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The Celestial Fist II: The Dueling Dragons

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  • The Celestial Fist II: The Dueling Dragons

    On the last episode of the Celestial Fist II: The Kraken's Wrath

    The Celestial Fist II (p2)

    /The Dueling Dragons/

    Deep within the woods of Seirei no Shima, the Island of Spirits, there were two figures of impressive stature and power. They moved with a quickness and fervor, the taller of the two slashing at trees as they passed them--they moved erratically but with focus and their focus seemed to be on leaving a bread trail.

    A foolish errand on an island that served as a cage for demons.

    The two held great power and they lacked the fear that came with being powerless. Whether from comfort, confidence or conceit the duo were in their element on the Island of Spirits. They looked young, determined and battle hardened--shaped by a world of violence and destruction. The shinobi world was a callous one and glory often came with gore and was garnished with death. Even then, there was one thing that had shook that world of violence and death and murder and deceit to it's very core.

    The power of the bijuu.

    "We waste time Baekho! We're no quicker to finding Sanshiro and the false dragon! Is that tiger leading you astray?"

    "Nyah! The tiger remains caged Qing-chan! This is a Baekho production! Hee-hee~!"

    "What? But how do you expect to search for these men without the beast's senses?"

    "Ho-ho~! Why so concerned Qing-chan? It's almost out of character!"

    "I'm not concerned about you--I'm concerned about our search!"

    "He-he~! You still don't get it Qing-chan, we're not searching for them..."

    "Then what are we doing?"

    "We're making them search for us!"


    The Fist was on edge.

    The jungle was not the most welcoming of places, Fist was a true city slicker. He enjoyed Konohagakure which remained an iconic metropolis with a small town feel and he vacationed in Metsubishi where the beer was cold, the weather was warm and the women were everything in between. This was of course as far from a vacation as could be and he looked the part as he slashed away the brush with his sword and stared at the shorter caramel skinned man behind him.

    "This some bullshit and shit."

    Battle hadn't effect his speech...

    It had effected his appearance.

    Shirtless and still barring the wings he had grown on the ship that had brought them here, his belt holding his tools and the sheath for his katana, his pants bloodied and dirty. A Leaf headband tied to his forehead. Still, not a bead of sweat coated his body, the Celestial Body regulating his temperature with a natural and instinctual skill. His mind was working much harder than his body...

    Masakage had dared Sanshiro to come to Spirit Island, he had dared him to stop the mad man from turning his own unborn child to a demon vessel. The Sanada enemy was far too chaotic to be trusted with that power and his vested interest in the destruction of his kin made this a personal mission for Fist. Hitoko, a Sennin from Sand, had vowed to assist Fist in bringing an end to his traitorous uncle's scheme.

    The Dragon Emperor had called Masakage's bluff just as willing as The Fist had.

    It was only after facing the Jinchuriki Huyen Vu that Fist began to think, in the refuges and corners of his mind, that perhaps he was in over his head. Perhaps it had been foolish to simply walk into his enemies trap.

    But did he know any other way but to face what was in front of him with a tenacity and resolve that could ignite a bottle rocket and send it to the moon? Hitoko was of a similar ilk.

    If you were gonna fight, you should do it with a dragon at your side and you should do it all the way.

    "You see that ahead? Those claw marks--third of the sae type I've seen, that's a trail if I ever saw one...which, uh, I think I just did and shit."

    He blinked uneasily.

    He sheathed his blade, his wings stretched...

    "You feelin' lucky Dragon?"

    Don of the Sanada Family
    Leaf & Grass Lieutenant

    Let's end the speculation, I'm talkin' to all of y'all
    Males shouldn't be jealous, that's a female trait
    What, you mad �cause you push dimes and he sell weight?
    Y'all don't know my expenses, I gotta buy bigger plates
    Hehehe, and more baggies � why you all aggie?
    Homie, respect the game, that should be it
    What you eat don't make me shit; where's the love?

  • #2
    You don’t feel the need to reset your stage usages, Fist-kun?

    There was an oblivious quality to the way Renchishin Hitoko blinked while stating this inquire. Truth be told, it was a bit of an odd question to ask. A dark index finger poked at one of Sanshiro’s man made wings in jest as he treaded a few steps behind his comrade, his childlike curiosity getting the better of him as the two followed a subtle trail through the jungle.

