The Deepest Dungeon [Private]

[Sand Council]

Private Thread for: ROKU

How long ago did Taro fall victim to the deviant hand of Sunagakure? Six months ago? A year? Likely more. It was hard to keep track of the passage of time in the darkness. Yes, it was indeed dark in here, the structure made his body ache. He knew exactly where he was -- the Obsidian Palace. Taro was too young to remember the construction of such a dire structure and he was too poor to be afforded a history lesson during his less than innocent youth. The Obsidian was the jail structure in Sunagakure presently but the structure predated Sunagakure by a millennia at least, its original use forgotten. At least that was what the public knew, he knew better. He knew that something was in here and that it was rather ironic that he, the man chained to the wall had them right where he wanted them.

Taro woke today as he had many times before. He let out a wide yawn, his shackled arms pulled against his restraints and the very tethers that bound him groaned. The room was unlit but his eyes had become used to the darkness, it reminded him of his youth in the pit. He could see the rats scurry, they were both his confidants, watchers and lifesblood. A rat would eventually wander too close, there was always one that was dumb enough to do so. He would snatch the dirty, squealing vermin and draw the wiggling beast to his open maw. Head first the rat would be shoved into his open, waiting maw and his teeth would come down on the unfortunate creature. The squealing would be no more. Taro's mouth would fill with hot, metallic blood. The blood would drip from the corner of his mouth as the still wiggling, writing remains of the half-eaten rat were shoved into the Sovereign's gullet. The rats family was watching this, the end of one of their own. They would understand of course, rats were one of the many creatures in that hungered for meat, be it one of their own or the Sovereigns. It was not that they had not tried, it was just that each time one had they became a meal.

 

[Raizo]

Unlike a normal day where some of the most prized prisoners of the Obsidian were left to rot in silence and emptiness, today there would be a visitor. Upon both sides of this guest were two ANBU, Usagi (NPC ANBU) and Maniac and behind the figure was what appeared to be Tenken, on of the leaders of the current ANBU regime (ANBU NPC Glutton wearing Roku's ANBU attire). The man in the middle of this triangle was one of the current Sennin, Roku. Usually his out of mask persona was a thrilling seeking, fight hungry man of many earthly vices. Today his expression was stern. Upon his mind was a serious matter that needed to finally be addressed.

"Y'all better watch out for me, kind of a big deal..."

The trio walking with him would not break character. While this was the first time he had asked them to perform in this manner, and was the first time he had asked Gluttony to dress up as his Tenken persona, they would not find it odd to see their leader acting in such a goofy manner. They were hand-picked by Tenken and the closer to his inner circle the three of them had gotten, the more they learned about the maskless alter-ego of his. They never referred to Tenken as Roku, and they had very quickly learned that their leader's odd penchant for treating his two identities as separate people was something he held very seriously.

Approaching the cell of Taro, the tiny framed Usagi would open the door and step aside.

"Sennin Roku, because of your status you get this special treatment... don't be stupid."

That's my girl, never taking it easy on me.

"Understood."

"We will remain outside of the cell, respecting your wishes, but should something go wrong you may die in that cell. I know you are aware of this, but just wanted to make sure since I don't plan on rushing in there, big guy."

The short, stocky man with the stitched together mask, Maniac, would provide the parting message before they awaited the Sennin's next move.

With a short sigh and hesitant smirk, he would nod and enter the cell. The door behind him would shut but the light within the room would suddenly illuminate. Out of the darkness the man shackled to the wall and the man standing freely would now be able to clearly see one another. This meeting was one that needed to happen, the had to happen. From their first meeting to their unfortunate last meeting, Roku had always felt a strong bond towards the man known as Taro. They had shared booze, they had shared blows... and now they shared a cell. Many times before he had entered this sort of situation in a mask and with tools. Today he came empty handed and with his real face.

"Taro, do you know why I am here?"

He did not expect a warm greeting, nor would he be surprised if by this point he had been shouted at for the past several minutes. Either way, this meeting had to happen.


MFT - 519 words

 

[Michi]

Hunger. He knew hunger well, they had kept each other company since the womb. Few knew the true origin or even the true name of Oogami Taro, even he was not entirely certain as legend and myth became his legacy. His first kill was the day he was born, yes it was a bit cliché to say that he killed the woman that brought him into the world but it was true. He was born on a dusty morning in the midst of the maelstrom that had plagued this country for years. His people were nomads, one of the few tribes that survived the storm. It was not the birthing pains that killed her, it was her tribe. What she bore into this world was a monster. Did she know what she would bear? No, it was an old bloodline that heralded back to the first days. At some point in his genealogy a Kirishii gladiator was his predecessor. The tribe was superstitious and saw the outset of this new life as an omen of terrible days ahead, worse than the diamond sands that plagued them.

She tried to run but she would not get far. He was only hours old when he mother was slaughtered, too young to recall if he saw her last breath. As for him, their intention was to leave him -- to allow the desert to take back the demon it had birthed. But he survived. Did he contest all odds and survive without his mother's milk and his people shielding him from the elements? No, he survived because he was lucky, nothing more. 'Luck' being relative of course. His people were gypsies, a people who rarely made a fair wage. They used cards to tell futures, flames to see days past, blood scrying to find what was lost. Some were crafters, claiming a gem would cure an ailment and if not that they had a potion that would, for a price. It was a con. It was always a lie with rare exception. It could be argued that a few had true power and that their power gave the rest legitimacy but it did not matter because his life was saved by a lie.

They sold him -- the gilded infant. It was astonishing what a wealthy person was willing to purchase but with the exorbitant wealth of the merchant lords of Soons and the controlling parties of Sora. What lies did they tell to sell the boy? Hard to say but there were a few words that were used to describe the child -- great being one of them. He was a novelty, not a child. Not a human. He was treated as such, like a circus freak or a bizarre collectible one would share at gatherings. Still, he was able to live, he was able to grow and he was able to learn. He would have probably lived there still had the old man lived. He did not kill him, he was only six or seven -- hard to say because nobody had ever celebrated his birthday. He liked to think it was in October, the air was cooler then and it felt nice. There was a secret war, the land owners were being ousted one by one. Those who failed to comply often suffered from a 'accident' of sorts. Yes, Taro was a bagatelle of the former Diamyo of Sora. The Diamyo died in his sleep, Taro was to be sold off along with the late Diamyo's other possessions. Yes, he was considered an object, not a young boy.

He would go to the highest bidder. He would have but he ran. To the streets of Sora he would hide, he would live off scraps and he would learn what it was lie to be hungry. How to survive despite looking and being different. He would see people worse off than him. He did not see himself despite his strange appearance as aberrant, he gleamed in the morning sun and he was stronger than the other boys his age. He did not bleed as easily. He saw himself as perhaps a little better and if not 'better' than just well off in comparison. He wanted to defend others, to be the gleaming hero he saw himself as so he did or he tried. Sometimes he would succeed, other times he would know what it was like to have broken flesh. It took a lot but metal is brittle and with enough force even gold will crack. He would survive on the streets but not for very long, not before Nao's men had found them. The Soverign was far from in its infancy at the time, it ran on several simple principles but the most important one was the fact that the public believed them when they said what they were. The Soverign Academy was a place for the disadvantaged and the disenfranchised youth. They were the benevolent benefactors of this country. Few had reason or cared to wonder why so few children became a part of their army in the end. Nobody ever seemed to ask: what happened to the rest? The children were irrelevant to them but at the very least out of the way, nobody wanted to dig deeper, to betray the notion that they were allowing or even assisting in something 'good' for the community.

