Monzaemon, Kawatake – Thread Weaver
Having gotten word of the terrible incident in the middle of the night Kawatake had been at work since the moment he'd been awoken. Now, exhausted and annoyed from his lack of sleep, he entered the gathering that his brother, strangely had called. He wasn't sure what Uemura would say, but he had an idea that it would likely have something to do with revenge.
As his elder brother called his name he rubbed his temples, a smile touching his features briefly before he banished it, his normal seriousness returning. The man was quick to act, that was for sure, and he'd picked the right people to send, but that didn't mean he wanted to go anymore. Nonetheless, Uemura was the clan head, so he'd obey, especially since times were now so...troubled.
“Understood, Uemura-san,” he called out to his brother before glancing through the crowd to find Tataruki.
“Come, we're needed elsewhere, preparations must be made before we depart,” he waited for her response, and once he got it he began making his way from the gathering. He would hit Uemura later, now wasn't the time.
No, instead it was time for war, something that he neither relished or despised. With the way of the Monzaemon as it was, not to mention his hand in keeping it that way, he could hardly feel either way. Shaking his head and turning his mind back to the mission he stopped outside of the gathering, several buildings away, and waited for Tataruki to catch up. It was going to be a long week, he knew.
She'd been quietly enjoying some time in bed, before one of her kin had rudely awoken her from her thoughts, for she hadn't been sleeping—contrary to the beliefs of most—but rather considering what was to be done about the current state of affairs in regards to the clan. The truth was, they didn't have nearly as much territory as she would've liked. Still expanding meant intruding upon the lands of other clans, some smaller, some of equal power, and some who might even rival them should they get the chance.
Having heard there was trouble of some kind from the aide, she had began dressing herself, doing so quickly and efficiently. It was when she'd just finished her make-up, not that she needed much of it—having inherited her mother's stunning beauty and all—that the messenger from her father arrived.
“There's been a killing,” she could hardly believe what she was hearing even as she rose to greet the man. Instead a look of rage briefly came over her features, before she took a deep breath and let it fade into a dangerous fuel.
Keep it contained, keep it controlled, deal with it later, she thought to herself, merely giving the man a nod as she exited the large building—the largest in the compound.
It had been built for the head family, and thus was her birthright.
“Tell my father to meet me in the gathering place. I will send out messengers to the rest of the clan and those on missions as soon as I've spoken to him. Oh, and have someone fetch my brother,” she added the last bit hastily even as her mind turned from that issue and began to figure how to tell the clan what had happened without instilling the same rage that she now buried in the pit of her stomach.
She'd make her conclusion once her father arrived, he'd debrief her, then things could progress.
With this in mind she headed towards a nearby forest, intending to go to the location where her mother's body lay. She simply called it Solace clearing and it was the place that the clan gathered when they needed to. This was where Toyotomi would meet her and where she would be when he got the message. In the meantime, she would have to think of how to suitably deal with this issue, for even without the circumstances or knowledge of the culprit, this could not go unpunished.
Her people were not to be made light of, she would have justice, perhaps if it was the last thing she did.
Hopefully it wouldn't be.
Shinku Hyūga – Tasatsu Tsuki
Stealing from the rich to kill the poor and rich both. It was a wonderous prospect, Shinku thought to himself as he neared another town. He had heard there was a diplomat here, heard from a client that was. The diplomat had been troubled by a series of gangs and needed assistance, and so this was where the rogue Hyuga found himself.
First he would find somewhere to stay, somewhere that the diplomat did not know well, then he would locate the man, his funds, and scope out his estate. It was a matter of course, he needed to know how to be in and out of the man's home should the fellow fail to amuse him properly—a fatal occurrence for the guilty.
Humming a tune, Shinku spun a pouch about his finger, it was filled with coin from several jobs quite well done. They'd been enjoyable too, though he didn't quite like work for the client, nor the others who'd assisted him in the effort. Still, he'd been promised more work at a later date and the sum had been plenty to briefly satisfy the Hyuga's greed.
Grinning he glanced about, his white eyes piercing everything before them as he did so. People shrunk from him as he past them, as if they knew the malice he held in his heart—as if they knew he was a killer, no, a predator just waiting to tear out their throats.
The truth of the matter? He was...someone just had to offer him the right reason, or the right price, and he'd do it. It didn't matter whom either. Neither the victim or the client mattered, he'd do it for the money. However, if the client wanted to keep their life, then the victims, and the method by which he was to deal with them, or the reason that it should be done, mattered very much indeed.
