Until the Bitter End [Private]

[Nakamura Hira]

Continuation

Sore now, aches struck down his tall frame. Time gave the illusion of overlapping itself in Iwagakure. Something about the village of stone felt mechanical, as if a set of gears and pulleys were pulling the strings within its heart--somewhere beneath the footsteps of all its inhabitants. Here, Nakamura Hira was a forgotten name. If any reality was left behind of his life in Kirigakure, it would be to his surprise. In weeks of searching, he found himself at his wits end with the reality he was facing. All traces of his past life were proven inconclusive. There were no tethers binding him to the physical world any longer. He wondered often if he would simply evaporate, or be rinsed away by the intermittent rains that came about the village hidden in the stones. The fear was something he didn't bother with, however. He knew that it was a pointless endeavor, because any answers he received to his questions filled fewer gaps in reason than expected. Nothing ever met his expectations, and he willingly chose to evade disappointment to his greatest capacity.

The lights of the village were dim. Something foreboding was looming in his mind. Since he had arrived in Iwagakure, he had been forced against his will to relive the horror of his experience with his homeland. He felt stuck, like a spirit in some purgatory. Iwagakure was, in essence, a gate of hell for him. It was likely this way for many others now. Guilt overcame him, and he ignored his thoughts as he walked into an alleyway. He watched behind him first, ensuring that he had not been followed here. If he did in fact decide to sit beside a trash receptacle, he didn't want to be caught dead or alive by anyone.

After confirming the low population levels in the streets, he slipped into the darkness of the alley similarly to the way he had slipped on the ice by the gates. As his back slid down the wall behind him, he felt his consciousness slip away. The vertigo had capsized him, and left the flotsam to disperse in an ocean of confusion.

Get a grip.

He spit, blowing some hair out of his mouth. He felt like a drowned crow, eying every little corner of his reality beside a garbage bin. Placing one hand on the container, he felt the cold metal and dented it with his fist. He felt trapped.

But then, he laughed.

An eruption of laughter protruded from him, as he felt waves of surrender come over himself. Surely, he was going completely mad. Every time he tried to examine himself from an objective perspective, he would see the comedy and tragedy doing cartwheels on his life. He felt pitiful, but he wanted none of it. No. He wanted it all to himself. He shook his face off, brushing the rain from his eyes as he stared upwards.

What a world.

He exhaled, feeling his soul get flushed down the proverbial 'shitter' of stone village as he fell asleep in the alleyway. In such an utterly disoriented state, he thought that he would never be found here. Somewhere inside he believed that he had already been found, but perhaps he was simply imagining that.

[Topic Entered.]
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[Haruka]

Burning, burning... Deep down within her soul, a suffering feeling, and she was delusional at this point. The pain that laced her mind was enough to make her stumble to and fro, much like someone whom had a little bit too much to drink at this point. Every stumble into a wall and lapse in consciousness seared a reminder into her mind that she was not ready to drop. She was not ready to crash, but the burn marks that littered her pale flesh were incredibly undeniable. She had not found her way home from the battle despite wanting to do so, struggling to do so. Her mind was too foggy, so here she was, supporting herself and hardly gripping onto reality. The snow and ice was beginning to melt away from the village, the heat returning to make every wound that she had sustained throb horrendously. Her heart still skipped a few beats and rolled in her chest in it's struggle to pump blood through her system. Reaching up, she would press a hand against her chest, half moistened from the gathering collection of blood and coagulants that gathered there. Maybe she needed to see a doctor? Hell, over her dead body. She could sustain herself at least until she stumbled her way to Gai... Right? Wait, she saw her, or so Haruka would think in her state of mind. Her feet would step into the alleyway and she would soon take a moment before dropping down harshly to her already damaged knees.

The skin strained against her muscle, the flesh threatening to rip open hotly and spill more of her blood against the floor of the alleyway. However, she could rest safe. Seeing Hira as her life long caretaker, it gave her a sense of relief that only a person that had been blown up multiple times could feel. And then... "Wake up," came the shaken tone of her voice before she would lift up a hand to press against her solar plexus. A rough cough, and then a harsh spatter of blood would be forced from her lungs... Wait, where was she again? A daze, it was all a daze...

With a dull thud, the woman would now lay at the feet of Nakamura Hira. She was awake, kind of... Her eyes would simply just stare in a blank manner to a wall. She really wanted to go to sleep. It was the only thing that she could think of... "I don't... know where I am." She'd speak to the silence around, the enveloping darkness.

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Just a Car Crash Away

From the corner of his eye, he saw something. In the complete decimation of his conscious awareness, he stumbled through a series of windowed momentary memories. His body jolted, galvanized in the soaking rain. Some noise had triggered a rise in his observational function. At his very feet, a heap of flesh and blood laid quietly breathing in the dampness. His two glazed eyes hovered about the street, uncertain of how he had even gotten there.

Where--

He thrust his palm to the ground, creating pressure to support his weight. He lifted himself a few inches from the ground, only to return to the position he originally found himself in. Grimacing in misery, he stared at the bundle of bones and flesh lying at his feet. Whoever she was, she looked like she belonged there. He reached forward, slumping himself with all his weight towards his feet. His hands found their pathways to her scalp, and they began to intertwine themselves in her hair. Anyone who passed by would likely assume they were mad; but in reality, they were like two stray cats huddling for warmth in a time of great danger.

Two silvery gauntlets caught gloom as they shoved themselves into the stone bellow him. He forced himself up from the ground, standing with a slight wobble. He felt insane, like some kind of witchdoctor with a patron saint messiah in arm's reach. He examined the blonde woman in all of her glory, noting her frailty. He bent down, lifting her body from a deep puddle. Her hair dripped between his steel-covered fingers, and created ripples in the pool below her as he carried her up. With the last of his strength, he pulled her full weight from the filth of the street waste and water. She hung in his arms like a rag doll, needing to be sewed back together.

In the night, he admired this woman's beauty for a brief moment. He returned quickly to the present, reminding himself of his purpose here. He wasn't in Iwagakure to make friends; no, he was here like a homing pigeon. If he intended to deliver his delegated message to the world, he had to remain focused. Walking away from the mouth of the alley, he carried her deeper into the night of Stone Village with her. Some unknown destination.

