Miko.
It was about 02:00 AM when he woke up, startled by what he thought was just a dream. His palms, shirt, were drenched in sweat; this was the fourth time he woke up in the middle of the night after that incident near the wall. He didn’t give it much importance, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks, yet for some reason he still kept the grey ashes safe in a jar. Miko, deep inside, wanted it to be more than just an illusion, he wanted the experience to be real; he was ready to board his own rollercoaster.
Miko.
There it was, the voice, again, in his mind.
“Who’s there? I can hear you! Show yourself!” – He said, his voice halfway through a whisper and a shout, yet not going off gentle at all. There was no response. Finally there was silence, silence that just made the dark room look creepier than it really was. He looked to his side, just to notice that his brother was gone. The absence of his brother in a night such as this got him to his feet and, before he realized, he was at the door.
He opened the door; there was not a soul in the hallway. He stepped outside, the grim darkness just served to get his mind worked up. All sorts of monsters, all sorts of dangers could be dwelling in the darkness of the house. He had to get out quick, and quietly. Even though his brother was missing, he didn’t feel like it was mandatory to look for him, he couldn’t sleep, and he just wanted to take a walk through the park. As always, he left his house in the middle of the night and went outside.
It had been about a week since his mother, father, and brother arrived to the village. At first, he wanted to see them, he missed them badly, but with each day that attraction turned into more of a depressive magnetism. Miko remembered the past, he remembered how his brother mocked him, and he joined the kids in the block to pull pranks on him; he couldn’t forget, and he didn’t want to. There was no reason to forget, they did wrong, and everyone eventually pays for their wrongdoings.
About four days had passed since his father’s death, yet he was not grieving. His mother was, Jun was, but for some reason Miko and Shinji weren’t. Not that he felt his father deserved it, Miko loved his father; yet for some reason the emotion of sadness couldn’t make its way to his heart. Shinji, on the other hand, seemed to be celebrating that his becoming a shinobi and learning the chakra arts could finally go public; there was nothing his mother could do.
Miko was nearing the park when he heard it again, his name ringing in his mind like the seconds in an old clock.
Miko, Miko, Miko, Miko.
It disturbed him, it annoyed him, maddened him, it was like a thousand demons were chanting his name. Why would they?
How dare they?
Miko.
Miko.
Miko.
Miko.
“The name, again, why are they calling my name? I hate it, I hate the sound of that name, it is disgracing, it reminds me of all its wretchedness, it reminds me of him. The white haired boy, he did this to me, he tainted my hands of red. I hate him.” – Miko woke up in dark room. He had not the slightest idea of where he was, the place was pitch black, he couldn’t see anything, but he could hear, and he could feel. He could hear the sound of breathing, nearly escaping his senses, but it was there. He could feel the air exhaled from their mouths, from their noses. He could feel leather bands tied around his wrists, burning them as he struggled to get free. He could feel the bands pressing against his feet, his waist, his neck; they were choking him. He couldn’t speak.
Miko.
Again. His name. Why were they calling his name? “Why? Why? Why? Why is this happening to me? Why?” - It was going to happen again, he was coming out. The white haired boy.
Miko.
He woke up. Instead of darkness, there was light. Instead of solitude, he was accompanied by his brother and two strangers.
“Who are you? Where am I?” – Miko nearly yelled. His eyes were still adjusting to the light.
“You are not the one that’s going to ask the questions Miko, now shut up and listen!” – His brother yelled. He was frustrated. There was something wrong about him, about his eyes… the Sharingan. He was followed by a cloaked man.
“Do you know who you are?”
“Let me go! I want to get out of here!” – His eyes darted through the room, trying to inspect all corners for more people. He felt naked, he felt like there was nothing he could do. His hands started burning, his feet, his body; he was consumed in flames, real flames. His chakra went live, it was unstable and explosive, but he managed to control it as he was engulfed in his own fire armor. The leather bands resisted.
