021 - [Broadcast Mind] 'Battle'
"Stay focused on your mission, Sasori. A shinobi should not seek vengeance above all else," you remember the Kazekage telling you soberly, hand on your shoulder where the scar from your chuunin exams is skin that's still pink and new beneath your tunic. "But one must also not allow an opportunity to slip through their fingers. Even if you do not face the White Fang tomorrow, his comrades can still pay the price of blood."
You won’t disappoint him, you’ve already resolved, not when this will be your first time facing the enemy.
It isn't like those great battles in the old scrolls, where seas of samurai wage war on yellowing parchment. The shadows are the open battlefield for a shinobi. Here, you and your comrades melt into the woods and become one with it. You stand beneath a great tree, back pressed to it, senses seeking the spark of enemy chakra. But there's a moment where all you feel is the life pulsing through that massive trunk your body is flush against. It's only natural that a tall and mighty tree can captivate you like this when wood’s the material that stirs your soul to create. You close your eyes for a moment and resonate with the great, ancient spirit that dwells deep beneath the rough bark. Here at your back is life that could one day be reshaped into art.
Could be, but won't, because in an instant there are kunai with exploding tags embedded in that great trunk, ones that whistled by your head and missed you by a hair's breadth. You're already leaping, tumbling away when they explode and rather than cool pulsing life there's the searing heat of death at your back, cutting you off from your teammates. Even before conscious thought refocuses in mid-flight, kunai are already in your hands and already flying out, there, there, there, aimed straight and true at flickers of chakra, and the gurgle of blood in cut-out throats indicates you hit the mark. But you're already forgetting that and hunting for the next target, unfurling a puppet scroll by the time your feet finally touch the earth again. Karasu's on your back and firing poison gas capsules when you leap to the right, avoiding more exploding tags. Fire and smoke, flashes and bangs and screams, the taste of blood, the smell of burning flesh and wood intermingle and do their best to cloud your senses, but you won't allow yourself to be shaken, not now. Flickers of chakra and flutters of movement are what your senses are trained on.
Kunai again, one-two-three-four, your fingers dance and each of Karasu's hands flow in succession off your body and up to swat them away before they can connect. An older girl with black hair and red eyes (never meet red eyes, you remember Tatsuya telling you) bursts out of a bush to your left and a fireball bursts from her mouth. A flip and your feet are pressed to the trunk of a tree, chakra surging down and letting you scurry straight up and avoid the flames, Karasu detaching and spinning out, gas capsules and senbon fired at your opponent.
She’s caught in the poison cloud when one of the jounin intervenes, barking at you over his shoulder about genjutsu, telling you to break off and rejoin your squad on the right flank.
Your eyes widen and you race forwards when you turn and see a massive black shape that bounds down from the cliff above and charges your teammates: a monster, a black wolf-dog the size of a bull that reminds you of legends about old forest gods, a shinobi riding its great back. Misaki’s careful like always and keeps her distance, leaping back and launching her giant shuriken, slashing into the monster’s side. Tatsuya darts in and out at lightning speed, trading blows with rider and beast alike. But Shun doesn’t want to be outdone by his jounin squad leader and moves in too close, sword drawn. He screams when the beast snaps its jaws down on him and shakes him like a rag doll.
Stupid show off. You grit your teeth and Karasu fires senbon at monster and rider alike; the beast gives a great howl when it’s shot in the eye, bucking its own rider off. Misaki and Tatsuya edge in, trying to pry the boy out of its mouth and hack the thrashing creature to pieces. Tatsuya only has to shout your name and you already know. Take care of the rider.
It’s hardly an epic battle, another difference from the stories. It can’t be when you can tell the man’s injured from the fight and already poisoned by your senbon, staggering and stumbling. It only takes a moment for strings to pull taut and for Karasu to pin down his limbs. He mocks you as you approach, no doubt expecting cowardice and capture from a child.
But you were told to take no prisoners on this mission, and the Kazekage’s words about the price of blood ring in your ears. He pales when you slip your ninjato from its scabbard.
This one will be for your mother. It's her warm hand grasping yours that you remember, long-fingered, graceful but strong, proudly callused from the blade that's in your hand right now; that's what you remember has been taken away from you by the Leaf, what steadies you when you slice open a trembling throat.
