Miyoshi Seikai "The Iceman"

"A Touch of Red"

Part Nineteen

Miyoshi Seikai had gone to a place most of us never remember. The kind of sleep free of the passage of time. Just the blink of an eye, as the head meets a pillow, and to wake, surprised at the hours which have passed. Refreshed, alert, certainly, but regardless of replaying each last remembered moment, it really seems like "close eyes - gone - wake up".

That space? The intangible nothing?

That's were Seikai went.

The difference was…he knew.

He also noticed several things.

Firstly, that he was noticing things at all, because it was a peculiar kind of consciousness, even for a highly skilled shinobi to reconcile.

Secondly, he didn't seem to be breathing, and it really didn't matter. It wasn't 'not caring' or even holding his breath, he was more of a singular presence in the darkness.

There was still a sense of depth, of sorts, he noted, of being suspended…not floating…because that implied movement, no, there was simply awareness with nothing else attached.

It was without a doubt the most peaceful thing he had ever experienced.

There was just nothing.

Silence.

No chatter, no noise, neither in his ears or in his mind, just quiet.

A complete absence of sound.

An absence of almost everything in fact, and for a moment, he wondered if this was some sort of heaven.

Concern at this condition may have flickered by, and as if to prove itself, he noticed he had hands. He couldn't see them, but he could feel his fingers curl to form a fist.

That singular attention drew back the feel of muscles, tendons, reflexes and signals, the very physical things which performed the actions, and as he mentally followed their course, his sense of self returned.

Still, it was only an internal sensation as if his outer self had no existence.

Gather information.

One of the prime directives of all shinobi, was the next thing to kickstart within his mind.

(And what had started off as training for his 'kind' became infused into the genetics of subsequent generations, and invariably, there were those who turned out to be truly gifted, himself being one of them)

The curiosity of Miyoshi Seikai, the man in this state, within this utopian dark, was roughly pushed aside by The Iceman, however, who viewed the situation systematically. Cold, emotionless and efficient, but even this aspect gleaned little of where he was.

It seemed time passed, but it didn't, there was only the nothing and the present.

And a glow...

It came from somewhere below his line of sight, and although he didn't perceive he had a head, he sensed his hands (strange, but it seemed perfectly acceptable) and as he raised one, the glow came with it.

It was the ring. Just like in the sunlight by Taro's pool (which suddenly seemed eons ago), it once again seemed to create its own hue. This time however, he noted, bringing it closer to where his eyes were supposed to be, it cast a different shade.

So, sunlight and darkness drew some sort of reaction. Although this wasn't the natural darkness he knew of his world, more like a space in time.

Any further pondering was halted in its tracks as another colour joined in, not from the ring, but from elsewhere, a sharp line of red light, peppered with sparks, and not feeling connected enough to react, he became a pinned observer to its path as it rushed towards his chest.