“I haven’t even broken a sweat, come on now, show me what makes you special.”
The words rang around the Uzumoreru’s head as he drew actual blades from beneath his shirt. His teeth were grit in a rage, his irises needle points from the insult. It was just a spar, something in the old assassin’s brain tried to remind him, but the damnable Uzumoreru Pride refused to take the slight. Toushin’s veins popped up from beneath his flesh, exposing themselves until a few burst out black blood that slithered from the wounds, up his arms, and towards the heart. They pierced it, before gripping his flesh with a secret ninjutsu that forced his adrenaline and remove limiters from his muscles. The sudden flex of tissue made his normally chubby form appear thin for a moment before the old man blinked across the room towards the insulting Kazekage. Oh, he would show Shin why he was special; he would make them beg to forget why.
As Toushin’s flickering image halted inches before Shin with a downward strike, the entire room suddenly became engulfed in flames. The instantaneous rise in heat made both seasoned combatants hop back away from each other, neither of them sure who had made the sudden attack or how; before realizing a moment too late they were no longer alone. Standing at the entrance to the room, wreathed in fire was a man standing 6’3’’ with long brown hair that lifted with the heated air currents. His face was covered in a small beard with a long braid tied down from his chin. Two solid red eyes with white irises looked at Uzu first, and then Shin, before grinning at the latter. He was dressed in little more than a leather skirt made from beast skin with a cow skull to gird his loins. Tribalism markings crisscrossed his flesh all painted in red, and the old assassin was the first to recognize one of the Wind Country’s native people; a Nomad. These were the people who marched away and back into the desert centuries ago after Primus threw down the last Ancient ruling the human race; left to find a way to restore the land - a goal they were still allegedly seeking.
The flame-wreathed Nomad lifted his hands. Shin was the first to act, crossing the office with such blistering speed Toushin fully realized just how much the Suna leader had been holding back. It made him wonder what the point of sharing such a large power gap between them could accomplish except shame him into submission; something he was incapable of doing. Yet all that speed amounted to nothing when fire erupted not on Shin themselves, but the small personal garden they kept within. It caused the Chikamatsu to freeze up for a split second, reeling from the sudden death of a living form that, to their clan, was just as important as humans were; perhaps even more. The split second of pause was all the attacker needed as he tossed something square and pink at the Kazekage. As it closed into Shin’s personal space, and chakra, it erupted into a large coffin-like box that absorbed the Sunagakurian leader within before returning to the size of a small cube once again - all within a matter of two seconds.
Toushin’s blade was already coming down after the first second.
Another roar of fire send the old assassin flying back and over the desk. His hand reached out to grab the teapot off the desk as he felt himself being forced against the window. It had been a lifetime since he had last been lit on fire, and the pain of burning entirely was one he had just as soon forget - for good reason - yet, even through that hellish inferno he was trapped in the assassin made a split second decision to lean his weight into the window. Uzu smashed right on through, a fireball in the grand sunlight outside of the tower. His fingers flipped through a few seals as he held onto the pot to fill it with chakra. Water exploded out from within, to cover the burning assassin and quell the flames moments before he cratered into the pavement below.
“L-legs…can’t…” he vomited a small pool of black blood. Ruptured organs, shattered spine, the left arm he used to catch his fall somewhat was a paste beneath him. Yet, despite the fall without any chakra cushion, Toushin was alive. Weakly, his right formed into a seal moments after his impact to make all the blood around him form itself into a ball that solidified into something stronger than steel. A circular section separated itself to present a wheel like formation that peeled out before taking off towards the Omni Prime. Three seconds later, and the entire tower was suddenly surrounded by both the ANBU and the Main Branch in an emergency order issued by the wounded Uzumoreru Toushin:
“Code Black: The Kazekage has been captured, the kidnapper is still in the Tower.”
Before they could take any further steps after arriving on scene, however, the air suddenly became drier than normal. A shinobi remarked how dry their lips had suddenly become, then another’s lips cracked and then split moments after. A handful of seasoned vets within the group understood what was happening and began to grab the necks of their fellow soldier before turning to hurl them away with all of their chakra-enhanced might. Of the fifty-seven soldiers that arrived on scene within seconds of the call to arms - ten survived. The grand metal tower that had seen the village into the caves below and rise back up to the sky above twisted inwards, warping the metal and structure before suddenly expanding outwards in a fiery explosion of steel, magma, flame, and flesh. The explosion took out the Kazekage Tower, everyone within, and probably would have taken a majority of the village were it not for the heroic efforts of another village legend.
