The Winter's Blues

How long have I been locked away inside of this cell?


He thought to himself absentmindedly as he watched the light above sway lightly to the left and right. A crime that saved a life, but took on in the process. The deed that severed him from his family and left him a prisoner of his own machinations. Equipped with only three books that he has read front to back dozens of times, the clothes on his back and the sheets he sleeps on every night. How long has it been? He looked to the right of his cell that had the chiseled lines to count for the days. 91 marks littered the wall as he moved over in silence and added another. 92. Ninety-two days since the incident that took him from Shinobi to prisoner. Stepping back he would look at the marks, meticulously made in order and without a stray in their making. Perfect and refined like everything else in the cell. His jet black hair covered his eyes but he could see through it perfectly, the guards making their rounds and dropping off food for the convicts. Most knew he did not really belong in this place, this prison, but it was his choice. Hs atonement for his actions against his family. Exhaling, Midori would sit down on the bed bringing his legs up to his chest as he grabbed a book, The art of Subterfuge and War by an unknown author. He started from the front of the book, turning its pages idly as he murmured to himself the words.

Minutes turned into hours as he continued to silently turn the pages, taking in the intrinsic layouts and maps made in each dedicated page as if he had been in the battles himself. Each phrase and saying giving meaning to battle and how one can improve through loss and battle. A lesson he had still been learning at this moment, but a small smile did appear on his face through the darkness as he turned the page and continued reading. For a moment, he had heard a guard stop to deliver his food for the day, dropping it off and leaving without saying a word. Most knew that he was a quiet one. In the time he had been here, there had been no reports of misbehavior and he always stayed to himself. Even the other current inmates did not attempt to bother him either.

He waited a moment until the guard had left the area. Standing up slowly from the bed he would move quickly to grab the tray and sit back on the bed eating with his left expertly while leafing through the book with his right hand. Today he figured there would be no visitors or anyone to strike up a conversation with him. Being alone was perfect for him... but today would probably change that. Even Midori yearned for the cold touch of the wind upon his warm face and to feel the snow of the world once more. There had been rumors that Satoru, their Kage had left but someone else on the wind had taken the mantle. Whoever it was he would have to meet them at some point, but not until his sentence had been served. Not until he felt as if he had finally....atoned.


557 WC

While You Read:

Since returning to Hyogagakure and being admit through its illustrious gates by Tommy Sinns, the Wretched was immediately expected to report to the palace. The first order of business would be officially adopting Sakaiza as the new Hyogakage since Satoru's decree had been delivered. Still though the public and most of the shinobi force were unaware of this regime change, which was wise so that uprisings would be prevented in his absence from the village. But now that the Wretched man stood within the inner chambers of the palace, he had been subject to the short proceedings which officially recognized him as the new village leader. And so this news was allowed to be conveyed first to the village's shinobi forces, who were nevertheless advised to treat it as confidential. In the same meetings, Sakaiza was briefed on the happenings that transpired between the regime changes. Though most were accords of comers and goers to the village, the status of major constructions, and affairs in the Land of Rice, one of which struck Kai as particularly alarming. 

There had been a recent prisoner, a genin of Hyogagakure, which was remarkably odd. Most typically the shinobi force of the Land of Snow was disciplined, adhering to any and all laws etched into the village's code. But this shinobi in particular, which the incident report identified as Midori Terumi, had a rather unique case. The report was not very descriptive, as the eye witness statement suggested a struggle between Midori and his father, which resulted in the latter's death. His father was of recognizable status through Hyogagakure, being among the first abled bodied men to join the village since Satoru erected it. And so his murder, had taken civilians and shinobi alike by shock, especially once his own son had been suggested as the killer. Motives, alibis, and statements were not included in the report however, but there was indication that Midori had now been imprisoned for just around three months. Given the severity of the crime, and the fact that a village shinobi was the perpetrator the matter was quite urgent. And so, the Wretched man tasked himself with investigating it himself.

The tail of the cloak fastened to his Ghost Coldblooded Commander set danced in the breeze behind him, as Sakaiza set out from the Royal Palace. Although the walk from the Royal Palace to the prison was short, it was predominantly occupied by thoughts which the masked man had on the situation so far. He was unsure what exactly would drive a teenager to murdering his father, but it was a crime nonetheless. The elevated platform which the palace sat upon offered Sakaiza a view he had not seen in over a year. He was able to glance upon the growth the village had, while simultaneously taking in the elegance of the ice carved features of the land. Something a prisoner native to the Land of Snow would undoubtedly long for. Perhaps it could be a bargaining chip when speaking with this Terumi.

The pathway would lead Sakaiza East from the palace and subsequently North and into the threshold of the military's base of operations. Once inside, his status was immediately recognized by the authoritative figures inside, and they'd greet him with a salute of respect. 

"I am here to speak with a prisoner, Midori."

