The first squad meeting had been a disaster, or at least that was Zaylee’s opinion. She didn’t blame this on her teammates however, but rather on herself. There had been many “I knew better” situations that come up, causing Zaylee to act against her better judgement, thus making foolish mistakes that could have cost lives had the situation been a real life one. She had left that squad meeting without a word, beyond accepting the criticism directed towards her, and had headed home, locking herself in the room for the remainder of the night and not coming down to dinner. She was angry at no one beyond herself, but there was more than just the failed experience that had her emotions for a loop. Her dreams, which had started out as vague and ones she couldn’t remember too well, that were random in their occurrence, had become more and more detailed and were now happening almost every night. To make matters worse though she was beginning to hear the same voice in her dream in her head during the way, whether she was awake or tired, busy or relaxing.

She had meant to say something to her father about it, as well as her mother Amaya, but the opportunity had been passed by when the squad meeting had gone south. Of course, Amaya reading her the riot act upon hearing what she had done, how she had put herself into a dangerous situation for another she barely knew, had only further caused her to shut down and shut up about it. Even though Amaya hadn’t yelled or cursed, shouted or gotten in her face, she could still tell that the woman was angry with her, and in a way it had broken her heart.

This had of course had a reaction on the ten year old little girl: she had taken to shutting herself in her bedroom when she was home, skipping out on meals or otherwise going down later to eat when everyone had finished. She had thrown herself into research, not about her own skills and abilities, but rather about this weird temple she visited every night in her dreams that led to an ancient tomb with mummified looking bodies. At first she had thought it was just an scenario that her brain had cooked up, but the more information and images she found the more she began to realize that this was in fact a real place - though she had no idea why it was this she was dreaming about. There wasn’t a lot of information she could find on the place either: an entire two century time period that had been erased from all records she was able to get her hands on. It didn’t make sense, and it made her wonder if something had happened that people were attempting to cover up. If anything it intrigued her curiosity further.

Glancing up from the old and weathered book she was reading, a picture of this particular temple she was dreaming about on the top of the page, she looked over to the clock and saw that it was seven in the evening: she had once again skipped dinner, making this the third night in a row. With a soft sigh she found herself leaning back in her chair, bringing her knees up to her chest and simply staring at the image of the temple as she wrapped her arms around her legs: she was still in her pajamas, having never got dressed or really left her room all day. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t scared about this dream, but she was more scared about the voices she was now hearing in her head - or rather one voice, a voice that sort of talked to her like a parent would talk to a child. She had heard stories of what happened to people who heard voices, they got locked up and the key thrown away. The were considered damaged, broken, dangerous. It was perhaps this that scared her more than the dreams itself. What would happen if she told someone? Even her twin, for as open as she was with Mamoru, had not yet been told about the voices that she was hearing: it was something she kept completely and entirely to herself, and the stress from the secret and the fear behind it was beginning to take its toll.

Feeling her stomach growl she glanced over to her bedroom door which was currently closed, contemplating going downstairs and grabbing some leftovers. But she couldn’t at the moment pretend she wasn’t scared of herself, of the voice in her head, and therefore she wouldn’t be able to hide that something was wrong. Instead of getting up and going to the door and downstairs to get food she instead ignored her growling stomach as she rose to her feet and made her way over to her bed, laying down without bothering to cover up, returning to the same fetal-like position she had been in before in the chair, only this time laying on her left side and facing the wall.

---

855

Although there was a lot of things Daremo could be thinking about while sitting at the curved desk within his study room, surrounded by various medical books, his thoughts where on his newly formed squad, and his daughter. Some days have passed since the first squad meeting that apparently left Zaylee in a bad mood of sorts. A mind reader he was not, but, he had a pretty idea why his daughter have been locking herself in her room, only coming out to eat when everyone else had retired to their quarters. If he would have guessed, the outcome of the first meeting, and his criticism given to all of the squad members left a bad taste in her mouth. Did she really think she would not receive criticism from her father? If anything, because she was his daughter, his standards for her were higher than the others.

