Roof of the Torre Celeste
Kumogakure, Kaminari no Kuni
...2330 hours
“Goodbye, Vice Commander Takaki…”
It can’t be helped. Now I can see Dyu and Kyoto again, Masao thought, closing his eyes as Makoro’s trigger finger tensed to send him to oblivion...
"Dropping in!" suddenly chimed a rather…feminine male voice out of the blue, along with the swooshing of twin blades. Masao’s eyes darted open just in time to see the trainee’s midair attack.
Deftly, the missing Hayata shifted out of the way of the first blade, which sliced the air next to Masao’s head, and with a shower of sparks intercepted the other – with the palm of his hand! Before Ayumu could react in surprise or even touch the ground, Makoro wheeled his bolter around and fired twice at point-blank range. The boy was flung immediately flung back by twin bolter-shots that crashed into the light cuirass on his chest. Fortunately, the rounds had not penetrated the armor, but they still hit with enough force to break ribs, making breathing extra painful for the trainee.
Makoro glowered and dropped a piece of metal from the hand that had intercepted what should have been a killing sword-blow. A nearly-bisected Kumo forehead protector clanked against the stone, answering the question of how he had avoided losing an arm. Although pooh-poohed by fashion-conscious genin, the things were clearly built to withstand some tremendous impacts, hence the reason they were even issued at all.
More bolter-cracks issued forth as Makoro continued to fire at Ayumu without missing a beat, stylishly twirling the weapon around his finger in a fashion reminiscent of the unique armed cowherds who patrolled Rain Country’s heartland. The trainee attempted to parry, but the relentless rain of shots overwhelmed his defenses, and a bolt passed through his armor, entering his shoulder.
Masao wasted no time, immediately rolling backward and getting into a low battle stance. Twin blackened meta-blades of chakra snapped forth from below his wrists, and he leapt at the missing from behind, intending to drive one or both of the blades into the man’s lower back. One would sever the aorta, the other the spinal cord, robbing him of legs and life.
Surprisingly, the blades both hit their mark with a gush of crimson, and Makoro fell to the ground, convulsing… only to vanish and appear from the side with a brutal leg-sweep attack. Clone! thought the Vice Commander as he backflipped and avoided having his knees shattered by the impact. That’s right, the Hayata Family is a clan of master genjutsu users! We’re going to have to strip his advantage if we’re to stand a chance against him! Masao whirled in fury, pressing the attack with his twin wristblades. Makoro was clearly no slouch in combat – every strike was parried with the man’s forearm protectors or simply dodged, and responded to in kind with close-range bolter fire that Masao could only barely dodge.
You wanker, that was all simply to occupy your hands while my reinforcements got here, thought Masao as he rolled away into a tiger stance. The missing smirked and leveled his bolter, intending to take the Vice Commander’s head off at midrange, only to suddenly have his shot thrown off by a sudden mass of ethereal fur and claws that jumped onto his back with the fury of a thousand angry bobcats and began to wildly rend flesh with its claws. That was right – the creature Moro summoned existed both in the real world as well as the Fade, and would be able to tell the difference between a real and a clone target.
A gout of crimson erupted from Makoro’s neck as the cat sank its needle teeth into his vessels. Although weakened, the missing still reached across with his left hand and grasped the creature by its scruff, ripping it away from his back. He savagely flung it in the air and shot it twice, turning it into a mass of mangled black tendrils and ichor that fell to the ground below.
A titanic flash of lightning seared across everyone’s retinae, briefly illuminating the horrific scene of Rin riding a furious Hu-Po, iron toilet dragged along with her tentacles like some sort of wildly inappropriate trailer hitch. The sight of Rin’s particular brand of plumbing-based justice made both his head hurt and his heart swell. That’s mai waifu! he grinned for a moment, before getting back to the fight.
It was back to Ayumu and Masao now, as each man charged at Makoro with renewed vigor. Both Vice Commander and Trainee swung, parried, and thrust in perfect sequencing with each other, and it was not long until they started to land hits. A chakra blade sank into Makoro’s shoulder with a squishing noise, and one of Ayumu’s blades opened a gash in his leg, spilling blood on the stones. As Masao narrowly avoided a punch to his throat, he realized that the enemy was neglecting to heal himself or even defend himself properly to do so. It was as if he had stopped feeling pain or even sensation, and as a result he was getting clumsier, weaker with his attacks and parried. But why?
