Mission Forging through Kirigakure [S rank smm]

[Myakashi Migoya]

Part one

One thing that certainly stood out was the blistering cold, but this was no mere weather event. Migoya had certain protections against natural weather phenomena… but this… was something ‘else’. Death itself seemed to permeate the very land, indeed all the structures of Kirigakure, but this was not the normal death he was accustomed to. This was far more perverse. His crimson gaze rested over the once vibrant village, now a wasteland of abandoned buildings, toppled towers, and the very presence of death itself.

He had been here previously to gather information and any artefacts from Kirigakure’s past to aid in his research, but his time here was limited. As night fell it seemed as if the raging dead themselves wanted to rip at his soul and, powerful as he was at the arts of death, he would never presume to face such a force.

This time however he was there to craft something using the long-forgotten forges of Kirigakure. The specific materials and art forms of the master blacksmiths of the land of water were specific to the area, and the plans for the specialised armour Akkuma had given to him required certain materials in order to create it. Certainly, Migoya was very skilled in the arts of creation, puppet master that he was for over a rather long period, but blacksmithing… that was a specialised art form.

Migoya mused over the possibility that Akkuma had intentionally sent him to Kirigakure to remove him off the board so to speak. He knew of the lands deadly nature indeed, and it would not be above such an intelligent creature to plan for such a trap. Still, Migoya’s analysis of the designs he had provided indicated certain materials that he knew would only be found in Kirigakure - more specifically a particular alloy that could only be blended in Kiri’s specialised forges.

That, and Migoya had once lived here, and knew this place. He had served here as a Sennin, though that information was strangely forgotten to time. That felt like a lifetime ago - indeed as if it were in another plane of existence, but this was, for all intents and purposes, yet another home of the strange albino who seemed to be ripped out of time and space as a penalty for some crime.

He breathed in the frigid air, memories of what this place once looked like coming back to him. Certainly, it had changed much even before whatever event had occurred to wipe this place from the world and his memories of locations was somewhat limited. He remembered the past friendships he had had, the drama, the same repetitive issues over leadership that all villages suffered from - but it seemed as if it were a dream from another lifetime ago.

I really don’t like this place.

Migoya nodded in acknowledgement of Mikki’s statement, knowing full well that the poor Tsukumogami was far more in tune with the spirits of this place than he was, and that those spirits were full of rage, fear, and hate.

“We will only be here as long as we need to Mikki-kun.” Migoya said in an effort to calm the puppet. “I only have limited information, and remember little, of this place so I need your help in locating the forges”.

Cant you ask the rat to do it, Mikki stated, referencing Migoya’s other elemental companion.

“You know Barry will only hinder the investigation - an elemental such as he will react rather strongly to whatever it is that permeates this place. He is already angry enough - he is a cyclone in a itty bitty space after all.” Migoya responded.

Lucky thing. Gods it’s cold.

Migoya again nodded, this time putting a small amount of chakra into the strange, white wooden staff he held. The staff began to glow, its presence seemingly holding back the strange evil of the place. It wouldn't last very long - even a branch from the World’s Tree had its limits here, blessed of the Kami’s and the Tsukumogami’s, but it should enable the pair to get closer to their prize. His other hand pulled his thick, black hood over his head whilst he scanned the village, trying to recall where the forges were. They had belonged to a particular clan of weaponsmiths - experts in their artform - but the name had, strangely, left his exceptional mind. For someone who had for all intents and purposes an eidetic memory, the amount of information he had forgotten about this place was… concerning. Obviously supernatural in nature.

His footsteps were silent on top of the snow as he moved closer to the village proper. The cracking of a strange speaker and the howling of the wind were the only noises as the pair walked towards what Migoya hoped was the main city square. Memories, passing as if they belonged to someone else, filtered into his mind - images of this place in its prime with people simply living their lives, the sun warming their faces.

Then the cold would come and push away any such warm thoughts.

