Private Stress Relief [Spectating]

[Ryuu Nozomi]

The Colosseum lay empty, the vastness of this place was unsettling in the absence of noise. No echoes of Chuunin sparring, no clatter of weapons, no murmured voices from trainees lingering after drills. Today, the arena held no souls save for the few who had been allowed inside, and Nozomi who had spent the entire evening training. It was eerie to see a man who stood tall and broad shouldered, with a cape trailing behind him like a super hero, make his way into the arena proper. This, piqued Nozomi's interest, and in the spirit of not being caught, she would devise an alternate route.

From the outer walls of the Colosseum proper, Nozomi pressed herself into the stone, clay clinging to her fingertips. She would infuse chakra into this clay which would allow her to stick to such a smooth surface and climb. What drove her to such lengths? It was curiosity that gnawed at her until it became impossible to ignore. Whatever was about to take place, she needed to see it. Her ascent was silent and she was careful to make it so. She molded the clay thin and sticky, securing her weight against the ancient surface with ease. Her breathing stayed measured, her body close to the wall as she climbed. Inch by inch she pulled herself upward until she reached the top rim. She quickly located a proper spot, tucked into a crease of shadow where the wall met an arch, she would crouch low. The clay strands she had used for the climb were peeled away and tucked back, leaving no sign of her presence. From this vantage, she could see everything below.

The only figure out on the arena floor was the man she saw enter, red hair glinting against the freshly polished armor that fitted tight to his frame. Even at a distance, Nozomi could see contrast between his ragged beard that likely hid a tired face, and his armor that burnished with care. He moved with the ease of command, and there was no mistaking his presence for someone ordinary.

Then, another arrived. Smaller, cloaked, with hood drawn low, and a mask which concealed all expression. Their steps were so light they barely disturbed the sand. The faceless figure’s presence stiffened something inside Nozomi. She remembered another mask like it, worn by the one with similar stature who had confronted her beneath the city when she had lingered too long where she wasn’t meant to be. Was this the same one? She couldn’t know for certain, but the similarity tightened her chest all the same.

Now, they stood across from one another and it looked like a knight in shining armor standing off against darkness. A giant against the shadow.

Nozomi wished she could hear them, but from her high perch she could only see the movement of mouths, the shifting of stances, and gestures passing between them. Whatever was being spoken was lost to distance and wind. Were they challenging each other? Setting rules? She could only guess. The tall man seemed eager as he shifted his weight, rolled his shoulders, and set his stance with a smirk tugging faintly at his lips. The masked figure tilted their head, as though reminding him of limits, or warning him of caution. It felt less like a brawl and more like something structured. Two titans were testing one another, but with restraint born of responsibility.

From her place on the rim, Nozomi pressed her palms harder into the stone because she knew these weren’t common shinobi. They were something else, something far beyond her reach. She shouldn’t be here, and she knew if she were caught, there would be consequences. Yet her body remained rooted, just like when she saw the interrogation. She needed to watch.

A shift in the air drew her attention sharply back to the red haired man. His smirk deepened as energy rolled from him in a wave she felt even at her perch as the arena itself seemed to hum. He raised one hand high in a formal stance as the sound began and then... it struck. The ground shook as a massive weapon materialized from the air above, slamming into the sand with thunderous force. The weapon was an axe, a monstrous thing which caused Nozomi's eyes to widen. This was a declaration of the strength that existed within the village’s highest ranks. To summon such a thing so casually, just to begin a fight, was an overwhelming amount of power Nozomi could hardly comprehend.

Below, the red haired man stood before the colossal axe with a calm certainty, his posture daring the masked figure to make their move.

From the shadows above, Nozomi watched in careful silence with clay stained fingers digging into the stone. She did not know their names, their intentions, or the outcome that would follow. All she knew was that this was power, raw and unrestrained. It was the kind of ceiling she could only dream of reaching one day.

She would not look away.