“Do you know who you are?” – The cloaked man repeated calmly. The leather bands were not burning, he couldn’t get out, there was no way out of this, he gave up.
“I’m Tanaka Miko. Brother of Tanaka Jun, son of Tanaka Miyo and Nobuo.”
“No. Your name is Dekomori Miko. You are a Dekomori, not a Tanaka.” - Dekomori was his father's clan name.
One hour passed, and the man kept repeating the same question. Who are you? Miko kept repeating the same answer. Tanaka Miko. Incorrect, always; but the man kept his patience and kept asking. Until…
“Who are you?” – said the cloaked man.
“My name is Dekomori Miko.” – Miko finally replied. “And if you don’t let me out of
this Genjutsu, I’ll get out myself… and it won’t be pretty.” – he said, closing his eyes.
Everything went back to normal. He was no longer bound by the leather bands.
“I expected nothing less from you. You are in Kumogakure’s Dekomori Clan complex.”
“The Dekomori’s clan complex is located in the land of fire.”
“That’s what Nobuo wanted you to believe.” – The man started, and followed with a long explanation of how the Dekomori came to be. The Dekomori date back to the days of old, when the spirit war was still raging in the world of the living. Faced by oblivion, they pleaded for help, and a single spirit came to their aid, Kaishogai the spirit of chance. Of course, it was in this particular spirit’s nature to leave them alone to their luck, but during that time, there was a bigger power surging through that spirit’s mind, the power of greed and opportunity. In a fascinating turn of events, the spirit offered to hide the clan from further abuse under one condition: they were to offer him their freedom of choice.
Little did the members of the Dekomori clan know that the supposed aid was more of a curse, and so bound to the chains of their new destiny, they each had become warped in-between reality and illusion, losing the ability to differentiate one from the other. Nevertheless, they honored the contract by conquering lands far and wide and building shrines for the spirits here and there. Soon, though, they were overpowered from within, and members started to drift away from their war-driven destiny, until the clan broke apart entirely.
In present day, the two branches remain, one which eventually moved to the outsides of the fire country in hopes of peace, and one who, in contrast lives in secret throughout the many hidden villages in the continent. The second branch, the true Dekomori, and keepers of the secret technique, are slowly growing by adding more and more shinobi to their ranks. Still bound by the chains of their ancient curse, they have administered the church of nine in secrecy… but soon enough as the old man stated – the Dekomori shall rise again.
Kaoshogai.
The name echoed through Miko mind. He had met him once, he had talked to his so called avatar. Perhaps what the old man said was not entirely a lie… he had already lived the lie. Miko sat up.
“All these days, they have lied to me… they forced me to be something I was not. They pushed me away from the truth by feeding me more and more lies.” – a tear went down his eye. He wasn't sure if their words were true. He didn't know if his past was truth or lies. He looked at his brother, who was wearing a plain face, his eyes fixated on Miko, the Sharingan targeting him.
Once again, he was looked down in disgrace.
“How did you get those eyes?” – he directed the question to Shinji. His brother smiled.
“How do you think? Someone had to do it… someone had to dispose of the traitors. We are the true Dekomori after all.” – his brother responded.
Miko looked at the cloaked man and his companion, their eyes were hidden. He had read about them somewhere, the cursed eyes of the Uchiha. He knew what his brother had meant... His brother wanted to rid the clan of all impurity… but really, he was the only impurity to be ridden off.
He hated him. All the grim memories went back to him, all at the same time, they were overwhelming, they were going to overtake him. He was coming out, again… the white haired boy.
Miko woke up. He was lying at the park, only wearing a pair of shorts and a plain black shirt. There was blood in his hands; the smell of powder was rich in the air. The floor had been scarred with explosions, and his brother’s body in the ground. His eyes were burned, black, the Sharingan was no more.
He was alone, yet he didn't feel alone anymore... he was enlightened.
