[Closed] Beyond Centuries

[Niro]

Three cobalt mines. Two teams.

The University of Konoha had loaned out several field hands to assist with the expedition, and Yoshinori’s group, himself and two others, had been eager to reach their first mine to investigate. At first glance, the descent into the dark cavern had held promise. But as the hours stretched on, it became clear there was little to be found. The air was thick with rust and decay, and nearly everything within the mine had long since crumbled into useless scrap. Only the timeworn scaffolding held the tunnels together, a skeletal remnant of what once was. By the end of the day, with no discoveries and nothing left to search, Yoshinori had finally called it. Their group surfaced empty-handed, weary and disappointed.

His thoughts wandered to the other team, and a faint frown tugged at his lips at the thought of Akito. Who would’ve guessed that the seemingly unassuming professor he’d first encountered at the University would turn out to be the soon-to-be-announced bannin and the Hyuuga Tsuki had been promised to? Apparently, Akito had some kind of relationship on the side, so there might be room to negotiate... But that didn’t stop the lingering urge in Yoshinori’s gut to slug him. Still, he’d grit his teeth and bear it. For the mission’s sake.

Yoshinori’s team had been the first to arrive at the rendezvous point for the third and final mine. If Akito’s squad had turned up empty-handed as well, this would be where they’d regroup. Not far from the mine’s entrance, Yoshinori and the field hands set up a modest base camp, assembling a fire to hold off the creeping chill of being so far north on the border with Pebble Country. With the flames crackling and the others settling into quiet conversation, Yoshinori perched on a fallen log, his shoulders hunched slightly as he withdrew a single cigarette and sparked it with a flick of chakra at his fingertip. The flame flared briefly, then dimmed. He took a slow drag, letting the tobacco and smoke fill his lungs as he stared into the fire, the glow dancing across his eyes.

[Drak]

The bulging of the veins in Akito’s face was hardly visible in the dim lamplight with which his team illuminated the mine. Assisted by his Byakugan, he peered through solid rock, checking the pattern of the tunnels against the map he held in his hands. There had been nothing so far, but it was his job to make sure of that. His panoramic vision meant he could keep the map in his hands in view as he examined the tunnels.

“Halt,” he ordered. “There is a room which does not appear on the map. Fifty meters straight, and through a small sub-shaft to the right. It will be about twenty meters down.”

“Yep,” one of the assistants acknowledged the order. Akito led the way down the tunnel still marked by a pair of decaying tracks used to transport both rubble and ore from the depths. The floors on either side were worn smooth by decades of miner’s feet. The group slowed as they approached the missing chamber, making sure to step carefully and quietly. Akito peered through the decaying wooden door.

“No one in there. Looks to be some kind of trash dump.”

He nodded to one of the assistants, who pushed the door open with a creak which echoed up and down the hard walls. It was a dead end. The debris of what appeared to have once been furniture and mine carts lay scattered on the ground. Underneath the heavy debris was a collection of food containers, pieces of rubble, and other detritus. Akito’s enhanced vision could detect no hidden passages. No seals or even trace amounts of chakra revealed themselves.

“We appear to have found a scribal error, but not more than that,” the professor sighed. “Perhaps someone in the archaeological department might be interested in this room. Make a note of it.”

The remainder of the mine yielded nothing. Not even cobalt, the last of which had been extracted before Akito’s father had taken his first steps. As they emerged into the waning light, the new Bannin scanned the horizon. This mine was the closest to the border, and Pebble Country was clearly visible from where they stood. With his enhanced sight, Akito could make out a watch tower – hidden in the trees – from which a pair of samurai took turns observing them through a looking glass.

Perhaps it was a waste of their last natural light, but it would do to ease Akito’s mind. He lowered himself to the ground and produced a sheet of paper and a pen. With quick, practiced motions, Akito sketched out a dove and a short note, and with a series of hand seals brought the sketch to life. The black dove took off towards the border crossing. Akito could see several samurai ready their bows. When the creature alighted on the ground just before the outpost and melted back into the paper, a young looking samurai wearing a slightly too large scaled vest darted over to pick it up.