    What happened to conserving chakra?

    The Sennin’s words were slick here, fingers now pressed against his thick lips as he burst into a light chuckle. It may have been at his own joke, mind you, but it was amusing. Although he understood the severity of the situation, Hitoko felt it necessary to bring some semblance of balance and peace with him. He was, at heart afterall, a good natured and goofy individual. Albeit chiseled by the adversity the world of the shinobi brought onto him and recognizing the brutal result of these actions, as displayed by the specks of dried crimson sprinkled upon his robe of saffron, Hitoko was, like his late cousin Shigeru, multifaceted. Capable of weaponizing his disarming personality to disarm adversary and misfortune at his leisure, the cheerful aura the Renchishin carried was a badge of honor groomed through a lifetime of martial practice and service. Yes, he may smile big, laugh loud and indulge in comical, and just down right mischievous, antics often – but there was a reason his body was adorned in countless scars.

    Renchishin Hitoko wasn’t known as The Dragon Emperor for no reason, after all.

    So, when The Fist pointed out the claw marks on their path, Hitoko took the lead with the jovial passion of an explorer. With precise movements the dreadlocked man pushed aside vines and tangled thickets while babbling about the concept of the term komorebi and how it was the literal word that described how beautiful sunlight was while the rays filtered through leaves and trees. It was similar to the way the two shinobi maneuvered through the landscape with confident and ease. This same attentive ease was the exact amount of confidence the Renchishin utilized when pushing through a large set of bushes, right hand curving into a dynamic upward arc fueled by a layer of wind which shattered a projectile of energy into particles of chakra dust that drifted like flakes of snow around the two.

    Feeling lucky, you say, Fist-kun?

    Chain-blocking and distilling three more claw like projectiles with the seamless integration of Ekitai and Rittaisen kata stances, Hitoko moved with the relaxed and honed grace associated with both styles while attaining a state of simultaneous offense and defense in order to deal with the attacks thrown at his person. A simple punch, palm and elbow strike, accentuated with the ethereal attraction of a calm breeze commodified as its own weapon, was all Hitoko needed to neutralize the threat. The Sennin looked to have not even been phased by the sudden act of aggression, his saffron jacket billowing with a serene demeanor as his body unraveled from its martial posture.

    Yes, actually, but we’ll see how fortune smiles on us today, yeah?

    Placing the edge of his fingers upon the brim of his eyebrows as a means to block out the sun from above, a wide grin thinned the Dragon’s lips as his ruby eyes focused on a pair of women a good length away. From the jungle emerged a sprawling field of tall grass whose blades, about knee high, danced and shuffled in the wind. Like an academy student greeting classmates at the end of a long training session, Renchishin Hitoko’s other hand shot upward, waving toward the duo in the distance.

    Impressive,” Qing Long muttered, her arms folding tighter across her chest, “to ward off your attack with simple hands and feet is no small feat, Baekho– !?

    –But her partner, Baekho, wasn’t in the slightest bit concerned. Matching the poise of the false dragon, Baekho lifted both arms in the air and was waving back with a smile that mirrored the man with the ruby eyes.

    Whaaaaaa~aaaat? Yes, yes, very, very impressive, impressive! But Byakko gives him 4 out of 10, wouldn’t recommend!

    Seiryu speaks a different prophecy... on
    on your guard, Fist-kun.”

    Wrapping both arms behind his back as they advanced, the realm of courtesy Renchishin Hitoko operated in was, too, odd. Lifting an arm to gesture with a thumb, the ruby eye warrior smiled toward The Fist once more, finding one last moment to hit him with a wisecrack before they’d be in ear shot of their opponents.

    Are these your type?

    Hitoko's side mission was to find Sanshiro a girlfriend, too, apparently.


    • #3
      "I don't got no type Dragon, you already know the type of chicks I like," Fist said with an immature grin, "Well, there was Yuko, Yuka, Fuka and Fuko," he paused for a moment, "Yukiko, Tetsumi, Megumi, Mayoko," he rubbed his chin, "Tomoka, Orika, Ama, Katsumi, Mitsuko..."

      He nodded slowly...

      "Well, we can't forget Kiyoko," he gripped his sword, "These bitches ain't nuthin' to me!"

