The more he observed, the more he saw the similarities. Between Izanagi and Kami no Shi. It wasn’t like this before however, not how he remembered it and he would know with his memory. The only thing that was different was his hair, but perhaps his eyes were deceiving him, the very eyes that were flickering on and off between the three tomeo Sharingan. He laughed, Kirinji awkwardly followed suit, but the short time they were laughing together—there was an odd feeling that Kirinji felt deep within, an odd ambiance, an odd energy. He became more skeptical when Kami no Shi slapped his head and bent over in laughter. It wasn’t that funny, was it?
It changed mid way through though and that’s when he knew. It was when he struck his head upwards and the laughter had taken a turn. It became more sinister, more vile, and he was no longer laughing at the joke, but at Kirinji, whose own falsified laughter was dying out. He didn’t care he was being laughed at, though he didn’t like where this was headed. But when he noticed those wide, barbaric eyes of Kami no Shi and the sudden abrupt stop in his laughter, only one thing went through his mind.
”Uggh fuck.”
The one and only thought that had flashed through his mind. They’d fucked up—that much was clear, but how? Was it something he said? Was he rude? Was business bad today? Was he just crazy—was it? Perhaps the stars weren’t aligned in their favor today. Regardless of whatever had caused them to suffer these consequences, they were in, and they found themselves at what more than likely could be the end of their road. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but an emotion he couldn’t put into words surged within him. He could feel his body becoming internally warm as if he had been standing on fire. He didn’t understand why, but he felt such a tightness in his chest that he could hardly breath, much less stand it. The ratting statues became painstakingly more annoying—it was nice they were … mocking him. Kami no Shi was right, Kirinji’s power—they hadn’t blossomed. But his lack of power surely wasn't shortcoming—was they?
Was he showing weakness when he allowed for his closest friends to live? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. The power of the Mangekyō Sharingan was tempting—far more tempting than it should be. He could’ve collected both Kouwei and Eikou Uchiha at will if he had wanted, but he didn’t. Was that a shortcoming? Should he have just done it and gotten it over with? Was that his weakness, his shortcoming? A chill ran down his spine and the goosebumps upon his arm became more apparent. And suddenly, suddenly he understood what he was feeling. It was fear. He was reminiscing, or rather, thinking about all the defining moments that had led him to this point. Thinking about what could've gone differently and where he could’ve become more powerful, more stronger so he wouldn’t be in this situation. So
they wouldn’t be in this situation. She was so young.
Genichiro’s influence on him suddenly became stronger, but he stood there fighting with all his might, gritting his teeth, visibly shaking. He wasn’t sure if he was angry at Kami no Shi for doing this or more angry at himself for being able to do nothing. It was clear as daylight by now that they had been within a genjutsu—a
powerful genjutsu. The women around them emerged and wherever they placed their hands it felt akin to an inferno touching them, melting him from inside out. The music became louder and as Kami no Shi laughed, Kirinji understood that this was the same Kami of Shi of the old. He hadn’t changed one bit. That boisterous, high pitched mock laugh of condescension—he remembered it well. He hated that laugh. Even him. He came closer and the genjutsu effect became more potent, rattling him. And when he came closer and showed him and pulled out the pencil he would’ve chuckled if not the psychotic mannerism of the man. The animal. He was screaming and Kirinji winced in pain slightly turning his face to the side before reverting his gaze back onto him.
The Visions. The Visions. The Visions. The
fucking Visions.
If he hadn’t put them in this situation, Kirinji would’ve sympathized with him. Those curseome visions, oh how they tormented him so much. Tears lightly streamed down his cheeks as he pushed his head down, gritting his teeth unbelievably tight. His shoulders rolled forward and his body became tense as Kami no Shi waltzed away. An agent of chaos. It was all Kami no Shi ever wanted. Chaos. It was the only thing that made him happy. The room began to echo with the laughs and giggles of the women, mocking him just as the statues did. Their laughs morphing into ghastly moans all around his feet and with every touch there was an unbearable heat inside of him. He was shaking, his fist so tightly closed that his nails would puncture the skin in his hand and there would be blood on his fingertips. It was quiet during that time he was waltzing back and Kirinji had his head down, quiet for quite some time. He wasn’t battling the thought of whether or not he should kill Kasami. He was battling the influence of Kami no Shi. And a demanding fight it was.
The floor began to twist and build into a pyramid of solely bodies and the hands of the women giggling, whispering, tempting—tempting him to give him. He refused. No, he rebuked it. Not verbally, but visually as he continued to fight the influence of the illusion. It was until moments later he spoke again, his head still down as his hair shielded his eyes, a tear here or there falling from his cheek and onto the ground, or rather onto one of the many
women. Kirinji began to speak, his voice clearly choked up and in a petrified state.
”You’re sick ya’know that? Turning us against each other. You sick—”
The thought of Kasami dying—no that’s not what it was. The thought of
murdering Kasami and all the ways he could do it with this pencil flashed through his mind like flipping through a thick photobook. It was all that went through his mind along with the pain from the women being registered. But as that emotionally draining thought echoed throughout his head, a powerful chakra in both intensity and magnitude coursed through his body and more specifically to his eyes. And soon as that occurred a state of tranquility and blissfulness washed over him and his fears. His shoulders became loose, tears were no longer streaming down his eyes, and his body was no longer tight. It was as if the whole energy around Kirinji had shifted. And his vision—he could see so much
clearer now. The illusion fading away as reality set in, a room with just them three. Genichiro, Kasami, and himself. His oddly designed crimson optics staring back at Kami no Shi with incredible intent and purpose, Kirinji wasn’t going to submit defeat here. And he surely wasn’t going to kill Kasami for this man’s entertainment. The realization occurred. He knew that no matter what—there was nothing in the past that could’ve been done to ascertain enough power to combat this man. There was only the future. His future. Kasami’s future. Eiji’s future. And the future of the Oni. He had to see Izanagi. No, he was going to see Izanagi. And as that realizationed occurred, fears surrounding his shortcomings dwindled into nothing. Along with the fear of death. He—no they—were going to get to their destination one way, or another.
"I'll ask again—and I don't mean to be rude. But we really need to see Izanagi. Could you please open the gates?"