Don't smell these flowers

by **Sōichirō, Rō** Sun Mar 24, 2019 1:43 pm

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Posts : 24

Post n°1

Don't smell these flowers

by Sōichirō, Rō Sun Mar 24, 2019 1:43 pm

Aight so boom, the scene spans from the sky to an aerial view over Hanagakure, the place is fucking beautiful best believe it if you ever been there. Now, it is not called the Village Hidden in the Flowers for no reason, they are everywhere like the damn plague. Ya know what though, with the assortment of colors they definitely bring a more "homey" feel than that giant metal scrap heap, surrounding a lake, in the middle of a forest. All eyes on you Amegakure, like seriously? Who writes and comes up with the setting for these things?

Everything is peaceful here unlike other parts of the world, people could not ask for a better place to stay at, children frolicked throughout the plains without a care in the world. Between you and me, shit was about to hit the fan because ya know what. When was the last time the kage had been seen, two weeks? Three weeks? Nevertheless, the cries of distress came from the noisy children as they enclosed something or possibly someone in a group huddle.

"Who is he?"

"Is he dead?"

"Should we go get help?"

"Nah he's breathing, hey what's that?"

"A notebook? Hey! He's been writing about us!"

"I don't gave a big nose..."

"Yeaaa... you kind of do"

"SHUT IT, KIKYO!.. Uh oh, I think I woke him..."

"RUUUNNNN"

Them scary ass kids dipped faster than roaches when the lights come on, and good thing to because they had just awakened the man of the hour. Now, how ya boy got there in the first place was still a bit of a mystery that he was still piecing together, them eyes were glossier than a crackheads at midnight and he couldn't stop excessively blinking, but still he tried to make sense of the world. The boy was Rō Kifū Sōichirō, a newly appointed genin out to bring fame and good fortune to his family's name like those before, by the looks of things he was not off to a good start. I mean just look at him, genetics could not have dealt him an even worse hand. Yea sure, the ladies loved the hint of chocolate that the little redbone had amongst the pasty palettes they were accustomed to being around, but it's not like he was a finesse god. Have you seen his hair? The bushy mop made him look like a Pomeranian's asshole, lightly bleached n a heart shape, but just for presentation. Fuck you corgis, you Weiner dog rejects! The hair gods didn't bless ya boy and not a single person in the village was cold with the blade, thus he was forced to suffer until he made the trip back home.

*Blink*Blink*

Rō finally sat up, with his head on a swivel he surveyed the area as his hands patted his body down checking for all of his shit. The normal stuff; assorted weapons,notebook, gummy bears, etc… Then, it finally hit him, and when it did the boy went whiter than the Klan at the Ferguson protests. His notebook was missing, basically an extension of his brain, without it how would he communicate? How would people know what he wanted? Oh no!?! The kid was practically shitting himself, and being the little drama king that he was he made a spectacle out of it in the open. A flaring of nostrils and arms, pouty lip and all. The embodiment of a big baby. A cloud of dust kicked up as he dusted his clothes off, being dirty never bothered him being a farmhand on the Sōichirō, but what did was having his possessions stolen.

He sighed, it was not the end of the world and from time to time the budding Shinobi had to remind himself of this. Ya see that people, two dimensional characters it's not hard, just takes some effort and you bet your sweet ass Rō is going to have a bumpy ride getting to the top. Shouldn't be long, at least in his mind. The kid had skill, don't get me wrong, definitely top tier for his class, but the top was a steep hike and faced with the likes of shit fathomable only in nightmares. *Pop* Looks like he got hungry, the little temper tantrum worked up a mild appetite or at the least a craving for sugar, and knowing him his handy dandy candy was plenty for his satisfaction. Gummy bears, an assortment of GOOD flavors, unlike that jelly bean crap.

