[Event] The War Dance of Fuujin and the Nian

[Santaru Rin]

Welcome, O Honorable Guest, and be blessed, for you have stumbled upon a wonder of the Village Hidden in the Clouds. Tonight is the night of one of the Great Dances--an event both competition and performance--and you, Honorable Guest, have roles to play as well.

For while Fuujin and the Nian dance the pattern of knives, you decide their fates. Is the battle a draw? Does the side of Life or the side of the Beast reign triumphant? Your choice determines the outcome. As a member of the audience, your feedback influences the rounds of play. Positive feedback helps Fuujin come out victorious. Negative feedback helps the Nian win and eat all the things, and neutral feedback means things end in a draw... At least, this year.

But did I not mention you had roles to play? Oh yes... On this night, the New Moon night, you take the place of the spirits who originally witnessed this great battle... And you take upon yourself that mask, that persona.

The event attracted a modest yet dedicated crowd every year. Civilians, shinobi, men, women; they all took their positions on the trestle-style benches arrayed around the circular stage. There were a few rows of these benches, ready for early arrivals and sufficiently drunk revelers, and atop them were festival masks--ogres, spooks, demons, and beasts of all stripes--just waiting for the audience to dawn them.

The wine and beer here was passed out freely among anyone of a likely age. Perhaps that was what kept the audience returning year after year. But while the quantity was great, the quality was not. The play had to provide something else, didn't it, to draw a crowd?

Organizers this year had been extremely secretive about who would play the roles of the performance's main combatants. Each year, some group or other took it upon themselves to sabotage the preparations for one or the other side of the show. This year, the organizers were confident that no such thing had happened. The show would go on as planned.

When all--or at least enough--folk had assembled, the show would begin, with all the stars in the night sky and the cold northern wind looking on. The fireworks whistled and boomed, but here, now, beat the living heart of the village's traditions... Getting drunk and watching people make fools of themselves with dangerous objects.

 

[Kogami Ayumu]

A young man entered the scene suddenly, looking quite fetching in his incredibly fashionable black jacket with authentic looking fake fur round the hood. The jacket was unbuttoned revealing his blue flannel long sleeved shirt that was just a bit long in the sleeves. To top it off, his black belt with an awesome silver buckle with a skull on it held his dark jeans up which extended down over his black boots. He also had a lovely pair of black gloves on, and his trademark rectangular black glasses. Goddamn he was a snappy dresser. This man's name was Ayumu.

'What am I doing here...' Ayumu thought as he strolled down the still mostly empty aisle between two sets of trestle benches. He had read the flyers, heard the talk, and had even been to a few of these things when he was younger. He knew what it was all about, and it had never terribly interested him, and yet here he was. Perhaps it was his distinct lack of plans on that day that led him to the desperation of attending such a corny event. It was some sort of desperation that brought him here. He snatched a beer off a table as he passed it and then moved towards a seat in the center of the front row. If he was going to be here, he might as well try to enjoy it and get himself a good view.

On his seat he found an ogre mask and picked it up turning it around in his hand to look at the face. It was ugly, hideous, and just all around unpleasant to look at. He shrugged and set his beer down on the bench, taking a moment to stretch the band around the back of his head and don the mask. That done, he took a seat and stretched his legs out in front of him taking in the sight of the stage through the eye holes of his new disguise. At the moment it was empty, but soon...! Soon, these seats would surely be packed!

He took his beer in hand once more and lifted up to take a sip, only to find that his mask was now totally in the way! He growled, lifting the mask up so that it rested on top of his head and left it there. Now that his drink receptacle was free once more, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip, tilting his head back ever so slightly. As he did, his mask began to slip off of the back of his head. His free hand quickly shot up and held it on with impressive speed. He was getting used to wearing that ANBU mask, after all- this was nothing. He finished his sip and simultaneously slipped the mask over his face once more as he lowered the beer.

"This stuff is awful..." he said to himself, lifting the bottle up and turning it around so that the label was facing him. He had never heard of it, which was made sense considering how it tasted. No wonder it was free. It was a ruse, a trick to attract people with the promise of free alcohol. Once they had arrived and found that it was terrible, they had already gone through all the trouble of coming. Diabolical bastards. He lifted his mask just high enough to get access to the bottle and took another sip. 'Well, when you factor in that it's free I suppose it tastes a little better...' he thought, dropping the mask fully over his face once more. He had to say that the mask and drink ideas were not going well together.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

“Free beer?! Of course I’m going!” scoffed Masao to the very moe male adjutant who followed him around the halls of the Sileo Tempestas. Rin had forbidden him from having moe female adjutants, but moe traversed gender boundaries, as he had learned from meeting Aion (in a dream, of course) and watching reruns of Ouran High School Host Club. “Someone has to like, ensure order. Yeah, order…” he muttered. “Anyway, hold my calls, have Tagiushi and Hoshiko do my paperwork for me, and fetch me my leisure suit,” he said brightly. He was off to the Fuujin Dance!

Of course, lest one think that Masao was simply being irresponsible and shirking work in favor of fun, he did actually have a valid point there. Everyone remembered the infamous “Ten Yen Beer Night” of ’32 BSE, which was a promotion that the Kelmura Ainu Warriors sponsored during their game with the Nikkei City Samurai in hopes of attracting more fans by offering deeply discounted beer for sale. Given that usual ballpark prices could be up to a hundred yen for a mere eight ounces of domestic pisswater, ten yen was a damned good deal for a whole twelve ounces. Of course, the night had become famous not for the rather mediocre ballgame itself, but for the catastrophic riot that had ensued due to a combination of a heavily intoxicated crowd and a disputed call by a referee at the bottom of the ninth. Fans armed with knives, chains, and pieces of torn-up stadium seating charged players armed with bats, and the event scored itself a well-deserved place in history.

Clad in a velvet suit with elbow patches, Masao arrived at the stagegrounds, sauntered through the crowd of revelers and thespians, and of course made for the most important part of the whole affair, the free beer. The other plebians were merely getting one beer at a time. But true praetorians double-fisted their drinks, young Roman! With his double-load of tasty beverage, he made his way to a nearby seat, also nearby another audience member who wore a garish ogre mask. Looking around, he chose a mask that seemed to fit the occasion: a jolly snowman wearing a blue jester’s cap.

