The birth of Yamigakure.

[Myakashi Migoya]

​

The branch felt warm and alive under his touch, giving him a measure of warmth against the frigid rain that pelted down against the side of the mountain. A vicious storm raged ahead, the strongest Migoya had seen in his 90 years of life, as if Raijin and Susanoo were in direct conflict. The sky lit up with brilliant flashes of lightning, casting wide shadows around the new Myakashi compound.

Little ‘Yamigakure’, Grandmother had dubbed it. The village hidden in the darkness.

It would never be a large village indeed, nor known to the outside world at large, but to those that needed to know this would be the place that they could come to obtain assistance. Help.

Assassinations.

Members of his clan, few in number, had arrived during the evening bringing with them - or so it seemed - this vicious storm as if the mountain was either greeting them, or raging in protest at their presence. 34 souls in total, including ‘Grandmother’ Myakashi, several children, four renegade shinobi that Migoya had broken out of jail previously, and various skilled craftsmen. The Myakashi were a clan of societal rejects, but together they were a serious force. A skilled force. A deadly force.

For who expected the cleaner to have such skill?

It had not taken long for them to settle in and to start fires in their new homes to push away the chill in the air. The smell of roasting goat filtered through the village along with a strange lamenting song sung accompanied by an old bita. That would be Karanuishi, Migoya mused to himself, a small smile playing on his lips. He longed for the moment that she, along with Yong, would raise a song together to celebrate the survival of the Myakashi clan.

But for now, they needed to continue to rebuild and solidify their presence here on the mountain. His brothers had yet to arrive, a wise diversionary tactic to stop pursuers from arriving here at Yamigakure, but soon they would arrive. Once they were here the next stages of Migoya’s plans could start to form - plans that did not need Migoya’s presence here. For the first time in almost two generations Myakashi Migoya would not need to be responsible for others. They had been trained and were highly skilled. It was time for the fisherman to give the proverbial fishing rod to another person.

Promises had been made to the political power of the Land of Moon - the Shrine. Promises that included running less than holy missions in their employ, but soon their services would be available country-wide. All that was needed was contacts, and for that to happen he would need to establish them.

But for now his seeds had grown fruit and his family would be fed.

Yamigakure was born.

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

The heavy blow sent the child sprawling, spinning over the rocky ground. She struggled to push herself up from the paved fresco, her arms weak from strain as she turned to face her attacker, her tears blinding her.

"Focus Hana."

Another vicious blow landed on the girls midriff, sending her several meters off the ground, only to unceremoniously return once again to the paved training ground. Her ribs were screaming out in pain, but for the girl the pain was not physical. All challenges were in the mind, and although she was being attacked it was to teach her a valuable lesson.

She staggered upwards, swaying as an injured person would. The figure leapt forward for another vicious kick, only for Hana to accept the blow, darting with unnatural speed towards another figure and striking out at him. Her hands almost hit him before an unseen barrier stopped the blow mere millimeters from what was now a smirking face.

"Excellent Hana-kun. The only time we appear weak is when we want our opponents to think us so and therefore strike foolishly." Robed arms embraced the small girl with affection as healing chakra would be poured into her. Migoya kissed the top of his grand-daughters head, recalling the puppet he had been training her against. "You are going to be a fine kunoichi. Keep training my love," he said as he ruffled her long, black hair affectionately knowing that it annoyed her. The small girl returned his smirk before kissing her grandfather on the cheek, even though he certainly didn't look like an old man!

"Ill get you one day Sofu."

Migoya gave a wide smile. "I do not doubt it!" He watched as one of his precious treasures ran away, probably to torment someone else, and was ever so glad that she had made it here to Yamigakure. His clan would ensure they were trained properly, with love, guidance, patience and punishment, and would ensure that they grew into strong and adaptable shinobi.

Perhaps the Will of Fire just needed a new place to reignite.

[MFT - WC 343]

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

Shhh… I can hear something.

Migoya stopped, pressing himself against the hewn stone wall and slowly crouching down to make himself difficult to spot. His hands slowly raised in front of his body, ready to defend himself if needed.

He had heard the noise himself and knew it was not a member of his family. Random animals had strayed into these shafts in the last century or so, certainly, as could be seen by the long-bleached bones of what appeared to be mountain goats, or the occasional predator, but they were long dead. No - something else was down here.

This… this doesn’t feel right. I don’t think it’s natural, Mikki ‘impressed’ upon Migoya, the small Tsukumogami clearly worried about whatever it was down here in the upper mines of Mt Tsukiakari. Migoya nodded slowly, knowing that his own voice would echo down these corridors. Instead he started to ‘sign’ with one hand - a communications technique taught to all Myakashi clan members.

No sound. Movement. Hot - strange? Go back.

The puppet slowly nodded, uncharacteristically concerned. Yeah. We should head out.

The pair silently crept back up the long-abandoned mine shaft, walking past discarded tools and equipment that seemed to have been cast to the ground as the miners had fled from something. Small veins of gold could still be seen in the dim light that Migoya now produced - clearly something went wrong here so many years ago.