On his shoulder the manifestation of a god, well at least at first glance, sat on his shoulder in the form of the one tailed beast aka ya boy Tanuki, though in truth, it was nothing more than a mass of sand fashioned and fixed to that form by an act of Rō's chakra control. See, told ya the boy had skills, but just wait until he found the little shit(s) that had his notebook, and thus he walked on in search of anyone with a connection. The tanuki fed him gummy bears from its belly like the wholesome little devil creature it likened in appearance.

WC: 855

by **Gyokusho** Mon Mar 25, 2019 7:17 pm

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Post n°2

Re: Don't smell these flowers

by Gyokusho Mon Mar 25, 2019 7:17 pm

Mission Name: Combat Practice
Rank: B
Type: With someone
Client: Village
Exp/Ryo Reward: 900 ryo 300 exp
Mission Description: This is a mission that the village made to make sure that people are keeping up on training and keeping sharp. It is not very complicated but you have to spar with someone else in the village. This is a good way to meet and get to know people and you will be better at fighting with them since you will know about their fighting style. Good for team building. You can be partners then after if you want. It is a live fight though so it can be dangerous so be careful and maybe have a medic nearby.
Location: Flower Village
Additional Information: There is none
Eligible Members: Anyone really

The dirt made a fine seat for a mid-day lunch, only a short jaunt off the beaten path. Flowers of every shape and color bloom all around me, as they do every day in this village. In so many ways these streets have imprisoned me and the rapture of the beauty simply counts among the many bars here. I suppose it could worse. I don't have to wear the uniform almost ever, unless they send me on some mission, but the current chaotic stat of the village seems to have precluded any military activities. Instead, I simply have on a black tank, tightly clinging to me, and a pair of black shorts. The sun beats down, but exposed flesh helps to somewhat stave off the inevitable sweat fest the nation endures at all times. I wonder, briefly, how people in Yukigakure dress. Do they wear parkas at all times?

Slowly, I manipulate the pair of chopsticks in my left hand, moving the sushi from the small bento box I brought from my flat into my mouth. Another bar here, the food, which is superb. I don't think that I'm really a huge connoisseur or anything, but the places around here sure know how to cook, and the markets sell really good food too, so nice grub is never hard to come by. It makes a life lived in an encampment easier, for sure, and I savor the slightly sour rice. The small sushi pieces quickly run out and, as usual, my singular lack of retraint leaves me with only the accoutrements, also delicious, but not as great as the supple fish. I pick around at some of the pickled ginger and a few small bits of shrimp, a small pile of now cold fried rice, as a collection of kids run by me shouting.

Where they raise noise and dust, stamping and scampering about with some treasured notebook, I make neither noise nor sudden movements, create no commotion, leave no trace. One of my brothers once said that I "cast no shadow," which felt rude and hurtful at the time since all the man around me loomed like the night, but now it seems a kindness. My eyes scan coolly after the trailing boys, near my age, perhaps from my academy class, as they run along, they clearing out and leaving room for a single, other boy with crazy hair and a little idol feeding him.... candy? Most people wouldn't consider me rude - I don't routinely make enough eye contact for that - but my gaze lingers at the spectacle. Strange indeed, but as I now open stare my hand runs up and pushes the electrified fire of my wild hair, shoving it back into place mostly behind the navy band across my forehead, lion's ink on full display in the bright sunlight. I have forgotten the bento, but suddenly crave some sugar.

For reasons I do not fully understand, I rise, tossing the mostly eaten box into a nearby rubbish bin and brushing off my seat from the dust of sitting. By now I have managed to avert my attention to recapture the scenery - flowers - and I shake myself slightly as a bunch of large, pale purple petals fall out of my hair. Long and thick, it tends to capture the endless rain of flowers and i constantly find myself having to pull them from, well, everywhere. I was going to head over to a bathhouse for the rest of the day, but instead I walk forward, approaching, somewhat cautiously, the weird kid and the monster on his shoulder.

