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Yokai Orochi Revived Vice Captain
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 Posted: Tue Mar 19, 2013 12:06 am
In Kemurigakure there was a white poplar tree. It stood alone facing the rising sun as its roots writhed serpentine beneath the dirt. A man stood on its branches, looking down at the proceedings and with a small accepting nod of his head leapt down to declare the fight over. A wish written in his own hand lies nestled amongst the papery leaves.
The careful breeze that blows over the branches stops, aware that for now it is no longer needed.
Faint fingers of light from the rising sun reached over the horizon, turning the indigo sky of night to the faint periwinkle blue of early morning as the songbirds in their nests began to stir and fill the forest with early morning song. The faint breeze that always twined its way through the trees stroked across the pale leaves of the canopy.
Below the earth Akira kept his words and said a brief but polite farewell to the Hokage, allowing him free reign within the village while he gathered his slumbering children and returned to the catacomb tunnels that housed his Brood.
Kuromaru too returned underground, not to sleep but to deal with Tsuru who had been confined to his lab for the remainder of the Exam.
High Priestess Naginata was relieved from her ill-advised time as Proctor and still laughing herself sick at the death she had just witnessed the Jashinist was laid back down to sacred rest alongside her acolytes.
As for the rest of the Genins, youth and adrenaline from the test kept them from sleep and at the suggestion of Giri most of them followed to Serenity for a cooked meal.
On the spot where the circle in the dirt had been drawn Sero waited, his ruby red eyes as hard as the gemstone with his anger as he observed the bloodstain where his loyal pawn had once stood.
Noting they are unobserved his father drifts to his side.
“Sero, Sero, Sero.” He says, shaking his head from side to side.
“I have displeased you Orochimaru-sama.” The clone says dully, kneeling and touching his forehead to the ground in a gesture of reverence, a trick his father had taught him to deflect some of Orochimaru’s wrath.
“You underestimate those you know to be dangerous. By your attitude you alienate potential allies.”
Sero’s eyes flash with anger for a moment but he bites back his protest, the look of subservience swiftly returning to his features. Still in the form of the Konoha Genin a smile twitches the corners of Orochimaru’s mouth.
He was truly Kabuto’s student, he can see the discipline that has gone into beating obedience into this boy.
“You misunderstand. I am not ordering you to make friends. I am ordering you to gain the trust of those that could harm you so you can better control and destroy them. Instead you overestimate your information and create an enemy of the most powerful sect of this place.”
“It will not happen again Orochimaru-Sama.” Sero says but Orochimaru can see the tiny grin come across the Uchiha’s face. He thinks he has gotten away with it.
The Sannin moves swiftly and plants his foot on the boy’s bent back, forcing his face into the dirt.
“No it will not.” The eerily long tongue flickers out of the Sannin’s mouth as he pushes down hard. Sero whimpers as his shoulder cracks audibly.
“From now on you will be training with me personally on Diplomacy in addition to your other training.”
Orochimaru leans down close to Sero’s ear.
“You brother does not require such extra help.” He hisses maliciously before leaving Sero in the dirt.
As soon as he is gone the younger Uchiha brother scrambles angrily to his feet and throws a hot glance at his remaining team mate. She was a better pawn at least, he had been foolish to think a mindless thing such as Rifuto could be counted on.
“Come on, We’re leaving this village.”
Though it was unintentional Taran finds himself swept along with the other genins who seem to be in high spirits if only in an attempt to forget the disturbing sight of the mechanical puppet taking apart another genin.
Even now if he dwells too much on the thoughts of what would have happened if he had not understood the puppet’s inner workings enough…The Suna Nin shudders and clings tightly to Yoru’s sleeve.
The Uchiha gives him a faintly amused look. Of course as an Otogakure raised child he was used to such sights.
Even those that did not pass the Exam, Ryuuga looking as cheerful as ever as Giri explains the disarming move to him, tag along.
The conspicuous absences from the group are Biwa and Sero’s team, otherwise everyone seems to be in high spirits as they approach the little inn.
As Giri continues to make friends wherever he goes Wana and his puppet discreetly slip behind the group.
“Karakuri…Why don’t you get started Converting our newest acquisition. I’ll be by shortly.” He whispers in the puppets ear and Karakuri nods, slipping away into the shadows to remove Rifuto’s body from himself.
Wana’s face relaxes into an easy grin that conceals his scheming mind as he slips into place in a booth and jovially places an order.
It was a good win and surprisingly easy. The Uchiha’s constant reliance on his dojutsu to ensure his pawns obedience had only made the mind weak to oracular genjutsu of which Karakuri was skilled.
Even the thought of Sero’s servant being stripped down and given a new life does not temper his sorrow when he thinks of Biwa or the burning hot coal of his hatred.
Already the gears in his mind are turning, plotting his eventual revenge against the brat who had hurt his Beloved…
Acting on instinct his eyes roam the room, taking in the sights and scanning them for potential valuable information. The general atmosphere is one of cheerful camaraderie and the spectacled Nin sees several things of interest; Nin from many village relaxing with each other in a way that would have been unthought-of before the Fourth Ninja war.
Keitiki giggles in a way that carries across the room as Murumasa tries to fulfil his promise to get her ice-cream only for her to immediately order the most expensive thing on the dessert menu.
His Kiri Nin companions laugh at his discomfort as Hagoromo comes to sit beside Ryuuga at Giri’s table and the Albino proudly explains some of his clan’s sword techniques to both of them.