It was about 02:00 AM when he woke up, startled by what he thought was just a dream. His palms, shirt, were drenched in sweat; this was the fourth time he woke up in the middle of the night after that incident near the wall. He didn’t give it much importance, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks, yet for some reason he still kept the grey ashes safe in a jar. Miko, deep inside, wanted it to be more than just an illusion, he wanted the experience to be real; he was ready to board his own rollercoaster.
Miko.
There it was, the voice, again, in his mind.
“Who’s there? I can hear you! Show yourself!” – He said, his voice halfway through a whisper and a shout, yet not going off gentle at all. There was no response. Finally there was silence, silence that just made the dark room look creepier than it really was. He looked to his side, just to notice that his brother was gone. The absence of his brother in a night such as this got him to his feet and, before he realized, he was at the door.
He opened the door; there was not a soul in the hallway. He stepped outside, the grim darkness just served to get his mind worked up. All sorts of monsters, all sorts of dangers could be dwelling in the darkness of the house. He had to get out quick, and quietly. Even though his brother was missing, he didn’t feel like it was mandatory to look for him, he couldn’t sleep, and he just wanted to take a walk through the park. As always, he left his house in the middle of the night and went outside.
It had been about a week since his mother, father, and brother arrived to the village. At first, he wanted to see them, he missed them badly, but with each day that attraction turned into more of a depressive magnetism. Miko remembered the past, he remembered how his brother mocked him, and he joined the kids in the block to pull pranks on him; he couldn’t forget, and he didn’t want to. There was no reason to forget, they did wrong, and everyone eventually pays for their wrongdoings.
About four days had passed since his father’s death, yet he was not grieving. His mother was, Jun was, but for some reason Miko and Shinji weren’t. Not that he felt his father deserved it, Miko loved his father; yet for some reason the emotion of sadness couldn’t make its way to his heart. Shinji, on the other hand, seemed to be celebrating that his becoming a shinobi and learning the chakra arts could finally go public; there was nothing his mother could do.
Miko was nearing the park when he heard it again, his name ringing in his mind like the seconds in an old clock.
Miko, Miko, Miko, Miko.
It disturbed him, it annoyed him, maddened him, it was like a thousand demons were chanting his name. Why would they?
How dare they?
His world went dark.
Miko.
Miko.
Miko.
Miko.
“The name, again, why are they calling my name? I hate it, I hate the sound of that name, it is disgracing, it reminds me of all its wretchedness, it reminds me of him. The white haired boy, he did this to me, he tainted my hands of red. I hate him.” – Miko woke up in dark room. He had not the slightest idea of where he was, the place was pitch black, he couldn’t see anything, but he could hear, and he could feel. He could hear the sound of breathing, nearly escaping his senses, but it was there. He could feel the air exhaled from their mouths, from their noses. He could feel leather bands tied around his wrists, burning them as he struggled to get free. He could feel the bands pressing against his feet, his waist, his neck; they were choking him. He couldn’t speak.
Miko.
Again. His name. Why were they calling his name? “Why? Why? Why? Why is this happening to me? Why?” - It was going to happen again, he was coming out. The white haired boy.
His world went dark.
Miko.
He woke up. Instead of darkness, there was light. Instead of solitude, he was accompanied by his brother and two strangers.
“Who are you? Where am I?” – Miko nearly yelled. His eyes were still adjusting to the light.
“You are not the one that’s going to ask the questions Miko, now shut up and listen!” – His brother yelled. He was frustrated. There was something wrong about him, about his eyes… the Sharingan. He was followed by a cloaked man.
“Do you know who you are?”
“Let me go! I want to get out of here!” – His eyes darted through the room, trying to inspect all corners for more people. He felt naked, he felt like there was nothing he could do. His hands started burning, his feet, his body; he was consumed in flames, real flames. His chakra went live, it was unstable and explosive, but he managed to control it as he was engulfed in his own fire armor. The leather bands resisted.