He would grow up in the Soverign Academy. His playroom was similar, even had the same fetters with heavy chains. They seemed bigger back then with his tiny noodle arms and hungry concave belly. He would sometimes be alone. He would sometimes have company. Here he was almost always alone but every once in awhile he would have a visitor. Someone who wanted to play. Playtime hurt. It did then and it did now. He knew how this went of course, you had to outlive them. You had to make sure that it was not fun. Surviving was never 'fun', not for him and not for them. He reviled his existence because it only knew of emptiness and pain much like now. He had considered during his long incarceration taking his own life. He had considered it back then as well, as a fearful child. He did not feel fear now, only anger and spite. It was the result of being a caged animal. Of being a neglected specimen. A forgotten wonder.

He was not going to give them the satisfaction... the 'fun' of dying. He refused to cry as a child after he learned that it was funny to hear him plead, so even now he refused to scream. His will would not keep him alive forever and he knew it. He could feel his body slowing, it was decomposing. The rot and the filth of a cell belonging to a forgotten man left here for how long? Months? Years? The rats did not make great company, they nibbled at his flesh with their disease-ridden maws. He could feel the fevers off and on. He consumed them, those that drew too near, it was enough to sustain him but not maintain him. He was a shriveled version of himself. Thin and wiry. His shirt had long ago rotted away, leaving only a threadbare almost not there tunic that would not block the chill. His flesh was pale, his ribs exposed, his clavicle and sternum jutting outward, his cheeks concave. The shackles about his wrists were loose, too loose truly. Well, almost loose enough. They rattled like bangles, leaving bruises as they moved roughly about abrading his dry, paper-thin flesh.

He could hear footsteps. They were getting louder and there was more than one. It was rare... rare that he got visitors. Another beating so soon? Perhaps enough time had passed. There was no way for him to know, there was no way to count the days, the passage of night into day or the change of seasons except for the hints or perhaps lies he was told by his captors. Some felt great joy in pulling away what grip remained on his reality.

He would hear voices. One... Two... Three...

Three this time. That was new. Often it was just one, maybe two. A witness to record his suffering perhaps for posterity. He would test the cuffs about his wrists. Was it time? Was he free? Would the bangle slide over this thin thumb? No, not yet. His legs were already free, they had been for some time, he had lost his mass first from his legs, he rarely used them in here. His knobby knees the site of the greatest diameter on his lower limbs, he knelt onto the ground. It made the impact of falling over less than if he stood. His wounds had not yet healed from his last lashing, perhaps his healing was slowing. This golden frame abraded and bruised, cut with deep welts in the few places where his flesh was not cut through.

He might have been afraid of what was to come, it as natural to fear death and pain. A biological imperative an Oracle had once told him. She was a weird lady, too bad she had to die.

The tumblers would rattle and the deadbolt would slide with a reverberating snap. The world seemed to slow at these moments, these times when he wished his life would just speed up. He would control his breathing as the door opened, control his expression. It was blank as he stared forward. It was hard to see as a dim light that seemed blinding to a man that lived in darkness to endure. He would squint, only seeing a silhouette as one of the three entered. He could see the outlines of the others, they were not as tall. One thinner, feminine. The other a stocky build. His addled mind did not know nor did he care who they were.

The room itself would turn on, the pain of the brightness was searing. Taro's form, or rather what was left of it revealed. Kneeling on the ground, his head already lowered to preserve his neck from an easy, damaging blow was a man Roku once knew. Taro closed his eyes once the lights came, he did not need to see his face. There was always a mask. They always hid behind something. He would let out a sigh, his shoulders would heave. His spine visible with his movements under a thin veil of bruised gilded flesh that looked more like copper than gold from the bruising. His long, limb, stringy hair hid his face, it had grown a great deal since their last encounter. "Just get this over with," a dry, raspy voice that seemed unaccustomed to speaking announced with a hacking cough that seemed to rattle his feeble form.

"Taro, do you know why I am here?"

He recognized the voice, but where? With a groan he would lift his head, the vertebrae in his neck would pop and click in a cacophony of noise as he endeavored to crane his visage upward. His eyes, they were sallow without a glimmer. Did they ever shine? Ringed with dark circles of brass the jaundice was hardly noticeable but the iris was more noticeable. His eyes looked alien, not that the rest of him looked human any longer. It was the one thing that remained beautiful, like a pair of sapphire jewels set into the stature of a dying man. "Do... I... know you?" He asked through chapped lips. The voice was the same, but the face was not. Roku was a man of many faces. A lonesome existence surely. A new man, at least his visage every few months of years. His skills would also radically change, making him something different or perhaps entirely new. "No-- impossible," he reasoned as if he was discussing the notion with a third party that only he could see. Perhaps he was delirious. "Not the same... never the same... Not different either... How would we know? How would you know?" His gaze would drop again, he would look towards the floor.

"A phantom here to finish what was already started," Taro concluded. "I am not afraid," he lied. he was full of fear but also hope, hope that this time he might die. His will would not allow it but the pain was constant these days. The gnawing hunger punctuated not by his slow starvation but also the draining force of the beast below, of Juu's persistence and of course his hybrid nature. He was at death's gates but the door would not open. "I do have one request of course. Something I have always wanted to know... Why?"

 

[Michi]

Bump?

 

[Raizo]

(Place holder...not forgotten, but yea...I suck v_v)

 

[Raizo]

"A phantom... seems a bit over dramatic."

He understood it, however. For Taro, the person standing before him probably was nothing more than the ghost of a past figure in his life. It was unfortunate. All of this was unfortunate. The captured man would then ask him what he was wishing he wouldn't; why. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer, it was that he couldn't. So instead, he would proceed with the reason for why he was there.

"Prisoners asking questions, would the Daimyo listen to such a request?"

It was pointed, it was truthful, and yet, he knew it wasn't necessary.

"I'm sorry. Don't answer, that is not why I am here. I am here, as you could guess, to ask you questions. I am sure you have some belief in your mind, probably have thought about it for awhile now, about this day coming. Maybe not being me, but that eventually someone would come to your cell looking to 'ask' you questions."

Reaching behind his back he would continue as he slowly withdrew something.

"I would be lying to say that I have not developed a skill for entering these rooms, 'asking' questions and getting results. The more I learn, the more I wonder if that was because of my upbringing... was I good at this because someone truly good at it made me experience it first hand? Am I good at hurting things because I was molded through pain myself? The uprbringing I can remember clearly wasn't that way, the people that found me and raised me, they were overall kind.... sorry, again I am talking pointlessly."

There was a sorrow in his voice. He didn't like this. He didn't like any of this. He didn't like it from the point the met in the hole out in the desert. Finally, the object he had taken from behind him would be placed before him. The item would not be a knife, pliers or any other instrument of torture. Instead it would be an apple.

"Eat this, and before you get any dumb ideas..."

He would take a smile bite from the apple before tossing it to Taro.

"...I'd rather die myself than poison a chained up man. You may not believe it, but I have more honor in myself than that."

Allowing the man time to process the food, he would begin his line of questioning after letting Taro either consume or reject the offering.

"Before I answer any question of your's there is something I have to know... in fact before I proceed any further with anything there is something I need to know; what is the last memory you have of me back when I was at the Academy? What was I doing, how did I act, what did I look like... tell me everything you remember of me from the time prior to us running into each other in Soons."

