Whence He Came [Private]

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

• Preceded By •
Turtles, Travels, Tea

It had been a near three weeks since the masked Nukenin had set foot in Cha no Kuni. The hunting ship that he had brought him from Mizu no Kuni had docked at one of the nation’s southern ports, and the Jinchuuriki had disembarked without any issue or event to worth mentioning. The ship’s captain and crew remained as clueless about his criminal standing as they had initially, thus easing his passage to this country. It pleased Masquerade that he did not have to spend the first few hours after his arrival trying to evade capture. That was always a nice change of pace for a rogue such as he. It allowed him the luxury of enjoying what this country had to offer. The landscape was pleasantly green and lush, very similar to that of Hi no Kuni. Unsurprising, given how Cha no Kuni shared a border with Hi no Kuni. The climate was nearly identical, differing only because of this former was at a lower latitude than the latter. In truth, there was not much in Cha no Kuni that Masquerade had not seen before - in regards to its environment, and its citizens. Sure, there were some distinctions when it came to customs and traditions, but that was hardly worth mentioning.

There was, however, the tea that Cha no Kuni was so famed for - and most likely named after, too. Masquerade was not much of a tea enthusiast. In fact, calling him an enthusiast of anything could be considered silly. The possibly-bland Nukenin’s drinking indulgences were limited chiefly to water and milk - it was beyond his recollection whether he had ever drunk tea, or a similar hot beverage. Deciding to try his hand (or taste buds) at something new, Masquerade had done the uncharacteristic by visiting a tea shop in a cozy little town. Concealed under the guise of a Henge, the male had showcased his ignorance by asking the waiter “what’s good?” (in a more eloquent and verbose manner, though). It had not been long before a cup of hot liquid had been set in front of him.

Pointless details like that aside, here he was, three weeks into his exploration of Cha no Kuni. He had not tested as many of the country’s famed beverages as most tourists would, having discerned that he would stick to his milk and water for the most part (someone liked to live a boring life). Walking on a dirt road lined on either side by deep forests, Masquerade pondered what to do next. As far as he was concerned, he had experienced all that was of significance in Cha no Kuni. Well, maybe he hadn’t, but he did not know of anything else in Cha no Kuni that was worth his time. He did not care for the drinks, and it was not as if he the terrain he traversed here was all that particularly different.

The masked shinobi was so invested in his thoughts, he did not notice the dark shape seemingly materialize out of nothingness behind him. It was only until the humanoid figure tapped him on the shoulder that the Nukenin’s masked visage was swung round to meet the gaze of the one behind him. Freezing in mid-stride, Masquerade’s body tensed and he spun round completely, instinctively backpedalling for some personal space. Once he was at a comfortable distance, and his personal bubble was not being invaded, Masquerade scrutinized the person that had so noiselessly sneaked up on him. It was a towering individual, definitely close to seven feet, and garbed completely in black. A loose, ebony cloak with a hood and tattered edges obscured the human’s body, leaving only the booted feet and the face to see. Except, the face was not uncovered either. A white mask concealed the stranger’s visage - a mask styled like the front of a human skull, minus the lower jawbone. The entire attire, particularly the mask, left Masquerade with very little doubt as to who this person was - or more specifically, what kind of business this person was employed in.

Black Ops…, the rogue hissed mentally, muscles tensing as his hands curled into fists; he was preparing himself for an assault. A sensible course of action, given who he was in the presence of. A class of shinobi whose very principle was the extinction of Masquerade’s kind… So very inimical. Gaze as shifty and watchful as a mouse’s, the Jinhcuuriki waited for the newcomer to act. The hulking Black Operative seemed unperturbed by Masquerade’s reaction; what was more, it seemed no attempts at attack were about to be instigated. Just as the Nukenin took notice of this, the dark stranger at last spoke to him.

“Relax. I’m not here to fight,” the skull-masked figure remarked coolly. The baritone of the hoarse voice answered any queries regarding the speaker’s gender: this Black Ops shinobi was a man. In hindsight, the girth and frame should have made that obvious to Masquerade. “I’m one of your kind.”

A silent Masquerade eyeballed the nonchalant Black Ops shinobi. After a second’s pause, the Jinchuuriki straightened up some and cocked his head a fraction to the side.

“Nukenin?”

“Assassin.”

Another brief pause.

“Rumiho?”

“Yes.”

A short exchange of words, but one that held great weight. The Jinchuuriki’s body relaxed as he straightened his spine and returned his posture to normal; his arms returned to their initial, folded position behind his back. Head still titled to the side slightly, Masquerade watched the hulking Assassin wordlessly. The latter remained silent and unmoving as well, the gaze under the skull mask clearly fixed firmly on the smiling face wear of the former.

“So, then. What is the reason for this abrupt encounter, my dear Assassin friend?”