“Persona!” he whooped to no one in particular, before slipping the mask on. Drinking his beers by tipping the mask slightly up with the rim of the cup in his other hand, he enjoyed his tipsiness. ~I must BUUURN MY BREEADDD~ he hummed to himself, a catchy pop tune stuck in his head.

 

[Umeki Rai]

[Earlier in the day]​

Rai stormed around his apartment in a fit of anger, for he could not locate the blue vest he had picked out for the night. Normally, such a petty thing wouldn't even scratch the surface of his conscious, but there was another thing on his mind that upset him. For the 5th year in a row, the organizers of the annual dance had refused to acknowledge his passion and grace, favoring other candidates for the performing roles. He worked hard in his audition year after year, but his hard work never came to a meaningful end. His effort constantly went unnoticed, and it was frustrating. He might not have been the best dancer, but he knew in his heart that he was perfect for the performing arts.

Someday they will recognize my talent, Rai thought as he finally found his chosen attire.

[Present time]​

Rai stumbled into the plaza, already affected by the drinks he had at the bar just minutes before. He looked pretty snappy in his striped navy blue vest, light blue undershirt, and dark blue tie that was tucked under the vest. His black slacks complemented the look rather nicely. After taking a visit to the drink stand, Rai made his way to stands carrying two drinks. By the time he got to his seat, he was already done with one and had started on the other.

Rai didn't take into account anyone he was sitting by. He grabbed the closest mask, and fastened it onto his noggin with his newly freed hand. In his drunken stupor, he had put the mask on upside down, but didn't notice because he also put it on too high, which helped align the eye holes with his eyes. This was also good because the mask didn't cover his mouth in this position, so he was able to continue drinking. His resentment to the dance might have been evident in his demeanor, as he was slouched in his chair and didn't turn to talk to anybody. His temper was slowly burning in his stomach, or was that just the alcohol? Rai didn't know.

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" I shouted as I appeared on the front stage.

I was wearing my usual clothing; a blue noble's dress and cape. Not that the audience knew that. I held my white cape in front of me so that only it and the top of my blue hair could be seen.

"I am displeased to say that we are all in grave danger! Earlier today the god Fujin invaded our borders!"

I moved closer to the audience, "Fujin is of course the god of the Wind and he hails from the southernmost country of Wind Country. He is the patron of those dasterdly Suna-jin and no friend of ours!"

I dropped my cape, revealing myself. I had on my left hand a cat's mask.

"I am the lion warrior and I have come here to ask you all to join me in defeating this invader! Together we can repel him from our homeland and ensure the safety of our waifus and our children! Who here will stand by with me and fight this menace?"

As I waited for the audience's response I placed the cat's mask on, stringing a thin rope around the back of my head.

 

[Suzuki Setsu]

Kichida Kazuhiko -- Cloud Chuunin​

Kazuhiko was running late to the performance, it was one of his favorites, the War Dance of the Fuujin and the Nian. And although this would be his first time actually seeing the darned thing, he had been constantly busy for the last few years, cleaning up the mess his sensei left upon his sudden departure, being promoted to chuunin, taking on more missions, helping his mother with the revitalization of the Kichida clan, among other things. Finally, he could relax and enjoy a show.

As he got closer to the stage he noticed that everyone was wearing masks, and that he had left his at home. He was already late, as he could hear someone speaking onstage, so he didn’t want to miss anymore of the show. Thinking quickly, he grabbed a mask from a nearby vendor and dropped some bills on the counter before sprinting and warping into the stands. The mask he had grabbed was inspired by a character from a recent animated show, it had a mascot-like appearance and two round blue ears that wiggled while he spoke. Kazuhiko knew the character well, as his little brother quoted his lines excessively; sometimes it was simply un-bear-able.

Well, Kazuhiko had wanted a mask and character to play, and that’s what he got. So true to the spirit of the festival he donned as he warped into existence above a fellow wearing a ogre mask next to a slightly tipsy fellow who was cheerfully singing some such nonsense as immolating his baked goods, and yelling in an obnoxious voice, “Bear-sona, kuma!” he began his inevitable descent onto the unsuspecting festival-goer. Kazuhiko didn’t know he was there, or else he would have changed course, but Kazuhiko had never been by any standard the luckiest of shinobi.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

White cape and blue hair? Man, that performer sure reminds me of that pesky Fire Marshal, thought Masao to himself for no particular reason. Then again, most ethnic Kaminarijin had some sort of black or bluish hair, so really the person on stage could have been anyone. With a gulp, he downed his left beer and started to work on the right. Before long, it would be time to get a refill. Years of being a hardcore alcoholic had left him with a high tolerance that at its peak had meant that it took twenty shots of tequila during a lobster dinner in Bean Country to make him actually vomit. Why he had wasted such good lobster when it was so damnably expensive? Well, Hayata Shin had bought it as Shin was wont to do when he wanted to apologize for something, which meant that it was laughably easy to extort lobster out of the Raikage – all you had to do was claim that he’d stepped on your foot or something earlier in the day and presto: surf and turf with the most powerful man in Kumogakure. But the real issue was that he’d been able to ingest twenty shots of tequila at one point in his life. If that wasn’t irresponsible undergraduate antics, then nothing was.

"...Earlier today the god Fujin invaded our borders!” announced the performer, prompting Masao to boo along with the rest of the crowd. “Fujin is of course the god of the Wind and he hails from the southernmost country of Wind Country. He is the patron of those dasterdly Suna-jin and no friend of ours!"

“Terrorists ain’t gonna take mah freedumb fries!” Masao shouted, leaving it up to the reader to determine if he was actually being serious about renaming fast foods based on political clownery.

"I am the lion warrior and I have come here to ask you all to join me in defeating this invader! Together we can repel him from our homeland and ensure the safety of our waifus and our children! Who here will stand by with me and fight this menace?" asked the performer as she revealed her face and the cat’s mask!

“We love you, Fire Marshal! I mean Nyangoro! Shit, I mean, Nian!” Masao howled along with some others. “No one takes our waifu! Moe can only exist in 2D!”

