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In Kemurigakure there was a white poplar tree in a clearing. No other trees grew near it and not one of the shinobi who lived there would dare to climb it or to break its branches for firewood. From each tiny twig hung metal bells and paper tags tied on with red strings. A few of the bells were actual silver; more were rough beaten iron or cheap tin that had already started to rust.
Regardless whether the inked characters were in the elegant calligraphy of the nobles or the rounded handwriting of a child they all wanted the same thing:
To be heard.

A cold wind starts to blow.

Komodo Hiroshi looks up as the wind shakes the branches and the bells start to chime. Each has a unique peal and instead of a silver-throated chorus the noise is an increasing discord.

The corners of his mouth drag downwards as a frown creases his brow.

A solitary leaf parts company from its branch and spirals towards the ground.
Instinctively he traps it between his fingers.
The top of the leaf is a vibrant green but its underside is a velvety white.

Hiroshi softly drags his finger over it.
Its papery feel makes him think of a message left unwritten or maybe he is simply unable to read it.

As it lies in his hand he can’t help but wonder at how much he has changed.
His fingernails are claws in all but name, they have grown long and strong and he had given up shredding gloves in an attempt to hide them. Other shinobi had started to treat him with a wary respect ever since he started to walk around with them bare.

He had outgrown his simple shells of spiked armour and traded in his shorts and black t-shirt for a Sunagakure styled garment the dull unfriendly orange of igneous rocks.

As he pulls his hood back up the patchy sunlight gleams off his bright hair. It was still a cherry red at the roots and a golden blond at the tips but he had ceased to augment the natural colours with showy hair dyes and overall the impression he gave would be similar to that of one of the Paths of Pain if there was more than a handful of people left alive who could remember what Pain looked like.

Whereas before he had swaggered like her had to prove he was strongest his steps now were as measured and perfect as a lion’s tread. He moved with the laidback stroll of one who knew that he was the strongest.

As he left behind the tree he smiled (which stretched the crinkled scar at the corner of his mouth) but it never reached his slit pupilled eyes.

They were reptilian eyes, as old as flame rocked canyons, eyes that sound watch the world go by.

You could drown in eyes like that.

‘Would Kaze be able to recognise his hot-blooded lizard now?’ Hiroshi idly wonders as he wanders along the rough animal track of a path. He still had that fervent energy that had categorized him in his early life but he had managed to channel it inwards.

In short Hiroshi had grown up.

“Sorry I’m late you see this bird-” He starts as he steps into another small clearing and eases down his hood.

“That’s a damn lie and we all know it!” His students simultaneously protest as their sensei looks sheepish and rubs the back of his head.

Well maybe he hadn’t grown up that much.

_______________________________________________________________

Fireworks were exploding over the village.

If nothing else the people of Kemurigakure knew how to party even if they didn’t do it in their own village.

A few of the daimyo had complained about that and a few of the older ninjas had been suspicious but the food was good as was the drink and there were plenty of both.

The chunin exams were normally very dignified, after all it was a diplomatic meeting of military powers but this tiny speck of land seemed to be saying, as loudly as possible ‘We are here!’

Another firework explodes in a magnificent starburst of red and blue and throws multi-coloured lights over the packed streets.

Streamers and paper lanterns hung from every doorway and the shop fronts were all bustling with activity, selling jewellery or weapons or strange and exotic foods from a hot iron plate. Most of those stalls had Akamichi clan members outside haggling for recipes.

Every crossroads had a stage where performers dances or sung or put on puppet shows and occasionally a visiting shinobi would take the stage to challenge them.

The air was filled with the happy babbling or a lot of people getting a bit fatter and a bit poorer.

Yoru quite liked it.
His childhood hadn’t included many things that were pretty but useless and most of the festival was completely new to him.

A fountain of yellow sparks leaps up above the rooftops and makes him grin. Imagine an explosion that wasn’t meant to hurt people but look pretty! What a rare thing it was.

He bought a white plastic mask made to look like an ANBU and stopped at every food stall he could see to buy a little something for Doku.

He had even seen the Hokage at a noodle bar with this village’s elected leader; a man that looked like he had escaped from one of Father’s labs.

This whole exam thing looks like it might be fun…

___________________________________________________________

This was the first year Kemurigakure had been allowed to host the chunin exams. It had been one of the true hidden villages, little more than a large mercenary organization.
The Hokage had persuaded the other villages by means of political coercion and straight out guile to allow Kemurigakure to be recognised at as nation; it allowed the shinobi that fought to be recognised instead of simply fading away into legend.

Now he was increasingly convinced his decision was the right one, after all any village who’s leader would let him hold a meeting in a noodle bar was surely an ally of all that was true and good in this world.

“So you’re only entering three teams?” Naruto asks through a mouth of pork flavoured noodles.

The two ANBU at his side shift their weight from foot to foot nervously. This situation was a tactical nightmare. There was no way they could keep an eye on all the crowd at the same time and the Hokage had flat out refused more bodyguards.

The possibly future Kemurikage only had one body guard, perhaps out of a wish to keep things friendly, but they look like they could lift an ox-cart in each carapace covered hand. Akira’s child lets his long scaly tail coil around the bar stool as he struggles to grip his chopsticks.

The Brood or The Multitude as they were sometimes known was rapidly making their way towards being a ninja clan. The horrible mixture of insect, serpent and human never looked the same but was always sentient and always hungry.

“We are a small village Hokage-sama.” Akira says somewhat nervously. “And being a shinobi is a dangerous occupation. We have few students.”

“Still if they get knocked out in the first round.” Naruto’s chopstick stabs through a slice of roast pork. “Then you’re villages first chunin exams might lose you the respect of the other villages…and the funding of the Daimyo.”
“Oh I don’t think that’s going to happen.” It’s impossible to tell between his bandaged mouth and dark glasses but Akira is smiling. “They have been training awfully hard.”

“So has Konoha’s genins. I have a feeling their going to do great this year.” Naruto grins.

“Then again I doubt we’re the only ones that can make such a claim.” Akira adds nervously, looking into his bowl to avoid Naruto’s enthusiasm.

A comet of green streaks through the air before exploding in orange sparks.

“It’s getting rather late isn’t it? I hope the entrants aren’t getting too caught up in the festivities.” Akira changes the subject. “The entry forms are due in by the end of the day and the first test begins tomorrow.”

“I look forward to seeing it.” Naruto says and he means it not just because he wants to see how Konoha’s genins perform but because there is the sneaking feeling that something is indeed suspicious.

Kemurigakure needed watching.

In Kemuigakure there was a white poplar tree. It’s bells chimed unheard and, slowly, the red string of a prayer came undone. The slip of paper falls and is lost under the paper colored leaves.

Biwa takes the biwa from his back and starts to play. With the surrounding chaos the effect is reminiscent of a musician on a sinking ship.
“Biwa what do we do?” Keitiki asks timidly.
Biwa does not pause in his music.
“Escape.” His voice blends in perfectly with the tune.
“What do want us to do?” Sazae asks.
Biwa tells them.


One of the Hidden Grass Village teams can’t take the pressure. The team leader pushes towards the exit. As soon as his hand brushes the barrier it ignites with a bright flame that flickers over his entire body. His team mates ignite simultaneously and, in barely a second, the white ash tumbles down.
The screaming starts as the students start to fight amongst each other.
The screen flickers back on, showing a large countdown ticking below the tiny portrait photos of the exam’s entrants.
Three of the portraits now have red crosses through them.
There is a brief pause before one of the Kiri genin’s has the bright idea of picking up the diminutive Ame genin before him and hurling them at the gateway.
Three more crosses appear as the ash falls.
Pandemonium takes hold.
The centre of the room becomes a battle arena as the teams brawl to eliminate the competition.
Other teams skirt the periphery, trying to find a way to destroy the grey stone walls that seem to swallow the chakra of any jutsu that touches them.

“Wana.” Karakuri says.
“I’m working on it.” The genjutsu specialist snaps at him as his eyes scurry across the room.
Giri holds his katana out at a deterrent to the other teams.
He appears almost bored. He has worked out the trick.

Sero waits on the periphery, watching his battles fight themselves.
“Look at them scurry like ants.” He tells the scarlet haired girl at his side.
The girl pushes up her glasses as she examines the battlefield and briefly considers lobbing one of her many poisoned blades into the mob.
“At this rate they will destroy themselves. All without me having to lift a finger.” He tells his aide.
“It’s anarchy.” She replies and tries not to find the concept too appealing.

“My first life was of tedium, my second life let me do all I wanted, my third life was as a dreadful man, my fourth life was as a blind pianist.” Biwa hums as he plays his chords.
Keitiki twitches, wanting to leap into the fray.
Biwa silences her with a wave of his hand.
“Wait.”
The counter ticks down further. 40 minutes remain. Then thirty. Then twenty.
Teams are eliminated quickly, the victors being quick to drag new opponents into the brawl in the centre.
“God gazes on the spectacle and the dice roll...” Biwa hums as his music permeates every part of the room. “Claiming lives with fate like that...It’s sheer comedy. Happiness and sorrow, merely choices decided by one in six...”
Sazae forms hand seals and summons red painted tonfas. An entrant gets to close and she grabs his arm and tosses him back into the thick of the fray.
“Ah how laughable it is...” Biwa’s eyes are closed now as he sings.

“Look!” someone yells out, pointing at the screen.
As the last contestant becomes ash the pictures with the red crosses disappear from the screen.
Half of them are gone and the timer stops.
The genin’s pause in their battles at look at the screen.
With a seconds pause the timer starts to tick again.
“Trickery, deceit he cares not, for people revere him as a god.” Biwa’s music fills the waiting silence. “Ah how laughable it is.”
A few teams opt for death now and throw themselves at the exit.
The bright lights of burning illuminate the looks of horror on the faces of the others.

Yoru, deciding ‘what the hell’ singles Taran out from the crowd and kisses him hard.
The remaining teams, four Konoha, two Ame, three Mizu, two Suna, three Iwa and three Kusa, slowly slump to the floor.

Five minutes.

Sero is pale with rage.

Four minutes.

Biwa stands and gestures to Sazae.
She flings a blade into the wall where it sticks and the explosive tags explode. It leaves a slowly healing dent.

Three minutes.

The Mizu Nin obligingly join in, slicing at the same place in the stone with their blades.

The Kusa Nin stand.

Two minutes.

The wall cannot absorb the chakra of so many jutsu at once. It crack under the force and begins to break.

One minute.

The stone wall cracks away and falls in large chunks and a cheer goes up.

Thirty seconds.

The smoke clears.

Ten seconds.

The stone falls still, revealing the shining pane of tempered steel behind it, glowing with carved seals to blunt blades and absorb any kind of force.
There is an artificial hiss that echoes through out the room.

“Congratulations for passing the first test of the chunin exams.” Tsuru’s voice echoes from the concealed speakers.

This announcement is met by a chorus of relieved sobs and more than a few choice swears in his general direction.

“Even when facing death a ninja must be resolute.” He recites with all the dryness of one reading from a text book. “Those who opt to destroy themselves rather than attempt to face adversity are not worthy of becoming a chunin. Only utmost determination against the odds will be rewarded. Now the next test will be testing your knowledge of physics …”

There is the indistinct sound of an argument and the bird masked man turns his head to the side.

