The Depths of a Soul (Akira Training)

Combt Specialist Training+AdditionalElementTraining+AdditionalIbwaContract

Akira had finally made his first steps in to making a name for himself and he knew it. His plans for this arsenal of puppets lined each wall of his oddly shaped room. Surrounding every inch of the wall around his large window overlooking the village were papers, mostly turn up and dirty and just basically scrapped together from shreds. But they were important as they held his first ever built puppet; Io. And now she lived in his work shed. He didn’t need to keep his plans out like this any more, he could have moved them down there, but they still held such a great sentimental value that he just couldn’t bring himself to move them. Being written in crayon didn’t help much to keep his desires to look professional. He had instead copied down every building detail, and had even recently made modifications after his little vent discovery. Once he had the funds he intended to return to the spot, and finish building the compartment that would greatly enhance Io’s bearing firing mechanisms. For now though, he had her in her Version Two state.

Standing in the centre of his room he looked to the right, where his drawers and wardrobe stood, and just like the wall around the window, it was littered with papers, much better kept and often reorganised. Spread across several, written as such so he could switch out papers and plans for segments like the arms when he got a better design choice. But this was his next puppet to complete, it’s skeleton hanging from the centre of his work shed; Orpheus. He was to be Akira’s first attempt at a working larger puppet, and would be the backbone of his unique fighting style along side his puppets. But this brought him to the opposite wall.

Just like the others there was plans spread across the wall. Only this time Akira had taken for a much more extravagent lay out, spreading out plans and thoughts from the centre lay out that was shared with Orpheus. A skeleton of plans, only with ideas growing out in the shape of wings. Arsene would be Akira’s true Wings of Rebellion. He would fight back against the ideas of what a puppeteer should do, how to fight personally without resorting to losing the sense of self by forming yourself in to a puppet, and importantly; Rebelling against Death itself in the name of Jashin’s Immortal Soul.

But finally came the wall wrought only out of a fever dream one night. The night that Akira fell down the path of spirituality. He didn’t know if it was Jashin reaching out from the worlds beyond, or the result of a horribly cooked meal on his first night in his own room, but that night everything had changed. And the shadowy figure that loomed from the painted wall behind schematics were evidence to exactly that.

Akira had awoken with a start, sweat drenching his whole body, feeling the hair that he was only just being allowed to grow sticking to both his forehead and the back of his neck. The whole world around him was spinning, and he felt utterly weightless and yet like the whole world was trying to suck him down in to the centre all at the same time. He felt an overly powerful sense of loneliness, a feeling he could only describe as if one were to discover that everybody else on the face of the planet had mysteriously vanished and they were the only one to remain, only to be mixed with the feeling of every set of eyes on the people that had vanished were all bearing down upon him. The shadows around him twisted and deformed, fluctuating between pitch black and vibrant shades of blues and greys and reds, as the wind from the open window he had most definitely not left open manipulated them before his eyes.

“Hello. I am sorry for waking you,” Akira hadn’t even been aware of the incessent humming in his ears that suddenly gave way to silence as the bearer of the voice took the breath in in order to speak. Even the usual creak of his bed when he put too much weight to one side was eerily silent. “I felt it was time we talked.” Akira was looking down at the foot of his bed, a child no older than ten stood there looking back up at him with wide silvery eyes. The open window fluttering curtains that made no sound cast moon light glinting off the child’s youthful features, but made those eyes stand out all the more. “Akira. It is a very pretty name. One I can assure will one day suit you very much,” The formerly sleeping boy opened to speak, but he found he could not either inhale or exhale. He had no need to breath, but he also could not. He was just trapped in silence. “Interesting choice in keeping your family’s name too. I think Kurusu suits you nicely too. So long as you do not forget where you come.” The boy’s tone was just as eerily calming. And this only made it more distressing for Akira. “You can call me… Pharos. Yes. That is a nice name for now.”

“Why are you in my room?” Akira had no idea how that question came out when he had struggled to hard to even breath. He still couldn’t do the latter. But as he tried to follow it up, he found he could utter no more sounds.

“Ah, yes finally an appropriate question you ask. Do not hesitate should you have more,” And he tried, but Akira still could not ask anything. But the attempt only made the boy, Pharos, smirk. “I come to you now because you need me. You need my guidance young Ibwa.”

