[Event] The War Dance of Fuujin and the Nian

[Takaki Saeko]

You know, I wonder how Moro is doing, he suddenly thought to himself for no apparent reason as he gleefully hooted at the barrage of mostly dangerous but all comical projectiles launched at Horo Danshi. He’d better not be falling asleep on the job and like, dreaming about me as a pink-haired genin giving him a lecture on how to be a damn alpha male. We’ve got more denials to process than an insurance company has cancer patients to bilk, he grumbled, a sour taste in his mouth that could have either been metaphorical or just the result of some beer-soaked gastric reflux. Middle-aged man problems, you know.

“Bend over, Horo-a-shit! You damned internet wizard! You BETA!” he growled toward the stage, looking for more projectiles to launch toward the chuunin. Like a responsible crossbolter-owner, he had left his own unit at home before going to an event that would include alcohol, because alcohol plus projectile weaponry usually resulted in the loss of toes, and it was common knowledge that the overworked surgeons at the Curatio definitely did NOT reattach severed toes (there was no medical indication to do so, despite the protests of Santaru Rin, who nevertheless insisted on having her toe reattached should it ever be shot/sliced off). Therefore, less shooting, more chucking.

“HEY HORO BOOOOOIIII, CATCH!!!”

A familiar voice nearby, and a bottle sailed through the air, not to shatter on that disturbing, vacant-eyed face that was like a result of the color out of space doing a self-portrait with crayon and placenta, but instead to feed that ugly maw? Who the hell was trying to give aid and comfort to the enemy? Was it Hayata Makoro come to troll him? Was it Yukimura Enishi come to teabag everything?

“Aw hell, Risu, you tossed the damn Pinot Grigio to the wrong one!” he swore at her frothily, recognizing that pretty face and doing a double-take at her tantalizing choice of evening-ware. “You’re supposed to help the Fire Marshal, aka Pussy-chan! Your punishment is you gotta drink more! Start chugging!”

"ANBU of Kumogakure future! With this invocation I drink, and summon your aid: wreak ruin upon ruin, and dance that the day might rise and bring the wind to your peaks come morning once again!" wailed Horo-Fuujin, the source of divine NTR.

“Anboobs! This is your damn Vise President! Belay that order!” he shouted to the crowd in response, waving his hands frantically. “Help the Nyan slice him to little bits!”

Meanwhile​

A cloaked woman slowly made her way through the crowd of drunken, partying shinobi and civilian revelers at the annual War-Dance Festival. She was no stranger to swirling crowds, and slipped between the eddies and currents of humanity easily in pursuit of her singular goal. The event was already in full swing, and the audience was as boisterous was could be expected. Taking a brief look at the stage, she recognized not only Horo Danshi, but the other actress on stage, the blue-haired countess. She was tempted to sit down and watch their antics, but knew that she needed to focus on one target alone for tonight.

Carefully, she stepped over a shinobi laying on the ground, gingerly avoiding contacting the rapidly-spreading pool of urine originating from his waist. Before long, she was near the top row of seats. There, near the corner left, was her target: a squat, powerfully-built mountain of a woman with small eyes and unforgiving features, wooden spoon holstered at her side, and feet bedecked with bunny slippers that used to be pink but were now simply brown. The cloaked woman inched forward, and reached stealthily into the folds of her robe to retrieve an object... Of course, nothing could ever escape the baleful attention of the famous Horo family matron (and fabled cause of all of Danshi’s long-standing psychological issues), much less some sneaking hussy, and within a millisecond the wooden spoon was out of its holster and held within an inch of the cloaked woman’s head.

“Ah-dentify yo-self, guhrl!” drawled Mama Horo, trigger finger itching to send that spoon a whackin’. Slowly, Reina held up her hands, one of which gripped a small, gift-wrapped peace offering, and the cloak fell from her head.

“You are Mama Horo, da? My name is Reina Vladilena Barchenowa, Rear Admiral of the Imperial Navy. And...and I have come to ask you permission to marry your son, Horo Danshi!” she squeaked nervously.

 

[Hoshiko Gin]

"Good, good that's more like it Ogre-San.." Said Gin approvingly as she settled herself more into the bench. As she sat there, it occurred to her that maybe the greenish fiend was talking about her. She felt sympathy for the Nian's loss of her "husbando", and felt in some ways, she could relate to the catlike figure on stage. To think that this beastly fellow would suggest such a thing. It was a travesty! "I tooooo can satisfy him," Gin growled, "You're wrong Ogre-Sanl!" She turned to face him and pointed her finger at him. "I'll prove itt too you~"

Just as she was about to lift his mask, he went and patted her on the shoulder. Blinking for a moment, she thought this to be a curious thing to do, but nodded and let her hand fall. "You're right! I am a WoMan! I don't need the likes of your pitiful brethren!"