Sazae is looking embarrassed as a roast rabbit with a sparkler stuck in it from her rival in love arrives at her table but the brat’s elder brother breaks the tension by pointing over the table with his chopstick and asking if he can get one.
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Wana turns as a small scraping sound of a chair being pulled back indicates he is being approached.
Taran, Sunagakure, Puppet Master, his memory lists. The one who deactivated his Karakuri.
Behind the round lenses of his glasses Wana keeps his face icy cold. The Suna Nin falter, a sure sign of nervousness and tries a smile.
“I-I just want that…” His sentence trails off into inaudibility as Wana’s cold look makes him even more nervous.
“Taran, just say it or we’ll be here all day.” Yoru calls out over the back of his chair before turning back to the table. “Hey, rabbit’s here!”
Taran’s ear turn a bright red from embarrassment.
“I just wanted to say I’m really sorry that I touched your puppet without permission. Even though it was a battle situation it was really rude of me and I’m sorry.”
“There you go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Yoru says with a mouthful of rabbit meat.
“Shut it Yoru!” Taran barks back as the Uchiha chuckles as turns back to eating.
Wana blinks his dark eyes and tries a little smile of his own.
“In a battle situation politeness must be secondary to victory but even so…Karakuri is special to me. He is human in more than just materials.”
“I know what you mean…” Taran says wistfully.
“I am surprised you did not come over to berate me for my technique.” Wana says carefully, taking a sip of his rich dark iced tea. He hasn’t ordered any food despite his hunger from the forest. Making puppets on a full stomach always made him nauseous.
“That techniques is Sasori of the Red Sand’s right? We still use puppetry techniques based on his work.”
“Well, based on his techniques anyway. Hideki-Sensei developed most of the devices…”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees his illusive sensei step into the room and Wana smiles.
“If you have any queries you could always ask him yourself.”
Ignoring the others Hideki walks straight up to Wana’s table. His metallic claw of an arm gleams menacingly in the dawn light, its razor sharp claws of fingers curling inwards.
‘Wana.’ He signs, turning his head to look down on the Suna Nin who swiftly makes an inaudible excuse and goes to sit back down with Yoru. ‘We must talk.’
‘Yes Sensei.’ Wana signs in return, knowing that few were fluent in Hideki’s specific sign language and that he would not want his words to be identified.
‘There is a month before the final battle you must face, time that will need to spent wisely.’
‘I already have a Conversion in process.’ Wana signs swiftly. ‘Following that I am already formulating action plans against all potential opponents.’
‘Including the young god?’
‘Including Giri.’
Hideki’s blind eyes are icy cold.
‘You will cease that plan immediately.’
Wana makes a small sound of protest which draws .
‘He has greater favour of the divine then you do. He is the son of gods. He is the strongest. If you meet him in battle you will surrender. Such a battle will be pointless.’
‘Sensei you said I was the strongest!’ Wana protests, using sharper gestures to show his sense of betrayal. He had always been Hideki’s favourite student.
‘Your opinion doesn’t matter.’ Hideki signs bluntly. ‘All that matters is who will be king.’
Wana looks down, the logic of the words undeniable. There was more at stake than his personal pride here but no matter what he had his own goals in this tournament.
‘Hebiken Sero…May I have him.’
‘He has great favour of the divine than you. His Kleos is stronger’
‘I know!’ Wana signs angrily. ‘He hurt Biwa. I want to make him hurt!’
Hideki blinks and turns to leave.
‘Acceptable…Though the Bard’s will get their revenge before you. You have one month, go, tend to your Resurrection.
“I will.” Wana says out loud.
Irritably Sero kicks at a straggly patch of grass growing by the roadside. He’s looking forwards to finally getting out of this annoying place and getting back to real training but inside his blood boils.
How dare his father say Yoru was stronger?! Yoru had abandoned Otogakure to go off playing in Suna and his father wanted him to act like that?
It went against everything Kabuto had ever taught him. Enemies strengthened you, allies weakened. None of them were deserving of anything like his trust.
In his irritation Sero doesn’t realize that despite it being some hours since the sun first started to rise his path hasn’t gotten any lighter.
It isn’t until he sees a flicker of movement on the path that he turns around and realizes he’s being followed.
A faint twanging of strings echoes on the breeze and for one fear filled moment Sero realizes that on his sulky walk back to Otogakure he is completely alone.
His eyes flash red, skipping straight through to the dark shape of the Mangekyou Sharingan but even with his enhanced vision all he can see are smudges of shadow on the horizon.
“Show yourselves!” He screams, his voice echoing emptily on the air and the gleams of white teeth show in the shadows as the unseen figures grin.
“Here’s a little song I’d like to dedicate to the one that hurt our baby brother.” The words carry far over the empty path and Sero shoves his hands over his ears and starts to run.
With a long eerie wailing like the death-cry of a cat the sound of a bow being scraped across strings shrieks across the empty path and the Bards begin to play a raucous violent sound with a heavy drumbeat.
Sero runs as laughter intermingles with the sounds of beating drums and he presses his hands closer over his ears in a futile attempt to deaden the sound.
The music only swells as the Bard’s press in on him on all sides, playing their instruments while they run to catch up to him, their eyes covered by bandages that do not hide their wide smiles.
“Leave me alone!” Sero cries as he runs and his cry is repeated back in a mocking chorus.
The Uchiha puts his head down and concentrates on moving as swiftly as possibly.