"How are you doing that?" It isn't loud when I speak, or do anything for that matter, but my voice grinds and resonates, even in the open space. He can hear me, for sure, unless he he can't hear anything I guess, but probably most other people passing us by just register the noise as some low thrum. Pink eyes continue to flicker between the boy's and the totem he carries, little multi-colored candy bears continually emerging from its fat belly.

Last edited by Gyokusho on Mon Apr 01, 2019 10:25 pm; edited 1 time in total

by **Sōichirō, Rō** Tue Mar 26, 2019 1:09 pm

Sōichirō, Rō

Sōichirō, Rō: Chakra Pool : 0
Posts : 24

Post n°3

Re: Don't smell these flowers

by Sōichirō, Rō Tue Mar 26, 2019 1:09 pm

Well what do ya know, we are back for round number two, and if you are just tuning in then shame on you because the epic of Rō K. Sōichirō is about to be thrown down a mountain of glass into a pool of everclear, and I ain't talking the cheap stuff. Short recap for obvious reasons, like seriously, eight hundred and fifty five words ain't much! Now, just before the intermission ya boy Ro began straight flexing after finding out his notebook was missing, i'm talking upper level chakra control that had that little sand demon on his shoulder scurrying around like one of them subway rats; fearless and unbothered by people's bullshit even if they were to be kicked, in this case just reforming shape. Whenever he got hungry ya boy Rō would call it back with a few pats on his chest just to have it remove a pair of gummy bears. Go dice roll!..

*Plop*Plop*

First, yellow.. Then.. Blue?..

Now when it came to young Rō there was one thing ya had to know... The kid is a sociopath! I kid, I kid. No, but seriously, when it came to him knowing this twisted gummy bear system that he had meant being a friend indeed. Fate dealt him a fucked up hand, so he figured that meant rolling with the punches for the rest of his life and the gummy bear color variation was a tool for just that. If you don't get it, I don't blame you, just check out what happens next.

After the first gummy was thrown back the second was shaken up in his hand like some dice, then near instantly the sugar high set in and Rō gave in to his inhibitions like the happy little addict he was. Arms wailing, legs all loose goosey, the boy was making a fool of himself and anyone in attendance was in for a show. Nani?! And just like that, man down, eleven thirty, the young pimp was in distress having tripped over his own creation, but before hitting the floor he was saved. Pimps slip up to, though never falling, and Ro made sure of it causing the little Shukaku to change its shape to the form of a bed of sand that he was able to fall into. Real smooth and an effective display of his kekkei genkai, but as always overly dramatic when if it were just him being him putting on a show for himself.

He chuckled silently whilst laying briefly a mere six inches from the floor, then a figure towered over him like the big buff black man from White Chicks and once the shadow overcame him Ro's mind reverted back to his gummies. A new challenger approaches!.. Ya boy scrambled to his feet and Shukaku resumed form standing between the two, two feet from Rō and two from red haired guy that wreaked of manliness, seriously the guy could have modeled, but by his headband for whatever reason decided to be a ninja. He questioned Rō and all he could do was give a dramatic sigh, inaudible of course because of the whole mutism shtick, as a hand rubbed through his messy blonde hair upon trying to discern the situation.

Friend... Or, foe... The gummies said cautious and trust… He looks like ok on the surface, but huh?! Pointy teeth!?! Is he a Seven Swordsmen of legend? Papa used to tell me stories about them and their legendary weapons! Hm.. He probably has them stored away in one of those tattoos acting like Fūinjutsu.. All I have to do is capture him and I win it!

Oh boy, it was on now and Ro was never one to cheat anybody so he gave fair warning by having the little Shukaku morph part of its hand into a sand shaped flag indicating a start. Though, to what? As if the someone yelled "Andy is coming" Shukaku plopped on it's butt completely unanimated, Rō deciding to test the waters himself first. Check out the foot work! A young Ali in his prime, a quick four step shuffle in place was mesmerizing to the non-physical types, if the guy was indeed one of those then he wouldn't be expecting the left hook following it up.

