[Continued from: Seeking the Blackened Heart Pt. II [Cabal|Run Topic]]
It was a mystery to him how he ended up outside, and in a broken down wall and no longer in the presence of Mikaboshi's strength. It was little different from the first time he woke in that hospital, laying there looking at the ceiling and wondering who he was and what he was doing on that stretcher in the first place. Nothing made sense, and just when it all began to come together somehow it was shattered again. If he had listened to Shiori and stayed back, not been goaded into failure by his less than welcoming adoptive uncle, would he still have been conscious and had knowledge of Shiori's whereabouts.
He knew of two places in general, that was the prison and the hospital and neither place he wanted to go back to. He knew the men needed help, but at the same time he knew they'd be taken away and he'd likely never see them again once the medics got a hold of them. They were outside the prison that he himself had just been inside, and the ominous blood-note scrawled on the wall seemed to be taunting the both of them specifically or rather anyone who dared seek to rescue whoever had been taken. Night had already fallen by the time he'd reached a good distance from the prison, but his pace was slow. Nearing the residential areas, he only graced the outskirts and was thus delving into the Grand Palais. A few people gave him odd looks, but cared little. The streets weren't too populated, as night hadn't fallen truly and that was when such places became the most alive.
He'd pull the two into an alleyway, seeking refuge anywhere. The village was so badly in disarray and defeated on all angles that the Shinobi were spread then, and anarchy was the order of the day. Maybe one or two people recognized the armor-clad steward or the top member of the Sunaku clan, but no one spoke. No one cared. All hope seemed lost, and they had bigger things to concern themselves with than the corpses of high ranking members that distanced themselves from the normal populace even if in career alone. They had failed to protect anyone from the Cabal, and failed to be worthy of much regard in the eyes of those feeling let down. Makeinu was oblivious in a sense, not having the knowledge of what this Shinobi world had to offer or what went on in it to make such opinions. All he knew was that he needed to find Shiori, and if either of those two men lived they might be able to help him navigate the village.
It seemed ridiculous for such a small lad, so thin and brittle looking to be pulling such strong looking men on their backs across the sand and dirt. At some point he noticed an old run-down looking building, the windows were broken and the walls seemed ancient but firm. It was so out of the way, most likely a shop of some kind abandoned and built around some time ago. He managed to pull them into the shadow of the building, but hadn't the strength to pull them onto the steps and into the domicile. However; it was unlikely anyone would stumble upon them so far back into the alleyways. Propping both men up across from each other on either side of the earthen stairs, Makeinu climbed a few and sat himself down gingerly. He'd cough, spitting up a little blood, likely from his slightly damaged lung. He held his torso and sat there in silence, waiting for someone to stir...Hoping they wouldn't slip away into the afterlife without true medical care, something he was unable to administer. Pulling his knees to his chest and looking down at them he noticed a lizard scurry away in between them, flicking up dirt with its tail before vanishing.
Was this life in Sunagakure?
Any other child would have probably called for help or taken the bodies of the wounded to the hospital, but for a number of logical reasons that wouldn't be the case with Makeinu. As he slowly but steadily made his way from the bloodied scene outside the Obsidian Palace, he painstakingly pulled on the wrists of the dark skinned male with the golden brown hair for several feet across the dusty quiet streets. Breathing heavily and sweating from his pale brow, he'd let go only to repeat the process with the heavier body of the armored steward until he laid beside his unconscious comrade. He didn't know where he was going, but he refused to stay within proximity of the evil emanating from the prison and scenes around it.It was a mystery to him how he ended up outside, and in a broken down wall and no longer in the presence of Mikaboshi's strength. It was little different from the first time he woke in that hospital, laying there looking at the ceiling and wondering who he was and what he was doing on that stretcher in the first place. Nothing made sense, and just when it all began to come together somehow it was shattered again. If he had listened to Shiori and stayed back, not been goaded into failure by his less than welcoming adoptive uncle, would he still have been conscious and had knowledge of Shiori's whereabouts.
He knew of two places in general, that was the prison and the hospital and neither place he wanted to go back to. He knew the men needed help, but at the same time he knew they'd be taken away and he'd likely never see them again once the medics got a hold of them. They were outside the prison that he himself had just been inside, and the ominous blood-note scrawled on the wall seemed to be taunting the both of them specifically or rather anyone who dared seek to rescue whoever had been taken. Night had already fallen by the time he'd reached a good distance from the prison, but his pace was slow. Nearing the residential areas, he only graced the outskirts and was thus delving into the Grand Palais. A few people gave him odd looks, but cared little. The streets weren't too populated, as night hadn't fallen truly and that was when such places became the most alive.
He'd pull the two into an alleyway, seeking refuge anywhere. The village was so badly in disarray and defeated on all angles that the Shinobi were spread then, and anarchy was the order of the day. Maybe one or two people recognized the armor-clad steward or the top member of the Sunaku clan, but no one spoke. No one cared. All hope seemed lost, and they had bigger things to concern themselves with than the corpses of high ranking members that distanced themselves from the normal populace even if in career alone. They had failed to protect anyone from the Cabal, and failed to be worthy of much regard in the eyes of those feeling let down. Makeinu was oblivious in a sense, not having the knowledge of what this Shinobi world had to offer or what went on in it to make such opinions. All he knew was that he needed to find Shiori, and if either of those two men lived they might be able to help him navigate the village.
It seemed ridiculous for such a small lad, so thin and brittle looking to be pulling such strong looking men on their backs across the sand and dirt. At some point he noticed an old run-down looking building, the windows were broken and the walls seemed ancient but firm. It was so out of the way, most likely a shop of some kind abandoned and built around some time ago. He managed to pull them into the shadow of the building, but hadn't the strength to pull them onto the steps and into the domicile. However; it was unlikely anyone would stumble upon them so far back into the alleyways. Propping both men up across from each other on either side of the earthen stairs, Makeinu climbed a few and sat himself down gingerly. He'd cough, spitting up a little blood, likely from his slightly damaged lung. He held his torso and sat there in silence, waiting for someone to stir...Hoping they wouldn't slip away into the afterlife without true medical care, something he was unable to administer. Pulling his knees to his chest and looking down at them he noticed a lizard scurry away in between them, flicking up dirt with its tail before vanishing.
Was this life in Sunagakure?
