Retrospection

Fri Jul 29, 2022 5:34 pm

Kamui. The view had become familiar. Yurei knew every pillar. Every crack. Felt the bob of the space around him in a void-like ocean. Floating. To most, it was a hellscape. Devoid of life, of energy, of anything remotely earth-like. It was the antithesis of everything most shinobi, most people, knew. But for Yurei Uchiha, it was home. It was a place he could center himself, free of distraction, of the trappings of the shinobi world around him. It allowed himself to detach from what he knew - to free himself of bias and influence. Here, he was the only constant. The bridge linking this realm to him through his Mangekyou Sharingan made Kamui his. Anyone, anything else, was an alien.

Yurei felt his own breathing echo in the space between himself and the mask adorned upon his face. He felt his cool pulse beneath his skin drumming inside him in rhythm. It was music. The shadows beneath his hideous brow draped over his face, sheltering it from light until he opened his eyes and revealed his cool gaze. They glowed white, but did not shimmer. It was a still radiance. Piercing. They drifted across the vastness of kamui, the emptiness surrounding him. Just him. His breathing. His heartbeat. His music.

But he was not alone. The others dwelled beneath him, cluttered in a camp. Aliens. Yurei stared down at them. Even in living with Yurei, Damon had not grown accustomed to Kamui. He never would, not in the same way Yurei had. Komon, on the other hand, was much less at home. Perhaps restless. Uneasy. The situation surrounding their union, their goals, pressed down on them like a thick fog.

But perched atop his pillar, staring down at them, he could see beyond that fog - at what lie ahead. Yurei’s eyes thinned, brimming with a cold hate. He stared out at the stillness of kamui, his breathing constant even with the emotions churring about inside him.

They were not difficult to control. Not anymore. Such was the life of a shinobi, but moreso one who had endured such hardship as Yurei. Moreover, Yurei was a logician. Such qualities were becoming of a leader, a strategist. If his aspirations were to be met, his mind would have to be sound. Precise. Clinical. It had not been for several years that Yurei had last experienced joy in any form. Nor sadness. Instead, he felt a dull tension in his chest. That flame he had so often described. Constant. Cold. It burned, kindled only by that lasting hatred deep inside him. The flame of ambition smoldered, and that was all. He, his body, his power, was but a vessel. And he would make them reality.

Again, his eyes drifted to those gathered beneath him. Brothers. Comrades. They had their parts to play in this production. The prelude was nearing its end. Within hours, he’d see it.

The Kage Summit.

The meeting was no secret. The location, however, had eluded Yurei. How fortunate was it to find a long lost Kumogakure shinobi, and, moreover, a friend who knew its location? Many would have argued fate or destiny. Yurei, however, knew it only as the careful seed he had planted years ago. Despite his contempt for the system that hounded their world, knowing the game came before flipping the board. Then, breaking it.

For the first time in what felt like decades, Yurei felt intrigue. Interest. It was all towards the same goal, the same end, but a step towards it, a true step, nonetheless. The first of many in the downfall of the shinobi world as they knew it. What awaited him in that isolated country of ice and snow was the foundation of his campaign. The Raikage. The Hokage. The Mizukage. The Hogokage. All these leaders unified in one joint meaning. And for what? Yurei might have scoffed. Perhaps something of semblance escaped his mouth.

He was, after all, a fan of history. Such would be thus in the making.

Yurei stood, gathering his cloak onto himself. The pillar suspended above him rose higher, drifting up into the black space of kamui until meeting another. The clack of his heels onto the next pillar echoed outward. He placed his long-fingered hands behind his back and walked, breathing. Rhythm. Music. All in one orchestra. A song that spelt the spark and sang that cold flame within his chest. The Raikage. The Hokage. The Mizukage. The Hogokage. It had been so long since he had set eyes on any. And yet now he found himself journeying to their most acclaimed meeting. The site of the most unprecedented events in Shinobi history. Peace. Or so it was said to set out to achieve.

How many summits had there been Yurei wondered. How many attempts had there been at replicating the dream of a child? That contempted story of Uzumaki Naruto. The naivety. The bravado. The arrogance. How many had tried?

Yurei came to the end of the platform, staring outward. He had reached it. The void. It was empty. The shadows of distant pillars fell into the abyss, of that “sky” generated by kamui. Tethered to it, above and below. Sunless. Nightless.

He found himself gazing into it. Listening to himself. To it. The drone of space. The hum of a dead beast. His. His chest. Him.

Those skeletal hands clasped behind his back shifted and he raised his chest, breathing in the stiff air. It cooled his lungs. Suffocating. Breathless. But the breath of life. He closed his eyes. This is what he wanted. What he wanted for everyone. For every man woman and child to take their first breaths and feel life in lifelessness. That was the peace he sought to achieve. A peace he could control. A world that answered to him so that it might be saved.

And for all else, the hell that awaited them.

Yurei opened his eyes. They lay beneath him, outstretched or cradled against the cool platform. Asleep.

WC: 1001
1970/2500 Kagura

https://www.narutoroleplaygame.com/t51774p20-scars-of-the-past#396566 Last claim
20 AP

Sat Jul 30, 2022 11:55 am

Approved

Retrospection

Retrospection

Re: Retrospection