WC: 715

by **Gyokusho** Tue Mar 26, 2019 10:39 pm

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Posts : 30

Post n°4

Re: Don't smell these flowers

by Gyokusho Tue Mar 26, 2019 10:39 pm

The kid's antics continued even as I approached him; more candy, a fall, a spontaneous bed of sand born from the body of the miniature monster before it reformed once again as a cute gummy bear bank. I could hear my own sharp exhalation as he tripped and caught himself, a small snicker at the situation, especially upon finding that no one hand injured themselves. Still, my curiosity burned within me like a glowing coal: how could this kid do this stuff? I know that ninja are supposed to, rather ironically, do all these big amazing displays, but so far as I have seen the parlor tricks at the academy are pretty plain.

I suddenly feel self-conscious as this other boy rights himself and locks gazes with me. I guess I stared before too, but he didn't see. Now, in the open day, his eyes give me a once and twice over, calmly appraising my every feature. It... feels different than someone like trainer looking me over, probably just because he's a stranger. I avert my gaze, shifting it down and to the side and a blush forms, though I don't myself feel it. I am still not totally used to this world; so maybe this sort of intense scrutiny happens everywhere, all the time. As it continues, I shove my hands into the pockets of the shorts and study the little tanuki intently. Briefly I think maybe he just hadn't heard me and this is just getting more awkward by the second, but he sighed after I spoke to him. I guess I must be bothering him? He could just tell me to go away.

Before I have time to turn, the little demon doll waves a flag down and I stare, confused, for a moment, before the life drained out of it and it grew completely motionless. Looking up for a bit of guidance, this kid is dancing around on nimble toes as if we're about to begin a boxing match. Finally, my eyes shift up to meet his once more, pink on hazel, but he has nothing for me by way of explanation or introduction. His fist then barrels at me, whole body locking into the punch.

I have not training in taijutsu, if that is what he is doing. I did not come from this world, not originally, and while certainly my body is a great weapon, I cannot do the fancy spinning flips and kicks that these ninja seem to love. The academy teachers never directly expressed their extreme confusion and exasperation with my physical spars, but I could tell that they did not appreciate the way I moved. I am not from this life; when I grew up, a body meant something, and to injure or break it set you back. The laws of physicality mattered and a disarmed opponent was, well, disarmed. Here, though, people walk around with all sorts of straight up magic, all kinds of weird tricks so that you can't approach, or if you do they know. Everyone has eyes in the back of their heads and can vomit out a fireball as easily as I can stride down the street.

But I do not have a choice. My body moves for me even as I try and think up a defense. Without knowing if this fist would explode or cut me in half, I shift backwards out of the way, a slightly safer option than leaning in and grappling with him. My right food slides backwards through the soil as my upper body leans and shifts away from the hook, letting is pass in front of me, a mere few inches from where my head was. However, rather than lean forwards again in retaliation, I eschew the boxing match and continue with my slight momentum, ducking low as my right foot, once the base of my retreat, pivoted, my palms kissing the ground as a platform, torso and head pushing down and forward. Like a top, I spun as I made the short journey to the earth and, as I did, my right foot extended out, traveling in a wide swap almost a foot above the ground. The whole move would see me, at its conclusion, fully revolved, hunched to the ground, looking back towards this silent boy who, ideally, would have fallen over as I swept his legs from him. I tilted my head in confusion, red hair falling to one side, deep voice grinding. "What the fuck?"

by **Sōichirō, Rō** Wed Mar 27, 2019 1:23 am

Sōichirō, Rō

Sōichirō, Rō: Chakra Pool : 0
Posts : 24

Post n°5

Re: Don't smell these flowers

by Sōichirō, Rō Wed Mar 27, 2019 1:23 am

Swing and a miss ladies and gentlemen, Rō's first strike soared past the red haired guy by a mile thanks to some swift movements, even if they were not taijutsu based, simple single step evasions at higher speeds than those attacking was sensical. With his momentum carrying him over the boy was shit out of luck, there was no defending this type of strike and he knew it, thus the dramatic antics that he was prone to kicked in and the boy cupped his face after being administered the strike. Rō's body went limp like a wet noodle and by the time the strike had been dealt his legs had already given out. Now from the outside it would like like he had played himself, but once again playas slip up to and it was all about contingency plans. Rule number one of fighting, if you write a check make sure yo ass can cash it. Coincidentally, Rō's could not and he knew from the beginning that he was not suited for taking too many hits, thus as he went toppling over he purposely aimed for Shukaku.

