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For the wonders we have seen. (private, plot) Sat Apr 14, 2018 4:38 am
Yōsei
S-rank
'Forget what you know, empty your mind.'
The Valley far west of the world, that surreal serendipitous place of Lost Things where the pair now traversed; how vast it was to behold the terror of desolation at the end of everything. Time meant nothing here, the day and night only blended into a single golden wreath across the horizon, with a sky of deep blue. The camp became a shanty town with population two, Hika and the Sealer both slowly working their way outwards from a central point, combing the sands for a lost kingslayer slumbering in the ruins. The spirals they had woven through the sand stretched out miles in all directions, so far apart they were unable to see one another as they walked. Yōsei's eyes, trailing blue with resonant chakra, scanned the unearthed ruins for any signs of the whimsical specter. In his heart, the Sealer knew his eyes would never find what he sought unless it chose to be seen.
At the end of the day, Yōsei would kneel in the dust and inscribe a symbol in the dirt, body transferring itself effortlessly between places, back to the firepit where his partner went about his own machinations. Sitting in the fire's warmth he meditated, leaving his body to float high above the valley and observe the flow of energies. Those who knew of this power could hide from it themselves, but it would take significant effort to obscure oneself from the very World. Were his skills more exceptional, he could reach further and surely locate what he wanted, but the target lay still, far out of reach. In the mortal realm beyond this valley, where time had meaning, Yōsei had plans of his own to attend to. He would assure his partner of his return before hands blurred in a string of hand seals and planted firmly against the sand, chakra causing it to flourish and then expand in a puff of smoke as the Namikaze vanished across the desert.
Familiar life force entered his conscious perception, the sensation of summoning caused a lapse in actual thought before his eyes opened on the dunes of Wind Country. From between his feet, a white snake crawled forth, the sacred Namikaze formula still prominent on its forehead. This beast was his vessel, a train through which he would map the desert and appear where it went at will. But this was not the only agent of his making, the Sealer had such gateways all across the desert to facilitate his operations. He took a package from beneath his cloak, unwrapping a ceremonial mask to cover what little showed of his face. The white ANBU mask was nothing of note, merely a replica of the visage worn long ago by an agent of death who had lived in the Land of Fire; the scowling Toad's mouth was once known in Konoha as a symbol of swift, brutal death. This mask would be the message to the woman he arrived here to meet, she would recognize this as a man long dead, returned to undo what he had wrought.
Suna had changed dramatically since he'd last walked through the outskirts of this buried skeleton. The slim crescent of moon barely illuminated the landscape, giving Yōsei the perfect cover to slip toward those few lanterns which still burned in the excavation sites surrounding the city. In seconds he crossed the plains, disturbing nothing as not to anger the rightful owner of this new land. He too was a soldier who believed in the right of conquest, the world serpent had devoured this land, swallowed it whole between her insatiable gullet and now it belonged to her; he was merely an intruder into this sacred new land.
Few worked into the night, but some shared the passion of their leader and still tirelessly gave of their flesh to haul rubble from the scorched ruins and rebuild a new home to house their legacies. It was almost ritualistic, the way each man strained to hoist impossible stones and fallen columns while the cracked masonry sliced deep into their flesh and the weight bearing down on muscles and bone threatening to snap them. The Sealer felt sorrow in the pit of his stomach, the knot of reason and a compulsion to free the men of their shackles, draw his Vow and slice his way to the dragon's lair to do what must be done. In another life, this young kingdom would lay in ruins beneath his feet, with its queen in pieces; standing atop the monument of bloodshed would be Yōsei, golden hair stained red and adorned in the regalia of his homeland. This was not that life, the world had planned things out for him in a new way. There would be no nightly slaughter for the collector of shadows; strictly, he was here on business.
Quickening towards him, the research facilities used by his target rose stark cubes against fluid dune horizon, but the masked man paid no mind. Flags hung either by order or devotion, dotted the path leading to the building. The rogue was a dying breed, the free blood of those not bound by rules ran thin, trickling into obscurity and threatening to fade. The Empress of this budding citadel already had attracted the ire of the Mist, a formidable nation which the Sealer knew intimately; they would view the incident in Kumo as a taunt and would settle for nothing less than blood, even if it meant hunting the woman where she slept. Yōsei arrived with a treaty, two weary trees growing in the desert would do well to share their secrets, soften the soil for one another's growth. With one bound, the Sealer caught purchase on the building's roof, black folds shimmering but nothing compared to the mask which turned back to face the desert beneath.
Yōsei brought his hands together in a flash, forming chakra internally and funneling it into the air around him by releasing his tenketsu. The combination heat and lightning would crackle into existence, rising upwards in a stream of wild chakra, unrefined but manifest and unleashed into the world. Whether the Dragon was here or not, the oncoming display of charged fury would alert the woman to his presence and call her to this lonely meeting place. A flash in the desert would illuminate the dunes, lightning striking the earth meters from the structure he stood atop. This was no jutsu, there was no chakra control at work here, merely an environmental application of the Sage Arts, distorting the natural flow of chakra would gather a dark cloud overhead and call forth signal flares of crackling lightning.
With the torch lit, Yōsei stood patiently on the edge of his perch, eyes watching the sands for a sign of movement. In truth, this gambit was something even he was unsure of, he'd barely known of the woman in his other life, but now he came to seek her out in the heart of her endeavors. What sacrilege had this land born witness to under the purifying fire that turned this vast nation into naught but dust and ghosts?
"How much longer will we hide in this desolate era?" Yōsei's voice was distant, speaking through the nature surrounding him, confident that she could hear him already.