It was time for him to start seeing the past a bit clearer.

MFT - 501 words

 

[Michi]

"Prisoners asking questions, would the Daimyo listen to such a request?"

"You would know as good as I," a voice with the strength of dried leaves would reply.

"I'm sorry. Don't answer, that is not why I am here. I am here, as you could guess, to ask you questions. I am sure you have some belief in your mind, probably have thought about it for awhile now, about this day coming. Maybe not being me, but that eventually someone would come to your cell looking to 'ask' you questions."

"It is always the face that is the most cruel," Taro admitted. His chains restlessly rattled against the floor and the wall as Roku made a movement. He was ready to die but there was a part of him that would always fight. He tensed as Number Six withdrew something, he could not tell what in the darkness. A small, barred window of light only dimly illuminated the space behind him, leaving an outline depicting a large man.

"I would be lying to say that I have not developed a skill for entering these rooms, 'asking' questions and getting results. The more I learn, the more I wonder if that was because of my upbringing... was I good at this because someone truly good at it made me experience it first hand? Am I good at hurting things because I was molded through pain myself? The uprbringing I can remember clearly wasn't that way, the people that found me and raised me, they were overall kind.... sorry, again I am talking pointlessly."

"You can try," Taro resisted. They all resisted, even the cowards at first. It never lasted long before the broke. Before they cried. Before they died.

Roku revealed an apple, the first food item afforded to him since he had been locked away in this cell to starve and of course suffer. Hunger does something to a man, as does loneliness. Taro would know better than most. The walls would whisper and the shadows would reach. The ground would shift and sometimes he was not in the same place he was when he fell asleep. It was not just this place, the Obsidian, but rather something basic and primal about the human mind. It was not meant to be put away in a dark place, forgotten for months or even years. By all accounts he should he been dead, it had been over a year since that door had opened. Taro could not help but salivate, it made what little remained want to shrink away with shame. He was so fucking weak. He wanted to snatch it from the floor, he was biologically driven to want it. He was built to survive but he wanted to die. Foolish though, he feared death as much as he desired it. Death was an opportunity to end this torment, something he had contemplated thousands of times if he did not lack the means. His only option was a slow death, the kind from lack of food or drink, perhaps disease but in a cycle of fear and weakness on his part he broke each and every time and ate another rat, drained it of blood.

He kept living and so he kept suffering.

"You cannot deny your nature, only your allegiances," Taro shook his head and wiped his eyes on his grime-covered shoulder. His voice shuddered as he spoke, he did not approach the fruit despite his want for the partially consumed tidbit. His stomach griped him, he could hear it groan. Why did he have to be so pathetic? So incapable. No use in crying over spilled apples. He was meant to suffer.

"Eat this, and before you get any dumb ideas..."

Roku urged. The apple represented temporary respite, minutes perhaps if he could even stomach it. A gesture to garner his affection. His love. To simply taunt him, the meal would not prolong his miserable existence for long if at all. But to take it, to accept the gesture. To end his suffering for a moment's time. An act of demonstrable vulnerability. An act of dependence, credence. No.

He would take a bite of what little food there was, the chains would rattle. He felt distress. Such feeble will. Such gluttonous urges. Such...

"...I'd rather die myself than poison a chained up man. You may not believe it, but I have more honor in myself than that."

He did not believe him. In fact, he did not care. Poison would be a kindness and if he or they for that matter wanted him dead, it would be a simple matter in his diseased and deplorable state. The apple would be casually tossed in his direction. It would fit the floor, he could hear it and he felt the impact with urgency. It was his apple after all. He rushed after it, fearful that the rats would take the bruised and partially consumed bit of fruit. He was truly no better than a hungry dog as he pursued it. Part of him realized it of course, his debility sickened him. He hated himself for wanting. For pursuing. And now for consuming.

He snatched the apple without a word from the floor, he did not wipe away the grime or the rat shit it had collected as it rolled across the dirty stone floor. He shoved the whole fruit into his jaw, mimicking the matter upon which a snake consumed something too large for its tiny maw. Death would be a kindness. He was emaciated, his tarnished and brassy skin clung tightly to his bones, taught over his shoulder and sunken between his ribs. His vertebrae would be counted with relative ease. As the apple and the rat settled into his stomach, neither truly chewed, a slight bulge could be seen where they settled. The man was truly days from death, not that the Sovereign agent truly understood the depths of his disability at this time as death came for him slowly it would seem.

"Would... it have mattered?" He knew that he was not going to get an answer. Roku had hurt people, those he could overpower. Those who were already overpowered and restrained. That was what an ANBU did in a place like this. "My memory is far from shirt, it is not like I do not know what you are."

"Before I answer any question of your's there is something I have to know... in fact before I proceed any further with anything there is something I need to know; what is the last memory you have of me back when I was at the Academy? What was I doing, how did I act, what did I look like... tell me everything you remember of me from the time prior to us running into each other in Soons."

"Playing games like all the rest," he commented from the back of his cell. "Acting like you do not know. Like you don't remember." There was an audible tone of anger and rejection in his voice as he said that. "You lived like the rest of us and then you ran," he claimed. The years gave him a twisted sense of love, "you abandoned your family. The only people that could love you." There was love among the Sovereign, a sense of kinship and common experience that united them. A part of Roku would know it to be true more than likely. It was a strange eerie sensation he would sometimes feel. Like he was isolated despite being in a room full of people. How he would find himself staring past someone that was trying to have a conversation with him. He would blink back and pretend he knew what was being said, perhaps even unintentionally agree to something he would not have agreed to had he heard. His inability to have a relationship. How he was always so dam angry. "Despite the sick monster that you really are." Taro had receded to the furthest point in his cell, his back to the wall. He slid down onto the floor, his wobbling knobby knees could not bear his weight any longer.

They all had sins to bear, survivors guilt had a new meaning to someone like Taro. To live you had to kill. But the similarities between him and a man like Roku and some of the others ended there, he did not need to kill to live. It was something that separated them so keenly, there was hardly a facet they shared.

What was Taro's crime but that of association? Potentially assault. He could hardly see his fate as being the same one shared by every aggressive man in this village. He remembered the inter-village examinations. What happened to Shichi? The wilds could not take her and she was a self-restrained advocate for non-violence. Then there was Juu, where was she? Was she let starved and isolated for what would have been years in some lonesome cell? How about the storm itself, the 'natural' disaster that separated Sunagakure from the civilians in their hour of need. Where were they? They turned the Oracle into a traitor or perhaps she was simply dead, Six had nothing to report. Of course he did not know the whole story, how could he? Sunagakure was filled with unrestrained psychopaths and sycophants. Cannibals, demons, even Ancients who only a few centuries ago had subjugated every free man, woman and child in Wind Country. He saw the community as one of monsters. His incarceration did nothing to sway his opinion. Was the Diamyo and Nao innocent in all of this, no but comparatively from where he was sitting he saw his abused childhood as a terrible yet necessary measure to find power and to stop this hidden village's tyranny. He did not know that Nao was behind the storm, but he knew that it was Daisuke's power that maintained the maelstrom. He did not know that Six had tried to burn Fuu alive, that he was sent to kill her. The question was, would knowing either of these things change his opinion of Sand or simply lower his opinion of Sunagakure. He knew full well, despite the fact that he appeared to be a doofus, that some of his peers were sadists there was a part of him that felt he could change them given time and the right circumstance. When the civil war was over, they would change and be better people. That they became what they needed to be and in some cases he was not entirely wrong. Some were redeemable, but some were broken beyond repair. Like the good Sennin here.