“What is it?”

The reply is too far away from the microphone to be heard properly but it seems to get Tsuru rather flustered.

“I filled out the correct application.”

The indistinct whispering gets more forceful in tone.

“What do mean court marshal?!”

There is a minor scuffle as the bird masked Nin apparently tries to run and is tackled out of his chair. After a few more sounds of conflict another ninja moves into the camera’s focus, a man in a similarly avian mask but with long silvery hair plaited in the style of the Kagura Clan.

The symbols on the gate fade away and the faint haze of the barrier fades away.

“Please step through the gate to be told to the next location for the Second Stage of the chunin exams.” The Kemuri nin turns to face Tsuru who’s apparently lying on the floor. “And why did you alter the seal to burn off clothing in the first place? Now we have a bunch of naked genins in need of counselling and that does not look good on the Village’s record.”

He kicks the prone ninja on the floor as the majority of the surviving teams wonder how this trauma had suddenly become comedy.

One of the stunned Mizu nin picks up the Kusa nin he had been wrestling with and casually tosses the lighter ninja through the gateway.
When he merely faceplants onto the boards beyond instead of bursting into flames the genins disheartened shuffle out of the sealed room to Tsuru’s muffled protests.

Admittedly some psychological testing was regular in these exams but just causing chaos like that had no style...

"The second exam will take place at exactly midnight at Akagetsu Town Gate. Until then get some sleep and prepare your weapons."

The nin says as they leave and turns off the screen.

Slowly the hole in the wall starts to heal itself...

In Kemurigakure there was a white poplar tree. It’s spread branches were wide and the shade of the clearing was a cool comfort to all that rested there. What wild animal would dare come near it, knowing what had been there before? It was the only true place in the village that was always safe, always welcoming

Two figures lay in the soft grasses now with their fingers entangled like the tree roots and dappled shade mottling their faces.
One had other duties that they should be attending to but could not muster up enthusiasm for blood-letting so early on such a glorious morning.
The other had no duties to perform, no business being here but the simply curiosity of another and reveled in the meeting.
The heart wants to be near what it loves and the fruit had not been needed for a happy ending between the two.
Besides Giri knew more of this forest than even the Kemuri Nin who had set the exam up deliberately so he at least could not fail.
It had cost a hefty portion of the inheritance he had no use for but bought him a few golden midnight moments. He knew both parents would consider that a fair bargain.
The albino dreamt stratagems all night, ways for him to coerce the release of his dark-haired lover into these woods for good.
Wrapped in strong, warm arms Doku dreamed of fresh lamb on a bed of wild rice and nuzzled closer to his living pillow.
Glad to finally have their more moral teammate happily incapacitated Karakuri and Wana put into play their own plans.

Taran had fallen asleep against Yoru's shoulder; inevitable considering the amount of 'exercise' they had both engaged in.
Yoru too had not lasted much longer after weaving a genjutsu web to hide them from sight and alert him to danger. Then he had wrapped an arm around Taran's shoulder and nodded off himself.
Neither of the pair worried much for Arashi who would never follow and order to stay hidden in one place or, even if she did, would draw some calamity to her live a candle draws moths. Destiny never ran out of jobs for anyone that looked idle to do.
Besides the branch they had made base-camp had a concealment genjutsu on it made of a seal Orochimaru-sama had bartered from Kaze himself.
It would make a safe enough place to hide should it be required.

Yoru slept easily and did not notice the soft slit that was carved into the belly of his genjutsu and silently sewn shut again. His closed eyes did not see the dull gleam of the curved bladed dagger, so different from that of a kunai, or the dark grey gloved hand that held it.
The years of training Kimimaro had beaten into his weary body saw all too well and as the dagger was raised so to did Yoru's hands move and tightly grip the wrists of his would-be assassin and the eyes slipping into wakefulness already glowed red with the sharingan.
He isn't surprised in the slightest when they meet similarly red eyes.
Sero draws back his lips in a silent snarl but it is simple enough for Yoru to see past the gesture of hatred. Sero's eyes are wider then usual and there was a trace of sweat lingering on his pale skin. He was nervous.
Kabuto had forbidden him to seek anything approaching counsel from another, a fact that made his older brother pity Sero all the more. At least he had Kimimaro to answer all his questions and soothe his fears. The closest thing to a friend Sero was allowed was his hated brother.
These meeting were all too common and Yoru knew it was a desperate attempt to find someone to talk to rather than a genuine assassination attempt.
For one the blade wasn't even poisoned.
"I will kill you." Sero whispers. The words lack emphasis behind the menace. It had become an accustomed greeting.
"Maybe, maybe not." Yoru holds his gaze firmly and keeps his brother's hands held tight. He can't even drop the dagger unless Yoru wished it.
Smirking with all too familiar arrogance Sero inclines his head to the side, towards the still sleeping Taran.
"Before I do I'm going to cut up your little boy toy." Sero tugs on his dagger but Yoru's grip is still tight. "Still think you'll wanna ******** the b***h once I've made him my chopping board?"
Yoru shrugs in a very calm way that makes Sero angrier.
"I like him." The older Uchiha gives his brother's poisonous words no heed. Hopefully they will remain empty threats.
"Awww are you in love the first Suna slut who'll jump into bed with you?" Sero teases, still struggling to break Yoru's hold.
"Probably." Yoru replies evenly.
"What's that like?" Sero's voice is barely a whisper.

Yoru is surprised and Sero swiftly looks away to avoid eye contact.
It may be just a trick of the poor lighting but was his brother blushing?
Yoru remembers something else he had seen, in a normal family.
Twisting his grip on Sero's hands Yoru makes him stumble forwards and embed the dagger harmlessly into the tree trunk. Releasing his hold Yoru swiftly wraps his arms around his shoulders.
Sero's thin body trembles at the touch.
Had this seriously been the first time he had a normal, friendly hug? Yoru had always taken it for granted.
"You're doing very well brother." He whispers softly in Sero's ear. "Now scram."
He lets go and Sero leaps back like a demon that has just been doused with holy water and spits on the ground before fleeing as fast as his feet can carry him.
"He runs like a chicken." Taran mutters without opening his eyes.
"He has the manners of one too." Yoru replies, snuggling back next to the Suna Nin. "Just a bit longer in 'bed'?"
Taran doesn't reply, he's already nodded off.
They would be asleep for the events of the next two hours.

The next Suna team to try one of the hanging fruits of the Forest of No Return was swiftly out of the running. It took less than half an hour for the tiny wasp eggs that turned the normally bitter green fruit into a plump blue gall to incubate within the warmth of a human stomach and sting their way out, buzzing in swarms around their new hives.

The Ame teams were disqualified, fleeing from between the trees after only half an hour after one claimed they saw the grim specter of Salamander Hanzo among the trees, stalking those who's existence was due to the support of his overthrow. One came to die, months later, from the rare poison of the Black Salamander.

A Kusa team searching for water was the next to fail as they fell prey to one of the forest's many Whispering Streams, as soon as their lips touched a drop of the clear water their fingers curled back on themselves and their clothes fell away as feathers forced their way through cloth. In under a minute all that was left were a lonely pile of clothing and three white herons winging their way towards the sunrise.

Two Iwa teams got into a feverent battle over a theft each one blamed on another while a ninja with no face laughed at them from above the tree-tops and it's partner shadows sucked each drop of fallen blood from the dirt.
As the last one of the Iwa fell from the wounds it leapt down, featureless face shifting between the forms of each fallen comrade, alike only in the menace behind it's smile.

One Konoha team merely heard the sound of a grass flute playing from between the trees and wandered after it, never to be seen or heard from again.

A Kiri team lost themselves in the darkest parts of the woods, surviving but never returning to the forests border when the bell was struck because they had found things more fun than a droll shinobi life. Any search sent out to find them failed but for many years afterwards the fresh-water crocodiles of those darkened pools would be noted for a disturbing aptitude for mischief and a darkening of the head scales that rather resembled the four wave emblem of Kirigakure.

Other teams were fragmented, some divided by disloyalty and others by the forest itself. There was little the forest did not splinter, leading many of the non-Kemuri nin to actually view the trees as trying to remove interlopers. Very few knew that was indeed the case.
There was little that Kuromaru could not see from the tall Frost Pine at the trees border. His Hyuuga eye cut through the mere miles as if the distance was an insult. He saw the Kusa team sprout their feathers and the last convulsions of the Suna team and treated them with apathy alike. This whole exam was an expensive way of settling the long-standing Dispute, even though he was proud he had handled things better than Tsuru had. Then again the Kaguya wasn't sure Tsuru did understand anything about the political state the village had been left in after both Kaze and Hayato had died, to the bird-masked scientist any of Kemuri's glorious leaders existed solely to squeeze funding out of.
He had to apologize for the tackle.
Thankfully Tsuru didn't harbor any grudges.
Or possible he did. It was hard to tell really.
All that mattered to Kuromaru on the other hand was making sure Hiroshi's students passed. Once they did this silent civilwar in every sense of the word would be won.

Biwa had disappeared, no doubt to do something terribly important, and left Keitiki and Sazae to each others company. None of them complained at the time, that would mean doubting Biwa after all, but it was apparent they cordially detested each other as rivals in love. Keitiki, as usual, refused to shut up, babbling on and on with insults caged with false compliments on everything from her rival's dress to the color of her eyes while Sazae remained defiantly silent and inwardly wondered if Keitiki had a motor installed in her throat that let her babble on for so long without stopping for breath.
"I'm going to go find something to eat." She says, overriding Keitiki's latest comment and trudging off into the trees without waiting for a reply.
Indignantly Keitiki is forced into a jog to catch up with her.
"Oh no, no, no I'm not letting you look good in front of Biwa just because you snuck out to get food. I bet I can find something twice as good for him-"
Sazae stops paying attention and Keitiki's chatter becomes just an unpleasant echoing in her ears until Keitiki actually elbows her in the ribs.
"What?"
Keitiki points to a place off the right from the animal path they had been following.
"I saw Biwa going that way!" She says in what she probably believed was a whisper.
"So?" Sazae keeps walking forwards, carefully brushing aside some of the dense scrub.
Keitiki rolls her eyes at the idiocy of her companion and plunges after Sazae.
"So if we follow him we can see where he's going, even protect him from other ninjas if they try to lay an ambush!"
"Biwa doesn't need any of that." Sazae argues.
"Well...yeah...but aren't you curious as to why he didn't come over?" Keitiki whines, grabbing Sazae's sleeve.
Sazae inhales sharply and quickly pulls her garment free.
"If we go check it out will you please stop pestering me!"
"Of course." Keitiki says with a smug grin and Sazae sighs and gives in.
"Fine. You go around the left-side and follow from behind." And hopefully the tangled branches to that side of the path would be enough to slow her down so no-one could hear her constant complaining.
"I'll flank the right." Sazae says and mentally makes a note to memorize whatever it was Biwa was up to for when Keitiki got lost and pressed her for details.