But only minutes passed before the young woman was at it again, wondering where her moron was anyways. Her eyes fixated on nothing in particular as she thought about him; starting first with the scars at his face, oh how she could trace every single one... along with the many he had accumulated over the years. And the way he wore his ANBU gear; tailored to his lithe muscular physique to a tee. 'Don't even get me started about how he shoots his...'

She shifted in her seat and fanned her flushed face with her hands, "Ogre-San, its getting kiiinndaa stuffy, don't you think?"

It was hard to keep track of what was going on at that point, but a familiar voice brought her back some. Mordgeld was here to? "Nyeh, Nyeh Vise presidente, I'm staying outta this one. Kekekeke."

 

[Kogami Ayumu]

The crowd was getting pretty in to this whole thing now, but Ayumu still wasn't feeling particularly swayed to either side. The girl on stage had apparently heard his comment which made him grin satisfactorily. Numerous projectiles of varying sizes and lethality were winding up on stage. Even the Vice Commander had joined in, throwing some unknown object at the man on stage. Suddenly, a shuriken landed next to his hand, embedding itself in to the bench. Ayumu looked behind him to see where it had come from, but everyone was throwing things by now. It was impossible to figure out where it come from. Some guy was lying on the ground, his trousers becoming steadily darker in a single patch. Ayumu shook his head and turned away, not wanting to see anymore. That poor guy needed to go home. Suddenly, a woman bellowed encouragement to the man on stage, tossing a bottle to him- or was it at him? Ayumu couldn't tell anymore. He recognized the woman as someone from the ANBU branch, though they had never met. Judging by what she was wearing, he kind of wanted to.

On stage, the man was starting to get in to his roleplaying and for some reason asked the ANBU specifically to aid him. 'Huh? Who is this guy to ask ANBU for aid?' he thought with annoyance. The man was certainly no ANBU himself. Meanwhile, the girl was running at him with her sword extended. Ayumu honestly didn't care who won here, but it seemed the man was the least popular on stage. Having an idea, Ayumu took his bottle of beer and tossed it on stage, just in front of Bakunin in hopes that she would step on it and trip, or something. She couldn't be completely unopposed, right? That would be no fun. Of course the Vice Commander was ordering them to attack the man, but nobody knew who Ayumu was at this point anyway. He snatched another beer of the tray of a passing waitress and tossed it back as Gin fantasized about Moro, unknown to him. She started fanning at her masked face, complaining that she felt warm. Ayumu laughed harder than he should have, pointing at her mask.

"Fanning won't do you any good with that mashk on, dummy! ...hic!" he said, hiccuping at the end, only to laugh about it. He reached out and pushed her mask up, although it only moved part of the way up so that while the lower half of her face was showing, the upper half was blocked by the mask. She probably couldn't see very well- or at all, like that, and on top of that she looked very silly. Ayumu burst out laughing once again, something he was prone to do as he became more intoxicated.

"Hahahaha Foxxy-chan, you look ridiculous! ...hic!" he said before hiccuping once more, prompting further laughter. He lifted his mask up only temporarily like hers to take another drink and then slid it back down.

 

[Horo Danshi]

His call to arms had failed utterly -- in fact, it may have done the exact opposite as the Dipshit Kid had intended. Oh Horo Horo day. This was not what was meant to happen at all.

Somewhere in the audience, Horo Danshi could sense that more jeers were headed his way, that some especially pertinent and powerful members of the audience had taken up cause against his RIGHT AND PATRIOTIC stance against foxy-chan here. Was that Masao-sama that he heard, oh He Of Universal Cringeworthiness? Oh, the number of times that the universe had intervened to save those two from one another. No surprise, really, that he was the one to make the loudest and most frequent objections to the dance, forsaking God and Country for some little personal bit of a grudge.

Throwing the empty wine bottle into the audience in the general direction of where the boos and hisses were concentrated most, the chuunin stumbled forwards just far enough to avoid the point of foxy-chan's oncoming sword. Shrieking in pure pants-wetting terror, Horo Danshi cartwheeled in the opposite direction, avoiding the attacks as they came, both from his stage opponent and the missiles being thrown from the crowd. Oh, this was not going well at all. "If this is the way you dance at home then no wonder he prefers meeeee!" the square-jawed Seikon shrieked as he ducked and weaved.