“Do you know who you are?” – The cloaked man repeated calmly. The leather bands were not burning, he couldn’t get out, there was no way out of this, he gave up.
“I’m Tanaka Miko. Brother of Tanaka Jun, son of Tanaka Miyo and Nobuo.”
“No. Your name is Dekomori Miko. You are a Dekomori, not a Tanaka.” - Dekomori was his father's clan name.
One hour passed, and the man kept repeating the same question. Who are you? Miko kept repeating the same answer. Tanaka Miko. Incorrect, always; but the man kept his patience and kept asking. Until…
“Who are you?” – said the cloaked man.
“My name is Dekomori Miko.” – Miko finally replied. “And if you don’t let me out of
this Genjutsu, I’ll get out myself… and it won’t be pretty.” – he said, closing his eyes.
Everything went back to normal. He was no longer bound by the leather bands.
“I expected nothing less from you. You are in Kumogakure’s Dekomori Clan complex.”
“The Dekomori’s clan complex is located in the land of fire.”
“That’s what Nobuo wanted you to believe.” – The man started, and followed with a long explanation of how the Dekomori came to be. The Dekomori date back to the days of old, when the spirit war was still raging in the world of the living. Faced by oblivion, they pleaded for help, and a single spirit came to their aid, Kaishogai the spirit of chance. Of course, it was in this particular spirit’s nature to leave them alone to their luck, but during that time, there was a bigger power surging through that spirit’s mind, the power of greed and opportunity. In a fascinating turn of events, the spirit offered to hide the clan from further abuse under one condition: they were to offer him their freedom of choice.
Little did the members of the Dekomori clan know that the supposed aid was more of a curse, and so bound to the chains of their new destiny, they each had become warped in-between reality and illusion, losing the ability to differentiate one from the other. Nevertheless, they honored the contract by conquering lands far and wide and building shrines for the spirits here and there. Soon, though, they were overpowered from within, and members started to drift away from their war-driven destiny, until the clan broke apart entirely.
In present day, the two branches remain, one which eventually moved to the outsides of the fire country in hopes of peace, and one who, in contrast lives in secret throughout the many hidden villages in the continent. The second branch, the true Dekomori, and keepers of the secret technique, are slowly growing by adding more and more shinobi to their ranks. Still bound by the chains of their ancient curse, they have administered the church of nine in secrecy… but soon enough as the old man stated – the Dekomori shall rise again.
Kaoshogai.
The name echoed through Miko mind. He had met him once, he had talked to his so called avatar. Perhaps what the old man said was not entirely a lie… he had already lived the lie. Miko sat up.
“All these days, they have lied to me… they forced me to be something I was not. They pushed me away from the truth by feeding me more and more lies.” – a tear went down his eye. He wasn't sure if their words were true. He didn't know if his past was truth or lies. He looked at his brother, who was wearing a plain face, his eyes fixated on Miko, the Sharingan targeting him.
Once again, he was looked down in disgrace.
“How did you get those eyes?” – he directed the question to Shinji. His brother smiled.
“How do you think? Someone had to do it… someone had to dispose of the traitors. We are the true Dekomori after all.” – his brother responded.
Miko looked at the cloaked man and his companion, their eyes were hidden. He had read about them somewhere, the cursed eyes of the Uchiha. He knew what his brother had meant... His brother wanted to rid the clan of all impurity… but really, he was the only impurity to be ridden off.
He hated him. All the grim memories went back to him, all at the same time, they were overwhelming, they were going to overtake him. He was coming out, again… the white haired boy.
His world went dark.
Miko woke up. He was lying at the park, only wearing a pair of shorts and a plain black shirt. There was blood in his hands; the smell of powder was rich in the air. The floor had been scarred with explosions, and his brother’s body in the ground. His eyes were burned, black, the Sharingan was no more.
He was alone, yet he didn't feel alone anymore... he was enlightened.
"I – am – Dekomori."