‘I can do this…’ Sero thinks to himself as the music starts to fade away behind him. ‘I am better than they are, I can defeat them. I will win this. I will win this because I am Sero and Sero is the superior one. I am the one that deserves father’s love, not Yoru.’
The Uchiha begins unconsciously to fall into a rhythm as he runs, his body adjusting its movements to the music. The beating of a Taiko Drum mimics the beating of his heart.
‘I can do this. I am the best. They should all be afraid of me!’
Sero pauses to catch his breath, the only sound of the terrible tune remaining is the solid beat of the drum that ran under everything. He has run far, far from the boundary of Kemurigakure and still that sound followed him.
His blood red eyes swept over the hilltops in search of the one playing it but the dawn air is still and empty apart from the never ending sound of the drums…
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Posted: Wed Jun 05, 2013 11:28 pm
In Kemurigakure there was a White Poplar tree. As the chilled air blew the trees the emerald leaves began to fade to brown at the crinkling edges as their nutrients were reclaimed for the winter ahead. A few papery leaves began to drop in earnest. Soon the branches with the diamond-like markings would be complexly bare of everything but the silvery bells and their paper wishes.
It is solidly the start of autumn now, bright veins of red and orange streaking through the green heart of the forest. The sweet scent of Lotus flower had started to fade from the air as the waxy petals shrivelled and died.
Hiroshi sighed as he looked over the forest from the peak of the red rocky mountain. The autumnal colours made it look as if the forest was on fire…
The draconian man picks at his teeth with a sharp claw-like fingernail as his tail lashes from side to side in discontent. He turns his problems over and over again in his mind.
Biwa still hadn’t recovered.
Hiroshi bites through the nail.
Karura was taking good care of him, the golden-haired girl’s cottage was both homey and well-defended, but even with such a peaceful environment it was clear that Biwa’s mind had been shattered. There was nothing that could be done but wait to see if the young bard managed to recapture his muse. Despite his instinctual distrust of Hideki’s students he feels that the presence of that blonde haired kid, Wana, is helping somewhat. Certainly having someone there with him helped.
From his perch high on a peak of craggy stone Hiroshi blinks milky white second eyelids as he once again looks over the forest below.
In preparation for their final exam both his remaining students had been training hard in their respective fields; Sazae no longer bothered to hide the marks of scale and shell on her arms after spending the month in the underground tunnels of the Broodlings. He hadn’t seen or heard of Keitiki since the last battle which was probably a reassuring sign.
Scratching at the area of tender exposed skin around the nubs of horn protruding from his hair Hiroshi gathers himself up and stands.
Time was up. The final battle was just ahead and he couldn’t delay any longer. The invitations had been sent out for months, inviting dignitaries from far and wide to attend the final demonstration of shinobi skill.
Just a shadow among darker shadows Hiroshi flickers off to where the opening ceremony was about to start.
For the spot of land Kemurigakure occupied, the forest so small it seldom appeared on any map, a full above ground stadium was entirely out of the question. It would draw unwanted attention, take a long time to build and inevitably intrude on the lands of the two neighbouring countries Kemuri felt fortunate to be on good terms with.
In the twisting underground passageways stood Kemurigakure’s one and only sports arena. It was sunken into the flat ground, carved straight into the igneous bedrock of the village. Tiers of seats thoughtfully padded with cloth of different colours extended downwards arranged around the pit in the centre with its floor of fine white sand. A smile twitches Hiroshi’s lips as he steps down onto the first row of carved steps. The Chunin Exams had never been held here before but this arena had worn out the centuries as a playing field before being elevated to such status. He recalled playing Wallball here as child; that game that combined the skills of a ninja with the principles of a team sport and as such was great preparation for less… civilized forms of combat. As it was even the vast open mouth of the arena looked changed, crammed full of far more people than usually sat there. Though the arena was completely equal all the way round some brightly colored awnings, more for the look than protection from the non-existent sun, had been erected for the Daimyos and other important and wealthy visitors who wanted to know they were getting the best seat in the house for the occasion. A carved box of cherry wood shows where Akira is once again playing village leader.
Hiroshi raises a clawed hand in a brief gesture of salute to the box and sees an answering flicker of movement.
As he takes his seat he sees the gesture and its reply mirrored by other Kemuri Nin taking their seats.
The draconian man breathes in deeply, bracing himself as someone sits in the seat next to him. Aware of what’s at stake here he smiles as if he’s at ease as a light and attention is suddenly focused on him and the man beside him.
He’d even bought bodyguards.
In his thick orange coat he’s sweating from supressed panic as he stands, aware there are many eyes on him waiting for his next words.
“Honoured guests as joint proctor I am pleased to announce the start of the final portion of the chunin exams...”
Hideki’s blind eyes seem to be drilling into the back of his head as Hiroshi starts to speak.
The words of the Opening Ceremony, a bone dry speech written by diplomats and not the man now reciting it, are muffled by the distance as they echo down to the depressions in the stone where the remaining students are waiting for the announcement of the final test’s beginning.
The floor of gritty white sand, in place to soak up blood as the Kemuri Genins know, extends into each hollow cavern.
In the gloom two yellow eyes gleam like stars as Orochimaru leans predatorily over his middle son.
“You won’t make the same mistake again will you?” The Sannin whispers close to one pale ear.