Gagaku Biwa trudged his way along a winding dirt path, the summer heat had dried out the dirt that was normally mud churned by the feet of wild pigs going to drink. With what seems like a nervous twitch he plucks the strings of his Biwa in a way that sounds a few disorganized chords as he walks. It is a finding song to draw him to his target and each glowing thread of chakra gleams in his vision as each note augments his senses.
The branching patterns of the places someone has touched begin to resemble something of a spider's web.
Perfect, he is close indeed.
For a brief moment there is a flash of another chakra, one he seemed to recognize but so familiar was the feel Biwa never had time to identify it as a possible threat before the flicker was gone.
Biwa continues down the path un-alerted to his followers.
To many other nin the most dangerous woods of Kemuri were a formless formidable maze of bent branches and confusing twists but Kemuri village's habit of immediately tossing those who wished to become shinobi straight into the most deadly place they owned meant this was as much his training grounds as it was the others Forest of Death.
Each stand of trees and even the faint tingling of the genjutsu warping his senses were as familiar as a street-sign. The spirits of the trees were happy to let him pass. This was his village, from the dirt under his feet to the arrow-shaped leaves that reached towards the still darkened skies. He had been a part of it since the moment he had first opened his eyes and pulled himself from the nutrient slime of the cloning tanks.
He loved this village, knew it like the instrument that had been the first thing he had grabbed hold of and refused to let go of since.
"Wana."
With the gleam from his glasses carefully concealing his expression Hideki's prized student perches in the branches of a black poplar like a bloat-bellied spider with skinny, twig-like limbs.
The curl of his head as he looks down at the much shorter Bard is distinctly...predatory.
"Biwa."
He leaps straight down and lands without having to bend his knees. It's a remarkable smooth action for a genjutsu specialist, a path not normally known for any physical prowess.
Biwa does not flinch in the slightest as Wana approaches, although he does start to pick out a different song on the Biwa. With a subtle incline of his head he gestures for Wana to sit. The request is heeded and Biwa soon settles down beside him, a tough springy grass providing a decent pillow.
The bard sits cross-legged to best play his instrument and Wana inclines his head to look up at the fading stars.
The smudge of the rising sun bleeds light into the night sky.
Carefully and drawing Biwa's close attention Wana summons a small bundle wrapped in oilcloth. Biwa carefully pulls apart the wrappings. Inside is two of the soft flower shaped bread rolls from the pre-exam festivities, a blob of soft cheese and one green apple.
The knife Wana pulls from the folds of his shirt is a short single curve of steel and little use as a weapon and holds the blade not the handle as he offers it to Biwa.
The Bard serves breakfast in the silence broken only by the waking calls of birds, slicing the apple into crescent shaped slices and spreading the soft cheese across each one before stuffing both rolls with the mixture.
Breakfast is eaten in silence too, a soft diplomatic silence between two who had no right to be meeting so peacefully.
As Biwa wraps the apple-core and the remaining cheese back up in the oilcloth Wana leans over and runs a finger over the rough linen bandages that cover the bard's mouth.
Biwa lets him.

At that time the remaining entrants in the chunin exams numbered nine Konoha nin, three Kiri nin, three Suna nin, two Iwa nin and six Kusa nin...

In Kemurigakure was a sacred tree raising its branches in a salute to the sun. Its leaves shone in the early morning sun, reflecting back the green part of the light and using the other wavelengths to fuel its cells. From out of the blue a wind rattled its branches, bending them in on each other as bells chimed discordant and paper tags were whipped into a frenzied complex dance...but there was no-one there to see it.

With a final ‘twang’ the last razor sharp wire is sliced through and red wound ringed fingers, shallowly cut by many other similarly sharp wires, fling the kunai aside into a patch of dirt.
Wriggling through the razor sharp threads with the remaining wires leaving large slits through the cloth of his outfit and making his haircut uneven Yoru pulls himself out from the net of wires. As if recognizing its puzzle has been beaten the entire structure sags slightly as he moves into the light.
Yoru instinctively tries to brush his hair out of his eyes and winces at the pain in his many tiny wounds. Even for Sero having to unknot wire to get loose was just cruel. It was nowhere near fatal but it hurt.
Taran crawls out beside him, wincing as he tries to stand, he had spent far too much time bent over today.
The Suna Nin winces and rubs his hips.
Far too much time.
Yoru closes his eyes then opens them again, this time blazing red with the Sharingan. He rotates his wrist then twists it back at an unnatural angle as the bones of his arm extend and push their way through his wrist.
With a barely perceptible nod to the Puppeteer the two set off at a run.
The trap hadn't been meant to kill them. Sero would never end the game this early.
But he would want to gloat, to humiliate Yoru before defeating him and although the Uchiha blood in him prevented him from worrying for his own safety he was greatly concerned for others.

The trees seem to part before them rather than face Yoru’s burning anger and Taran found he was quietly trying to stay directly behind him. Yes, Yoru had overestimated his own abilities and got them trapped but if anything had happened to Arashi because of it Taran pitied whatever agent of Sero had tried it. Yoru’s eyes were gleaming in a way no mortal eyes should.
The trees with their deceitfully twisted tree roots remained just trees instead of rising up to snare their feet. A few eyes gleamed in the shadows but apparently thought better of interfering and disappeared again.
It didn’t take too long for the venerable spreading oak to come into view.
The branches all appeared completely empty even to his sharingan but Yoru just hoped that meant his genjutsu seal was operating as it had been designed to.
His foot hit the ground then the underside of the tree branch, clinging tight to it by focusing his chakra as he leapt into the shelter.
Arashi, smoking a large Tuna fish over a carefully controlled fire looks up as her team leader barges in through the genjutsu, eyes glowing red and blade-like bone starting to rip through his already tattered clothes.
“Arashi-” He starts to ask but he doesn’t get any further than that before a blow smashes him clear across the room.
Yoru impacts hard with the tree trunk and the bones grown from his Kekkai Genkai crack and shatter into rough uneven shards.
A dribble of blood oozes from the corner of his mouth as his head is snapped backwards.
Several of his ribs crack and have to be hurriedly patched together again and his vision flickers as he nearly loses consciousness.
It was like being hit by a charging bull except bulls don’t have fangs and there was a mouth full of them currently being shoved in his face.
Yoru freezes stock still and tries not to look threatening. He can't even see this creature’s eyes to use his sharingan.
“No, bad boy!” Arashi scolds without looking up from her cooking. “Yoru is a friend.”
With a growl and the stink of wet fur and old meat the teeth move back from Yoru’s head and allow him to see the bear-like snout behind it.
The things lips draw back as it snarls silently at him, clearly not trusting the now distinctly battered looking Nin and turns back towards where the thin membrane of genjutsu has just been parted by Taran’s fingertips.
The huge stubby clawed hand that could crush skulls like egg shells have the Suna Nin dangling by his ankles before he can summon any of his puppets.
The creature snorts a puff of warm breath in Taran’s face as Yoru struggles to get up, as if the furred hybrid was wordlessly asking the question What about him?
“Taran is a friend too.” Arashi says pointedly, actually looking up this time.
With an exaggerated care the creature puts Taran down and swings off out through the genjutsu barrier to find more fish.
Arashi crosses her arms.
“And where have you two been? It’s nearly Lunch!”

Sazae has to shove her fist into her mouth to suppress the desire to giggle. Biwa and Wana. Biwa and Wana.
No matter how she looked at it her desires were torn between hysterical laughter and a fan girl squeal.
Biwa was always just so…well he was Biwa. All dark and mysterious and cool, any girl would have fallen for him.
Wana was all; well there was no way to put it with out being offensive, but he was all gangly legs and round lens glasses and he was creepy even for one of Hideki’s students.
And yet they were definitely together. No doubt about that, Sazae blushed, and it had been so cute to see them having breakfast under the sunrise and then Wana had run a finger over Biwa’s mouth so smoothly like a real player. She can’t help a small giggle at that thought and she’s glad she left before things got any more friendly between them otherwise she would never have been able to keep quiet.
Sazae doesn’t bother sparing more than a few sorrowful thoughts for her unrequited crush. Biwa had someone to make him happy and Sazae didn’t want to get in the way of that for some selfish reason, the important thing was love after all.
Still…the leader of their team and the leader of their enemy’s team, just sharing bread under the sun…

Sazae wasn’t exactly sure why it was so important that they had to beat Hideki’s team. He and Sensei were really good friends once, more than friends if the rumors were to be believed and no-one ever mentioned what it was that caused their falling out.
The dark haired girl rummages in her pack for something for lunch. It was something pretty important she was sure and that made her feel uneasy. Sazae wasn’t the type of girl who liked feeling as if she was being manipulated, no matter how much she really wanted to be a Chunin she hated it on principle.
With a conspicuously loud rustling Keitiki tramps out from the bushes, brushes a few stray leaves from her hair and flops down on a tree stump.
Her upper lip wobbles.
Sazae sighs internally and inwardly hopes she isn't going to throw a tantrum.
"You did that on purpose!" Keitiki whines in a tone that penetrated like a dentist's drill.
"Did what?" Sazae asks, distracted.
Wana and Biwa under the tree with their arms around each other...She tries not to blush at the thought.
"Sent me down the wrong path!" Keitiki whines, looking for a stone in her shoe.
Privately Sazae thinks that she will never make Chunin if she keeps on complaining like this on every mission. Her teammates would throttle her before the enemy had a chance to.
"Look be quiet and I'll tell you what happened."
Sazae recounts the story as Keitiki's complaints lessen. By the end of it she is wide eyed with disbelief and when Sazae finishes by recounting the way Wana ran his fingers along Biwa's bandages the red-head blushes and hides a high pitched fan girl squeal beneath the bright pink and purple sleeve of her dress.
"You're not upset?" Sazae asks cautiously.
"I totally would be but BL is sooo sexy." Keitiki grins. "But you're going to say something boring like we're not allowed to tell anyone."
"What?!" Sazae snaps out of her own private musings. "No you can't tell anyone!"
"I have to keep all the good gossip to myself." Keitiki pouts.
Thankfully Sazae doesn't have to put up with her for much longer before Biwa returns and that avenue of conversation is firmly sealed off.

The bright light of noon gleamed off the curve of the steel blade. It was a kama, just like his name and a tool more than a weapon. He had bought it not to fight with but to show his pride in his family's heritage.
Now his proud weapon had been dirtied by unworthy blood.
Kama was not by nature a fighter. His usual personality was of the calm and controlled leader, the kind of person who could make good snap decisions and think of strategies under pressure.
That was the kind of person he had been before this exam.
The forest had tried to break them with even more efficiency than Tsuru had. Of those that had entered here so many had died or worse and he had never thought there were so many things worse than death.
In his calm and controlled manner Kama cleaned blood off the edge of his blade.
A ninja endured all obstacles. A ninja didn't flinch under hardships. A Ninja made his way past the pain.
He was alone...
He had always tried his best for his team mates and they had been snaked out from under him, taken before he could move to save them then the thing had come after him.
The strange blood that was not blood stained the edge of his kama black no matter how hard he scrubbed at it.
To some the forest broke them but to others it fired their spirits like in a furnace to make them stronger...
Kama cupped the handle of the blade loosely in the palm of his hand and carefully runs his finger along the edge of the blade. A tool for bringing in a harvest, not a weapon and he still wanted to bring honor to its intended use.
He would do that by making his way out of the forest alive, the only Kusagakure candidate to do so.
Scars crisscross the back of his hands from his long training and his grey eyes are stormy. Dark red blood stains his long green coat from his recent wounds. The marks are irregular; jagged slashes as if from blades of all different sizes but shallow. The thing was fast but it is with little pride that Kama knows he was the only one fast enough to escape the deeper wounds.
The wound he had given it in return was a light one and it hadn't saved the lives of his teammates...
Kama was going to fix that at any cost.