[Marked for Training, WC: 844]

 

[Ryuu Nozomi]

From the rim of the Colosseum Nozomi watched with focus and intent. The knight with a red mane radiated the sort of confidence that shook the air. Opposite him, the masked figure barely shifted. Then, everything broke open.

The knight’s chakra spiked and for a heartbeat, Nozomi thought the walls themselves would crack. Something unseen shivered down her spine with a pulse that made her clay slick fingertips tremble against the ledge. He stepped forward with deliberate movements, and she swore she saw the faint glint of black ripple across his weapon, as if the metal had some vile hunger. The air pressed heavy on her skin as if saturated with smoke and debris. The masked shinobi moved too. Not necessarily with strength, but with certainty. Their body blurred with an edge of divinity, a halo of shifting chakra as though they were absorbing the strength of the world around them.

The arena stilled and the match began.

The Knight was faster than his armor suggested. He surged forward, and Nozomi’s breath caught as shadows of him split into three. Even from her high perch she almost doubted her eyes and questioned if it was Genjutsu. The masked fighter reeled in confusion, searching for which of the three was real. Nozomi bit her lip as she worried being unable to tell them apart.

The knight struck and his weapon blurred downward like black light, caught against a sudden whirl of spinning gust as the masked fighter twisted. Sparks burst where steel kissed steel and the clash rang through the Colosseum like a bell, sending a thrill through Nozomi’s chest. The masked one staggered slightly as the black energy had drawn blood; she could see it in the way crimson dampened the pale fabric beneath their cloak.

Then, a tide of crimson rushed across the battlefield.

It happened so suddenly Nozomi almost couldn't contain herself from crying out in surprise. The masked fighter slammed their hands together, chakra pouring outward, and the very air itself turned to liquid. In an instant the Colosseum floor became a drowning world. A massive dome of pure blood swelled into existence rolling outward until the knight himself was trapped inside.

Nozomi’s fingers dug grooves into the stone. She felt her lungs tighten in sympathy, her body fooled into believing she was also beneath the waves. Within the dome, movements grew slower and blurred by refracted light. The knight’s strikes, once sharp as lightning became a bit more dull. He swung still, but each movement came with a cost of Oxygen he could no longer refill.

However, knight did not falter. His chakra flared again, black energy writhing through the red liquid like fresh ink across a pool. He raised his weapon high and then drove it down into the arena itself.

The sand erupted into blossoms as a beautiful field of flowers burst through the dome. Petals unfurl in colors too vivid to be natural. They swayed where no wind blew and each bud shimmered with death.

The dome remained in tact even as the flowers threatened to break free, and each clash, despite the viscosity of blood, shook the Colosseum.

The knight thrust his hand outward, energy crackling down his arm toward his opponent, but the strike missed, dissipating into the water. The dome answered, pulling tighter, suffocation clawing for him again. Then the masked shinobi began their next move. Hands combined in a seal so rapid Nozomi almost lost track, and the red liquid around them trembled. A pulse of chakra flared, and from it... something appeared. Nozomi’s eyes widened as a new figure materialized in the dome. It was a separate entity and yet it immediately tethered itself to the masked figure like armor. The summoning was clean and instantaneous, like slipping on a second skin.

The knight answered with fury and the blossoms erupted, their beauty vile as they lashed against the masked figure. Nozomi saw wounds open across the figure's body, despite not being able to see crimson in the pools of red that covered the battlefield. Still, the cloaked one did not yield.

Nozomi realized what she was watching wasn’t merely a contest of power. It was a war of endurance. Her stomach twisted as she began to realize just how powerful these two individuals really are.

[WC: 694 - Marked for Training]

Edit: Changed Water Prison to Blood Prison for proper thematic effect. Changed description of weapons to dark energy that seem to form with each thrust for proper thematic effect.