“What will you guide me for?” Those weren’t the words Akira wanted to see, the sentiment was there, but not those exact words.

“Because I can give you your magnum opus.” Forming behind the boy from those pulsating shadows was a smokey figure. A large angular head on what seemed a rather regular human body, draped in a black trenchcoat. It was the shapes behind the figure that were so scarily familiar. Attached to the figure in an arch, five boxes, coffins, all laid out with roman numerals emblazoned on their cases.

“... Thanatos.” The words left Akira’s mouth like they had been his first words, spoken like a slow, perhaps even arguably moaned, exhale.

“Thantos,” Pharos seemed only to confirm as the figure turned to dust before his eyes. “You will one day be ready for Thantos. Until that day we will be watching.” Akira’s body began to lose that weightless feel, yet the planet’s pull dulled none. “Sweet dreams, my future Queen of Souls,” Akira’s bed began to melt and deform under the growing weight of the boy. And once more he could not take a breath nor utter a single sound. He was just left to the torment of his bed swallowing him whole. Every bit of his body that sunk beyond sight from his feet up lost sensation quickly. It became clear, at least in Akira’s mind it was clear and nothing but complete sense, that when his body was not in sight, he could no longer feel it. His torso jerked, and his arm sunk, and ceased to be. His hips were under then, and soon followed his other arm. More and more he sank, and Pharos stood at the foot of his bed. Smiling. Enjoying the young Ibwa puppeteers torment as he was devoured whole by his most well known source of comfort.

“Ja… shin…” Akira managed to get the words out when all that remained upon his bed was his face, the covers slowly circling in from every angle until only a spec of light remained.

And then he awoke with a start. Sweat still drenching his body, and with nothing by charcoal and the nearby wall to get out what he needed. He needed to see Thanatos again. To know he would not ever forget the nightmare fuel he had endured. Thanatos would be watching over him already, so drawing it over his bed seemed fitting. Thanatos would not remain in his memory forever. Thantos would rise.

Akira shook off his head as the all too vivid memory of that always pulled him back. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and sighed as he saw more make up coming off than he would have liked. “... One day Pharos. I would like to know what on earth you truly are,” He muttered in to the silence of the room. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could have sworn he could hear a childish giggle. But then again, this wasn’t exactly new as an Ibwa of the Spirit Path. But Pharos was not a spirit. At least he did not think he was. A Spirit had never fucked with him like that before.

Down in his work shop he turned on the lights as everything blarred in to focus. Hanging in the centre of the room Orpheus hung half formed, and with temporary casings to ensure Akira had the correct measurements. He just lacked the parts in that moment. All he had made so far was the one arm to perfect the A.G.I. system, and Orpheus’ segment of the Magnetite Drive. For now, Orpheus served as another check list item, and a coat hanger. In the outreaching hand Akira draped his long black coat over, a fashion statement he had taken from his visit from Pharos so long ago. And he sat himself at his make up desk to fix up what had gotten messed up in the sweat drenched memory.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, a Spirit was near, but with the sensation that the rest of him felt, it was a familiar one. He looked around and looked upon the floating form of his first Guardian, the currently Yurei class Aneka spirit. He had been bonding with the peaceful spirit, introducing it to the new surroundings, and what Akira expected. But mostly, he had been introducing the spirit to his work as a puppeteer. He knew he could make use of a puppet as a Medium, a long drawn out conversation with new friends Kozzen Jiko and Gado leading in to much research had proven just that. Just thinking of that brought more thoughts to mind.

With the most important aspect, his make up, done he could work on his puppets. In this case, he needed to finish up design work on the new creation Johanna. With the help of his new team, they were developing a transport system that they could use in combat. After all, why send in troopers for a fist fight if they could just unload with a tank. Johanna was to be Akira’s speciality portion. A segment of a larger construct that was all his. And in turn, he could design it with his own specifications, including new elemental drives, and a Magnetite system of it’s own. Taking influence from Io, he had decided a Drive that could specialise in explosives such as grenades could be perfect for the job. And with the coat he loved so much, it had been suggested he looked ‘like a biker’. So why not design Johanna to be a cycle too. It certainly did sound a good idea.