The figure in charge would nod, and motion Sakaiza to follow him. The pair would proceed towards the rear of the building which was concluded with a single door. To the right of it was a fuinjutsu seal, which the officer would place his hand upon and it would glow a vibrant blue. An audible unlatch of the door would occur, which would place the men in a stairwell. In its entirety it descended downwards 20 floors, where each of the floors was representative of a different layer dedicated to specific military operations. The first ten floors spanned the entire height of the raised platform which overlooked the village, with the tenth being at the village's ground level. The subsequent 10 floors were beneath the surface of the earth. At the fifthteenth floor, there was another door with a fuinjutsu seal adjacent to it. The guard placed his hand upon it once more, and it led the men down a 150 long meter hallway South which ultimately met another door and fuinjutsu seal. Repeating the process, the door would open and the men would now be standing within the underground prison, situated 200 meters below the village's epicenter. 

Having escorted Sakaiza this far, the guard would depart and return to his post. And the warden of the prisoner would inquire about Sakaiza's purpose here. He'd repeat his motives of speaking with Midori, which the warden would raise an eyebrow to, but would nevertheless assign a prison guard to escort Sakaiza to a meeting room. Another guard would be instructed to retrieve Midori from his cell, bind his hands, and walk him to the meeting room.

At this point, Sakaiza stood waited in the 5 x 10 meter meeting room. Equipped in his midnight black ghost armor, his horned mask to maintain anonymity, and all of his relevant weapons. His chakra signature bled an essence of Yuumei, a sorrow filled past, but was immensely dense as a testament of his hardened life. And his demeanor was rigid, unwavering, and exuded confidence and authority.

+2 Yuumei Stacks
WC = 898

The silence was somewhat calming to him as he continued to flip through the book, his food finished at this point and his left hand returning to the back of the book to give it support once more. As he continued to read he could hear the clinking of keys against someone's side. The cadence in someone's steps as they continued onward. He counted each step meticulously as he wagered it was the guard to come back for the tray or someone had been coming to retrieve him. It took roughly 3,672 steps, give or take, to arrive to his particular cell. He continued to count until getting to 3,671 and paused as he chuckled lowly to himself and smiled," Looks like I was off by one number. I'll have to remember that for later," his eyes never left the pages of the book. He continued to read until he heard the cage of his rattle and shake as if someone was opening it and once it clattered open, he could hear the guard step in. Looking over the book, he would peer through the locks of his hair at the guard who had reached for his binding tools and instructed Midori to stand. A couple of scenarios had ran through his mind and he was not going to bother asking the Guard which of them it was. Standing up, he would place the finished book onto the bed neatly, and hold his hands to the front in a cooperative manner. He was not going to fight whatever had been going on here was either important or he was about to be released, but his sentence was yet to be up. Many more ideas popped into his head as he walked forward, head low but high enough to where he could see through his hair. He walked in silence allowing the cadence of his footsteps mixed in with the guards to fill the crevices in his mind while he continued to think of the possible reasons why he was brought out of his cell. He did not have anyone to come visit him, and even if he did he would refuses them. The guard made no mention as to why he was being brought up so that added to the allure of the reason.'

For some time the two walked until he found himself standing outside of a room unknown to him at least. He had never seen it during his stay here and that's probably because he rarely left his cell outside of showering and the small amounts of walking he did during recess. He took in the dimensions of the room, muttering to himself the shapes and curvatures that went into it before he was lead into it by the guard. When the door opened he could catch a glimpse of a man inside, what he assumed was a man based on their build and stature. As he was walked in and past them he took notice of the armor, the mask, and weapons and figured him to be a shinobi of the village which could have meant plenty of things, but assumptions were never his forte. As he was sat down parallel to Sakaiza, he placed his hands upon the table, a universal sign of respect and even then there was not much he could do to the male even if his hands were unbound. He sat up straight and continued to observe the male through the bangs of his hair. The way the mask had been made was unique, he had never seen anything like it and he admired the craftsmanship that went into it. The armor was also nicely made, and while he did not use weapons one could always note key craftsman ship without seeing the blade itself. His eyes would return back to the masked individual as he cleared his throat slightly and finally after a few moments of silence he would speak," I take it you aren't here for an autograph and since I never have visitors i'm not sure we know one another. So forgive my rudeness but what is it I can do for you? Judging by appearance, you may be someone higher up. That armor is expertly crafted and not like anything a genin like m-," he cut himself short as he corrected himself and continued," a genin would be seen wearing. Just based on how you stand and carry yourself you are someone strong, far stronger than i. Silence speaks volumes but you seem as if you can fill several libraries," this just showed his observant nature even when placed in a position of the unknown.

Bringing his hands together he would take in a deep breathe as he figured it out, at least partially," Given the variables available to me you must be here to speak on why I am in here...and why I did it aren't you?," he would raise his head to where at least presumably one could tell he was looking directly at them even if his eyes were hidden. The amber eyed male often questioned the motive of others, it was just something he used to gauge and learn about them. Something told him however this interaction would not be the same as the others and perhaps he would be thrown for a loop. Only time would tell.

900 WC