Out of the corner of his eye, Masao spied Gin in the distance, concentrating hard while she knelt in concealment. Ah, so that was the reason. Clever girl, he thought, smiling to himself. To make the enemy incognizant of his own injuries was a devious plan in that Makoro would easily be on the lookout for genjutsu that inflicted pain or attempted to cloud his senses – he would not think to watch out for jutsu that on the surface “helped.”
“Checkmate, bitch,” suddenly sounded from behind Makoro, who in his wounded and numbed state only began to turn to intercept the threat. But it was too late for the missing nin as a sizzling blade of pure lightning erupted from his chest like an infernal spike of pure hatred. As the missing roared in anger and shock, Masao responded with his own shout, shooting both his hands forward and sinking both hidden blades into the man’s ribcage at once. Simultaneously, Ayumu’s twin blades also pierced his chest from the opposite side, effectively impaling the man five times over. At the same time, Gin’s jutsu terminated, allowing him to feel the full impact of all of his wounds at once.
Makoro’s eyes rolled back into his head as he vomited black and crimson over himself, and his grip on the bolter he carried loosened, causing the weapon to clatter to the stained stones below. Simultaneously, Masao, Ayumu, and Moro withdrew their blades and Makoro’s blood spattered across their faces and bodies. The stricken missing now fell to his knees, barely supporting himself with his hands. Lifeblood pooled around him, seeping into the cracks in the stones. No matter how skilled of a healer he might have been, these were lethal injuries – he was finished.
As Ayumu raised his blades to deliver a decapitating blow, Masao held up a hand and shook his head.
“Halt. He’s Hayata-sama’s only family. The Raikage will be the one to deliver final justice,” said Masao grimly, before walking over to Shin and kneeling.
“Shin…let’s get you out of these undignified restraints,” he said, standing and driving one of his wristblades into the chakra-sealed lock that held Shin’s manacles together. The lock split, and the manacles dissolved. As they walked over to Makoro’s kneeling form, Masao held out a hand to Ayumu. “Trainee, lend the Raikage one of your blades. Hayata-sama, when you’re ready,” he said, backing away.
Makoro laughed, a coarse, painful bark. He wheezed as he drew shallow breaths, looking up at Shin.
“He’s right…nephew… I admit…defeat… Make it…quick…”
“Thank you, sensei. I feel much better now. I’m sorry I made you worry about me. I’ll never, ever, be that weak again,” said Shiranai, placing a hand on Kushin’s shoulder with renewed resolve. “I’ve learned a lot over the past few months. The country is suffering. It needs a strong leader, and I owe it to everyone who’s helped me, and everyone who’s died for me,” he said, thinking of Tama and Senna with a grim expression on his face.
“Fancy meeting you guys here,” suddenly piped Tama, as the little girl ran toward Shiranai and Kushin. The future Shogun gasped, and scooped Tama into a bear-hug of an embrace whose strength surprised even him. Realizing that he was probably crushing her and/or undoing some of Kushin’s healing work, he quickly set her down.
“Mochizuki! You’re alive! Thank Raiden!” he exclaimed. “Did…did Senna make it?” he asked with some trepidation.
Hearing Tama’s answer, he wiped his brow in relief.
“Then I’m doubly grateful,” he said, smiling gently before turning to Kushin with new resolve. “Sensei. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to also tender you my resignation from the medical branch of Kumogakure. Tradition states that the Shogun of Kaminari no Kuni cannot have an official superior, although I always will heed you as my sensei. Also, I need to ask both of you shinobi for a quick mission. My government is in imminent danger of being stolen by a particular asshole of a Daimyo and my chancellor is probably in major trouble due to my absence. Can I ask you to bring me to Raiden’s Eye posthaste?”
"Don't fuckin' touch me! I'll cut her goddamned tit off! I'll fuckin' do it!" screamed one of Makoro's henchmen, his face bloody and burned, as he slowly backstepped from a crowd of angry, well-armed Cloud shinobi and civilians brandishing bolters and swords. One of the man's arms was wrapped tightly around a terrified civilian girl's neck, and his other hand held a serrated dagger, the tip of which was held tight against the girl's chest. To his back, a giant, smoldering crater that smoked furiously, and was surprisingly lined with charred feathers.
"That's more like it, bitches! Now you fucks are going to get me and missy here a goddamned horse, plus I want a million yen in cash, and..."