Oh dear. What would his mother think?</COLOR>

***​

<COLOR color="darkblue">

The stout, indomitable matron of the Horo clan regarded her new visitor with something between bemusement and total disregard. Few outside of her own family ever had business with Mama Horo, and it was a rare thing indeed that strangers approached her. The woman's demeanor, as well as the state in which she typically kept herself, was armor enough against random personal entanglements, and so aside from the occasional courier bringing news about or from her son, she tended to stay happily isolated from the world. This newest hussy, it seemed, was also here on business regarding her son. However. Marriage? This was a new hill o' beans to evaluate, yes yes.

Reina's introduction complete, Mama Horo slowly turned her gaze back to the dance of the fuujin and nian, where her blasted boy was apparently doing his damndest to further shame the family into total degradation and downfall. Not, of course, that the elder Horo cared one spitted lick about the status of the clan in the good books of the more noble and blue-blooded families, but the fact that it was apparently causing them to lose in the competition was a more irksome component. That stupid bwa of hers. Ever since dropping out of the ANBU initiative, he had been on some shit list or another, and while that was all well and good, had he really gotten in such poor graces that not even notorious Drunky-Sennin Masao would own up to the traditional contract of the Fuujin and the ANBU, passed down since time immemorial? Hell, in her youth when that line got recited, you could hardly throw a punch for all the random death-squad agents who came out of the damn woodwork to answer, dance the Nian off-stage, proclaim Everlasting Victory for the Kumo Pantheon and all that jazz. Raijin's unshaved nipples, the matron cursed inwardly. Did she need to do everything herself?

"Mama H--" Reina began again, her first introduction apparently totally ignored by the steely-eyed, older woman.

She got no further than this, however. Hand stinging out from where it was folded in her lap, the elder Horo snatched the wrapped item from Reina's grasp, placed it quickly into one of many hidden pockets of her robe, and replaced them in repose all within the space of a moment, all without a spared glance. And when she spoke, it was with hardly a sideways glance: for the most part, her attention remained on the fiasco taking place below.

"I'm sure I don't want to know what trouble that bwa got up to, what he has rear admirals jonesin after his line and tackle like," she said in a low grunt that was, despite its volume, perfectly audible over the roaring and jeering of the crowd. "All's I know is his way, which he has, and ain't gotten him a whole lot of good fortune for neither hisself NOR his Momma, HRMPH!" She paused to raise an eyebrow as, below, the Nian advanced with sword drawn, and her son began making all sorts of acrobatic nonsense in response to avoid it. "Lookit, see him there and he's a gods-damned disgrace."

Shaking her head, Momma Horo coughed violently, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and then finally turned to face the newcomer, regarding her with small, hard, penetrating eyes. "They believe in dowries where you come from, girly?" she asked roughly. And before there could be any chance to respond, followed up with: "Might not think me one to look it, but I'ma tra-dish-nal-ist. Now usually we would be formal 'bout this here, but circumstances being what they are..."

Raising a hand, Mama Horo gestured to the scene playing out around them. "I wanna win this here contest, y'see," she said. "And that bwa of mine, he ain't gonna win it hisself. Now I will not spec-yoo-late on the salary of the Imperial Navy's best and brightest, but I can make a guess. And its a known fact that what a shynoobi ever does, they do that, the opposite, and whatever else they do, for the right bit of coin." She gestured once more, this time to a man standing and bellowing along the opposite row of bleachers: one ANBU Vice-Commander, particularly drunk and riotous. "Like my dadda told me. Cut the head off a snake, and you got a nice pair of shoes."

Turning back to Reina, the elder woman actually opened her mouth, though what was expressed there was so unnerving that it could hardly have qualified as a smile. "That useless bwa wins tonight, well. I guess you can have him, though Raiden knows he's not good for much else."

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

My attack on Fuujin was dodged more easily than you can get the derivative of X to the 4th power.

Meanwhile the audience continued to throw things onto the stage, and not all of them were aimed at Fuujin. I stopped for a moment to consider just who was supposed to clean this mess when things were done. I certainly had not promised to do the job!

