Cutting Ties [Sannin Test/Mission]
Apr 13, 2020 11:11:41 GMT -7
Post by An'ei Sekitan on Apr 13, 2020 11:11:41 GMT -7
Yomazu, the City of Cold Night. It was aptly named such, the biting wind punching through cloth or leather easily, wool barely standing a chance against the overwhelming cut of it. The night however was clear, a bright crescent moon casting cold pale light on the darkened homes down below, the midnight hour at hand. A time for dark business. The stars winked at him knowingly while the moon watched, impassive, uncaring about the happenings in the mortal realm. Sekitan watched her for a moment as well, his glowing emerald green eyes intent on the moon for a moment, pondering what might be hiding up there that he did not yet know about. The hunger for knowledge was never sated within him, the ever-present gnawing that drove him to learn, to seek. Tonight, he would seek a different knowledge, the kind only gained by taking a life. His long silver hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, much like his eyes, but his black trench coat, pants and boots ate any light that attempted to caress him.
Sekitan held a picture before him of an elderly man, white hair cascading like a waterfall to his shoulders and down his back, a beard and mustache of the same, kept neat and showing a high level of discipline. The man had been a soldier it had been said, a samurai of some renown. Doto Sosetsu, the brother of Doto Kazehana, and one of the old Council that had fled the country, all but Sosetsu. According to the Kage, the man would be waiting down below in his home, wishing for death to come on swift wings from the guilt. A man with honor remaining, but too much cowardice to commit seppuku in the tradition of the samurai. Sekitan eyed that home now from atop his perk, a four story building with a clock facing each cardinal direction, displaying the time for any that happened to look; the bell toll was disabled during the dark hours to allow people a full nights rest. It was 0113 in the middle of the night, clouds shrouded by darkness moved lazily in the sky, causing stars to vanish and reappear, eerily resting against the moon it seemed. It was a good night for death and redemption through blood.
Emerald eyes peered through the darkness at the home, watching the movement of a single man within, a silhouette with long cascading hair who sat within his rooms with a single candle lit so that he would be visible. This was the man’s routine each night, sleeping during the day, waiting for someone to come and end his life. Waiting for An’ei Sekitan. His home was like every other, although larger, containing three stories, instead of only a single or two. Shingles on the rooftop made of red clay and curved, allowing no purchase for the snows of Yuki no Kuni, except on a small flat path in the center of the slopes. Only two windows on the upper most floor, circular with shutters and wooden bars in square patterns, signifying that it was an attic. Both floors below that had large windows, two on each side, square but with floral patterned shutters. No bars. A balcony on the east side of the building, so one could watch the sun rise in the morning if he so desired, a sliding door of tradition make, wax paper and wood.
Time: 0114
Black boots lightly graced the wooden deck of the second-floor balcony, making no sound upon the snow that rested there from the day, only a small swirl of powder rising. Two chairs of wood on the deck, designs of cherry blossoms engraved up the sides and the petals on the arms, elaborate and elegant in their simplicity. A single wooden table in the center, small, enough for setting drinks upon or possibly even a small laptop. The man still did not move, but he was certainly facing the door, that much was certain. A black gloved hand slid the door aside, emerald eyes falling upon the man, sharp blue eyes meeting his gaze in a face that could only be described as old and tired. The scar of a war hard fought in the past still stood prominent upon the man’s face, the scar Sekitan had given the man, blinding his left eye during the one-man rebellion where Sekitan had seized power nearly thirty years ago.
These two men, Sosetsu and Sekitan, they were near the same age, only a mere seven years separated them, yet Sekitan looked nearly twenty-five years younger: a result of the Evolution. Sosetsu looked upon Sekitan as if he saw a ghost, taking in the youth of his assassin, surprise clear in his eyes. A rich melodious voice escaped his lips, “You look the same as you did that day. Are you his son come to finish the job of Sekitan, your father?” A smile came to Sekitan’s lips at this, causing the elderly man to shift uncomfortably, it was a predatory smile filled with satisfaction. “Not quite,” the deep baritone of Sekitan’s voice was a low rumble, “there have been a few…changes…to my body. I am still the man who gave you that scar the day you attempted to stop my assault thirty years ago, Sosetsu. I noticed you can see out of your left eye again.”
The older man chuckled, his left hand coming up to touch the old war wound that Sekitan had given him, tracing it from forehead down his cheek. His memory was as clear as that scar it seemed, then those sharp blue eyes came back to Sekitan, cold as the ice and snow upon the cobbled streets outside this very home. A katana lay across the man’s lap, the sheathe still upon the blade, worked with vines and ivy leaves. There was a warrior’s kimono upon his body, not the one used for his station, this one dark brown with down turned white spades on either breast, standing open to show his still muscled chest. It would Sosetsu had not let his swordsmanship fall by the wayside like the others had when he took office. “So then, An’ei Sekitan, Lord Third of Yukigakure no Sato, Reaper of Shadows,” he began, his voice now hard and cold, the voice of a warrior prepared to face death in the glory of battle, “you now have graced my home with the shadow of death. I have been waiting ever since that pup took office and we abandoned her, fleeing after the catastrophe that was the resurrection of Ace Debutler Onta, even though we brought her in as a puppet Kage. These are things you know. But you have come, and I know what comes of seeing you when the time of violence has come. I still bear it.”