 

[Hoshiko Gin]

It had been a long day of preparation for this event; there had to be ample time to find a suitable outfit and then she of course had to get primed for all the dranks that would be partaken of this evening. She had finally decided on a lavender purple dress, that was simple, but well-tailored to her figure. As she had been working on regaining her old shapeliness, this was the opportune time to display the work she had done to build herself back up.

Now, she wandered through the crowded event location, throwing back one of many drinks that day.

"S'ccccuuuusssee meeee" Came the boisterous caterwaul of the drunken kunoichi who was stumbling over legs and feet of complete strangers in efforts of finding a free seat. Ah hah! There we go! A spot came into sight next to a sharply dressed man, wearing a fur collared coat. But there was someone falling into him it seemed! This just wouldn't do. That spot was hers. She spun around to sit on the bench, only to trip over her other leg as they seemed to fold like a pretzel uncomfortably underneath her; falling atop of Ayumu's lap just in time to "save him" from the falling Chuunin, and holding out her hand to push Kazuhiko clumsily away. "Maaaiii sheeeat--" And a very comfortable one at that. Funny, the benches hadn't looked that comfy just a second ago. Wiggling to make herself comfortable, she realized she was sat higher up then the others. 'Levitations!?!?!?'

She bent her head backwards to see an ogre face, and flailed in surprise. "Gomen, Gomen!"

Gin scooted into her actual seat and giggled. "Yuu knoow, I remember a loooooonnnggg time ago, Morono-kun took me to one of theesse"

Her lip lowered into a pout and she sniffed. "He woonn't do that anymore though. He saayyss I'm a Whoo--"

She was cut off as the blue-haired girl on stage continued to talk amongst many boos from the crowd.

It donned on her that she was supposed to be wearing a mask;

"Where's mine Ogre-san?" She asked Ayumu, pointing at his mask.

 

[Kogami Ayumu]

Ayumu adjusted his mask, lining up the eye holes of the mask with his eyes and glasses as he peered out them at the new arrival. The man, clad in an amazingly fancy jacket with classy elbow pads, looked quite familiar to Ayumu. Once he got the eye holes straight, he finally recognized the man as the Vice Commander of his branch, Takaki Masao! He also appeared to have taken full advantage of the free beer being offered at the occasion. Ayumu looked down at his own beer which he had already finished, despite the fact that it was terrible. He quickly glanced around and saw a fairy masked waitress walking around with a tray of beer.

"Hey, lemme have one of those!" he called out, holding up a hand to catch the waitress's attention and get her to come over. As she came near he took two beers, wanting to follow his Vice Commander's shining example, and thanked the waitress for her service, even placing a bill on her tray as a tip. He was a swell guy, that Ayumu. As he watched the waitress walk away, he noticed a man who strangely had his mask on upside down, for what reason Ayumu couldn't guess. As he uncapped a fresh bottle, his gaze switched from upsidedownface kid to another familiar face. He recognized her as Hoshiko Gin, a woman whom he had just recently been on a mission with.

Gin was pretty cool, he thought- at the moment she seemed a touch intoxicated, and she was approaching. She tried to sit down and somehow landed directly on his lap while simultaneously pushing some person falling from above out of his collision course with Ayumu. 'Am I being attacked?!' he wondered as he watched the falling person land on the other side of him in an unoccupied seat. He had more pressing concerns, however, as his sempai wriggled around on his lap, apparently not aware that he was not a seat. This was... dangerous.

"S-sempai..." he whispered, trying to alert her to the fact that he was not the bench. He couldn't speak, he was a bit debilitated by his current situation. She tilted her head back to see his masked face and finally realized she was sitting on a lap. She flailed and apologized as Ayumu sat still as a stone, completely rigid and probably actually even incapable of moving if he wanted to. She removed herself from his lap and landed next to him, giggling. He could smell the alcohol on her, she was definitely quite drunk. Now that he was safe, he laughed a little, interested to see his sempai in a non-work setting- especially drunk. Suddenly, she was talking about somebody named Morono, and it barely clicked that she was talking about Moro. Was there some history between them?

His attention was snatched away by sudden noise coming from the stage. Was the show starting already? A woman of small stature stood on the stage, obscuring view of herself with her cape. Apparently a god named Fujin was assailing them from the lands of Wind Country to the south. Before them now stood the lion warrior, come to enlist their aid in defending the land. Wait, did she just say waifus? She appeared to be waiting for something, Ayumu didn't know what, so he simply clapped politely. Meanwhile, the Vice Commander was shouting loudly at the stage, apparently intoxicated as well. Was he the only one still sober? He lifted his mask slightly and tilted the bottle up to pour some beer down his throat. Gin asked about his mask, prompting him to look down between them. She was partially sitting on a mask which he reached down and pried away to show her.

"Here, let me," he said, stretching the elastic band and lifting it over her head, carefully placing the mask on her head. She was drunk, after all, and would probably end up like upsidedownface kid if she tried herself. Ayumu was so helpful. Actually, he hadn't even looked at the mask until now. He admired it for a moment before nodding and giving a thumbs-up of approval. It didn't matter which mask they were wearing, right? He had just picked up whatever mask was in his seat. He was now starting to worry about how he had heard that the crowd was supposed to interact. What exactly what he do as an ogre?

"Have you been to one of these before? Are we shupposed- ahem, supposed to do something?" he asked Gin, still not having realized that she might not realize who he was since he had been wearing his mask since she arrived. He lifted up the bottom of his mask once more to take another long swig of beer. Oh dear, he had emptied that bottle as well! He twisted the top off his third and turned to the man who had almost landed on him a moment ago. He had already forgiven him, thankfully. Based on what he had said a moment ago, he seemed to be really in to his character (the bear).

"Do you know what we're supposhed to do?" he asked Kazuhiko as well, just to cover his bases. Now that he thought about it, was he supposed to be taking? There was somebody on stage. Then again, the Vice Commander had been shouting a moment ago, so a little bit of talking was probably fine, right? 'Yeah, definitely!' he thought, nodding in agreement with himself. He looked back at the stage, wondering if the lion warrior would give them instruction.

OoC: Sorry, the size of this got out of hand...

 

[Horo Danshi]

Horo Danshi was in a pickle.

