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TDM // #1
REBIRTH ALWAYS FOLLOWS DEATH
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
► I. REAP WHAT YOU SOW
a. A CLOAKED FIGURE STANDS BEFORE YOU, EERILY QUIET. It only stares, faceless, towering well over you as you struggle to find your balance on your weakened feet, the air you breathe in scorching your throat. Your senses are annoyingly muddled, and it's enough of a distraction, perhaps, to overlook your state of undress. And then it finally speaks. The Reaper. It's surprisingly polite, its voice a melodious string of low hissing notes as it calmly explains what and where you are; a Restless, citizen of the Netherworld. You were reborn here for reasons unknown, another soul among thousands with seemingly unfinished business, cursed or blessed to roam a world slowly devoured by an entropic force. Hell? Perhaps, if it suits your beliefs, though some do thrive here, and keeping Oblivium at bay is a collective effort.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
THINGS YOU MIGHT HEAR OR OBSERVE
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
THINGS YOU MIGHT STUMBLE UPON
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► six bones arranged in a hexagon on the ground. they appear to have been gnawed upon and bear teeth marks
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► six bones arranged in a hexagon on the ground. they appear to have been gnawed upon and bear teeth marks
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
if you choose to address the netherwork directly as one of your prompts, reapers or any other npc might reply to you. otherwise, feel free to speculate with other characters!
additionally, if you wind up poisoned or injured by a badaliscus, the occasional scaleberry can sometimes be found in the shadowlands, often rotten and scattered around withered trees. you'll find this kind of information in your smartphone's database, but anyone with healing abilities could also come to your aid: just remember that magic in the netherworld is unpredictable.
lastly, if l'appel du vide is too strong for you to resist, and if no one is able to keep you from falling to your death, a reaper will eventually give you a hand, immediately poofing out of existence afterwards.
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
► II. OF SOULS & SHADOWS
a. WHETHER YOU'VE FAILED TO FREE YOURSELF OR MANAGED TO BOARD A FRIENDLIER SHIP, you won't escape the storm, a tempest within a tempest.
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Deaded things slam into you, spat out of the tornado. The sight snaps you out of your daze, but you don't have time to ponder whether this eerie interlude was real. It won't speak again, never directly. You'll know it's there, viscerally, as your Self and Shadow struggle to come to grips with this new antagonistic yet symbiotic relationship. If you've never been kind to yourself before, learn how to, because it won't be.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Enjoying your first taste of sea-salt horrors? You can feel it, can't you. The pull. It's eating at you, subtly, but it's there. You can’t run. You can’t
get away from me either, because I’m you, and I’m just as
much a part of you as all the noble ideals you hold. All the awful
thoughts you ever entertained, all the things you were ashamed of or couldn't bring yourself to say, and all the
lies you told... that’s what I am, and you can’t make me go
away. You can’t outlive me. I’m going to remind you of
all the terrible things you did or wanted to do, and I’m going to
get you to do more of them, because you’re still
you and you still have all those nasty little urges
floating around. Only now I’m here to highlight
the opportunities you have to indulge. Don't be shy. If you won't speak your mind, I'll do it for you. If you ever considered redemption, think again. Fight me or silence me if you wish, it doesn't matter. Even if you succeed. I may go dormant for a while, but I'll always come back stronger. I'm your Shadow, and Oblivium awaits us.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
a. Teleportation, allowing you to vanish into thin air and relocate anywhere you wish, the same way a Reaper would. Usable 4 times.
b. Mind-reading, albeit a bit murky. Think of it as a weak signal reception. Pry some information about the Netherworld out of an NPC's mind, or try to find out what a friend think of you. Lasts 12 hours.
► III. THE ETERNAL CITY
IF YOU'VE ELECTED TO REACH STYGIA INSTEAD OF MATERIALIZING BACK INTO YOUR HOME IN THE SHADOWLANDS, you'll be welcomed by fishermen in the Harbors, and most of them seem... well, a little annoyed, honestly. Additional mouths to feed, and all that. Stygia has been at max capacity for decades, and resources aren't always easily obtained. But they were like you, once -- freshly undead, overwhelmed -- and if they sigh and glower as you pass by, quick to dismiss you, you'll soon be guided towards what seems to be a Notice Board, a map of Stygia pinned just below. Make yourself useful, you're told. If you hope to survive here, better start by earning your keep!