Takahashi Sousuke was a man who always planned ahead for every scenario he could imagine. In the one of which the Kazekage Tower were to be used as the central focal point of an explosion aimed to take out Suna, the tower itself would be dropped deep beneath the dunes into the caverns below. Instead of an event that would have seen easily half of Suna reduced to dust, the Sunans were treated to a minor earthquake instead. Outside of the initial blast that took nearly a hundred solders, not another single injury was reported as the explosion over the empty cavern forced the flames and force downwards. Once again the most famed Steward of the Sunahoshi had saved the village from certain doom; and he wasn’t even on the scene.
Loud bangs of firearms being shot one after the other towards a row of sandbags rang out into the desert air. Behind the firing line was a large circular rock formation that surrounded a naturally large, dry, well where a major group of Nomads resided. It was known as The Devil’s Mouth for it’s original infamy of swallowing entire trading caravans whole after being covered by the sands following a dune storm. This phenomena due to earth chakra crystals that lined the entrance into the well that would cause sand that flowed into it to become caught in a magnet-like field. The surrounding cliff was raised by a Nomad long ago who sought to settled their people into the well as a permanent location when the majority of their clan became old. It was one of the only settlements in the entirety of the Wind Country that was entirely populated by nomads; 'twas also the only one trading. Perhaps it was the trading with others and settling down, that which only a handful of other clans have even attempted, was what lead to their current predicament. For beyond the sandbags they were constantly firing into, were Sunagakure Shinobi. God-like beings whom’s children could easily slaughter most of their kind.
The chief of the Nomads, Hasii, was a large framed man with an excessive belly. His arms were like living boulders of muscle and his legs were clearly unhindered by the weight brought about from the lavish lifestyle of a dormant Nomad King. His large dark hand was clasped against his brow, azure irises looking up at the clouds blocking his once perfect view of the desert sky. Clouds brought by explosions, death, and war. How had it come to this so quickly? Information was slow in the great desert. By the time the king had heard of the the last Kazekage’s disappearance, the shinobi had already been sieging his clan for two days. His attempts at parlay were met with grim returns. Suna was no longer independent.
Sunagakure worked for the Barons. How the hell did that happen?
It started with two brothers. Yotori Higan, and Yotori Lou. A pair of twins from the Fire Country who had received a rare business opportunity - quit living off their dead parents last remaining shreds of wealth and come work for their superiorly rich uncle on the desert; owner of the biggest train company in Wind. Neither of which either brother really wanted to do. Instead, they decided to move into the desert, bump off their uncle, and preform a hostile takeover to return those vast riches back to a country that had trees. Their plan…half-worked. Killing their relative was simple, but taking control of the company was not. Despite being made major shareholders with two other merchant lords in Wind, their uncle’s will stipulated that in the event of his death, and no named successor, that the company’s control would be turned over to the Four Oil Barons; Higan, Lou, Lady Ishii Mako, and the magnanimous Lord Ryūō.
For all their machinations and schemes, Higan and Lou could not over come the Daimyo or Ryūō. Aside from the insane amount of protection that those two rolled with at all times, the lacking sight of shinobi in the desert being replaced by Nomads seeking riches, really put a crimp on their plans. So, the two brothers decided to switch gears and go slow. They quickly spent their inheritance to buy up as much of Soon as the Merchant Guild would allow. Money from those businesses allowed them to buy as much of the desert as they could, seeking to gain full control over the oil wells. After seven years of spending, saving, and spending more; they finally made a good return. The Yotori Brothers now had a major control of the train companies by throttling a majority of the known oil wells.
Then as if on cue, a member of the Miroku clan showed up in their office with a plan to get them to the next step of their plan; five years ahead of schedule. She was a diminutive creature of all but 5’1 in height, shocked-white hair, and blood red eyes with floating green irises. They found the Miroku among the bodies of their highly trained guards, and was there to offer the twins a unique opportunity that presented itself in Sunagakure. She wanted the two Baron Brothers to know how they could gain the rest of the oil wells; by employing the nearly forgotten shinobi. In the wake of the 11th’s vanishing, and then the 12th’s, the once proud shinobi village was in a state of anarchy. Power plays were being made left and right, potential rivals being assassinated, and within the center of all the sown chaos was a single man: Chikamatsu Wei.
