He knew this place.
He took in every detail, as if trying to pull something, anything, from his fractured mind. His mind... the one thing he relied on... was going crazy in this village hidden beneath the sands.
"Give me your purse... quickly and quietly". A voice whispered harshly from behind him as what felt like a kunai was pressed roughly into his back, threatening to break his skin, or at least ruin his favourite robe.
Migoya sighed. Ever since slipping his leash he had wandered the streets of Sunagakure, reliving memories that were not his yet were, somehow, buried deep within his consciousness. He did not know this place well - he had only visited several years back to establish a Myakashi presence, but that had not worked out well. The buildings now were foreign to him as they had 'moved aboveground' as the locals seemed to state in passing. He had quickly learned that the old city was beried under the current one, and that only a certain type of person would be foolish enough to enter. Having been raised on the streets of Konohagakure during the occupation, Migoya was that certain type of person.
The darkness of the undercity was a reprieve from the glaring sunlight above, the people around him shuffling to go about their business without interference, or indeed trying to hide what they were doing. The wretched and dejected of the world all in one place. It was beautiful, like a garden just waiting to grow.
"Quickly I said", the irritated voice hissed, pressing the kunai a little bit deeper into Migoya's back.
Somehow, Migoya knew this place. He had raised a family here, the Myakashi had been here, he had been a...a Sennin?!? It was absurd of course - how could these things be? Had he lived another life here... why were these memories resurfacing? His mind crinkled in thought, straining to piece together so much information that was flooding in, like sands through an hourglass.
The kunai pressed deeper, drawing some blood.
Names... familiar names drifted into his mind. The Sunan Bull... was a friend? Did he know the Toraono clan... or was it simply his mind piecing together random bits of information his spies had sent him over the years. Why did it feel so personal. Mikki had been uncharacteristically silent since entering Suna, as if struggling with his own memories of the place. It was all so very confusing.
"Right old man, you asked for it"
The kunai bit deeply into Migoya's back, the 'old man' feeling the top of the muggers hand as the blade sunk in deep. Blood seeped from the wound, seemingly gushing out over the strangers hand. Strangely though, Miogya did not move, as if the wound was barely registering. "What... what is this?", the stranger muttered as the thick, black, blood seemed to crawl over his body, growing and spreading. He opened his mouth to shout out, but that simply filled with the foul liquid, silencing his cry. Migoya still stood in thought, trying desperately to piece together any information about this place. He took a step forward as a slight shuffle was heard behind him, the noise registering in the albino's ears, but of insufficient importance to disturb the Myakashi leader. Tendrils of black liquid would now flow into the wound on his back, returning to its souce as the wound closed behind it. For a brief moment the outline of a desiccated husk would stand, holding a kunai, before a small gust of wind would turn it to dust.
Was all life this fleeting?
Myakashi Migoya had questions, and perhaps the answers were in these shadows.
[MFT - 600]
He took in every detail, as if trying to pull something, anything, from his fractured mind. His mind... the one thing he relied on... was going crazy in this village hidden beneath the sands.
"Give me your purse... quickly and quietly". A voice whispered harshly from behind him as what felt like a kunai was pressed roughly into his back, threatening to break his skin, or at least ruin his favourite robe.
Migoya sighed. Ever since slipping his leash he had wandered the streets of Sunagakure, reliving memories that were not his yet were, somehow, buried deep within his consciousness. He did not know this place well - he had only visited several years back to establish a Myakashi presence, but that had not worked out well. The buildings now were foreign to him as they had 'moved aboveground' as the locals seemed to state in passing. He had quickly learned that the old city was beried under the current one, and that only a certain type of person would be foolish enough to enter. Having been raised on the streets of Konohagakure during the occupation, Migoya was that certain type of person.
The darkness of the undercity was a reprieve from the glaring sunlight above, the people around him shuffling to go about their business without interference, or indeed trying to hide what they were doing. The wretched and dejected of the world all in one place. It was beautiful, like a garden just waiting to grow.
"Quickly I said", the irritated voice hissed, pressing the kunai a little bit deeper into Migoya's back.
Somehow, Migoya knew this place. He had raised a family here, the Myakashi had been here, he had been a...a Sennin?!? It was absurd of course - how could these things be? Had he lived another life here... why were these memories resurfacing? His mind crinkled in thought, straining to piece together so much information that was flooding in, like sands through an hourglass.
The kunai pressed deeper, drawing some blood.
Names... familiar names drifted into his mind. The Sunan Bull... was a friend? Did he know the Toraono clan... or was it simply his mind piecing together random bits of information his spies had sent him over the years. Why did it feel so personal. Mikki had been uncharacteristically silent since entering Suna, as if struggling with his own memories of the place. It was all so very confusing.
"Right old man, you asked for it"
The kunai bit deeply into Migoya's back, the 'old man' feeling the top of the muggers hand as the blade sunk in deep. Blood seeped from the wound, seemingly gushing out over the strangers hand. Strangely though, Miogya did not move, as if the wound was barely registering. "What... what is this?", the stranger muttered as the thick, black, blood seemed to crawl over his body, growing and spreading. He opened his mouth to shout out, but that simply filled with the foul liquid, silencing his cry. Migoya still stood in thought, trying desperately to piece together any information about this place. He took a step forward as a slight shuffle was heard behind him, the noise registering in the albino's ears, but of insufficient importance to disturb the Myakashi leader. Tendrils of black liquid would now flow into the wound on his back, returning to its souce as the wound closed behind it. For a brief moment the outline of a desiccated husk would stand, holding a kunai, before a small gust of wind would turn it to dust.
Was all life this fleeting?
Myakashi Migoya had questions, and perhaps the answers were in these shadows.
[MFT - 600]