“I’ve been sent to deliver a message to you, Masquerade.”

“Oh? The source?”

“Yuuji Subaru.”

From beneath the folds of the black cloak, a hand wrapped in black bandages emerged, clutching a small scroll contained in a metal case. The Assassin casually tossed the encased scroll over the three meter gap between himself and the purple-clad Nukenin. Masquerade caught it in one hand, the ease of the catch due more to the excellence of the throw, rather than any exceptional hand-eye coordination on his part. While the Jinchuuriki’s fingers moved to the top of the metal case to twist it open, his obscured eyes were not diverted from the Assassin. Not until he voiced what was on his mind.

“And pray tell, how exactly did you find me?” he inquired casually, after which he focused down on the case he had just opened. As Masquerade slid the scroll out of its container, he heard the Assassin snort confidently before giving his reply.

“I have my skills,” the skull-masked male answered, at the precise moment when Masquerade unrolled the message in his hands. Before perusing its contents, however, the Jinchuuriki looked back up at Assassin, only to find that the latter had vanished. Blinking in genuine surprise, Masquerade looked around the area, but was unable to get a visual on the Assassin’s location; not even a quick scan of the surroundings for a chakra signature yielded any results. The rogue Black Ops had effectively vanished without a trace.

“Indeed, he does,” Masquerade noted in an impressed manner, referring to the Assassin’s comment about his talents. Quite exceptional, how he had managed to sneak up on Masquerade without his noticing, and then depart in the same spectral manner. Impressive - and a little frightening. If the Assassin had come with the intent to harm Masquerade, his light-feet would have certainly put the element of surprise on his side. Worrying, indeed… But, the masked shinobi was not going to spend time fretting over this possible scenario. He had a message to read. So, lowering his sights to the paper in his hands, he focused on the letter sent to him by Yuuji Subaru - his “business associate”, as Masquerade preferred to call him.

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

Hello, Masquerade. It’s been some time since we last spoke, right? I hope you’re not in any difficulty at the moment - and if you are, then, with any luck, Tougai-san will be able to help you out. He’s kind of a scary fella, but I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine! Rumi-chan assured me that he’d find you no matter where you were; he’s apparently an ace at tracking. If you’re reading this, then she was right!

Anyway, I’ll get to the point. I heard that you were in Cha no Kuni, so I’d like to ask you to fetch something for me from there. There’s this old house that I want you to head over to, under which you’ll find a large chamber. I’ve attached a map to help guide you. There should be a casket somewhere in that room beneath the house. It will be gold and brown, made of wood. You’ll know it when you see it, trust me. I’d appreciate it if you could find it for me, and have it sent back with Tougai-san. He’s been instructed to wait at a hotel near the place (again, I’ve marked it on the map). I need that casket as soon as possible, see, so it would be great if you could retrieve it real quick. Thanks!

By the way, one interesting little fact: that place was one of your Dad’s many hideouts. He had set up lots of safe houses in different countries, in case he needed a place like that during his search. And by search, I mean when he was looking for you, of course. Anyway: I figured I’d mention that tidbit of info, in case you needed some extra motivation! But I’m sure you’ll help a brother out, regardless!

Good luck, my friend!

Masquerade snorted loudly as he finished reading the letter. “Hmph. “Friend”, he says.” There was no signature or name given to identify the writer, but he had no doubts that the author was indeed Subaru; he would have deduced as much even if the Assassin named Tougai (cranium) had not told him who the letter was from. Masquerade had spent plenty of time in the man’s company, and he had picked up on the quirks that could make him recognizable. Consulting the attached map, the Nukenin examined the detailed image thoughtfully. He had a vague idea of where he was currently positioned on the off-white parchment, but he would have to ascertain his exact bearings to properly find the house Subaru mentioned. Assuming, of course, that he was going to fulfill the man’s request.

“Really. What does he take me for?” the shinobi muttered out loud. “Could he have not simply asked our Assassin friend to run this errand for him?”

Despite having voiced the query to no one (so it seemed, at least), Masquerade found the Shichibi responding to his words, much like she had been doing for a considerable amount of time. “We both know you’ll do it anyway. Subaru’s helped you out lots of time in the past, right? I know you’re the type of person who’ll pay back anyone who assists you. Plus, maybe he thought you’d like to visit one of the places your father used to live at?”

Raising his head from the map, Masquerade cocked his head to the side like a bird. “You know what, Shichibi? He’s absolutely right. I am intrigued by that prospect.” Rolling up the letter and map and returning both to the metal case, which he then pocketed, Masquerade directed his sights northward; he knew there to be a settlement in that direction, as that had been the origin of the path he had traversed today. Backtracking seemed to be the best course of action to verify his precise location on map. “Well then: let’s see what kind of tastes Otou-sama had in decorating.” Spinning round on his heels, the Nukenin was immobile only for a second before he broke into a run, heading back the way he had come.