Curling its hairy knuckles around the branches the hybrid grunts cheerfully as it hauls itself back into the soft grasses of the woven nest and drops two of the fine tuna it has caught to the wide branch below before digging its yellowing fangs into the flesh of the largest of the fish it has kept for itself.
It skillfully fillets the corpse with its stubby clawed paws and spits out the many small bones, twisting its head back at an angle that seems unnatural for its short neck and swallows the entire thing down to the yellow tinged tail.
The softly pulsating Genjutsu Seal carefully eradicates the smoke from the cooking fire; preventing it from being detected although the rich heavenly smell permeates every inch of air at the base camp.
Rather grumpily Yoru lies still against the thick tree branch where he had been thrown, watching the fish cook with an agonizing slowness as Taran obligingly rubs a healing ointment over the myriad of tiny wire cuts to prevent infection. The Puppet Master's own hands have an oily sheen of the ointment.
Although Taran has suffered far less cuts from the wires Yoru insisted on treating his wounds first, making some crude remark about how the Puppet Master wasn't as much fun without his hands that really just meant the half Uchiha didn't like to see Taran hurt and both of them knew it.
Carefully Arashi spits the two extra fish onto two straight long branches as holds them over her cooking fire where they hiss as they touch the hot coals.
She takes her own fully cooked meal by the charred handle and takes a bite.
Yoru's stomach rumbles audibly and he blushes as he looks away.
The fruit they had found had not actually been that filling in the end...
Taran grins and dab a bit of the ointment on the end of Yoru's nose, his way of reminding the team leader their own lunch will be ready soon enough.
Inwardly Yoru's seethes with anger at his stupid selfish brother and his cheap tricks. A future vessel of Orochimaru-sama should try harder than that to increase his potential instead of inefficiently sabotaging the competition.
"Taran, Arashi..." He says slowly and deliberately, already starting to lay the foundations for the plans ahead. "What do you say we pay back my dearest brother..."
"I don't think it would be wise..." Taran sort of mumbles, worrying more about actually passing the exam than getting back at Sero for something so petty. Not that he didn't think the younger Uchiha brother needed a good kicking where it hurt but that could be saved for the individual rounds.
"Nah lets do it, It'll be awesome." Arashi says as she hands over the cooked fish to the half Uchiha.
Yoru takes the fish and tears off a strip of its scaled skin.
"Great. Here's my idea..."
The dark haired Uchiha smiles a small smile. Very slowly he was getting used to a normal kind of happiness but still his usual happiness was small cruelties he could inflict on others in course of fulfilling the will of Orochimaru.

In his temporary den, a hollow of stone lined with fallen leaves that disguised him from predators, Sero enjoyed his own meal. The dark skinned catfish had pale milk colored eyes from their birth in the deep underground cavern lakes and were highly prized for the piquant taste of their flaky meat.
A rare delicacy enjoyed at Orochimaru's table on special occasions and it made Sero feel celebratory as he licked the last of the fish's juices from his fingers and stretched languidly; a lazing python after a solid feed.
Inwardly he is abuzz with various plans and schemes, already using what he knew about the remaining contestants to figure out the best way to harm them. Extortion, blackmail, kidnapping, such schemes were as an essential part of his artillery as his kunai.
The serpents he had smuggled in with the consent of his father flickered their bright red tongues in his ear as they whispered to him the secrets they had learnt.
His pale fingers stroked along the serpents muscled back as the fire burnt down to the last glowing embers.
Soon the sun would set and the night portion of the exams would begin. That would be the time for him to strike...

At his side Kotonii carefully picks apart her own catfish with a near clinical precision. The fish is indeed tasty and its oily flesh contains trace amounts of a poison, enough to aid in building immunity to far more deadly poisons and give it a powerful rich taste.
Rifuto waits with a ring of small but deep bleeding wounds around his bare arms from fishing with his bare hands for their dinner. The fishing technique he used involved dipping his fingers into the dark, almost completely black waters and wriggling them like worms until something tried to swallow them. He had ended up the bite marks from the catfish extending to his shoulders.
His eyes are perfectly blank and even though he has not eaten all day no hunger shows on his face. He will eat when Sero orders him to.
Smiling the half Uchiha beckons him over and rests a hand on the blank-eyed boy's shoulder, whispering a complicated order in the other's ear before running a finger over the bleeding rent caused by the catfish teeth. He is so completely under Sero's command that he doesn't even feel the pain. Feeling a faint flicker of what could have been pity Sero also orders him to eat.
At his lord's command Rifuto picks up a fish raw and devours it all, including the bones. The wounds Sero leaves to clot on their own rather than bother expending the flicker of chakra necessary to heal them.
He lays back against the bed of leaves, mentally keeping track of the passing time.
Only a few hours of the exam remained and Sero was content.
From outside comes a long drawn out dry throated roar that causes the half Uchiha to look up.
"Yeti." He states coolly, looking down at the dossier in front of him to reconfirm the information from Orochimaru's research.
As it said the bear and ape-like hybrid was one of the older of the artificially created creatures of the forest. Whatever secret lives the patchwork creatures lived in the treetops attacks on humans were very rare due to some shared racial memory of the pain of their creation. They were also surprisingly tolerant of what they thought of as children so they wouldn't bother him...
Except this one sounded rather aggravated.
Sero uses a curved fishbone to pick his teeth with as he mulls things over. He had been a good boy for this entire exam and he was sure the corpse of such an interesting creation would pacify his father after the theft of the scroll.
"Kotonii, Rifuto..." He says simply as he rises and draws the dull grey blade of his favorite dagger, the bright glimmer of chakra around its edge giving it the cutting edge of the finest scalpel.

Snuffling around the hybrid wrinkles its snout-like nose and draws back its lip from black gums in a snarl as sniffs at the air and picks up a new scent in the freshly trampled leaves. Its curved yellowing fangs show as it runs a pink tongue over its lips and falls forwards onto all fours to get a better fix on it.
Knuckling the ground with its longer forelimbs it blinks its light blue eyes, grunting under its breath as it picks up the unfamiliar scent on the crushed vegetation.
Still quizzical about its surroundings the Yeti snuffles around, moving with a surprising lightness of its muscle bound bulk.
It is only when it turns its head to the side it notices the shadowed figure that is slowly walking towards it.
It snarls, showing yellowed fangs and black gums as the dull orange fur of its back rises. When the figure does not back away a deep growl rises in its throat and it leans back on its powerful hind-legs, muscles coiling to spring into battle.It's black claws coil inwards as it roars its strange half and half dry throated bellow.
Snapping its brutal predator's jaws the hybrid leaps forwards, clearing the distance between them in a blink of an eye as it leaps. Its sharp fanged jaws open wide, the warm fetid scent of old meat wafting from the wide throat as its blue eyes gleam with bloodlust. The horrible scent of chemicals and fear lingering on the child's skin brings forth an ancient anger.
There is no fear in Rifuto's blank face.
Wires tied to his arms and legs are pulled tight by the fall, triggering the trap. A fine net of wire that glow with Chakra drops over the creature's shoulders and as the jutsu used in its creation activates the net suddenly becomes heavy enough to force the Yeti to its knees.
It roars and struggles as Sero approaches it with a smirk.
"Good boy." The Uchiha says, bright red flaring in his eyes as he tries to met the blue gaze of the creature to bend it to his will. Instead of it falling docilely under his control an equal blaze of red flares in its eyes and it bats the net aside.
"Yoru." Sero hisses in anger, leaping back away from a bone-crushing swipe of a paw and suddenly he finds his feet frozen in place by what appears to be vines of metal.
"Yo." Yoru says, leaping down to confront his brother. "Let's talk."
A loop of wire cuts the branch was standing on into equal sections as Rifuto twists free of the Yeti's grip to obey his primary orders to defend his Lord.
The two teams crash into battle.

The orange furred hybrid snaps at the air, snuffling as it clears Yoru's genjutsu from his head.Its blue eyes cannot see clearly through the chakra haze of fighting ninja and the dust they kick up around them. Its keen nose picks out the scents of strange metal amongst the flesh scents and curls its lips in disgust.
To it this display of supposed military 'might' is pathetic compared to the bone shattering brawls of its own kind.
Although it hadn't minded unduly about the genjutsu (if it did it would have been smashing Yoru into a tree trunk right now) this conflict is nothing it wants to be involved in.
In the fighting it picks up the scent of the girl and the metal stick that smelt of death and picks her up in a powerful one-handed bear hug, wrapping its other massive hand around a low-hanging tree branch and pulling them up out of danger.
A thrown dart of black metal, tip gleaming with dark purple poison, hisses past her face to bury its needlelike point into the bark of a nearby tree. Around the puncture wound in the bark veins of sickly yellow start to spread through the tree as the yeti scales it with Arashi still held in its arms.
It snorts warm breath in her face almost scornfully, as if questioning her taste in friends before opening its mouth wide, showing off each one of its pointed yellow fangs and its rough curled tongue.
"Arashi, going back to nest now." It says with a hint of snarl as if it is painful to move its jaw into the correct position to form the words. "Not going back to House of Pain."
Arashi falls silent for a bit in thought.
"You can talk very well. I didn't think you could talk." She eventually tells the hybrid as it swings up the tree trunk to gaze down at the battle below.
The yeti snorts in derision.
"Course can talk. Made from human parts."
"Your grammar isn't as good." Arashi points out. The hybrid's orange fur is coarse against his skin.
"You try complete sentences with face like this." The yeti says with difficulty, still contorting its jaw to get the words to sound right.
Arashi giggles and pulling back a dark lip from its yellow fangs the hybrid snorts and draws up a deep rasping growl from deep inside its throat that it takes a while for her to realize is laughter.

Moving through the air without even a hiss of movement the next one of the black metal darts flies towards the girl. She had barely had time to see the tiny fleck of blackness in the air let alone identify it before her view is blocked out by the hybrid's orange furred shoulder.
The dart itself is lost in the thick orange fur as the hybrid's strange animal laughter is cut off.
From around the wound spidering patterns of yellow trace their way from impact site, swiftly distributing the toxins through the creature's bloodstream.
With its muscled arms still around Arashi's shoulders its fingers suddenly lose feeling and with it their grip. Unbalanced by its own weight the yeti starts to fall and drags Arashi with it.
With a solid thud the hybrid hits the ground back first with an audible crack of fracturing spine. Its large hands rest across its chest, holding the girl pinned against his lighter furred stomach from the simple weight of his limbs. One leg has shattered at right angles.
Visibly the rate its chest rises and falls has begun to slow.
The Suna Kunoichi blinks in surprise at the sudden fall. Sheltered by the hybrid's powerful arms she has survived with little more than a few smarting bruises but the yeti's arm still draped across her shoulders has her pinned underneath it and from the stinging pain in her arm she knows her wrist has snapped. Although it must be lying near the hilt of the katana she couldn't draw it even if she wanted to.
"A...ra...s..." The hybrid manages to gasp out.
A trickle of red blood runs from its open jaw before the light leaves its eerily human blue eyes and it is dead, jaws still half open trying to pronounce the last syllable.