This is a scholarly expedition by the University of Konoha. You are free to observe our movements. We are minimally armed and have no intention of purposefully crossing into Pebble Country. If you feel that we have crossed into your territory, inform us and we will leave without incident.

- Professor Akito Hyuuga

By the time Akito strode back into camp, the sky was fully dark. He spoke briefly with the camp foreman, and gave orders for one of his subordinates to begin writing up the details of the unremarkable unmapped chamber they had found. A member of the support staff handed Akito a small box of food, which he took to the campfire by which Yoshinori sat.

“Those will kill you, or so I hear,” Akito said with a nod towards his cigarette as he settled in across the fire from Yoshi. “Other than finding an unmapped garbage dump, there was nothing of interest within that mine. Am I correct that your investigation yielded much the same?”

[Niro]

Yoshinori’s eyes tracked the man in the firelight, the cherry of his cigarette glowing bright in the evening dusk as he sat down across from him with food. The sight triggered a memory like a lightbulb flicking on in his head. With a soft grunt, he swung his pack around and unzipped it. "Thanks for the reminder," he muttered, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he rifled through the black bag. A moment later, he pulled out a small summoning scroll, flicked it into the air, and with a puff of smoke, a lilac bento box and a pair of chopsticks dropped neatly into his hands. Most people didn’t realize it, but Yoshinori was a pretty damn good fuuinjutsu user.

After one last drag, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it into the fire. It flared briefly, then vanished into smoke. "I only smoke 'em now and then. Honestly, I can barely stand the smell myself," he said as he popped the lid off the bento box and began poking through the contents. He’d sealed it while it was still hot, and thanks to the nature of fuuinjutsu, it was just as fresh and steaming as the day he made it. It was his best one too. Probably smart to eat it now, he had a feeling he’d be too excited to eat in the morning.

“Nothing good. Some old machinery and expired veins, but nothing to write home about.” His gaze drifted toward the distance, to the shadowy outline of the lift that would carry them into the depths below. They’d rest tonight, no point in exhausting themselves. The field hands would keep watch, and come morning, they’d go in fresh. A piece of beef disappeared into his mouth just as he grimaced at Akito’s comment.

“Century-old fermented garbage? Gross.”

[Drak]

“It was not so bad as all that,” Akito said, taking a pair of fine, lacquered chopsticks from a pouch. “The mine ceased operations forty-some years ago, so anything organic had long-since withered away. All that was left was rubble, scraps of wood, and things like, well, these.” He gestured with his food, as if to indicate he meant both it and Yoshi’s bento.

“Itadakimasu!” Akito intoned, bowing his head before opening the top to reveal a meal prepared by the mission support: grilled fish, pickled cabbage, cucumber salad, a few pieces of fried tofu, and a serving of fried rice. Neatly separating a flake of fish from the rest, Akito started eating. It was nothing compared to the fine dining of the Hyuuga estate, or Inokara’s home cooking, but the University's food was far from bad. He and Kokou had seen to that in the early days.

“Clever use of fuuinjutsu,” Akito mused, as his white eyes drifted across Yoshi’s meal. If the fact he had pulled it from a seal had not given the game away, it would still have been clear this was no standard meal like Akito’s was. The box was no standard University box, and the dishes were different. He took another bite, this time a single slice of cucumber, the sharpness contrasting nicely with the rich fish.

“Did you make that yourself?” The professor asked, making conversation. “Or is this a special or the Tei household?” the faintest echo of a smirk graced Akito’s lips – to him this was a bit of innocent teasing the likes of which he might direct at Kokou or Takeshi without deeper meaning. “Or maybe it was that prepared by some sweetheart waiting for you back in the village?”

[Niro]

“If you think this is clever,” Yoshinori said around a bite of rice and crispy chicken, “just wait. I’ve got some things that’ll really blow your mind.” He grinned, eyes glinting with mischief as he gestured toward his bento box with a pair of chopsticks. One side was neatly packed with white rice, the sticky grains forming a base for golden, fried chicken bites sprinkled with sesame seeds. The other side was a crisp salad: leafy greens, slivers of carrot, and a perfectly halved hard-boiled egg resting on top. Simple, balanced, and clearly made with care.