Looking over the plans he was trying to come up with ways to distinctify Johanna from any other bike on the outside. With a low rider design, Johanna could be exceptionally aero dynamic, and it could allow greater control with a more centralised centre of gravity. In such a position though he would limit himself to a lower range of vision though. So Akira began to scribble in the plans for a moving portion, so that he could sit him along with lying down on his stomach to pilot Johanna. She would be beautiful. She would be utterly deadly. And Akira loved her already and she was still only a scratch scribble in a black note pad. He would have to work on getting full schematics drawn up later. For now though he had other more pertinent things to work on. And so, once he had gotten down a few more ideas for Johanna and her future F.R.E.I. system, he turned his attention to that more important element.

“Annie, will you come over here please?” He spoke softly as he always did to his ghostly friend, inviting the creature spirit over as he stood and made his way over to his work bench. Lying across it Akira had set up the humanoid body portion of Io, looking just like a young girl, splayed out so Akira could access the whole body. He couldn’t help but mentally draw parallel to the look of a young girl being sacrified on an alter. Fitting for an Ibwa he thought from the stories of old back with the Pandoran Empire. He even treated the fragile puppet with just as much care. He reached out a free hand as he felt the cold of the Aneka spirit nuzzling in to his palm. Neither could exactly feel in the conventional sense what such a moment might have meant prior to death, but it was becoming a frequent habit that they both also enjoyed to enhance their body. “So Annie, I would like to see how ready we might actually be to use you in combat. Are you ready?” He saw a look of uncertainty in his partner’s eyes. Eyes that looked back like glass orbs filled with never stopped smoke swirls. And the creature nodded. “Good girl,” Akira coo’d happily, knowing this was a thing of trust on both sides.

Akira drew back as he finished the work he needed to do in preparation. With the feminine body of Io set on a chair, with Akira taking his coat from Orpheus’ hand in order to drape over Io’s body. There was absolutely no need, but with how human Io looked in that portion, Akira couldn’t bring himself to treat it like just another tool. None of his puppets were just tools. They were weapons, but they were extentions of his true weapon; himself. The large sculpted bulls head that formed the ‘seat’ for Io to sit in was lifted in to place. Akira needed to fully test that the new additions were secure. In order to further enhance the compatibility of Annie and Io, he had taken a piece of Annie’s body, and with her permission had burned the body, and repainted Io’s bull body with paint infused with the ash. A peculiar act some might say, but Akira saw it as in a way returning Annie to her body. Make her feel more at home. “Alright Annie. Everything looks ready. Are you?” Annie began to hollar and fly around the shops, doing little more than create small gusts of wind in her wake that fluttered papers.

Akira threw his jacket back on, pulling the Mask of Ren from his pocket and slipping it in to place on his face, feeling the new blade of his in his pocket, and began the work of sitting Io back in to her throne. That process itself took a moment as Akira still treated Io with nothing but respect. All the while Annie was getting a little restless. With a pat on the bulls head, Akira lifted the puppet by the straps to carry on his back. With a flick of the remote in his other pocket the shutter doors to his work shop opened, and Akira all but raced out with Annie following shortly behind. This was going to be the moment, and it was going to be perfect.


Three hours later they were still at it. “Ok. We… We nearly had it there Annie.” The creature spirit was upset, shouting, or the closest equivalent an Aneka had to shouting any way, it’s frustration. “Yes yes I know. C’mon, we nearly got this. We just can’t find the right weapon to form.” he rubbed the back of his head, having removed his jacket again long ago when the exhaustion was just going to make the thing smell. “An axe didn’t work, neither did forming a hammer. We tried a gun, we tried a cannon. I just don’t… what else can we even do? Io isn’t meant for all out atta-” He trailed off as it felt like a train had just rammed right in to him. “I am so stupid!” He slapped at his forehead, hard, but he deserved that for making such a stupid error. “Io is defensive! You are a peaceful creature! I’m… oh please forgive me Annie I am a stupid Pact holder.” He was sweaty, but now he had the epiphany he knew just what to do. “Ok, so we picture it. Io… Io is a shield. She always has been. And now, my dearest Guardian Spirit, Annie, so are we.” He had never referred to Annie alone in that way, in his eyes there was always going to be Akira and Annie. He would pull just as much weight as his spirit. “So Annie? Are we ready?” His grin was wide. He knew they had it this time, and his optimism was infectious by how Annie began to stampede around him again. “Let’s go! Annie! Join Io!” His arm held out, waiting for the weight of Annie’s Hitodama form, in which he thrust the power in to Io’s back.

