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The lynxes split up, circled around, and attacked Harou from either side. The weapon had changed, their maneuver hadn't. One high, one low.

It was an odd talent of cat to be able to maneuver themselves in midair. You could throw a cat out of an airplane and it would land safely. How? By spreading itself out, a cat could increase its air resistance, or drag. This reduced its effective terminal velocity to something slow enough for the cat to survive the impact unfazed.

While this information is fascinating, neither cat was truly a cat. One cat writhed a bit in midair--doing a barrel roll, so to speak--but was still struck, cutting off part of its tail. It poofed back into Westly, who appeared uninjured by the experience. Why? A couple possibilities:

1. He'd been hit in a body part he didn't possess.
2. If he was considered to be wearing his protective clothing, the kunai wouldn't have drawn blood.
3. Even in the worst case scenario, where the strike drew blood, the kunai hadn't penetrated Westly's clothing, it had bypassed it. If he was bleeding, he was bleeding underneath his clothing.

In short, Harou had no way of knowing if Westly was uninjured or simply hiding the injury. Bruised? Bleeding? Just peachy? Westly's face and stance gave away nothing, and it would be a few minutes still before he bled enough for a dark stain to blossom on the cloth.

As for the other cat... it did something impossible for a cat, but as previously mentioned, it wasn't a cat, it was an illusion made out of mist.

It dodged. In midair. It just sidestepped, without any footing to speak of, and kept running at Harou. It struck just as he was landing, while Harou was still entirely too much in midair to dodge, being made as he was of flesh and blood instead of mist and dreams. Unless Harou had some other tricks up his sleeve, the cat stuck to his shirt and starting thrashing about, clawing and tearing at Harou's face and chest.

Ruling: Westly was hit by the kunai, and since it hit the tail, it would end up striking somewhere in his lower back/rear end. The penetration/damage of said wound is still up for debate, but it would be enough to draw blood, such as a scratch that is deep enough to draw blood, but isn't more than something that scabs over within minutes.

The other kunai hit the cat's paper bomb and destroyed it, and scattered the surrounding mist.

Also, because Westly has been using quite the bit of chakra conversion, he should be at least winded by this time.

(( "Dura lex, sed lex."
--Latin proverb meaning "The Law is Cruel, but it is the Law"

I disagree completely with your ruling, and have a case prepared to dispute it... but I think that, given my track record for insubordination, I would be better served by rolling with it. That said, I do see your point regarding the vagueness about my, uh, 'ammunition'. ))

The mist was fading quickly, as Westly wasn't even expending the minimum amount required to maintain it.

Self-Diagnosis:
Health: 92% (acceptable)
Stamina: 38% (catch your breath)
Chakra: 3% (Critical! Do not use jutsus!)

Westly glared at Harou, baring his teeth. "I. Never. Lose." He threw a lit firework at Harou and dashed off towards the trees. He'd been less than please by the remaining contents of his pockets. THREE?!? Three. I have three fireworks left. Half a dozen paper bombs, and as many mist beads... this fight is going to ******** bankrupt me!

Leaning against a tree, he caught his breath. He was hiding, but in a fairly mundane sort of way: his outfit was the same color as the trees. Westly tried to keep an eye on Harou. He resisted the urge to take a drink from his canteen until the smoke cleared. If Harou was running after him--or worse, if he was invisible--Westly wouldn't have the time.

Westly took a long draw from his flask. He's still paranoid about what I'm planning. Good. That gives me time to plan something. Honestly, do I look the kind of guy with a plan? Plans are worthless. Strategy is a state of mind. Westly felt his left hip. His hand came away wet with blood. Bloody lovely. If I had ten minutes to get my chakra back, I could heal that. If I wait THAT long, he's coming after me. Or he'd get his own chakra back.

Westly sighed. He was a lot calmer inside than the furious front he was putting on. The people in the stands came for a show. The least he could do was act a bit...

He glanced at Harou. Can't let him rest. Crossbow beats kunai. I think I'm out of his range. He drew his crossbow, took a breath, and sniped at Harou. It was a quick shot to make him move. He'd wait for an opening before trying to aim the kill shot. A misnomer, really. Unless a bolt managed to punch through Harou's skull, there'd be enough time for a med-nin to save him before that. Even a heart shot would take around 30 seconds to kill. Med-nin were still ninjas, and ninjas worked quickly.

"s**t!"

Heart pounding, Westly ran up the tree and perched on a branch, his back against the trunk. Leaves and stray branched rustled from his passage. There went what little chakra he'd gained from his moment's respite.

There was no mist left. He looked around. Something. Anything. Did Blood of the Assassin leave footprints? The ground was dusty enough...

"Gotcha."

Westly heard the branches and leaves rustle once more. There was no other warning, not even footsteps, but even an invisible man moves leaves from the speed of his passage. It could've been the wind for all Westly knew... except there was no wind in an indoor arena. Even then, he had nowhere near enough time for a dodge, or even where to dodge. Just enough for a single handseal.

Westly vanished as he activated the trap he'd laid what seemed an eternity ago...



The Magician symbolized crafts, tricks, slight of hand, parlor magic... a substitution jutsu he'd prepped in advance.

The suit of Wands symbolized will, passion, power... and fire. They were poetically-named exploding tags.

Whatever happened next, the fight was done. With the amount of chakra Harou had left, a dozen exploding tags should be enough to punch through a Chakra Barrier. With the amount of chakra Westly had left, he was barely conscious. He could probably sit there for a while if he wanted, but he had no real strength left. He wasn't walking away from this fight.

Westly rolled his eyes. "You surrender... or you die. I'm done pulling punches. Every time I think 'ooh, can't do that, it might kill him', you manage to endure the experience. I'm done erring on the side of caution. If you feel like continuing, I want everyone present to know that you understand the consequences. Or shall I describe for you all the ways I can kill you without even so much as standing up?"

He touched a pouch on his vest. "In this pocket, I keep my high-explosive rockets. Aim a few straight up, and the ceiling with cave in, killing you and anyone near you.

He pointed to another pocket. "In this pocket, I have a prototype artillery weapon. It's so simple in design: an enormous boulder sealed inside the paper casing of a rocket. When the rocket bursts at its apex, the seal is destroyed, and the boulder falls from a height of several thousand feet. More than enough to wreck a stone wall. Or crush a house and everyone in it. Punch a hole in the arena ceiling with the first weapon I mentioned, take aim... who do you care about most in this village? Sheena? I wonder if she's home..."

Another pocket. "In here, I have the same thing, but filled with weighted needles. When it bursts, they'll shred everything for twenty paces to bloody ribbons."

He pointed to a large pouch on his back. "And here's where I keep my real ace in the hole. A weapon I designed in absolute secret to fight Chaos's minions. Only recently completed at great personal expense. Preliminary tests place my performance while wielding it at Jounin-class or higher. Against you? Don't make me laugh."

Westly grinned. "And that's just what I can do while sitting here in this tree. So surrender. Now."