Sero swallows, the ashen shade his normally fair skin has gone disguised by the shadows. His father’s lessons haven’t left bruises where they showed but the Sannin had thoroughly beaten into him the mistakes he had made.
It wasn’t his cruelty that his father had made such an objection to but the situation in which had been applied; he had turned potential allies into enemies for minimum gain. That was a poor way to rule and after his father’s training had left him black and blue Kabuto drove the lesson home with his own specific methods. The only one Sero feared more than his father’s disapproval was the disapproval of his silver-haired medic. The gleam of light off round lenses…
He had nightmares about Kabuto’s disapproval. Recently they’d overlapped the nightmares he had about Kemurigakure until to his deep shame he’d spent the last week stealing Sleeping Pills to get some rest from the pounding sound in his head.
The noise of drums hadn’t ceased, even in sleep. As his heart beat faster the relentless beating of the drum grew louder; now it drowned out the words of the speech and nearly deadened his father’s soft words.
“No my lord.” He says with a dry throat.
In the dark behind him Orochimaru smirks.
“Don’t worry, I’ve arranged a special surprise for the first battle.”
Quite a substantial bribe had to be made to ensure the tournament brackets fell the way he desired but it would be worth it to see how well his future vessels were developing. Sero’s name is called and Orochimaru shoves his ‘son’ roughly into the light.
A trace of nervous sweat beading around the part Uchiha’s neck Sero puts on a mask of a confident manner. Failing now was not an option, not while he had his father’s trust.
Yoru had not slept well either.
He had trained vigorously for this contest, both with Kimimaro and in Sunagakure but though he could feel his body getting stronger he still worried about Taran. The young puppet master had grown colder after Arashi’s death and begun leaving not so subtle hints that he blamed Yoru for it, at least in part. Most nights Yoru didn’t blame him, if he hadn’t been there Sero wouldn’t have specifically targeted them, but there were times when Yoru woke up alone in the dark and wondered if it would be better for him to return to Otogakure.
Now in the artificial lights of the stadium the older brother is as nervous as the younger.
One of his friends had already been killed, the proper time of mourning lost in the preparations and Kemurigakure’s seemingly endless festivities.
Now when he woke up in a cold sweat from his nightmares it was Taran’s body he’d seen, laid still against the forest’s mossy floor with oozing wounds cut into his skin.
His brother’s hateful bile had made him afraid…
Two deaths would be too much for him to take and he had no-one to talk to about it besides Kimimaro. The Kaguya’s advice was enigmatic as always, stressing both following his heart and following Orochimaru’s will as if the two things were the same. In the dark of the stone hollow Yoru slipped his hand into Taran’s and gave it a squeeze.
The puppet master pauses for a moment before returning the pressure.
Today was a day when you needed someone beside you.
Lamp-like eyes gleaming in the gloom Seito easily pierces the darkness around them to look at the other contestants. To his mechanical eyes the shadows might as well not be there at all for all the concealment they offer. Carefully the Mechanical Doll examines the two Suna Genins before turning his head to Karakuri, the elder doll looking nearly perfectly human.
Tentatively he reaches out his own hand and grips that of his sempai.
Karakuri’s head turns sharply towards him and Seito swiftly lets go. Right, that is showing a lack of decorum for the situation.
Standing back up and trying to put a suitable expression on his face Seito takes a proper guarding stance behind his master. The bespectacled puppeteer ignores the newest doll’s attempts at flirting. Seito had made his intentions towards his sempai entirely transparent from Day One but the Mechanical Doll’s attempts at seducing Karakuri hadn’t influenced the doll’s original purpose.
In the dark Wana makes the most menacing figure, round glasses reflecting light to hide his expression. His thin body bent forward a fraction. Very soon he would have his opportunity to get even with the one who hurt Biwa. The revenge of the Bard’s would be nothing compared to the carefully measured out agonies a Medic could inflict…
Similar thoughts were tracing their dark way through Sazae’s mind. She was glad of the darkness around her that hid the latest changes to her form since she last shed. Her grandfather, acting as impartially as he could, had given her full support in her training. Grandmother Yuurei in particular had been most helpful.
Sazae’s mother had been a woman of bizarre tastes to pick a husband from the twisted nest of part serpent, part scorpion hybrids and their first child had inherited the twist in genetics that allowed the most unlikely of hybrids.
From her mother Sazae got her tenacious nature and gorgeous hair. From her father she got scales, armour and a poison potent enough to kill a man.
She’d come to terms with the fact that the elegant and talented Gagaku Biwa was taken but such blatant abuse of a Kemuri Nin could not be stood for.
Sero was a marked man and it was time he suffered.
An eye for an eye. That was the Kemuri way.
Keitiki was not there. She knew she could wait her turn.
Glad to finally get the words of welcome and greetings out of the way Hiroshi sits, praying his performance had been satisfactory as he directs a nervous glance to where Akira was sitting.
Shadowed by the colourful cloth awning the scorpion man nods a small fraction.
Smoothly ignoring the man at his side Hideki stands and instantly becomes the focus of attention. A mask of bandages covers his mouth and silently he gestures to the arena floor, drawing the contestants out from the shadows.
Once again back in disguise Orochimaru takes his place among the other watching teachers. The rules are familiar to him; a tournament of battles with each victor moving on to the next bracket, teachers being allowed to step in if their student was obviously defeated, those to become Chunin being voted in by their superiors.
Unlike most of these pathetic battle the Sannin was looking forward to seeing this tournament played out in full.