"Do you know why I've come here?"
1248
The Valley far west of the world, that surreal serendipitous place of Lost Things where the pair now traversed; how vast it was to behold the terror of desolation at the end of everything. Time meant nothing here, the day and night only blended into a single golden wreath across the horizon, with a sky of deep blue. The camp became a shanty town with population two, Hika and the Sealer both slowly working their way outwards from a central point, combing the sands for a lost kingslayer slumbering in the ruins. The spirals they had woven through the sand stretched out miles in all directions, so far apart they were unable to see one another as they walked. Yōsei's eyes, trailing blue with resonant chakra, scanned the unearthed ruins for any signs of the whimsical specter. In his heart, the Sealer knew his eyes would never find what he sought unless it chose to be seen.
At the end of the day, Yōsei would kneel in the dust and inscribe a symbol in the dirt, body transferring itself effortlessly between places, back to the firepit where his partner went about his own machinations. Sitting in the fire's warmth he meditated, leaving his body to float high above the valley and observe the flow of energies. Those who knew of this power could hide from it themselves, but it would take significant effort to obscure oneself from the very World. Were his skills more exceptional, he could reach further and surely locate what he wanted, but the target lay still, far out of reach. In the mortal realm beyond this valley, where time had meaning, Yōsei had plans of his own to attend to. He would assure his partner of his return before hands blurred in a string of hand seals and planted firmly against the sand, chakra causing it to flourish and then expand in a puff of smoke as the Namikaze vanished across the desert.
Familiar life force entered his conscious perception, the sensation of summoning caused a lapse in actual thought before his eyes opened on the dunes of Wind Country. From between his feet, a white snake crawled forth, the sacred Namikaze formula still prominent on its forehead. This beast was his vessel, a train through which he would map the desert and appear where it went at will. But this was not the only agent of his making, the Sealer had such gateways all across the desert to facilitate his operations. He took a package from beneath his cloak, unwrapping a ceremonial mask to cover what little showed of his face. The white ANBU mask was nothing of note, merely a replica of the visage worn long ago by an agent of death who had lived in the Land of Fire; the scowling Toad's mouth was once known in Konoha as a symbol of swift, brutal death. This mask would be the message to the woman he arrived here to meet, she would recognize this as a man long dead, returned to undo what he had wrought.
Suna had changed dramatically since he'd last walked through the outskirts of this buried skeleton. The slim crescent of moon barely illuminated the landscape, giving Yōsei the perfect cover to slip toward those few lanterns which still burned in the excavation sites surrounding the city. In seconds he crossed the plains, disturbing nothing as not to anger the rightful owner of this new land. He too was a soldier who believed in the right of conquest, the world serpent had devoured this land, swallowed it whole between her insatiable gullet and now it belonged to her; he was merely an intruder into this sacred new land.
Few worked into the night, but some shared the passion of their leader and still tirelessly gave of their flesh to haul rubble from the scorched ruins and rebuild a new home to house their legacies. It was almost ritualistic, the way each man strained to hoist impossible stones and fallen columns while the cracked masonry sliced deep into their flesh and the weight bearing down on muscles and bone threatening to snap them. The Sealer felt sorrow in the pit of his stomach, the knot of reason and a compulsion to free the men of their shackles, draw his Vow and slice his way to the dragon's lair to do what must be done. In another life, this young kingdom would lay in ruins beneath his feet, with its queen in pieces; standing atop the monument of bloodshed would be Yōsei, golden hair stained red and adorned in the regalia of his homeland. This was not that life, the world had planned things out for him in a new way. There would be no nightly slaughter for the collector of shadows; strictly, he was here on business.
Quickening towards him, the research facilities used by his target rose stark cubes against fluid dune horizon, but the masked man paid no mind. Flags hung either by order or devotion, dotted the path leading to the building. The rogue was a dying breed, the free blood of those not bound by rules ran thin, trickling into obscurity and threatening to fade. The Empress of this budding citadel already had attracted the ire of the Mist, a formidable nation which the Sealer knew intimately; they would view the incident in Kumo as a taunt and would settle for nothing less than blood, even if it meant hunting the woman where she slept. Yōsei arrived with a treaty, two weary trees growing in the desert would do well to share their secrets, soften the soil for one another's growth. With one bound, the Sealer caught purchase on the building's roof, black folds shimmering but nothing compared to the mask which turned back to face the desert beneath.
Yōsei brought his hands together in a flash, forming chakra internally and funneling it into the air around him by releasing his tenketsu. The combination heat and lightning would crackle into existence, rising upwards in a stream of wild chakra, unrefined but manifest and unleashed into the world. Whether the Dragon was here or not, the oncoming display of charged fury would alert the woman to his presence and call her to this lonely meeting place. A flash in the desert would illuminate the dunes, lightning striking the earth meters from the structure he stood atop. This was no jutsu, there was no chakra control at work here, merely an environmental application of the Sage Arts, distorting the natural flow of chakra would gather a dark cloud overhead and call forth signal flares of crackling lightning.
With the torch lit, Yōsei stood patiently on the edge of his perch, eyes watching the sands for a sign of movement. In truth, this gambit was something even he was unsure of, he'd barely known of the woman in his other life, but now he came to seek her out in the heart of her endeavors. What sacrilege had this land born witness to under the purifying fire that turned this vast nation into naught but dust and ghosts?
"How much longer will we hide in this desolate era?" Yōsei's voice was distant, speaking through the nature surrounding him, confident that she could hear him already.
"Do you know why I've come here?"
1248
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 