"But fine, if you want to play the forgetting game, we met years ago. You were older than me, so we did not meet until after I climbed out of the pit. After I was let out of my cell. We did not know each other long of course, you looked pretty different then. But you never kept the same face for long now did you? I sometimes wondered what inspired you, they were always handsome and I suppose in a number of ways you were always vain. I did not even have a number yet and you were already Number 6. You were not much of a hero then either. You were good at hurting people. Angry. Yeah, angry was a good term for it. It was probably because of what you were, the whole being different like me."</B><i></i> Roku was not a kirishii, that was obvious. His features would have been apparent from birth and even if he tried to hide it, eventually the truth would have shone through. "I called you a 'changeling,' not that it really described what you were. But Juu reminded me of you a bit, but your skillset was ill-defined."<i></i> He was referring to how he physically changed, yes. But he was also referencing something more intimate about the Sennin. <B>"You're a 'taker' and like how Juu would take from the world around her at large, at will... on a much more narrow scale you were able to take from Ancients you touched physically. Not every Court... Nao called it the 'ritual of consumption,'" he explained without going into depth that was not necessary. Roku knew what he could do and he knew that Taro knew what he could do. Of course Roku was a failure, a not-quite hybrid that could take but could not become. An unconscious, poorly made unbent born of this generation. Nao was attempting to recreate the fatalist method in his own personal quest for power, something he may or may not have achieved and Roku was a lab rat it would seem.

"I was number eighteen when you left. You did not run away, you were sent away. I was told you were being sent to Sunagakure to stop the war," he let out a self-depreciating laugh. "But we know that was not true now don't we?" He took a breath. "You did not even bother to change your name, the rank you were when you left. There is not many left that knew you from before. But it is not like you are forgetable in any way besides your face."

So why--

 

[Raizo]

He would listen, and not in just the sense that he was awaiting for a moment to ask another question. The sense of 'listening' that most people adhered to, especially when they were wanting to find specific answers. People were selfish, so the true definition of listening was very muddle in the real world context; people only cared about what was about them. While that specific reason may have been why he listened intently, he did very much devote his entire attention to the words of Taro. He was instantly enthralled once Taro pushed past the spiteful comments, and even with those in the being it was easy to understand why the prideful but defeated man would take such shots. But immediately following that, he would begin giving insight into the past of what he knew of the The Number Six. Without wasting much time highlighted nuggets of wisdom would appear from the words that his mind would immediately latch on to in an effort to retain. He did not want to begin thinking too deeply on one comment too quickly out of fear of missing the next factoid, so a running tally would start within his memory. Since first dressing up as Kasha, he had developed a knack for sharpening his memorization skills. He was always simply assumed to be a brute or a muscle head, something that he definitely relied on when he was younger wishing to make a name for himself and then latter accepted to keep people from expecting too much from him. Without even realizing, or maybe he did and it was subconsciously intentional, the person known as Roku in the village of Suna became nothing more than a cover. Who was he. It seemed even in the past, he wasn't entirely sure who he was. Taro would conclude, with a little stinger of a comment because he was clearly hurt, and all he could do was simply stare. His expression was clear, he was zoned out, lost within his mind processing all the information. Out of instinct or out of some deeply internal emotion, he would simply utter.

"Thank you Taro..."

The words would come out ghostly, again as if nothing more than just an automated response. Within his mind it felt like every synapse was firing off at the same time. It was truly a shame humans could only use a portion of their overall mental power, being able to tap into more of the processing power would have made his current predicament easier.

"So I am older than you..."

Seemingly his focus would return as he would raise his right hand up to his chin, now churning out the finer details to form his coherent thoughts. There would be so much, so much that upon hearing immediately made sense about his current abilities and his more recent past, so much that was still a mystery.

"My name... yea, the people that took me in seemed to think Roku was a good enough name, but I really don't think they seemed to care a whole lot about something like naming... Taro, was 'Taro' always your name?"

The man was an embodiment of pride, as he seemed to be one of the few Sovereign he had encountered that did not go by his numbered name. Yet, understanding where children of the Sovereign Academy come from, by abduction except for in the rarest of cases, he wondered if others were like him; eventually nameless.

"Did I ever refer to myself by something other than 'Roku'?"

Eventually, after sorting out things with his previous 'family' there would come the quest to discover who he really was before the induction into the Academy.

"Want another one?"

He would pull out another apple from behind him and approach Taro while still keeping some distance. He would extend his left arm, holding the apple outwards, to give to the prisoner. Seeing his frenzied dash to get the first one, he wanted to make this second one less antagonizing to enjoy.

"What if he latches onto my arm and takes me hostage, one might think to themselves. Unfortunately, this left arm is a fake, I'd have it detached before you'd succeed... hypothetically, if anyone would think of such things. Besides, I have more questions..."

Waiting for the man to take the new apple, he would then pull out another apple for himself to enjoy. Most of his weapons were refined from his battle auras, which freed up a lot of space in his pouches to carry snacks.

"You said it yourself; I am no hero."

It was a painful blow to his pride to accept, one he had been struggling for so long with.

"But what is a hero to you, Taro*?"


He would let him answer before following up with;

"Then how is The Sovereign aiding you in becoming a hero? Isn't that group tasked with missions of corruption, tasks marred in darkness and blood... I can accept I am not a hero, but why you, Taro*... why do you keep working with them?"

*If Taro indicates that he remembers a different name than that from my previous question trade out Taro for that name.

 

[Michi]

In the name of the best within you, do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst. In the name of the values that keep you alive, do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly, the cowardly, the mindless in those who have never achieved his title. Do not lose your knowledge that man's proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads. Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it's yours.”

"So I am older than you..."

Of course he was older, he was damn near ancient, no pun intended. He was the previous model, replaced multiple times over since he disappeared.

"My name... yea, the people that took me in seemed to think Roku was a good enough name, but I really don't think they seemed to care a whole lot about something like naming... Taro, was 'Taro' always your name?"

"No,"</B><i></i> he answered. He had a name during the time before, but that was a long time ago. He could not remember it even if he was expected to. That was the thing with names, other people chose them and they were used to define people. He wanted to define his own destiny and as far as he was concerned he had. Even if it resulted in this perilous fate.

"Did I ever refer to myself by something other than 'Roku'?"

"No,"<i></i> Taro claimed. Why would Six call himself by anything but his name? It was the first thing that they took from you, your attachments to your past life. Your individuality. What made you unique. Once there was a blank slate, they would paint their masterpiece. Did that mean that Taro was an exceptional person? In this regard, yes. Not a single Sovereign was 'weak' in mind or spirit but there was a limit to human endurance, something each of them had met during their conditioning. Not a single one of them was perfectly made either, there were cracks in their steely facade but some of those flaws were so infinitesimally fine it was likely that they would never be found. "I kept mine,"<i></i> he defied. It was something he always did, he was unwilling to relent. That was the consequence of pride.

"Not that it should have mattered,"<i></i> he commented from his dreary corner. "Not for your kind in any case," <i></i>he recalled. There was a poet that likened names to to flowers, claiming that the name made no difference in the sweetness of its scent. Taro's name did not change him, it affirmed him. "What value does a name have for someone like you?"<i></i> Different things mattered to the man he remembered, so full of thunder and wrath.