This was apparent from just about any way the situation was examined. Oh, it had started innocently enough. When did it not start innocently enough? It had been a day some months back, a warm day for the Village Hidden in the Clouds, and so like any warm-blooded Kumo shinobi, Horo Danshi had immediately taken the opportunity to cringe away from it in some favorite back-alley haunt where the company was liquid and plentiful. He had sipped his foamy brew, tossed some watery shots, annihilated a plate of nachos (it was summer and cheese was coming fresh from the lowlands by caravan), and been merrily on his way when a crowd around a table in the Dawnbringer’s Plaza had attracted his attention with their commotion.

The assembled shinobi were speaking of many things: of dancing and festivals, of future events and traditions past. But it was when someone laughingly mentioned ”All the free beer, too!”[/color] that the Dipshit Kid suddenly found himself as part of that throng, pushing his way to the front to get a closer look.

”So let me get this VERY STRAIGHT,” he had said when faced with a confused-looking young thing sitting with a pile of forms at the head of the throng. ”Straight…as an ARROW!” He placed his hand on his heart in sincerity, and slurred not even a bit (!!!), just to make sure the listener knew of his seriousness. ”Free beer?”

”Well yes, that is always traditionally part of the ceremony, but—“

”Someone give this man A PEN!” the Dipshit Kid had howled, and in the severity of his need no less than half a dozen were instantly thrust his way. He had smiled a boozey smile at them, in that time. Had offered them the essential gift of his teeth and lovely gums. Oh, but how he had paid for it, accepting those innocent (and not at all scared or slightly afraid, not at all!) return smiles, making him feel all at rights inside.

How he was Horo-Horo paying for them now.

It had happened earlier in the week, when a courier to his residence in the Main Branch Barracks had delivered the message, the result of those many months past:

Dear Horo Danshi, Chuunin.

Please report to Main Branch Event Services – Costuming and Makeup, as soon as possible, to prepare for your role in the Fuujin and Nian war dance ceremony to take place in five days time…​

He had stopped reading, at that point. And such was his confusion that, contrary to most similar occurrences, he had actually wandered to the Main Branch to discover that, to his chagrin and dismay, he had been randomly selected from the pool of applicants for the position of a dancer in the annual performance, and deemed “adequate” to perform the required tasks. The Dipshit Kid had frozen at those words, had entered an absolute fugue state of terror and apprehension, and when he had emerged, was waving these same shinobi a fond farewell, as they filed away his measurements and requirements for the event.

It was, as previously mentioned, quite the pickle.

And so Horo Danshi had gone to the one force in his life that, he knew, would not lead him astray in his attempt to, once more, weasel his way out from under obligation’s scowling shadow.

”YOU’VE GOT ANOTHA THING COMIN TO YA BWA, YA THINK YO GONNA QUIT OUT DAT FESTIVAL!”

The shouting of Momma Horo was nothing unfamiliar in the small slum neighborhood where she made her residence, but even the practiced ears of her (admittedly few) neighbors cringed and smarted at the volume and violence of this particular outburst. Meanwhile, within the Horo Residence, Horo Danshi himself was flying calmly through the air, a disappointed tear in his eye, a bruise rapidly forming on his chin where his mother had delivered a not-wholly-unexpected-but-that-didn’t-make-it-unavoidable-no-no-Horo-day blow with her eternal weapon: a wooden spoon. He crashed against a wall of pans, and quickly was on his feet again, setting right whatever mess his inconvenient frame had made in the small and grimy kitchenette.

”But momma-“ he began as he adjusted a frying pan perfectly onto a nail driven into the fading whitewash of the kitchen wall.

”YA DON’T BUT ME, BWA,” the bellowing answer came, and once more his mother was at him, whapping at his face and sides with earthquake-strength blows. ”Do ya KNOW,” she began, punctuating each beat with another casual, debilitating strike. ”How MUCH. Your FATHER. (raidendamnhisworthlessSOUL.) LOVED. THE. FESTIVAL.”

”But daddy-“

”He took ME THERE ya TWIT, before you was even SNOT and a TWINKLE.” One more blow and the oversized matron turned back to her place at the kitchen table, slumping there, resting on the sagging old wood that composed its frame. ”Is memories there, bwa. When I was young and P-R-ETT-Y, would go to dem dances, watch them young thangs dance, wonder: “Now little lady, you gon’ be on that stage this year? And never was. Never was.”

She leaned forward to consider her son, who was staring back at her blankly from the kitchen sink. ”Now you are not gonna give up that opportunity what yo’ dear momma lost so long ago, are ya nah?”

And so, Horo Danshi pickled still more. And as the days went by and he heard more and more what was expected of him, as the fiasco built ever larger in his mind, he decided on the day of the great performance that there was only one thing to do in order to maintain both Horo duty and Horo Honor: call for reinforcements.

So it was that one Gateru Risu received the following, scrawled in nearly-illegible panic font on the back of a receipt for alka seltzer and potato chips from the local druggist:</COLOR>

hay Risu-sama sup sup is Horo Danshi grrl u remember rite we had that misshin. FUNTIMES LOLOL. Neway there was that part where we were sposed to get a drink but it nevr happened and but so this festival tonite is gonna be off the chaaaaaaaain an I am in it look I need u 2 help. Just like make sure that not EVERY BODY boos me rite cuz that wood make my mom sad n FK THAT MAN you never met my mom shes a nice lady but WOA ukno wut I mean rite neway c u there??????????

***​

<COLOR color="darkblue">

And now, the dance was beginning. Horo Danshi stretched nervously offstage, staring at the mask that was meant to, somehow, invoke an ancient battle that even myth itself had nearly forgotten it was just so Horo Horo old. A role he would need to invoke tonight. He knew his momma was out there somewhere. He hoped that he had some other allies out there as well.

A sound of cheers and boos rose from the stage beyond as his competition took the stage. Raiden’s low-hanging speedbag, the chuunin cursed inwardly, hearing the already-drunken response, both envious and scurred and man, way too sober. He would need to step it up. It was. Time. To step. It. UP.

Mask in hand, Horo Danshi vaulted onto the stage. His costume was in stark contrast to the other performer’s, all earth tones and silver, the slates of the old gods, the stone of the mountains that built the village rather than the storms that were their trials. He regarded the circle of the audience, taking in what few details he could allow himself, trying (but on the first scan failing) to register a friendly face. The scene was already set against him. He would need to make his opening salvo count.