It amused him, really. He was entertained by how accurately Subaru and the Shichibi had predicted his actions. In actuality, he would have done as Subaru asked without the “incentive” of visiting a location that his parent had resided in. As the Bijuu had reasoned, Subaru had assisted Masquerade numerous times, and always in exchange for nothing. Masquerade may be part of the criminal class, but he was not a jerk - not completely, at least. If someone showed him genuine kindness, he would reciprocate. Why? Because someone who was nice once could possibly be relied upon during difficult times - and the opportunistic Masquerade would prefer to “exploit” as many strangers’ generosity as he could. In Subaru’s case, though, he sincerely felt indebted to the man, for reasons that would take too long to detail. The point was, Masquerade saw no reason why he should not do this favor for Subaru. It would be highly beneficial to remain in the man’s good graces, given how useful he had proven to be. He was an asset that Masquerade preferred to have on his side.

That, and Subaru was probably the only person Masquerade could legitimately call “a friend” - but of course, such a notion would never cross his mind, or be admitted.

It had taken the good part of three hours to locate and arrive at the area where his father’s hideout was said to be. The Nukenin had stopped to ask for directions at least twice, given his deficiency of knowledge concerning the country’s land. But, he was ultimately able to reach his destination, which was an extensive stretch of hilly land. On one of the hills was his objective, easily spotted from a distance: a dilapidated construct of aged and neglected wood and stone. A broken chimney; a roof that had partially caved in; vines and other greenery growing along the weathered walls; the place was in a sorry state, having been abandoned long ago to the decaying influence of time. Based on what he had been told when asking about this house’s whereabouts, no one had lived in it for over two decades. Supposedly, there was some “bad energy” that had kept people from inhabiting it again.

What superstitious absurdity. Obviously, if his father had been using this place as a hideout, he would have wanted to make sure no one approached it. The Nukenin had a hunch that his father had perpetuated the rumor of there being something “wrong” with the house. And even if he had not, the man had been making use of the place for his agenda, which meant it was not haunted at all. To assume otherwise was purely idiotic, or so was the opinion of his realistic mind.

Breaking into a sprint, Masquerade moved rapidly over the uneven landscape and neared the crumbling house. He would slow to a casual walk as he approached the structure, his masked face turning slowly as he peered round. Stepping into the house and the dimmer lighting within comparison to the outside, Masquerade pondered his next actions momentarily. Naturally, since the hideout was below the house, he would have to locate a means of descending down to it. Perhaps there was some stairs, a secret passage, or something…?

“Just burrow into the ground, and keep going down until you find the hideout.”

The Nukenin blinked. That… is actually a good idea. Thank you, Shichibi. Exiting the house, he stood on natural soil and formed a short sequence of seals. Without further delay, his wiry frame sank into the earth. Submerged fully, Masquerade moved under the house and began heading lower. Less than a minute would pass before he was tunneling, not through soil, but air. Without warning, he emerged from a stone ceiling into the lightless air of a stone cavern. However, the burrowing shinobi realized too late that he was no longer surrounded by earth. He fell straight out of the hole he had made in the ceiling, landing face-first on the rocky floor hidden in the dark.

After a few seconds of grumbling and hissing at the pain assaulting his face, Masquerade would lower his hands from his (fortunately) undamaged mask. His head then swiveled around as he tried to see through the gloom, only to frown behind his face wear. It was pitch black down here, and he had not thought to bring a light. Shaking his head at his own unpreparedness, Masquerade rose to his feet and formed more handseals, before he slapped the palms of his hands together. When they were pulled apart, a glowing spear of Raiton materialized in between his separated palms, hovering in the air long enough for him to grasp one end in his hand. The luminous spear provided only a few meager feet of illumination, but it would have to suffice for now.

Raising the creation of Raiton chakra as high as he could, Masquerade scanned his surroundings using the little light it offered. All he saw was stone. Stone everywhere. Nothing worth looking at. But, he was sure that he was in the right place. Now, he merely had to find this casket that Subaru had spoken of. Hopefully, a task that would not prove to be too difficult.

Jutsu Used:

Chakra Remaining:

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

Senju Yashin. The name belonged to Masquerade’s father, the man who was responsible for the Nukenin’s Jinchuuriki status. The man was once one of Konoha’s strongest shinobi, with his strength rivalled only by the incorruptible loyalty he had for his village. Yashin had practically been obsessed with the safety of Konoha and its citizens. So much so, that he had “kidnapped” his own newborn son to transform him into a vessel of the Shichibi. His plan was to have his offspring become Konoha’s strongest trump card. To accomplish this deed, he received assistance from Yuuji Subaru, who at the time was a member of a (now-disbanded) organization that researched and kept tabs on the nine Bijuu. Subaru, being the Shichibi’s specialist, actually set up and partook in the sealing of the Bijuu.