He expected her to handle the situation better. And while she did show the qualities of a budding leader during the mock mission, she still had room for improvement. She needed to learn how to accept criticism for what it was, and, instead of locking herself in the room, avoiding her family who was worried about her, needed to talk to them on what she can approve on. Both him and Amaya had been around the occupation long enough to know how to effectively lead squads, and take criticism from others without completely shutting down. He was expecting much from his daughter, he knew that, but, he is in the belief that she could handle it.

“Although, maybe it is not the squad thing that is bothering her.” He mused to himself, thinking back to what he had found Zaylee researching when he had, in a moment of boredom and curiosity, followed her to the library. He had expected her to check out books that would help her improve her skills, or talk about leadership qualities, so, imagine his surprise when she picked up books regarding old temples and ruins. Curiosity piqued, he had went to the same section of the library she was in, and looked through the books that seemingly had her attention. Tombs? Ruins? Temples? What in the earth was Zaylee looking into such things?

“Nothing good can come from looking into this.”, he mused, looking at a rather old, weather book that he had obtained during the trip to the library. The book in question details notes on the varying temples and shrines that used to litter across Lightning Country at one point, with them being used for a place of worship and reverence. Though, as to what the people in the past used to worship, many historians did not know. For none there had been nothing found to indicate who they praise, only broken symbols that many could not decipher.

His concern with what these people used to worship. Supernatural forces was not to be trifled with. That was a fact he knew very well from his few encounters with them, and from his own studying of the goetia books. Said books having been a gift to him from an old acquaintances of a snake, who has long since disappeared. He sincerely hope his daughter was not researching stuff about demonic creatures. For once the connection been made, it is hard to shake off. Still though, as he looked at the pages in the book, something felt off about the whole thing, and for the life of him he could not figure out what.

“But, pretender, you do know. .“ Ignoring the voice within his head, Daremo closed up the book he had been reading, and left his study. Walking into the kitchen, he went towards the refrigerator, grabbing the plate of food, that was still warm due to the seals placed on the container, and made his way towards Zaylee room. Knocking on the door three times, and paused, “Zaylee, it is me, Daddy. I noticed you haven’t ate yet, so I brought your food to you.” he spoke, pausing briefly to father his thoughts. “Can I come in? I want to talk to you about something important.”, he said.

---

693

As she laid there on her bed, facing the wall, and with her knees drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them she couldn’t help but listen to the sounds of the house as her mind raced with the information she had been gathering. She had been hoping that her dreams meant nothing at all, that the voice in her head was something simple medication could take care of. Oh, she knew that hearing voices was a sure fire way to end ones career well before it started simply because she would be considered unstable, looked at as less than her comrades by the majority of society and the higher ups whose opinions mattered on such things. But, there would have at least been perhaps not a cure, but at least treatment. Perhaps she could have taken up sewing like her brother Mamoru did in his freetime, and even open up a kimono shop once she got good at it: she was terrible right now when it came to the task, but with enough practice perhaps she could have overcome this. Yet, her dreams and the new voice in her head weren’t that simple.

When she had begun looking for information pertaining to the tomb she kept seeing in her dreams, while also searching for any information she could glean about the new voice in her head, she had been horrified to find her discoveries to be cemented. The place she was dreaming about existed, or had as of nearly several hundred years ago. In her dreams the place hadn’t been laying in ruins, but had been the beautiful and exquisite buildings and passageways she saw when slumbering. The fact that she saw such things, that she knew what the place would have looked like centuries past, and that this visions in her head were accurate frightened her. Yet, there was a draw to go and see what she could find for herself there nonetheless.

A sudden knock on her door caused her to jump, pulled from her thoughts so suddenly and realizing she hadn’t even heard footsteps approaching because she had been in such deep thought. Hearing her father’s voice on the other side of the closed door she couldn’t help but briefly wonder if there was more going on at the moment than him just being worried about her eating. Yet, that curiosity was fulfilled as he mentioned having something important to talk to her about. She could only assume that her behavior since the first squad meeting might have made it look like she hadn’t handled the criticism well, or perhaps the whole thing, when in reality her mood and self-isolation had absolutely nothing to do with it at all. “Come on in.”, she would call out, loud enough for her voice to be heard through the wooden door, as she slowly sat up on her bed, shifting her legs to an indian style position as she pushed her silvery-white hair out of her face.