"Want another one?"

He withdrew another apple. That shining little red orb that made him again salivate. He waited for this one to be tossed inside, his eyes following the precious fruit. But this one came with a warning:

"What if he latches onto my arm and takes me hostage, one might think to themselves. Unfortunately, this left arm is a fake, I'd have it detached before you'd succeed... hypothetically, if anyone would think of such things. Besides, I have more questions..."

A missing arm? That was unexpected. He would hesitate, what if he was snatched? It was an illogical concern, the Sovereign could not be any more cornered. Still the thought gave him pauses as he shifted in the shadows like an impatient scavenger waiting for their prey to keel over in the badlands. Eventually he would lurch from the darkness and snatch the fruit with a speed that betrayed his failing health as he receded back into the dark. He would stuff the apple in his mouth a lot like a snake eating a rat, it was conceivable that his jaw became unhinged as he consumed the piece of fruit.

"You said it yourself; I am no hero."

He reminded him. Did it nag at him? Was he just reinforcing the point?

"But what is a hero to you, Taro?"

That was a hard question to ask because Taro was not a verbose man. He lacked the sophisticated lexicon necessary to explain anything. So his answer was as simple as his understanding, "a hero is good." He swallowed hard, "a hero does good things... I am a hero."[/b]

"Then how is The Sovereign aiding you in becoming a hero? Isn't that group tasked with missions of corruption, tasks marred in darkness and blood... I can accept I am not a hero, but why you, Taro*... why do you keep working with them?"

<B>"Because... they are stopping you,"<i></i> Taro replied in a tone that suggested that his answer was obvious. "Sunagakure has created us... us monsters," <i></i>Taro insisted. Didn't he have that backwards? The Sovereign were made in Sora, manufactured by the madman Nao. "A necessary 'evil' to combat a terrible force,"<i></i> Taro continued. "Sunagakure left everyone to die. They were to be the stewards of the desert, but instead they ran away... hid. Did you know that Sunagakure at one point had an Ancient Lord Sennin. That to this day your village still has a family of demons as part of the leadership of the village. That the Steward Kazekage took civilians as tribute during the Diamyo's daughter's engagement celebration. That one of you kidnapped Sango. Is she still alive even? What about Juu? Shichi? I don't hurt women, I never have." <i></i>He shook his head, "not a Sunan can say the same."<i></i>

Of course Taro did not know the whole story. That the Diamyo was somehow behind the storm. There was no proof otherwise. He made some points, the leadership choices of Sunagakure were questionable at best. A foreigner (Kazuki), a relative unknown that came from nowhere (Roku), the patriarch of a clan of demons (Kuro), and the former Sennin being the Lord of the Deep Court, one of humanities greatest enemies. It was not a large leap in logic to believe that Sunagakure was a land of villains.

"Have you ever heard the phrase: I am malleable? I am sure that you have, it is the mantra I was raised with."<i></i> Roku had heard that phrase dozens of times before, said by Sovereign and Cabalists alike. "It means adapt... to be molded in the most elementary sense, but it means so much more. For me, it means that I am the change,"<i></i> it seemed to echo his hubris. "Something I plan to be. Something that the Sovereign Academy gave me the chance to become. I just was not strong enough. I could not even save those baby worms,"<i></i> he lamented. "Or the hot girl."<i></i> Yes, he had limited, superficial priorities. A fine ass could distract his gaze with greater ease than the most proficient illusionist.

"Also, it was Sensou... I think. You might have liked the brutality of the term, well that or your parents were some sick fucks."<i></i>

 

[Raizo]

"What value does a name have for someone like you?"

It was a very simple question that caused this moment to freeze in time for him. The world around him grew still as Taro's words seemed to slow down and drown out. What did his name mean to him? In one sense, he had a name but in another sense it was literally a number assigned to him. Is that a name? Was that a name? Did he need a name... would he be who he was now if he had a 'name' or was he always destined to be number six? He would continue to reflect as his attention returned to Taro and the world seemed to return to normal speed.

"A hero does good things, and you are the hero... and Sunagakure created us..."
<i></i>
His words were not dismissive and while they were questioning it was not accusatory, it was merely a part of his mental processing. At times it helped his mind place things together to not only hear and think it, but also restate it out loud. He would continue to listened to the captured Sovereign. There was a nugget of large information to digest and navigate as he would reveal that the princess was missing, that they were aware of Number Ten missing and then learning that Number Seven was also missing. Lastly, there was a name, but with how his mind was running at the moment he would not even allow that thought to fully sink in until processing the rest of it.

"Yes, Mikaboshi was given power as a peace deal between the Kazekage's family... so I can't disagree with your anger there. This village used Ancients to increase their power. At the same time, whether you were aware or not, we were force-fed Ancients in the Sovereign Academy to make us what we are now... we accepted, or were forced to accept, the power of those monsters to make us. Whether it was the Academy or this Village, both hold that stink."
<i></i>
It was true, and while he had a strained relationship with Mikaboshi, he himself still had not forgiven what the being had done to Fuu. Whether that was misguided or not was a conversation for a later point.

"The cat people? Yea, not a fan of them either... but who in the hell would kidnap the Daimyo's daughter..."
<i></i>
That did not seem like something they would do, and it was the first he had heard of it. If she was anything like her perverted brother, she might have up and left herself.

"Juu was captured by that monster, Mikaboshi."
<i></i>
His words held anger but this was more of an act, and less about his own personal feelings towards Mikaboshi.

"However, from my brief chat with her it seemed like she was different than us... I don't know, seemed like she was holding something back that maybe even you weren't aware of..."
<i></i>
Her ability to speak an ancient language and her references towards Mikaboshi, there was definitely something odd going on in Tea Country.

"I have yet to meet Seven, so I'm unsure of why she'd be missing from you all... her encountering a Sunan shinobi would have been a big talking point here."
<i></i>
Kazuki had mentioned something briefly, but the full story was not coming in clearly to him at this time, so he was working under the belief that he truly did not know what happened to Shichi.

"Never hurt a woman... did you know that giant resurrected worm fought a bunch of us on the surface, did you happen to see any of that? If you missed it, there was this one woman; red hair, tight body, just the peak condition of femininity... I mean the hair alone was just such a vibrant and beautiful color that you could not take your eyes off of her."
<i></i>
She was pretty, as he recalled.

"That worm, the one you failed to save the precious babies of... impaled that beautiful woman. Last report I saw, she was still comatose in our hospital. Now, you did not do that, you did not summon that huge worm back to this world, you did not hurt her... but someone close to you did. Nao. Nao was prepared to not only kill that woman, but kill countless women and children in pursuit of what? Eggs? Baby worms?"
<i></i>
There was the mantra, the malleable saying that he had heard before.

"I'm glad you are malleable, Taro. It's the only reason I can trust you when you tell me that you are a hero... but I cannot think the same for Nao, the man with the sweet voice and the Daimyo. Those individuals, they take people like you, pure people, and bend them and take them to the breaking point realizing that you will either mold into the shape they want or break and be discarded. I may not remember everything, or most of my time at this point, but I am well aware that you and I saw those that were discarded.... we helped discard them."
<i></i>
There was a feeling that those words resonated within himself seemed to hold a deeper truth than he could have possibly known at this point.

"We survived; all of us, all the Sovereign. We are not evil, we are survivors. That, unfortunately, does not wash away our sins."
<i></i>
Within his eyes there would be a sense of sullenness. He would pull himself up from his seated position.