Still as silent as the grave Hideki directs his attendants with twitches of his fingers to set up a screen displaying the preliminary battle brackets to the audience.
Sero versus Sazae, Wana versus Keitiki, Giri progressing straight to the next match and in the first battle set the names of Taran and Yoru.
In a loud clear voice the younger of Hideki’s assistants announces the first match.
“Contestants please step forwards.”
A brief flash of panic crosses Yoru’s face and in the stands his father grins. It was time the loyalty of his vessel was put to the test. Even though he himself had ordered that his future bodies learn to fit in as much as possible he had no desire what so ever to lose one to another village. It was time to see how far the loyalty of Kimimaro’s boy went...
The half Uchiha faces the Sunagakure puppet master on the white sand field, so like the familiar training grounds back in Suna. Already the eyes of the audience are focused on them as the two step forwards.
Yoru tries to meet Taran’s gaze but the Suna Genin is already focusing on the ground by his feet to avoid having to meet a genjutsu laden gaze.
As the rules of the match are repeated to them both the half Uchiha finds his eye drawn to the large screen the tournament brackets have been printed on. His brother was to be fighting a Kemuri Nin who would no doubt be out for blood and if, or more likely when he won…
“Do you agree to these terms?”
Both nod.
“Taran…” Yoru starts to say but the announcer’s hand falls and the first match is begun.
Swiftly the puppet master falls back, creating distance between himself and his opponent as he forms the summoning seals.
Deliberately Yoru raises one hand in the air and smiles. Well if that was his father’s design…
“I, Hebiken Yoru, forfeit this match"
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Yokai Orochi Revived Vice Captain
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Yokai Orochi Revived Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Jul 24, 2013 8:09 pm
In Kemurigakure there was a White Poplar tree. Bells chimed on the slender branches stirred by the breeze, sounding a tiny chord before they fall still. The paper tags with their neatly written wishes flutter in the breeze as another leaf falls. The papery white underside shows at it tumbles gracefully downwards, falling at the base of the tree trunk among other decaying leaves, nearly indistinguishable from the fallen paper wishes.
Like a rustling leaves a susurrus of whispers runs through the crowd as Yoru defiantly stares up at the watchers with ebony black eyes. As he turns on his heel and walks away Taran looks up at him with surprise evident on the Sunagakure Puppeteer’s face.
“If Sero wins this next match you’re going to have to fight him.” Yoru says in barely a whisper. From the stands above even reading his lips would be near impossible. “That is how much confidence I have in you.”
As the whispers of discontent start to grow in volume Yoru climbs the carved stairway, past citizens and dignitaries both who turn to look at him, and steps from the sunken basin of the carved arena with his back to the field of battle.
The angry eyes of watchers robbed of the spectacle of teammate fighting teammate turn away as he steps into the cool unmarked cavern beyond.
The bright orbs of light that had lit the arena as brightly as noonday are absent here. Instead the cavern roof is pitch black but speckled with the tiny lights of glow worms. If he stood facing away from the stadium and looked up it was like being under a clear night sky…
Now he knows he is far enough away to not be carelessly overheard Yoru slumps to his knees without turning around and presses his forehead to the cool stone in a gesture of supplication.
“My lord.” He says to the blank air as he waits.
Behind him Orochimaru grins, pleasantly surprised by his reaction. His chakra was cloaked to conceal his true strength from other shinobi and, though he shed the concealment now, his middle child had always waited until he picked up his ‘father’s’ chakra before attempting gestures of supplication.
Even then he had only ever bowed politely, as Kabuto had, whereas his eldest son immediately picked up on his mood and shown full respect due to his status.
“I am displeased Yoru.” The Sannin softly, knowing his eldest son was so well drilled in loyalty he needed no persuasion to tell the truth.
Yoru presses his forehead harder against the warm stone.
“I am sorry I have disappointed you Orochimaru-sama but I could not fight that match.”
He doesn’t hear any movement or sense even a flicker of chakra but the next thing the part Uchiha knows he is being dragged to his feet in a rejection of his gesture of humility.
Orochimaru’s eyes are glaring directly into his and sheer killing intent freezes Yoru’s body with fear. It was like being in the coils of some giant python.
“Because you care about him? Is he really worth more than your duty? More than your life?!” Orochimaru hisses, words full of chill venom.
There is not a hint of red in Yoru’s eyes as he looks up at the god he had been told was his father. Even with fear freezing his movements the words of obedience his caretaker had driven into him come easily to mind.
“If you wish to punish me for my actions I will wilfully submit for disobeying your will.” He clenches his fists, fingers trembling with the supressed emotions he struggles to keep from his voice.
“But never have I betrayed you. My reasons for my actions are threefold; firstly this is not yet time for the deciding conflict and nothing will be gained in a battle against Sero in which I am forced to hold back to prevent damage to a potential future vessel, limiting both our abilities. Secondly this location is not secure, I have it on good authority that Taran has developed techniques to counter the Sharingan and battling him would force me to reveal techniques I have developed in Otogakure to other villages. I prioritize the safety of Otogakure’s secrets over any personal desire of mine to fight Sero. Finally at this current moment in time you serve to gain more by me retaining the trust of the Kazekage. By not fighting this battle I preserve my position as an information gatherer…and at the same time have an excuse to wander free in Kemurigakure for the remainder of the exams.”
Yoru finishes all at once and gasps for breath as he stares at the ground. The words had poured from him with more force than he intended, desperate to convince Orochimaru his loyalty had not wavered.
