionji patriarch, a man he had met once, before his eyes stared eerie so at the ceiling, his blade still remaining sheathed. Every much coiled with readiness, ready to go off on the offensive as he looked for the source of the sobs, like a predator drawn to a wounded or dying prey. Eventually, he broke his silence, coming to the conclusion that It must be a survivor, or If it's a bandit, well, lets just say he be wishing for death after he's done with him. Immediately "WHO EVER YOU ARE, IDENTIFY YOURSELF IMMEDIATELY , OR YOU BE TREATED AS A HOSTILE. THIS IS KUMOGAKURE TERRITORY. REPEAT. IDENTIFY YOURSELF IMMEDIATELY OR I WILL RESPOND WITH LETHAL FORCE. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING." in his mind In raising his voice, it roared throughout the ruins. It wasn't his intention exactly to come off as blunt or intimidating but these were trying times. He had no idea what had happened here, and he couldn't afford to take any chances, especially not now, since he was so far out from his clan's territory and especially the village itself. He hoped it was a survivor and not a bandit who was stupid enough to get themselves trapped here.​

 

[Sayuri Saionji]

Startled from a restless sleep, Sayuri jerked awake, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest as adrenaline surged through her veins like wildfire. "Wah!" she gasped, eyes wide and frantic, scanning the dimly lit room where shadows danced ominously on the walls. Reality came crashing down on her in an instant. "I'm Sayuri Saionji! Not a bandit!" Her voice trembled, imbued with a mix of terror and indignation, reverberating off the walls like a desperate plea for recognition.

Barely grasping her surroundings, memories engulfed her like a raging tide—the chaos of that fateful night replaying in her mind, each detail sharp and searing. The ghostly echoes of the bandits’ laughter clawed at her thoughts, their dark silhouettes looming large, a haunting reminder of her shattered world. "Those bandits destroyed my house and killed my whole family!" she cried out, anguish seeping into her voice, raw and palpable. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, white-knuckled in a futile attempt to exert control over her spiraling emotions.

Before her stood an unknown man, his presence casting a long shadow that slithered across the floor, sending a chill racing down her spine. In that moment, she felt a volatile mixture of vulnerability and fierce determination, a whirlwind of emotions crashing within her as the weight of her tragic past clashed violently with the urgency of her present plight. "You... you won't hurt me, will you...?" she ventured, her voice barely a whisper, laced with trembling fear. Shaking uncontrollably, she instinctively clutched the coat that had become her makeshift blanket, crawling behind the couch as if seeking refuge from the very darkness that had stolen her life.​

 

[Tamashi Seto]

The moment he heard the faint tremor in the girl's voice, it echoed through the manor, piercing the silence that had taken this place. His Sharingan snapped awake once more, his crimson pupils turning towards the source of the voice with predatory precision, his eyes dissecting the tremoring in her breathing, every shadow that lurked, until they found their mark. Watching the survivor tremble, his hand loosened it's grip on the handle of his blade, the tension in his shoulder easing, causing him to exhale a faint sigh. "So a Saionji did survive..." The words left him in a muttered tone, caring no weight behind them. Still, he couldn't prevent himself from his eyelids from drifting shut just for a moment, long enough to banish the images of charred and mutilated bodies from times before. When his eyes reopened, his gaze softened, the predatory edge he had, weathered away. "No....I'm here to help..." His voice low, a careful attempt to prevent himself from startling her further. The scent of blood, charred flesh and fire still clung to the air, but beneath it all, he sensed something he knew all too well, the stench of unmurdered bandits, their smell lingering like a stain on this once elegance estate. His right hand formed into a fist, his rage threatening to overtake him before he breathed through his nostrils, his fingers coming part. His jaw tightened briefly before he refocused himself on the sole survivor.

"I'm sorry I didn't arrive earlier.....or else I would have dealt with them myself....." His voice was even softer now, stripped of his usually serious, aloof edge, a tone he reserved for grieving widows and orphaned children, and she was certainly one of them, her trembling body reminding him of himself when he was a child, before he took a life. Regardless of how he spoke, his words were laced with a promise, and one sharp as the massive blade on his back. Whether she knew it or not, those bandit's deaths were already written in his mind, images of their last breathes taking hold after they answered for their crime, his blade covered in crimson, but first.....Taking his attention off from her for a moment, his head turned slightly, scanning the room once more with methodical precision. No lingering chakra sources beyond their immediate vicinity besides for their own. They were safe for now. For moments afterwards, his gaze lingered on the devastation that surrounded them, ranging from the overturned furniture to the shards of what he could only presume was a tea set, before shifting his weight, the plates of his samurai armor whispering in the wind, his head tilted ever so slightly over his shoulder.

"Your family....tell me where they reside." His gaze then traced the bloodstains leading towards what had likely been the main hall. "They deserve rites worthy of their name..." He spoke again, hoping she understand on some level that she shouldn't have to shoulder this alone, that no clanless orphan should have to perform such rites by themselves, mustering whatever scraps of dignity she could scavenge. He should be bothered....but he had seen too many graves at this point. He was a lost cause, but maybe not her. There was hope for her, whether she knew it or not. Still, he was a man of honor, and a man like him followed protocol, to perform rituals older then his bloodline, and even If you ignored that, the dead were sacred. They deserved more then to be left amidst the wreckage of their own home.​

 

[Sayuri Saionji]

With a shuddering breath, Sayuri's voice wavered as she recounted the horrifying scene that haunted her memories. "They... they ran to the basement, their hearts pounding with fear, desperate for a haven... but the bandits got to them first, their cruel laughter echoing like a dark shadow over our home, turning what once was a sanctuary into a nightmarish trap." As she spoke, tears began to glisten in her eyes, each drop a painful reminder of the loss that weighed heavily upon her heart.