From a distance she can hear Yoru's cry to retreat and in the smoke hear a shifting sound of metal on metal as Taran and his puppets obey his direction.
She struggles to get up but, unable to brace herself on her broken hand, the weight of the dead yeti's arm on her is too much to shift and it squashes her flat against the creamy yellow furred chest.
Dark eyes look down at her and as she falls flat again Arashi twists her head up to see.
Beneath the panes of glass Kotonii's eyes are merciless. The darkness in her gaze speaks volumes her act of coy complacency never did as she raises the pretty purple silk fan she holds clutched in her left hand.
Looking much like an antique the purple fabric is decorated with painted designs of bright spring flowers but the spokes seem larger than usual. Poison tipped, each of the metal prongs is a dart the same as the one currently lodged in the yeti's shoulder.
Arashi's eyes darken but she does not tremble or attempt to plead for mercy and with a twitch of annoyance Kotonii doesn't bother gloating.
Instead in once graceful fan dancer's arch she snaps open the fan, flicks in around and snaps it shut.
Eight darts slam into Arashi's body, each one carrying enough deadly poison to kill a creature more than twice her size.
The yellow veins don't even have time to show on her skin before her heart stops beating and there are two dead of poisoning lying in each other’s arms on the battlefield.

In Kemurigakure there was a white poplar tree. Its bells cheerfully chimed to themselves as the paper tags waved and spun in the faintest of breezes in a pattern known only to themselves. The wind blow and the bells sounded a small dissonant chord.
The wind died down and the tree waited.

On the small area of dirt and cleared scrub the two faced each other, puppeteer to puppeteer.
The faintest breeze stirred the dry dust around their feet as the two waited for the signal, one burning for a victory and the other merely expecting it.
With a soft scraping sound a circle in the dirt was dragged around them by a bored looking Naginata, the dry dirt being moistened by the blood that still drips from her open wounds as she does so.
The other shinobi, the jonin and the few teams of students that remained, watched in a lifeless silence at the strangely corpse-like figures movements.
She turned with a whirlwind swiftness towards the nearest one, fixing bloody red eyes on the unfortunate man as she pulls herself up to her full height. Up close it is easier to see that the large mark of the Jashinist sign has not been simply tattooed on her face but that a chisel has been used to gouge the flesh and the thick scarred void has been filled with black ink. In the throes of her bloodied ecstasy when the traditional signs of her prayers appeared alongside it she was even more terrifying a figure.
The three blades of black still shoved straight through her body, dripping droplets of red on the dry straggly grasses, would have killed anyone else yet she stood before him with all the confidence of one truly unafraid to die.
"Find something amusing about me ********?" She snarls at the man.
Slowly the Min in the Konoha Headband blinks his golden slit pupil eyes and shrugs.
A faint smile twitches the corner of Naginata's lips.
"The same goes for the rest of you ********!" She turns to bellow at the other nin who tactfully try to avoid her gaze.
In the designated area Akira cups his head with his human hand in a clear gesture of despair while the Hokage tries not to laugh.
Finishing the circle in the dirt Naginata flops back down on the rock, laying back against the stone with her arms crossed behind her head. With a soft organic squelch the blades through her shift their positions. An indecent smile crosses her lips as she watches the two genin's squaring up to fight.
"Let the slaughter begin ********. Time to dedicate your bodies to the will of Jashin." She announces and waves a hand for the start of the battle.
"Please do not kill your opponent." Akira hurriedly states as he picks up the list of official rules for the battle and tries to ignore the flurry of inventive cursing from Naginata as she hears each one.

Face to face the two waited in the circle drawn in the dirt, a brief wind carrying a puff of dry dust across the few straggly green grasses between them.
Taran stood, hair and clothes dishevelled, face drawn and a gleam of healing salve still visible on the many shallow cuts that ringed his fingers with red.
Karakuri stood, no sign of exhaustion on his face but still cradling his bleeding shoulder in hand. The wound was far from shallow.
Akira's nervous voice stutters out the rules for the match; leaving the circle is an immediate loss, no outside assistance is allowed, exam proctors may step in to declare the battle over and the winner will be declared when one of the two is obviously defeated. His words are occasionally interrupted by a fresh barrage of insults and criticism from the irritable priestess now lying back casually in an expanding pool of her own blood.

Barely perceptibly Karakuri's gaze shifts to the side where his team mates wait on a grassier verge.
This was the true borders of Kemuri country, the fertile plains of the grass lands being where most of Konohagakure's farmers maintained fields all the way up to the great forest itself. Closer to the start of Kemuri's border forest the uneven and untended hills resembled the coils of a sleeping snake, growing turf on its body.
The white-blue lights from the hanging glass orbs reflect light off Wana's round lensed glasses.
He returns Karakuri's questioning gaze with a faint smile and mouths something in encouragement.
Taran knows without looking that if he did the same Yoru would offer him some encouragement too but he doesn't turn. Arashi's death had hurt him more deeply than he wanted to admit. Right now he felt he really needed the break before the third part of the exams to mourn. Being thrown into another fight barely ten minutes after his last disastrous battle...it was like dragging sandpaper over a fresh wound.
In the ice blue lights seemingly suspended in mid air like trapped stars this place seemed to have an almost supernatural air.
From the darkened silhouettes of the treeline a strange sound rent the midnight air.
A chorus of mournful howling filled the sleeping forest and sent shivers down the spine.
It was a song, sung without words but with a deep meaning that reached past comprehension to grip at the heart. The terrible loneliness it spoke of nearly tipped Taran to his knees, around the field of nin many of the others did fall for a few brief seconds, just feeling the pain of loss until as suddenly as it had started the strange bestial notes fade into the still and chilly air and the Suna Nin rises once again, his resolve hardened.

In his shelter Akira blinks his black compound eyes at the unusual sound of a Yeti Funeral.
With a swift flicker of motion and a puff of white smoke Taran summons his three puppets to his side with the all too familiar sound of wood chattering on wood.
Naruto nudges Akira, causing the scorpion man to flinch in surprise and drop his thermos flask of hot Cocoa. It clatters noisily to the floor and sprays the hot drink all over the Kemuri man's feet.
"I've seen those things in action before. Two bowls of ramen says you're guy's going to lose." The Hokage says confidently as he leans back.

A chill night wind passes across the circle, the soft silence it brings in its wake soon shattered by the creaking of the puppet's joints and an outburst of swearing from Naginata at the lack of action.
The puppets, still with the seal of Sasori of the Red Sand upon them, wait suspended and unmoving. The gleaming chakra strings attached to Taran's fingers are ready to register movement but he waits for his opponent to make a move.
Slowly Karakuri removes his hand from the slice that has been taken from his shoulder, his fingers stained black with the fluid that has dripped from the wound.
He makes the first hand sign of a summoning of his own and it is in that moment Taran strikes.
From Salamander's toothy jaws a thick column of jet black smoke spews out, billowing and concealing the entire area of the circle in seconds. Visibility is instantly reduced to zero in the thick cloud of poisoned fog.
Karakuri instantly abandons his hand signs to reach a hand into the side of his boot and pull forth a string of sharp edged kunai, each fine point shimmering with poison. Swiftly he hurls them through the air at the spot he last saw Taran standing in a formation that guarantees any one trying to leap out of the way of one blade is struck by another.
With a long drawn out ringing each blade bounces off another bit of metal, salamander's raised ruff, and falls to the ground useless.
The earth beneath his feet splits and two puppet hands clutch Karakuri's ankles, dragging him over onto his back. More puppet hands break the soil to pin his arms before he can form any hand signs, keeping the Kemuri Genin struggling against the hard packed dirt like a tortoise knocked on its back.
"You're quite something aren't you?" Taran says softly as he emerges from the thick smoke and kneels on the trapped Karakuri's chest. There's a genuine sort of admiration in his voice as he runs his fingertips in a rivulet of the dark fluid oozing from Karakuri's wounded shoulder.
It stains his fingertips black as the Suna nin carefully sniffs it. What runs from the Kemuri Nin's veins is not blood but a very high quality oil.
"A puppet designed to look completely human, you even have a pulse. I didn't think Kemuri had that kind of puppet making talent."
A pane of whiteness slipping over his eyes, the sign of all of Hideki's army of the Retrieved, and he struggles to activate his hidden mechanisms but Taran had been closely observing him for a long time and was not just arbitrarily kneeling on Karakuri's chest. A few ratchets click uselessly and thump gently into the Suna Nin's shins but as long as the pressure of the puppet master's knees is cutting off the flow of a few crucial cables he can't do anything. It is a critical flaw in the design of the Karakuri Ningyo but one that couldn't be addressed without taking him over the limit of 80% human, as Taran had known.
Strange shapes of metal boil and twist beneath the skin as Karakuri's body grows in an attempt to break free of his bonds but Taran has had more practise at holding on with his knees than he would ever admit and it takes a mere twitch of his fingers to adjust the separate pieces of Crow holding the Kemuri Nin down to adjust their grip.
Angrily the mechanism's white eyes start to flash with genjutsu but Taran's eyes are closed as he continues talking.
"Let's see here..."

Karakuri thrashes uselessly as Taran slides his fingers across the mechanical puppet's neck to the back of his head. Aside from being a bit cooler than usual, often the only sign that gave away one of Hideki's more carefully crafted Retrieved, the illusion of humanity was perfect.
"There we are."
With a soft click a section of skull slides back in Taran's hand. Though he never enjoyed it he had read of the processes used to create human puppets but this seemed to be taking it to illogical extremes just to allow the puppet to compete. Though what he holds in his hand is unmistakably a neat square section of human skull where the brain would be underneath his ticking gears.
Karakuri struggles all the more, his white eyes wide with panic. Again the metal thumps against Taran's legs, hard enough to bruise this time, but still prevented from making the connection it needs.
Carefully the Suna Nin runs his fingertips over the access panel he has found. Though he can feel cold metal it is set in warm, throbbing flesh. A strange kind of semi-organic clear lubricant from the turning gears sticks to his fingers and turns his stomach.
Though it made sense that this was how the puppet's mechanical mind was adjusted the systems used were unfamiliar to him until his fingers alight on the tip of a pane of metal, rectangular in shape, set into the skull itself.
"Here we are..."
Taran presses it and with a click the pane pops loose, the silver gears inside starting to slow in their rotations. The poison in the smoke does not bother him, there was no point in him using a toxin he wasn't already immune to, and, as Karakuri's struggles were still as vigorous as ever, there was some serious doubts as to whether the mechanism actually breathed. Most importantly it still served in concealing the scene from view. Though he felt pretty bitter he can't help but admire the guts of the Kemuri Nin who went to so much trouble to allow a mechanism to compete as a genin, the least he could do in return for the pleasure of dismantling the thing was to make sure the deception wasn't uncovered so soon.
Though Taran can't see it Karakuri's eyes widen in fear as the panel clicks free.
Leaving the pane where it lies, its many teeth no longer affecting the turning of the gears, Taran moves his fingers on to the tip of the next pane.
In desperation Karakuri raises up then slams down his head in a reckless attempt to crush his adversary's hand in the moving clockwork of his own brain.
The tips of the grinding gears graze some skin from the tips of Taran's fingers before he can pull them away.