The henchman's babbled demands were suddenly cut short with a wet-sounding *clunk* as a blackened, partially melted, and still red-hot-in-places toilet arced into the sky from the bottom of the crater and smashed into his head, crushing his skull and brains to a gooey red paste and popping his eyeballs out of their sockets. The hostage screamed as she was splattered by ichor, and ran mindlessly into the crowd, where her family quickly took hold of her.
In the center of the crater, an arm shot up from the rubble, followed by the rest of a woman's body, also blackened and smoking, but also throwing off arcs of electricity which seared the nearby ground. The woman coughed and wiped a layer of soot from her face, before picking up one of the more undamaged feathers nearby and placing it neatly in her hair. The crowd gathered around the rim of the crater collectively gasped as they realized who the woman was.
And for the first time in days, Santaru Rin allowed herself to smile.
Kumogakure, Kaminari no Kuni
...2330 hours
It can’t be helped. Now I can see Dyu and Kyoto again, Masao thought, closing his eyes as Makoro’s trigger finger tensed to send him to oblivion...
Deftly, the missing Hayata shifted out of the way of the first blade, which sliced the air next to Masao’s head, and with a shower of sparks intercepted the other – with the palm of his hand! Before Ayumu could react in surprise or even touch the ground, Makoro wheeled his bolter around and fired twice at point-blank range. The boy was flung immediately flung back by twin bolter-shots that crashed into the light cuirass on his chest. Fortunately, the rounds had not penetrated the armor, but they still hit with enough force to break ribs, making breathing extra painful for the trainee.
Makoro glowered and dropped a piece of metal from the hand that had intercepted what should have been a killing sword-blow. A nearly-bisected Kumo forehead protector clanked against the stone, answering the question of how he had avoided losing an arm. Although pooh-poohed by fashion-conscious genin, the things were clearly built to withstand some tremendous impacts, hence the reason they were even issued at all.
More bolter-cracks issued forth as Makoro continued to fire at Ayumu without missing a beat, stylishly twirling the weapon around his finger in a fashion reminiscent of the unique armed cowherds who patrolled Rain Country’s heartland. The trainee attempted to parry, but the relentless rain of shots overwhelmed his defenses, and a bolt passed through his armor, entering his shoulder.
Masao wasted no time, immediately rolling backward and getting into a low battle stance. Twin blackened meta-blades of chakra snapped forth from below his wrists, and he leapt at the missing from behind, intending to drive one or both of the blades into the man’s lower back. One would sever the aorta, the other the spinal cord, robbing him of legs and life.
Surprisingly, the blades both hit their mark with a gush of crimson, and Makoro fell to the ground, convulsing… only to vanish and appear from the side with a brutal leg-sweep attack. Clone! thought the Vice Commander as he backflipped and avoided having his knees shattered by the impact. That’s right, the Hayata Family is a clan of master genjutsu users! We’re going to have to strip his advantage if we’re to stand a chance against him! Masao whirled in fury, pressing the attack with his twin wristblades. Makoro was clearly no slouch in combat – every strike was parried with the man’s forearm protectors or simply dodged, and responded to in kind with close-range bolter fire that Masao could only barely dodge.
You wanker, that was all simply to occupy your hands while my reinforcements got here, thought Masao as he rolled away into a tiger stance. The missing smirked and leveled his bolter, intending to take the Vice Commander’s head off at midrange, only to suddenly have his shot thrown off by a sudden mass of ethereal fur and claws that jumped onto his back with the fury of a thousand angry bobcats and began to wildly rend flesh with its claws. That was right – the creature Moro summoned existed both in the real world as well as the Fade, and would be able to tell the difference between a real and a clone target.
A gout of crimson erupted from Makoro’s neck as the cat sank its needle teeth into his vessels. Although weakened, the missing still reached across with his left hand and grasped the creature by its scruff, ripping it away from his back. He savagely flung it in the air and shot it twice, turning it into a mass of mangled black tendrils and ichor that fell to the ground below.
A titanic flash of lightning seared across everyone’s retinae, briefly illuminating the horrific scene of Rin riding a furious Hu-Po, iron toilet dragged along with her tentacles like some sort of wildly inappropriate trailer hitch. The sight of Rin’s particular brand of plumbing-based justice made both his head hurt and his heart swell. That’s mai waifu! he grinned for a moment, before getting back to the fight.
