Fucking hell, really? Though the accuracy of the entire system would have made one doubtful they could hit anything, their sheer numbers prevailed and did a little bit of damage. Two small blades stuck right into his forearm. The Isaki grunted audibly upon each's hit. Sure, while he was trained to handle pain, and to heal it, it didn't mean he would; as his plan was, showing any sign of being capable of using chakra might bring the Hyuuga to actually use deadly force rather than this childs play.
"Fucking hell," he'd murmur, clenching and continuing forward after a momentary halt from the injury, pulling out both blades: first the one closest to his wrist, followed by the one farther up.
"Really? REALLY?!" he'd call out.
"Quit this shit!"
Blood trickled down in a light flow, tracing from his arm to his hand, and falling to the ground from his thumb and middle finger. A nuisance, really. Projectiles fly in every which direction, coming quickly into his sight and just as swiftly into the abysmal darkness that surrounded him. Ought he've been afraid? Perhaps. A former shinobi of Stone was trying to kill him while he limited himself to not using chakra and couldn't see more than a meter in any direction in this darkness. He could easily die at any moment; it was no worse than Mist was, though. He ought to have died there, but he didn't. Those ghosts plagued him more than this job did; he would return there once he died anyways, there was nothing for him to worry of.
It was like rain, the thud of the arrows against the soft ground. Less peaceful, though, when you realized that. On hit his shoulder, sinking just beneath the skin: thank gods the bone wasn't broken, or feel it at least. He didn't stop walking forward; he didn't pull out the arrow head, that would be something he would wait for as to limit the bleeding it already caused. The arrow was a wider gap than the two slices were, the bleeding would be more profuse.
No more than a handful of steps, and a roaring blast of heated air pushed the Isaki forward, knocking him easily down. His entire back side stung, not minorly, but in extensive pain. He cried out, but he couldn't hear himself. His ears ringing was louder than anything else; he couldn't even hear himself think. The blast left him feeling dizzy, disoriented. He could see for but a moment and was left back into the darkness. It was some miracle that the projectiles didn't hit the stationary body. He grabbed at a tree as soon as he could and pulled himself up.
"Quit this shit, you fucker!" he screamed out.
Seriously. Shit ain't funny, yo.
He continued forward, bleeding, injured, and with a light limp. He didn't lose yet.
WC: 486 / 2509