Using his free arm, he pulled his cloak over his eyes only to return his arm to supporting her weight. Using some pressure, he tried to force a few doorways inward on the buildings down the alley. One after another, he found himself without entry and nearer to a rainy dead-end where no answers could be derived. But as he neared the end of the street, he found an iron wrought door left ajar. A flickering light was emitted from within, and he carried her out of the inundation of the autumn rains and into the hallway of some cellar corridor. A set of stairs led up and down, and he chose to move downwards for fear of discovery.

The cemented stairs began to steepen and narrow as he progressed downward, ultimately opening to the floor of a gloomy cellar. A simple lightbulb hung from the ceiling, hanging stiller than the moon in a night sky. The only motions that the light made were a result of vibrations within the edifice, and they were hardly visible even to his trained eyes.

Let's see what we've got.

He threw her on the ground, and began rummaging through her clothing and belongings with his hands. She was bleeding profusely, and it had completely pervaded through her clothing and onto his. He tore off a shred of her blouse, revealing a wound to her side.

She looks like she was almost claimed to the unliving...

He crossed his arms, stepping back for a moment. He felt uncomfortable in the room with her, all alone in his weakened state. Pondering for a moment, he reached up and loosened the lightbulb hanging above them until it flickered on and off in a delayed frequency. He pulled a blanket from his pack and placed it on the floor, quickly moving her atop it.

I hope she doesn't die here. It would've been even sadder to die in a puddle in an alley, with nobody watching.

He stared at her, befuddled.<i></i>​

 

[Haruka]

Waves, and waves, that's what it felt like she was riding on. The consciousness would come in intermittent bursts only to reveal the pain that she had been enduring during that time she had lulled into unconsciousness. Perhaps this was death. A pure form where she was left to nothing more than a dingy little puddle in the bleakness of an alleyway, begging for the person she had mistaken for her handmaiden to wake up. Otherwise, with the funk that spread throughout her mind and the images that popped up that were not there, it was easy for her to deduce that she was far more hurt than she had anticipated. She shouldn't have used the last bit of her strength to execute Endo and his pet, but if she had hesitated, the ability would've slipped away, right through her porcelain fingers. It wouldn't have mattered if she had passed away as well, would it...? The Kingslayer was here, struggling to make amends with the patron diety of life. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she so easily took life away from others, and that was why it felt so damned hard to coax it back into her body. A low groan would echo from her throat as she was picked up in Hira's arms, no part of her body picking up. It lay there, lax like she had no muscle what so ever. The steps that took her to a place she knew even less about were ones that threatened to make her want to cry out in pain, but she was swimming too far beneath the surface to make much of a commotion. Hell, were her eyes even open at this point? What she could see was an odd white light, much like she was going to take it upon herself to pass out, or something like that. Damnit. If only it would come to her, right? She could feel parts of her body attempting to rejuvinate, to repair, and to restore proper function. The less she moved, the more her body built itself back up. That was just the way that the shinobi worked, was it not? Shallow breathing, even as she was cast down to the floor below. The glaring pain would cause a gasp to escape the young woman's lips as she opened her eyes for the briefest of moments. Her blue hues would roll back into her skull every so often, and finally she would settle her eyes closed once more as the pain dulled out.

On her person, Hira would find a decently sized scroll ( contents pending ), a few different weapons, and a silver locket. Hell, she didn't even have shoes on her feet. The burns scored her flesh too deeply, too far, and even parts of her clothing were burned away by the prior explosions. One of her hands would shakily raise up, pressing against her forehead. Cold, she was even colder than what she had ever been before. A seal would begin to crawl it's way up her hand from her wrist, then along her arm, and even taking a hold of one side of her facial features. The solar seal, better late than never, would react to her abysmal state and begin the process of healing the young woman. Burns would begin to stitch themselves back together, slowly but surely. The hand would fall away, resting down against the blanket that she had been placed upon now. What in the hell?

"...Turn the damn lights off. I have a massive headache."

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Be quiet.

His words muffled the echo of her voice in the sub-basement. He crossed his arms, looking around the room for something. A few footsteps resounded, succeeded by a terrible scraping racket. A metal filing cabinet fell onto the ground with a thud, as the giant figure dropped it beside Haruka's body. The room was full of boxes and other odds and ends which had likely been employed for other uses in the past, but now they were meaningless. Forgotten. The two Shinobi in the room shared some temporary relation to the purposeless items. They were relics of the past, both abandoned in some sense by their own realities here.

Lifting her by one arm, he dangled her body over the metal box and draped her corpse across it like some type of operating table. Her skin was so fair in the fluorescent lighting that she almost appeared like bleached rice on a milling tray. In the motion, his head crashed into the dangling light bulb causing it to sway with an unerring screech. Everything was so vividly sharp, it almost felt like a hallucination. Back and forth, back and forth the light danced in the haze of his perception. It almost felt like they were on the brink of entering hell together.

Don't be fooled for even one second that I am some merciful force sent down from above to relieve you of yourself.

His right hand traced itself up her body. Hip, neck, hinge of the jaw--his pointed finger connected itself to the corner of her skull. Emitting a small percentage of chakra through his hands, he placed pressure on her brain. The sensation this would create would likely make her dizzy, feeling as though she was in a state of vertigo. She probably felt like she was falling through clouds of great viscosity with no landing in sight for miles. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket, placing it over her eyes to darken the view.

The strong receive no mercy from their makers.

Picking through her belongings, he began to assort them on the nap-sack he left on the floor. Reading the seals left on the outside of a scroll she bore, his eyes widened in curiosity. The woman was carrying a skeleton of her very own. He swept it away into his jacket, and continued rummaging through the belongings. He slid her sword out of its sheath, admiring the craftsmanship applied in its creation. He tasted the blood on the blade, verifying his suspicions in silence.

You look like a doily soaked in crimson, charred with scorn and bitterness from a cup that sat upon you.

He sat upon her for far too long.

Tell me before I kill you, what kind of kunoichi carries the dead body of her leader into the gutters and drifts away into a gentle repose?

With her sword, he cracked open her locket.

And how has she, of any being across the lands, come to be in the possession of a photograph of Ichi Mizukage Minamoto Taro? Even more curious yet.