In a swell of spiritual energy, Annie’s spirit formed around Io’s main body, forming back around Akira’s forearm so as to allow for easy movement. And all of Io’s weight was just gone. The huge body now light as a feather. From looking, he saw that Io’s eyes had even opened. An eery look, but it certainly looked cool. Annie had formed with Io to form a giant antlered shield. And by Jashin she was beautiful.

WC: 3007 / 3000

Approved

Weekly Training for samurai weapon

“Good evening my good lady, I am here to peruse your finest of genin available missions as per my usual!” Akira just burst his way in to the mission office, in for some reason what was becoming a very typical entrance for him. Thankfully it was the same girl as had been working there the past few times who was by now very much adjusted to the eccentricities that came with just being in the vicinity of the young Spiritual Puppeteer. She just began to giggle as Akira gave his fluffy hair an additional little frizzle and stepping in. Always just something about his style and how he took most things rather seriously, despite knowing how humorous he might come across, it just brought delight. And that alone was why he loved to be the peculiar sort of boy that he was. And with his team busy, he just had to keep things going so he could play catch up. Arsene and Orpheus were nearing completion and he needed just those last little bits. So taking on little missions here and there to earn some extra cash was all he could do to fill his time.

“Must you announce your presense each and every time?” Kaen sighed as she hovered behind her ‘Master’. She too was amused, Akira was just such a fun individual to have signed her spiritual contract, and that wasn’t including their night time visits back to the Kitsune’s home realm. But sometimes she was just tired and wanted to get right to business. And that just wasn’t Akira’s style.

“Yes. Yes I must my dear beautiful kitsune companion,” He had also learned just how to truly flatter his companion. He continued stepping in to the office as Kaen made herself that little more physical so that it would not seem that Akira was just talking to himself. Although it certainly wouldn’t have been the first time she’d have done that. There was a reason the Spirit and Puppeteer got along so well. They clashed where they needed, and complemented in so many other ways.

“Nice to see you again Aki,” she smiled and stood up to greet the boy. It was odd, Akira could swear she might have had a little crush on him. Not that he’d blame her. He couldn’t deny it a little himself, but he was much too busy. He was due another visit from Pharos all too soon and he needed to ensure he had an empty mind for the new partition of the great magnum opus Thanatos. Getting just one out of the way soon would be perfect. “You mentioned saving for some puppets yes?” Akira leaned forwards in to the counter and nodded. “Something came in last night. Apparently there’s been a spate of robberies in a nearby little town.” Robberies wasn’t exactly high impact, but she seemed to be hinting at something more. With a wave of a black gloved hand he hinted to continue. “It’s a local mining town. Rumours suggested that raw ores were being siphoned off from the income, and lately they caught someone red handed.” And that had his attention. Pay, and perhaps even some contacts for buying some raw materials. “Some criminal organisation, or the starts of one, have been stockpiling metals. It’s a simply recon job, but there is a stipulation for higher pay in stopping the thieves.”

“Sounds perfect,” He held out a hand, expecting to take the job slip. At first the girl, Akira had to remind herself her name was Abby, just looked cluelessly.

“Oh! Sorry, yes. Here,” She handed it over and immediately Akira got to work reading over every detail. Perhaps one handy perk that comes from being a puppeteer who understood the mechanics and minute details that came from reading was how he could read between the lines.

The job wasn’t too difficult to work out. A mining and forging town was having stock stolen by a criminal gang for what was suspected over a year without anything to show for it. No nearby towns had reported an increase in trade. This meant they were hording all the metals. They were aiming for an attack it seemed. It also made sense if they were trying to make a name for themselves. Produce all the gear themselves, arm their goons, and take over the small town. If they controlled the mines and forges they would have complete control over the metals. Sooner rather than later they were going to strike.

“A bunch of thieves taking advantage of a poor mining town. Sounds like the perfect targets,” Abby smiled as she sat back at her desk. Akira slipped the paper in to his pocket and produced his mask, slipping it firmly affixed to his face.