If you're injured, you're out of luck. Hale is currently off-limits -- a collapse, apparently -- but poultices can be found in the Marketplace, bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
If you're injured, you're out of luck. Hale is currently off-limits -- a collapse, apparently -- but poultices can be found in the Marketplace, bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
ooc note
► Welcome to Nightfell's very first TDM! All threads can be considered game canon and may be used as samples if you choose to apply.
► Check out the Notice Board for additional prompts!
► For your convenience: Bestiary, Glossary, Setting.
► If you still have questions regarding the game in general, please refer to the FAQ. For questions specific to the TDM, ask them below!
► We hope you enjoy your first experience in Nightfell!
wildcard... save me from app writing
And as he waits, his thoughts blacken. Doubt isn't some new experience in his life, neither fear nor dread. But this is something different—vicious in the back of his mind, lashing at all the vulnerable corners of himself he'd thought patched and mended by a battle in a valley just one year ago, rising up out of him in a thick froth.
How pathetic. Why are you expecting he'll come to you right away? You're not the only one that matters. Don't you even know what it means that he is here?
Sasuke smothers the voice somewhere down deep within himself, swallowing past the sudden burn in his throat. He stares at the waterline for a few minutes longer, then loses the fight with himself and begins to pace, anxiety itching at his skin.
Eventually, Naruto will find him some distance from where he had originally taken up post to wait, in an area even less populated where roads become dirt and patchy trees and looming mountains. He's dressed in a plain white shirt with a high collar and black pants, and he's frowning with intensity.]
cracks whip
But maybe it should. From the depths, a sudden swell of poisonous, bitter anger surges forth. Naruto finds his thoughts twisting sharply, bruised by the shadows of a past he just can’t seem to shake. Why bother with these assholes? he wonders, overcome with the very same resentment he once conquered at the Waterfalls of Truth. They’re just gonna be like the sheep back in the village—only pretending to like me while I’m useful to them. What a joke.
…Naruto? The familiar sound of Kurama’s low, rumbling tones returns the shinobi to reality. That’s not like you. What’s this about?
As swiftly as the white-hot hostility had seethed up inside him, it abruptly subsides. Naruto sways dizzily, confused by the whiplash of emotion. After a moment, he resumes walking in Sasuke’s general direction—feet carrying him as if by instinct despite the fog of bewilderment clouding his judgment.
Sorry, Kurama. Guess I’m a little stressed out. The excuse falls flat. Don’t worry. Sasuke’ll know what to do.
The ancient bijū does not respond, though Naruto can sense Kurama’s attention scrutinizing him closely. Resolved to put the bizarre, ugly sentiments behind him, the blond forces his mind to turn elsewhere. He considers the information at his disposal. No doubt Sasuke will have a better understanding of the situation. If only Naruto hadn’t been separated from Sakura earlier… He’s confident that—once the three of them are reunited again—little will stop them from unraveling the mystery at play here. Because, ultimately, he refuses to buy into the idea that each of them actually died. Sure, he might be stupid. But even Naruto’s not that stupid. No, there’s something sinister going on, trying to trick them all. It’s just a matter of time before they figure out what.
When he finally spots Sasuke’s silhouette in the distance, Naruto picks up the pace until he’s lightly jogging. Still damp from his journey over the seas, his pants cling and chafe unpleasantly with every movement. Meanwhile, his best friend looks impossibly impeccable as always. Huffing at this—partially in fond amusement, partially in mock anger—he tosses to Sasuke one of the apples that’s been tucked away under his half-arm.]
Don’t eat it yet. [He stops beside the brunet, pauses, and then awkwardly adjusts his stiff, water-logged pants.] Ugh, they keep riding up. …It’s kinda dumb, but…isn’t there a myth about eating food of the underworld and getting trapped there?