He placed his hand on her solar plexus, applying pressure yet again. This would likely nauseate her at first, but he did so as a means to regulate her body. Her homeostasis would begin to fall apart if her bleeding was not rectified shortly, and time was running ever so short. With his off hand, he swung her sword just over her head and embedded it in the filing cabinet just above her neck. It hung over her like a guillotine caught in its own tracks. He then left it hanging free, and began to wipe around her eyes with the indigo silk cloth. Pulling a canteen from his waist, he rinsed fer face off in areas where the blood had dried itself. She was filthier than him.

Drink, now. Answer later.

He held the leather cask over her mouth, waiting for her to sip at it from beneath the blade. At least he was hospitable.<i></i>​

 

[Haruka]

My, my, my. Someone was awfully wordy now, were they not? And that much was incredibly annoying in the back of her mind. After all, had it not been the constant idiots who followed her around the village who spoke way, way too much? Yeah. A small breath of hers would be drawn in, rejuvinating as it might of been, it was interrupted by an annoying racket. The noise almost managed to make her visibly flinch, but she held onto her nerves. After all, she had just trudged through explosion after explosion just to keep herself alive. A shudder would pass her lips soon there after as she kept a nauseated feeling from rising up in the back of her throat. It was then that she'd realize that she was truly, and irrevocably lost. What a bother... As he grappled at her sprained arms, there would come an audible crackle, crunch of the connecting muscle tissue and tendons, the sinew under her flesh strained with the motion. Her teeth clenched, but she didn't cry out, but the sick feeling grew worse and worse. It seemed that the ex-Tsuchikage had done so much more than just a number on her. It was beyond annoying-- even more annoying than this person moving her around like she was some kind of cadaver. "I am not so naiive to think such thoughts," everyone was a predator when you were a shinobi. Unless you chose to give yourself completely to someone, you couldn't trust people fully. Her political prowess and position had taught her very well about such subject matter. As she was laid there on the metal filing cabinet, she would thank whatever force that had been that her arm was no longer feeling like it was being ripped from the socket. She hadn't even been able to lift them back up over her head yet, but the seal upon her wrist, arm, shoulder, and now face, even bleeding into the white of her left eye... It was working on her health, bringing her strength back, bit by agonizing bit. But her eyes would settle closed now, simply just laying there. It hadn't mattered to her what stuff he rummaged through. What would he find? The Kage's body? Big deal. Her sword? She could smith another one. Her material possesions did not define her, so she was not bothered by such things. Nor was she preturbed by the words that the man would speak at her.

Kill her? Many had tried, and all had very clearly failed. Her leader? Endo wished he had been her leader. She was the blizzard, the uncontrolled force. The Crystal Dragon who put men and women to shame all alike. It was only right that she had killed the man. After all, had it not been him who had destroyed so many aspects of her life? Her answer would've came, but there would be a hand pressed down into her solar plexus along with a sudden nauseated feeling. A thrush of blood would suddenly lurch up her throat, raking at the fleshy walls now and spilling over into her scattered hair beneath of her. Harsh coughing led her to not even flinch at the sound of her sword crashing down into the cabinet just above her throat. Shaking now, she would drag in breaths that felt more lively, more burning than the last. Yeah, life was seeping back into her muscles and all that fun stuff, but damn if it didn't hurt. As her face was wiped away of the soot and dried blood, she would open her eyes just slowly, the deep crystalline blue color watching him carefully. She would then take a drink of the water, clearing her mouth of the blood that had risen and she would then look up towards the ceiling.

Answer later?

"I am the Twenty-third Earthen Daimyō, Minamoto-Kono Haruka. Is it strange for Daddy's little girl to tote around a picture of her mother and father in a locket?" She'd sigh a little bit now, more annoyed than anything. She wanted to see her son. To hold him tight and to make sure that he was okay. "Inu Endo was no leader of mine. And I'll be damned if any attacks upon me are not greeted with death. Like my father, I now walk the path of the Kage. Whether it is accepted, or not." Her eyes would settle closed again, another breath passing her lips. It would form into a condensed cloud, the cold meeting the semi-warm air.

"Of any being across this land, I believe it is I who is most appropriate to hold that locket. I'd like it back in pristine condition, or I have no promise as to what I will do. Just like Minamoto Taro, I am cursed with the spirit of the Jinchuuriki though I have come to control it, but... I'd prefer not to do anything rash. I've filled my daily murder quota already. Have you anymore questions for me before you try and kill me?" A fanged grin now.

 

[Nakamura Hira]

I Would Have Stolen You A Whole Orchestra

His head was cocked to the side, jaw clenched tight. Face turned, several vertebrae cracked under the pressure of the strain. The woman that he had happened upon in the alley was far more valuable than any stray he could have imagined to encounter. For at least a minute, his lungs drew not a single breath of air from the room. She knew little of what she had done. He felt a wave of shame brush itself upon him, like a rush from the rising tide of a wild oceanfront. If he had not been humbled in his loss, he would likely have been washed away in a second. He was fortunate to even be standing over her.

Sliding his hand gently to the hilt of the blade, he lifted the sword out of the metal with ease. With a sharp clink, the sword bounced off the floor beside the two of them. He knelt, and began to softly brush her fair skin clean. Each touch was carefully orchestrated, as to avoid any trace of implication. With his large hands, he placed pressure on her shoulder and popped it back into place. He spoke not a single word, as he slowly mended her outward appearance. Removing a small phial from his bag, he pierced its cork with a syringe and began to inject the woman with a light anesthetic toxin to dull her senses.

I am going to fix you.

Pulling some thread from his bag, he threaded an incredibly fine needle. Rinsing a few of the wounds around her flesh, he sewed the slices together. Although he had never ventured into the medical field, his eyes had given him a unique advantage in mending his own personal wounds throughout time. His ability to apply chakra had found many uses, even now as he held back the bloodflow of the Daimyo of Iwagakure.

First her collarbone, then her waist, then her ankle... He sat beside her, stitching her flesh together with meticulous precision. She couldn't see him crying all the while. But every tear he caught and wiped into the wounds, healing them with their saline anti-bacterial properties. At least, he hoped so. Eventually, he came to a slice in her arm that was more intimidating in size. He held her arm tight with one large hand, wrapping her to keep it under pressure. It had a long valley of stitches necessary to close it, and it was going to take quite some time and endurance on her part.