Yes, Shinku was tricky for there was a rule ever unsaid, but easily noted, to his trade.
Amuse me and you'll live. Don't, and the same fate will befall you as befell those you paid me to prey upon...and none will be the wiser—and none will be fool enough to pursue me.
No one was. Not yet.
He liked it that way.
Why? Because it meant that he wasn't just
a predator, but instead that he was
the predator, and he was at the top of the food chain.
Man was it luxurious, his life that was. To any who fell beneath his eyes, well, they weren't nearly as lucky.
Poor poor them, eh?
Zume Tatasuko – Suiteiru Meian
A single member of his people eliminated, while not a grave loss, was one that he did not enjoy seeing. He stood over the body, eyes looking down at it, observing each detail. Still, he could not detect a hint of chakra, not a hint of leftover blood or biologically material from the aggressor. No means by which to track the individual so he could tear from him the truth, followed by the man's organs—one by one starting from least necessary and going up the chain till death.
Yes, Zume did not like to see his kin die, he did not enjoy anyone's death, typically, the very idea of killing was often repugnant to him. However, in a world such as this one, it was also necessary at times, even if it was detestable.
Sighing he turned to one of his kin and shook his head, before turning entirely away from the scene and moving to exit the cavern. Before he could his fellow Tatasuko spoke,
“So what are we to do? We cannot let this go unpunished, can we? We are few in number, but we are strong. Could we not wipe out whomever did this, or at least demand they sacrifice one of their own as compensation?!” There was anger in the boy's voice, but Zume did not turn to him.
He did not need to, instead all he said was,
“Yes, we could.” He then departed, only to hear the boy swear and slam his gauntlet covered fist against the stone wall. The shade shook his head as he headed to the central chamber of their current base of operations. They'd be moving again soon. They never stayed still for long, and now, after an attack, was not the time to remain stagnant and easily traceable. No, the only reason they remained was because of his own expertise and the word of the Elder council, which he was now heading to join once more.
With his deductions figured, he knew that not just anyone could have done this. It had to be someone who could sense chakra or at least track reliably. Perhaps someone who utilized earth jutsu could map out these caverns and detect them, perhaps someone with their own kekkei genkai gone rogue. That did happen sometimes, they were not perfect, no one was.
Sighing lightly, he put the thoughts aside as he entered the central chamber, joining the council of seven elders, plus one. The eighth man in the room, ever silent, ever watching, but without opinion.
He did his best to ignore him.
“Nothing. Not a trace. We should move, perhaps send word to the other clans.”
One of the others scoffed,
”What good will that do, but show our weakness and lack of understanding.” Zume did not look at the man, but continued as if he had not heard him.
“I believe this was not an isolated incident, but a planned attack. A provocation meant to instil violence and hatred. With the culprit unknown the clans are left to figure whom did it on their own, through emotion and hatred.”
Another elder spoke,
“Would contacting others not incriminate us further? Perhaps make them think we an easy target? I see no reason to reveal our location, it only puts us at greater risk.” The man was right, but Zume had expected resistance, in fact he'd prepared for it.
“I never said any of you ought to send the message, nor did I specify the messenger,” his abyssal orbs met each of theirs one by one, before settling on the small fire in the center of the room, which they sat about in a circle.
“I will go.” The elders exchanged glances, then after a long moment, nodded in agreement,
“I will send word if I cannot return immediately. Feel no need to inform me of your movements, I'll find the clan when I need to,” they all nodded once again as Zume rose, turning to leave.
A chill touched his shoulder before he could leave, and there he was, the silent member of their council, the eighth man.
“Your efforts to maintain the peace are fruitless,” he said, no emotion or feeling evident in his voice, his breath chilling upon Zume's back in a way that had little to do with temperature.
“I can try,” he heard the man scoff and his hand lifted, at this he left the room. From within he heard the shuffle of the eighth man's foot steps, heading in the opposite direction, disappearing into the caverns they called home.
The caverns that the eighth man had discovered to begin with, the man who had been his brother, Shougaku.
Glancing at the rocky ceiling he preformed several handseals even as he entered his small home and donned his straw hat, its black cloth dangling past its edges to cover his face...and his eyes.
“So it begins again,” he said quietly to himself before the portal opened, his form stepping through it where it disappeared.
The world was turning once more. A new order, a new era, had began to crawl. It was past its infancy. The question was, what would it become?
Uemura Monzaemon
Night- Monzaemon Clan Hall