      The Fist grinned at the women who seemed to look at him with a sort of skepticism--the field was open, there was no place to hide and that rule applied both to the Jinchuriki as it did to the Sennin of Sand and the Jounin of Leaf. Sanshiro gripped his blade, but he walked forward with a certain calm to his posture, one hand on the sword, an old samurai trick taught by his samurai master.

      The other hand raised up, non-threateningly.

      "Before we fight, I'd like to simply put this out there," he spoke uneasily, "This is a Sanada struggle, it ain't yours. You don't have to fight and die for Masakage's cause and shit, he's only using y'all as tools and shit!"

      "As if Konohagakure and Sunagakure are any more noble? The shinobi world have been using our kind as weapons for years! Masakage would at least have us play a role in it!"

      "Leaf and Sand ain't here..."

      "Ho~ho! And what would you call yourselves? Just random actors in this play, nyah! Foolish! Leaf and Sand send their biggest and most powerful dogs to deal with the Shiseiju! You'll find the tiger cares not for the barkings of shinobi mongrels!"

      Fist simply looked down towards the ground, trying to find words to say--the shinobi world wasn't a pure one, but he knew it was more noble than guerilla warfare and terrorism. There were plenty of noble shinobi with honorable hearts and peaceful dreams. For centuries people with bloodlines or demons bound to them had been treated differently. Fist couldn't let that world view gain root.

      He saw things in black and white...

      His naivette and innocence still remained even after all the blood on his hands.

      "Move aside and let us pass," he said finally unsheathing his blade, "Or suffer the same fate as your comrade. I swear on everythin' I muthafuckin' love--I ain't letting you and Masakage get away with this shit."

      He flapped his wings...

      "There are plenty of people to be fucked with," he spat, "I am not one."

      Don of the Sanada Family
      Leaf & Grass Lieutenant

      Let's end the speculation, I'm talkin' to all of y'all
      Males shouldn't be jealous, that's a female trait
      What, you mad �cause you push dimes and he sell weight?
      Y'all don't know my expenses, I gotta buy bigger plates
      Hehehe, and more baggies � why you all aggie?
      Homie, respect the game, that should be it
      What you eat don't make me shit; where's the love?


      • #4

        The Sunagakure monk blinked, he recognized the name:

        The woman with the hidden blades?

        He chuckled:

        I guess all dogs do go to heaven, huh?

        But his quip came to a quick halt, the wind whistling through vibrant blades of grass as Sanshiro and the duo of Jinchuuriki began their little back and forth discussing the politics and nuances that divided the four upon the battlefield. It was amidst their exchange, though, that a curious instance transpired. The moment itself was one so quiet, one so non consequential and minuscule that not even the almighty Qing Long, whose ash gray pigtails rolled with the breeze as she kept an intense blue gaze upon the two, noticed. The juncture occurred between the dragon and the tiger, a medial rendezvous point accessed by Renchishin Hitoko and the Jinchuuriki known as Baekho, who both smiled a rather dangerous poise and air.

        It was a psychological phenomenon often associated by the clash of two truly powerful warriors, as many sects and branches of the martial arts characterized it as a sort of temporal convergence akin to time slowing down when one’s life flashed before their eyes. An interval of nanoseconds, within the fraction of a heartbeat, where a passage of shared thoughts are exchanged between combatants as if capable of hearing the other’s thoughts. It is not to say that either warrior feared for their lives, even. But the two realized, at the very same time, beneath the hushed scope of conversation, that they’d been sizing each other up as their partners spoke – strategizing and outlining the methodology to which they’d take to incapacitate the other. Shinteki Kencho is what schools of martial thought called it, listening with the spirit or–with the way the Sennin liked to translate it–hearing minds through dripping fists.

        This subtle, yet spectacular, revelation of mental eye contact piqued both party’s interest.

        A moment, Fist-kun.

        But something even more caught the man’s attention, a saffron cloaked sleeve lifted as a means of halting Sanshiro’s advancement.

        The Four Saint Beasts, you say...

        This word they used to describe their unit, Shiseiju, it made the warrior all the more curious:

        The Tiger...the Dragon...and the Tortoise.

        Hearing him speak those words, the tortoise aroused a calm, boiling heat from Qing Long, whose amber hued gauntlets gripped tighter around her biceps.

        Is that who she was speaking to?” He questioned, peaceful and reflective, “To the friend within? Was Huyen Vu communicating with –

        Do not speak her name!

