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| - It was pitch black all around. The absence of matter in this dimension was oddly appealing, as it brought a silent serenity to the man's heart as he stood in it. Alone. One spectre surrounded by darkness. Though there seemed to be no ground or solid surface in this void, he walked in a straight line, slowly and calmly. Densetsu was in no hurry in this strange place; someone constantly involved in a steady line of high octane, adrenaline pumping missions would tend to appreciate every moment of calm that life tended to toss every now and then. He continued walking, as not even the sound of his footsteps were heard. Eventually, a small flash of light appeared, accentuated by the surrounding darkness. It grew larger and larger as it approached the Uchiha, who finally stopped walking, a hint of curiosity upon his visage. Densetsu straightened himself as the light eventually took a more humanoid silhouetted form, stopping ahead of him. While he could not recognise the spectre, he most certainly recognised the voice that came forth from it. "Hello, Densetsu." The voice said, softly. A sad smile crept onto Densetsu's face. It was a voice that he had held dear in his childhood, one of many that had been taken away from him. Taken away from him, but which had never left him. "It's been a while...Hiroki," Densetsu raised his face to look at the gleaming, white apparition. "It's always awkward speaking to somebody who's been dead for seven years, y'know." A soft sound was emitted by the white creature, resembling a soft chuckle. "Death, eh? You bother yourself too much with physical definitions, old friend." It was all a part of his mind, Densetsu knew it. His regrets, his feelings. All these parts of him that he wished he could let go, but would never be able to. Not until he joined all these voices in the afterlife, at least. This white spectre was merely one of many that Densetsu listened to, this particular one having been his childhood bestfriend; his first and most painful loss as well. Densetsu had to speak his mind, even though this spectre wasn't truly his deceased friend. "It was my fault wasn't it, Hiroki?" The spectre gleamed even brighter for a brief moment before submitting its reply. "You truly do concern yourself too much with physical definitions. Whether or not you decide fault yourself, keep in mind that it was my action in the end that led to the result." It let out a clear chuckle now as Densetsu's smile faded, his head slowly lowering as he gazed at the ground. Seven years he had heard this inner voice, the voice of his friend; as kind in counsel as the boy had been while he was alive. It was ironic that the mere memory of Hiroki meant so much to Densetsu, helping keep him sane, helping strengthen his moral resolve. Just a mere memory. The unmistakable sound of knocking brought Densetsu back to the real world, and out of his meditative void. Meditation helped Densetsu connect with his inner demons, his regrets, his guilt. A past so many considered glorious and 'heroic' came with such loss and suffering, each great exploit coming with equally great cost. It was a past Densetsu would gladly switch with any average joe, if it were an option. Sighing, he pressed his palms onto the mat he had been sitting on for the last 20 minutes, pushing himself up as the sound of knocking rang out again. "Hold on please, I'm coming!" He called from down the corridor as he grabbed a sweater which was hanging nearby and put it on to stay warm; a mere singlet and treks would be suicidal to his warmth once the door was opened and the cold winter wind seeped into the house. He unhooked the locks and twisted the knob as the door swung open. Instantly the man waiting for him outside bowed low, a sign of respect; which made Densetsu jump back to avoid the man's sudden bow. "Densetsu-sama, please forgive me for being a disturbance at your very own residences, I beg your pardon; I truly do!" The man earnestly apologised, drawing a shocked expression from Densetsu thanks to his extreme politeness. "No, it's alright sir. Please address me normally, I have neither rank, experience nor age which would qualify me for such respectful treatment." Densetsu quickly shrugged, feeling that a mere 19 year old deserved no such extreme respect. "Anyway, what could I help you with, sir?" He enquired further, noting the man's frantic movements and somewhat panicky expression. The man rose abruptly from his bowed posture, promoting yet another jump from Densetsu to evade a nasty headbutt from under his chin. He fiddled with his thumbs briefly as Densetsu heard the slightest hint of chattering teeth behind his bushy beard. "Of course, I'll get to the point immediately Densetsu-sama—" "Please sir, just Densetsu-san would do if you really insist!" Densetsu interrupted, panicked with the uncomfortable, overly