Karakuri pants in exhaustion, a pool of spilt black oil running from his shoulder. Carefully Taran reaches out for the next pane, certain removing all three will be enough to switch the mechanism off.
"N-no." Karakuri protests and thrashes from side to side as best he can in an attempt to stop the Suna Nin.
Taran's fingers brush the second the pane.
"Stop it!" The mechanism hisses as the second pane is depressed inwards then pops back out.
The movements of the turning gears inside Karakuri slow further as, without the polished panes to correct any mistakes, his thoughts start to wander and strength drains from his veins with the dripping oil.
He barely struggles at all as the pane of white slips back from his gaze and Taran reaches for the third pane.
"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answerrrrrr t-t-ttttoooo..." With the last click of the final pane Karakuri's sentence cuts off as does any movement from him at all. The the steady drip of oil ceases. The silver gears stop turning, the sudden absence of the soft ticking noise harsh to Taran's ears.
Taran slides the access panel back into place, leaving the panes still hanging loosely from their slots, and tentatively stands.
The mechanism lays still where it has fallen, even the faint ticking that had first alerted the Puppetmaster to Karakuri's true identity completely silenced.
With a single hand sign Taran calls the poison back into Salamander's jaws and Crow reassembles itself before his eyes.
Ignoring the swearing of the Naginata who is loudly complaining that she missed everything he looks up into Kuromaru's mismatched eyes, softly tells the Proctor that Karakuri is unconscious and strides off to sit at Yoru's side.
Giri is the one who steps into the circle to picks up Karakuri's limp body, taking care to disguise the sight of the oil-dripping shoulder wound from sight as he carries the other boy back to Hideki and Wana.
All that remains in the circle is a small puddle of black oil.

Akira starts to applaud in a hopelessly optimistic kind of way. The entire fight, obscured from view since the first minute, showed nothing but the final defeat of one of his village's entrants without so much as a word being heard from the smoke. In the chilly midnight air the spectator's seemed equally chilly.
The hope that some of the other battles could stir up some good, old-fashioned fighting spirit and restore some dignity to the occasion seemed unfounded but still, as the temporary leader of this village, he was trying his best.
Naruto leans over once again, this time knowing better than to touch the jumpy Kemuri Nin.
"You owe me two bowls of Ramen."
At least the Hokage still seemed in high spirits, Akira thought gloomily as Naginata stood.
"O.k.that was really booooring" the priestess announces to the crowd. "Honestly puppet guy, I expected better from you when you've got an iron maiden already to go but never mind. The next fight, and may you please Jashin better, will be..." Once again Naginata spins around and randomly points out two Genin from the crowd. "You two."
With a sigh Akira once again consults his forms.
"Next battle: Shizuka Keitiki vs Kurogane Murumasa. Will both contestants please enter the ring?"

As Keitiki, loudly proclaiming she was going to win, and the almost bored looking Kiri swordsman stepped into the ring Wana bent over his fallen comrade, hiding him from view as he carefully opened up the access panel once more and swiftly began to slot the panes back into their proper places.
Impassively Hideki watches as, slowly, a spark of life starts to re-kindle in the mechanical puppet's eyes.
He remembered little more than strange flashes of images; a horse struggling against its tether, the chunks of grey falling stone shattering around him, the sensation of falling and, high above him, a caravan moving along the mountain pass.
Then there was nothing but blackness, blackness pressing all around him.
There was a click and blackness became light.
"His eyes look operational." A voice said. "I'm going to try and bring the rest of him online."
He could move his head now to find the source of the voice and saw a face twist into a smile.
"Can you hear me? You fell off a cliff so I'm not sure how much of you is still working."
Tentatively he remembers how to nod and the face smiles again. It appears to have big bits of shining glass instead of eyes but he can't remember if that is normal or not.
Carefully he raises his hand to his head and feels the plate of metal against his skin.
"You got pretty torn up on the rocks but Hideki-sensei taught me how to fix you!" The voice says cheerfully.
The man standing in the corner of the room with the blank-eyed stare and the metal arm is looking at him too. Hideki remembers the weeping child bringing in the tattered corpse of the boy dead from falling off the high mountain pass and begging the blind man to fix him.
That had been some months ago.
"I'm afraid some of your memory might be gone." The glass-eyed thing says as it takes his hand. "But it's o.k. because we can make some new memories together because you're all mine! Hideki-sensei says I can look after you and train you and fix you if you get broken and we're going to have so much fun together!"
The memory fades in a flash of white light as the last panel clicks into place and the gears in Karakuri's repaired brain once again begin to whirr.
"-eyes seem operational...Are you alright?" Wana asks him as Karakuri's ears once again begin to work and in response the mechanical puppet wraps his arms around the skinny genin's shoulders, trying to convey without words the horror of the feeling of having someone else pulling his strings.

In Kemurigakure there was a white Poplar Tree. Its branches twisted and writhed like snakes as it was struck by a sudden, violent gust of wind. One slim twig snapped off entirely, the silver bell chiming sorrowfully as if bounced off the patch of mossy ground and rolled to a standstill. The wish inscribed on the paper tag fell, unanswered, into the dirt.

A single plucked string sends a sharp note vibrating through the air, the twang of the plaited hair mimicking the twang of tension in the air.
Through the distance that separated them Sero can feel the intensity of his father’s golden gaze upon him and it makes him tighten his grip on the kunai he holds in hand. He realizes how important it is to win these battles in preparation for a far more serious fight later on. If he was beaten now, before he got to face his brother, Orochimaru might see about finding another heir to grant him the place at his side. No matter what he could not be seen to be inferior to Yoru.
Still with so many eyes upon him he also could not risk using his sharingan, displaying the Uchiha Clan's thrice cursed Kekkai Genkai to the Hokage who had fought those who bore it would cause unnecessary trouble for his father.
However with the training he received he was far from helpless without his dojutsu, in fact he had been taught how to fight completely blind if his sight was ever targeted.
For this battle he would have to win on merits of his jutsu alone.
His opponent didn't even stand to face him, taunting the Uchiha with each twang of a meaningless note on his instrument.
Sero is torn between considering the apparent vulnerability of the bandaged Kemuri Nin a potential trap and thinking the hapless bard easy prey.
Biwa wouldn't even make eye contact with him but whether it was nervousness or prudence was hard to judge.
Sero smirks and, as soon as the battle is officially started, he leaps into action.

As soon as Biwa put plectrum to string Sero hurled a kunai towards him.
The Kemuri Nin ducks his head, first to one side than the other so the blades whistle harmlessly past him, all the while picking out a rapid tune on the stringed instrument he holds in both hands.
Flicking another blade into his palm, this time a straight bladed dagger like that he had used to threaten Yoru, Sero aims to close the distance between them before his opponent can finish enough of a chord to put him under a genjutsu.
Unlike the sound jutsu of any of his father's subordinates the rapidly plucked tune does not distort his view with genjutsu (even without activating his sharingan he could determine if a genjutsu was beginning) nor summon any creature with its tones. In fact the high pitched jittery tone is little more than very irritating.
Giving in to his anger Sero twists the dagger blade around and slices down.
Biwa swiftly ducks.
The silvery blade slices free a few strands of dark hair but still he keeps playing.
Sero slashes again and as rapid as he tries to make the blade strike it merely cuts free the end of a trailing bandage strip.
The Bard's dark eyes look up at him, any expression on his face unreadable beneath the layers of bandage over his mouth.
Sero raises his blade to slice again and realizes with a dawning horror a trickle of blood has started to drip from his left ear.
The ivory plectrum dances faster across the strings, the song having deeper effects than it is possible to recognize on the surface.

Touching the thin stream of red that oozes from his ear Sero leaps backwards and pulls out a long string of sharp bladed kunai held together with wire. At regular intervals along the wires are paper tags that glow at the ends and start to ignite.
Carefully the Bard's bandaged fingers pick out one note in a higher scale from the rest of the tune as the blades are thrown towards him.
With a cloud of flame, smoke and metallic shrapnel first one tag ignites and then the others along the string in a series of explosions that make a sound like rolling thunder.
Still the irritating tune plays on and the smoke calms to show the cross-legged Kemuri Nin still in the same place in the circle with fragments of metal still around him.
'So the higher note triggers a defensive shield of some sort...the shield’s radius doesn't seem to be more than half a meter but he chose to dodge my earlier attacks.' Sero muses, analysing his opponent's strange jutsu as deeply as he could. 'The shield must use a lot of chakra...'
For a few seconds he watches Biwa's fingers dance on the strings.
From the other end of the circle the bleeding in his ears has slowed considerably.
'While dangerous at close quarters the purpose of that song is to irritate me, enrage me into getting close enough to be hurt by it...And with his shielding technique a range attack will turn this into a battle of stamina.'
Sero decides to end this quickly and draws up the chakra inside him for a genjutsu technique.

The illusion he chooses is not one that relies on his sharingan but rather one that he has mastered through it.
Focusing his chakra just behind his eyes he tries to meet the Bard's gaze but Biwa, in what would be an example of poor ninja form in anyone else, is looking down at his instrument without paying heed to his opponent at all.
Sero grinds his teeth. Even if it wasn't as harmful the song was certainly irritating.
"You think you're such a big shot don't you?" Sero calls out mockingly. "Hiding behind a toy like that."
His taunt works and Biwa raises his head swiftly in anger.
"The Biwa is not...a...toy..." His sharp tone trails off as his black eyes meet Sero's.
With a strange flicker the fight seems to leave Biwa's body and his dark eyes dilate as he finds himself immediately drawn into Sero's genjutsu.
'Checkmate.' Sero thinks triumphantly as he draws another dagger.
Operating more on muscle movement than anything else as his mind is drawn in by his opponent's genjutsu Biwa's playing slows down, the tune dying away as the plectrum plucks listlessly at a few strings more and more slowly until his arm finally falls still.