        A sea of flames ignited the arms of Baekho as she took her stance, fangs bared like a tiger poised to pounce upon their prey. Her sudden outburst even caught Qing Long, the often hot headed one of the two, off guard.

        You know nothing of our dream!

        Hitoko’s posture transitioned three times. Once with outstretched arms loosening muscles and measuring their centerline, the second presenting a closed fist covered by an open hand as a sign of respect, and the third:

        Yes, but I know a great deal about sacrifice.

        The third came with ease, sandal clad feet rooting deep and sturdy into the earth below as Renchishin Hitoko took upon the combat stance of the Ekitai-Kenfu:

        And I’m unsure if this cause, for you, is worth the adversity.

        The time for talk seemed over.

        Qing Long, prepared !?

        Fist-kun, ready?

        Their clash in an ocean of grass was imminent.


        • #5

          Is this Jinchuriki from Leaf?

          Underneath his sunglasses the Leaf savant studied the opponents before him with a veterans mindset. Only seventeen years breathing, his demeanor said more and his body had been through thousands of battles without a scar. Training and breeding--the reason he thought he might make it to retirement and also what he planned on doing in retirement. They had guided him this far and even faced with the monsters of legend he hoped they would guide him further yet.

          He nodded towards The Dragon Emperor, wordlessly communicating his will to the Sennin in a way that only those bonded by blood and battle could do. Jinchuriki were powerful and conventional wisdom and his usual tactic of overwhelming strength wasn't conducive, not yet. He needed to bring these women to their brinks before snuffing them out. His repertoire of techniques was large, he needed to see what they could do before knowing what he should do.

          He knew where he would start: all war was mental.

          "The trademark of the Konoha style of illusions," he said bringing his blade to eye level, horizontal across his body and bending his knees to lower his center of gravity, "Fear of the unknown, paranoia, and a general sense of imbalance--I apologize and shit."

          It was Sanshiro's versatility that made him a true force in his home country. He had mastered taijutsu, genjutsu, ninjutsu, summoning and the sword. He had gone even further than that and had blended his chakra into his taijutsu--where the gap had been largest between him and Hitoko in their last meeting.

          Fist hadn't taken the Sennin's task lightly, he had done nothing but train, day in and day out in preparation for a rematch. He didn't want to show off all his moves to Hitoko straight out...competitive advantage and all.

          But sometimes the circumstance demanded as such.

          "What are you blathering about boy?"

          Qing-Long also assumed a stance, her palms forward almost like Jyuuken or Ekitai-Kenfu...but not. His own training in Fuuton made him notice a shift in the wind as she motioned her palms and inhaled and exhaled--Huyen Vu had commanded water.

          So this must be Fire and Air...

          If I believed in the Gods, I'd think they gotta sense of humor and shit.

          The Jinchuriki were container to demons but Fist feared them not. His sword chased devils, he didn't run from them.

          "I was sayin' sorry and shit because this has been a ruse," he disappeared into a flock of crows which surrounded the area, and fluttered and cawed and hid the young Sanada, "You've already been caught in my web yo!"

          He blew a kiss to Qing-Long and Baehko both...

          And as such that darkness descended unto the Jinchuriki, prepared to slash and cut his way to insight.

          Last edited by Bukowski; 04-07-2019, 11:17 AM.

          Don of the Sanada Family
          Leaf & Grass Lieutenant

          Let's end the speculation, I'm talkin' to all of y'all
          Males shouldn't be jealous, that's a female trait
          What, you mad �cause you push dimes and he sell weight?
          Y'all don't know my expenses, I gotta buy bigger plates
          Hehehe, and more baggies � why you all aggie?
          Homie, respect the game, that should be it
          What you eat don't make me shit; where's the love?


          • #6
            Wait, Fist-kun.

            That’s the thing about plans.

            It might be best to draw both their –

            Often, they go awry.


            Although the arms of Qing Long lifted in a defensive posture, palms and elbows shuffling and transitioning through various Ganjou Taiki kata as a counter measure to parry the illusionary flock of crows that surrounded her, Baekho’s vision was filled in flames. The deepness to which her fire burned was rather bright, her jade eyes fixated upon the Renchishin rather than the Sanada, leaving her unopposed by the Genjutsu her comrade was triggered in. Rather, moments before The Fist lifted blade to his center, and a split second before Hitoko was able to mutter advice, she became a blended blur of pink and red. Rocketing from her starting position like a slingshot, body inverted while aerial, Baekho appeared moments above the Sennin with a flame imbued leg prepared to devastate him where he stood.