His eyes were particularly looking for any signs of a weapons or shinobi equipment shop. Perhaps that would lead him to further information about the location of the forges. He walked carefully down the wide street, leading from the gates of Kirigakure towards what used to be the main market area. He noted the various food stalls and other shops lining the street, standing as if frozen in time, their food either frozen or rotten in the places they lay. Every now and then the form of a person, frozen in the last seconds of their life, stood doing whatever it was they had been doing when the calamity struck. What exactly happened here Migoya had never been able to find out. It was infuriating indeed to someone as nosy as himself.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Migoya noted a nearby shinobi supply shop, the ice-covered window still displaying a range of kunai and weaponry though their blades now looked pitted by the freezing temperatures. Taking a breath to calm his nerves, Migoya walked towards the building’s door.

It took a measure of chakra-fueled strength to move the frozen door from its hinges, the screeching sound of the door echoing around the silent marketplace. Migoya groaned inwardly, knowing if anything living, or indeed not living, in the direct area would now know that someone was there. The coldness of the door bit at his hand through the black gloves he wore especially for this area, causing small discomfort as he made his way into the shop.

Various equipment for shinobi life hung on the walls - ropes, climbing gear, weapons and what appeared to have once been various powders and pills, long rotted away or frozen solid. They would be useless in any event, but the weapons… that is what he needed.

“Ok Mikki - you are up. Let’s have a chat to these weapons - see if they can tell you where they were forged.”

Weaving a set of strange hand seals, Migoya seemed to take on the ‘talking’ abilities of his companion, allowing the pair of them to start to question the various tools around the shop. [CRPJ: ‘Mikki’s Ramblings’].

Almost immediately the weapons started to complain about the cold. ‘Its freezing. My edge is dulled’. Migoya looked at Mikki, who returned the gaze - they both clearly were annoyed with the bombardment of complaints. They both tried to get a word in edgewise, but the weapons simply were desperate to be free of the cold.

Casting a discerning eye amidst the weapons, Migoya located what appeared to be a punching dagger formed to resemble a breaking wave. The craftsman's mark indicated that it was forged by the Shoukyou clan… a rather familiar name, though Migoya could not quite place them. Still, it was worth a shot.

Drawing out the blather from the other weapons, Migoya focused his efforts on focusing his chakra into producing heat onto his palms, an old taijutsu he had learned from when he was a genin. Reaching forward he felt the hiss of the strange ice start to melt away from the dagger, and in his head he heard the strangely feminine ‘voice’ of the weapon speak to him.

It is so cold. My edge is dull.

Migoya’s hand slowly curled its way around the handle of the dagger, the steam from the melted ice hissing like a snake.

I understand. I will set you free, but I need your help. Tell me where you were made. What can you remember experiencing?

Heat. Fire. Warmth. Ringing of metal.

Yes. Very good. Anything else?

Hisssssss.

Migoya raised a white eyebrow. A hiss sound? Steam… gas?

Hot then cold then hard. Bang, bang, bang. Cold. Heat. Bang, bang, bang. Cold. Heat. Bang, bang…

We know that part already. Stupid weapons dont know much do they? Migoya, this wasn't a very smart idea.

Shoukyou. Be proud of what you make. Pretty. Sell. Delivery from Casino. Wytukoshi store.

Migoya concentrated on the words of the dagger.

Held. Admired. Put down. Screaming. Freezing. You.

The last of the ice fell away from the strange punching dagger, the branding of the weaponsmith now clearly visible. The Shoukyou clan… something about a casino? What was the link? Migoya’s mind was blank… the name sounded far too familiar but…

He looked at the craftsmanship of the dagger, the intricate nature of the blade itself. Someone had been proud to create this weapon. A Skoukyou clan member? And now there was a location - the casino.

Thank you… err… Wave. Yes, that will be your name. Migoya, not waiting for a response, put the strange weapon into his satchel.

“It looks like we should head to the casino… I do not recall there being forges around there, but perhaps I could be mistaken.”

You are always mistaken Migo-kun. Mikki teased, climbing onto Migoya's shoulder knowing that there was going to be yet another journey ahead of them

Migoya snickered. “Do you want to walk? No? Then shut up and lets go”.

And thus the trio wandered towards the direction they thought the casino was at, Migoya's careful eye making sure of where the sun was.