Retainer of the Chikamatsu clan in the absence of Shin - at least, according to the official documents they presented - placed them directly in line for a leadership. He seemingly appeared out of nowhere from the desert a week after the 12th's kidnapping, and with him were documents that backed his claims. It raised such a storm of vehement argues against his demands, but the documents he presented were not only old; they held the Oracles' offical stamp. It was also in a style of signature not used in ages, one that could only be known to the Oracles themselves. Wei's claim as the next Steward could not be refuted, though a handful of nobles and a single man tried to stand up to Wei; that single man being Sousuke himself. The name struck him as overly familiar, and theough he couldn't bring his suspicions to the floor at the moment, Sousuke tried to pull every string he had to keep the Chikamatsu out of power; there was something more than Wei was letting on. However, a council twisted to the whims of the Chikamatsu clan wished to continuing seeing their brethren in power, overrode the legendary hero’s objection. Wei's fast rise to power a week following the missions seeking out Shin’s location based on a weak description, a flame-wielding Nomad, blistered on by. It felt incredibly face-paced, especially since nothing came of those missions; not even clues.
The same day he was officially placed into power over the Sunan Military, an announcement was made. No longer would Sunagakure be the independent military it had been famous for. Too many falls in the line of duty and remaining reclusive despite the changing times had made the village weaker, and more vulnerable to the changing times. They would now be held to the whims of the Soon, specifically at the behest of the Yotori Brothers, who would give their military a purpose beyond defending themselves from the wilds of Wind. The following week, every able Sunan in the military was conscripted to fight against the Nomads, take their lands, and lock down their oil wells. It had been a slow going campaign as a great many of their more powerful vets lost their lives in the explosion of the Kazekage Tower.
Another explosion rocked the world outside the Nomad’s home. The chief groaned and gripped his temples harder at the oncoming headache that was starting to build up again. The king knew full well that his clansmen popping little lead rounds at the shinobi were doing little more than annoying them. What was keeping the god-like creatures from outright obliterating them was one of their own. A madman with long blond hair in a tattered old lab coat was their protector. A being of powers far beyond the imagination of the king who had been a friend to the old hag that grew Death Roses. While he was thankful for the mad being’s protection…he couldn’t help but hate how he did it.
“Whoo! Yeah! Come’on, is that all you guys got anymore? What are the Toraono teaching ya’ll?! Here, you do it like this!” The blond 8ft tall giant screaming down on the shinobi from his perch began to dance, spin and then grab his groin before thrusting out his hips. A clap of thunder followed as a lighting bold tore asunder the earth where a group of shinobi were trying to flank in for an ambush.
“Style! It’s all about style, baby! Whoo!”
The king wondered how long the war could possibly continue…
The words rang around the Uzumoreru’s head as he drew actual blades from beneath his shirt. His teeth were grit in a rage, his irises needle points from the insult. It was just a spar, something in the old assassin’s brain tried to remind him, but the damnable Uzumoreru Pride refused to take the slight. Toushin’s veins popped up from beneath his flesh, exposing themselves until a few burst out black blood that slithered from the wounds, up his arms, and towards the heart. They pierced it, before gripping his flesh with a secret ninjutsu that forced his adrenaline and remove limiters from his muscles. The sudden flex of tissue made his normally chubby form appear thin for a moment before the old man blinked across the room towards the insulting Kazekage. Oh, he would show Shin why he was special; he would make them beg to forget why.
As Toushin’s flickering image halted inches before Shin with a downward strike, the entire room suddenly became engulfed in flames. The instantaneous rise in heat made both seasoned combatants hop back away from each other, neither of them sure who had made the sudden attack or how; before realizing a moment too late they were no longer alone. Standing at the entrance to the room, wreathed in fire was a man standing 6’3’’ with long brown hair that lifted with the heated air currents. His face was covered in a small beard with a long braid tied down from his chin. Two solid red eyes with white irises looked at Uzu first, and then Shin, before grinning at the latter. He was dressed in little more than a leather skirt made from beast skin with a cow skull to gird his loins. Tribalism markings crisscrossed his flesh all painted in red, and the old assassin was the first to recognize one of the Wind Country’s native people; a Nomad. These were the people who marched away and back into the desert centuries ago after Primus threw down the last Ancient ruling the human race; left to find a way to restore the land - a goal they were still allegedly seeking.
The flame-wreathed Nomad lifted his hands. Shin was the first to act, crossing the office with such blistering speed Toushin fully realized just how much the Suna leader had been holding back. It made him wonder what the point of sharing such a large power gap between them could accomplish except shame him into submission; something he was incapable of doing. Yet all that speed amounted to nothing when fire erupted not on Shin themselves, but the small personal garden they kept within. It caused the Chikamatsu to freeze up for a split second, reeling from the sudden death of a living form that, to their clan, was just as important as humans were; perhaps even more. The split second of pause was all the attacker needed as he tossed something square and pink at the Kazekage. As it closed into Shin’s personal space, and chakra, it erupted into a large coffin-like box that absorbed the Sunagakurian leader within before returning to the size of a small cube once again - all within a matter of two seconds.