Her citrine gaze would remain upon the door, watching as it opened if her father did so, before shifting onto him and the plate of food. Her stomach immediately roared in protest of being empty at the sight and smell of something so deliciously mouth-watering as the food upon the plate, and she reached for it automatically should her father have gone to hand it to her. Yet, instead of diving into the food that she obviously was hungry for, her gaze would shift from the plate she placed nearby her on the bed and back onto her father. “There’s something important I need to talk to you about, too.”, she would say simply. She knew she had to say something, anything, about what was going on and what better person to do that for than her father? He had understood very well about the beastly voice within her head, so hopefully this too would be something he could understand. If nothing else she knew he wouldn’t judge her harshly on it. Truthfully, it was a conversation overdue since the day of the squad meeting, yet in her melancholy she had not allowed herself to say a word. Her mind had coughed up any number of things, including the fact that this new voice could make her potentially dangerous towards her family, and so locking herself away had been in her opinion best. But now, with all of the pieces that had fallen into place, she knew this was more than just some medical condition causing another voice to sprout up in her head, and she knew she needed help.

---

771 | 1,626

With food in hand, Daremo waited patiently for Zaylee to give him permission to enter. He did not bother in entering her room without permission, and while he could very well do that, he respected his children needs to have their own space for time to time. By showing respect to their privacy, he was saying that he trusted them, and that he hoped his trust was not misplaced. As of yet, neither Zaylee nor Mamoru had made him regret his stance in parenting. Both of his children was well off kids that were budding into beautiful individuals, and he could not ask for anything more.

Saying that, Daremo, nor Amaya, was blind to see there was something wrong their daughter. Ignoring the squad incident, something Zaylee would have easily been able to bounce back from due to the everything they put her through, she had been avoided them entirely. Rarely did him, Amaya, or Mamoru, see Zaylee as much as lately. Days when they spend family nights together was not the same without Zaylee being amongst them. Outings that they usually did together as a family felt weird with their daughter, and Mamoru’s sister, not being with them. She had become a ghost to the family, with them only catching glimpses of her whenever she thought all of them had retired to their rooms. Due to her absences, it has caused Daremo, along with Amaya and Mamoru to worry.

Though for Daremo, after finding out what she had been searching for, the aforementioned feelings was only compounded. What was his daughter getting into? Why was she searching for information forgotten temples and tombs, looking into begone era? He wanted to find out, and, if possible, help her somehow. Having been giving permission to enter, Daremo did just take, reaching out, grabbing the doorknob and turned it, and pushed open the door.

Citrine eyes met the mirror pair belonging to his daughter, who was sitting up in the bed. Although nothing about her appearance suggested anything was wrong, her actions in the recent days told him otherwise. Walking into the room, shutting the door behind him, he walked towards her, “Someone’s hungry.”, he spoke, having heard her stomach growled, and noted when her eyes landed on the plate of food. It would seem that she once again did not eat anything. He wonder would she have waited until everyone was retired to their quarters to eat, like she had been doing, if he did not bring her the food himself?

Extending the plate of food to her, and once she had grabbed it, Daremo turned a chair towards her, and sat in it. “Why aren’t you eating?”, he asked, having noticed she had yet to dive into the food despite obviously being hungry. Though while the question regarded the aforementioned, it always was him asking why she hasn’t been eating, even though he knew she has been when they retire to their room. He did not show surprise when Zaylee mentioned having something important to talk to him about, “Oh? Does it has to do with the first Squad meeting?”, he asked. Instead of getting to the heart of the matter, he began speaking on the squad meeting, “For this being your first time working with genins, you did an excellent job. Could it be better? Yes, but, that will come with time and experience as a leader, and also being a squad member. You will learn and adapt accordingly. It is fine to feel disappointed and angry at yourself for what happened, but, learn from the mistakes, and find ways to fix them. Try to work with your squad mates, and if they refuse to? Then, they are not worth saving, or helping for that matter.” The words were somewhat harsh, specifically when it came to her teammates, but, Daremo was not the one to put up with deadweight who refuse to learn and approve. If the other two squad members did not improve and adapted, well, they were worthless.