*Phoosh*

The poor little sand demon shattered under the boy's weight, though doing so sent a cloud of sand rising skyward and around them, wounds, orifices, and open eyes were subject to its salty spray. Dirty or unorthodox tactics? You're really going to judge a handicap kid, shame on you...

Round three was starting to heat up! Rō was rubbing the back of his calf from a seated position on the floor, like seriously guy? The hype train has been rolling for you and this is that what we're going to get... Instead of falling the sand lingered in the air within that four meter radius, it made a fact to stay away with the exception of a fifth of the total quantity of the sand having condensed into a hand at his nape grabbing hold of his collar and pulling him away an additional six meters to his feet. The rest of the mass would follow suit further increasing the size of the hand to that of the mini shukaku and hovering half a foot above Rō's left shoulder, he stood there like a badass with his arms crossed acting like that strike didn't hurt.

Hmph.. Don't take me lightly just because I'm handicapped.. I still have a trick or two up my sleeve...

Ya boy was definitely having fun, i'd say you could tell by the smirk on his face, but his drip had him fitted him with a collar above his nose hiding his features besides his eyes. If it had happened, any particles of sand on him would have been drawn away and Rō's swag could be admired. A light dusting of his right shoulder made his playa card official, touching him again was going to cost something of his. The hand made of sand animated its fingers, all but the thumb motioned back and forth indicating for more of the battle to commence. By this time the notebook was out of his mind, but the children peaked out from their hiding spots to watch the match unfold.

"Woah! He got him!"

"He moves so fast!"

"I-i-i I know that one I think!"

"Yea it's like the leaf gale!"

WC: 550
-30 Chakra

by **Gyokusho** Wed Mar 27, 2019 5:33 pm

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Post n°6

Re: Don't smell these flowers

by Gyokusho Wed Mar 27, 2019 5:33 pm

I could feel success, the impact of my leg with the other's as I finished my controlled spin and he toppled, falling likely headlong into the dust. Once my singular revolution concluded, I got a full picture once more of this bold sandman. For the briefest of moments I could put together that he had cleverly directed his fall in the few seconds he had towards his little companion, preventing any sort of broken nose or large injury as he plummeted to Earth. My vision cuts out though as my eyes sting and close reflexively, the puff of sand exploding all around in a something like a fine mist. Another attack? I cannot say, but I move slightly from my position, transitioning from a squat to a battle crouch, still low but now with one arm extended slightly before me and the other furiously rubbing at my blinded self.

A brother of mine could murder in the dark, completely blind, basing his movements only on sound. I am.... not that skilled, but echo location does not completely elude me, especially given the current terrain, though the din of the peanut gallery does me no favors. The blurriness of my eyes subsides after a moment or two and I capture this guy once more, now fully standing, sandy hand urging me to continue, to make the next move. I see the smirk on his face and in that moment the awkwardness of the praise of the crowd melts away. I smile too.

Remaining hunkered down I cast a steely gaze over to gummy bear guy, still somewhat unsure as to the stakes of our fight. Through three crisp signs I weave and, with a burst of chakra, four additional copies of me arrive, set up in a straight line respective the other combatant. He should be able to see them all, though their forms will overlap slightly from the angle, though in a moment the whole group rushes forward at him. Because they have no corporeal form, they can phase in and out of one another without issue, forming a confusing mass around me of limbs and heads, each doing roughly the same thing but at slightly different times.