I shook my head and readjusted my focus back on the Fuujin. Focus! I needed to get rid of this piece of trash. But how? As much as I hated admitting it he was an infinitely better dancer than I. Any further attempt I made in attacking him head on would simply be dodged as easily as my previous try. If I wanted to get rid of this wind god I would have to be a bit sneakier.

"This sorrow!" I said, "It is too much for me! Good bye cruel world!"

I took my sword and gave a thrust of it's blade toward my stomach. With a clang my body fell on the floor. A clink followed as my sword joined me in tipping over.

I had not actually stabbed myself if you were thinking I had. I would have been bleeding if I had! No, I had only pretended to have stabbed myself so that everyone thought I, Nian, had been killed. Fuujin, being the show boat he was, would take it as a cue to start parading himself as the victor of our dance. The moment he lowered his defenses I would stand right back up and charge at him. Hopefully then he would fall prey to my sword. This plan would only work if Fuujin really thinks I have committed suicide though. If, for whatever reason, he doubted the sincerity of my death then my whole plan would end in failure.

I wished there was a way for me to communicate with the audience that I wanted them to play along with me by either faking a tear at my death, or cheering the Fuujin on for having managed to get me to commit suicide. I prayed mentally that somehow this wish of mine was heard by the audience. The wish would probably not be granted, but it was worth trying - was it not?

 

[Takaki Saeko]

"Lookit, see him there and he's a gods-damned disgrace," said the burly matron, casting a disapproving eye on Horo Danshi onstage, shrieking in terror as he attempted to avoid more ass-jabbing from the cat-dressed Countess’s sword. Looking at Horo, Reina had to sadly agree with that assessment. But she had seen him at his finest – the two of them on top of a moving train, sandwiched between thermonuclear destruction and an angry team of ANBU – and that display of heroism was something she would never be able to unsee, so to speak. He was worth it. And she could certainly fix up the rough spots, if not by loving persuasion, then definitely with beatings.

"They believe in dowries where you come from, girly?" asked the hard-eyed matron, now acknowledging Reina with her stare. While this might have put off some women, for Reina this was a welcome development. Of course a dowry should be paid for a handsome and strong man like Danshi. Whatever sum Mama Horo wanted, she would get – after some mandatory negotiation, of course. In truth, Reina did not even feel like negotiating, but to not do so would be viewed as a sign that she was unfit to be a wife. After all, women controlled the household’s money and weapons, whereas men were typically not trusted enough to be allowed to read. She was about to open her mouth to make her initial offer of a hundred thousand yen in gold bullion, when Mama Horo revealed her desire for a different sort of arrangement.

"Like my dadda told me. Cut the head off a snake, and you got a nice pair of shoes,” she said, pointing at a man who Reina had known very briefly, but very well.

“Thank you, Mother!” she said with genuine gratitude, bowing deeply to Mama Horo. “I will make sure he comes out on top.” she said, turning to march toward once Vice Commander Takaki.

Masao was in a grumpy mood, despite the abundance of free beer. Horo Danshi was gleefully making a fool of himself onstage in front of Shinbatsu and everyone, and although it LOOKED like the Fire Marshal was trying her best to cleave his sorry ass into pieces, Masao knew as well as anyone else that this was just another example of that damned chuunin metaphorically chubbing everyone in the audience. What the hell does he think this is? The Republican National Convention?! The Tea Party Headquarters?!

“Vice Commander Takaki,” said a female voice to his side. He turned his head, and his pupils dilated at the sight of an enemy. Still, she didn’t appear to be hostile, at least not yet.

“Admiral,” he said, cautiously. “I didn’t expect you, of all people, to come to my village, much less sit next to me. At least, not peacefully.”

“Well, we are not enemies right now; you are not attempting to board my ship without my permission,” Reina shrugged.

“And you’re not trying to pirate a sovereign nation we’ve sworn to protect. Fair enough. I’m sure you’ve noticed all the beer being given out. I can call for some if you wish,” said Masao, relaxing more.

“This beer brings shame to its maker, this country, and God Himself. Even peasant vodka is much better,” said Reina distastefully. Reaching for holster on her inner thigh, she pulled out an Imperial Navy-issue steel flask, bedecked with the star and cutlass emblem. After taking a long swig of it, she held it out to Masao, who surprisingly accepted the slightly warm, sweet-smelling container.

“Very smooth – almost like water. No wonder your people are all alcoholics,” he said, handing it back to her.

“It’s Staraya – the best. I lost twelve cases when you sank the Katushya,” she said, shrugging.

