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In Soma (inv) Tue May 01, 2018 7:02 am
Yōsei
S-rank
The moments after sunset were the time of day Yōsei most appreciated. When the heat just started to leave the sands, replaced in turn by fresh winds but not chilly enough to remind the Sealer of Naraka's icy grip. He closed his eyes, drawing breath in through his nose, deep enough to feel his chest expand, and then he exhaled slowly from his mouth. Even after months returned to the realm of the living, Yōsei treasured these small miracles. Each touch of soft wind against his skin, even through the folds of his cloak and thick white mask, made him delighted merely to live. Such a privilege of returning from death was not one to be taken lightly, and the Sealer paid his respects with each action, showing fate his gratitude for allowing him this life.
In the aftermath of the battle, Yōsei let Tenjin rest his weary body while approaching him slowly, spiraling around the perimeter on the lookout for anything sinister that may have been drawn by the earlier ruckus. He used this time to ponder the boy who lay in the sand, and his place in all of this. The concordance of fate was a strange thing; it brought these figures into one another's lives for a reason, much the same as it had bound Hika and him together. Though similar in theme, the events that led to this auspicious meeting were nothing like those which lay in wait for Yōsei's partner, but the boy here would provide a worthy ally. The Sealer would not easily mistake another shinobi, even barely sparing the lad a glance during the fight, Yōsei ascertained his formal training and polished fighting style. Somewhat of a late bloomer but a potential prodigy he was, and Yōsei scouted him with great interest. If the Nukenin could draft such young minds into his ranks, mold them into his way of thinking and one day have them become as he was: free and alive.
Yōsei made no secret of his approach, expended no effort to conceal his footsteps or shroud himself in chakra. If it had been his choosing, the master of stealth could have effortlessly ceased to be. In contrast, neither did he make his entrance with pomp or fanfare, for the Sealer who came to stand on the cusp of a dune's curve, looking down from across the dip in the sand, was a phantasm. The Nukenin stood for a moment, watching Tenjin whether he would still be laying on the ground or had gotten up by now. Eerie mask stared out from the thick folds of Yōsei's cloak, the shimmering gossamer tatters holding within them sheets of subtle color and the patterns of stars shifting with the thread. The Sealer embodied his namesake well; bewitching and surreal, the tall figure's humanoid features were consumed utterly by that living cloak writhing around his form and whipping off into the distance with every gust of wind.
"You have fought well enough."
It would likely take the boy some time to get used to Yōsei's method of speech; the spiritual way that the world itself lent gravity to his words. Instead of from his mouth, or even the direction of his otherworldly visage, the words came from the gusts of wind and kicked up dust, they carried through the clouds and spelled themselves out in connections between the stars. Such affinity with nature came only from a lifetime dedicated to spiritual refinement; a rare gift was one so beloved by the world.
"The desert is unforgiving. Whatever you seek in this desecrated Holy Land lies now in ruins. Turn back, short-lived shinobi, return to the time before all this. I have watched your kind venture here in search of salvation, of power, of vengeance, and of mere curiosity. Inevitably, those few pilgrims who survive the life you have chosen come to rest here. Do you understand now where you have journeyed? This land is a lost place at the end of all things, filled with monsters and ghosts. Those who come here seek only to slip quietly from existence. If this is your wish, to be laid down into the sand, returned to the dust of this desert, then forge a contract with me and I will strike you down with mercy."
The boy would never entertain such an accord, Yōsei knew this to be true. A shinobi would never willingly accept death until they had reached the pinnacle of power. Within the boy who was before him, the Sealer saw the ambition of growing power not yet ready but on the cusp of real strength, not merely unwilling but utterly incapable of accepting less. The drive to be great caused men throughout the centuries to step over one another in the pursuit toward that mountaintop. Few came to be there but before Tenjin was one such survivor; no longer called Shinobi for he was not but a man who had lived long enough to accumulate secrets which held power beyond that of any jutsu. More accurately he may have been thought of as a Sage, one who had attained such vast wisdom that even while performing the ninja arts, he somehow transcended them. Whatever he was, it was irrelevant now. Yōsei studied Tenjin, watching his movements carefully, taking in the body language and whenever he would reply, the Sealer would pay particular attention to how he spoke. The Nukenin sought to pick out any hesitation in this young ninja, the slightest tremble or stutter would give away any of his latent insecurities, Masked and cloaked as the other shinobi was, mirroring Yōsei in some ways, he would not be able to hide anything from the Sealer's perception.