He had cleared his throat during the leap, and so it was with absolute clarity and certainty that the Dipshit Kid hoisted his mask into the air and, spreading his cape of dark feathers with like the utmost theatricality, declared to the assembled throng:

”Kumoooooooo!

Who is getting DRUNK to-NIGHT!?!”

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

I starred at the opposite end of the stage. My opponent, Fuujin, hadn't shown up yet. A few people had reacted to my call for arms against him, but I had been mostly ignored. It didn't seem as if the crowd was too excited either way for what happened. Was it because I was a woman? No! Kumogakure was progressive and didn't judge people on such things.

I-it was because I was boring. That was it, was it not? I was boring! A sham! A used paper towel on the bathroom floor of society! It would be best for a thing like me to just fall off stage and let these people enjoy their free beer.

I was about to do just that, even going as far as drawing my sword from its sheathe beginning to point it to me in order to perform suicide, when he appeared. It was Fuujin and he had a stupid smile on his face. He blurted out something about 'who is getting DRUNK to-NIGHT?'. Haha. Very funny. I bet he would get a standing ovation from the crowd. People loved gods like Fuujin. There was no place for cat-demons like me though. I was an unwanted guest!

They even went as far as basing their New Years celebrations over success in making me go away.

WELL NO LONGER!

I redirected my sword toward Fuujin and shouted at him,

"YOU HARLET! YOU WHORE!"

I drew closer to him, "YOU STOLE MY HUSBANDO FROM ME. IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU THAT HE LEFT ME!"

"Or do you think I did not know of your affair with him? I went to the woods to work everyday. I hoped that my husbando would understand I put in long hours so he wouldn't have to work hard. But he didn't, did he? No, he got bored, and in his boredom he looked toward you for pleasure. You could have told him no, but like the trash you are you invited him into your backdoor!"

I stopped myself from moving closer to Fuujin and directed my eyes towards the crowd off-stage, "I ask you all again. Will you not fight with me? Raise your swords and fight with me against this foreigner!"

I quickly added, "You could all help by, you know, throwing a shuriken towards Fuujin so he is distracted when I try to stab him with my sword. I will, like, buy nachos for you all if you help."







"Pretty please?"

 

[Suzuki Setsu]

Kichida Kazuhiko -- Cloud Chuunin​

Kazuhiko tumbled as he was pushed to the side by a clearly drunk kunoichi, "Maaaiii sheeat--" were the worsd that tumbled from her mouth. Kazuhiko hated drunk people, not so much because they were drunk, but because their actions became so much harder to predict. And thus such situations as the one he was in now developed, usually ending with him getting knocked over. You'd think being a Seikon with the power to bend reality itself would grant me some sort of immunity to the whimsical actions of drunkards, he inwardly sighed. But then he checked himself, he wasn't here as himself, Kazuhiko the sober Seikon, he had donned a mask and with it a new self. But before he could respond in character to the drunken assault on his person, the show began in earnest and Kauzhiko in his excitement promptly forgot all about the three ANBU sitting in a row. Then again, Kazuhiko probably wouldn't know that they were all ANBU and this was just someone pointing out a stange coincidence.

The arrival of Fuujin onstage brought the crowd 'round. "Kumoooooooo! Who is getting DRUNK to-NIGHT!?!" The crowd roared with approval, and many raised their various containers of alcohol to salute Nian's rival. Foreign devil or no, it was clear who between the two was the crowd favorite. Amidst the roaring crowd, Ogre-san, tuned to Kazuhiko and asked what exactly they were supposed to do. Kazuhiko, briefly slipping out of character, lifted his own mask and quietly explained.

"Act out your character, and respond to the stage. Pick a side and support it, basically. But support it as your character." Kazuhiko had just made up these instructions on the fly, after all this was the first festival he had been able to attend as well. However, in a nutshell he had just explained to Ayumu what exactly he was going to do until told otherwise, and by told otherwise I mean forcibly stopped.

It was about now when the blue-haired, Fire Marshal-resembling (if anything the bread burning man at the other end of the row said was reliable) Nian redoubled her efforts to do battle with Fuujin, again entreating the crowd's assistance by spouting the various crimes of the foreign deity. Ah, this dispute seems to be of a more personal bent, Kazuhiko thought to himself. What would the bear do in this situation? Obviously side with the girl.

"You could all help by, you know, throwing a shuriken towards Fuujin so he is distracted when I try to stab him with my sword. I will, like, buy nachos for you all if you help," the cat-demon suggested to the crowd. Grinning like a fool, Kazuhiko donned his mask once again, yelling loudly.

"Unforgivable, kuma. That sort of grizzly crime should not go unpunished for beary long, kuma. For Nian-nee-a and the north!" With that, the kuma-masked chuunin pulled an obnoxiously large shuriken from nowhere in particular, as shinobi are often wont to do in their spare time, and hurled it at the Fuujin-clad Horo. Kazuhiko had prepared this shuriken to be as non-lethal as possible, although how that would be accomplished is unknown considering its size and the velocity at which it was traveling towards Fuujin, and the shuriken wasn't aimed at the wind deity, it was aimed at the stage slightly in front of the deity. That should provide enough of a distraction, I think, Kazuhiko thought to himself gleefully. The prompt response to the cat-demon's request resulted in a flood of other projectiles from other Nian-nee-ans, as well as some people who were simply eager to throw things regadless of their target, being thrown at the wind deity, including actual shuriken, half-finished cups of beer, riceballs, and a few old socks among other things. The momentum of Kazuhiko's own throw had taken him forward a few rows, where he had landed atop the head of an extremely irritated appearing festival-goer with his mask on upside-down.

 

[Hoshiko Gin]

Something about this Ogre-San was very familiar, but she was unable to pinpoint why. It was true, he had called her Sempai and his voice was similar to that of a trainee green to the corps. She sat in silent delirium, before shrugging the thought off entirely as pure coincidence. A very strange coincidence. Another thing she found odd about this ogre man; he didn't play the part well. At all.