I'm sorry.

His voice was filled with the dim crackle of his spirit to fight the reality he found himself in. Grabbing the canteen he offered her to drink, he poured it along with some alcohol he carried onto a rag, and began to rinse the wounds to purity. He flinched, in hesitant anticipation for her reaction to the pain--hoping from within that she would remain silent. Most, however, would scream like wicked banshees.
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[Haruka]

No response for a small amount of time here... What was going on? She could hear the popping sound of bones, but maybe she was just tuning things out again, or maybe her head was swimming just that hard that she couldn't muster any ability to do anything. Another cough, another fine mist of blood that would raise up into the air to simply just float there in an eerie manner... Her vapor affinity was one of the most aggressive affinities that she had along with the ice that she held power over, so it had a tendency to hang around. Floating off into the corner of the room, it would slowly disperse into a small sprinkle down to the ground. The blade that had been suspiciously close to her throat would be removed only to be clattered down to the ground. What was going on? Then, touching against her burning flesh and her blue eyes would open slowly, a bit tiredly albeit. The stressors were getting to her. It was hard. Not to mention her head throbbed from where it had been struck by Endo. She wouldn't have been surprised if she had ended up with whiplash. There didn't need to be speaking right now. Just thought, attempting to figure out these reactions of why this large man was acting in such a strange manner. Could he have been an ally of her father's? It seemed that mentioning his name would quell any blood lust that might've been directed towards her. Was there more of an allegiance to a faded village rather than Stone? Her thoughts trailed back to Keiatsu for a second, who was convinced to get her to help him fix his village due to her Jinchuuriki's curse and blessing of ice. However, her thoughts were cut short as the feeling of the ball like joint of her arm was shoved back into the socket of her shoulder. Her lips would part just a bit in a silent scream, hot tears flooding into her eyes. She'd never brushed closer to death than she had in the past few hours, so it was hard to dance with the pain that had been dealt to her. The tears would fall down her temples, not even freezing to her skin or making little crystals. The hot saline would splash into her hair, mixing with the soot and blood there. If she had looked into a mirror right now, it would be a shock. So much grime, dirt, blood, and whatever else could've collected on her flesh. She must've looked like nothing more than a woman who had just crawled out of the gutter after a choice encounter with one of her clients.

Fix.. her.. He was going to fix her now. No more talk of killing. Could that have been considered progress? She wasn't entirely sure. The prick of the needle was minute in comparison to any other pain that she might've been feeling at the time. The throb of her shoulder would radiate throughout her upper arm and neck. It was enough to make her want to scream, but she would be damned if she would. She did not do that. Not even in the harshest of situations. She would keep her lips secured. Chakra, chakra... How much had she regained at this point? Did she have enough to do something that would be able to put her at ease? She thought so. Her hand would lift just slowly. The unmarred one from the cursed sealing there. From her tips, a gentle ice would flow free from it. From the top down, a clone of Haruka would stand there. Clean, pristine, showing what the woman should've looked like without all of the chaos that had been waged upon her. Her eyes had even been their lovely sapphire hue. "If you... if you need help." The real Haruka would speak, staring up towards the ceiling. She didn't know why he was fixing her, but she was grateful. She'd be stupid not to be. The needle would work through her flesh like a fabric, bringing the flesh back together so that it would heal with a little bit less harsh scarring. How much had she been bleeding? How much was she broken? She couldn't tell. She didn't take the time to examine herself. She was numb. And the numbness conquered whatever pain that there might have been. It was crazy to say, but... Without his care, she probably would've let those wounds fester there in the alleyway as she just lay, holding onto whatever life that she had left. The clone would sit next to Hira, peering up towards him as she watched. The tears had not been necessary. The icy figure would reach out, holding whatever it needed to to help him have a better grab on the situation, to fix her to his best ability. The clone didn't dare stare for too long. There was no need to make a caged bird crack under any kind of pressure. It wouldn't have ended well for any party involved.

As the water and alcohol would swash over her flesh, yet another silent scream. It was pure torture, but she knew he was helping him, and she did not need to make his eardrums burst. His apologies... but she didn't know what they were for. The clone would speak in place for Haruka: "There isn't a need for apologies. All men, all women, all have different reactions. Thank you for your help... How can I repay you for your kindness?" More like she wanted to know what she could do for the tortured soul of Nakamura Hira.

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Killing Me

Warmth pervaded the space between the two ninja. They were foreign to one another, but somehow connected. He continued working diligently on the slices in her flesh, drawing them together with thread in the dimmed fluorescence. Water fell from either side of her face beneath his handkerchief. Her heart was streaming down the metallic surface she was being refitted with. Blood covered his fingertips. The cotton from his knapsack had run crimson before his eyes. She had lost a lot of blood, and it was a wonder that she even remained conscious at this hour.

No, Minamoto-Kono Haruka. It is of my fondest pleasure to serve your will to live and rule.

He coughed, hacking up the musty air hanging about.

I am Nakamura Hira, and I am the last A.N.B.U Captain of Kirigakure. I am likely one of the last surviving elite shinobi that have weathered the brutal end of my nation with a stalwart oath to renew it.

Grabbing the bottle of alcohol, he twirled a cap around its neck and sealed it closely. His eyes wandered the surface of her pallid skin, seeking maligns that he could render innocuous to her well-being. There were a few small wounds, but nothing further appeared to warrant the application of a sewing needle. Drawing it away from her, he began to unravel a ball of gauze and masking tape. The arduous part of the process was over. For now, all that was necessary was rest and proper dressing of her wounds. She would likely live to say she defeated the Tsuchikage with fashionable marks to validate her story.

Your father was a great man. As a matter of fact, one of the most revered individuals my people have ever known. To touch your flesh is to honor his creation, in life and in death.

He held his breath for a moment, becoming lost in his own thoughts. Connections were beginning to draw themselves together, and their connotations colored the mist native overwhelmed. For the first time since he had arrived in Iwagakure, he had encountered some one or something worth a damn. She was the ferrywoman, bearing the only rational omen of a direction to journey. She was hope.

I am alive because I was designed to survive. In that sense, we share commonality.