The light of anger seems to fade from Orochimaru’s eyes and his angular mouth twitches in a wry grin. Rather than the blow Yoru had been expecting pale fingers rest against his cheek and gently stroke downwards.
“I have such a clever son.” The Sannin says with a genuine smile and Yoru stands frozen in shock.
Carefully Orochimaru rests his hand on Yoru’s shoulders and leans in close enough for the boy to realize that his next words are meant for him alone.
“I am proud of you.” He says softly and his son dares to look up to find serpentine eyes looking genuinely pleased.
“You are right, I deliberately put you into a difficult situation to see how you’d react. You saw that I was setting you up and removed yourself from the situation. No, I’m not angry that your sight is that keen.”
The Sannin’s fingers run through Yoru’s dark curls. It was a strange quirk of the Kekkai Genkai genes that had led to the Kaguya gene for silver-white hair to become incompletely dominant with the Uchiha gene for dark hair. The gesture is more possessive than comforting.
“Nevertheless…I still feel I have been robbed of a demonstration of your true talents. Spar with me.”
Yoru nods curtly, trying to hide his relief that Taran will be safe from Orochimaru’s anger. The expected blow collides heavily with his cheek, sending the Uchiha tumbling backwards.
The battle is entirely one-sided, even with two Kekkai Genkai on his side Yoru can barely shelter himself. Blow after blow manages to get past his defences. Even though victory is impossible he fights back as hard as he can.
Orochimaru grins, killing intent surrounding him like a second skin and drives forwards. His eldest son looks like he has just come out of a heated battle. Blood and bruising color Yoru’s pale skin and one hand is held close to his chest; two of his fingers have been broken to prevent him weaving signs.
Still the Uchiha’s scarlet eyes show a dull determination. This is his punishment for disobedience, Yoru knows it and accepts the pain of the beating…yet…it is also his reward for doing well. In battle his father was like some glorious God of War; it was his honour to be able to witness the sight and live.
He bleeds but he smiles.
__________________________________________________________________________
Sero clenches his fist as the mutated leader of Kemurigakure tries to appeal for calm among the disquiet in the arena.
How dare his brother do this to him! That smug look on his face as he had left the arena, he had deliberately refused to fight him!
The younger Uchiha brother clenches his teeth in the darkness and throws a gleaming crimson glare over to the Sunagakure Puppeteer standing dazed in the centre of the sandy floor.
His brother’s precious little boytoy…No doubt he feels so proud of himself for letting the Suna Nin win this one.
Idly Sero toys with one of his hidden weapons; a curved bladed kunai given to him by Kabuto. How tempting it was to see if he could fulfil his promise in the forest but he had already failed once.
He couldn’t give his father reason to punish him again, regardless of how much he wanted to make his brother suffer for disrespecting him he couldn’t risk causing more trouble during this exam.
Now he has a new target for Kabuto’s present. The blade of the kunai had been poisoned, nothing fatal of course, but enough to cause a weakening of the body for a few weeks. It would be easy enough to mistake for an unpleasant spell of the flu.
He had plans; incapacitate Yoru with the blade and he would be able to go ahead unopposed with no-one the wiser. The only medic Orochimaru could trust with examining one of his future bodies was Kabuto himself.
Sero lets his face fall into an amiable blank, waiting and counting out the seconds. The proctor for the exam, a man almost as reptilian as his father, is descending to the white sands and leading the Suna Nin off but no one is taking any real notice of it.
“Attention!” The Kemurigakure leader says, voice muffled behind the bandages that cover his mouth. Sero wonders exactly what they were put in place to conceal. “The next match of Shizuka Keitiki and Hebiken Sero will now commence.”
Sero steps into the light and feels the attention on him, every eye turning to watch his slow confident walk into the centre of the pale sands.
He can hear the whispered rumour quite clearly; civilians were never as subtle as they thought they were.
The other one they called him, as if he could never be anything but a footnote to his brother.
He would show them.
The sands crunch under his feet as he walks into plain view, body perfectly adjusted to show exactly the right amount of confidence. As he left the shadows he shed his true emotions and left them behind him.
Reaching the centre of the arena he pauses for a moment and then throws back his head and glares frankly up into the audience.
“Well?”
Two oval lenses of dark glass hide the expression of the Kemuri Nin from sight as he looks down at the arena.
“I-If both contestants are ready then…” He stammers, a slip of white paper held in one metallic claw.
Sero turns his gaze on the bare sand around him. There is nothing but bare sand all around him, dull and devoid of interest. The small dunes even eliminate footprints from sight.
The b***h is really bringing it then.
“Three…two…one. Match start!”
Swiftly Sero brings his Sharingan to bear, flickering straight to the Mangekyou in an attempt to break whatever illusion is shielding his opponent from sight.
Light flares in his vision from the stands, the chakra of the watching ninja a nearly blinding multi-coloured glow that makes him swiftly turn away.
The arena is devoid even of the faintest glow of chakra apart from that playing around his own fingers.
Sero strains his eyesight harder, trying to pick up the faintest trace of difference in the arena.
He shifts his footing slightly and sand crunches for a few fleeting moments.
A fist slams into the side of his head and he feels a weight on his back. Sero’s hand goes to the curved kunai at his waist as he feels fingers on the side of his head, thumbs appear in his vision as his opponent’s hands hook around.
She was trying to crush his eyes!