The bento box itself had a quiet story. It was the same one he’d pocketed into his weapons pouch the day he first met Tsuki intending to return it, but never quite managing to return it. Over time, it had become something of a ritual to take it on missions. A good luck charm. A reminder. Alongside the charm tied to one of his kunai, it was a piece of home that traveled with him. He paused mid-bite when Akito made a teasing jab about his dinner being the work of a lover. His brow ticked up slightly. So he didn’t know? Interesting. Yoshinori smirked, not missing a beat as he popped a carrot slice between his teeth.

“Nah,” he said with a light shrug, “the box is hers but I made this one. This time at least.” There was a flicker of pride in his voice as he spoke, like someone quietly enjoying being seen in a new light. “She usually doesn’t like me eating someone else’s cooking if she’s around to make it herself,” he added, chuckling under his breath. “But this time, she couldn’t so I stepped up.” He pointed a chopstick toward Akito’s tray, his grin returning in full force.

“That university food any good? Or is it just a slightly fancier version of what they feed the academy brats?” he teased, taking another bite of his chicken like it was proof of superiority. “And hey, kind of surprised a smart guy like you doesn’t have someone waiting at home, making you lunchboxes packed with handwritten notes and fresh dumplings,” Yoshinori added with a wink, the teasing tone softened by a genuine thread of curiosity beneath it.

[Drak]

Akito’s grin matched Yoshi’s at first as the young man spoke of his unnamed lover. He, too, would have bragged about one of Inokara’s homemade meals were their relationship not a secret. An open one – by this point there was hardly anyone of import in the village who was not aware of their long-running dalliance – but a secret nonetheless. Something that the Hyuuga elders seemed to be willing to overlook as long as it was kept at least nominally hidden.

“Oh but I do,” Akito sighed, his smile dissolving into an almost somber expression. His tone brought to mind a certain scene: a young, distracted, lovesick student being advised by his exasperated and frankly, annoyed professor. However, despite ostensibly speaking of a romantic partner, a future spouse even, he sounded more the professor than the student. “You are speaking to a betrothed man. Not that she has ever cooked anything for me. The Hyuuga clan is not quite so keen on that sort of chemistry when arranging matches.”

He sighed again, this time from far deeper in his chest, as if to physically exhale troubling thoughts. When deployed like this, he was freer from the watchful eye of the Hyuuga, as well as physically removed from the reminders of his approaching wedding. For all the plotting he had done to thread the needle which would see him lead the clan without having to wed Tsuki, he was nowhere nearer a solution, unless of course the dark mineshaft branching out beneath their feet held the key. Here, in the wilderness, surrounded by University staff loyal to him and without ties to the Hyuuga, Akito could have told his companion about Inokara. He could have told him more about the entire situation: aspirations of leadership, the prospect of an unpleasant, loveless marriage with paramours on both sides. While speaking more of his plans might have relieved him of some ounce of metal burden, it also opened him to unnecessary risks.

“No, I get my lunchboxes with handwritten notes and fresh dumplings elsewhere. Otherwise I make do with the University’s food.” An oblique hint, perhaps. He took another bite of fish, scooping up some of the rice with it. “It is quite good. Kokou and I foresaw eating it often and saw to it that we would not be feeding ourselves slop of our own volition.”

[Niro]

“Dating a Hyuuga has been... exciting, that’s for sure,” Yoshinori remarked dryly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he picked at his bento. His offhand comment came just as Akito began to lament the burden of a clan-arranged betrothal. Ironically, to the very same woman Yoshinori had been secretly sharing his nights with. He didn’t mention Tsuki’s name. Not yet. Akito clearly didn’t know the full story, and the fact that she had confided in Yoshinori while keeping Akito in the dark gave him a quietly smug sense of satisfaction. She had sought him out during the Hyuuga clan head’s birthday celebration, stealing away with whispers of the announcement, the man’s name, and the suffocating expectations draped over her like silk cords. She had returned to the clan before long but not before pressing that truth into Yoshinori’s hands like something sacred.