"But the sins of those that made us---much like your crusade against Suna, I hold that same resentment towards the ones manipulating within Sora. The Daimyo and Nao, those two are drenched in darkness and sin; they may have given us strength but at the cost they charge... I cannot forgive. I will not allow them to continue sending us, sending you, down a trail of blood. We are better than that, you are better than that, you are a hero... so in order to see that you remain a hero... I will end this madness, I will free you from your chains, and if at that time you still wish to crush this village so be it."
<i></i>
He would turn to the door and knock on it, giving it three raps.

"You need to remain malleable; do not let them break you. I cannot hold your mantra, however. I must adhere to my experiences and to the path I have been sent on; I have been twisted, smashed, hammered, battered, bruised, bloodied... I have been killed, returned, only to be killed once more... I am may very well be an embodiment of malleable, but no more. I am not here to be shaped by them or crushed by them... I am unbent. I am unbroken. I am not the hero... but with my last breaths I will do something good."
<i></i>
The door would open, and from outside would enter the ANBU Usagi, a small framed feminine bodied figure with a rabbit mask. Within her had would be a rather large plate of food and a cup of water.

"I have to go and checkout something Taro. I will come back for you. I know you will never see me in a positive light again and some day you may very well be the one to kill me... but I am not giving up on you. You are a hero to me... and for the first time in a long time, the closest thing to family that I've had in this world. We are brothers, I see you as a brother... I need to have a chat with our father."
<i></i>
Nao. It was a long time coming but he needed to have an actual interaction with the man who was behind his inception into this new life.

"If you wish to talk some more prior to my return, ask for me and I'm sure one of these masked people will get me. Until then..."
<i></i>
He would nod and turn his back to Taro. There were emotions, there was pain, there was relief... but there was also one more thing.

"Sensou..."
<i></i>
He would start laughing to himself as the name's meaning started to manifest within his mind. War. He was war. How fitting.

"Wait..."
<i></i>
He would come marching back to the room.

"Why did you need the worm eggs anyways? That always seemed off to me... I can't believe y'all were wanting to farm worms over in the Academy, right? So why them..."
<i></i> WC-1379

 

[Michi]

Of course he knew that, Sango had been gone now for what five... no six years nearly. Just like Shichi had been gone for eight, maybe nine. Juu for a little less, maybe six or seven. Not that time passes well or easily, he did not know exactly how long ago it was in terms of years, he had been left alone in the great black pit for four'ish years as well. Time was passing him by at an alarming rate. Probably felt like a year to Roku, maybe a bit longer. For Taro, more like eight. But even then, it had been years since he had seen any of them, all capable and strong women. Some he actually respected, which was why they never dated -- it was hard to date a woman he respected.

"Yes, Mikaboshi was given power as a peace deal between the Kazekage's family... so I can't disagree with your anger there. This village used Ancients to increase their power. At the same time, whether you were aware or not, we were force-fed Ancients in the Sovereign Academy to make us what we are now... we accepted, or were forced to accept, the power of those monsters to make us. Whether it was the Academy or this Village, both hold that stink."

Roku tried to explain the Kazekage's process but there would be no way for the Sennin to rectify his former master's sin. Taro shook his head, weary in the darkness. His pale eyes glinted from the hint of light the narrow slit in the door provided. One that he saw on occasion open a crack. Those outside were curious, or full of fear. "Your Kazekage opened his door, his home, his people and his secrets to monsters that used to dominate us. He opened the door to a being that ate us like you or I would a side of beef," Taro replied. What he said somewhat eloquent considering his station and his lack of education. He had not come to this conclusion on his own, he was far to simple. "They did not have to force me to take their 'gift'... their 'curse'," Taro continued perseverating between the two for a moment. Being a hybrid, if by birth, Ancient Lord gift, Nao's technique or the Fatalist Method, being a hybrid came with draw-backs. "I was born this way," Taro claimed. He was not lying, a flicker of light as the slit in the door opened to spy the conversation within. One that should have been in confidence cast enough light to remind Roku of what Taro was. He had seen it before, Taro's flesh was wrong. It looked like his flesh was made of metal, because it was. Yes, what witty comments he could have about being 'rock hard' and having a 'real set of boulders.' "A Kirishii," Taro seemed to spit when he said the word. Like so many other words it had power. It told a tale, a single word described his family's history. "A monster."

The Kirishii were once gladiators of the Flame Court under Lord Homura who would fight in great battles. Homura was a creature of war and conflict, of passion, blood and fire as were the members of his great and dangerous court. Victory, forging the perfect warrior and having a great battle drove Homura to create the Kirishii. Men and women alike, reformed through his power and strength and rage. They took on many of the physical traits of this terrestrial court -- their bodies hard as stone for greater endurance, their fists like great boulders and their step like a mountain on the move. The Kirishii were cursed to live in a world of limbo, not man and not Ancient, too wise to be among the beasts and too deformed and strange to find their place among either race. While they aided humanity in their way for liberation at Godsfall, in the time thereafter the Kirishii retreated to the wilds.

"But there is a difference between the Kazekage and the Diamyo," Taro persisted with a long breath. "We destroyed the Ancients by consuming them, this village allowed Mikaboshi and surely others like him to not only proliferate but given a seat of authority." Humanity did not mean much to a man that was never a man, not truly. His parents were half-breeds and his parents before that were as well. He was better than most, not really able to pass but not nearly as aberrant as the rest. Of course his beginning in the world of civilized man should have started with a cliche my parents wanted another life for me so left me here. Such a tale would define his parents as short-sighted and cruel. No, he was but a pebble when his parents died, his mother during childbirth. There was a reason the Kirishii line had not weakened as human blood overtook the Kirishii -- his mother was fully human, this was why he looked almost human. The process of birthing a boulder boded poorly for the woman, a unique person perhaps that truly loved his father or so he hoped as he never knew the girl, she died of a hemorrhage hours after his birth. He was seen as a miracle child, glistening like gold - lovely. He was passed around in those early years from distant human relative to distant human relative until none of them wanted him any longer, then it was the life of a street rat for him.

"I will live a long time," Taro admitted. "Even in a hell like this. And so won't you." A lesser man would have been dead. Even a lesser hybrid truly. Taro was an exceptional creature, even if he saw it otherwise. That was what Nao saw as well.

The Kazekage's insurmountable errors did not end there, with the elevation of the Ancient Lord to the seat of Sennin. He was awarding demons and foreigners with the same boon. So short-sighted. So foolish. Taro saw it as the ultimate betrayal of humanity.

"The cat people? Yea, not a fan of them either... but who in the hell would kidnap the Daimyo's daughter..."

Taro simply glared at Roku from the darkness. "We know it was you, well, not you in particular. But it was one of you," Taro claimed. There was very little evidence but that was exactly the point, Shouki was guarding the room personally. He admitted to harming the girl, but claimed she was intact when he sent her to bed. General Shiro was not the sort of man to lie, he took great pride in his violence. All they had was a small hole drilled from the outside, the dust on the floor told them it was an outside job. The lack of a struggle, the girl could fight. She was by no means on par with her older brother, but she was a capable teen, well young woman by now. The evidence was circumstantial mostly, there was not a Sovereign that would dare take her. Sound was about to have her and the Otokage was not a man to be crossed. The denizens of Wind Country, for the most part lacked shinobi skills -- not everyone was chakra sensitive. The Merchant lords would have leveraged her kidnapping by now if one of them was seeking the throne, the Diamyo would have denied them their victory but if they were foolish enough to take her, then they would have been foolish enough to try. That left Sunagakure, the logical culprit. "But if her fate is anything like mine, I have a feeling she is in a corner someplace forgotten... much like me." Taro reasoned, he was not wrong really. Sango was somewhere in Sunagakure, after the girl was taken and nearly killed she was placed in the Omni Prime. She was prevented from leaving, not that taro had any way of knowing this of course.