“Casualties are expected in war. You didn’t come here to talk about that, though,” said Masao narrowing his eyes to slits. Reina laughed, sidling closer to him and draping an arm around his shoulder. She was wearing rather nice perfume, he noticed.

“Nyet. I am only here because I want you to make the man playing Fuujin win this silly little contest, or at least not lose so pitifully,” she said, looking at the stage and taking in Horo’s continued and literal shitshow.

“And why would I wish to let that complete fuckup actually win this dance-off?” Masao asked, rolling his eyes.

“Because I am in love with Horo Danshi, and I am going to make him my husband. His mother will give me her blessing if I am successful. And I will be successful, or there will be hell to pay,” Reina responded, not relishing the backup alternative of having to defeat Mama Horo in a duel. After having gotten a personal look at the mountainous matron, she put her odds at less than half. Masao rolled his eyes.

“Not that I give a shit, and would probably prefer if he didn’t, but does Horo Danshi actually feel the same way?”

“Da, he does. We destroyed the Raiden’s Breath together. That alone is more proof than you need,” she said, her expression momentarily turning horrifyingly…lovey.

“So it was you two who threatened the lives of my men, the Crown Prince, the other nobles, and everyone else on that train?”

“Naturally.”

“Then fuck off, Admiral. Horo Danshi ends up in an unmarked grave and you are going to get nothing,” said Masao, smiling back.

“I thought you’d say that, dear Vice Commander,” she said, placing a hand on his chest. “So I have prepared a note to your wife, ready to send through the Imperial Mail to her office. Something from your daughter about how she heard her father and Kimura Rei making some odd sounds together in a closet when you were in Kagoshima,” Reina said, prompting a chuckle from Masao.

“You must think my wife really stupid. She can see through forgeries before they even make it to her desk,” said Masao.

“That may be, but the letter will still plant doubt in her mind. All women suspect their men of infidelity, and, I know exactly how jealous your wife can be, Vice Commander. Didn’t she drop a toilet on your head once because you were off fucking other girls?” asked Reina, smiling sweetly.

“What I want to know, Rear Admiral, is how you came across that information. Because whoever leaked it to you is a dead man,” Masao purred back.

“Did it hurt when it dented your skull?” she asked, playfully tousling his hair over the spot where his skull did in fact have a small dent in it. Annoyed, Masao grabbed her wrist and glared at her.

“Bitch, I should’ve killed you in Kagoshima. But even I can’t imagine a worse fate than having Horo Danshi stick it in you. Fine. I’ll play your shitty game,” he said, shaking his head. To this, Reina smiled and placed a quick peck on his cheek. “I hope your children look like him,” he hissed back. At that moment, the Nian decided to take matters into her own hands.

"This sorrow!" she said, "It is too much for me! Good bye cruel world!"

Of course, given that this was a crowd of increasingly drunken assholes, the Nian’s “death” was mostly met with applause and cries of “Jump Bitch Jump!”

Masao shook his head as the Fire Marshal effectively faked her own death. Of course the blue-haired woman hadn’t actually killed herself – no doubt this was some sort of ploy to get that bumbling Horo Danshi to rush over to her in a catastrophic attempt to render aid that would actually get her killed, or an attempt to shank him in the kidneys while his back was turned. Poor Fire Marshal, you haven’t dealt with this demon like I have, he thought. Still, now was a good opportunity to end this, in Horo’s favor. How disgusting. He cupped his hands together, directing his voice at Gin and Risu.

“Call for a medevac! We’ve got a casualty!” he said, before leaping down to the stage amidst drunken hoots and cries encouraging all sorts of unpublishable acts. As he knelt down next to Bakunin, gently cradling her, he drew his pistol bolter and pointed it at Horo Danshi, drawing back the hammer with an audible *click*. “Tell the crowd you won. And stay the hell back, or else your mother and your fiancee will be very, very angry.”

Turning to Bakunin, he whispered in her ear: “Look. Fire Marshal, I’ll do anything you want, but just throw this game for me, okay? I’m begging you here,” he said, gritting his teeth.

 

[Hoshiko Gin]

Things got dark, as the mask pushed up against her nose; it's jaw at her piggly nose and eye sockets somewhere at her forehead. Her hands that had been fanning, ripped the mask off and fumbled with it before it finally wiggled away from her grasp. She snapped her head over to him with a grimace. "I am not a shdummeh!" As Ayumu laughed, Gin made a deliberate go at the ogre's face and skinned the green devil. Now she looked into the face of a young man that had become quite familiar with her recently; and reached her hand out with the flick of the wrist, stopping just before his face. "INSABURDINAZION!" She sandwiched the mask firmly between her thighs and threw her nose up, away from him. "Punishment. You mussht escort me home!" Somehow, that could be a questionable statement, "Err.. Rather, chu mussht carry me home, k?"