Toushin’s blade was already coming down after the first second.
Another roar of fire send the old assassin flying back and over the desk. His hand reached out to grab the teapot off the desk as he felt himself being forced against the window. It had been a lifetime since he had last been lit on fire, and the pain of burning entirely was one he had just as soon forget - for good reason - yet, even through that hellish inferno he was trapped in the assassin made a split second decision to lean his weight into the window. Uzu smashed right on through, a fireball in the grand sunlight outside of the tower. His fingers flipped through a few seals as he held onto the pot to fill it with chakra. Water exploded out from within, to cover the burning assassin and quell the flames moments before he cratered into the pavement below.
“L-legs…can’t…” he vomited a small pool of black blood. Ruptured organs, shattered spine, the left arm he used to catch his fall somewhat was a paste beneath him. Yet, despite the fall without any chakra cushion, Toushin was alive. Weakly, his right formed into a seal moments after his impact to make all the blood around him form itself into a ball that solidified into something stronger than steel. A circular section separated itself to present a wheel like formation that peeled out before taking off towards the Omni Prime. Three seconds later, and the entire tower was suddenly surrounded by both the ANBU and the Main Branch in an emergency order issued by the wounded Uzumoreru Toushin:
“Code Black: The Kazekage has been captured, the kidnapper is still in the Tower.”
Before they could take any further steps after arriving on scene, however, the air suddenly became drier than normal. A shinobi remarked how dry their lips had suddenly become, then another’s lips cracked and then split moments after. A handful of seasoned vets within the group understood what was happening and began to grab the necks of their fellow soldier before turning to hurl them away with all of their chakra-enhanced might. Of the fifty-seven soldiers that arrived on scene within seconds of the call to arms - ten survived. The grand metal tower that had seen the village into the caves below and rise back up to the sky above twisted inwards, warping the metal and structure before suddenly expanding outwards in a fiery explosion of steel, magma, flame, and flesh. The explosion took out the Kazekage Tower, everyone within, and probably would have taken a majority of the village were it not for the heroic efforts of another village legend.
Takahashi Sousuke was a man who always planned ahead for every scenario he could imagine. In the one of which the Kazekage Tower were to be used as the central focal point of an explosion aimed to take out Suna, the tower itself would be dropped deep beneath the dunes into the caverns below. Instead of an event that would have seen easily half of Suna reduced to dust, the Sunans were treated to a minor earthquake instead. Outside of the initial blast that took nearly a hundred solders, not another single injury was reported as the explosion over the empty cavern forced the flames and force downwards. Once again the most famed Steward of the Sunahoshi had saved the village from certain doom; and he wasn’t even on the scene.
===============================================================
Three Weeks Later
===============================================================
Three Weeks Later
===============================================================
Loud bangs of firearms being shot one after the other towards a row of sandbags rang out into the desert air. Behind the firing line was a large circular rock formation that surrounded a naturally large, dry, well where a major group of Nomads resided. It was known as The Devil’s Mouth for it’s original infamy of swallowing entire trading caravans whole after being covered by the sands following a dune storm. This phenomena due to earth chakra crystals that lined the entrance into the well that would cause sand that flowed into it to become caught in a magnet-like field. The surrounding cliff was raised by a Nomad long ago who sought to settled their people into the well as a permanent location when the majority of their clan became old. It was one of the only settlements in the entirety of the Wind Country that was entirely populated by nomads; 'twas also the only one trading. Perhaps it was the trading with others and settling down, that which only a handful of other clans have even attempted, was what lead to their current predicament. For beyond the sandbags they were constantly firing into, were Sunagakure Shinobi. God-like beings whom’s children could easily slaughter most of their kind.
The chief of the Nomads, Hasii, was a large framed man with an excessive belly. His arms were like living boulders of muscle and his legs were clearly unhindered by the weight brought about from the lavish lifestyle of a dormant Nomad King. His large dark hand was clasped against his brow, azure irises looking up at the clouds blocking his once perfect view of the desert sky. Clouds brought by explosions, death, and war. How had it come to this so quickly? Information was slow in the great desert. By the time the king had heard of the the last Kazekage’s disappearance, the shinobi had already been sieging his clan for two days. His attempts at parlay were met with grim returns. Suna was no longer independent.
Sunagakure worked for the Barons. How the hell did that happen?