Grabbing his bag, he pulled out a candle and stood it on a ceramic saucer the luggage bore. Setting it aflame, he shattered the light bulb above them with an explosive burst of chakra. The harsh brightness of the bulb was gone, and replaced by a smooth flickering of wick and wax. The breath of the two had begun to alter the pressure in the room, occasionally causing the flame to sway. Then, he removed the handkerchief from her eyes as a means to permit her to see.

I have traveled far and wide searching for any trace of a panacea to the disease that eliminated my homeland. There are secrets... Secrets buried deep within the frost there. In the wrong hands, the world would be seen decimated. What has happened to my home is only the beginning of what the world will come to experience. My kin, however, are the only people I trust with the duty of protecting such secrets.

Tying gauze around her arms, he began to bandage her. He did so delicately, expecting a soreness to likely still be present even with the analgesic anesthesia he had provided her. He wove each cotton band with light pressure, but not in excess of course. He meant well for the woman.

I too walk the path of the kage. Though my lands have been ravaged by storm and glacial wrath, I stand as a reminder of time memorialized. If you are to be the next Tsuchikage of Iwagakure, you will have my undying force to propel you like wind in your shoes. An alliance once stood between our fair countries, and in the world I live that holds true eternally.

Resting a hand on his arm, he spoke firmly.

I don't know why I have encountered you here, but I do know this, I believe Minamoto Taro is present with us in this moment. He brought me to you.

He trembled in the intensity of kismet.

I will help you ascend to the throne, if you ask it of me.

His voice trailed off, into the darkness. It felt like de ja vu

[MFT]<i></i>​

 

[Haruka]

The bloodloss, surely, was immaculate, but she had something to do, a mission to force herself through. She couldn't idly lay dead in the face of what needed to be worked upon. The village needed work, the country needed work, and the world needed her to be able to function on a normal level. So no matter the wooziness that she might've felt, the nauseated feeling the pain of Hira's stitching, and the heated manner that her flesh remained in... She could not give up, even in the face of anything such as this. It was the definition of being a strong willed being, someone who did not give up even when everyone else had folded. He spoke, and she would listen. It was the best thing that she could do. His voice gave her something to desperately grip onto as he worked on healing up her body, and her cursed sealing worked on healing her body all in the same fashion. She had a will to live, but to rule? It was harder to explain. Did she want to rule? She was a benevolent leader, but one had to be sure not to cross her, or she would come down with an iron fist. She was not one who wanted to play any kind of games especially when her people's lives hung on the leylines. "N-nakamura Hira..." She would breathe out his name, little blood droplets dancing in the air simply to fall back onto her face. "The last loyal ANBU Captain of Mist.." She knew that her mother had been a Captain there, oh so long ago, but the woman had moved on to larger things such as acting as the Twenty-Second, the ruler before her. Her body temperature would elevate bit by bit, the cold leaving her to replace with the firey affinity that she also held within. A fever, that was what had to have been happening. It wouldn't be strange for her to not contract some sort of infection from Endo's shrapnel flying all around in the air. The most annoying thing that had ever happened to her in a long time. How the hell could someone fight like that? What a lazy fighting style... A shiver would suddenly rock at her body and she would squeeze her eyes shut, listening to him speak of her father now. It was odd to hear someone speak so fondly of him, but she never really gave people the information that she was the daughter of a Dark Sage and her resurrection. Necrophilia was probably hard to explain. Like, incredibly hard.

"H-he is, he is a good man," she would shudder out, her wounds being dressed up to keep them from being exposed to the must and dust that existed within this room. Reaching up, she would wave a hand towards the clone that had been summoned, and her doppleganger would fall to the ground in nothing more than a pile of snow. "The permaf.. permafrost..." She would speak, muscles still shuddering to contest to her fever that was ticking like a time bomb now. "Curse, it cursed me." Squeezing her eyelids together, she attempted to collect her thought process. It was harder than she anticipated. The shit part was only just beginning. She might've no longer been bleeding, but holding blood within her veins meant now that she was subject to becoming more and more infected with the filth that Endo had enacted upon her. "A demon that I have had all of my life up u-until recent..." Her voice would rasp out. With her shaking arms, she would push herself up harshly into a sitting position, her image illuminated in the candle light that he provided. If she didn't get off of the cabinet, it felt like she was going to melt the metal there. The flames within her very core were threatening, they sought to destroy whatever might've caused her harm much like the snow and ice did.

"Dad i-is where ever his people need him," she would state firmly, closing her eyes for a few moments as she bit down onto her lip. If anyone else were here, she would sound quite like a rambling woman. Thankfully they were alone though. Her fingers would warp the metal of the cabinet as she dug them in, opening her eyes now to watch the tall man.

"Please, help me see to it that this land does not fall into the wrong hands again. I do not wish to sound selfish, but... I do ask of your help. I will not allow my people to fall to war. I will not leave them alone and succumb to vainglory and greed..." No shuddering in this statement, and her blue eyes reflected her ambition even if she was growing sickened. "Nakamura Hira, please help me take the throne and I will be indebted to you and your mission as well."

 

[Haruka]

[ OoC: The topic goes on! Thanks for your patience! It means a lot to me <3 <3 <3! ]

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Breathing in all of her words, he stared down at her vacantly for a moment. It seemed for now at least that he was not alone. Taro's daughter had awoken a spirit within him that he believed to be long gone, but clearly now it still remained. The spirit to fight, and resist the reality that ever presently spoke of doom and loss. He would be able to bring the story of Water Country back to life, if he did everything within his power to ensure her victory. He was unstoppable alone, but together the two of them could enact change that would stretch on into the future forever. They could reclaim the world of the beaten and the damned, and resurrect reality for what it was truly meant to evolve unto.

I do not doubt your words, nor do I doubt the valor that guided you to your apparent victory.

He looked down at his hands, smearing her blood between his fingertips. He was painted in her essence, like some abstraction of a great artist. In some way, he had been marked and claimed to her ends. He could feel the truth of her direction guiding him. He was ensnared.

I feel as though, between us we likely share the power to create a world where no such travesties endure their lifespans. We can usher in a future where there are no doubts, nor possibilities of tyrannical beings enslaving nations. We can ensure that there will never be a repetition of Inu Endu in history again.

He stared into her eyes, pleadingly.