[WC: 1678]

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

Part 2

It was by chance that Migoya stumbled upon the weathered sign of the casino, barely visible under a thick layer of unnatural frost. Curiosity tugged at his spirit, urging him to step inside and discover what lay within. As he pushed open the creaking doors, a wave of strange nostalgia washed over him. The dimly lit room was adorned with faded wallpaper and worn-out carpeting. A sense of longing filled the air, as if the echoes of past gamblers still lingered, along with repressed memories that seemed to have existed several lifetimes ago. Voices, just on the edge of understanding, flittered through his ears and his dark sage instincts kicked into overdrive, knowing full well that the souls of the dead were surrounding him, watching.

Intrigued, Migoya began to explore the casino, tracing his fingers along the cold, metal slot machines. He could almost hear the clinking of coins and the laughter of winners past. Tables, still bearing their chips held in the frozen hands of those who seemingly did not wish to escape the creeping frozen doom, lingered around as if frozen mid-bid. As he ventured deeper into the casino, a strange sensation coursed through Migoya’s veins—a pull, as if an invisible force was guiding him. Parts of the building and its surrounds had collapsed under the years of heavy ice, but whatever was leading him brought him to a narrow corridor, which seemed to be sloping downwards.

Descending a flight of stairs, Migoya found himself in a dimly lit basement. The air grew heavy with the scent of dust and decay. His heart quickened as he discovered an old, rusted door tucked away in a corner. He pushed the door, but it stubbornly refused to open, even as Migoya turned its rusted handle, Reaching forward, Migoya noticed the freezing cold that emanated off the doors’ lock just below the handle, it having frozen solid along with any normal hope of being able to open it. Still, such mundane things as keys were never such an issue. Normally he would have blasted the door from its hinges, but this was not his home, nor did he wish to disturb the spirits here by being so disrespectful.

A pale hand reached forth to touch the lock, Migoya muttering something in the strange language of the Tsukumogami [CRPJ: Mikki’s Conversations]. A conversation between himself and the ‘lock’ seemed to have appeased the instrument, and, with a little bit of a struggle from the mechanism and a small heat-based jutsu on Migoya’s behalf into the lock to melt any ice, a ‘click’ was heard. He pushed the door forward, the doors hinges groaning in protest, but soon there was space for the spry albino to slip in.

Before him stood a magnificent forge, its flames long dead but whispering promises of much-needed heat. Tables were covered in various metals, both useful and scrap, along with the other necessary ingredients of the blacksmith - tannins, dyes, and other materials. Tools of the trade, long forgotten, were scattered across the workbench. It was as if time had stood still in this forgotten place, preserving the artistry and craftsmanship of a bygone era.

Migoya couldn't resist the allure of the forge. He felt a connection to it, as if it held the key to something… more. Hesitant at first, he gingerly picked up a nearby hammer, feeling its weight in his hand as if it were a part of him, despite its metal being extremely cold. Turning to pull out a piece of parchment from his knapsack, he took the paper and smoothed it out across a nearby table, holding it in place with several heavy pieces of discarded iron. His gaze expertly scanned over the design the Akkuma had made - a specialised armour made of a rare alloy only found here in Kirigakure that permitted directly injectable chemicals to be placed within it and used at the mere thought of the shinobi who wore it. Migoya’s skills as a puppet maker enabled him to decipher the strange design in such a way as to envisage it as a ‘puppet suit’ so to speak - although without all the nice traps that would usually be a part of it. So whilst he wasn't the best armorsmith, he could certainly follow these blueprints.

Still, the issue remained on how to ignite the frozen forge. From appearances it seemed to be gas driven, taking advantage of the volcanic nature of the islands of the land of water. Whether that gas was still flowing was another question, and if indeed it was, how could they ensure that the system itself would be safe. One leaking gas pipe could spell disaster.
Walking closer to the forge, Migoya looked over the structure for any defects or obvious issues. He was no expert in such things, but a cursory glance showed him that whoever the clan was that used this forge, they had made it to last.

A small wooden head popped up from Migoya’s satchel, looking around carefully before clambering up to his shoulder and joining him in watching the forge.