“Yes, I do agree. The perfect targets for a Phantom Thief.” His other hand rested on the hilt of his knife, the Le Mat. Most wouldn’t see him as falling under the category of a samurai, but they certainly fit in to his ideal. He could slip by unnoticed. And once the mask was in place this was only added to as people seemed to not even notice him. The special ability that came with the mask. “Good luck Joker,”

Akira just nodded with a grin, blew a kiss and turned on his heels to leave. Kaen faded away in to a much more spiritual phase. They needed to pass unnoticed and this would go a long way to that. Trudging out towards the road, he stood there for near an hour before a cart was on it’s way in the general direction of the town. It would give him plenty of time to do tune ups on Io, and to conserve his energy for the job. He didn’t plan to do anything but complete the mission. Perform as the Phantom Thief that he was. He was going to steal all of that ore back for the village. If he was lucky he would get some of the metals to keep for himself.

WC: 1001 / 1000

Approved

Training:

It had been now approaching a month since Akira’s last mission, and he had found not much had really taken place in that time. Or not on the mission front that was. He was now accompanied by the addition of a full fledged combat puppet. Now when he got word that the weapon thieves he had scattered last time, had resurfaced. Or the fighters who were away at the time that was. But with their brains locked up, all thanks to the input of a certain Phantom Thief, they had only the muscle. And yes, muscle was not something to balk at. But the important thing, at least to the young Ibwa, was the triangle of power. Akira sat firmly in the ‘speed’ lane. His weakness was to those who could out strategize. If an opponent had to drop on him, and used intellect, he could be in deep water. It was why he had to work around that, and why stealth was absolutely the way to use his skills. They can’t plot around something they have no clue about. And in turn, those like Akira who were fast, had the advantage over those specialised in muscle. After all, what use was heavy weapons and fists, when someone nimble could just skirt around the blows and get in close.

While strategy wasn’t Akira’s strongest point, he had the advantage in a second pair of eyes that very, very few people on this continent could even see. And right now as Akira was on the edge of an old forge, Kaen was scouting out the area he had sent her forwards to. Reports came of the group vending weapons to local mercs from an abandoned windmill. Meanwhile, Akira worked on a little song to himself. He had his route planned, and he was just waiting on the news from Kaen.

“Where have you been?
Been searching all along
Came facing twilight on and on”

He didn’t stop singing as Kaen appeared above the windmill, signalling silently so that she would not step completely free of the alternate realm that she dwelled in. The only way that Akira could see her, and nobody else could ever have any sort of clue. With a grin, he pressed the Mask of Ren up further up his nose by the bridge. It was fight time.

“Without a clue
Without a sign
Without grasping yet
The real question to be asked
Where have I been?”

After that point he had to switch to a more internal form of singing. He was getting too close and could give himself away. The Heart Taker style was absolutely doing his work. He had trained his eyes and his brain to take in information, both on the people, and on the area as a whole. He moved with a single minded focus, eyes fixed directly forwards. Kaen was up in the air just in his periphery vision, helping to make him aware of any dangers nearby that could sneak up on him, whilst his brain and eyes calculated the perfect routes to take. Slipping in and out should be easy.

“I'm a shape shifter
At Poe's masquerade
Hiding both face and mind
All free for you to draw”

He stopped dead, not even attempting to take a hiding posture as his Mask completely hid his presence through its ability. The perfect tool for a Phantom Thief. Kaen gave a nod, and Akira continued to step forwards out in to the open air of the compound. It was strange even for Akira, how he had trained himself for so long, and could now see exactly how slowly or quickly to step between cover. It helped that the guard were clearly former village guards. They held to routine far too strictly. It made it easy. Walking around the side of the building, Akira flicked his wrist and Le Mat dropped a dagger in to the man’s shadow, and Akira rolled back around and in to cover. The guard did just as he wanted. He screamed, “Argh! Ghost! I ghost has got me! I-I cant move!” Akira rolled his eyes, a grin crossing his painted lips seeing how Kaen seemed visibly annoyed at his outcries for ghosts. And from then he wait. He calculated the perfect route for the guard on the fair end, the one wielding a nicely curved falchion. And with another flick, another shadowy dagger came flying out and pinned their shadow too to the wall. And they too freaked the ever loving fuck out.”Wha- What the hell! It it it’s got me too!” Kaen was getting visibly upset, and Akira had to move. Two people shouting would attract plenty of attention, and he still had one dagger left to throw. But this one was saved for one man in particular. Holding the handle tightly he made for the inn, still shrouding himself in the shadows, feeling as if they gripped his body to his soul. Hand out, Kaen flew down and in to her hitodama form, vanishing in to his palm. A bit less dramatic than he might’ve liked, but a Unity none the less.