Essentially, I am going to elaborately speed blitz him and attempt to use these distractions to, well, distract him. The smallest of hesitations or incorrect reactions could differentiate a successful strike from a weathered blow, so other than deciding the course of action, my job remains rather simple. About five feet for him, mid charge, two of the figures break off and angle themselves to the right while the remaining three angle slightly to the left, creating a two pronged attack. While the three are now moving as more or less distinct units, preparing three different sets of punches, the two to the right remain slightly entangled, still throwing confusion as to which owns what limbs. Here, the apparition goes for a twisting right kick aimed directly at the other's left abdominal while I, bound up in the crush of limbs and false flesh, attempt to return the left hook in kind. Assuming all works out, he should experience now two distinct factions of me attacking from different angles such that regardless of which group he looks at, the other will linger distractingly in her peripherals.

by **Sōichirō, Rō** Tue Apr 02, 2019 12:11 pm

Sōichirō, Rō

Sōichirō, Rō: Chakra Pool : 0
Posts : 24

Post n°7

Re: Don't smell these flowers

by Sōichirō, Rō Tue Apr 02, 2019 12:11 pm

Damn Rō-Rō, back at it again looking like a bad ass! And compliments on the scale of the hand of sand to normal human proportions times three, any trick would be honored to be blessed up side the head by its eloquently detailed touch. The miracles of chakra and a little creativity went a long way. Seriously, the kids attention to detail was immaculate, but what he was having trouble wrapping his odd brain around was the attack by the red haired shinobi. One became five, but like not really because they became like an amalgamation, then before he knew it they weren't again... Pretty much the whole thing was a confusing mess and not being well versed in ninjutsu put Rō at a disadvantage on top of the speed he had over him. Was Rō as shit out of luck as he seemed?

Ahh a clone type jutsu! Those are always loads of fun, but what type are they? Corporal form? Incorporal form? Shit! I missed his hand signs! Did he infuse a chakra nature? There are way too many variables at play here!!! Wait breathe.. I'm a Sōichirō, step by step...

At this point, three meters in, Rō's observation had him wishing he could sell one of his nuts to be able to see chakra like the Uchihatards, but nope he got the opposite of a blessing, thus it was up to the ol Arabian goggles to figure things out. He squinted for accuracy coupling that with a failed attempt to scratch his back that his creation moved out of sight to handle for him. All of the copies with the exception of one were without a shadow in the afternoon setting, but ya know all that squinting made it obvious his detective skills where in play, and what made it funny was that now he REALLY looked like a Pomeranian only like a chocolate one. Now privilege was usually reserved for the fairer skin, yet Rō's Sōichirō ancestors took care of bidness, not to be confused with business, during their time on this planet which set ya boy up shop with some of the finest private tutors money could buy. When it came to these chump clones he knew what to expect, or in this case what not to, if his teachings truly paid off.

"WOOAH THE CLONE JUTSU"

"I can only make one, but he made like one.. Two..

"He made four!"

"See told you the basics where key to battle!"

"Sooo! You don't even do it the way he's doing it! Finesse~Filaayy!"

For this ya boy deserved an award, I mean seriously, when it came to the amalgamated unit's kick he put on the theatrics acting like they connected. The hand stayed concealed while a third of it yeeted the kid by the top of his garment opposite the supposed landing of the kick in the name of the performance, fragments sprinkling on the floor as it moved, the little kids got all bugged eyed gasping and what not at the show. The follow up was a bit more difficult to execute, but Rō was no hoe and knew it was all about the timing, so in the course of the yeet the other two thirds of the sand hand went sliding across his back side seeking to intercept the punch at one meters coming from the left which the yeeting took place. Like the effect of kegels, the hovering sand would endure and grip the red haired man's on contact. All the while, Rō spinning off his right shoulder like a running back juking a tackle, then slipping on the little bit of sand that had fallen on the ground by the yeet causing him to baseball slide away about six meters. The kids ate it up laughing at what seemed like mishap on Rō's part, but in truth the little brats were being suckered in by a distraction giving little to no credit to the third of sand that transitioned from his back side to his stomach to pull him the extra distance only seen in their crappy kids shows they watch now a days. All eyes on you TeenTitans GO, we all are thinking it, plenty have been saying it, so it's obvious and we're not even going to discuss it further.