Well looks like the fires out. Too bad. Time to go. Clearly Mikki was not too pleased to be here, surrounded by death and evil spirits.

"We need to stoke it once more. Find out if there is a gas leak and plug it if you can". Migoya said quietly.

Mikki sighed in the soundless way only he could. He clambered down Migoya’s arm and jumped onto the stone lip of the forge, placing a little wooden hand on its smooth and freezing cold stone.

Hmm. She says the lines are ok, except there are a few blockages. Can I stick a flamethrower down them.

Migoya quickly turned to face his friend. “NO!” He said a bit too loudly. “Do you want to blow up half the village!”

Well… that would be fun. Mikki said matter-of-factly.

Looking far from impressed at the joke, Migoya continued. “Mikki - we need to hurry up and get this done. Can you locate the necessary iron ore and the… what is it… magnetite. It should have a blue-colour.”

I know what magnetite is Migo. Mikki scoffed.

“Fine - we will need some. Ill clear out the pipes, well… more specifically someone else will.”

Migoya started the handseals as Mikki groaned and started in on his own assignment.

It was not long before a strange rat-like creature, dressed in a similar black robe to Migoya’s would appear seemingly formed out of dust particles. Barry was an elemental - more specifically a dust elemental - bound to Migoya through a rare pact that made him more a homunculus than anything else.

Words formed out of dust appeared silently in the air in front of Migoya’s face.

It. Cold. Here. Burn.

“No Barry. I need you to focus. I need to you travel down this pipe and using your disintegration jutsu, remove the blockages in the pipes. ONLY the blockages. No fire. Nothing but your particle jutsu”. Migoya was very clear to the rat - poor Barry was relatively new and was, well, rather stupid. His knowledge would grow with time and with experience.

Go. Pipe. Jutsu. Blocks.

"Yes, that is correct. One that is done and you can smell something different, come back here quickly and let me know."

No. Blocks. Smell. Return.

"Yes. Very good."

The rat, not waiting for any more information, dissipated into tiny motes of dust and seemingly flew down the small gas pipe. Migoya turned to look over Akkuma’s designs once more, taking in all the necessary steps required to bring his vision to life.

[WC: 1251]

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

The forge blazed with a fiery intensity, providing the necessary heat to mould and shape the metal. With the pipes now cleared of ice, sufficient amounts of the underground gas would wind its way to the forge where a simple fire jutsu once again ignite the famous Shoukyou forge. The sounds of creaking and cracking ice could be heard around the forge as the heat fight back against the unnatural coldness, like a candle holding back the dark.

Migoya knew he did not have long before the sun went down, and he would need to at least prepare the necessary plating for the armour before Kirigakure fell into darkness. He had arrived in the morning, and it was noon now - that leave far little time for him to complete his task.

Baby steps, he reminded himself.

The sounds of hammering once more filled the vaunted halls of the Shoukyou clan as Migoya worked his talents into forging the strange dark-blue metal into the plating designed by Akkuma. The armour itself was simple and could easily be forged into the usual Kirigakurian shinobi armour, of which several damaged sets were strewn around the room, but it was the complex use of the strange metal. Cobalt blended with the native steel here produced a rust-resistant, beautiful sheen and strong metal. Adding a small amount of zinc to the mix drew the metal down into its current dark blue shade.

These sets of armour were specifically designed for his nephew and grand-niece, both followers of She who is below. The Myakashi armour tended to be black or grey, but these sets were special - a gift. Akkuma’s designs for self-injecting adrenaline and the like were ingenious, Migoya had to admit, but such complicated mechanisms were something he would prefer to do back in the safety of Yamigakure. For now, he was focused on forging the metal parts needed for the armour.

The forge was uncharacteristically hot, fed by both the natural gas of the area and some secret mechanism native to the Shoukyou clan. If there had been time Migoya would have liked to have tried to solve that mystery, but until the curse had been lifted from this place that would be unlikely. Perhaps there were living clan members he could track down…

Focus.