[Pensive, Naruto stares at his own apple.]
Listen, I’m not saying we’re really in the underworld…just that we should be careful. Right?
[As if in disagreement, his stomach growls. Loudly.]
no subject
A hand flashes, catching the apple with ease. Mismatched eyes study the fruit before lifting to scrutinize Naruto's appearance judgmentally, in particular the soaked pants.]
Until when? You won't know that unless there's some way to leave. We can't test it. [A brow lifts. Yeah, he heard that.] At this rate you'll be useless unless you eat something. Worry about that problem later.
[To punctuate his point, Sasuke raises the apple and takes a bite from the crisp red skin, chewing and swallowing before he speaks again.]
So, I'm trapped in the underworld now.
[It's a challenging statement, as if to say: Are you going to let me stay here alone?]
no subject
Of course, the quiet solemnity of the dramatic moment is ruined as his stomach rumbles once more. Hurriedly swallowing his first mouthful, Naruto wastes no time in devouring the rest of the fruit. After wiping the drizzle of juice from his chin, he turns to regard the ocean with a thoughtful look.]
Guess we’re both trapped. [His tone is light—content even, despite the situation.] Sakura-chan too. But Sasuke…
[Blue eyes seek out mismatched ones.]
I don’t remember dying, [he says, the set of his brows stubborn,] and I woulda known if you had. So, unless we instantly died at the same time…
[The blond falls silent, doubtful.]
idk how to write a tag between these two that isn't gay
Still, Sakura was right. If any of them should be returned... Naruto has his dream, yet unfulfilled.]
I don't remember it either. We aren't the only ones. It's possible we aren't dead, but I haven't discovered anything that would suggest genjutsu. [His eyes would peel through an illusion with ease, even restricted by the damper of power they seem to be suffering. Unless he's limited in more ways yet than he realizes.] We were together outside the village on the morning after my release. Was it the same for you?
[He considers wildly for a moment that all of it was a dream—prison, his pardoning and release, his former team coming to meet him outside the gates of Konoha to see him off. Naruto's confession, like an outpouring of his soul, on that rock at the end of their battle. Perhaps all of it was a dream, and they died in that fight as Naruto intended. Is it possible...? He's suffered enough miseries in enough illusions to know that it could have convinced his mind.
Yet Sakura's presence disturbs the idea. If it was true, she shouldn't be here with them, she would be safe at home, sheltered from their fraught pact of self-destruction.]
You must have noticed the inconsistency of our chakra. Have you tested anything yet?
this must be how kishimoto felt
Sure have.
[Rising with a pebble in hand, he takes a moment to aim and then flings it horizontally over the ocean’s surface. The waters, while rougher than a lake’s, prove no match for the rock’s trajectory; a small blessing of chakra provides enough force for it to cut through the waves like a blade, skipping on and on until at last it is out of sight on the edge of the horizon.]
Tried merging my chakra with Kurama’s earlier. Couldn’t hold the form for more than a few seconds. I don’t feel weak, but it’s like…something’s holding me back from my full potential. [His foot scrapes over where sand meets dirt, trying to kick loose more pebbles.] Guessin’ it’s affecting you too, or you would’ve ported us outta here already. Rinnegan not working?
[This time, the selected pebble is proffered to Sasuke. Shiny and black, façade smoothed down by the sea, it sits in the palm of Naruto’s hand.]
no subject
Not nearly to its extent. [No portals anytime soon, it seems.] I won't know those limits until I've reached them, but Rinnegan isn't reliable in its present state. Neither is the Sharingan—Amaterasu was weakened when I attempted it earlier in the Shadowlands against one of the Shinigami. [After a moment he corrects,] A Reaper.
[He was overreacting to use such a high level jutsu from the start. Let's not talk about it......]
We should act as though we are operating below our usual level of strength and avoid overexerting ourselves until we're certain of the effects. Sakura and I also agreed that we would not share the details of our abilities with others. You should be mindful as well. [Is this too much to ask of Naruto...] Later, you and I should find somewhere remote so that we can experiment.