Sero reverses his dagger into a stabbing grip as the song is silenced and he darts forwards to bring the blade down on the musician's precious instrument.
It is the shock of that rather than the impeding threat to himself that snaps Biwa out of his genjutsu stupor.
Swiftly one bandaged hand flicks up and grips Sero's wrist. With a smirk Sero flicks his wrist a fraction and lets go of the dagger. Biwa swiftly pulls his instrument out of the way and the metal blade instead sinks into his thigh.
He winces and tries to toss Sero aside.
The pretend Konoha Genin breaks out of the one-handed throw easily, landing back on his feet and the edge of the circle. Biwa is desperately trying to keep him at a distance.
'How sad...' Sero thinks as he draws yet another knife. This one gleams oily with a poisoned edge. 'In a different arena he might have even been a fun opponent'
As if recognizing his opponent's thoughts Biwa's playing suddenly changes tune.
The bleeding of his ears stops entirely as does Sero's irritation. The swift Uchiha charges towards him once again, this time more slowly than before as if mocking his opponent's inability to adequately defend himself.
The large wound in the Kemuri nin's thigh leaks red blood onto the bare earth as he grips his plectrum firmly and gets serious.
The song he plays would be considered a forbidden jutsu in any other village. Even at midnight the first few notes of it seem to make the light blue lit circle darker and colder.
Sero tosses his dagger straight at the Bard's hands but it never reaches them.
A few feet in front of Biwa it meets some sort of strange disturbance in the air, the metal blade becoming pulled and strangely elongated as it twists into a spiral and disappears into the strange black singularity that hovers over the battlefield.
"Paradichlorobenzene..." Biwa mutters under his breath with a smile.

At the Hokage's side Akira tenses against his chair, his human nails inadvertedly digging into the varnished wood.
"Nervous?" Konohagakure's leader says wearily.
Even beneath his black sunglasses Akira looks tense.
"Bards are strange people. The...summons that rely on them, well, they are just..." Unable to find the words to adequately describe it Akira waves his arms in the air.
"Strange?" Naruto suggests, taking a sip of his fresh bowl of Ramen.
"A lot of Bards are in a dark, dark place to communicate with them." Akira mutters under his breath as he takes a sip of his fresh thermos of hot chocolate. The Broodling that had been sent up with it from the tunnels shivers in the cold and curls up close to her father for warmth.

The strange disturbance in the air splits open before Sero can draw another dagger.
Driven on by the new tune Biwa is determinedly playing something emerges from it. The closest thing it could be likened to is branching lines that look like they have been scribbled on the fabric of reality with red crayon.
With some horrible feeling of attention the strangely unreal lines scribble themselves closer to Sero, branching and spreading out into a growing net of the strange redness.
The air seems to bend around them as Sero tries to parry one darting line with his dagger.
As the metal edge meets the strange redness and starts to distort. The blade is drawn forwards into the fuzzy edge of distorted air that hangs around the red strip and is drawn towards it.
Sero manages to let go of the dagger just as the strange force yanks the blade from his grasp. The dagger twists fluidly into a strange silvery spiral of metal that dissolves into the line of red, twisting unnaturally into a spiral of metal that seems to be moving further and further off into the distance without moving.
A sharp note is struck on the biwa and the lines dart forwards with an unprecedented speed as they curl up and fracture into branches.

Sero takes a step backwards, feeling his foot brush the line in the dirt and formed the hand signs for a jutsu.
Fire Style: Fire ball jutsu
Inhaling and building up chakra inside him he ignites the breath as he exhales into a burning fireball of impressive size. As soon as it touches the lines the same thing happened to it as happened to his daggers; the entire ball of flame distorts and is sucked away in a twisted spiral of flames that burns brightly as it is dragged away but does no harm to the thing that seems to have no flesh to burn.
Still frantically playing a disturbing tune the biwa's music seems to echo from everywhere, less of controlling the red lines attack than merely accompanying it.
Sero tries to form hand signs for another jutsu and finds the red lines scribbling themselves up beside him in a strangely jagged mockery of life that twines in ways reminiscent of a hand if the flesh and bone was stripped away to leave nothing more than a net of veins.
As a sudden note is struck the lines lengthen all at once, scribbling their bloody red way through reality with the speed of a striking snake to wrap their branches around Sero's legs and arms, a line of red following the curve of his spine as it lashes around and into him.
Sero is being torn apart, feeling each arm and leg being unstoppably pulled in opposite directions and lengthening as they begin, unstoppably, to bend into spirals that are being dragged further and further apart. His body is being twisted entirely out of shape as it is stretched in opposite directions, his entire form beginning to twist into unnatural curves.
He screams and even his scream begins to spiral around him.

Sparks of red ignite in his eyes and Sero is returned to the circle of dirt with Biwa still in front of him, the bard's eyes closed as he plucks out his rapid genjutsu song.
Still seeing the faintest hints of red lines passing across his vision as the carefully calibrated notes cause fearful hallucinations as they are registered by the ear, Sero's never very large supply of patience is entirely used up. He has another four daggers concealed on his person, not counting those he has haphazardly flung in his imagined battle but draws none. Instead he charges straight towards the Bard.
Biwa misses a note in surprise that someone had managed to break the illusion of the Spiralling Path and the last few traces of the red lines fade from Sero's sight.
The ivory plectrum plucks at strings with a redoubled urgency, the discordant unpleasant tune that bursts forth from the instrument at a pitch barely audible by humans.
Sero feels his knees start to fall from under him as the Bard's song sends his leg muscles into spasms but his anger drives him on the last few steps to send his balled up fist firmly into Biwa's bandaged jaw.
The Bard is roughly toppled from his sitting position, his ivory plectrum flying from his fingers.
It seems to hang in mid-air for a moment as the startled Kemuri Nin is firmly tackled to the ground, his bandaged limbs pinned by Sero's Taijutsu. His precious instrument is brutally torn from his bandaged fingers and tossed aside.
The seasoned wood bounces hollowly on the ground before it rocks to a halt beside the fallen plectrum.
Sero drives another punch into the now defenceless Bard's face with a savage glee, knowing the battle is technically now over but enjoying paying the Kemuri Nin back for his little tricks.

Akira sits up straighter, the multicoloured patchwork blanket slipping across his legs, as he tries to announce the end of the fight in another disappointing defeat for Kemuri.
Naruto, looking far from proud at the behaviour the Genin from his Village is displaying, merely sighs.
The child is not one he has seen much of, despite his best efforts to communicate with the people of his village. While a lot of the changes had been positive, the scum of some old-fashioned but long established traditions had started to float to the surface. The Hyuuga Clan in particular was still giving him trouble, knowing how busy he was stopped him from actively confronting them on many issues. While the Will of Fire lived on there wasn't a spark of it in this year’s Konoha entrants and he knew it...
"And the winner of the match of Hebiken Sero vs Gagaku Biwa..." Akira starts to announce from afar.
Sero leans in close to the Kemuri Nin, the Bard's dark eye staring up at him from the small gap in the bandages.
Whatever fight had been in him had been lost with his biwa. Even now his hungry gaze was drawn towards the fallen instrument where it lay with dirt obscuring the pretty patterns inlaid on it. In Sero's hand shone a straight bladed dagger, a swift swipe and he could have cut his opponent's throat and yet there was no fear in his gaze.
Sero's experiences caused by the bard's curiously powerful tunes have unhinged him, scratched the calm mask he projected to reveal the angry hell inside him. He deserved to be feared!
Naginata leans closer, crossing her fingers behind her back in hopes of blood.
Sero's voice drops into a low poisonous whisper than only he and his prisoner could possibly hear clearly.
"Let's see what you look like then..."
Biwa's eye doesn't even have time to widen in shock before Sero slashes the dagger blade across the layers of bandage that cover his face.
The split cloth slides free as the Kemuri nin tries to lift up his arms and cover himself from sight. Sero grabs his hands and is surprised to see, amongst the ragged ends of split bandage, a face he recognizes from the history books. The shock is enough for him to let go of the bard's hands and allow him to cover his face as the Kemuri Nin starts to scream.

"I didn't even nick you." Sero snorts derisively, deciding the clone takes nothing after the original if he overreacts in such a way.
The sound of splintering wood alerts him to the fact that the leader of Kemuri has shattered his chair as his insect claw grips too tight around it. Through the black lenses glasses his expression was impossible to tell but the eyes of every Kemuri Nin fix on him with a look of mingled disgust and horror, not just the eyes of the genin's but every Kemuri Nin present.
Biwa's screaming becomes mingled with desperate sobs of terror as he struggles to cover his face from the audience, tears showing through his tightly laced fingers. He makes to attempt to stand or recover his instrument as he simply cries out loud in the horror of what has happened to him.
Sero takes a step away from Biwa and the eyes follow him with a searing hatred in their gaze. Simultaneously a stirring comes over all of the Kemuri Genin's. Even the not fully functional Karakuri puts aside his strange jealousy of the bard to go to his aid with the rest of the genins. The battle is not officially over as all the Kemuri Nin swiftly come to Biwa's aid.
Not one of them so much as looks in Biwa's direction as hide him from view as they kneel in a circle around him, respectfully showing their backs as they offer what gestures of comfort they can to the sobbing bard.
Even cheerful Keitiki's eyes are hardened by an immense hate as all the Kemuri genins watch Sero with equal hatred in Sazae's brown eyes as there is in Giri's light pink ones.
'You will pay.' their gaze says without speaking. 'We will make you pay.'
Made uncomfortable by the prickling sensation of so many eyes upon him Sero silently returns to his 'sensei's' side and tries in vain to hide behind the black-haired jonin without looking like he's hiding.
A pale hand rests on his shoulder and squeezes it.
Even though Orochimaru's stolen face gives away nothing of his true emotions Sero feels that somehow his father is disappointed in his actions.
But what exactly had he done that was so bad?

Akira's entire body shakes as the pointed shapes of the curse mark crawl over his body and he grits his human teeth tightly. Second by second he has to fight the dark roaring voice of the beast inside of him. His claw shatters his seat in his anger as Akira forces himself not to leap into the circle and tear the cocky little b*****d into bloody bite sized pieces.
His long tail twitches with desire to sting and see the child fall with foam oozing from his lips as the venom drove him to insanity.
In an emotional fugue the Kemuri Nin twists as he tries to temper his rage with logic, tearing apart and eating a genin of another village was bad diplomacy.
"Hold me back." He growls through his teeth at his offspring and in their fear they rush to obey as their father fights internally for control.
His scorpion claw opens and shuts with desire for its sharp points to dig into something, his tail twitches spasmodically as if stinging an invisible adversary before him. His two children, while in possession of formidable physique of their own, struggle to restrain him with their coils as Akira swears in the high pitched chattering of a desert scorpion and tries to lunge forwards.
Letting his anger out in a display of bestiality he tries swiftly and soon stops struggling to break free as the twining marks of the curse mark retreat back across his skin and he regains control of himself.
Slumping backwards into his broken chair Akira exhales and waves aside the Hokage's concern for his brief but violent outburst.
"I need to have a little talk with that genin."
Without waiting for the Hokage's permission Akira stands, the multicoloured patchwork blanket lying abandoned on the floor as he sets off across the grassy verge.
The bard, his face re-bandaged but still a shaken hollow shell of the boy who had stepped foot in the circle moments before, is carefully led by Wana and Giri back into the darkened trees, the darkness soothing his wounds as he is led towards a healer...