She watched his every move, as he gently reached to grab for her mask that was placed surprisingly unscathed under her. "Trying to graaabb somethin' that idn't youurs, Neh Ogre-San?" Remarked Gin with a smug smirk. He placed the fox mask in its rightful place, and her smirk broke to be replaced with a wry grin.

"Loooookkk Ogre-San youuurreee way to nice. Roar. See? ROOOOOOOAAAARRRR" The young woman demonstrated, before hiccuping. "See?"

Then again... Maybe Ogre's were nice to.

Oh well, he would have to be the first if not.

A waitress walked past them, catching her attention; because let's be honest, this year she wasn't here to see the show.

"Hiiiyyaaaa LaaDdy!" She lunged excitedly upward and across Ayumu yet again to catch the waitresses attention, wildly waving her right hand in the air. The ogre-masked boy was put in a strange predicament as his face came into full view of her breasts and forcibly diverted his attention from the ongoing "battle" playing out before them. Her chest lingered there tauntingly until she had finally received her drink, and could sit down.

Now satisfied, she went on into another tangent, completely irrelevant to the situation at hand. "I woooonder if that Metal-bending howler muuunkey is here..." She took a clumsy sip and moved side to side in an exaggerated imitation of her squadmate, Eru. "Ooooooohhhhhh Morrrrooonnnnnn-niiiiii-chan; I miiisseedd you sooo much." Her charcoal grays turned a steelish hue, as she clenched her hand into a fist, depositing the alcohol onto the ground, and crushing the receptacle into a ball of plastic.

"Touuuch my slack ass and my nonexistent Ta-Ta's--" Her eyes narrowed from behind her mask, and as the crowd roared in response to Fuujin and Nian, she continued further, "And he says I'm the Whoo---" Her voice was drowned out amongst the crowd again, only to be heard once more: "He's the bloody whore."

"YOU HARLET! YOU WHORE!" Was heard, and Gin stood up to throw her wadded up piece of plastic cup at the Fuujin of the night. "Yoouuu goooottt that right~~!"

She sat down again, mumbling about some sleazy bastard as the throwing and chaos around her forged on.

 

[Kogami Ayumu]

Another man appeared on stage now, although Ayumu was too distracted to look. Apparently he was the counterpart to the girl on the stage, though from the sound of it he was just interested in getting drunk- like most of the guests at the show. The white-haired man next to Ayumu responded to him, giving him some idea of what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to act out his character and support a side. 'So what, this is supposed to be... some kind of live action roleplay? That is SO lame,' he thought, shaking his head as he went to take the mask positioned partially under Gin's rump. Besides that, what exactly WAS his character? He wasn't really sure.

Ayumu's face reddened slightly under his mask as she suggested that he was trying to "grab" something, which he felt implied something other than the mask. He decided not to justify that with a response and instead finished placing the mask upon her head. It was ever so slightly crooked, but he was not placing his hands on her again. He rested them on his knees, far from where they could be accused of grabbing anything of Gin's. She then accused him of being too nice for an ogre, which honestly he hadn't even realized was the identity of his mask until she had started calling him that. Suddenly, she broke out in to a fierce drunken roar that seemed like it was directed right towards his ear. His hands shot up to cover his ears, though the damage had already been done. 'Nice? Who's nice? I'm not nice, I was just...' he started to think in protest when suddenly Gin's body lunged in front of him as she waved down a waitress. With his full view occupied with her chest, there was really nowhere else for Ayumu to stare. He was frozen up again as she entered his personal space once more, and whatever was happening on stage was more or less lost to him as his face turned an unbelievable shade of red. Even as Gin returned to her normal seated position, Ayumu was stuck staring in to the empty space where she had just been.

He started to loosen up once more a few moments later as Gin started to talk about some person they both knew. Only, Ayumu didn't realize that he knew the person being imitated, only that it was an acquaintance to both Gin and Moro apparently. It was also very apparent that Gin was jealous and clearly had some unresolved feelings for Moro. Ayumu was beginning to piece together the picture that his two ANBU had some former relationship that Gin was perhaps not entirely over. Why was she revealing this all to him? It was either because she was drunk or because she had no idea who he was. He guessed it was probably both. There was no question that she was wasted, and he had been wearing his mask since before she had arrived. Now he was stuck, because he really didn't want to deal with the awkwardness if she realized she had been talking about Moro to a colleague she didn't know well. She was in the process of impersonating this unknown acquaintance and killing a defenseless plastic cup when the crowd became noisy and interrupted her once more. Then she called Moro a whore.

Suddenly, commotion came from the stage as the blue haired actress began accusing the other actor of stealing her husbando. 'Whatever the hell that is...' Ayumu thought. She was practically begging them to help her, though the promise of nachos was not that tantalizing to Ayumu. Gin suddenly stood and threw the wadded up plastic cup at the man. Perhaps this was one of those audience participation parts. He was supposed to be an ogre, ogres were bad, right? Naturally, then, he would support the bad guy. Ayumu picked up a plastic cup that had rolled between his feet from the seats behind and balled it up like Gin had. He tossed it at the blue haired actress, aiming for her head (but not the face, because that would be dangerous).

"You just couldn't satisfy him, clearly!" Ayumu shouted at the girl. He was in character, though, so it was okay to be mean. At the moment he felt like supporting Fuujin, since he seemed like the underdog. For some reason, he also felt familiar. Now that he thought about it, he felt somewhat irritated with this man for some reason. Well, there was only one thing left to do. Turning around, he spotted a man holding an empty cup and took it gently from his hands before crumpling it and throwing it at Fuujin as well.

"And you! I don't like your face!" he yelled at the drunken actor whom seemed familiar. He guessed he was on nobody's side but his own now. Feeling a bit worked up now, he beckoned the waitress over and took another beer from her, this one in a cup. He lifted his mask just enough to drink a bit while keeping his identity secret still. At this point it was too late to reveal who he was to Gin. His best bet was to drink until he didn't care one way or the other. He turned to Gin, already feeling less like he cared, and patted her on the back.

