Metamorphosis [Private]

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

Trousers.

It was time at last. Time for Masquerade to be discharged from the hospital. He could finally get back to his life as a shinobi. His wounds had been healed, and his strength had been recovered. He was back on his feet now, and he could actually keep himself up with his own strength. Several months of dull, uneventful treatments and therapy had made the Nukenin all too eager to leave the hospital. The less-than hospitable nature of the hospital staff was also a contributing factor. This was a day that he had been looking forward to for quite a while. Seven months, in fact. Seven long, boring months. Seven months of living the life of a cripple. Thanks to recent events, Masquerade knew how lucky he was to not be born a handicap, or turn into one because of his healed injuries. His respect for the handicapped folk had just increased notably. Also for all those in the field of medicine in general, even if someone of them could be kind of infuriating at times.

It was funny how unpredictable life could be. To think that Masquerade, someone who never yearned for any sort of action as a result of boredom, would be so compelled to seek it now. Well, in this case, it was merely a case of restlessness. Really, it was expected of an admitted patient to be eager to leave the hospital he or she had been “imprisoned” in. No one could blame Masquerade for being so delighted by the prospect of being discharged from the hospital. He felt he might even do a little skip and twirl of happiness. But only when no one was looking.

On second thought, he wasn’t going to do either of that.

Shirt.

This whole ordeal had been a memorable experience for Masquerade. Not memorable in the sense that he would remember it forever under the heading of “the good times”, but because the amount of physical pain, as well as the mental frustrations he had had to suffer were something that would be engraved in his memory for the remainder of his life. It was not only the hospital stay that he would always recall. Inclusive were all those hours spent in his inner realm, with those infrequent and mocking conversations with the Shichibi; as well as the hours of silence in the same place, during which the Nukenin had done nothing but mull and ponder. And of course, he would not forget the events that had landed him in the hospital in the first place. Kumoi Juudai. Masquerade would not forget Kumoi Juudai again, not because he wished to fuel himself on an unhealthy dose of vengeance for the foreseeable future. Rather, he would remember the Chuunin as a reminder of how foolish the Nukenin had been those seven months ago.

Boots.

The name and face of Kumoi Juudai would always remind Masquerade of his idiocy. Forget about remembering Juudai for any ill feelings; Masquerade did not have time for that. Sure, he harbored antagonistic feelings towards the Sunagakure shinobi for his actions, but he was not going to let those feelings dominate his life. How would he even be able to focus on anything he did henceforth, if his mind was too engrossed in trying to avenge his shattered pride? Masquerade’s self-esteem was not as fragile as Juudai’s, for him to waste so much of his life on a goal as pointless as that. What would he do if he managed to defeat Juudai? Kill him? Let him live, so that the Sunagakure ninja could go through the entire cycle of vengeance all over again, and come back to confront Masquerade again? And thus begin a never-ending cycle of revenge? Pointless. Besides, submitting to any desires for retribution meant giving in to any hostile emotions Masquerade had for Juudai. He would have to let those emotions control his actions, which was a big “no-no”. After all, even letting his emotions control his life was something that Masquerade would not accept. One did not make sound, unbiased decisions when under the influence of strong emotions. That was primarily one of the reasons why shinobi who could “kill their emotions” were so valued by others. Well, they were valued by the people who sought their skills. Their comrades? Not so much.

Gloves.

Juudai had not only done a number on Masquerade’s body, but he had done a hell of a job in ruining Masquerade’s gear. The Nukenin had needed a fresh batch of clothes and ninja gear following his encounter with the Chuunin, something which had been stated by Subaru at one point. The Nukenin’s associate had even offered to go fetch Masquerade a new set of all his items. In regards to his ninja tools, Masquerade had told Subaru to bring him the same equipment as before. However, the Nukenin had not asked for the same outfit. Instead, he had detailed a new design and style for the man to bring him, more on a whim than anything else. A new pair of gloves and boots, new trousers and shirt, a new coat, and most importantly, a new mask. The mask definitely needed to be replaced. Masquerade’s old one was no longer sufficient for covering the disfigurements on his face. After all, the only reason he wore a mask in the first place was to cover his deformed eyes. He hid his eyes, not to avoid attracting attention to himself, but for the convenience of others. Now, Masquerade’s disfigurements were not limited to just his eyes. He needed a more obscuring mask, something that would be able to cover more. Such was why Masquerade had not gotten his original mask renewed, and had instead instructed Subaru to have a new one crafted for him.