Sweat pooled down his face as he completed another armor plate, its dark blue surface rippling as if made by water. Wee Yong should appreciate that. The pile grew quickly, as between him, Mikki talking to the forge, and Barry fueling the forge, the work was easily completed. Several hours had passed and Migoya was almost halfway done.

So of course naturally something had to go wrong.

The forge fires suddenly extinguished, leaving Migoya in absolute darkness, his own staff not emitting its normal white glow. A small measure of panic surged through his veins, and he knew he had to act quickly. With no time to waste, he searched the workshop for any available source of light - a candle, anything. The sounds of falling amour indicated he had found something, but nothing useful. He tried to summon chakra - including the photon jutsu he tended to despise, but they could not pierce this strange darkness.

And then the cold set in.

Migoya knew cold. Migoya was cold. The cold of death permeated through his very being but this cold… this was… impossible. He had to get out of there and quickly.

“Mikki - I need you to trust me! Im going to unsummon you - but only until I can get somewhere safe!”

Migo-kun… its so cold.

I hates ittttt. Cold. Freeze. Poor Barry.

“I will call you soon.” Migoya flinched, knowing that for the first time in decades he was unsummoning Mikki, quickly went through the handseals, releasing both Mikki and Barry. The silence was deafening, and now he was truly alone.

He could not see the door to escape, but he always had an ace in his sleeve. Highly complex handseals were formed, even through the creeping frost, and another appeared in the darkness.

Then all went silent.

WC: 668

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

It was indeed a strange place that Myakashi Migoya found himself. The deathly cold had vanished, along with light, the forge… well… everything except himself, Mikki, Barry and his clone. The red eyes of his clones’ sharingan shone brightly here in the hollow, in fact most of the colours seemed to stand out amidst the gloom.

Where the hells are we? Mikki intoned, after being summoned back. Clearly he LOATHED wherever it was that he went back to, as he was more pouty than usual.

“The hollow I believe it is called - a world between worlds. The Uchiha are capable of warping reality and folding it into this space.” Migoya responded, looking around the area he found himself in.

Oh - this is where you store all our stuff, and where you trained Yong. Looks boring.

Migoya smirked at that comment. “Exactly. I never knew you were so observant”.

Mikki ‘huffed’, well he would have if he had lungs.

It’s kinda obvious when there is a big pile of stuff over there. Armour, weapons, bodies, plants… you packing to move or something.

“No. Just cleaning up after myself. Nothing rots here you see, so it’s great for my experiments. In any event, we should stay here for the night. Kirigakure will not be safe until morning. Let us get some rest.”

Migoya sat down on the ‘ground’, gathering up his robes around him as Mikki snuggled into his elbow.

Migo-kun. Why are we… you know… making armour? Especially here in Kirigakure. I mean… its kinda dumb, and I know you could probably make that stuff back home. This place is cursed… like really cursed.

Migoya nodded, understanding the Tsukumogami’s concerns.

“Well - the ore needed is particular to the region. I surmise that Akkuma was hoping that I would be killed by coming here, and that I would either give up - making the Myakashi look weak - or die. Either way that would consolidate his hold on Kiko. It is a power play, and one that I admire and respect. I would do something similar in his position.”

Sheesh. Talk about sleeping with the enemy. Why work for him if he wants you dead?

“It is because he wants me dead that I find working with him beneficial. We only want those dead that we are afraid of - ergo he must be scared of either me, or more likely the Myakashi. He knows we could destroy his plans, but by integrating ourselves in them he is both gaining the benefit from us, but also weaving a web around himself that will lead him to rely on us. And if he harms us, well, the spider will have its due.”

Do you always think like this Migo-kun. Its exhausting.

Migoya let out a chuckle that echoed in the hollow.

“Honestly, its also fun. I have an eternity to look forward to Mikki-kun, so I might as well enjoy myself in the here and now. If I can establish the clan and the village and ensure their safety, then I will feel complete. I owe it to my brothers and to Kirin.”

But what if Akkuma wins?

“Then we start again. Akkuma is smart enough, at least the Shinigami inside of him is smart enough, to know that every win he has against the Myakashi will eventually come back to bite him. Better he work with us than against us.” With a snap of his fingers a small blue flame appeared, hovering in front of them and sending a strange blue glow to highlight their features.