If I am to assist you in your purposes, I need you to assist me in return. I see within you the ability to affect change in others. Can you drive forth force within my entity? Can you grant me the ability to unlock a strength from deep within myself that echoes forth like an unstoppable force? Can you mark me with your demons?

He placed his hand on her shoulder, teasing the mark with her fingertips. He had seen the chakra circulate as a defense mechanism, and he knew exactly what such a carefully crafted inscription was capable of.

Can you awaken the powers of earth within me?​

 

[Haruka]

A mission akin to her own to be indebted to. She could take on more than what she could shoulder. After all, she chose to take on Akechi's sights as well... So that much would never bother her. After all, she was a woman who stood with the very world attempting to bring her down, but she still kept a straight backed and proud appearance no matter whom or what attempted to topple her over. The sickness that swelled within her chest was being fended off, and the hot, hot feeling that thrushed through her veins caused her to squeeze her eyes shut even as she stood there. Damn the bullshit. Damn it all, but she would take it all in stride. The seal that danced along her flesh, breathed as though it were alive, and all kinds of things that threatened so much destruction would fend her body against any infection that threatened her. Her body would visibly heal, that much she was sure Hira could watch in all of it's strange glory. "I will kill whomever, whatever, and however... If a man or woman chooses to become like Inu Endo, I will kill them. If they attempt to besmirch my name once more and smear my blood, life, and whatever else across the pavement... I'll collect their head as well. I will not accept anyone attempting to put me down, no matter who they think they may be." Her tone of voice was oddly serious, very contrary. The way that he looked within her eyes, she could feel whatever he desired attempting to bury down within her very soul. Strange, right? Was he asking for... for the ache, the burn that she suffered all the same? Crystalline blue eyes would close for a moment, before they would reopen, appearing to be a demonic yellow with odd slitting. A true testament to the jinchuuriki within her very soul. Something that she had long since enslaved to her power and her power alone. Were there any words to be spoken at this point?

No, just silence. She would help the man who saved her. She would give him the power that he sought. Her eyes spoke volumes about what she could do. What she was capable of... Lifting one of her hands, she would allow her sharp nails to reflect within the candle light. It was an action that showed that the man might want to brace himself. After all, it wasn't something that was ever not messy. With a sudden speed and alacrity, she would force those sharp nails into the side of the man's neck, the dark energy dancing at her fingertips there as she watched him, an almost blank, doll-like look touching her features. Her fingers would skewer flesh, brushing against his jugular vein just lightly. A breath would pass her lips, revealing the absurdly long canines that protruded from her gumline. In this process, she bestowed what could only be described as a part of herself to these people. She gave them a piece of the demon that threatened to overpower and flood her soul... And she was quite alright with that. However, on Hira's end, it would probably burn like hell, hurt more than anything else that he had experienced, and it would threaten to freeze over his very soul. It was simply how these things worked out, after all. "..." Her hand would not move. Not until she was complete, after all.

It all depended on his reaction here.

[ Scribing Gaia Seal to Hira ]

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Bury Your Flames

Everything was gone. All had evaporated into such a depth of nothing. The most piercing visual memory remained in the wake of all things. Her teeth peering over her lips had shattered a white burn into his eyes. For an instant he felt completely blind, as if he was swimming in a pool of Chakra. As far as he stared, as hard as he looked, he could see nothing forever. Bathed in a haze of white like snow, he was lost in a fugue of ether in her grasp. He was gone.

Falling away from her, he slipped onto a wheeled chair wrought of black leather. His breathing began to pick up in the panic of his disorientation, and protruded out through sound and time as he lost control of his body. Each breath became heavier, and heavier, as he inhaled a poison more intoxicating than any he could have possibly imagined. power. And he swallowed each filthy mouthful of it, writhing in his numbness as if it were pain. Everything was a blur, including the streak of his own consciousness.

One arm lifted itself from his side, but quickly after fell limp as he found himself unable to speak. He was overwhelmed by the unimaginable gravity of his world crumbling to pieces before her, but he had no regrets. His euophoria resided over him with such powerful intention that he couldn't will it away even if he had tried. The meaning of all things began to fade in the humming eternal of his vibrational frequency. And so, he remained plastered in the seat. A great wave of darkness bathed over him in the gloom of the quarter they occupied.

Am I dead?

He asked her once, but he didn't even hear himself speak. He couldn't even feel it. Hell, he wasn't even sure he said anything--he felt a trace of awareness that he had at least attempted to say something. Everything began to shudder around him. He felt like a being made entirely of water. In fact, he probably was. He continued giving his body commands, but felt no response. Maybe he had died?

Am I?

He waited for her to speak to him, and his fear grew greater and greater with each passing fraction of a second that he had fallen into a rift of limbo. Perhaps he had damned himself into some punishment to which he would receive no exoneration? Or perhaps Haruka was merely a liar, some witch with malicious intent bearing only the desire to thwart him from his highest purpose in life. Maybe she was just a devil like the rest.

But he hoped she wasn't, for some reason.

[MFT] <i></i>​

 

[Haruka]

The intoxication. The infatuation with the feeling. That was the one thing that Haruka could remember feeling when she obtained her first cursed seal... It was also the time that she had lost a major part of herself, and gained another large factor within her life. How frustrating, no? It always seemed that these things came along with a lot of heavy things. For Hira, it'd be a young, ambitious woman attempting to overlook her village in lieu of anything else that might've taken place. As the male slipped away from her very grasp, she would look down with reflecting yellow eyes towards the blood that coated and slickened her fingers. Rubbing the sides of her fingers together, she'd give a small hum in response to this. It seemed the man bled the same red that anyone else did. Except for her clans men and women. They bled such an array of colors. It was actually very beautiful, demented, and above all else, it was an interesting trait. Lifting her blood coated hand up to her mouth, she would allow the sanguine coloration to layer just lightly along her lips, her tongue snaking out and taking a taste. Now, what was worse? The fact that she had dealt such a curse upon someone, or that she was reveling within their very pain and bloodshed? It was a good question to ask herself, but hey, Nakamura Hira had asked for this curse. Who was she to deny a person of their desires of power? Lifting herself up very slowly and to a stand, she would watch the man as he writhed where he sat. Her hand would drop down to her side and she would pace to his side now, soon finding herself at his back. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she would lean down close to his ear and she would speak just lightly:

"You're alive. Your body can withstand the onslaught that I bestowed upon you. I wouldn't inflict a curse on someone that couldn't handle it unless I truly, truly hated them." She would whisper just lightly now as she watched him carefully. He would lull, bob, weave, and any other motion to keep his head above water as the power latched itself to his very core chakra systems. How interesting, right? The tug and strain at the crude stitching on her body was exhausting in itself, but she would continue hovering there above the man who seemingly knew her father. After all, if he died, what kind of monster would she be? After all, she was the one who killed the men who threatened existence here in the village. Not the one who threatened existence of her people.