It was back to Ayumu and Masao now, as each man charged at Makoro with renewed vigor. Both Vice Commander and Trainee swung, parried, and thrust in perfect sequencing with each other, and it was not long until they started to land hits. A chakra blade sank into Makoro’s shoulder with a squishing noise, and one of Ayumu’s blades opened a gash in his leg, spilling blood on the stones. As Masao narrowly avoided a punch to his throat, he realized that the enemy was neglecting to heal himself or even defend himself properly to do so. It was as if he had stopped feeling pain or even sensation, and as a result he was getting clumsier, weaker with his attacks and parried. But why?
Out of the corner of his eye, Masao spied Gin in the distance, concentrating hard while she knelt in concealment. Ah, so that was the reason. Clever girl, he thought, smiling to himself. To make the enemy incognizant of his own injuries was a devious plan in that Makoro would easily be on the lookout for genjutsu that inflicted pain or attempted to cloud his senses – he would not think to watch out for jutsu that on the surface “helped.”
Makoro’s eyes rolled back into his head as he vomited black and crimson over himself, and his grip on the bolter he carried loosened, causing the weapon to clatter to the stained stones below. Simultaneously, Masao, Ayumu, and Moro withdrew their blades and Makoro’s blood spattered across their faces and bodies. The stricken missing now fell to his knees, barely supporting himself with his hands. Lifeblood pooled around him, seeping into the cracks in the stones. No matter how skilled of a healer he might have been, these were lethal injuries – he was finished.
As Ayumu raised his blades to deliver a decapitating blow, Masao held up a hand and shook his head.
“Halt. He’s Hayata-sama’s only family. The Raikage will be the one to deliver final justice,” said Masao grimly, before walking over to Shin and kneeling.
“Shin…let’s get you out of these undignified restraints,” he said, standing and driving one of his wristblades into the chakra-sealed lock that held Shin’s manacles together. The lock split, and the manacles dissolved. As they walked over to Makoro’s kneeling form, Masao held out a hand to Ayumu. “Trainee, lend the Raikage one of your blades. Hayata-sama, when you’re ready,” he said, backing away.
Makoro laughed, a coarse, painful bark. He wheezed as he drew shallow breaths, looking up at Shin.
“He’s right…nephew… I admit…defeat… Make it…quick…”
Meanwhile…
<i></i>
“Mochizuki! You’re alive! Thank Raiden!” he exclaimed. “Did…did Senna make it?” he asked with some trepidation.
Hearing Tama’s answer, he wiped his brow in relief.
“Then I’m doubly grateful,” he said, smiling gently before turning to Kushin with new resolve. “Sensei. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to also tender you my resignation from the medical branch of Kumogakure. Tradition states that the Shogun of Kaminari no Kuni cannot have an official superior, although I always will heed you as my sensei. Also, I need to ask both of you shinobi for a quick mission. My government is in imminent danger of being stolen by a particular asshole of a Daimyo and my chancellor is probably in major trouble due to my absence. Can I ask you to bring me to Raiden’s Eye posthaste?”
Concurrently...
<i></i>"Don't fuckin' touch me! I'll cut her goddamned tit off! I'll fuckin' do it!" screamed one of Makoro's henchmen, his face bloody and burned, as he slowly backstepped from a crowd of angry, well-armed Cloud shinobi and civilians brandishing bolters and swords. One of the man's arms was wrapped tightly around a terrified civilian girl's neck, and his other hand held a serrated dagger, the tip of which was held tight against the girl's chest. To his back, a giant, smoldering crater that smoked furiously, and was surprisingly lined with charred feathers.
"That's more like it, bitches! Now you fucks are going to get me and missy here a goddamned horse, plus I want a million yen in cash, and..."
The henchman's babbled demands were suddenly cut short with a wet-sounding *clunk* as a blackened, partially melted, and still red-hot-in-places toilet arced into the sky from the bottom of the crater and smashed into his head, crushing his skull and brains to a gooey red paste and popping his eyeballs out of their sockets. The hostage screamed as she was splattered by ichor, and ran mindlessly into the crowd, where her family quickly took hold of her.
In the center of the crater, an arm shot up from the rubble, followed by the rest of a woman's body, also blackened and smoking, but also throwing off arcs of electricity which seared the nearby ground. The woman coughed and wiped a layer of soot from her face, before picking up one of the more undamaged feathers nearby and placing it neatly in her hair. The crowd gathered around the rim of the crater collectively gasped as they realized who the woman was.
And for the first time in days, Santaru Rin allowed herself to smile.