However, due to circumstances that were beyond Yashin’s control, the father lost possession of his son on the same night he made the latter a Jinchuuriki. After that, Yashin had supposedly spent over a decade searching for his son, in the hopes of continuing the plan he had started years ago. Aiding him in this endeavor, in his own way, was Subaru; apparently, the two men had forged a sincere friendship from their time together. It was because of this bond between the two men that Masquerade was able to obtain knowledge about his father’s motivations from Subaru; Yashin had confided in Subaru the reasons for his actions, and this information was later passed on to Masquerade when the son asked for it. And it was probably this same friendship that compelled Subaru to help Masquerade so often.

“Lost in thought, Kai?” the Shichibi observed, interrupting the Jinchuuriki’s ruminations. “Thinking about your father?”

Rather than be disgruntled by the disturbance, Masquerade smirked under the white mask. Ah, you know me so well, Shichibi. But then, anyone who has spent an hour in my presence will learn how contemplative I can be.

“Well, be careful. If you don’t watch where you’re going, you might trip and actually break your mask this time.”

Watch where he was going, huh? Sound advice; one that he had been following for a while now. The past ten minutes had consisted of measured, cautious strides through darkness. His eyes were watchful of every step, ensuring he did not lose his balance on anything. The minimal radiance from his Raiton jutsu was doing an adequate job in illuminating his path, so all that was required of him was attentiveness. The slow pace was the only reason it took the Nukenin so long to cover an otherwise short distance. Very soon, he was not walking on rough, rocky terrain, but standing at the beginnings of a wooden floor. Lifting his light source higher, he immediately spotted a gas lamp above his head. As luck would have it, there was still fuel in the lamp, thus allowing the Nukenin the benefit of improved visibility. With the lamp on and his jutsu terminated, Masquerade stepped into what he now saw to be a modestly-sized room (ten feet high, and twelve-by-fifteen feet at its base). Standing in the archway that served as the entrance to the room from the tunnel behind him, Masquerade slowly swept a mildly intrigued gaze over the space.

There were several desks and chests of drawers, a bookshelf that reached to the ceiling, and a rather uncomfortable-looking bed. Every piece of furniture was covered in visible dust, and looked as if it had been neglected and unused for years. Which was it probably had. Masquerade’s father had not been here in over five years. How did the Nukenin know this? Because the parent had died years ago at the hands (or hand) of his son. A tragic story, that; one that would be best narrated at a more convenient time. Right now, Masquerade had a casket to find, hence the need to concentrate on the present rather than the past. Clapping his gloved hands together once and rubbing them slowly, he advanced forward and began his search of the room.

The few candles he soon found helped ease his rummaging, but it was still a boring task. For at least fifteen minutes, he went from one possible storage spot to another. Nothing in or on any of the numerous desks, apart from lots of stacked papers and notebooks that he had no present interest in examining. The multitude of drawers and cabinets he looked through were mostly empty, or held more papers and/or notebooks. The majority of his findings were things that his father had no doubt written for his convenience. If the shinobi found the time, he might go through some of them; for now, he had a job to focus on.

His black-gloved hand gripped a drawer’s handle and pulled, but it refused to slide open. Hmm… Promising. Potential success, maybe? The Nukenin had found the first locked drawer in his entire search. Since it was one of the last places he had to left to look, Masquerade was confident that the casket was in this particular drawer. So, snatching a kunai out of his weapons pouch, he bent down on one knee in front of the desk, and wedged the metal knife into the gap between the drawer and the desk, where he guessed the lock to be. With some twisting and pulling, his use of the kunai as a makeshift crowbar proved an inevitable success: following a good amount of effort and straining, the drawer slid out abruptly (and nearly smashed into his face). Returning the kunai to his pouch, Masquerade stood up and looked into the drawer.

“Ah, here we are,” he remarked delightedly, lifting the rectangular casket out of the drawer with both hands. “Gold and brown. Just as described.” He smiled behind the mask while examining the foot-long container. A very sturdy padlock prevented him from opening it, which was a darn shame. Call him nosy, but Masquerade would have liked to know what was so special about this casket’s contents, for Subaru to want it so badly. Oh well. He would just have to ask the man about it some other time.

The man in the mask was about to close the drawer and turn away, when something caught his eye. There was another object in the drawer apart from the casket. It was another notebook, bound in a red, leathery cover. Masquerade would not have paid the book any mind, if it was not for the fact that it had been stashed in the same locked drawer as the casket. The lock had made it clear that the casket’s contents were important; if the book had been hidden in here as well, then it must have some value, too. Curiosity stimulated, Masquerade set the casket aside and picked up the book. Flipping it open, he saw the same handwriting in it as he had seen on the other papers and notebooks lying around the room. As with the aforementioned, he assumed that this penmanship was his father’s as well.