            Analyzing the rather unorthodox way her body was structured while curved in midair, a modest smile thinned the warrior’s lips – this scenario was rather interesting, to say the least. When his eyes adverted to glance toward Sanshiro, this woman’s presence became so quiet and subtle that for an instant she vanished from within the realm of his awareness. Speaking in terms of Maai–the interval or distance of engagement between combatants–Hitoko found it a bit remarkable that she went from long distance (Toma) to short distance (Chikama) quicker than he anticipated. It was akin to a tiger masking their murderous intent right before claiming an unsuspecting meal. Unfortunate for her, though, her prey wasn’t a simple gazelle ready to be slaughtered, no.

            He was a dragon braced for war.

            Taking extra measures while maintaining his guard, the dark skinned monk retreated backwards to allow the downward snap kick, coated in embers of orange, to miss him with little to no effort. His natural instinct told him what his next move should be, a simple counter in the form of a short palm strike burst to open her up for a clean follow up, but restraint got the better of him before he could advance – all for good reason, no less. Normally, after a high risk movement like that, a practitioner’s body falls back to the ground in order to reset their center of gravity to execute another technique. But this woman, Baekho they called her, she looked to still have command of herself as she fell, which is the reason Hitoko didn’t advance right out the gate.

            Baekho’s offense was stellar.

            Utilizing the momentum gathered from her initial assault, she adapted airborne, following the flow of the snap kick into a back spring flip. Inverted once more, her legs shot out twice. One with an axe kick, which Hitoko side stepped, and the second tracking where he maneuvered to deliver a side kick, which Hitoko dispersed by matching the impact with the classic Ekitai-Kenfu wing block with inverted elbow. Applying her rule over acrobatics, though, Baekho corkscrew spun with her descent, fingers finalizing a series of handseals the warrior hadn’t noticed during their exchange.

            Katon: Housenka no Jutsu | Fire Element: Mythical Fire Flower Technique

            And from fiery lips emerged an orchestra of fire, spewed toward adversaries and friends alike.


            • #7
              "Damn it Baekho! What happened to a united front?"

              Qing-Long didn't have time to chastise her partner as she soon was enveloped by the offensive assault of The Fist. The Onigokko style of kenjutsu was primarily a speed based one, though it was not the fastest in the land, the Initiate style made him appear a full three feet away from his current location and that was on top of him being covered by the illusion of the crows. His slashes were precise and efficient, his own offense a hurricane within a typhoon sparked by a volcano.

              "You ain't got time to worry 'bout your friend--I ain't fuckin' stuck fightin' you and shit, you're stuck fighting me!"

              His style was impetuous...

              However Qing-Long's defense was impregnable.

              Every crow's beak was slapped away and her own hands seemed to be deft with the freedom and agility of the wind--but coarse and bloodied often. This Dragon had claws. Twenty-five slashes with Fist's sword were parried twenty-five times, her body shifting and twisting but her hands and eyes remaining focused. Huyen-Vu had been meditative, her eyes closed nearly the entirety of their battle...

              Qing-Long was meticulous and her eyes were wide open, staying focused on The Fist, after the twenty-fifth blow, she spun and thrust her own palm forward a gale of wind exiting her hand.

              Kashirajishou: Hakuryokujishou!!

              An ethereal palm followed and increased in size massively before crashing into Sanshiro and knocking him down and backward, his sword the only thing keeping him from his ass, skidding on the ground to keep him on his knees.


              Oh fuck you and shit!

              It was then he noticed Baekho in the air and familiar hand seals, one he had been doing since he was twelve--Housenka. A familiar tool, now being used against him...

              Oh fuck me and shit.

              A ball of flame and then another went towards him and much like how Qing-Long had responded to his Genjutsu--he punched them both. The power of Seido Kobushi easily destroying the flame at the force of his fist. He was stronger than he appeared and more skilled than his age would take more than Housenka to stop him.

              "Dragon! Let's trade! Fire can't fuckin' touch me!"

              Qing-Long however, weaving through the flames set forth by Baekho had different plans and she was at Fist's face with a shocking speed. Four blows to the ribs and two to the chest rocked the Sanada, he didn't feel pain--but he did see stars. She was hitting him hard.