And sometime soon. "And itts Foxxy-SinPie to chu." Stated Gin through a drunken smirk. She had lost any interest in the swordplay on stage. Actually.. That one fellow seemed to just be staggering around like uselessly. Somewhere in the background behind her, a matronly woman drawled something about a dowry. Who was getting married? Did she like them? Were they going to invite her?

'Neh, Neh, neh, I have my own relationship problems to worry about..'

She thought, before hearing a thump somewhere from the stage. Apparently Nian-chan wasn't much of a woman after all. Some goddess she turned out to be. "Meehbee yoouu were rite. Meeebeee shee couldn't plezer heem."

Humph, there goes Masao, putting her to work even on her day off. Well really... Better then doing paperwork like good ole Orom-nuk. "Stay." She grumbled to Ayumu, before shoving her way through the endless waves of smashed Kumogakurian citizens, until she came across the two medics leaning against one of the stage support beams. Although this was a harmless event, injuries could be expected considering the dozens of inebriated bodies lolling about. "Look, zhish is chur resident ANBOOB shpeaking, ya hur? Go get da kitty ladeh off deh stage, K?"

"And they are the elite?" One laughed, as they walked up on stage beside Masao and the Fire Marshall to carry her off. Gin fumbled through the crowd again, with Ogre mask in tow looking for her bespectacled ride home.

 

[Kogami Ayumu]

Ayumu only had a few moments to laugh at Gin's expense before his mask was stolen right off of his face, revealing his true identity to Gin. Of course, he wasn't really trying to hide it, but with her look of surprise, he realized she truly hadn't known who she was talking to. Well, that was a bit awkward. She accused him of something that he couldn't understand and then placed his mask between her thighs where he dared not retrieve it. She was upset, that much was clear. She declared his punishment: escorting her home. 'Wait...' he thought. Was she proposing... 'Nononono I can't,' he thought, panicking a bit before she corrected herself with something that made more sense and was much less embarrassing. He sighed with relief, even though he was still being "punished". She corrected his earlier use of "chan" to "SinPie" and he nodded exasperatedly. "Yes, Sempai..." he said in a defeated tone.

A thud on stage drew Ayumu's attention to the act he had been briefly ignoring. The girl fell over in a fairly obvious opossom act, clearly trying to lure Horo over so she could sneakily attack him. Ayumu shook his head, laughing. Nobody was going to fall for that. All of a sudden, Masao's voice called out from the crowd, asking for a medic for the girl. Wait, what? He hopped up on stage and rushed to her side, holding her while whispering to the two actors. 'What?!' he thought, staring in disbelief. Gin told him to remain where he was while she went off to fetch a medic. Ayumu still couldn't believe it. He stood up quickly. "Oh come on! That'sh bullshit, shesh clearly fine!" he yelled out among the cheers and jeers of the crowd. Ayumu briefly had a fantasy of jumping up on stage and taking up the cat lady's sword in order to defend her and continue the show, but that hope was squashed as soon as he realized that Gin had taken his mask. He wasn't just going to go up there in front of everyone exposed.

Sighing, Ayumu turned away from the stage and walked out in to the aisle, giving up on the show. He looked around and spotted Gin looking for him. He thought about escaping, but decided against it for fear there would be retribution next time they met. Instead, he walked up to her and stopped, now ignoring the spectacle on stage. 'This whole thing is nothing but a cheap farce! A FARCE!' he thought with disappointment, shaking his head. He put his hands in his pocket and addressed Gin. "Well? Did you find a Medic?" he asked, not that he really cared. It was all a FARCE. He scratched the back of his head. "Can we go now?" he added.

 

[Horo Danshi]

Horo Danshi watched the scene unfold suddenly before him, and in a brief pause away from space and time, considered his options.