It appeared to be a journal. A record of some sort. The first several pages were taken up by nothing but cutouts from maps, all with circles and arrows drawn onto them at various points; like the author was searching for something. Yes. It looked like his father had been investigating the whereabouts of someone (or something), and this book was a record of his progress. Was it concerning his search for Masquerade? No, that did not seem to be the case. Masquerade may not know the map of the world by heart, but he was positive that he had not been to any of the locations mentioned in this journal - not at the point when his father was still alive, that is. No, this was an attempt to track someone else.

Who this person was, he did not have to ponder for long. By turning the pages of the book, he eventually came to a section where Yashin had made various entries in the journal. Stopping randomly at one entry, he skimmed the words, before moving onto another, and then another. By the fourth one, he was frowning in bemusement. The entries he read were brief and uninformative, as if the writer had merely jotted down a few sentences in frustration. It seemed his father had merely noted his feelings regarding his unsuccessful investigation - over and over again, to the point that it became repetitive and trite. The person being tracked was vaguely spoken about, with no definite reason given for why the search was being conducted, or what connection Yashin had to this person. All Masquerade discerned was that the target of the search was female, and that it was extremely important that Yashin find her. Oh, and the woman’s name was mentioned several times, too.

Still reading through the book, a puzzled Masquerade slowly mumbled, “Who is… “Kinomi”?”

He had not asked the question in anticipation of an answer. It had merely been a means of conveying his confusion, and clarifying where his thoughts were at the moment. He had definitely not been expecting the Shichibi to respond - well, a pointless comment or observation was predicted, but not an actual answer.

“Wait a minute… Kinomi? I’ve… I’ve heard that name before. If I recall correctly… that’s your mother’s name…”

Masquerade was quiet for a full two seconds.

“What?” he deadpanned, looking up from the book.

“Yes, I’m sure of it.” The voice in his head was not speaking to him directly. The insect Bijuu sounded like she was talking to herself, as one appeared to when they were recollecting something. “I only heard him say it once, but I’m positive Yashin called that woman “Kinomi”.”

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

“Shichibi. Elaborate.”

The book had vanished from his hands; the room had rippled into darkness before rematerializing into a dim, stone cavern of gargantuan proportions - so vast, that the walls of the cave were completely hidden in shadows. In the background, a relentless beating was reverberating throughout the space; it would be unnervingly loud to the unprepared, but Masquerade barely even noticed it at this point. As the world had changed, the masked Nukenin had turned around to meet the eight-eyed gaze of the Bijuu. As always, the Shichibi was restrained by her chains and shackles, strung up from the cavern’s obscured boundaries like a hideous chandelier. The six legs and the reptilian tail were locked in a single, thick bracer under her abdomen; the six, majestic wings had been spread out and jammed through chained shackles; her neck and abdomen were clamped in another restraint. All these body parts were completely immovable, the tightness of the bonds mercilessly and uncomfortably imprisoning the being of chakra. Indeed, the Shichibi’s bindings were so sturdy, she could not even tilt her head down to look at her host; all she could do was stare directly ahead of her. She surely disliked the indestructibility of the bindings. No creature, sentient or otherwise, would enjoy such harsh treatment. But as always, the Bijuu showed no signs of displeasure at her prison’s rigidity. She spoke with such cordiality, that one would think she was lounging relaxingly on a sofa.

“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t heard the story yet. Weird. I’d think you would have asked by now.”

“Well, whatever this question is, I am certainly asking now. So, please -.” He raised a hand, palm up, at the Shichibi. “- elaborate. Unless you’re just going to evade the question, then be forthright about it.” His did not have to be so distrustful, though. The Bijuu was all too willing to share “the story”, and she proceeded to do so without any more delay.

“Let’s see… I first heard that name the night you became my host. Both your parents were there as well. After I was sealed into you, I could still see and hear what was going on outside. Well, I could see to a certain extent, but my hearing was unaffected. Your parents looked like they were arguing or something. Apparently, Kinomi wasn’t aware of Yashin’s plan to make you a Jinchuuriki. You’ve yet to hear this, but Yashin had orchestrated a mock kidnapping; he had hired people to abduct you one night. It seems your mother was the person meant to be fooled by this ploy. When Kinomi managed to get this information out of Yashin, she sounded mortified. I remember her calling Yashin a “monster” for sealing a, well, monster into you.” The female insect sounded a little amused as she said that last part, and if her face could emote, she would definitely have been grinning at this point. But, her armored face remained as unmoving as her host’s masked one.