The old man shook his head, long hair barely displaced, only a single thick strand falling over his shoulder, white like the snow. “We will see what fate has in store for you, Sosetsu,” Sekitan began, removing his trench coat and setting it upon a peg, a coat rack close to the door for any that would come calling it seemed. He was well prepared. Sake sat on a small work desk to the right of Sekitan, two cups and a single bottle, and Sekitan moved across the room, lifting the tray in one hand and the chair in another, bringing them both before himself and the man. Seating himself, Sosetsu still on the edge of his own bed, the Jounin poured them both a cup, handing one to the man and keeping the other. He did not fear there would be poison, Sosetsu was a warrior of honor and would not stoop to such methods.
Simultaneously, they raised the sake to their lips, two old warriors sharing a drink before one final fight. It was a companionable silence, shared by the two, neither had been friends and had only once been enemies. Back then Sosetsu had been swift with the blade and his tongue, a man of quick wit and skill, but now he had been tempered with age and honed. Sekitan could see that, much like himself, the battle rage of the young had finally burnt to cinder, giving way to the wisdom of those who lived through such. The sake was made from the snowberry, a favorite of Sekitan, a hard brew to create. He had never known that Sosetsu was a man of such refined taste. A genuine smile touched his lips, a smile that had long been unused, and Sosetsu grunted in satisfaction. “We seem to have some similarities after all,” began the once Council member, “but where is that massive blade that you used to carry with you?”
The smile remained on Sekitan’s lips as he looked toward his drinking companion. “I no longer need it,” Sekitan replied, amusement in his voice, “It seems the changes in my body also cured me of the strange bone disease that I previously faced.” Sosetsu knew exactly what that meant. Those alive during the reign of Sekitan had seen or heard of the deeds that the Lord Third had performed, decimating Konohagakure no Sato single handedly with bone, annihilating their tower and ruining their village. They had heard about the destruction in the lands of Ame, Hi, Kaze, Iwa, and Kaminari. Even in Kusa. The feared bloodline of the Kaguya, the only thing that had kept them in line was that disease. Fear began to blossom in his chest, but Sosetsu quickly extinguished it. “I see. Such a fearful warrior now, I can see why Kahimi has sent you after us.” They both downed the last of the sake in their cups, placing them on the tray in unison, almost as if it was rehearsed. “Would you like to do this here or would you like to step outside,” Sekitan asked, his hand gesturing toward the balcony and clearly meaning the street below, “I would hate to damage this home of yours, but I will if you wish it.”
A shake of the head was all Sosetsu offered before standing, making his way passed Sekitan without fear of a blade in the back, stepping through the still open door to the balcony. With a finally look back, he leaped down from the second story to the street below, the crunch of snow signaling that he had reached the bottom. Sekitan stood as well, placing the tray on the bed, then turned and stepped out onto the balcony to look down at the man below. Sosetsu had moved ten meters from the balcony and off to the right, up the street, closer to the clock tower that was only twenty more meters away. It was a wide street, big enough for two carriages coming one way to pass two going the other way, which left a lot of room for what was to come. Sekitan leaped down from the balcony as well, landing so lightly the snow did not even stir, and the height difference was clear. Sekitan stood six inches taller than Sosetsu, but the man had a back of iron, keeping him upright despite the age.
Time: 0146
They watched each other from a ten-meter distance, the katana now through the sash that kept Sosetsu’s battle kimono, Sekitan without a blade still. Finally, a bone began to form after they studied each other for a moment, growing from his forearm, the hilt of a blade it seemed gleaming white gray in the moonlight. Sekitan pulled that hilt from his flesh, a trickle of blood running down his forearm and fingers, dripping upon the snow and steaming from the sudden cold that hit the warm blood. Still the blade continued to be drawn, pulled free of the flesh inch by painful inch, until a nearly six inch slender blade resembling a nodachi without crossguard was held in Sekitan’s left. The wound closed immediately, steaming with the cold, the flesh and bone knitting and regrowing instantly. The fear was pushed down by Sosetsu, replaced with a grim determination, as well as an acceptance in his eyes that this night was the night of his death.
The clouds were growing denser now, the moonlight fading from the sky, dimming the bright night and lengthening the shadows. The click of a blade from katana echoed up the alleyways it seemed, it gleamed silver even in this darkness, and a light seemed to come from those cold blue eyes as Sosetsu watched Sekitan. The man was dangerous, like a wolf barely tamed. Glowing emerald eyes watched the warrior as well, colder than the frozen earth, the eyes of a man that brought death. Soon the killing would begin, two old wolves challenging life itself, fangs bared and ready to taste blood.