It started with two brothers. Yotori Higan, and Yotori Lou. A pair of twins from the Fire Country who had received a rare business opportunity - quit living off their dead parents last remaining shreds of wealth and come work for their superiorly rich uncle on the desert; owner of the biggest train company in Wind. Neither of which either brother really wanted to do. Instead, they decided to move into the desert, bump off their uncle, and preform a hostile takeover to return those vast riches back to a country that had trees. Their plan…half-worked. Killing their relative was simple, but taking control of the company was not. Despite being made major shareholders with two other merchant lords in Wind, their uncle’s will stipulated that in the event of his death, and no named successor, that the company’s control would be turned over to the Four Oil Barons; Higan, Lou, Lady Ishii Mako, and the magnanimous Lord Ryūō.
For all their machinations and schemes, Higan and Lou could not over come the Daimyo or Ryūō. Aside from the insane amount of protection that those two rolled with at all times, the lacking sight of shinobi in the desert being replaced by Nomads seeking riches, really put a crimp on their plans. So, the two brothers decided to switch gears and go slow. They quickly spent their inheritance to buy up as much of Soon as the Merchant Guild would allow. Money from those businesses allowed them to buy as much of the desert as they could, seeking to gain full control over the oil wells. After seven years of spending, saving, and spending more; they finally made a good return. The Yotori Brothers now had a major control of the train companies by throttling a majority of the known oil wells.
Then as if on cue, a member of the Miroku clan showed up in their office with a plan to get them to the next step of their plan; five years ahead of schedule. She was a diminutive creature of all but 5’1 in height, shocked-white hair, and blood red eyes with floating green irises. They found the Miroku among the bodies of their highly trained guards, and was there to offer the twins a unique opportunity that presented itself in Sunagakure. She wanted the two Baron Brothers to know how they could gain the rest of the oil wells; by employing the nearly forgotten shinobi. In the wake of the 11th’s vanishing, and then the 12th’s, the once proud shinobi village was in a state of anarchy. Power plays were being made left and right, potential rivals being assassinated, and within the center of all the sown chaos was a single man: Chikamatsu Wei.
Retainer of the Chikamatsu clan in the absence of Shin - at least, according to the official documents they presented - placed them directly in line for a leadership. He seemingly appeared out of nowhere from the desert a week after the 12th's kidnapping, and with him were documents that backed his claims. It raised such a storm of vehement argues against his demands, but the documents he presented were not only old; they held the Oracles' offical stamp. It was also in a style of signature not used in ages, one that could only be known to the Oracles themselves. Wei's claim as the next Steward could not be refuted, though a handful of nobles and a single man tried to stand up to Wei; that single man being Sousuke himself. The name struck him as overly familiar, and theough he couldn't bring his suspicions to the floor at the moment, Sousuke tried to pull every string he had to keep the Chikamatsu out of power; there was something more than Wei was letting on. However, a council twisted to the whims of the Chikamatsu clan wished to continuing seeing their brethren in power, overrode the legendary hero’s objection. Wei's fast rise to power a week following the missions seeking out Shin’s location based on a weak description, a flame-wielding Nomad, blistered on by. It felt incredibly face-paced, especially since nothing came of those missions; not even clues.
The same day he was officially placed into power over the Sunan Military, an announcement was made. No longer would Sunagakure be the independent military it had been famous for. Too many falls in the line of duty and remaining reclusive despite the changing times had made the village weaker, and more vulnerable to the changing times. They would now be held to the whims of the Soon, specifically at the behest of the Yotori Brothers, who would give their military a purpose beyond defending themselves from the wilds of Wind. The following week, every able Sunan in the military was conscripted to fight against the Nomads, take their lands, and lock down their oil wells. It had been a slow going campaign as a great many of their more powerful vets lost their lives in the explosion of the Kazekage Tower.
Another explosion rocked the world outside the Nomad’s home. The chief groaned and gripped his temples harder at the oncoming headache that was starting to build up again. The king knew full well that his clansmen popping little lead rounds at the shinobi were doing little more than annoying them. What was keeping the god-like creatures from outright obliterating them was one of their own. A madman with long blond hair in a tattered old lab coat was their protector. A being of powers far beyond the imagination of the king who had been a friend to the old hag that grew Death Roses. While he was thankful for the mad being’s protection…he couldn’t help but hate how he did it.
“Whoo! Yeah! Come’on, is that all you guys got anymore? What are the Toraono teaching ya’ll?! Here, you do it like this!” The blond 8ft tall giant screaming down on the shinobi from his perch began to dance, spin and then grab his groin before thrusting out his hips. A clap of thunder followed as a lighting bold tore asunder the earth where a group of shinobi were trying to flank in for an ambush.
“Style! It’s all about style, baby! Whoo!”
The king wondered how long the war could possibly continue…