[Sasuke takes the pebble from that open palm gently, rolling it between his fingers, before he turns and flashes it across the surface of the sea. A blue crackle of electricity, embedded into the pebble like he's done to his weapons in the past, lights the path all the way to the horizon, until it too flickers out of sight.]
no subject
The pebble whips over the ocean, gleaming with a blue luminescence not unlike their Tethers. He grunts in annoyance at the showy display, competitive as always when it comes to his best friend. Careful to maintain a neutral expression, he scrounges for two more flat rocks—trying not to give away the devious trick he’s concocting.
A choice of two pebbles is offered. Naruto keeps the second, weighing it in his hand.]
At the same time. We’ll see which one is faster.
[Together, they count down and then launch their respective rocks. Naruto reveals his treachery immediately; his pebble careens into Sasuke’s, infused with more wind chakra—enough to knock it straight down into the waters, while Naruto’s straightens out and continues merrily on its way. Whooping in smug glee, the blond parades around his best friend like a strutting peacock. After the two bicker back and forth on the subject, they finally return to the previous topic.]
…Anyway. A battle is fine by me. [Because of course that’s how Naruto interprets “experimenting.”] Not sure how fair a fight it’ll be, though. You’re out of shape, Sasuke.
[The comment is made teasingly, but the shadow of genuine concern darkens his eyes as he scrutinizes the young man’s musculature. A year of prison will have atrophied Sasuke’s body. While Naruto is confident that his best friend could easily best almost anyone regardless, he dislikes the idea that his best friend might be vulnerable while recovering from that experience.]
Hey! [He snaps his fingers, cutting off Sasuke before the brunet can contest the suggestion that he’s weaker.] Some lady offered me a room at her inn for a while cuz I helped her out. You can stay with me. Beats sleeping in any of the apartments available. They’re even worse than my old one back home. Don’t say no. I won the rock skipping contest, so I get to decide!
[And this way, he can keep a close eye on Sasuke.]
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It's true, he isn't as physically fit as he was before enduring a year in prison. Not enough to make the difference against ordinary civilians, but it would matter in a battle against Naruto. And it would matter if they were truly threatened. A regimen of training should return him to his former level of fitness, the sooner the better. He'll commit to it and prepare first, then face Naruto once he's ready.
Interrupted before he can voice this plan, Sasuke falls momentarily silent in the wake of that good-natured offer. The quiet is not unusual, but intensity threatens it—eyes pull away, looking over the frothy waves along the shoreline, light dimmed by grim weather. It begins to gently rain a fine mist; in the distance, he sees a jagged knife of lightning.]
It wouldn't be a good idea right now. [No, if only he could say it in as many words.] I'm not staying directly in the city.
[Not like this, with that voice louder in the back of his mind than it has been in a year.]
I'll come find you. Sakura's near the harbor setting up a clinic to aid the arrivals from the Shadowlands, I told her I would send you there once we'd spoken.
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Unbidden, his thoughts drift to their last meeting before “dying.” Sasuke had been about to embark on a long-distance mission—one neatly removing him from a village that reviled him while offering him an opportunity to atone. When Naruto first heard news of this plan from Kakashi, he’d reacted poorly; how could he not, after working so hard to get Sasuke back? “Sasuke needs this,” the Rokudaime had told him. “Think about his feelings.”]
You’re really afraid, aren’t you.
[The words are gentle, but somber. Naruto reaches out and grasps Sasuke’s shoulder, turning the young man to face him. His hand remains where it is, a solid point of contact grounding them together.]
It’s okay. [He squeezes that shoulder, then reluctantly releases his friend.] I can wait. When you’re ready, I’ll still be here.
[Emotional, heartfelt discussions like this are difficult for both of them; given the unhealthy warrior culture that they grew up in, that comes as no surprise. But the vulnerability is worth it when he’s with Sasuke. Though a shade of embarrassment creeps up Naruto’s cheeks in a pink splash of color, he doesn’t try to hurry the moment along with fumbling humor. After a few seconds however, the jinchūriki does address Sasuke’s previous comment.]