Spoiler:

by **Gyokusho** Wed Apr 17, 2019 8:38 pm

Gyokusho

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Posts : 30

Post n°8

Re: Don't smell these flowers

by Gyokusho Wed Apr 17, 2019 8:38 pm

How did he know?

My attack failed utterly. This demon of sand, while more sluggish than I, managed to outmaneuvered me with his mastery of this cloud he carried with him. Where I thought my small diversionary tactic had succeeded, this boy had bested me without so much as moving his body. Strange, but what an advantage this sand could be; how did he manipulate it and with such precision? The masters of the academy never mentioned a sand release that I could recall, though perhaps I had dozed off in the middle of a dreary lesson. Unlike me though to drift during a lesson, so more probable that they simply neglected this information. Be this the case, what other issues can arise? What other forms of strange power and manipulation exist, waiting to surprise me, waiting to harm me? I will need defense to protect myself from such unexpected powers, but what can possible fight the all encompassing range of a technique such as this. By my estimations, this sand has not left his side, has strayed no more than a few feet, but that does not mean that it cannot extend; he, like me, is only learning. What if he goes to the desert? Can he control the entirety of it? Who could defend against such an assault?

I give to instinct once more as the sand first cushions and then grasps my blow, protecting gummy bear from my fist. The sand arrests most of my momentum from my upper body and sure footing prevents me from sliding out of control. Then, like bullet, I rapidly twist to my left, attempting to use my strength to free my hand before the sand has the opportunity to harden, or crush my limb, or any manner of other ninja magic. If only I had some long range ability to combat this I might have a chance in this fight, but as current standings show this other shinobi has relegated me entirely to the defensive. With no means to approach, I can only attempt to edge closer to him or force him to me, something he seems unwilling to do.

With any luck, I will extricate my limb from the cocoon of particulates, bits of crumbled stone falling from my bare flesh, tiny abrasions littering my arm healing even as they form. I suppose that, at the end of it all, this explains my conscription: my bloodline heals me even from grievous wounds quite quickly and, though I hate it, others can.... feed upon my flesh to heal themselves as well. Once, I had a place of respect, but now I simply exist as a tool for the lord of the land and his proxy the kage - whoever that is at this point - to use me as they see fit. It grinds my gears merely to think of this, to contemplate the pointless struggle of my position, and deep within my I retreat to rage in quiet repose.

Externally, a smirk breaks my face, a small thing which says "gotcha." The triplicate clones of myself continue their harmless attack, phasing through my opponent but landing in the same place as he. His slide does not move overly quick and they follow him, standing on top of him and occupying the same area he does even while moving. They have no form, cannot touch nor be touched, and no amount of sand can disrupt them. Because they crowd him so closely, he should remain blinded by their presence, seeing only the dark colors of their tank tops and slightly goldened skin.

By now I have finished a full rotation, lowered my body, and shot forward towards this mad of comedy. My low profile places me below the blob of sand which previously restrained me and should allow me to bolt below and beyond it before it catches me. Of course, the clone atop me also moves, taking a few steps backwards, insurance in case the Pomeranian can still see me somehow and thinks that the real me retreats. While I close the six meter gap created, my clone begins performing seals at top speed. Fist closing, I approach, poised to deliver a right straight and, upon arriving in striking range, I suddenly drop, palms to the floor, and move once more for a forefooted roundhouse from my right leg, aimed directly at Ro's midsection. Ideally, he still remains blind and sliding and I simply catch up to his retreat to deliver a finishing attack.

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