"Death is an eternal rest. We are not here to rest, Nakamura Hira."

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Somewhere, night had fallen. For the first time in more than a decade, he found himself in complete darkness. An exhilaration beyond any proper confession pounced around his nerves, leaping like a panther set free from a zoo. His flesh twitched beneath his garments under the tension of anxiety. Reclining in the chair to stave off muscular spasms, he dipped himself away from where he last remembered Haruka to be. He had no idea that he had actually tipped himself in the complete obtuse direction, but it meant nothing to a blind man. Perhaps that was the point. He fed off of the freedom of not seeing the world. So often had he desired to fall asleep in darkness, incapable of viewing the outside world. So long had he imagined a day that held some trace of real night.

He showed no signs of slowing down from the enveloping energy. It ripped down his spine, causing him to arch back in the chair in pain. He gasped silently as he could remain, holding back his urge to reveal his inner enjoyment. She knew so little of him, and if they were to remain acquainted or even amicable he wished to avoid disclosing such intimate details of himself. Ninjas were often like this out of habit, but he felt such a way out of self-interest. It was difficult to remain in touch with himself, now more than ever.

Your words are of little consolation--

He groaned his words out in a rasp, failing to speak with his usual clarity. He was under too much pressure to manage.

But I am glad you don't hate me. Thanks.

He half laughed, half shrieked, and half sighed, as if that was a possible mathematical fraction. To imagine it was one thing, but to see it and hear it was another. He was pinned by his own energy, feeling it surge and transform within his corporeal essence. There were very few boundaries now between him and some unknown end, which felt tangibly close but yet so incredibly far away. Maybe the woman was lying. Maybe he was already flatlining.

I do not fear death, Minamoto-Kono Haruka. I fear pain. There is nothing to fear when you are dead. The only thing to fear in life is pain, because as long as you are alive you are forced to feel it. And it too feels you until you die, before it moves on to its next prisoner.

He shivered in rhythmic patterns between breaths, using logic to prevent himself from entering a seizure. He felt certain that he would even with his efforts to halt it in mind, but he tried to the greatest of his strength to fight the inevitable. Such was the nature of life and death: a struggle of forces destined to their ends. He was destined to his, as was she.

You know--I thought for the longest time that I was fighting the good fight. Some part of me inside still believes that I am...

He had begun to shift into some other place of mind. He was delirious. Nothing he was saying now was even making sense, he simply spoke as a means to retain conscious presence.

But I am not. No, no, no. I am not.

He looked to be somewhere in between pain and insecurity, like a child who didn't understand some element to a situation. Somewhere half between tears and laughter, or fear and excitement. He was on the threshold of something far more catastrophic than he had anticipated when he stitched her together. He was coming off his hinges.

I don't want to die a prisoner.

His voice sank. And then, the screaming began.

KILL ME.

He jolted within the seat. The cat was out of the bag.<i></i>​

 

[Haruka]

Do you fear the dark? It was enveloping, enough to make a man go insane. The absolute dark was a place to be feared and to run away from. That was why men died in the caverns and crevices beneath the Earthen country. As beautiful as these places may have been, they also held onto some of the most infamous places to die. The woman would stand before Nakamura Hira, her arms folded neatly despite the strain on her flesh. Her blue eyes would crawl all over the writhing figure there. The first time that she ever gained a cursed seal, she had been squirming in pleasure as she attempted to contain what little dignity that she had left at that point. So watching the opposite reaction was almost something that made her want to laugh, but she managed to hold it in. Was this her insanity bubbling forward? She was no insane woman, but seeing his pain and how it clawed all over his flesh... Well, let's just say that it really amused her in all the ways that it should not have. Releasing a cold breath from her lips, the wisp of a cloud would rise above their heads, illuminated by the flickering candle light. His words fell on nearly deaf ears. She didn't care if he thought that she had betrayed him. The only person that she had ever betrayed was Inu Endo, and even then, it was more that he had betrayed his entire village and their trust. Was death really that much of a betrayal though? She thought of it more as a rest. After all... At least he could converse with the people who also found themselves in hell. "You shouldn't speak. Pained words make a fool out of a man. Learn to love the pain. It's the only way that you will survive within a world of men who do not fear higher entities and women who will gladly behead their leader for threats." A thrush of wind would blow away any debris that would be located on the floor off into a corner. Broken glass, bloodied fabric, anything else that may have been there would be pushed off into an area that would be obscured to the human mind. The small wind that the young woman had risen would cause her hair to move all around her until she finally lifted her hands up to bind it back behind her head with a tie that she had somewhere on her person. Even the candle light had been blown out by the thrush of wind that blew through, and she would respond with nothing more than annoyed sigh.

Pacing over as the now maddened man would speak, she would relight the candle and she would soon look down at the bloodstained clothing that she wore and she shook her head. Placing her hands flat against her shoulders, she would allow her affinity to ice to work in swirls around her fingers and she would bring those fingers down to create a new outfit for herself of her un-meltable Haku ice. Though, there was something off about this ice... It seemed to be tainted black. Blacker than what she had anticipated rather than the gentle blue that she once wore. It must've been the thrall of the dark chakra that rushed through all of her systems that made her jutsu react in such a manner. How interesting, right? As the screaming began, she would turn on her newly created heels and she would give a small hiss. "You just stated that you would be a prisoner if you were to die..." She'd state, her fingers cracking a bit as she walked over. Placing her hand against Hira's mouth to muffle the sounds of his screams, she would soon freeze what looked like a muzzle there against his mouth as she watched him with eyes that had soon yellowed as a testament to the demonic essence she held within. "And I cannot have you alerting every shinobi in a mile radius like this. I hope you understand." As she pulled her hand away, he'd find that he was still able to breathe, but it seemed he had sort of a muzzle over his mouth that would prevent him from screaming his lungs out of place. "Not to mention, madness is really boring to watch when you've experienced it for so long." She would turn, her dress pulling along the ground as she looked around the room that reeked of mildew and other such disgusting unpleasant things. Where had he really managed to stumble across this place? Was he hiding out here for a while? It made no sense in the young woman's mind. After all... She didn't sit back and seek out the slums unless she was on the run, which she had been for that entire year. Still, though, she had no recollection of this place. At least her senses were slowly comin back to her. After all, she had nearly lost herself to the feeling of all of her blood leaking from her veins from those damned explosions. Placing a finger up towards her mouth, she would continue her thought process, her eyes fading between an odd mixture of yellow and blue. Not so demonic now... but she was still feeling something. It was hard to put her finger on.