I can find Sakura-chan later. There’s something I wanna do first. Got time to help me out? Not sure how dangerous it’ll be, but I figure a two-man cell is better than trying it solo.
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Fear. If that is the genesis for everything he's ever felt, he doesn't know how to overcome it. He's tried. Defensiveness forms the protest on his tongue, but Naruto won't hear it, so he manages only a quiet tch through teeth and waits until—eventually, eventually—he is released from the spotlight of that hold.
I can wait. He doesn't know what to say to that. The embarrassment is shared, it seems, vulnerability such a strange thing between them, still in the infancy of healing. He's had Naruto's life in his hands, and vice versa, yet putting words to that sentiment is difficult. They speak far more easily with their fists.
Grateful when Naruto changes the subject, he snorts, dry amusement coloring over the tenderness of a moment ago.] After you were just telling me I'm not in any shape to fight you, now you want to enlist me on a mission? [Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Sasuke.] I have time. What is it?
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In the present, Naruto grins with roguish humor at the observation. Though he privately suspects that Sasuke would be a deadly opponent in any condition, he doesn’t correct his best friend; the Uchiha hardly needs his ego stroked. Falling back on the competitive nature of their rivalry is familiar territory, anyway—making it easier for them both to shift away from the uncomfortable moment of vulnerability.]
C’mon. I’ll explain on the way.
[Together, the two shinobi dash past the outskirts of the city, heading to the location that Naruto previously saw on a map. Upon arrival, the blond falls uncharacteristically silent, gaze wandering the crumbling ruins in somber reflection. The Barrens is aptly named, it seems. He’s reminded of the time Shima transported him from Mount Myōboku to the decimated remains of Konohagakure. There’s half a second where his instinct is to tell Sasuke about that experience—only for Naruto to freeze, struck by a sudden thought. What happened to the Uchiha compound during the village’s reconstruction? Somehow, he doubts it was rebuilt. The jinchūriki glances away, ashamed that he hadn’t considered this sooner.
Don’t worry, Sasuke. I’ll be the home you can come back to.
Eventually, he finds his voice.]
Keep an eye out for…gara…uh, “garagorou…” [This is why we don’t skim information on the notice board, Naruto. Read more thoroughly! Maybe then you’d have a better grasp of the word “gargoyle.”] Ugh! The Gaara-monsters!
[Sorry, Gaara.]
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If I don't even know what I'm looking out for, that's not going to be useful. [The idiot is implied here.] Wasn't there anything else you remember? Not the "red eye" reward. We can't say what that is yet. It may have nothing to do with the Sharingan.
[Sasuke starts ahead, taking charge, navigating a path through the detritus of ruined buildings and crumbling structures.]
Where is the well located?
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If the reward’s a Sharingan, they can keep it, [mutters Naruto under his breath, overactive imagination picturing the horrific tragedies he’d need to experience in order to unlock the dōjutsu. Louder, he answers the question.] Uh…something about ruins?
[Fantastic, Naruto. You’re surrounded by ruins. With a weak chuckle, he strains to recall the details of the posting. It mentioned a chapel, Kurama supplies, the foreign word rolling off his tongue far easier than it does the jinchūriki’s when Naruto repeats this information to Sasuke.]
S’gotta be some kinda building. [While not necessarily a true conclusion, it is accurate.] So, an old building guarded by two monsters. We’ll find it in no time—especially if you help me out here.
[Drawing to a halt, he holds out his left hand, index and middle fingers forming a line while the rest curl inward. It’s half the sign for Shadow Clone Technique.]
…Still working out how to do this by myself now, [he admits, trying to suppress any trace of frustration over his failures in training. Being unable to perform his signature jutsu during combat has been a major disadvantage; Naruto has nearly failed more than one mission because of it.] I’ll figure it out soon, though. You’ll see.
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Chapel is unfamiliar to him too. It seems being gifted with the language of the Netherworld doesn't also impart knowledge onto them for the meaning behind every word.]