Having said that, Daremo reached towards a book on her desk, flipping through the old weathered pages, “Mind telling me why you have the sudden interest in old and forgotten ruins and temples? You do know many have a connection to the supernatural world, and that is something one should not trifle with carelessly. So, what about them got you interested in them so much?” he asked, wanting to get to the heart of the matter.

---

747[1440]

As her father took a seat and questioned why she wasn’t eating she briefly turned her attention back to the plate of food and the eating utensils. Picking up the plate she placed it on her lap, grabbing a bite of food and bringing it to her lips, where it was chewed and swallowed: a process that was repeated as she listened to her father speak on the matter of the first squad meeting. She listened as he spoke of how for that being her first squad meeting she had done and excellent job, and while it could have been better - something she agreed with - he went on to explain that that would change with experience. He spoke of while it was fine to be upset that it had gone badly, to use it as a building block to continue learning. Then, in her father’s typical blunt fashion, he mentioned trying to work with her squad mates, and if they refused to then that simply meant that they were not worth helping or saving. It was strange, his words matched almost perfectly to the talk Amaya had given her that day when she got home and the older woman had found out what had happened. She had expected Amaya to get angry because Zaylee had done the exact opposite of what Amaya had instructed her to do: she had put her neck on the line to save someone who had been brash and careless about putting themselves into danger. Yet, Amaya hadn’t done that, she hadn’t got angry, or even raised her voice, she had simply said words that were much along the same path as the ones her father was speaking now.

Already a quarter of the way through her food because of how hungry she was she would pause after taking a bite and glance over to the book her father was flipping through as she listened to him question her sudden interest changes, as well as mentioning the dangers in looking too deeply into things such as this. Placing her plate off to the side as her appetite left her in face of the thoughts within her mind and her reasonings for not only her new interest in such old tombs and temples but also the things that had started it, she picked at a thread of her bedspread, staring down at it instead of looking at her father. “For a few weeks now I’ve been having dreams of old places - temples and tombs. At first it was only every few days, but then it became an every night kind of thing. I didn’t know what it meant, I didn’t know why it was happening. I didn’t think these places I was dreaming about were even real. Then, on a hunch one day I started looking into them and found that the places I was seeing were real. But I wasn’t seeing them as they are now, I was seeing them as they were back in the day: centuries ago. Fully built, functioning, full of people. When I started looking through things I realized I knew other things too - like what some of the symbols represented, even though there aren’t any records I’ve been able to find to confirm them: most don’t understand or can’t even fathom how to put some of the older symbols back together.”

Looking up at her father a single tear rolled down her cheek as she reached over and placed her hand upon the wall, activating the seals hidden beneath the drapery and posters that covered almost every inch of her wall, ensuring that the next words she spoke would not leave the room by means of eavesdropping., “Then, the morning of the squad meeting… I started hearing a new voice in my head. Not the beast, something stronger, scarier really. He’s been telling me things… he told me our neighbor would die three days after the squad meeting, and then she did. He tells me other things too: things about you… and Pestilence. He calls himself Death, and tells me that when I’m ready I will replace him.” Another tear would stream down her cheek which she wiped away as if annoyed by the idea that she was crying. “He told me… about my god-momma too. He told me it wasn’t her old sickness that took her, that Pestilence made her that way, on purpose. That Pestilence broke Death’s design and claimed her earlier than she should have been.”