Where would Sunagakure have put her -- the most logical place you would place a girl claiming to be the Diamyo's daughter: the Asylum. An easy place to lock someone away. To forget about them. A place where they can scream and cry and threaten but could not do anything more. A place where nobody would believe her and Sunagakure's terrible secret would be secure.

"Juu was captured by that monster, Mikaboshi."

Admission of something at the very least. Under Mikaboshi's thumb for that long? Taro let out a shuddering breath, yes he was in physical pain upon hearing that. "I hope she is dead then," Taro concluded in a dejected voice. For Juu there were fates worse than death, such as consumption. Such as being turned. She, like Taro were exceptions -- neither of them had undergone Nao's procedure. Juu had other means of acquiring power, or so she claimed. She was strong, something that he could not deny. She used to claim that her power came from him... not just him alone, but everyone. That she took a little bit from everyone and everything, if it had life she could consume it. She was never willing to share her secret and Shouki certainly tried. The Jashinist had some unique means of extracting anguish from others. She would rather die than share, and die she nearly had. Rangers don't talk she would claim. If you want a chat, find an Oracle, She never elaborated fully on what either phrase meant, but she was a strong advocate for bloodline purity so they did not get along and she believed that every Ancient had to die along side the humans that loved them. She was a radical before she ever joined the Sovereign but she claimed that she was nothing exceptional in terms of zeal. Just, the rest of them did not want to sully themselves in a place full of mutts and half-breeds.

"Even a bitch like her does not deserve that," Taro was angry. his fist balled up tightly, his jagged nails dug into his palm. She wanted him dead, most of the Sovereign dead in fact. That was why she did not travel with them, she could not stand their stink.

"However, from my brief chat with her it seemed like she was different than us... I don't know, seemed like she was holding something back that maybe even you weren't aware of..."

"So... you had access to her?" Curious. He left her in his hands. What a monster. Something boiled inside of him, he had been broken a long time ago or so he thought. "I know her secrets," he claimed. She would not forgive him for this trespass. "She is a pure human," he announced matter-of-factly. "Something that people in her region believe in maintaining," he continued. "Those of us of mixed blood... of pure Ancient, do not deserve to live. As far as she is concerned my... our existence is a threat to the human race, one she only tolerates because full-blooded Ancients exist still." It was ironic, he did not even have to lie. She had other secrets as well, ones that he was privy to but as long as she was in Mikaboshi's grip that Six could apparently access he was not going to be as willing to spill. She was an enigma because she did not belong, at least with the known pieces on the table.

"I have yet to meet Seven, so I'm unsure of why she'd be missing from you all... her encountering a Sunan shinobi would have been a big talking point here."

So he claimed. "So, I am known?" Curious, because that would be the result of his claim. If that was true, he would have been retrieved by now. He knew that because they would have gotten Shichi. They would have gotten Juu. For the most part the members of the Sovereign did not get along but they were comrades. It did not matter that Shouki was a sadomasochistic pervert with a god-complex, that Shi was a dangerous whore, that Ichi was a monster, or that Juu actively wished for their deaths because they had a line that none of them would cross. They would keep each other alive because they were family, bound together by pain, by hate and by intent. Each of them was unique in their own way, Shichi was because she believed that there was another way. He remembered when she left, it was her and San headed to port, there was rumors that important men would be there. "Three saw Sennin Senju take her," Taro admitted. He was watching from the sea.

Something was preventing Roku, the other Roku from striking.

"Never hurt a woman... did you know that giant resurrected worm fought a bunch of us on the surface, did you happen to see any of that? If you missed it, there was this one woman; red hair, tight body, just the peak condition of femininity... I mean the hair alone was just such a vibrant and beautiful color that you could not take your eyes off of her."

He was already underground when the fight started. Women should stay out of the line of fire, their place was in the kitchen not a battleground.

"That worm, the one you failed to save the precious babies of... impaled that beautiful woman. Last report I saw, she was still comatose in our hospital. Now, you did not do that, you did not summon that huge worm back to this world, you did not hurt her... but someone close to you did. Nao. Nao was prepared to not only kill that woman, but kill countless women and children in pursuit of what? Eggs? Baby worms?"

"Did not know we were in the business of killing babies," he grumbled. That was why Nao sent him of course, he was a sentimental lug. He was well-matched for the mission. He had no idea why Nao wanted the eggs, only that he was urged to save them. To save as many as he could. He did not need further explanation, of course if he was given an explanation he probably would not have went along with it. There was something very specific... something very unique about Barnyx. Something that resonates with the Wild Hunt and that is not to speak of the seeping corruption that diseased so many centuries ago.

"I'm glad you are malleable, Taro. It's the only reason I can trust you when you tell me that you are a hero... but I cannot think the same for Nao, the man with the sweet voice and the Daimyo. Those individuals, they take people like you, pure people, and bend them and take them to the breaking point realizing that you will either mold into the shape they want or break and be discarded. I may not remember everything, or most of my time at this point, but I am well aware that you and I saw those that were discarded.... we helped discard them."

Roku was right, he was discarded. It was not the other way around. Roku was nothing more than a broken toy. Taro did not see it that way, Taro saw it as someone who left. Someone who laid in bed with the enemy. "You don't get it do you?" Taro muttered. "You were... you weren't pretending," Taro announced as he eyed the door. The hell with whoever is there if they were listening. "You were supposed to stop this years ago," Taro proclaimed. "This could have ended if you turned one man," he was referring to Sousuke. Sousuke was the key to all of this, at least back then. The previous Kazekage had stepped down due to age, elevating Sousuke a young Kazekage without an heir to the diamond throne. Convince him to step down. Direct him away from the demons and foreigners. Sousuke's power was based off of his association with fiends, the wrong sort of friend. A problem common with young leaders such as him. He just had to point Sousuke to the Diamyo, someone older with experience to rule in his stead. The Sunahoshi back then were gone, believed dead, there was no legacy ruler. "You left and then you... you just lived like a normal person. There were people dying in that storm. people already dead," he was unaware that the storm was being run by a resurrected Sunahoshi. "We were fighting people too... getting new recruits when the weaker ones died." Taro was tired of fighting, he had been fighting for too long. He envied Roku's life.

"We survived; all of us, all the Sovereign. We are not evil, we are survivors. That, unfortunately, does not wash away our sins."

He was right on that one.

"But the sins of those that made us---much like your crusade against Suna, I hold that same resentment towards the ones manipulating within Sora. The Daimyo and Nao, those two are drenched in darkness and sin; they may have given us strength but at the cost they charge... I cannot forgive. I will not allow them to continue sending us, sending you, down a trail of blood. We are better than that, you are better than that, you are a hero... so in order to see that you remain a hero... I will end this madness, I will free you from your chains, and if at that time you still wish to crush this village so be it."