You don't know that it's a building, but it's not an unreasonable guess given our surroundings. [Sasuke eyes the ruins, already of the same mind that this would be faster if they could cover more ground when his friend begins his attempt to form the hand seal for kage bunshin no jutsu.
He sighs.] ... I won't always be around to help you with this. You should learn sooner rather than later.
[Despite those critical words, he steps closer, reaching out to complete the unique hand seal by crossing two fingers perpendicular to Naruto's in a warm graze of skin. He can feel Naruto's chakra this close, flaring hotly, immense and overwhelming.]
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Sasuke’s chakra brushes up against his own—a channel of cool water, surface dark, impenetrable, and offering no estimate of how terrifyingly deep it runs. Naruto doesn’t shy from it the way that others have; instead, the blond greets his friend’s chakra with a small, wry smile. For the last year, Sasuke has been locked away in the dungeons, his powers sealed. Dual resonance strained to make connection, lost. Their current circumstances may not be favorable, but at least they’re together again.
Two clones burst into existence. After sharing a wordless nod with Naruto, they sprint off in either direction.]
Alright. Let’s keep going.
[In the end, it’s the clone that headed west that stumbles across the chapel. It almost doesn’t believe that it has found the right location—no monsters are in sight—until it sees the well. Dumbfounded, the clone circles the dilapidated building three times in search of the gargoyles, blissfully unaware that the monsters in question watch its every move behind unmoving stone eyes. Eventually, the clone decides that the monsters guarding the chapel must be on their lunch break and dissipates to relay this information to Naruto.]
—ah. [He pauses, absorbing the intel.] Wrong direction. It’s this way.
[Once the two shinobi have adjusted their pathing, Naruto explains what the clone found.]
…Weird that there aren’t any monsters, though. Maybe they only come out at night? Might explain how this person managed to get in there in the first place to lose the ring.
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In short time they arrive at the chapel: a building that, by all appearances, is as ruined and dilapidated as all of the others in the Barrens. Sasuke can't pick it apart at first glance. The only element that is unique in his eyes is the height, as though stone has been chiseled to a fine, crumbling point high above their heads; he can only imagine what it must have looked like intact.]
We can't assume anything about the creatures of this dimension. They may not follow any rules we'd expect. [That, and without knowing anything about the person who posted this mission, there's no way of guessing the context of the lost ring] We shouldn't let our guard down.
[Stepping into the chapel, moving into the shadows of the ruined walls, glowing eyes scope out their surroundings for the slightest disturbances.]
Send one of your clones down into the well to look for it, you should stay up here. There's no telling what might be—
[The words are clipped off; sensitive eyes pick out sudden movement from behind. They're being ambushed.] Naruto! [A sharp warning as he whips around, diving to intercept the gargoyle as it targets the other shinobi. Sasuke knocks it aside with a powerful kick, but there's a second, huge and gnarled and gray, charging right after it. He attempts a one-handed seal for katon, but either the seal is incorrect or his chakra fails him, because nothing happens—he goes down with a grunt, pinned by the gargoyle.]
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Except the wall of blazing heat never comes. Sasuke goes down.
And Naruto…Naruto loses himself. It reminds the jinchūriki of the times Kurama wrestled control from him—that disembodied sensation where he’s simultaneously aware and unconscious, both powerful and fragile, himself and other. There is no lapse in memory this time, however; Naruto slides immediately into his three-tailed version, chakra boiling the very air around him, fangs bared, nails like blades, crimson eyes wide with rage.]
Don’t touch him! [Naruto snarls, growled voice like the low reverberation of a nightmare.] I’ll kill you!
[When he moves, it’s at a speed normal sight would be unable to follow. Naruto launches himself at the gargoyle with enough force to send the creature flying—clawed hand slamming Sasuke down to the ground before the shinobi can be similarly dragged along. The jinchūriki pauses, too intense gaze lingering on his best friend for several seconds as his clouded mind tries to hold fast to the fact that Sasuke is an ally, not an enemy.]
Never again. [A grim promise, hissed out between elongated teeth as if to himself.] You take out the first. This one’s mine.