Strangely familiar golden eyes fix on the Scorpion Man as he approaches and a trickle of fear runs down the Kemuri Nin's back, further diluting his rage.
Akira's original plans to simply drag away Hebiken Sero for a private conversation wither and die in the face of the golden eyed glare.
"May I please borrow Sero for a moment?" The future Kemurikage asks with a sudden politeness as his curled tail lowers itself in a gesture of servility.
Though he has no idea why the Konoha Jonin intimidates him so the curse mark still raised and pulsating on his shoulder recognizes the chakra of the one who had placed in there and sends the appropriate thoughts of fear and obedience through his body.
The Jonin nods consent and roughly shoves Sero forwards as the bandaged Kemuri Nin leads the younger boy away from the hateful eyes of the Kemuri Genins to where they can talk privately.
Sero struggles to keep a sneer off his face at one of his father's failed experiments (he had noticed the distinctive markings crawling over the Kemuri nin when he had lost his temper) acting like he had any authority over Orochimaru's heir.
"Tell me...what do you know of the bards?" Akira asks with a tone of false casualness.
Sero shrugs dismissively.
"They're wussy clones with powerful justu? Sorry your genin lost the fight Kemurikage-sama but it was a fair battle and I was just the better fighter."
Akira sighs at the boy's arrogant ignorance.
"Revealing a Bard's identity by force, as you have just done, is counted in Kemurigakure as an act of Aggravated Sexual Assault." He tells Sero bluntly, his voice losing its cheery cast. "Being an outsider you are diplomatically immune from punishment on the grounds of Ignorance of Kemuri's Customs but I'll tell you this for free, if you were affiliated with any village less powerful that Konoha I would tear you apart right now."
His voice a low menacing hiss Akira's scorpion claw snaps shut beside Sero's face, its inside surface covered in curled spikes the size of tiger's teeth.
"From now on every single entrant Kemuri has in this exam will try to kill you and some of them won't even bother to make it look like an accident. They will hunt you out for the pleasure of revenging themselves on you and no matter where you hide you will never be safe from them, hell, if they catch you alive they probably won't even kill you on the spot but afford you the agonies of the Festival of Blood like no outsider has felt for generations because you, stupid vain child, just publically raped one of their number in front of the representatives of every ninja village in existence. If you stay in this exam they will kill you." Akira tells him in a malevolent rapid whisper as he leans closer in towards Sero, the boy's face a tiny reflection in his obsidian black glasses, tail arching over his back with beads of pearly venom dripping from its needle-like point. He looms in the strange light, looking more than willing and capable of following through on his earlier threat.
Under the pale blue orb lights Sero's face looks markedly more pale than usual as he swallows dryly.
Leading him back towards the circle of dirt Akira straightens up, his voice once again bearing a bitter tone of mock cheer as he shoves Sero back at his sensei's side.
"Good talking to you."

Naginata's hand trembles with rage as she grips one her black blades so firmly it cuts straight through her palm to ooze red over its tip.
Kuromaru, a similar anger in his emerald coloured eye, watches her closely for any signs of sudden violence.
In the Jashinist Preistess's other hand she tightly clutches her rosary of dark bloody red beads, each made from the concentrated fluids of a particularly worthy opponent and raises the sign of her religion, the circle and inverted triangle, towards her forehead.
Lust was a sin. It was a great sin that required cleansing from the body to understand the true meanings of pain. Such violent lust was not the way of Jashin, it bore no divine purity of true devotion but the animal taint of petty desires. Those unclean ones required a lot more cleansing than purer souls but after such a display Naginata's impulse is not to attack the child with the sharp blades so close at hand but to give him a greater punishment in staying her hand, just this once. Such a person who would reveal a bard's face in such a manner was unworthy of the mercy of a Jashinist blade.
His blood would be unclean, the promising look of violence in his eyes a mere mockery in a brutish soul without higher concerns.
Bards were of a cruder and less pure sect than she was but they obeyed certain tenants of Jashinist Commandments to such a level Naginata encouraged their eventual growth into her circle of disciples, they partook in no mortal sins and suffered only the weakness of attachment to their bloodied music. Abuse to one enrages her.
The child would suffer, yes, he would suffer to be raised up.
There but for the grace of Jashin, go I...Naginata thinks sorrowfully and without enthusiasm picks out the next two contestants.
Hopefully they will bring some redemption.
Moodily returning to his seat Akira makes the announcement.
"Next match: Yoru vs Kotori."

In Kemurigakure there was a white poplar tree, its slender branches extending upwards to the rising sun as the faintest breeze rattles the delicate twigs high in the tree’s top. A silver bell tinkled once and then fell still, the white paper of its prayer falling still against the papery white leaves.

She scuffed the uneven line gouged into the dry earth as she stepped over it, her ebony coloured eyes fixed on her opponent rather than the area they were to battle in. Immediately she regretted it, feeling that blurring the boundaries of their battle may have some unforeseen effect.
A metallic taste lingered at the back of her throat, feelings of disgust and hatred after seeing her teammate’s treatment still poisoning her blood. Even in battle against the Mizu Nin, a team that had proven to be competent enemies, she couldn’t drag her thoughts from the look of horror on Biwa’s face. The Bard was catatonic now, his face roughly rebound in bandages that did as much to heal his true injury as putting a band-aid on a stab wound. It was best that he had some sleep.
Inwardly she dwells on the depths of skill her other teammate has displayed with equal amounts of jealousy and surprise. Had she never mentioned her clan name before? Sazae can’t recall and feels embarrassed. For all the talking she had done she had never really learnt anything about Sazae.
That feeling then gave way to determination as her opponent entered the circle and took a defensive stance.
She could not be the one that lost here. The honour of their village was too important.
Akira stands to announce the next fight. She is second to last and after the fights that have gone before hers is unlikely to be remembered. Compared to the others who had tried to take leadership of the village he seems jittery and unstable, his animal display of anger at the treatment of one of his students a terrifying sign of what kind of power Kemuri housed. As a citizen Sazae knew that he hadn’t been the first choice to lead the village, merely instated as a place holder until proper negotiations were done but privately she thought he was doing a better job of it than any of the candidates she had seen.
Underneath the protective covering of bandages she flexes her fingers in preparation for the start signal.
It was kind of ironic that the Hokage be here, her battle techniques were based around that of another well-known Konohagakure Hokage.

The Mist Genin has a serene calmness about her, an air that all the Mist candidates had possessed that suggested that the upcoming battle was going to be as much entertainment as serious business. The one girl in the group of three was slimmer than her comrades and shorter. She defiantly did not have the build of a Taijutsu fighter, unlike Sazae but there seemed to be no weapons beside the standard hidden in her blue flowing robe. Her long hair was as dark as Sazae’s and her skin paler, giving her the appearance of a drowned spirit.

The Kemuri Kunoichi smacks one bandages fist into her palm in a sign of readiness, taking a position that meant her weight was off her feet for swift movement.
“Ready…Begin!” Akira announces and Sazae touches her fingertips to the black seals inked on the underside of her bandages, summoning a row of shuriken. Hagoromo rapidly forms hand signs for a water style technique, looking down as opposed to at her opponent.
Feinting to the right Sazae hurls the metal stars straight at her opponent but instead of blocking the Mist Nin ducks under the barrage, leaving the shuriken to hiss harmlessly out of the circle and continues swiftly forming her hand signs.
Sazae abandons her usual weapons for close combat, not wanting to find out what jutsu required so many hand signs.
Her chakra grows inside her as she focuses the flow of the shimmering energy, concentrating it in her fist as she draws back to punch.
The final hand sign is formed and every drop of spare moisture in the circle is drawn forward by the Water Style technique to protect Hagoromo. Extending a few inches out from her material body a whirling vortex of swiftly rushing water surrounds the shape of her body in a shield of swiftly flowing current.

Tiny droplets fly, gleaming like diamonds in the air as Sazae’s punch hits, even the chakra enhanced blow unable to knock more than a few drops from the rapidly moving water defence. In mid-flight the droplets are drawn back towards the shield as if by magnetic attraction.
The rushing water is moving too swiftly to be disturbed for long and its constant motion makes it difficult to hit. The layer Sazae has managed to penetrate covers a swifter moving undercurrent in the jutsu, visible for only a fraction of a second before it is repaired. The fast moving flow shreds the bandages from her knuckles and starts to remove skin before Sazae manages to withdraw her hand.
The shield of rushing water condenses down from its full body covering, allowing Hagormo to see as she manipulates the cocoon of water into three crescent shaped blades of flow that hover around her.
Sazae swears under her breath in a language most would be surprised to know she knew and clutches her wounded fist to her chest. A few droplets of blood ooze from her knuckles to the ground as she flings another handful of shuriken.
The swift blades of water dart up to meet them, the cleanly severed halves falling around Hagoromo as she steps forwards towards Sazae.
Sazae backs away, trying to find a prime position to strategize and one the crescent blades uncoils and gouges a line in the dirt at her feet.

Determinedly Sazae charges forwards, moving swiftly to avoid the darting whips of water and moving around the circumference of the dirt circle as she tries to strategize.
From the signs on the underside of her bandages she summons an explosive, the lit fuse already stuttering into life and tosses it straight for the Kiri Nin’s face.
One blade of water is already darting up when the explosive detonates into a wide cloud of fire and black smoke. The blade spreads out to contain the threat, changing from a tight line of near ice to a thinner and slower moving shield to absorb the blast. The heat is killed but Sazae can see some of the smoke has penetrated.
So that is her opening.
“So that’s your skill, controlling water like that?” She says conversationally as she makes her final attack plan. “That’s pretty special.”
“It is my Kekkai Genkai.” Hagoromo says with a soft smile. Sazae isn’t fooled, the robe of water will shred flesh that comes close enough to touch it and the reserves of chakra needed to control the technique must be enormous.
Sazae grips the knot of her bandages, ready to uncurl them from her arms. People though she wore them in mimicry of the bard…
“I’m pretty special too.”

Simultaneously she pulls off the bandages and charges forwards, building up her chakra in both fists as she darts towards Hagoromo. Her bandages unravel behind her, streaming like white ribbons.

With first her right she punches at the shield of water, sending a faint mist like spray of droplets airborne as she pummels a dent into the barrier.
The first crescent shield breaks and Hagoromo immediately sends the other two up to fill in the gap in her defences in the cocoon of water.
The cloth continues to unwind behind her.

“I am Sazae.” She says, teeth gritted with determination. A powerful blow with her right hand breaks through the barrier of whirring water than would shred human flesh and she forces her fingers into the gap.
The fast flowing water is like a power sander on her skin.
Instead of pale skin that hand is covered in tiny interlocking plates of caramel brown shell.
“My father is Hoseki, my grandfather is Akira and I..know…how to control it!”
A clear fluid oozes from the insect fist as the bandages fall away completely. With a pulse she sends her chakra into the caramel coloured plates and gets them to grow into long spines like the .
Sazae punches hard, missing Hagoromo but grazing her cheek with the long spines that grow along the curves of her arm, making it look like a turban shell.
Focusing her ancestral powers she forces the armour of her arm to grow into the breach, the brown plates twisting around each other to resist the flowing force of the water and shatter the shield into a rainbow spray of mist.
Sazae sways on her feet, too drained of chakra to strike the final blow. She gulps down air, trying to keep her concentration as Hagoromo stands and draws a kunai.

The poison of injected through the half Broodling’s spines takes effect at the same time the exhaustion takes its toll and the two collapse within a second of each other.
The battle is ultimately declared a draw.