Coat.

Admittedly, it had been a bit of a blow for Masquerade to have his mask replaced. One would not be incorrect in saying that Masquerade valued his face wear greatly; he did regard it as part of his face. To change something that he considered so integral to his being, something that was pretty much a part of his body… The decision had not been an easy one to make. Nonetheless, it was a change that had to be made, because Masquerade’s actual face was no longer the same as it had once been. It had undergone an aesthetic change, so it was only natural that the mask that was seen as a part of his face should also undergo a change. Besides, it was all superficial. His appearance may have changed, his attire might have changed, but he was still Masquerade.

Masquerade… It had been a while since the Nukenin had even stopped to recall how he had acquired that moniker. He treated it as if it was his actual name; if anyone referred to him by anything else, whether it was a nickname or the name that the orphanage had given him (that is, “Murasami Kai”), he actively made an effort to correct the way he was addressed. Not even Masquerade could explain why he was so determined to be referred to by his alias only. It could have to do with the fact that he despised the orphanage he had come from, and therefore disliked the idea that he was using something they had given him. Then again, a name was an important attribute to have, and despite how much he hated that orphanage, Masquerade would agree that it was horrible to live without a name. Whatever the case, he favored his alias over his given name, and that was odd in itself. Why? Because Masquerade had not come up with the name himself.

As a Nukenin, Masquerade had taken on several jobs so far. One of his first missions, which he had accepted within his first year as a rogue shinobi, had been where he had earned his title. The client had sent Masquerade to infiltrate an aristocrat’s manor and steal a set of documents. The major point of mention was that the night Masquerade had been sent to steal the documents was the night when the wealthy man had been throwing a party in his abode – specifically, a traditional party in the form of a masquerade ball. The fact that all the guests and the staff were garbed in festive costumes had made the prospective infiltration seem even easier to Masquerade. Acquiring a costume and blending into the staff had been easy enough. Locating and unlocking the safe that contained the documents had been almost as easy.

The difficult part arose when Masquerade tried to make his exit. Long story short, the Nukenin had been confronted by the head of the staff, and it had not taken long for his cover to be blown. The situation had become even more complicated when the aristocrat’s security forces apprehended Masquerade, bringing him to the man of the house. The affluent owner had mocked the Nukenin, ridiculing him for his poor skills (which, to be honest, was an accurate description of Masquerade’s prowess at that time). Since the boy refused to give his name, the aristocrat had decided to jokingly call the Nukenin “the masquerading boy”. While the man was busy contemplating what to do with the thief, the Nukenin had managed to distract his captors long enough to make a run for it. The crux of the matter was that the boy did not leave with the documents, since they had been taken from him when he had been apprehended.

In the end, Masquerade succeeded in escaping the scene, though he ended up failing the mission - his first of several to come. That was also the first mission that led to a bounty being placed on Masquerade’s head, courtesy of the aristocrat (incidentally, the bounty constituted a degradingly cheap reward for Masquerade’s capture). The Nukenin had been identified by the same title the aristocrat had used, and it had seemed to stick. As time went on, however, the title was eventually shortened from “The Masquerading Boy” to “Masquerade”; because, honestly, the first title had been a mouthful. As it would happen, the Nukenin would come to like the sound of the name, and would adopt it as his self-proclaimed official alias and actual name.

Such was how he became “Masquerade”: because of one of his failures. And now, because of another failure, he would become a new Masquerade – in terms of appearance, at least.

Slowly, the Nukenin looked down from the reflection of his unwrapped face in the mirror, and down at the mask in his hands. He then slowly raised the item to his face, and secured it in place.

Mask.

~ Topic Concluded ~