ᗰOᑎᔕTEᖇ [🧡 ᑎᗩᖇᑌᕼIᑎᗩ 💜] [Ɱҽէąʍօɾքհօʂìʂ] Bσσƙ Oɳҽ

Childless Clan

Chapter Forty-Two

Childless Clan

May 4, 2010

"What do you know of the plan for the Hyuuga woman?"

Takahiro glanced at the man across from him.

Seated at the small, metal table in a room Takahiro assumed had to be a strange rendition of an office, the bespectacled man gave his new captor an assessing look. Garbed in flowing white, his pale skin barely a shade darker than his clothing, the Otsutsuki watched him with a quizzical light in his pupiless eyes. He looked haggard, his face gaunt, the scythe shaped horn jutting from the left side of his cranium seeming too big for his skinny face.

He looked sick...

He was sick.

The wasting had already set in within this creature.

Shifting on his seat, Takahiro paused, unsure how much information to divulge. That woman and her people, this Otsutsuki and his people, he knew of them, what they wanted, but that was the extent of his knowledge. Trusting them with what he knew wasn't something he intended divulge. He'd been through that once and it had gotten his foster brother killed. It had gotten the village they'd spent years building turned into monsters and those left over slaughtered.

He had nothing more to lose but his body and mind.

Pathetic possessions in the face of what he had lost, but he was loathe to lose anything else at the hands of the Otsutsuki.

They had taken enough from him.

He'd be damned if they took more.

"More than they want me to," he answered.

The celestial being gave him a piercing stare. He didn't like his answer. Sweat beaded his forehead but he stood his ground. This slowly dying humanoid could tear his throat out with little effort. Decaying he may be, his body still held immeasurable strength. He could lose another limb should he step carelessly...an eye...the flesh from his back.

There so many ways he could be made to suffer, ways that would leave him alive yet praying for death.

He was no more prepared for that agony than he had been at the hands of Toriyama, but defiance was his only way to fight back against this brutal race.

It might very well get him killed one day.

Not today, however.

Because this Otsutsuki needed something from him.

He held value and therefore, was safe for the time being.

"Then you know enough to be of use," the Otsutsuki confirmed.

Takahiro released a silent breath, dizziness unfurling as relief flooded his senses. Despite knowing what the outcome was going to be, he was shaking.

"And Toju-sama?"

"Very little," he admitted, swallowing against the dryness in his throat, "I've seen him, along with the child they call Honorable One."

"That is no child," the pale male informed him, "there are no children among the Otsutsuki. Before Kaguya gave birth to the twins Hamura and Hagoromo, there never were."

Confusion crinkled his brows.

"We were crafted, not born," the Otsutsuki continued, "Toju-sama is the eldest, the first son crafted by Cyilo. He has lived longer than any of the male species of our race. He was with Cyilo the longest and passed many eons at his side, watching his brothers rouse into sentient beings, observing the graceful wisps of his sisters breathe their first breaths. In those days, the creation of an Otsutsuki required countless years between each iteration. Sentience bloomed in different times and different ways for each son and daughter. Honorable One was the fifth son created. He is far older than I. He and Toju-sama are among the last alive that hold first hand memories of Cyilo. The others that were sentient before his sealing have long since perished."