"Tell me, what do you seek?"
980
In the aftermath of the battle, Yōsei let Tenjin rest his weary body while approaching him slowly, spiraling around the perimeter on the lookout for anything sinister that may have been drawn by the earlier ruckus. He used this time to ponder the boy who lay in the sand, and his place in all of this. The concordance of fate was a strange thing; it brought these figures into one another's lives for a reason, much the same as it had bound Hika and him together. Though similar in theme, the events that led to this auspicious meeting were nothing like those which lay in wait for Yōsei's partner, but the boy here would provide a worthy ally. The Sealer would not easily mistake another shinobi, even barely sparing the lad a glance during the fight, Yōsei ascertained his formal training and polished fighting style. Somewhat of a late bloomer but a potential prodigy he was, and Yōsei scouted him with great interest. If the Nukenin could draft such young minds into his ranks, mold them into his way of thinking and one day have them become as he was: free and alive.
Yōsei made no secret of his approach, expended no effort to conceal his footsteps or shroud himself in chakra. If it had been his choosing, the master of stealth could have effortlessly ceased to be. In contrast, neither did he make his entrance with pomp or fanfare, for the Sealer who came to stand on the cusp of a dune's curve, looking down from across the dip in the sand, was a phantasm. The Nukenin stood for a moment, watching Tenjin whether he would still be laying on the ground or had gotten up by now. Eerie mask stared out from the thick folds of Yōsei's cloak, the shimmering gossamer tatters holding within them sheets of subtle color and the patterns of stars shifting with the thread. The Sealer embodied his namesake well; bewitching and surreal, the tall figure's humanoid features were consumed utterly by that living cloak writhing around his form and whipping off into the distance with every gust of wind.
"You have fought well enough."
It would likely take the boy some time to get used to Yōsei's method of speech; the spiritual way that the world itself lent gravity to his words. Instead of from his mouth, or even the direction of his otherworldly visage, the words came from the gusts of wind and kicked up dust, they carried through the clouds and spelled themselves out in connections between the stars. Such affinity with nature came only from a lifetime dedicated to spiritual refinement; a rare gift was one so beloved by the world.
"The desert is unforgiving. Whatever you seek in this desecrated Holy Land lies now in ruins. Turn back, short-lived shinobi, return to the time before all this. I have watched your kind venture here in search of salvation, of power, of vengeance, and of mere curiosity. Inevitably, those few pilgrims who survive the life you have chosen come to rest here. Do you understand now where you have journeyed? This land is a lost place at the end of all things, filled with monsters and ghosts. Those who come here seek only to slip quietly from existence. If this is your wish, to be laid down into the sand, returned to the dust of this desert, then forge a contract with me and I will strike you down with mercy."
The boy would never entertain such an accord, Yōsei knew this to be true. A shinobi would never willingly accept death until they had reached the pinnacle of power. Within the boy who was before him, the Sealer saw the ambition of growing power not yet ready but on the cusp of real strength, not merely unwilling but utterly incapable of accepting less. The drive to be great caused men throughout the centuries to step over one another in the pursuit toward that mountaintop. Few came to be there but before Tenjin was one such survivor; no longer called Shinobi for he was not but a man who had lived long enough to accumulate secrets which held power beyond that of any jutsu. More accurately he may have been thought of as a Sage, one who had attained such vast wisdom that even while performing the ninja arts, he somehow transcended them. Whatever he was, it was irrelevant now. Yōsei studied Tenjin, watching his movements carefully, taking in the body language and whenever he would reply, the Sealer would pay particular attention to how he spoke. The Nukenin sought to pick out any hesitation in this young ninja, the slightest tremble or stutter would give away any of his latent insecurities, Masked and cloaked as the other shinobi was, mirroring Yōsei in some ways, he would not be able to hide anything from the Sealer's perception.
"Tell me, what do you seek?"
980
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 