“The argument got pretty heated and loud after that. Well, actually, Kinomi was the one who got louder and angrier. She was going on about horrible Yashin’s actions were, and how he’d betrayed her trust. I thought she was going to start strangling your father at any moment. On the other hand, Yashin was practically pleading to her as he tried to justify his intentions - “it was all for Konoha”. It was… kind of pitiful, really. The way he kept repeating those words… It was like he thought saying it enough times would make Kinomi see things his way. But, surprise, surprise: it didn’t work one bit. Your mother wasn’t going to accept what he’d done, and or let him have his way. I may be wrong, but I think she cast a Genjutsu on Yashin to distract him; it must have been a powerful illusion, considering how skilled a shinobi your father was. Anyway, with Yashin distracted, Kinomi had snatched you up and made a run for it.

However, Yashin was on our tail in a matter of minutes - and boy, was he pissed. That man looked like he was out for blood. He wasn’t going to let Kinomi get away, but she wasn’t going to give you back. So naturally, the two started fighting. I’ll be honest, Kai: you have some scary parents. Not only were they both powerful, but when they were angered, they were downright crazy. Seriously, you should have seen the way they were fighting. Yashin wasn’t even that aggressive when he was trying to capture me, and Kinomi was causing so much collateral damage, despite being on the defensive! Honestly, they were both out of their minds.”

Masquerade cleared his throat loudly and obviously, indicating that the Bijuu stick to the point. If she could have, the Shichibi would have rolled her octad of eyes. Maybe she did, but Masquerade couldn’t tell because of the distance.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay on topic.

So, Yashin and Kinomi continued their fighting-chasing routine for a while; eventually, Kinomi managed to lose him long enough to drop you off at that town. You know. That place you grew up in, which you love sooo much? Heheh. Anyway, she must have covered her tracks well, because Yashin didn’t find you there - which is quite obvious. As for your mother, that was the last I saw of her. She left you at that town, and ran off afterwards. Probably to draw her pursuer’s attention away from your location. I have no idea what happened to her after that. I had assumed all this time that Yashin had caught up to her at some point and killed her, but based on what you found in that journal, she clearly escaped.”

The Shichibi paused for a second. “And that’s it. That’s where I heard the name “Kinomi”, and there’s no doubt that this is the same person that your father was talking about in that book. Seems he’s been looking for her since that night.”

With the conclusion of the Bijuu’s narrative, Masquerade lowered his head to apparently stare at the stone floor. His gaze was only briefly averted, for it soon returned to the suspended Shichibi. An index finger was brought level to his mask’s “mouth”, curling inwards and hovering in front of the black curve. Based on his body language, Masquerade was clearly smirk beneath the face accessory. “You know, Shichibi: you could have just stopped after saying that both my parents were present on the night you were sealed within me. Everything following that was rather… superfluous.”

An onlooker would have sworn that the smile on his mask looked as cheeky as he sounded. Tricks of the light aside, the shinobi had a point. As vague as his single-worded command of “elaborate” had been, his only intent had been to determine when (or where) the Shichibi had heard the name “Kinomi”. All she had needed to say was that she had heard Masquerade’s father address a woman as such, during the Bijuu’s sealing. That would have sufficed. Yet, the Shichibi had continued her narration without pause. It was like she was a character in a piece of fiction, whose sole purpose was to provide exposition. And through very poorly-planned and forced dialogue, as well!

And Masquerade’s job appeared to be wasting a reader’s time by mulling over such useless facts.

The Bijuu huffed in annoyance that was discernable only by tone and demeanor. “Hmph. If you thought it was so superfluous, Kai, then why didn’t you stop me?”

Broad, bony shoulders were shrugged. “Clearly, I enjoy the sound of your voice,” he answered mockingly, spreading his arms apart in a “what can you do?” gesture. “Besides - your tale makes for a lovely bedtime story.”

“Is that so? Well then, you just let Mommy know if you want more bedtime stories. Okay, sweetie?” A smug snicker issued from the Bijuu at the visible shudder her host gave. Not only was Masquerade displeased at being called “sweetie” (since he disliked being referred to by anything other than his alias), but the insect’s saccharine tone had been repulsive by itself. He knew the Shichibi was joking, but God-dammit, that just sounded weird. Masquerade would swear that if she could, the Shichibi would have winked playfully at him as she said those words.

Once again, he was mulling over useless facts.