              "I'm the only Dragon you need to worry about," she spat, "You're stuck fighting me, not the other way around!"

              "Damn girl, get your own insults and shit! You just jackin' my whole flow there!"

              Another blow, this time to the chin.

              "Shut up boy!"

              Last edited by Bukowski; 04-09-2019, 09:06 PM.

              Don of the Sanada Family
              Leaf & Grass Lieutenant

              Let's end the speculation, I'm talkin' to all of y'all
              Males shouldn't be jealous, that's a female trait
              What, you mad �cause you push dimes and he sell weight?
              Y'all don't know my expenses, I gotta buy bigger plates
              Hehehe, and more baggies � why you all aggie?
              Homie, respect the game, that should be it
              What you eat don't make me shit; where's the love?


              • #8
                Baekho's body twisted in rapid succession.

                Corkscrew falling into a baby-freeze posture, with hands planted for balance in grass as her waist leaned into one elbow, the woman rotated even further as she spun to her back before performing a rising handspring maneuver to arrive on her feet – squatting. The flames executed from pursed lips may have been dealt with by the Sanada, she noted, but her frustrated eye-brows curved with more intensity once she realized that the technique hadn’t made contact with the shinobi’s comrade. To take it even further, though, Baekho even lost the man’s scent all together, which was concerning.

                Where did he…?

                Can you sense him, Byakko?

                Are you awake yet?

                I’ve lost track of –

                –What style is that?

                Behind !?

                Elevating with a clean hop and pivot, the Jinchuuriki garbed in pink attire arched into a half-moon back kick, an ember heel splitting the air in two, but meeting nothing. Utilizing her acrobatic nature, the woman adjusted while in air, throwing her body into a cartwheel motion as a means to follow the flow of her initial action. Inverting once more, her body flexed as she placed a hand onto the ground, finding herself in the L-Kick posture of break dancing legacy. This gave her a quick moment to survey the area. Her opponent was nowhere to be found.

                Yes, that, right there. Such supreme command of yourself even when your balance is lost, that’s frightening.

                Before she could react, something knocked her arm out of its stationary position. Where many may have panicked, Baekho adjusted. Being swept off her hand this time, she manipulated the momentum of being uprooted and rotated. Tucking into a sequence of torso fueled rolls in a circular path on the grass – one that transitioned from the upper chest, to shoulders, to back with legs twirling – she windmilled while performing handseals in preparation for her next assault. She needed to draw space between herself and this ruby eyed man at all costs, wherever he was.

                Time to flesh him out!

                She exhaled danger:

                Katon: Hidora no Jutsu | Fire Element: Hydra Technique

                Blossoming from her revolving form, sculpted from a single stream of ignited breath, arrived three large hydras that twisted and turned with her orbit. The bright flames encircled the woman, creating a small barrier of spinning fire that singed the grass surrounding her as it towered upward. Steering her propulsion to get back onto her feet, Baekho crouched low in a wide stance, maintaining the current of cardinal wildfire that spewed from her frame.

                This’ll keep’em at bay. Only way he could dream to come through these flames is if he jumped over the hydra, and when he’s aerial, it’ll be easy for me to spot and –

                –And, what !?

                At high velocity, she witnessed him, breaking through the layered ring of fire leaven snakes that fortified her position. Or, to say that she saw him was a tale woven in deceit. By the time she even realized that he was in front of her, his saffron hued form cutting through fabrics of flames that danced by as he split right through them, it was too late. Relaxed palms lay upon her abdomen, lead hand angled at twelve o’ clock while the guarding hand cusped at seven, gentle.

                Todorokishou | Pounding Palm

                Air thinned around the two, accumulating within his hands.

                It felt suffocating, almost.

                Seiryu Soudou Tsume | Azure Dragon Double Pulsating Talon

                And with one clean, concentrated and massive explosion of wind, Baekho was sent hurdling into the sky, dispersing the flame hydras as she passed through them. What allured his attention though, the Renchishin recognized with a smile, was that the Jinchuuriki brought her guard up moment’s before the explosion took place. An audible whistle left the man’s lips as she flew backwards.

                This was getting quite interesting.

                Drive | 30

                Last edited by Hitoko; 04-18-2019, 05:41 AM.