“Moments of calm
Nothing left to be found
A mirror right in front of me
That's where I find,”

Akira, together with his conciousness merged with Kaen, were taking in all the more information for it. Akira knew the correct path to the boss, who was certainly by now panicking over just what was going on outside of their base, but his Heart Taker Style was allowing him to memorise every little path they followed and calculated where each off shoot he didn’t take would likely go.

“An empty glass
Reflecting the sad truth
It's telling words not to be told
I need the mask,”

He pressed sharply in to the wall cast still in shadow before entering the main cavern they had set up in. Hastling pulled together walkways led up to ledges used primarily for storage it would have seemed. And there tearing pages from a ledge to throw in to the nearby fire, was an exceptionally slender middle aged man who looked like he was throwing his hair in to the fire with the papers. Akira clenched his jaw tight, he was burning the evidence! He didn’t like the idea of giving away his position so soon, but he needed to save as much evidence as possible. And of course, he was Akira Kurusu-Ibwa. He had to have a flair for the dramatic. But first…

He activated Le Mat, a shadowy dagger flying and stabbing in to the man’s and in a state of fear he froze. From his position he could only look around with his eyes, head frozen forwards and unable to even turn to see Akira.

“Ivor Steeltoe. … OK that name is stupid and I hope you know this,” Knowing this was the fight over in seconds, Akira confidently strode out. Kaen leaving his body in a feeling of sharp and sudden, if temporary, exhaustion. Kaen’s little boosts were so intense they often gave severe mood crashes after they were done. And this was no different. And so he kept his mask on until those effects completely faded. Once he was able to stand tall and confident, his smirk grew wide, and he swept a hand across his face to remove the mask, slipping the Mask of Ren in to his pocket as he returned in all presense to reality. “You’ve been a very bad boy. I cleared out the main operation, but you got yourself away from me. I come to change that.” Le Mat glistened in his grip. “... You hurt a great many with your so called trade. And don’t think I’m not seeing that little list in your frozen hand,”

“Wh-who a-are you?!” Ivor was utterly terrified.

“Me? I’m… The Phantom Thief of Hakagakure. You may know and share my name as Joker.”

“Ha! Y-You’re a real joker huh? G-Good joke,”

“Oh my dear sweet darling. I’m not that kind of joker. Sure I have my moments of being utterly hilarious, but I’m more the wild card.”

“W-Wild card?”

“That’s right. I’m difficult to predict. However for you…” Akira had slowly approached, getting up close. The man never saw it coming. With a twitch of his hand on his mask, he summoned Arsene to his side. The gentleman looking puppet’s arms raised as it stepped out in front of Ivor. What little movement he had showed nothing but his terror. He screamed as Arsene injected him.

A day later, Ivor awoke in a metal cell, screaming of the terror that is; Joker.

WC: 14?? / 1400

Errr you are over by 400 words are you going to add more or do you want me to just approved.

Training: Mask of Ren weekly

It felt like much any other night in the life of the young Ibwa Puppeteer. Outside his door, and down the hall his father slumbered in his bed, while his mother pottered around somewhere else in the house. Both boys of the Kurusu house would have been more freaked out by complete silence, it would have meant there was something enormously wrong. For downstairs Akira’s mother lived an unsleeping, almost unending life as a puppet. A whole new kind of puppet that was still being researched by the Jonin pair, a human puppet unlike no other. Dahlia Ibwa died a long time ago, and in turn her body was changed to a puppet, and her very soul bound back in to the body. For all purposes, she was a human puppet, only she lacked the weakness of a weak spot. She inhabited the body, and could be exercised from it, but she could be rebound just as easily. It just meant that she didn’t have any way to sleep. So she would fill the evening with her research, with her own spirit companions, and in keeping her old samurai level skills on point with her rapier Artemisia.