Age : 31 Posts : 1836

A blink of his eyes, and he had returned to the real world. His father’s journal still lay open in his hands, and his position in the room remained unchanged. As far as anyone would be able to tell, the Jinchuuriki and the Bijuu had not engaged in a lengthy discussion (if it could be called that) in a realm seemingly untouched by time. Indeed, barely a second passed between the moments when Masquerade entered and exited his psyche. Nothing had changed in the outside world in that time frame, but the Jinchuuriki had changed. He had acquired knowledge about events he previously had no information on: how he had ended up in the pathetic town that he had grown up in, and how his parents had quarreled over conflicting plans for his future. The tale that the Shichibi had shared moments ago, while unwarranted, had been highly informative. Masquerade had never really put much thought into what might have transpired on the night he became a Jinchuuriki. He had no idea that his parents had had such a massive feud, leaving him with an orphaned future. Oddly enough, Masquerade had never given much thought to the fate of his mother; his parental ponderings had always been strictly limited to his father.

Now, however, he had a reason to dwell on the subject of his female parent. The woman named Kinomi, who had tried to protect Masquerade from a fate she thought to be cruel and arduous. She had incurred the wrath of her husband in order to do what she thought was best for her child. On the other hand, the husband had done what he thought was best, too, when he had made the son a Jinchuuriki. Granted, the father was only looking at the bigger picture, while the mother had been more focused on the present; but in a sense, they were both trying to do something for the benefit of others. Yashin wanted to protect his village. Kinomi wanted to protect her son. The tragedy was how one desire had to be foregone for the other’s success.

Lapsing into silence, Masquerade resumed his perusal of the journal, flipping through the pages slowly and alertly. It was after several minutes of noiseless reading that he mumbled in a soft voice. Not to himself, but to the entity within him.

“Shichibi… Why do you think my father was searching for my mother?”

The query seemed an odd one to make, and the Shichibi appeared to take a few seconds to wonder why her host was asking something so obvious. Well, obvious to her, at least. “Considering how she single-handedly set back Yashin’s plans by taking you away from him, he was probably looking for her to get revenge or something. I would say he planned to punish her for ruining everything he’d worked towards. Plus, I’m sure he needed her to ease his quest to find you. Your mother was the only one who knew where you’d been left, after all.”

“So you postulate that Otou-sama sought her to extract information, or seek retribution?” he remarked thoughtfully.

“I think I said it clearly enough that you didn’t have to rephrase it, but yes. That’s what I “postulate”.”

“Hmmm...” The Jinchuuriki flipped back through the book, stopping at a specific page. “Do you truly believe so?” As he said that, Masquerade held the book closer to himself, implying that he wanted the Shichibi to read what was written in it. He allowed the Bijuu some time to read the entire text, before turning to the next page. And then the next. Six times he would do this, before the Shichibi finally voiced her thoughts.

“Huh. Looks like you’re right. That doesn’t seem to be the reason at all.”

“Indeed. It doesn’t,” Masquerade agreed, returning to the journal’s contents. Both he and the Shichibi thoughtfully read through Yashin’s entries. These were not the words of a man hungering for vengeance. Far from it, actually. The hand that wrote this was influenced, not by rage, but by regret. Initially, Yashin had only mentioned - frantically and repeatedly - how he had to “find her”. After some pages, however, his tone changed. The frenzied words were replaced by more coherent and reflective sentences. Instead of just obsessively writing down that he had to locate Kinomi, Yashin was writing more about her. Indeed, if Masquerade had bothered to read further before wondering out loud who Kinomi was, he would have eventually gotten his answer.

Several times, the paragraphs of thoughts that his father had expressed on these sheets described Kinomi as his wife. The manner in which he wrote about her, and the things he wrote about her… It was not with anger, but with compassion. Memories and reflections of moments that the two had shared together, descriptions of her personality and her appearance, and so much more could be found in these passages. If Masquerade did not know any better, he would have thought he was reading someone’s love diary. His father was not using this book as a means to vent his frustrations. No, this was a way for him to express the obvious love he held for his spouse - even after she had (as the Shichibi put it) “ruined everything he had worked for”. Yashin may have been trying to harm his wife on that night decades ago, but after that, all he seemed to want to do was find her, so that he could (in his own words) “seek forgiveness”. The Shichibi had been wrong: the husband was not searching for the wife because he was angry. He was doing it because he was ashamed. Ashamed of hurting her - physically, mentally, and emotionally. After all that had transpired, and all that either had done to each other, Yashin still seemed to have loved Kinomi with all his being.

It left the Nukenin... stupefied.

“Kai?” The Bijuu actually sounded… concerned. Her voice was gentle and soft. Much like the tone one would adopt when trying to comfort an emotional person. “Are you okay?”

Masquerade curtly snapped the journal shut, obscured face rising up to look straight ahead. “Spectacularly,” he replied tonelessly, though he must surely have been lying. He might normally be emotionally stable, but his heart was not so hardened that something like this wouldn’t… move him. Considering how personal the issue was, Masquerade should feel touched by his father’s sweet thoughts. Or maybe he ought to be nauseated by them? Whichever reaction was more human, there was no way to be sure what the Nukenin was feeling, thanks to the thing on his face literally masking his emotions.