Sero slams his back against the sands to try and dislodge the Kemuri Nin and feels a solid body hit the sand in a spray of dirt.
He twists around, trying to stab out with the kunai and hears rapid footsteps crunch on the sands. Red eyes roll in their sockets as he struggles to penetrate the illusion every instinct in him insists is there.
Spitting sand he lashes out blindly and feels cloth brush against his fingertips. He tosses a kunai after it and the blade thuds into empty sand.
Sand crunches underfoot and he turns, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Recklessly he lashes out around him and hits something. He hears a soft whimper of pain and grins.
Touché.
The half Uchiha slides back on the sands and swiftly starts to form hand seals. The fallen kunai lifts itself from the sands and hurls itself towards him.
Spotting the gleam of the blade from the corner of his eye Sero catches the kunai mid-air. A sudden pressure on the handle of the blade jolts it out of his grip and into his hand.
The sly b***h had kicked it!
Sero bites his lip as drops of bright red blood ooze onto the sand and despite the pain in his fingers smiles and plunges his palms onto the sand.
Dark lines streak across the sand and crisscross across each other to form the distinctive shape of a summoning seal.
For a heartbeat the arena is completely silent then the sands explode upwards as a forest of blades jab upwards over the entire arena.
Blades from every era and of every design stab towards the sky in a forest of pointed metal. Immediately Sero’s vision is hidden by the weapons rising up around him but suddenly where the arena had been empty of any chakra signatures there was a bright flare of light in his sharingan enhanced vision.
A scream tears the air. Dribbles of red are running down some of the blades.
Sero releases the summoning before the blades can penetrate deeply enough to kill and the bloody body suddenly becomes visible, dropping to the sands.
He had been working on the summoning jutsu for a long time as a fill-in for one of the bone techniques; Sawarabi no Mai.
The test had been successful; his opponent’s unique jutsu unravelled with the power of his eyes. Even before the Sharingan his opponent had managed to remain unseen but merely that; she had not left this dimension or the regular plains of battle in anyway and an unseen opponent could still be struck and wounded.
Once the blades had struck concentration had broken and so had the jutsu and he had withdrawn his own attack in time to prevent a fatality. Large red blade marks spread across the delicate violet fabric of Keitiki’s dress from where the summoned swords had wounded her.
“Shizuka Keitiki is unable to battle; match victory goes to Hebiken Sero.” The proctor announces.
Sero takes a step towards his fallen opponent; noticing the many deep gashes across her body will require medical attention and politely does what his father suggested of him and bows.
Across the arena is the sound of a few Nin applauding the action and it isn’t long before the guests join in on principle. Sero smiles a faint smile. It was a clean win by anyone’s standards.
The oval lenses of black glasses track the half-Uchiha’s movements across the sands as he casually strides off and medics swiftly carry Keitiki to a place where her wounds can be safely healed.
Behind the glasses Akira’s eyes are hard and unforgiving but he applauds politely along with the other dignitaries.
“Well then, let the next match commence…Will the final pair please step forwards?”
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Posted: Mon Oct 07, 2013 8:13 pm
In Kemurigakure there was a white poplar tree. It’s glossy green leaves devoid of life, sucked dry by the chilly air lie discarded like shed cicada shells of crumpled paper. Bare branches reach upwards, lines of black ink against the snow-white sky or black skeletal fingers clawing upwards to try and snare the pale eye of the indifferent sun. Leaves gone the branches were clustered with white paper to protect against the cold. The dark words lay against the pale bark, a thousand silent prayers, and the bells sounded. Even in the heart of winter there would always be bells.
Shadows clung close to her pale skin like the waterfall of dark hair running down her back but her eyes were bright in the darkness.
Her mother had been a woman of unusual tastes, something that had persuaded her to take a tall male Broodling child as her husband. Her father looked largely human or at least no more animal than the men of the other primary ninja clans, bred for talent.
In was in her that the signs had manifested; the mutations running across her skin like a disease. Her left arm had light flexible armor of caramel brown. The right arm bore pale serpentine scales. That wasn’t all Sazae had inherited from her primal ancestry. She could see in the dark very well and even faintly see the pale glow of Senjutsu chakra that flowed in all living things if she focused.
Her grandparents were things from the pages of a horror story. Before she had been ashamed of that, as if her lack of humanity might fade away if she refused it but now she realized that had been a foolish thought. Her family were her family, just as tender and loving as that of a normal humans.
She’d never really loved Biwa, she had devoted herself to the Bard because he was handsome and talented and Keitiki was annoying her with how much she professed to love him. She’d never fallen in love with him but that did nothing to diminish the hatred that boiled inside of her.
Biwa was above all her friend and he had been treated in a way no human being should ever be treated. Generations’ worth of hatred for people like Sero flowed through her veins. Her father’s people had been twisted and torn apart by people with the same smug smirk as he did and some deep primal part of her knew that and hated it.
It was the vow of the Broodlings; with what we have been given we will not be made helpless again.
For that end she’d fight Wana with deadly resolve. Her opponent too reminded her of her inherited hatred. He was one of Hideki’s students, long and lanky of limb with a smile that never seemed sincere and never reached the cold eyes framed by his glasses. She owed it to her Sensei to succeed now; Hiroshi who had specifically chosen her to teach despite her average grades, Hiroshi who had known about her parentage from day one and never mentioned it, Hiroshi who had the scars to prove that a girl could fight as well as a boy.
A loss here could not be forgiven.