Stopping there she eyed her food, but there was no longer any urge to eat - her appetite had been lost. “I was going to tell you that morning… but then there wasn’t time, and everything went so badly….”, she muttered softly. The burden on Zaylee’s shoulders had always been heavy, though some of this was of her own doing as she pursued things that others wouldn’t have wanted involved in - such as the rebellion. Yet now, that weight felt agonizingly heavy. The knowledge she now had brought a kind of oppressive weight to it. “I know what happens to people to hear voices: they get locked away..”

---

854 | 2,480

A smile tugged on the corner of his lips at the sight of his daughter eating. Although he did not voiced them to Marici, there was some hidden concerns that Zaylee had developed an eating disorder, caring more about her appearance then what her body actually needed. As outlandish as it might sound, Daremo have seen how some kunoichi foolishly started dieting for whatever reasons, usually for a boy, and he hoped that was not the case with his daughter. If it was, well, the boy would not be alive for much longer. Alas, it seem like he did not have to kill someone any time soon, as he watched Zaylee finish off a quarter of her plate. The sight of her eating washing away the hidden concerns that he might have, yet, he wonder what was bothering her?

Flipping through the book, ctrine eyes looked over the contents of it. The book speaking on different tombs and temples that had been forgotten by the sands of time. Places that were thought to only be the centerpiece of fairy tales, and outlandish adventures of heroes of the old were written about in surprisingly vivid detail within the book. Crude hand drawn images of different portions of these temples and tombs, showing points of interests was sporadic throughout the book. Words in a language long forgotten made him curious on what was trying to be said. What warning or message was the scriptor of the words trying to convey to those who found the tomb? The further he looked through the book, he found his interest pique.

Glancing up from the written text, Daremo listened to the words Zaylee spoken. For weeks now she had dreams of the temples and tombs that were described in the book, but, unlike the pictures and descriptors that talk about ruin temples and tombs, those in her dreams were completely restored. They were fully functional in every sense of the word. Furthermore, the dreams showed her stuff that none of the books mentioned, knowing the meaning behind some of the symbols within the book, even though there was no known cipher for them. This whole situation was worrisome for Daremo, “Sounds like you were getting visions, or, something, or someone, has been trying to tell you something.”, he responded.

Daremo’s eyes soften at the sight of the tear rolling down his daughter’s cheek. He could not stand to see her like this. Whatever was going on was causing her pain, and, as a father, he wanted nothing more than to help her through it. Getting up from the chair, he moved over to Zaylee, even as she activated the silence seals placed around the home, and wrapped his arms around her in a comforting manner. Another voice had made itself known with her head, something stronger and scarier than the normal one. The voice spoke of things that no one should know nor foreseen. It spoke things regarding him, and Pestilence. It announced itself as Death, and told her that she will be it’s replacement soon. Daremo frowned at the words spoken, and began to rub Zaylee’s back in a comforting manner. Even if he could not see her face, he knew tears were flowing from her eyes.

The thing that was calling itself Death also spoke on the manner of Kaia-mai’s death. Her death having come early because of Pestilence’s. The comment made he curious on the words. What did it mean that Pestilence’s broke Death’s design? ”I don’t take kindly to those who mettle in my domain.”, the words spoken were ancient, and powerful. It shook Daremo to the core, yet, he knew only he could hear them. He knew the voice that was speaking to him was Pestilence. The entity had somehow established a connection with him sometime doing his Senjutsu training, though, only made contact with him recently.

Dismissing the thoughts for now, Daremo focused back onto Zaylee, listening to her words. She had been scared to mention this to him because she knew what happens to people who hear voices in their heads. He was not going to allow such a thing to happen to his daughter, “You do not need to worry, Zaylee. You aren’t the only one who have been dealing with an additional voices in your head. Pestilence, or what I assumed it such from its earlier statement, has been making its presence known within my own. In fact he confirmed that it was his doing when it came to Kaia-mai’s death, though, the fault of that lies with me due to the nature of my Sage Mode.”, he admitted. Looking at his daughter, “Whatever Death wants, I do believe we know where to start our search from.”, he spoke, glancing at the book he was looking at prior, “But, the question is, are you prepared to find those answers?”

815[2250]

---

[exit]