A Suna shinobi is worth ten Konoha ones, you remember Tatsuya saying. Your parents, though, they were the best, had to be the best, so you decided they're each worth a hundred. One White Fang, or a hundred each. Then, you'll be satisfied. The Kazekage would surely approve that you're controlling your feelings so well.
((OOC: Way backdated to the 22nd. ;;))
You won’t disappoint him, you’ve already resolved, not when this will be your first time facing the enemy.
It isn't like those great battles in the old scrolls, where seas of samurai wage war on yellowing parchment. The shadows are the open battlefield for a shinobi. Here, you and your comrades melt into the woods and become one with it. You stand beneath a great tree, back pressed to it, senses seeking the spark of enemy chakra. But there's a moment where all you feel is the life pulsing through that massive trunk your body is flush against. It's only natural that a tall and mighty tree can captivate you like this when wood’s the material that stirs your soul to create. You close your eyes for a moment and resonate with the great, ancient spirit that dwells deep beneath the rough bark. Here at your back is life that could one day be reshaped into art.
Could be, but won't, because in an instant there are kunai with exploding tags embedded in that great trunk, ones that whistled by your head and missed you by a hair's breadth. You're already leaping, tumbling away when they explode and rather than cool pulsing life there's the searing heat of death at your back, cutting you off from your teammates. Even before conscious thought refocuses in mid-flight, kunai are already in your hands and already flying out, there, there, there, aimed straight and true at flickers of chakra, and the gurgle of blood in cut-out throats indicates you hit the mark. But you're already forgetting that and hunting for the next target, unfurling a puppet scroll by the time your feet finally touch the earth again. Karasu's on your back and firing poison gas capsules when you leap to the right, avoiding more exploding tags. Fire and smoke, flashes and bangs and screams, the taste of blood, the smell of burning flesh and wood intermingle and do their best to cloud your senses, but you won't allow yourself to be shaken, not now. Flickers of chakra and flutters of movement are what your senses are trained on.
Kunai again, one-two-three-four, your fingers dance and each of Karasu's hands flow in succession off your body and up to swat them away before they can connect. An older girl with black hair and red eyes (never meet red eyes, you remember Tatsuya telling you) bursts out of a bush to your left and a fireball bursts from her mouth. A flip and your feet are pressed to the trunk of a tree, chakra surging down and letting you scurry straight up and avoid the flames, Karasu detaching and spinning out, gas capsules and senbon fired at your opponent.
She’s caught in the poison cloud when one of the jounin intervenes, barking at you over his shoulder about genjutsu, telling you to break off and rejoin your squad on the right flank.
Your eyes widen and you race forwards when you turn and see a massive black shape that bounds down from the cliff above and charges your teammates: a monster, a black wolf-dog the size of a bull that reminds you of legends about old forest gods, a shinobi riding its great back. Misaki’s careful like always and keeps her distance, leaping back and launching her giant shuriken, slashing into the monster’s side. Tatsuya darts in and out at lightning speed, trading blows with rider and beast alike. But Shun doesn’t want to be outdone by his jounin squad leader and moves in too close, sword drawn. He screams when the beast snaps its jaws down on him and shakes him like a rag doll.
Stupid show off. You grit your teeth and Karasu fires senbon at monster and rider alike; the beast gives a great howl when it’s shot in the eye, bucking its own rider off. Misaki and Tatsuya edge in, trying to pry the boy out of its mouth and hack the thrashing creature to pieces. Tatsuya only has to shout your name and you already know. Take care of the rider.
It’s hardly an epic battle, another difference from the stories. It can’t be when you can tell the man’s injured from the fight and already poisoned by your senbon, staggering and stumbling. It only takes a moment for strings to pull taut and for Karasu to pin down his limbs. He mocks you as you approach, no doubt expecting cowardice and capture from a child.
But you were told to take no prisoners on this mission, and the Kazekage’s words about the price of blood ring in your ears. He pales when you slip your ninjato from its scabbard.
This one will be for your mother. It's her warm hand grasping yours that you remember, long-fingered, graceful but strong, proudly callused from the blade that's in your hand right now; that's what you remember has been taken away from you by the Leaf, what steadies you when you slice open a trembling throat.
A Suna shinobi is worth ten Konoha ones, you remember Tatsuya saying. Your parents, though, they were the best, had to be the best, so you decided they're each worth a hundred. One White Fang, or a hundred each. Then, you'll be satisfied. The Kazekage would surely approve that you're controlling your feelings so well.
((OOC: Way backdated to the 22nd. ;;))