And on this just night Akira was returning home late from a new mission. For some strange reason a giant mecha had gone crazy in the junk yard which… even in a weird day would have stood out. Nobody was hurt, and he was given free reign of salvaging the remains after it freaking exploded the shit over the place. He walked right in, throwing his jacket down on to the chair before sliding in to it himself. As was ever their little ritual, Dahlia wandered over, ruffling her effeminate son’s hair and giving him a few wet tissues to clean up his make up. No words were said exactly, but Akira went right to cleaning up the mascara. And then a cup of tea was in front of him. A quiet night without any words being exchanged between mother and son. His recent visit with Gado likewise was still fresh in his mind. He hadn’t ever really thought about how much he had mellowed out since his early days. Perhaps it was having completely lost touch with Kozzen, realising that… well ok he might have had a slight crush on the boy. Although there was a few he did. It was just sort of normal. Putting the two used crumpled tissues down, Dahlia collecting and throwing them out far too fast to not have been paying attention.

“Something bothering you Kiki?” He always said he hated that nickname, but he couldn’t even think of disliking anything his mother did. So he loved it only when she called him that.

“Just adjusting.” He leaned back, taking a sip of his tea and glancing down the hallway hearing his father snoring.

“I will admit it is very quiet without you working on your projects here.”

“Most of them any way,”

“Yes I did notice this… what did you call it again?”

“Thanatos.”

“Ah. Of course. Your whole Death personified idea.” She said down opposite him, with an empty tea cup in front of her, absently stirring air. For a woman who had spent the last decade in an unaging, self sustaining body, she still acted like any old living person. She would sigh, appear to breath, all such things, and she would blend in with people just in all the right ways. And stirring an empty cup while sitting with people drinking tea in her mind she felt it would relax them that she wasn’t standing out.

“Mhmm. I picked up some pretty good metal earlier,”

“The explosion?”

“The explosion.” There was another silent moment, mother and son smirking at each other. Whilst he got a lot of his father’s looks, despite all the crossdressing and make up and feminising, he was absolutely his mother’s son in everything else. They understood each other in all these ways that father and son had never quite been able to. His father was the puppeteer in the family, the one to control them along with his blade fragments weapons. “Simple mission really to be honest. Lovely older woman built it apparently, and honestly yeah I was impressed by its size. Problem was, she built it in a self destruct trigger. So, you know, me using Le Mat and freezing the giant thing in place did… basically nothing.”

“Must admit, that is a perfectly wonderful weapon you wield,”

“My dagger, or my body,” His grin widened, leaning forwards, head in his hand. He would absolutely never have made such a joke in front of his father, it would have warranted a smack up the back of the head for making such a vulgar joke, but his mother, well she was different. Nobody would think she was a soul possessing a puppet as a medium in that moment, as the red head not-quite-teenager doubled over leaning in to the corner of her table. And under the table her leg shot forwards and jabbed at her son’s shin.

“Kiki! That’s awful,” She was utterly amused and nothing more and she couldn’t hide it, but she still had to do her motherly duties to reprimanding her son for his bad jokes. “Geez. Whatever has Kaen done to my sweet innocent son,”

“Your son took my contract wearing fishnets and a lot of make up.” Kaen was there the whole time, just listening in apparently. Though neither was exactly surprised. Dahlia was afterall the Ibwa of the parents, the one with the ties to the clan and thus even if she weren’t a spirit herself, would have been well aware there was likely spirits somewhere.

“Oh, I’ve heard enough about him signing your contract sweetie.” She waved it off before anything else could be said. She did not want to know what her son got up to with his more lurid activities. She knew there was something going on between the two, but she did not want to think any more of it. Who would want to think of their son like that.

WC: 1005 / 1000

For everything his mask could do there was plenty Akira still had to learn. His Mask of Ren was an amazing tool, one that carried him much of the way through his career thus far. Sitting on the balcony of his family home, he sat back in... well his parents were not home so he was free to wear what he liked. So of course he would favour for something revealing. Lots of lace, and lots of skin revealed through sheer clothing. His neighbours didn't like it exactly, but they were actually pretty much used to it. He was able to sit back, throw his legs up, and drink his tea. The first time in a while he was just relaxing. He wasn't tinkering on some new toy. He wasn't reading over some long documents. And he wasn't writing reports and musings over said documents. For the first time since the Bijuu attacks that rocked the very nations of the Republic, Akira was just taking time for himself. He had worked on his skills, his gear, his very self. That was what it was time for. Akira to just take a break. An alien subject to the version of himself only a year ago.

Learning: KirameStyle: Silent Killing, C-Rank