Heart of Stone

With power comes a price.

For Xyxer, no price could offer the slightest inhibition. Power was a well within a person that needed to be inexhaustible. Any sacrifice, great or small, in order to ensure that strength overflowed within him, was not only necessary, but welcomed. When the situation did not offer a proper sacrifice in order to further his power, he would orchestrate an event in order to ensure its inevitable arrival. He’d trampled over so many in his pursuit for glory. The desire to be the most renowned shinobi birthed within the womb of Kirigakure, yet it all had started from a lie. He wasn’t born in the Land of Mist that he had coveted so much. Originally, he was born in a distant continent known as the Land of Silence. His descent from samurai of old lending credence to the mans fluency with all manners of blades.

While he walked through the lands towards the destination in his mind, the world felt different than when he had traversed it with his army. The notion brought a smile to his tanned features, although that was unseen by any around him while he wore the second skin of The Abysswalker. It had been with him since the beginning, it was only fitting he kept it until the end, wherever that may take him. Hot breath reverberated inside of his helm, yet it was a feeling he’d grown accustomed to just as much as the weight of a weapon became second-nature to his hand. A reminder of where his proficiencies lay. A comfort to a man of war.

Each footstep across a glade wrought a soft crunch from the grass as it gave way to the tested armour. The fresh scent of pine entwining with the naturally earthy aroma that could only come after a recent bout of rain. Would the worms be above the ground now that the sky was clear? All around him trees spanned the distance, and although his feet seemed to recognise the path they were now on, his eyes couldn’t. Every moment of his life he had passed by without too much of a care. Muscle memory served him well, and had perhaps became too much of a crutch that he had relied upon. He ignored the beauty of the world, or simply had been incapable of recognising it when his thoughts solely roamed planes of violence. 

Deep within him, there was a growling that perforated his mind. No, it didn’t pierce him anymore, it colluded with him. Soothed him. Two beasts caged together in a vessel that was insufficient. In a rare moment, he vocally spoke to the monster that had transitioned into his confidant, “I should have killed him back there, Gyuki. His very existence is a threat to my legacy. His sardonic attitude. Make a spectacle of it before the might of Kirigakure.” The words, partially distorted by the metal of the helm, were delivered to the invisible passenger. Momentarily, his brows furrowed as he knew the response of the Bijuu. Fratricide was a far greater sin than any he had already perpetrated. No redemption could be found in the slaughter of a twin. No meaningful answer discovered. It was the warlords ego that desired the conflict more than anything else, yet that monster was waning.

Too many had fallen by his hand for any notion of redemption to seem plausible. He didn’t care to be redeemed in the eyes of others, only one person, and their existence was a great shade that loomed ever present in the life of Xyxer. Whether he was alive or dead; The Abysswalker did not know the answer to the sole question he wished to ask. The only question that ever really mattered to him after their initial encounter.

Doing a double take of his surroundings once again, it became clear that he had started walking on water a while ago, yet failed to process the information coherently. Ironic in a sense that he was to be deprived of final thoughts and trivial enjoyments of the world he had helped to shape. In the vast expanse of ocean, he finally felt at home. A wealth of isolation and unexplored territories. This was the treasure that he coveted, and for years Kirigakure owned every wind that governed the sea. A glorious reign, yet unfulfilling in what he truly desired.

When he finally stood above the ruins of Old Kirigakure, he lowered himself down onto his knees, resting against his heels. The entirety of his inventory, excluding Tidebreaker and Abysswalker, had been deposited in the realm of Shogun. A place he didn’t wish to visit again. False gods govern imaginary realms. His plan this time was more devised, yet all in all, a gambit that had little chance of paying off minus the salvation of no longer having to trouble his weary feet again. While the wind howled around his form, scratching at the armour that for the first time had started to feel heavy on him, Xyxer removed the fanged blade from over his shoulder, resting it momentarily on his lap in the shortest length it had. He was so tired of fighting. It held an irreplaceable spot in the Hozuki’s heart. So many nicks gnawed through the blade, scars of glory and proof of conquest. Heirloom of the Mist. 

The rich, exotic blue of the ocean beneath warmed the stone heart, drying it from its eternally damp status. Heavy was the burden that burrowed within his chest, sitting there as if it was a boulder. Day after day he was cursed to carry it around. He spared no sympathy for men he slaughtered on a whim, no condolences for the imminent widows that wailed when they heard the news of Kirigakures approach. He craved what he could no longer find, and in the end, his blood brother, his true brother was his weakness.The brother he chose in the unforgiving mist. The brother he failed during the collapse of Tengakure. The brother he conquered the majority of the known world for in the hopes of seeing his smile again.

Pitch black eyes, midnight ears, dark nose. Fuzzy white ripples adorning the rest of the mask, as well as his jovial voice rang through the head of the kneeling man. His title had no value to him. To be known as the Mizukage without the eyes of the only man he respected upon him was meaningless. The power in which he had naught but a whisper against the wind if he could not use it protect his true friend. A farce in which he could no longer partake. Kirigakure could continue without him, and perhaps change its ways in light of a new era. The bloodshed that Xyxer once sailed upon to instill terror in the nation was close to ceasing entirely, yet there was still one soul left. One spirit that was overdue.

There was barely any resistance at all, and he was unsure on whether it was due to the assistance of the Bijuu itself or his ignorance of his own weak flesh. The initially hissing, and screech of metal upon metal was amiss to him while his abdomen received the prize of victory. It hurt. There were no poetic words, no uncanny allusions to be made. Carving through the small intestine, his double grip on the hilt twisted, his knuckles white beneath the worn gauntlets. The gnarled blade hooked the intestines, dragging them out over the course of the incision. It felt like forever, but occurred over a short timeframe while blood oozed forth from his ruptured organs along with various acidic juice, his entrails scattering upon his lap and attempting to trail into the tranquil waters of his only home.

That was not the end of his ritual. Reluctantly, weakly, the swordsman withdrew the relic from his abdomen, twisting it to relieve the weapon of the entrails that were tangled. It felt as if another force was guiding him in his final moments, perhaps even spectral hands held the blade alongside him. Ally? Foe? It did not matter. Once again, the blade sunk deep into him, although this time at the base of his abdomen before it rose up, through the intestines that remained, cutting and getting caught upon the soft tissue before ending at the top of his stomach.

His strength gave way.

Pain throbbed through him.

With the constant trickling of blood, and the feeling of disorientation that crept upon him, Xyxer knelt. His senses screamed at him, yet the noise was quiet in contrast to the mans thoughts. Takizawa Kenchi. A man he could not be. He walked alongside demons, and perhaps that was why he had became Xyxers companion. If he was still alive… perhaps, in the next life… Xyxer could be his Oni friend. Yeah, he had an Oni summoning contract. They would meet again. They were going to meet again. As the darkness enveloped Xyxer, his mind remained on Kenchi of the Hidden Mist.

Always.

[Of course, claiming the death of Xyxer, the closure of the topic, and preferably his bodies destruction through Gyukis emergence. Thanks for the memories pals.]

Approved of character death along with the destruction of Xyxer's body and items. The bijuu will be put back into the pool.


Great final post, thanks for everything.