“Betrothed and still getting some on the side? You dog,” he muttered with a faint, hollow laugh, concealing just how pointed the joke truly was. Another bite of rice and fried chicken disappeared between his chopsticks as Akito changed the subject and mentioned a name Yoshinori didn’t recognize. “Kokou?” Yoshinori’s brow furrowed, his eyes flicking toward his companion with casual interest. “Who’s that?” He hadn’t heard the name before, not during his visit to the University. As far as he knew, there was only Akito, Hirofumi, and the secretary he had waved to in passing. Judging by the way Akito spoke of Kokou, especially his sway over food quality, Yoshinori figured he held some standing, though apparently not enough to leave a lasting impression beyond university walls.

Around them, the rest of the camp had begun to quiet. Tents rustled softly in the wind as field hands turned in for the night, the long day having taken its toll. Yet two younger workers, still green and buzzing with curiosity, couldn’t quite settle. They crept from their tents and toward the mouth of the old cobalt mine, curiosity lighting their features like children daring each other into the dark. A rusted elevator shaft loomed at the mine’s mouth, its metal frame casting long, jagged shadows under their torchlight. The two boys leaned over the edge, murmuring in hushed tones as they peered into the black. One of them, grinning, made a sudden motion that startled the other just enough for a hand to slip. A cry of alarm, a nick of blood on skin... and then the torch tumbled. Down it went, a pinprick of orange vanishing into the chasm. Groans of frustration echoed softly, their bravado punctured. Muttering curses, the pair returned to camp and crawled back into their sleeping bags, their tent pitched dangerously close to the mine’s entrance.

But they had awakened something. Far beneath the earth, in the damp belly of the mine, slender hands, chalk white and clawed, wrapped around the fallen torch. A low sniffing sound pierced the silence, animalistic and sharp. Blood. That faint smear of it called to something that had been sleeping. Something hungry. The creature began to move. Skittering footsteps echoed up the stone shaft, then stopped. For a heartbeat, all was still. Then it emerged. Paler than bone, moving like smoke and shadow, the figure slipped silently from the mine’s maw. It crept through the night, guided by scent, moonlight catching the gleam of its eyes just once before it vanished behind a row of tents. The flap of the closest tent stirred just slightly. And then a scream shattered the calm. It was sharp. Panicked. Cut off far too soon.

Yoshinori froze, his chopsticks suspended halfway to his mouth. His meal, forgotten, tumbled from his lap as he sprang to his feet. “What the hell?” he muttered, eyes wide as he slung his pack over one shoulder and bolted toward the sound. By the time they reached the mine’s edge, the screaming had stopped. The entrance loomed quiet and open, like the mouth of some great beast that had just swallowed its prey. Yoshinori peered into the dark, heart racing. “See anything?” he asked without looking back. If Akito looked, what he’d see would chill even the most experienced shinobi. A chakra system, bright and unmistakably human, was being dragged deeper and deeper into the mine. But there was no second chakra signature. He was being taken by nothing at all.

[Drak]

Like tumblers in a lock lining up along a key, chaotic pieces of information suddenly aligned in Akito’s mind and set it to turning. In short, he had a hunch. A Hyuuga? Tsuki? Calm, what do I know? Tsuki has a partner. Yoshinori does as well. His is a Hyuuga, and a woman. I have heard no rumors of a Hyuuga girl running around with anyone, but my own example – and that of my father – demonstrate that such rumors are not trustworthy as a negative indicator. Most of the Hyuuga women around Yoshinori’s age are betrothed, if not outright married; although again, that tells me nothing of Tsuki’s situation since she is herself betrothed. There is no certain information here: only a thread to pull should I so choose.

As he thought, Akito’s face kept a practiced dispassion, with only the slightest raise of an eyebrow at Yoshi’s comment.

“Hyuuga Kokou is the Dean of the University. On paper, he is the only one above-”

The piercing cry echoed up through the mineshaft and through the camp before dissipating out into the canopy of the woods above.

“The mine!” Akito jolted up and sprinted to where the worn machinery loomed above the seemingly bottomless pit. His Byakugan flared into life as he studied the scene. He zoomed his vision in, trying to see something, any clue about whatever manner of ghoul had seized the attendant. A deep breath went in, then hissed out between gritted teeth.

“Change of plans,” Akito bellowed, commanding attention from the camp as it prepared for a restful night. “Something entirely lacking in chakra signature has dragged one of the helpers down! We are commencing a rescue mission!”