It was obvious that ‘Yamigakure’ was haunted. Random movements, sounds, screams - they all seemed to focus on the haunted monastery. Information had been scarce but apparently the previous inhabitants, monks, had displeased a group who had subsequently slaughtered them. A curse had been placed on the building, and since that time no-one wanted to have anything to do with the place. The population of Suta regarded the place as an anathema, and found the new Myakashi clan members extremely odd for living there. Prices tended to be higher for them, and the casual chit-chat normally found amongst villagers was rare towards the shadowy clan.

But the mine was even older still that the external monastery and shrine, and although the monks had carved out recesses for housing, storage, and other uses the gold in the mine still existed but was untouched. Why? That was a mystery that needed to be solved.

Half and hour later Migoya and Mikki walked out into the bright light of the day. Migoya loathed the sun, but travelling in what appeared to be a haunted mine at night was something that even he wouldn’t tempt fate with. His hand raised to block out the unwelcome beams that stung his pure-white skin.

“We really need to figure out what is going on around this place,” Migoya mused. “Its clear there is spiritual residue or… something else at work here. Whilst it hasn’t caused direct harm to anyone, perhaps… well, lets hope it doesn’t become nasty.”

Yeah. Whatevers in that mine is pretty nasty. Maybe it’s a big demon with a sword and a whip made out of fire! And we can yell ‘you shall not pass’ or something and… yeah!

“Or maybe there is a ventilation shaft over a magma-based core that’s causing the heat and the strange sounds as hot air escapes through the mine shaft.”

My explanation is better, and more likely.

“Probably.” Migoya muttered under his breath. Mikki looked towards the young man, obviously curious at how easily he had won an argument against the strange guy. Normally there would be heated debate with Migoya choosing logic and manipulative reasoning over Mikki’s nonsensical blabber intended to annoy.

Yer worried about it, I can tell. The spirits around here aren’t too happy - some of them are Tsukumogami and, well, aint that bright. The others are… angry. Not towards us, but angry about what was done to them. They don’t want to talk to me - rude jerks - but.. I dunno

Migoya stroked his chin, deep in thought. “We need to find a way to appease them. We need someone who is a ghost walker, or one of that particular bloodline.. The... Tsuchimikado. They tend to know how to get rid of unhappy spirits.”

Where are you going to find one of them?

Migoya looked up towards the horizon, over the verdant tropical jungles, and its adjoining blue seas. He knew he did not want to answer that question aloud for the weight of those words would once again put yet another burden on his shoulders. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Another shinobi village.”

[MFT - WC: 771]

 

[Myakashi Migoya]

Shadows danced around the stone dwelling, flicking as the candlelight was played with by the wind. Outside a raging storm rumbled, the sky scarred with lightning and the booming sounds of thunder reminded the small clan that they were not in Leaf Country anymore.

The sounds of polite banter could be heard as the various Myakashi members dried off from their evening training. Rain or not, the Myakashi trained regularly, perfecting their own brand of fighting. Every weapons needed to be sharp in order to be effective, and right now they needed all the weapons they could get. Hyunae was sharpening her kunai, the scraping sound adding a measure of beat to the evening, as the others started to eat their simple fare.

The wooden door opened slowly, the faces of the Myakashi naturally drawn to the opening quickly, ready to defend themselves. A smallish man walked in, holding a wooden staff in what appeared to be a blackened hand. “Shes a beauty out there. The herd is in the cavern, all safe and accounted for.” A bowl of stew was handed to the man as he removed his cloak and took a place by the fire.

“And the perimeter defenses?”

“The eyes are up and the bridge has been drawn in.”

“Thank you. Its nights like these that we need to be the most vigilant.”

Migoya sat quietly in the corner of the room, the simple wooden stool supporting his lithe frame. Mikki was playing in front of him, rolling on the ground with what appeared to be a bone helmet. A pale hand stroked the soft fur of a strange fox-like creature who rested comfortably on his lap.

“We have managed to solidify our presence here for the time being. We have access to food and water, have relations with the villagers, and can defend ourselves against any but the gravest threats. The problem is, we should be expecting an attack. Takeshi is too prideful to let us leave without a proper fight, yet I do not want you to be in danger.”

“Pfft. Let him come here and find out.”

Migoya gave a small smile. “I admire your courage, but I don’t want to risk it. No - I am the target, as is Doku, as is Hisao. Once we have ensured this place is unassailable, I think its best if we…”

“No. It not always about you Migoya-kun.”

A elderly lady appeared, holding forth a bowl of stew towards the young man. “We are here because we want to be. We protect ourselves and each other - it is the Myakashi way. This is our home now, and is your home.”

Reaching out Migoya took the stew, looking into the face of ‘Grandmother Myakashi’. She was a wise old beast that one. He didn't need to eat of course, but the simple act of doing it was somehow soothing, bringing him back to reality so to speak.

“Grandmother. Thank you… but there is much this world needs to learn. Others will come, they will try and kill us as they have tried many times before. They will learn that to fight one of us is to face a wave - a wave that I need to bolster.”

He had asked for too much from too many. Doku and Hisao had given up everything for what the Myakashi believed in, and it would be unfair to continue to burden them. No... if the truth about this world, the hypocrisy, lies and deceit were to be seen, it would take more than just this rag tag bunch of misfits. No - what was needed was a spark to turn into a flame.

A single flame to start a fire, and that fire to burn the lot down.

[MFT: 545]