First, what a lovely thing to see that wretched man cast before him so! Leveling a deadly weapon at Horo Danshi was just the way in which the Dipshit Kid liked to imagine the ANBU vice-commander. Oh, was he ever just the picture of masculine charm (hrrrrk) and total self-confidence (HRRRRRRRRRRRKKK, leveling that crossbolter the way he did. Why just staring down the barrel of the weapon, fastidiously cleaned and oiled, was enough to make Horo Danshi feel like he was a cadet all over again, and that the last fifteen or so years had not been futilely spent drinking away his meager, violent existence. Didn't die by 25 but I'll be damned if I don't make it by 30 alright Horo let's get this thing going let's do this dance-

His next thought was one of genuine concern. He had been too busy continuing in his evasive "dance" to actually notice that his opponent had stuck herself with her own weapon, and that she was currently laying on the festival platform without even the remotest sign of writhing. Now Horo Danshi had faked enough suicides in his time to various functional purpose, be it getting out of class or staying in bed for another ten minutes/hours/daysatatime, and had even attempted the real deal with enough vigor and repetition (the universe frothed and gnashed its teeth at its misfortune at the evoking of this thought, and an entire epoch of world history vanished from some nearby parallel dimension as it crunched a universe, proverbial molar) to know what a quality suicide was like, and this was NOT the genuine article. Nevertheless, the Dipshit Kid was a good sport, and was totally willing to let the kunoichi before him have her fun. After all, the poor little lost lamb probably had superior officers too who were on her ass for that most onerous of sins, living, and who was Horo Danshi, mere chuunin of the Kumogakure Main Branch, to get in the way of an otherwise masterful escape attempt from some altogether unknown responsibility? Hear hear, my good opponent, Danshi thought to himself, eyes misting slightly in brotherly compassion. Worry not, for I shall not diminish your honor, and I will play my part in your masterful act!

Masao-chan was saying some words, muttering really, the Dipshit Kid couldn't really make sense of them one way or the other. But, feeling that he'd gotten the gist of it, he turned to the waiting crowd (hint: everyone was basically filing out at this point) and triumphantly declared "TODAY, Kumogakure, Horo Dansh--- err the Fuujin, god of the wind and totally not Horo Danshi nope! -- has emerged victorious once again! Let the booz-- let the coming year be a time of plenty for all, and...to all, a good night!"

Beaming, the Dipshit Kid took a deep bow, and flitted off from the stage like the incarnation of elements that he represented. There was a woman waiting for him in the audience somewhere, he knew. A woman who he had not disappointed. Oh, the praise still to come!

Of course, there were two women waiting for him.

But Horo Danshi would dwell on that fact later~


[Leaving Topic, unless stopped]

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

I gave the stink eye to the ANBU Sennin's husband when he came on stage, but said nothing when he asked me to throw the fight. I figured he must have made a wager on who would win and who would lose. I suppose I didn't have to win. I didn't really want to buy all those nachos anyway so this outcome was acceptable.

I waited to see what Fuujin would do and to my surprise he just walked off the stage after declaring his victory. Anti-climatic. If it were me I would have beheaded the Nian and paraded her head through the plaza. When I could no longer smell him nearby I stood myself up and followed with my own bow towards the audience.

"Thank you for participating in our presentation of The War Dance of Nian & Fuijin." I took my sword and pointed it towards Takai, "Unfortunately for you all though there seems to be some confusion. Some of you seem to think that my goal tonight was to kill the Fuijin. You are incorrect. My goal is to eat you all, and seeing as the wind god isn't here to stop me..."

Munch, munch, munch.

I threw myself towards Takai, aiming my teeth at his ear.





I would stop mid-way of course. You couldn't pay me to eat a man even if I were the real Nian. Now if before me was a fleshy female ANBU Sennin, that would be another thing altogether.

"Seriously though, off to bed everyone. We've long passed the maximum occupancy limit and I saw rats in the bar when I came in. This place is getting shut down by order of the Fire Marshall. Now off to bed."

 

[Takaki Saeko]

“You wanker, come any closer and I won’t just shoot you, I’ll gut you and skin you alive on this stage. I will use every last bit of my training to keep you alive and in pain as long as possible. You will know the true meaning of agony as you have never known it before,” growled Masao to Danshi as the chuunin assumed a trademark dopey expression that was probably some sort of miserable surrogate for expressing that one was deep in thought. His finger tensed on the trigger of his bolter, about to fire, when the chuunin suddenly made his victory announcement.

My thanks, Shinbatsu. I will make thee a thousand garlands to adorn thy holy member in return for this gift, Masao whispered under his breath as Horo Danshi actually…did what he was asked and declared his victory for all to see on stage, before peaceably leaving. There was no sudden explosion of failure and shrapnel, no avalanche of shit and despair, no spontaneous combustion of misfortune and neckbeards and cats jumping on one’s back and clawing and biting for no godrotting reason. Just…things going right for once. And I won’t even have Moro make all of the garlands, either, he thought, happily, as Bakunin finally rose from her feigned demise.