As he shouted, the camp jumped back to life. All along the visible areas of his body, stonelike scales started to form, spreading out quickly along his skin to shield him from harm.

“Yoshinori. You are with me.”

Without waiting for a confirmation, Konoha’s newest Bannin stepped off the edge of the surface and through a portal into the depths, charging headlong into the darkness weaving seals as he went.

[Niro]

The camp shifted instantly from rest to readiness the moment Akito gave the order. Harnesses were strapped on, hard hats fastened, and boots laced tight. Tension crackled through the cool air as Yoshinori and Akito stood side by side, overlooking the mine’s entrance; a gaping black maw that breathed no sound or movement, its silence far more ominous than noise would have been. Yoshinori’s expression tightened into a grimace as Akito relayed his findings. The Byakugan’s insight came with grim news but also hope. The circulatory system of the missing field hand was still visible within the depths of the mine, dim and flickering like a dying lantern, but still there. Still alive.

With a word, Akito flared with chakra, a thin shell of stone and earth layering over his body like hardened scales. Beside him, Yoshinori moved with practiced fluidity, forming a quick string of seals before placing a hand against the mine’s outer wall. From his palm, black ink spilled outward in slow rivulets, creeping along the stone until forming a dark, symmetrical seal. It pulsed once with faint chakra before stilling. He gave the seal a satisfied nod, then turned to follow Akito. But instead of leaping into the pit, Yoshinori simply stepped backward off the ledge, trusting the void to catch him. Darkness swallowed him whole as he twisted midair to orient himself. The cold, stagnant air of the mine rushed past him in a dry gust, tasting of minerals, rust, and something old and stale. He hit the ground in a crouch, gravel crunching beneath his boots. For a moment, the only sound was his own breath.

“Akito?” Yoshinori called out softly, his voice low and measured. He reached into his pack and withdrew two glowsticks. With a practiced snap, he activated both, shaking them until they glowed with a pale green light. One he placed on the ground where he landed; the other he held aloft, casting eerie shadows along the tunnel walls. Torches were out of the question. He had no idea how safe the air down here was, and setting off an explosion due to trapped gas would be the worst way to start this rescue. He turned toward Akito’s voice and slipped a kunai from his weapons pouch, keeping it ready in his free hand. “Which way is he?”

Far beneath the surface, in the mine’s unnatural silence, the pale abomination tossed the field hand into the center of a cavern dimly lit by softly glowing mushrooms. The bioluminescent fungi clung to the jagged stone walls, casting an otherworldly green-blue light across the floor and revealing the nightmare that had taken him. The creature loomed in the center of the room, humanoid only in the most disturbing sense. Its limbs were stretched, too long, jointed wrong. Its head was bulbous, lacking a defined skull, and its eyes were glossy black orbs, blinking slowly and without emotion. The field hand fought the rising scream in his throat as he took it in only for his horror to double, then triple, as more of the creatures emerged. One after another. Silent. Watching. Counting him with soulless stares.

Needle-like teeth flashed. Fingers tipped in curved claws reached toward him. One poked his arm. Another tugged at the hem of his shirt. A third delicately traced the edge of his jaw, as though fascinated by the texture of his skin. He flinched and that was all it took. In a sudden flurry, they pinned him down with a grotesque limb pressing hard into his joints. The creature that had brought him there stepped forward, expressionless. It tilted its head in mock curiosity, then reached out with long fingers to cradle his face, thumb gently smearing a streak of blood along his cheek. Then, it smiled. And as it leaned down, mouth too small and too full of teeth, it found the tenketsu in his neck and bit down. Not flesh, but chakra.

The man’s chakra system flared bright for one horrible moment and then began to dim. Drain. Vanish. Akito would see it: the chakra being siphoned, pulled toward something unseen... and consumed by nothing.

[Drak]

“Here,” Akito’s calm, deep voice emanated from near Yoshinori. A moment later the telltale crack of a glowstick travelled through the chamber, and another green light shone against the darkness from Akito’s belt. The sounds of rapid activity echoed down the shaft as the University workers hammered anchors and cast lines down to eventually reinforce their leaders in the darkness.