“But back to your question before… the armour will be a symbol. We overcame the death that is Kirigakure, and returned with a visible symbol of that. He will know our prowess, and we will know exactly what it was he was trying to do to us.”

You guys enjoy this game, dont you.

“Yes. We do.”

And everyone else are pawns in your game of shogi?

At that Migoya looked down at the puppet, Mikki’s words stinging in both their simplicity and complex nature.

“I could have spent my entire life happy as a med-nin in Konoha, sleeping in our tree, feeding the geese, cultivating my garden. Watching Kirin with our children play. Certainly I would have missed Yong, but we would have been content.”

“But life… is never simple. I have memories of Konoha, of Suna, of Kirigakure… memories that make no sense, as if lived by someone else. In all of those lives I have strived to create something of note, establish our clan, become Sennin or some other position of note, but in each instance I fall, I leave, I am taken advantage of. It is like a reoccurring nightmare that sits at the back of my mind, gnawing away at any hope I have. The others do not understand it - but I feel like I am always set up to fail, and to rebirth and restart. Over and over. A punishment for some transgression I committed, and as a result those I love go, and come back, and go again. The actors on the stage change, at least their memories seem to, and we start again".

"So is everyone else a pawn in my game of shogi? Perhaps. Each will be taken off the board, only to be replaced by another in a new game".

Mikki looked at Migoya with his eyeless visage, clearly listening carefully to the words he uttered. Whether Mikki knew of the situation, or indeed why Migoya was caught up in this endless and eternal loop, he gave no indication. In any event, small wooden hands wrapped around the black velvet sleeve of Migoya’s robe.

Well… Ill be a castle. Yong is a knight as he does weird shit and breaks rules. Doku and Hisao are bishops because they are straight forward. And Kirin can be the queen. We are not pawns. Nope.

Migoya scratched Mikki’s head affectionately. “No. You are not. In any event… I am glad you are with me on this journey.”

Mikki seemed content with that response as he leant into Migoyas arm, seemingly dozing off.

Red eyes looked into the strange blue flame, Migoya’s brow furrowed in thought. It would take some time for him to complete the necessary plating for the armour - hopefully uninterrupted. Then he could get out of this strange and horrible place that had once been his home. Or was it him… or someone else?

[WC - 1060]

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

Part 3

The night went by uneventfully, the small toll on Migoya’s chakra in maintaining the hollow compensated by drawing strength from his own creations. This symbiosis was somewhat strange, but that was the way of those who dealt with death. Soon he summoned his ‘puppet’, and they once again found themselves in the frozen forge. It was not long before the heat of the place was once again stoked, and the fires of the forge once again lit.

The sounds of metal being pounded into shape once again echoed through this hall of one-time mastery. Several pieces of the plating for the armour, all with the strange dark blue, were created, as well as several with a black base. Migoya often enjoyed the simple act of working with his hands - it led his thoughts away from darker places. It was true that he was no master craftsman himself, except with puppets, but the simple places could be fashioned by his skilled clanmates back in Yamigakure.

The day passed quickly, and soon the sun started its decent beyond the horizon. Migoya had not completed all that he had wished to do, so he had pushed himself.

It was then that the forge fires went out, and the room plunged into freezing, biting cold. A translucent, cold hand latched onto Migoya’s shoulder, causing him to recoil in horror. The pain was intense - similar to what he could inflict on others, but this cold came from a far more sinister source. Instinctively, he lashed our with a flame-covered hand, his flaming fist passing through the creature, causing it to fade away as if by smoke. His shoulder continued to burn though, the pain etching through his thick robe.

“Mikki - we need to get out of here. I will finish the rest at home. Gather the ore and lets get out of here!”

Too bloody right!

Using the power of his Uchiha animation, Migoya opened another portal to the hollow. Holding his staff in front of him, the glow of its wood stood as a barrier against the spirits that would do them harm. Carved and gifted from the world tree itself, its spiritual nature tended to class with that of these strange spirits, causing them to hold back their onslaught. Mikki, using chakra strings, quickly threw as much of the ore into the hollow.