Her delicate hands instinctively clutched the soft fabric of her kimono, the intricate patterns and vibrant colors a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within her. She could almost hear her father's gentle voice, reminding her to maintain grace and composure, even in the direst of circumstances. Yet, the very thought of those moments shattered her resolve. “It feels so wrong to let go of the dignity he cherished,” she thought, her heart aching.

"I’ve searched for answers and some measure of peace,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might attract unwanted attention. “But all I find is darkness creeping in, every corner of my mind haunted by what happened below.” She paused for a moment, her gaze lowered as she fought to steady her breathing, attempting to push back the wave of sorrow crashing against her.

“Please... could you tell me your name, sir?” she implored, her eyes finally lifting to meet his, brimming with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. In that fleeting moment of connection, she sought solace in his presence, as if his very name might offer a glimmer of comfort amid the chaos and despair that had consumed her life since that fateful day. The air around them felt charged with an unspoken understanding, and she yearned for something—anything—that might help her navigate the storm of emotions swirling within her.​

 

[Tamashi Seto]

Peering away from the girl, his crimson eyes remained fixed on the moonlight that was peering through the entrance of the destroyed manor. For a long moment, he did not move, nor say anything, his pupils switching between the rays of the moon and the jagged shadows that now littered across the wreckage of what was once the front of the girl's home. Her sobbing, her tears felt like a invisible force pressing against him, each stifle, every sob striking against his carefully crafted, maintained, detached mask. His fingers twitched, caught between the instinct to offer what little comfort he could provide, and to reveal the knowledge that his hands were stained with blood, far too much to provide any real solace, for he had spilled more blood then any man should, and yet, here he was. It took another few seconds before he mustered the strength to speak, his voice being a combination of roughness and unshed grief that was impossible to hide. "I see...." Those two words were measured, each deliberately shaped to avoid whatever composure she had left to muster, probably the only thing she could cling to. "Then I shall tend to them after we finish speaking...." He gave her a subtle nod, making sure his warrior's duty extended beyond the living or even those outside his clan, for even the dead deserve rites, witnesses to their passing in their final moments in this world. His Sharingan moved again, quickly cataloguing every shattered artifact, heirloom and anything in his immediate vicinity that might require his attention.

He needed to ensure that whatever was left that was deemed important t othe Saionji Clan that is buried with them, as tradition dictated....unless she wanted a sacred burning instead. Not a unusual practice depending on the circumstances. His gaze returning to her moments later, her anguished sliced deeper then any blade could. The continued tremoring in her hands, the way her kimono seemed to mock the devastation with it's vibrant colors and intricate patterns. It reminded him greatly of memories of the past, ones he often couldn't bring himself to remember, days spent as a weak, untested, spoiled heir. He should feel sick but he was in her spot once upon a time so that was impossible.

Still, that didn't prevent him from judging her, even If It was minimal at best. He inhaled a deep sect of air. Seconds later, his exhale was barely audible as his eyes slammed shut at the thought of appearing before his younger self in female form, as well as the destruction that sat around him. "As something you just learned...." The pause that followed was heavy, but when it ended, he hoped she take it as "shared" understanding. "During times of strife....chaos.....death....things like dignity....tend to be the first of things to go....." Peering through one of the shattered windows, the moonlight caught the edge of his covered pauldrons, that portion of his burgundy red haori illuminating ever so slightly before he turned fully toward the shattered window. Silenced followed before he spoke once more. "In this accursed world....." As he contiuned, only stopped by a momentarily pause, his voice dropped into something eerie close to empathy. "You live and adapt to the darkness that threatens you....or you allow it to engulf you, to become like the monsters that took your family..." A unspoken alternative also hung between the two, but he dare not speak it, a third option he could not name. His jaw tightened at the thought. She didn't need the temptation, not when she could recover, this trauma being the foundation for the person she would become, for better or for worse, not that that he want her to become a monster.

What came next was the request for his name, and so, when he heard her distraught voice, It pulled him back from the brink of the worst of his memories, memories he could never forget, no matter how hard he tried. Turning back towards her, his head tilting in her direction, it gave the motion he had done this before. "I am Seto, heir of the Tamashi Clan, a warrior clan located in the De Cevitate Attonbitus, whom are subservient to Kumogakure and it's Raikage" The title rolled off his tongue with ease, having had more practice then he could remember, though, in a place such as this, they felt hollow, not important, and for all intent and purposes, they weren't. Following this, a measured pause came over him as his mind began pondering on what she would next, on what he would do, but the images of his wife, and his apprentice came to mind. It was clear, even If he could feel the weight of the offer he was about to make. "If you so desire, you can return with me. My wife would be more than happy to train you in the ways of a onna bugeisha to better defend yourself." The words he had spoken last were carefully selected, chosen. While it wasn't charity exactly, he wanted to give her a opportunity to better herself, to be given a chance at a new life that wouldn't result in becoming something akin to the men who had attacked her family's ancestral home, but most importantly, a opportunity to wield a blade against the darkness that had stolen her world...​