“Whatever is down here I cannot track it easily,” he murmured, almost as if he were speaking to himself rather than his companion. “I saw the worker dragged that way, but whatever did it gave off no chakra signature.” He pointed towards where he saw the worker disappear, then turned his head to Yoshi. His other hand came up, palm facing Yoshi, bidding him hold.

“There is little doubt in my mind that we have found the site. Do you have that map on you?” His eyes narrowed. Though his face was towards Yoshinori, Akito’s attention was squarely on the dim outline of the worker he could see through the cave walls. “I saw the field hand taken this way, ahead of us. See if you can discern a path that leads to a chamber this way and… slightly… to the… left…” his voice trailed off.

“Something is siphoning his chakra away,” he muttered. “We should make haste, but slowly. Who knows what traps or ambushes these ghouls of the deep have laid out for us.”

Akito took a variation of the classical Jyuuken stance modified for faster linear movement: more compact with his legs closer together and his hands in towards his body.

“I will take point. This armor should protect me from most instant killing blows. My expanded field of vision will let me spot traps more easily, and should something come upon us from behind, I can call it out to you. Anything approaching us from the front I can drown in burning ash or cutting wind. Anything from behind you can handle appropriately. And if any of these creatures manage to come down between us, they will be in range of both of our Taijutsu.”

Akito paused for a moment, giving Yoshinori a chance to make any comments on the strategy. Then, he took off down the relevant passage, moving in a way first optimized for care, then for speed.

[Niro]

The soft hiss of climbing lines descending into the darkness above should have been reassuring but to Yoshinori, it only served to remind him how deep they had come, how far from sunlight they now stood. The faint clatter of harnesses echoed strangely in the mine’s throat, distant and distorted. Above them, the field hands’ descent was marked by the dull gleam of their glowsticks, pinpricks of light swallowed almost instantly by the oppressive dark. Yoshinori’s fingers curled tightly around his own glowstick, lifting it higher to chase shadows off the walls, while the kunai in his other hand remained low, its metal cold despite the warmth of his palm. Beside him, Akito’s own glowsick flared to life, casting long, angular shadows that made the stone veins in the walls writhe like something alive. When Akito spoke, his voice low and grim, the words gave Yoshinori pause.

The Byakugan saw nothing. The idea made his skin tighten at the nape of his neck. Not even the Hyuuga could see what moved down here. It should have frightened him more. But instead, he felt something else flicker inside. Some dangerous mix of dread and fascination. This could be it. A real lead. Maybe the one he’d been chasing since he found the map. He withdrew the new, refined copy of the map from his pouch. One single sheet instead of the three he'd previously stitched together. As he unfolded it, comparing the layout to the direction Akito had pointed, he caught sight of a narrow offshoot passage marked faintly in the bottom margin.

That was when he realized Akito had gone quiet. Yoshinori's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked back down the tunnel, to the darkness that lay ahead like a mouth waiting to swallow them whole. At Akito’s call to move slowly, he nodded and took up position behind the other man, casting one last glance toward the darkness above. “We’ll stick to Taijutsu,” he said under his breath, his tone grim. “Cobalt mines like this always hid trapped gas pockets. One bad jutsu and we’re lighting our own graves.” He rolled up the map and tucked it securely away, kunai back in hand as they began their cautious descent down the winding passage. The walls pressed in tighter here, earth damp with old breath and the scent of rusted stone.

They were too late. Below, the creature reveled. It had grown strong, drunk on chakra siphoned directly from the terrified field hand’s veins. For decades, it had fed on lesser things: twisted insects, burrowing animals, their pitiful livestock. But humans were rare. It had been a century since the tunnels had last offered such a delicacy. The man beneath it thrashed weakly. His limbs jerked, but the others, gaunt, skeletal shadows with eyes like wet stones, held him down with bony fingers and clicking claws. A last shudder passed through him as the final threads of chakra were torn away, disappearing into the leeching grasp of the figure above it.

The creature straightened. It was monstrous in size now, forced to crouch within the tunnel’s confines. Its pale flesh pulsed with stolen vitality, muscles bulging where bones had once shown. Beneath the skin, chakra still pulsed a sickly and unnatural glow. Its mouth split open in a smile that had too many teeth. It breathed in the scent of fear and power. And then… it heard them. Footsteps. Two. Approaching fast.