“Quickly!”

Im going as fast as I bloody can. You think I enjoy it here!

Migo-kun… My little Kooks…

Migoya’s face paled at the all-too familiar voice.

Why did you leave me to die Migo-kun? Did you no longer need me? You have your legacy - am I but a pawn in your game of shogi?

A translucent face, all too familiar, drifted in front of Migoya’s eyes. The features, the confident and cocky stare that could strip him to the bone. The fine kaguya bonestructure, adding to the hint of noble arrogance.

His love. His life.

His wife.

“Kirin..”

“Yes my ‘love’. You left me here to die, to suffer. I am cold, and trapped, and all because of you!”

Migoya blinked hard, the glow in his staff flickering as his concentration wavered.

“I… I did not leave you here? What are you talking about?”

“You wanted us to find a new home. I came here to see if the stories were true. They were - and you did not come to find me! You abandoned me!”

“I never would abandon you. Come with me…”

Migo… who are you talking to?

“Its Kirin Mikki… I found her”.

Its just a bunch of whiny spirits Migo.

“No.. its her!”

“Yes my love. Come and save me - it has been too long, and it is oh so cold.” Kirin’s hand reached towards Migoyas cheek. Migoya, very uncharacteristically, moved forward. The coldness from her form became almost unbearable, but yet Migoya continued to move forward, his face wrapped up in visions of his beloved.

Mikki, confused as to what was happening, only saw Migoya’s staff falling from his fingers as he reached forward to something he couldnt see.

Migo-kun! What the hells are you doing!

“Nearly there my love”, Kirin purred, her smile something that Migoya would vividly remember on her porcelain face.

Migoya’s hand reached out to stroke Kirin’s face, in a similar way that she was doing to him. A wide smile graced Migoya’s face as he looked into his loves eyes, memories of better times flooding in. His hand stroked her face, its intense cold causing large amounts of pain to flash up his arm and into his heart.

He winced at the pain, but continued to smile.

“I will always remember your face my love.”

Kirin smiled in response, her hand lingering on Migoya’s face as he spoke. The smile grew colder however, and soon turned into a confused look.

Migoya’s smile left his face, leaving behind a look that could, and had, caused death.

“What are you doing my love?”, Kirin pleaded.

Migoya’s hands started to glow with a measure of holy power - something he was loathe to summon, but exactly what he needed. Calling on his Dark Sage gifts, Migoya was simply ‘saving’ this soul - even is said soul was anything but the person it claimed to be.

“Stop… stop it. It hurts”, the false Kirin purred.

“Good”. Migoya said with the coldness of the grave, grabbing the spirit in his glowing hand as if it were a ragdoll.

“Let me go Myakashi Migoya, or I will curse your kind for eternity!”, the being screamed in an unearthly voice. Migoya did not respond, only moving quietly with the struggling creature towards one of the finished ‘plates’ of armour he had prepared. Several smaller spirits were taking advantage of the lack of spiritual protection and were nibbling at him, their freezing touch only angering the Yamikage even further.

His empty hand reached over to the bluish metal plate.

“Well, better free you then.”

Calling upon his dark gifts, he thrust the hand that held the ‘spirit’ towards the piece of metal, the spirit passing through and into the plate. The white glow settled on the item as a silent scream, felt more than heard, reverberated the armour piece. The spirit was trapped.

A pale arm motioned towards a fallen staff, and soon a bright white light held the other spirits at bay. The encounter had taken its toll on the albino, and it showed in his tattered appearance.

His ‘clone’ supported his weight as they left the forge, locking the door behind them. The rest of the journey out of Kirigakure was painless, the light of the staff keeping the unwanted away.

A crimson gaze fell on the fallen village, once so full of life. Was this how the rest of the world was going to end up? Would Akkuma’s desire for control cause the world to be covered in death? Who was this Akkuma… really?

It was time Myakashi Migoya got answers.

[WC: 1118]
[Mission concluded]

WC:

Part 1 - 1678
Part 2 - 1251 + 668 + 1060 = 2979
Part 3 - 1118