Wana breathes in deeply, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth, to calm himself. Compared to the other genins here he was weak; his strength lay in manipulating the strength of others.
It was the Achilles Heel of puppeteers; they were at the heart long range fighters. Any close combat moves he knew were to defend himself for long enough to retreat. In a direct confrontation he would be destroyed.
With a soft click of ticking gears his puppets move to his sides, flawlessly taking formation. In the gloom their white eyes glowed brightly. They were more than his tools, they were his friends. He would guide them and in return they would protect him.
With a twitch of his fingers he gestured for Seito to remain in the shadows and stepped into the light with only Karakuri at his side. The mechanisms of Seito had been designed for the specific purpose of fighting Sero; he couldn’t expose the puppet’s mechanisms to the sharingan before the battle began.
Karakuri had been his companion ever since he was a child, his closest friend for many years and Wana trusted him with his life. If he couldn’t trust Karakuri he couldn’t trust anyone.
Wana’s heels drag in the dirt as he steps forwards into the ring and his opponent proudly strides into the light.
Sazae’s dark hair billows loose around her shoulders, not quite covering the fine layers of scale over her face. She strikes the storybook figure of the vengeful ghost maiden.
The puppeteer stands tall in the face of his opponent. On the surface this would be a contest of skill but to them it was a contest of loyalty. There was no face-saving way to lose; the one who won would be the one who desired revenge against Sero the most.
The caramel carapace that coated Sazae’s forearms begins to flow and grow further, forming a tough twisted shell from which large spines protrude.
Karakuri blinks, the covering of his eyes sliding away to reveal the bright lights set in their sockets.
In the seats above Akira raises an arm.
“Let the match begin.”
Sazae looks away from the mechanical puppet to fix the puppet master with a virulent gaze. Her eyes are cold and hard with killing intent.
Wana meets her gaze calmly, knowing that to flinch away at this point would be fatal proof of weakness.
“You will lose here.” He says in the same way as his sensei, as if it had already happened and he was just stating a cool simple fact.
Behind the large round lenses of his glasses Wana’s eyes are just as cold as Sazae’s.
“I will avenge Biwa.” He says, taking a step to the side. “You don’t understand how I feel. Step aside before I am forced to hurt you.”
“You don’t understand how I feel either...” Sazae says softly and lunges forwards.
Wana flinches back but his puppet has been carefully watching Sazae, waiting for this moment. The chest cavity unfolds into many sharp blades but the strength of Karakuri was in surprise and Sazae manages to leap out of the way of the reaching claws.
A hard caramel brown claw opens wide with sharp serrations on the inside and slashes at the Doll.
Karakuri clicks his head to the side, bright lights of eyes glowing a clear white. He moves back a fraction and the claw nearly grazes his skin as it passes close to him.
The metal flickers out once again, the metallic ribs unfolding into large spiderlike limbs.
Karakuri’s eyes are wide and already beginning to flash with their hypnotic pattern.
Sazae swiftly looks away, focusing on the puppets feet to try and predict his movements. The red hollow cavity inside its chest draws the eye, metal is woven into the meat and protrudes into the base of the sharp claws the puppet is now using as limbs.
Brown shell grows and flows over her arms and the metal claws scrape over it
Karakuri tries to force his face in front of hers in an attempt to force her to look into his flashing eyes and she forces him back.
Jaws slack and eyes twin spots of glow it is hard to believe she had ever mistaken him for human but that was the skill of the Revived One.
Now as she leaps backwards, bloody claws holding him up from the white sands Karakuri makes a screeching noise deep in the back of his throat.
Behind him his puppet master waits patiently without a sign of emotion on his face.
Sazae grits her teeth and leaps forwards with claw outstretched.
Karakuri moves backwards like a spider, front claws already striking out.
A spray of sand is raised in the spot where the two meet but Karakuri is moving back before the sands clear to reveal the hole dug into the dunes.
Claws extending with the speed of a snake strike Karakuri reaches out towards Wana who waits still on the sands.
The ground underneath the puppet breaks, sinking his claws into the underground tunnel and the sand boils around Wana’s feet as Sazae leaps from it.
Sand cascades from her still growing shell as it twists itself further into long thin spines dripping potent venom.
Wana’s footing disappears underneath him as the denser packed layers of sand he had been standing have been scooped out by Sazae’s rapid digging.
He falls towards the Broodling who thrusts out a spine covered claw towards him. Still nothing registers on his face as he swiftly reaches forwards and grabs Sazae’s hand between the spines.
He twists his grip, causing the blow to miss and send Sazae sprawling.
Her spines tear Wana’s shirt as he falls, nearly breaking the skin but before the Broodling can strike another blow Karakuri falls on her.
The process is less horrifying than the Doll’s attack on Rifuto but no less swift; in a blur of motion the metal claws of unfolding ribs grip the dark-haired girl’s arms and legs and forces her to her knees. Two more hiss into place under her chin, cutting a thin red trail across her throat.
“I will avenge him.” Wana whispers to Sazae and leans in a fraction. Running his fingers along the edge of one of Karakuri’s claws he draws a tiny droplet of scarlet blood.
“This I swear in blood.”
Sazae looks up and sees that beyond the coldness in his eyes his words are dripping with hatred.
“I believe you.” She says equally softly.
“Well done to both contestants!” Akira announces from above and, looking into the others eyes both know that this tournament is just starting to heat up.
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Yokai Orochi Revived Vice Captain
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