Yoshinori tossed glowsticks behind them as they moved to serve as breadcrumbs of light to trace their path back if it came to that. The glowstick in his hand illuminated the next chamber just ahead, a circular hollow carved into the earth. Its ceiling dipped low, barely high enough for either of them to stand upright. He flicked a glowstick into the chamber with a quick snap of his wrist. It tumbled through the air and landed with a muted clink.

Light bloomed and revealed a nightmare.

The field hand’s body lay twisted and limp at the center of the room. Over him loomed the thing that had fed, grotesque and inhuman. It was humanoid in shape, but only just. Its limbs were too long, bent at impossible angles. Its skin was a translucent pale-blue, stretched tight over bulging sinew that shimmered with stolen chakra. Veins crisscrossed its bald head like dark latticework, running to two massive, glossy black eyes ringed with milky, pulsing ridges. Byakugan-like, but wrong. Perverted.

Around it, more shapes stirred. Thin, gaunt versions of the monstrosity, their limbs trembling with hunger, began to fade back into the walls like rats, claws tapping against the stone as they vanished one by one into cracks and tunnels unseen. The large one didn’t move. It simply stared with its head tilted at a strange, sharp angle, watching them with silent curiosity. Not hostile. Not afraid. Amused.

Yoshinori’s breath caught as a chill crept down his spine as he came to a stop with his eyes trained on it. “…Something is wrong,” he whispered, more to himself than Akito. And whatever they had stumbled into, it wasn’t just a creature. It was something old. Something that remembered what it was to feed on fear.

[Drak]

“Oh no,” the muttered under-reaction was only just audible over the heavy, uneven breathing of what must have been at least a dozen of the monstrosities. Slowly, carefully, like he was trying to avoid the movement-based vision of a predatory felid, Akito raised his hand to his earpiece. Only the dull hiss of static came through. Out of range. They were alone down here.

Though the horde of smaller ones had scattered, they could not have been far. The scuttling of their long, claw-like nails across the dozens of alcoves and passages echoed across the hard walls of the mine, sounding like an ever shifting mass of insects just out of sight.

Gas. No fire. No lightning. Wind and earth only.

Moving with the same careful slowness, Akito widened his stance, brought his right hand back to just under his rib cage, and extended his left in front of him. A flicker of recognition rippled across the face of the giant abomination. Something between a growl and a pleased sigh escaped from its mouth, sending a wave of warm, wet breath across both Akito and Yoshinori. It bore the sickening, dull scent of decay and the unmistakable, sharp twinge of ozone, of chakra. Then it shifted. Moving with a degree of speed and flexibility unexpected from its bulk, the thing kicked a leg high and straight up into the air, then slammed it back to the ground with a thick, fleshy slap. Then it did the other side, bringing it into a wider stance before it dipped its spine and pushed the shoulders of its too-long torso up to better face its foes. One arm curled up right against its torso, its muscles twitching with potential energy, while the other slowly extended in front of it.

Even the most uninformed of observer would recognize the way in which whatever stood in front of Akito and Yoshinori was a perversion of the human form. Those familiar with they Hyuuga may even notice that its eyes were reminiscent of the Byakugan. It would take a skilled observer to see that the shape this thing was making was the Jyuuken stance, adapted to a new physiology and shaped by centuries of isolation and who knows what else.

The heat of the cave drew beads of sweat from Akito’s brow. His eyes remained trained on the giant. For what seemed like minutes, the room was still. Tension built up in the muscles and sinews of Akito’s body until finally he snapped into action. Dropping his hands into a blur of seals, Akito willed a large, stone spike into being in front of him, and with a mighty push sent it flying at the giant with a loud whoosh and a wave of air that caused hair and clothing to billow and sway.

Akito was not far behind the spike when he noticed something. At the corner of his vision, a tiny bit of movement. Several bits, actually. Tiny sticks emerging from cracks and holes in the walls. Not sticks. Blowpipes.

“Watch out!” Akito shouted to Yoshinori. “They are in the walls and aiming at us!”