"You tell 'em Foxxy-chan! You are a strong independent fox that DON'T NEED NO MAN!" he exclaimed, still patting her enthusiastically on the back. It was like he had flipped a switch with that last drink.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Nice! It’s Gin and she’s totally fuckin’ wasted, he snickered to himself on seeing Hoshiko Gin flopping around like an intoxicated guppy on the nearby Ogre’s lap. She had obviously been pregaming like it was her calling in life, and probably couldn’t tell the difference between her elbows and asshole! Wait a sec…wasn’t she supposed to be filling out paperwork for me at the Sileo?! Well, whatever, Moro can do it. After all, he’s my cute male adjutant! Come to think of it, he and Gin would be really cute together, but hell, most of the SoD is cute together, thought Masao, tipsy on moe and beer and now just openly shipping the stupidest combinations possible. Yes, shipping was one of his guilty pleasures, ya damned dirty casual.

”Kumoooooooo! Who is getting DRUNK to-NIGHT!?!” suddenly roared a new performer who leapt onto the stage with the feathery flashiness of a dead piano-playing superstar. Of course, being that he was getting fabulously drunk tonight, Masao’s initial reaction was to shout an affirmative “JIBUN WO!” in the direction of the performer, only to have his throat close mid-“wo” after realizing who the performer actually was.

“Motherfucker!” he growled at Horo Danshi, balling his fists in rage. And he had been having such delightful drunken fun hooting at the Fire Marshal’s antics on stage, too. This must have been deliberately planned by that film-noir caricature-of-a-sennin Souseiki, he realized. To cast Horo Danshi as Fuujin was sheer, malicious brilliance at its best. It would ensure that Masao and any ANBU in the audience would spend the rest of the night fuming and writhing with the desire to simply draw their bolters and fill him with many holes in calibers ranging from .17 to .998 (someone always overcompensated like that). Fortunately, the Fire Marshal Nian now decided to take back control of the chaos on and offstage, redirecting her sword from herself to Horo Fuujin.

"YOU STOLE MY HUSBANDO FROM ME. IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU THAT HE LEFT ME!" declared the Cat.

“Horo Fuujin, you NTR-ing bastard! It’s because of you that I can’t just enjoy doujinshi like normal!” shouted Masao in agreement. Yes, he had admitted it – he was lame and liked straight-up vanilla. As the Nian entreated the audience to throw large and dangerous objects at Fuujin, Masao’s smile grew devilish behind his mask.

"Unforgivable, kuma. That sort of grizzly crime should not go unpunished for beary long, kuma. For Nian-nee-a and the north!” shouted a...a bear nearby.

Whoa, that creature just pulled a gigantic shuriken out of its ass. Wait a second, does it even have a digestive system? I know it’s supposed to be a bear but that’s no fuckin’ bear. Atlus are you even trying? Masao wondered as he tossed a fire extinguisher at Fuujin. The same fire extinguisher he had just braved the depths of hell to refill for the benefit of said Fire Marshal.

 

[Tagiushi Moro]

Away from the two heathen gods that were now duking it out in a drank-fueled breakdance fight, distant from the arena with its roaring, masquerading patrons, hoisting their ethanol to their craws, spilling more than they imbibed. Away from any talk or hint of sexual promiscuity, whores, or husbandos; flying between brightly colored and overly decorated streets with their hanging paper lanterns of almost any imaginable shade or hue, past street vendors hawking "fries with eyes", (deep fried sardines that were eaten whole) and okonomiyaki, through dirty slums where liquor was just as prevalent, if celebrations were only that of simply being alive, we bring you, for a brief moment, to the dark and imposing Sileo Tempestas, where a poor, lonely ANBU operative sat in a dank and smelly cubicle, methodically plodding his way through an enormous mound of paperwork left over from the Raiden's Breath.

For the thousandth time, Tagiushi Moro forged the Vice Commander Takaki Masao's signature with a stamp and sighed. Various papertrails from a host of different sources, all claiming some sort of recompense for damages, were thoroughly, impartially, and without exception, unceasingly-*THUMP*-denied. With each stamp, a letter from an equally large stack was pulled to be attached with the claim, the organization's blanket response:

Dear __________,

I extend my deepest condolences to hear that you or your property/loved ones was/were harmed in some way, shape, or form by the action of our corps. However, any claim should be submitted to the desk of one Main Branch Sennin: Souseiki for any hope of recompense, as the actions of the ANBU are protected by Kaminari No Kuni Martial Law. Thank you for your time and patience and I wish you Ausperity in all of your future endeavors.

Fondest Regards,
_________________

Moro sneezed suddenly, dragging the pen errantly across the scroll he had been working on, filling out the name of a farmer who was seeking damages. (Having heard the high-speed hail of explosions as the Raiden's Breath chugged by, he found several of his cattle dead from multiple .73 caliber bolt wounds upon investigating.) Sneezing twice more in rapid succession, he sniffed and wiped his noise with a response letter, barely managing to fill out a few more forms before his chin gently contacted the desk as he nodded off to sleep.

__________

He awoke with a start feeling a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry sir, just a couple more hours and I'll finish these--err." He spoke as he turned, except instead of the Vice Commander's hand on his shoulder, there stood a pink haired boy, around academy age. "Just make sure you work doubletime, Tagiushi." The boy pulled a flask out of his pocket and sipped before continuing, "I have the Reagent commander so far up my ass about this that she could check my tonsils."

"I...err...what..." Moro stammered uselessly, mortified as the boy now pulled a cigarette from nowhere and lit it. "I appreciate you handling this, Tagiushi. I know how much you like free beer, and I've got a story or two that you'd love to hear." He grinned knowingly. Moro just stared, mouth agape.

The boy then gestured behind Moro, and he turned in the indicated direction. There, to his horror, was Gin, wearing nothing but a golden string bra with neon pink bootyshorts, matching the color of the boy's hair, writhing and gyrating in the lap of a 12 ft. tall ogre, who sat as still as a statue, blushing beet red. "Now see what you've done?" the boy said, "This all could've been prevented if you hadn't been so goddamn beta. Thankfully, you're closing in on wizard status pretty rapidly now. Might as well just wait. Magic is way cooler than chakra, amirite?" Moro started to shake, still silent, unable to find his voice or move as the boy now closed in on him and loosely gripped his cheek between forefinger and thumb, "My little ANBU can't possibly be this cute!" the statement punctuated by the most painful pinch ever experienced by man.

__________

Moro started awake, and looked at the clock. Only a couple hours had passed. "Raiden above how horrifying..." he said, shaking his head before returning to the mountain of paper and scribbling away like his life depended on it.