Silently, Masquerade set the book down on top of the casket he had pulled out of the drawer earlier. He then stepped across the room and towards one of the many desks of stacked papers and notebooks. Without pause, the shinobi began rummaging through them with purpose. After going through every item on one desk, he moved to another, and then the next. The bookshelves, the cabinets, and every drawer: he was searching through them all once again. Only this time, it was more diligently. This time, he was actually examining each and every sheet or book he came across, and anything else. It was unclear what he was looking for. The Bijuu within him soon made her own curiosity known.

“What are you looking for?”

She thought he might not answer, but he did unhesitatingly.

“For something similar.” His words were vague, but the Shichibi did not need any further clarification. The object of the Jinchuuriki’s search was something that could tell him more about Yashin’s thoughts regarding his actions and/or family. Additionally, anything that gave more information about Masquerade’s parents in general would be welcomed. The Nukenin may or may not be bottling his emotions, but he was definitely curious. His interest had been stimulated; he wanted to know anything else he could about either parent.

Several minutes later, Masquerade found something promising in one of the drawers. He slowly picked up a rectangular photograph, in which the scene was on three people. The tall, broad-shouldered man with brown hair and eyes was easily recognized as Senju Yashin. To his left was a beautiful woman with long, crimson hair, and eyes colored similarly to Masquerade’s attire. The Nukenin did not need the Shichibi’s confirmation to identify this woman - she was, undoubtedly, his mother. In the duo’s arms was a newborn, and by the looks of it, barely six months old. Once again, no clarification had to be given. It was obvious who the baby in the picture was.

Keeping a family photo was as cliché and corny as it got, but Masquerade had to admit that his father’s sentimentality was giving him a lot of insight. Not only had he learned more about Yashin’s mindset, but he had obtained satisfying information about his mother, as well. Plus, he now had an idea of what he looked like as a baby, as this was literally the first picture he had seen of himself that didn’t have a bounty printed under it. Anyway: apart from the fact that he now had a face to put to his mother’s name, there was one other feature in the photograph that was just as eye-catching, and that was background. Behind the family was a house, and there was no difficulty in identifying it as the very residence under which Masquerade currently stood. The structure in the image may be in excellent condition, and the one overheard on the verge of collapse, but the similarities were blatant even to someone as architecturally ignorant as Masquerade.

A faint chuckle could not be suppressed as Masquerade swept his gaze upwards. “Curious. I suppose the appropriate term would be: “home, sweet home”? Heh.” Ah, this day was just ridiculously filled with surprises. It was almost unbelievable how much he had discovered today. A hideout Yashin had used, a journal containing the man’s greatest regret, and the very house the Nukenin had been born in? Astounding. Perhaps he should try his hand at treasure hunting, given how preposterously lucky he’d been so far. It was almost laughable. In fact, that was exactly what he did: laugh. A gloved hand palmed his masked face, and a soft chuckle emanated from the male for a full minute.

When he was done giving people a reason to question his sanity, Masquerade lowered his hand from his face, and looked down at the photo thoughtfully. It was only a fleeting glance, however, as he was soon returning to the side of the room where he had left the casket and journal. He set the photo down with the two items, and after retrieving a small satchel he had come across during his two searches of the room, he stuffed all three objects into said bag. Securing the satchel onto his shoulder, Masquerade swept a final gaze across the room. For now, he was done with this place. Perhaps he would return to sate any further curiosity that may arise. Presently, he had a task to complete, and he had been sidetracked long enough. A part of him still wanted to remain and search through more of Yashin’s belongings, but he stifled such wants. It was time to depart from this place. Thus, he grabbed one of the candles on a nearby table, and made his way swiftly out of the room to the adjoining tunnel. As he stepped through the darkness, both he and the Shichibi were silent, probably lost in their own thoughts. The human certainly was.

A very short while later, the Nukenin was stepping out from the house’s inside. After wandering through the tunnel, he had located a flight of stairs under the house; these stairs had led up to a concealed trapdoor in the house’s floor. This trapdoor was the only entrance/exit to the hideout, as far as he could tell. Stopping in his tracks, Masquerade looked over his shoulder at the dilapidated structure whose shadow he stood in. Was it a cause for concern that he felt no actual connection to this place? He had no memory of this house. Actually, he could not recall any memory prior to his years in that town he’d been abandoned at. Thus, there was no sense of attachment to be found for this house.

His father, however, had clearly had some sentiment towards it. That was probably why he had set up a base of operations under this house; he had probably had a hand in keeping anyone from inhabiting it again, too. Masquerade stroked his chin in contemplation. It seemed that Yashin had been a man who was unable to let go of the past. Such was why he had continued to cherish his village, his lost wife, and the house where he had once lived happily with his family, for so many years.

Pitiable, really.

~ Topic Concluded ~