"Are you done begging for death yet?"

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Man O To

The muffled screams of his voice fought through Haruka's fingertips for a time, but eventually they subsided. The only noise he made was that of shallow breath, which he took in with very little force. The air dragged through her fingers and into his mouth softly, as he fell limp for some time. His eyes were wide open, giving him the appearance of some one who had gone catatonic. Maybe he had?

Time stopped. Somewhere in the ether of his mind he was incarcerated, doused in black. It was not twilight, but midnight that had consumed him. He had entered something of a devil's hour, where nothing could penetrate the schism between self and self. Nothing outside of him was relevant here, because it bore no similarity in context. There never was a Haruka, nor was there a basement, nor a stone village or any other. There was only a void, stripped of all character and relativity. Abyssal depth, endlessly falling into eternity.

It was cold. Colder than the coldest nights of february, long before winter would break. The chill of frost entered his veins, driving its way inward like a homing missile full of nitrogen. And when it finally hit his heart, he began to melt. It was such a sweet sensation that it could be compared to nothing. He was dead.

Dead.

Before her, his eyes began to split open. The squared geometric patterns of the seal cracked down his skin, leaving him divided like a sheet of graph paper. He was glowing, and his eyes were lit with the flame of his Hakumei Byakugan. The symbol of his clan's prowess billowed fourth from his eyes, sending a blast of forceful energy through the entire building. Every little object in the room bounced an inch from its original place as he sat up from the chair. Staring at Haruka, he was revealed.

Yes.

He spoke, relaying exactly what he needed to through one word. Somewhere inside his mind, he felt like he imagined himself die. But it was not he that passed away. It was Nakamura Hira. That name was now the name of a ghost, one that had been banished to his certain oblivion. He had no place in the world any longer, and he existed only to hold Irotsuya back. Anything that held Irotsuya back served only to hold Haruka back.

Excuse him. He begged for death so I pardoned him to leave.

He looked at her, tilting his head downward. His body became relaxed, and slowly the marking dissipated slightly into his skin.

He is useless to us anyway, mostly.

Are you ready to leave now? Because I am.

[spoilername="Lyrics"]Sitting here, you and I, the courtyard breeze is cool

Two images, two forms, one thought, you and I

The orchard-shades, the songs of birds give up the world’s secrets

When we find ourselves here in this garden

The stars of distant galaxies come to gaze on us

You and I, together, we show them the moon

You and I, without ‘you’ and ‘I’, we are absolute joy

Happy, free from empty words, such are you and I

All those birds of paradise, full of childish envy

While in that same place, you and I, we cannot help but laugh

What’s truly strange is you and I, here together, now

At once here in the west and at once here in the east

such we always were

You and I[/spoilername]<i></i>​

 

[Haruka]

Soon, she would wipe her hand against her front. The dress that she had soon just created from the ice that she held a very distinct affinity in. The screaming would finally, finally stop. It gave her a chance to breathe. After all, the screaming horrified her. Had it not been but a few hours ago that she had suffered the screams of many of her men and women here within the village? It made her heart thump harshly in her chest. She couldn't take it. Not right now. She felt it more appropriate to behead a man right now than to listen to anguished screams. Perhaps she had made a mistake while agreeing to seal the man and give him more power than he could imagine... Ah, ah. Perhaps he had not been able to handle it? After all, he had quite the lithe body, even though he stood incredibly tall. What did the Hyuuga have to offer here to the very seal that threatened to envelope his entire life? The pull and tug of the stitches along her skin set her skin alight in pain, but she would continue watching the man as his eyes slowly slid open. Well, was that not for the better? She had thought he passed on. A small chuckle would pass her lips as he answered her rhetorical question and she would turn her back to him, pacing over to the door of the crypt that had almost become the home to the both of them today.

"Thank you. Let's leave to my previous home." She would comment, grabbing all of her items to place them back on her person. Kicking open the door with one icy heel, she would pace to the outside world. "Follow me. I'm sick of the dark and decay." She would comment, quietly leading him through the fray and the streets of the Stone Village.

[ Topic Left to go to another location, mmkay? A lot of stuff has happened between this thread and now. xD ]<i></i>

 

[Nakamura Hira]

He followed her up and out, feeling black as night. It was likely that he had never left that room. Some part of him was left behind, somewhere very far away. It felt like he had fallen into a hole, somewhere deep in the recesses of the earth. Stone Village had torn his insides out, and flayed them into scars deeper than he had even conceived. What was certain now was that, being a part of a village had its costs. The benefits of the collective, however, far outweighed its costs. He knew this to be true without feeling homesick. There was no going back, at least for now. Nakamura Hira was dead.

Irotsuya was the only thing that remained.

There was a certain tranquility in following Haruka. It felt almost as though it was destined to be--like he had been meant to encounter her all of this time. Like two pieces of the same color on a chess board, they were given their squares and allotted movements. The result of the game depended entirely on the motivations of its contenders, and what their real motives were comprised of was beyond fathoming. There were no questions worth asking, only actions worth doing.

I will follow you to my death, if you ask it of me.

He knew that she likely couldn't, but he said it anyway. He lived without fear of such things. Fear was what set Irotsuya and Hira apart. Trailing behind the fabric of her wares, he moved out of the building and into the alleys with her. The streets were soaked in brine, and the air was chilled quite damp. They took off in a discrete manner, vanishing into the evening with few traces left behind to find. Whoever would amble into that basement would likely have a few questions of their own.

[Topic Left]<i></i>​