 

[Ryuu Nozomi]

Nozomi continued to watch the world below distort into myth. The masked one had raised a sea of blood inside the arena moments before. Even from this height, Nozomi felt the pressure of it, the way air pulled thin around its skin. Blood bent to the Anbu's will as if it recognized its owner. For a breath, Nozomi thought the red-haired man was pinned in a moving prison that would drown him standing. Then the sphere shivered. It was a tremor along the surface that ran through the entire dome. It began to bend inward, not bursting but dissipating as if it never existed at all. Nozomi’s fingers dug into the stone in tension as she realized that wasn’t just a clumsy dispelling. Something inside the trap had interfered, the work of the armored knight. Meanwhile, the Anbu's shoulders tightened from the pain, as though she had chosen to let it go because the cost of holding it had grown too high.

Flowers that had previously thrust up from bare sand began to bloom and fill the air with thick pollen. Creating a garden that seemed to come alive and bite at its opponent. Nozomi watched in awe as the battlefield turned to a florist’s shop and grave all at once. The man in armor shifted from stance to stance like a book turning through pages. The Anbu responded with a stone surge from her palm, an Earthslide wall rising in front of her like a lifted shield. Nozomi saw the texture packed grains, and the faint shine of compressed rough stone. Not a withdrawal, but a shield to resist the onslaught. With the Dome gone, the Anbu played for angles and vision. Nozomi thought it was a sensible thing, necessary even. It would not stop the flowers’ periodic cut, but it would cut lanes, block lines, make the field more manageable.

The Knight answered by clapping palm to earth, and a contract creature tore reality open as if it were a sail. Smoke belched and horns came first, curving like punctuation marks. Then a goat stepped forth, a duelist with a soldier’s eyes and the patience of old stone. Skully, the name rang in Nozomi’s head unbidden, the way certain mythic titles arrive already learned. The creature didn’t balk, it saluted the man with a glance, then slid to the side. Taking to the fight as if they had practiced this dance a thousand times. The Knight changed as well in this, he grew a terrifying look of marks indicating that he was bound to this creature and had an innate connection beyond her understanding.

Then, the Anbu responded with three identical clones stepping out from the shadow. They became indiscernible as the Anbu and their own contract went on the offensive. The Knight had other plans, his counterattack was surgical. After, more petals had flown and it was apparent there was a use of poison, perhaps even Genjutsu from these flowers. The Knight would use the same tactic in splitting himself, though more for defense. The Anbu, losing track was misdirected into attacking fakes. The next defensive maneuver was to suspend itself mid-air in an attempt to be untouchable. It's as if it was a fly walking into a trap that was quickly swatted down by the plants around. The Knight was ready with strikes that shook the very arena itself. An unarmed flurry with immense weight that happened in almost no time at all, an amount of force that Nozomi knew would end most who called themselves Shinobi. The Anbu withstood such brunt force, and even the force of the Ram to follow.

Yet, they continued on. They clashed and collided once more. The fight, to her untrained eyes, blurred into a pace that was difficult to keep up with. Clones siphoning chakra, terrain shifting, time itself shuttering in bursts of blood and earth. The Knight was slowly unraveling the defenses of the Anbu, and everything was happening at such a fast pace. Seconds stretched to feel like an eternity as Nozomi held her breath with bulging eyes straining to see the world below.

Eventually, the marks faded from both combatants. The Knight and the Anbu acknowledged the spar and went their ways.

With white knuckles still gripping the edge of the rim of the Colosseum, Nozomi was struck in awe. What she had seen was not just a battle, it was precision and purpose. It was the look at the mountain she hoped to one day climb. She saw much of battle this day, and would hopefully be able to learn how to break down the traps before they are set around her one day. Time lost meaning as she lay there for far too long, recounting what she had seen over and over. When she finally rose to leave, she promised herself one thing. When she thought herself worthy, she would find one of these two great shinobi and ask them to measure her with honesty.

[Leaving Topic, Thanks for letting me Spectate!]