abundant respectful honorific. While some youngsters didn't mind, Densetsu felt that it added too much to himself, and he morbidly disliked being addressed in such a manner. The man nodded in frantic apology, "I'm sorry Densetsu-san, I should have respected your wishes at the start," he started, rubbing his gloved hands jerkily to keep warm. To keep warm. Densetsu sighed before the man could continue, "I'm so sorry sir, how terrible of me to not let you in, especially in conditions such as this," the Uchiha apologetically stated as he moved aside and opened the door wide, inviting the man in. "No, it is perfectly alright for me to stand here—" "Please, you're my guest. Allow me to be in the very least hospitable." "It's perfectly alrigh—" Densetsu interrupted by action this time, putting his arm around the man's shoulder and gently pulling him in, as he shut the door behind. He gestured over to the hallway ahead, towards the couches. "Please, make yourself at home by the fireside." As they passed by the fireplace, the Uchiha formed a few hand signs behind his guest. Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique! Two tiny fireballs blasted from his mouth into the fireplace, igniting a few blocks of wood in the space and getting a lively fire started. "I sincerely hope this suffices for a fire," Densetsu stated, "By the way, I never really got your name..." The man's shivering quickly subsided as his bones were warmed by the fire. Upon looking around the house he spotted several photographs hung up upon the walls. Family pictures, a team photo of the Uchiha in his younger days, newspaper cuttings, certificates...the furniture in the house was simple enough, the sort that one with average wealth would accumulate. Densetsu's question brought the man back from his silent analysis. "Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Itoku." He replied. A genuine smile flashed across his young host's face. "Pleasure to meet you then, Itoku-san. Now then, what was it you wanted to see me about?" Itoku now removed his gloves before reaching to his side, where his leather backpack lay across the couch. Densetsu glanced quickly at his boots, noting slight marks of dried mud across its high slits. His gaze then shifted to the man's left palm; which had a large scar across it, then to his face and finally to his neck. Oddly enough his neck was heavily tanned now that he noticed, but his face was very much fairer. Densetsu leaned forward as Itoku pulled out several parchments of paper, holding it out towards Densetsu, who slowly accepted it. Before Itoku could open his mouth again, Densetsu spoke slowly. "Must be something big, if a village is willing to send a lone ANBU Black Ops operative in the dead winter to see someone like me." He said, scratching his clean shaven chin with his thumb. Itoku gaped openly, "How did you know that I'm–?" Densetsu closed his eyes as he rested his chin on his hand. "I didn't, until a second ago." His eyes flicked open, displaying a keen but sharp curiosity in them. "Your neck and face were two completely different skin tones; something possibly due to wearing a mask, or some sort of headwear which only blocks out your features. Your eyebags are prominent, but your eyes aren't bloodshot. You've probably had good sleep for the last few days, but sleep might not have been a luxury you enjoyed often. Then we come to your boots. High flapped, caked mud on the top—associated perhaps with one who may come from one of those muddier lands, and whose tight schedule apparently left him with no time to clean his boots. I also noticed that you didn't introduce yourself immediately at the doorway, something operatives tend to commonly share. That subconscious longing to not utilise names unless needs absolutely be; and the additional fact that you were so insistent on getting to the point quickly and directly. I think that fills the criteria of being in the Black Ops kinda well." Densetsu smiled as he beheld his counterpart's shock visage. "Of course, this was just a guess—a gut feeling. You could have been a hippie jungle guide or something along those lines, Itoku-san. But yet again...what would a hippie guide be doing at my place, no?" He chuckled. Deductive reasoning was never a sure fire way to assess another individual, but sometimes it came off pretty well. Itoku blinked and recomposed himself with a blank nod. "Most impressive Densetsu-san. It is fully obvious to me as to why the Daimyō himself wished that you oversee this incident personally." Beneath his calm exterior, Densetsu's inner self pridefully giggled and chuckled. "Not thaaaaat impressive, but I'll live with that! HEEEEE HEEEE!"Densetsu untied a string binding the parchment as Itoku finished his line. The Uchiha sighed. "So that's what it is eh, Itoku-san? A case in the winter..."
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