Roku was a hypocrite, not that Nao, the Diamyo or even taro was any better. He did not like hurting things, over the years Nao took care to make sure that Taro did not see the worst of it. For the most part it was effective, but Taro was there for his own conditioning. He had heard stories, here and there. He was willfully ignorant of the atrocities being committed. But Sunagakure was no better, not really. Death would have been kinder than these wasted years where he was left to rot and starve. And he knew that he was not alone, there were others in here like him. That is only to speak of the prisons. The people of Wind Country, they were suffering too. Sunagakure was derelict in their duties to the people they were to protect. Still, Taro was swayed, even if it was only a little.

"You need to remain malleable; do not let them break you. I cannot hold your mantra, however. I must adhere to my experiences and to the path I have been sent on; I have been twisted, smashed, hammered, battered, bruised, bloodied... I have been killed, returned, only to be killed once more... I am may very well be an embodiment of malleable, but no more. I am not here to be shaped by them or crushed by them... I am unbent. I am unbroken. I am not the hero... but with my last breaths I will do something good."

Taro took a deep breath. Roku, this Roku, was right. Being malleable meant that he was able to be molded. That he was becoming what someone else wanted him to be. He had always taken it to mean that he was 'adaptable' which was in part true but malleable had specific connotations. Words have power. A phrase that has been used many times to describe authority and dominance. Words have power in ways a sword does not. A sword cannot carve a legacy but a quill can. A word can pull at the sinews of ones' heart, elevate them to a position of power or devastate their world. Words have meaning because they convey meaning in ways that brute force cannot. Pain is a useful means of deriving compliance, but it is most often their words that we seek. Anything can serve as a beast of burden, but not everyone knows the same words -- has the same power.

The door would open, a small woman would be standing in the door. Those were not the eyes that were watching him through the slit in the door. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Did she replace another guard? Was she the one? No, he was certain that it was another set of eyes. Of course his eyes were on the food, he was still ravenous. A pair of apples was more than he had been given in some time but it was far from adequate. but it was gnawing at him all the same, she was not the one.

"I have to go and checkout something Taro. I will come back for you. I know you will never see me in a positive light again and some day you may very well be the one to kill me... but I am not giving up on you. You are a hero to me... and for the first time in a long time, the closest thing to family that I've had in this world. We are brothers, I see you as a brother... I need to have a chat with our father."

What was he going to so, stop him?

Roku asked about his name, well a name that he used. Taro did not know his real name. Well, it was unlikely at the very least. However, Roku did use a name that was not a number, at least it was a name he picked. Maybe his parents if they had issues. Hard to say, he never talked about them. For the most part none of them talked about their childhood, but most of them were a mess long before they became a forgettable.

"Sensou..."

What did the term Number Six do -- it took away his identity because he had a name before. If it was something his parents had granted him or it was one he chose for himself. Attached to his name, his first name would be a history... a legacy. It was something that tied him to his family if he ever had one. It was something that made him unique, better than a model number. Something that can be replaced with minimal effort like a pair of shoes. Something that transformed a boy from an individual into nothing important.

"Why did you need the worm eggs anyways? That always seemed off to me... I can't believe y'all were wanting to farm worms over in the Academy, right? So why them..."

"Good question," Taro admitted. "I was told that there was a baby nest of sandworms and that you were going to kill the babies. So I brought them back a dozen at a time." It was too hard to carry more than that, even on a wagon of sandstrider. "I saved twenty-four before you came," his voice had a tone of disappointment. Yes, that would mean that there were eggs still alive. Still intact, somewhere. Given a few days and he would have saved them all.

 

[Raizo]

"I saved twenty-four before you came,"

It would feel like the bottom was dropped out from under him, an increasing feeling of sinking. If there was ever a moment "feeling a knot in the pit of your stomach" would fit, this was the time. Out there, there were 24 more versions of the 'tiny' worms they had encountered while underground.

Forget the Sovereign, those worms going unchecked could be more cataclysmic than rest of the numbers.

"God damn it... you might be too good at your job, Taro."
<i></i>

It was presented as a complement, but internally he was not feeling all that good about the sheer ability of the young man before him. Taro was a perfect weapon for the Sovereign; he was incredibly strong before them, even stronger after, experienced loss at a young age and was emotional stunted from that point, had been conditioned for years and the worst of all was pure in his thinking. Taro was a giant kid, a giant, dangerous kid. Much like in his impassioned speech directly too Taro, it was clearly the aspect of the big lug that Nao and the Daimyo preyed upon.

"If I wanted to talk to Nao, aside from walking up to the Palace and getting slaughtered, what would be the best way? I imagine you had a method of communicating back and forth with him or someone like him while out in the field."<i></i>

He would pop his neck as he would await a response.

"Pops and I need to have a heart-to-heart."<i></i>

WC-250

 

[Michi]

"God damn it... you might be too good at your job, Taro."

He was a good boy, he had saved a few. Sadly there were well over a hundred that perished. some still in their shells and some at the end of a blade. He had no idea how well they were doing or if they were happy, but he hoped the worms were happy. They said that they would make sure that the worms were happy. Sadly, sandworms were an apex predator in their 'cute' if you call a refrigerator-sized maggot that could rip off a limb 'cute' but Taro did. He was both smart and dumb, a dangerous combination considering his strength. He did not question authority, not enough. He took what they told him at face value because why would they lie? They were not good people, the Sovereign but they were his people but everyone lies and everyone has secrets. Taro's were less earth-shattering than he thought. Most people who saw him fight knew that he was not entirely human with his gilded flesh even if Kirishii was a bit of a stretch because he looked more like a golden statue of manly perfection than a Kirishii.

Juu had a deeper, darker secret. One that even Taro was not fully aware of, even if he thought he understood her. Even if he thought that he knew what she was hiding, he was wrong. Her ambitions went deeper than he could have accounted for, deeper than he was capable of understanding. Unlike him, she was exactly where she needed to be.

"If I wanted to talk to Nao, aside from walking up to the Palace and getting slaughtered, what would be the best way? I imagine you had a method of communicating back and forth with him or someone like him while out in the field."

"The Palace?" Taro repeated, a tone of befuddlement in his voice. "Why would you look for Nao in someone else's house? That would be like me seeking you in your lover's estate." Indeed, it was a place that Nao would frequent, sometimes for longer than others but he spent most of his time experimenting. "Nao is in many places," Taro admitted. "And has many faces," he continued. "He spends his days in the Sovereign Academy, but sometimes he is someplace else..." his voice trailed off. "But I do not know where," he admitted. He was not Nao's keeper. "He has a knack for finding me, not the other way around," Taro's voice seemed to almost warn him.

"If you're worth finding, just tell enough people you are looking." Nao was a Dark Sage, capable of reanimating the dead. Capable of controlling the dead in an uncanny manner never seen before. His claws were everywhere. "I am certain at least one of the ANBU here can lead you back to him." Taro's suggestion was dangerous, ludicrous even but it was a danger of being an ANBU with a hidden identity and a hidden persona. you never really got to know their quirks, what made someone unique. What made someone real. So replace them with another, perhaps even the same just now dead. As long as they know when to come and when to go, their transition into the guard would be seamless. Yet oddly enough he was leaving Taro and company to rot. It was not due to a lack of power but rather the structure itself that prevented Nao's power from reaching and liberating him. It was the consumption, the voracious hunger that filled these eerie halls. What was under his will could not persist for long.

"...And he will find you."<i></i>

It seemed simple enough, but a dangerous game to play. Calling upon a devil rather than a fiend.