[With hate contorting his features, Naruto chases on all fours after the gargoyle he struck down.]
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A pair of blazing, animalistic eyes stare into his own. He doesn't feel fear, but there is alarm threaded through his own clear-headed state of reactive adrenaline, because Naruto has transformed. He's slipped, somehow, in the grasp of the Nine Tailed's chakra, and that isn't supposed to happen. Naruto has control over the bijū. Why is he reacting like this?
He watches his friend race away, and he has no choice but to engage the remaining beast. Now prepared, it takes only a ricochet of lightning run like a wire on the ground between them to put it down screaming in unintelligible agony. He's forced to use his right arm — manageable enough against this foe, but he'll have to keep practicing his technique.
The chapel falls into an eerie quiet. He hunts for Naruto's chakra signature, gauging their distance, whether he'll need help.]
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For you, [says Naruto, grinning suddenly. The red of his eyes burns through the light fog obscuring the area.] Hey…wanna fight? It’s been a while.
[Slinking off the cadaver, the blond approaches. Despite his friendly tone, there remains a sharp, brittle intensity to his aura that speaks of instability. Yet, although their powers have been unreliable in this dimension, it does not seem like Naruto’s state is weakening. The chakra-tails twitch behind him, mesmerizing like fox fire.]
C’mon. This is as good a place as any, ya know? We can let loose here without worrying.
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A good thing they're not in proximity to Stygia's population; at least this way, damage to the surrounding area won't matter as much.]
No. [Sasuke holds his ground, foot nudging the head as it's rolled toward him to halt its momentum. He doesn't interact with it otherwise; that could be seen as an encouragement.] We already decided, or don't you remember? We'll fight later. It won't be satisfying enough for you with how I am right now.
Why are you worked up? These monsters weren't a challenge at all.
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Eh? Who’s worked up?
[There’s a coy twist to the smirk, one that deepens a moment later; Naruto slides into place on Sasuke’s left, bumping shoulders with a playful air.]
You’re right though… It wouldn’t be satisfying trouncing you like this. [And there it is, lurking in the timber of his hoarse voice, the dark sanguine depths of his eyes—anger.] Never should’ve let them take you away. All for what? Their pathetic sense of justice.
[But then that anger bleeds away; Naruto focuses on Sasuke again, a sunny smile brightening his face.]
If you won’t fight, wanna race? [Sasuke isn’t given an opportunity to say no. The blond darts in, knocking their foreheads together in a kind of companionable acknowledgement before he’s pulling away—charging through the skeleton of the chapel. His laughter echoes in his wake.] Last one in has’ta—
[The rest of the declaration is unintelligible; Naruto has jumped directly into the well.]
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Would it hurt, after all, to engage in a fight? The worst that could happen is that Naruto would win. And maybe he wants to know, too, his own limits in this place. Wants to feel his fists make impact on Naruto's body, wants to feel his heart beating in his throat, the rush of blood that goes straight to his head—
Then Naruto speaks about his time in confinement, and he remembers that this isn't his friend as he should be. If they do battle each other again, it should be with clear heads.
He has no chance to respond. The blond races away from him, and he's quick at his heels as instinctively as a wolf after a rabbit, superior speed dogged only by a lack of exercise, muscles straining after months of neglect.] —Naruto! [A hand is out, trying to snatch the back of that orange jacket, straining...
Then his friend vanishes over the stone ledge. Sasuke leaps onto it, looking down.] Hey! What are you thinking? I told you to send your clone, not go down there yourself.
/fin
S-S-Sasuke! [comes the pathetic whine,] it’s freezing!
[Hair flattened to his head, he gazes up at the other boy wretchedly. Unsurprisingly, Sasuke remains utterly unsympathetic to his plight and only bids him to climb out of the well. And so, shivering, Naruto does as he’s told. Back up top, the blond does not dwell on his odd behavior in the last ten minutes, nor does he bring it up. Kurama too is quiet on the subject. While Sasuke watches him carefully, his best friend likewise does not comment.
Together, the two shinobi pick their way back to the city—to return the ring and claim their reward.]