He was glad that Danshi hadn’t done anything stupid like attempt to cut off the Fire Marshal’s head and parade it around onstage, either. Because that would have resulted in his coring Danshi’s brains out of his skull and would have definitely resulted in a pissed-off Rear Admiral sending a letter that would upset his wife. Hell, the way things had turned out, he didn’t really mind that Bakunin’s sword was now leveled at him as well. If it meant not spending another moment at Horo Danshi’s mercy, well, he’d jump on ten swords.

He found himself flinching involuntarily as the Fire Marshal now lunged at him…with her teeth! Fortunately, from their earlier interview, he knew that this certain woman was most definitely only interested in the female species. And even so, losing an ear to this blue-haired masticator was also infinitely preferable to being toileted by Rin as well. Fortunately, she stopped, only to shoo everyone home.

“Everyone out! In two minutes we unleash the hounds!” he shouted, halfway serious. From the audience stands, Reina gave him a cheery thumbs-up, to which he responded with one of his own fingers, and not the thumb.

Later​

“Mother, I have done as you asked,” said Reina to the mountainous woman she escorted through the foggy, ill-lit streets of the Cronopolis. “And now, I will claim your son as my reward.”

The mountainous woman merely grunted in acknowledgement. Reina’s teeth glinted in the pale moonlight as she smiled ferociously, with the air of a predator who had tasted blood. She was twenty seven years old and in her prime. She would have Horo Danshi’s children, even if she had to rip them out of his loins.

Finis.​

Thank you everyone who participated in the event!

 

[Hoshiko Gin]

Where was-- oh, there he was!

"Sure, sure," Gin wasn't sure what she was responding to, but it couldn't have been anything that bad. "Back to the Sileo, no? She looked at Ayumu's arms expectantly, crossing her own and tapping her foot impatiently. This is the sort of things good sempais were supposed to do; Quality 'bonding time'. He would thank her later... Well probably not.

It occurred to her that she had let slip some things that maybe she shouldn't have. It was one thing to complain about a coworker to a complete stranger, but talking about personal relations with a coworker to another coworker (even unwittingly), was a frowned upon practice. Kogami wasn't your typical trainee though, and seemed trustworthy enough. She grabbed for his hand and tugged at it to pull him along. "Huuurrryy up slowpoke, aren't chuu shupposed to be carrying meh?"

There was a pause in the conversation, and for a moment she seemed to sober up some-- "That stuff earlier... Stays between us, okay?" Honestly, what benefit could he acquire by sharing such information?

At any rate, thank goodness the event was over; you truly couldn't appreciate the part of roleplaying drunk....

'Oh well~~ hehe'

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[Kogami Ayumu]

Ayumu groaned a little bit, somewhat dreading the walk. At the moment he just wanted to drop in to his bed, but his bed was not present. He noticed Gin standing their tapping her foot, though he wasn't really sure what she was expecting. Suddenly she reached out and grabbed his hand, beginning to pull him along without warning. He wasn't terribly drunk, but he was a little tipsy. He stumbled a bit before regaining his footing and following along after. She reminded him that he was supposed to carry her. 'Wait, she was serious?!' he thought with a bit of a panic, but she kept moving. Perhaps she was joking after all? He sighed with a bit of relief, increasing his pace so he wouldn't be dragged along. She took on a serious look for a moment, asking that he not repeat what he had heard that night. He guessed she was referring to Moro... as if it wasn't already obvious before now. He had picked up on it during one mission... anybody that had known them long would know about their feelings for sure. Ayumu laughed, shaking his head.

"Lips are sealed, sempai," he reassured her. He was glad to leave the event as well, the whole farce had been disappointing with its fake ending. The audience had not really had any influence on the outcome. Their interaction was nothing but a farce. 'A FARCE!' Ayumu thought angrily. After walking a ways, Ayumu thought he had gotten out of the carrying bit. She stumbled a few times, however, so just to be sure he put one of her arms over his next to keep her steady as they walked. Soon enough, after some drunken conversation, they would reach the Sileo. Of course, Ayumu escorting her to her quarters would raise some rumors about the drunken duo. These rumors would undoubtedly neglect to mention the fact that he left less than five minutes later to go to his own quarters.

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