 

[Umeki Rai]

Rai was barely paying attention to anything that was happening on stage. At one point, he heard one of the actors belt out something about getting drunk tonight, which resulted in a grand applause from the crowd. After that, there was some blabbering by the other person, none of which Rai picked up at all, but resulted in a slew of objects being launched in the Fuujin's direction. By this time, Rai was pretty far gone. He had already been back to the drink stand multiple times, and was currently on his sixth or eighth beverage. Counting wasn't something drunk people were good at.

In response to the commotion being caused by all of the objects flying, Rai thought it would be a pretty good idea to add his own projectile into the fray. He stood up very carefully, nearly falling a couple of times. His balance was incredibly bad. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a normal shuriken and took aim at the Fuujin. He reached back, and gave the shuriken a toss in what he thought would be the direction of the stage.

In his drunken stupor, Rai's ability to throw a shuriken greatly decreased. The motion of his arm flying forward sent his body spinning completely out of control. As a result, he spun around and launched the shuriken into the audience. He didn't know where it went, but someone was definitely going to be pissed. After completing a full rotation, he tried to regain his footing, which caused him to stumble forward and fall face first onto the ground between the first row and the stage.

Now dizzy, Rai thought it would be best to just lay there for a second and attempt to compose himself. He wasn't completely plastered yet, so maybe he could somehow avoid a fight with whoever he just threw his shuriken at and possibly make it out of the plaza without completely embarrassing himself. However, his attention averted to something else. He had an incredibly strong urge to do something. At first, he didn't quite understand what was going on, but then he gave in and felt incredibly relaxed.

As Rai lay there on the ground, he began to relinquish the control of his bladder. He was peeing himself.

 

[Risu]

“No noooo, I'm asking for the top shelf stuff, the good drank, the cream- Oh just hand it over, 's not like you're a real bartender. Alls free here at the glorious... glorious... Whas the name of these festivities again? Looook, I know you're hiding something better.” Risu flashed the half-drunk attendee... drink caretaker... guy... a brilliant smile, and perhaps a fair amount of skin considering the dress, or was it half a dress?, that she was wearing. As for the masks? Well, she had one, but after deciding to go all out, because, pfft why not? It was on her head, tilted at that perfect picturesque angle so as not to obscure the makeup that would most probably be smeared or gone by the time the sun had a chance to gaze upon it. Such were the expectations for the night. But that was an ending point! Here, now. The beginning.

That said, the party was already in full swing by time Risu made her appearance. Kumogakure was a beautiful city. No even the land around it was charming. Perhaps it was the bias one had for home, but such feelings were those that the filled the young woman as she gazed upon the rolling vibrancy that was Kumogakure this night. The mass of people in hued robes, decorations stretching from the gaudiest of baubles to more intricate craftsmanship, an excess of lights attempting to rival the stars above them and the signature festival masks all swirled together into mosaic of visual noise dowsed in an alcoholic blur. The streaking whipcrack of the still going fireworks attempted to drown out the boisterousness of the crowd and music alike but such was a futile endeavor as more and more people joined, and more and more liquid confidence filled them.

Confidence, or craziness. Already she had kicked away three men who had been hoping for a more tender touch. The latest was trying to figure out how he wound up on the roof. His answer, as was most people's answer for any trying question on such a night: more beer. More wine. More dancing. So the odd sight of a lone man dancing without the slightest bit of coordination nor care on a rooftop suddenly seemed like a great idea. Risu had only laughed when young men looking for amusement or seeking to impress clambered on top of buildings to the whistles and shouts of encouragement of friends and random passerbies. All in the name revelry. A call for more music went out. More ale!

So it was in good spirits that the woman made her way towards the center stage in order to support that damned HoroHoro. Support. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. The answer, as shown earlier, was to drink. So she took another swig and watched the scene start to unfold.

”Kumoooooooo!

Who is getting DRUNK to-NIGHT!?!”

“You're already drunk, HOROFUUUUUUJIN,” she called good-naturedly back and as her voice blended with the crowd's response she caught a familiar tone. Was that Masao? She shoved her way through the crowed to search for it. Supposedly the vice-commander was a splendid drunk and Risu was not going to pass up the opportunity. Unfortunately in her scramble she threw off the aim of many a person attempting to fulfill the Nian's plea for aid. What happens when you throw off the aim of people who are already drunk and not using the best concentration? The answer is to take another drink.

She popped up quickly to take another look around, and noted Horo dancing to the tune of the incoming barrage. Surely none of this was in the script, but hillarious none the less. “HEY HORO BOOOOOIIII, CATCH!!!” she screamed over the masses before tossing out a small bottle of wine at him in a nice easy arc. Attached he would find the following message:

Hey HoroHoro 8D

Break a leg~ (Or two~)

PS. Make yo momma proud (or else!)
PPS. Just GritItGritIt (GritIt)
PPS. No worries, u da bes (#1)

 

[Horo Danshi]

Horo Danshi basked in the response from the uproarious crowd surrounding him. Oh yes, the sober Horo-brain recognized. If there was anything, anything at all, to get the rabble roused at an event like this, then it was to invoke that most traditional of festival spirits -- the kind that could be found in a glass or bottle. The Dipshit Kid's reptile brain preyed on this factoid, threw it back to the surrounding throng of the audience. Feast upon me! his posture seemed to imply. Find in me Fuujin, lord of the drunken dance, the undeniable undulations of your bo-deh, the shaky-shaky sass in your a-

"YOU HARLOT! YOU WHORE!"

Horo Danshi blinked, interrupted in his reverie. It seemed someone in the crowd was getting out of control! Well that was too Horo Horo bad. But (and the chuunin felt a particularly cold drop of sweat slide down his neckline) as long as it did not involve him or his act, he would be just fine. There would be no reason to displease his momma, who was most assuredly out there somewhere, hiding from sight, scrutinizing her bwa's every given move, willing his victory in the performance forward (oh good sweet Raiden pleaseeeee let it be a victory in the performance moving forward).

But then.

"YOU STOLE MY HUSBANDO FROM ME!"Oh dearie goodness Horo gracious this is a poor argument, this is a bad fight tsk tsk tsk-"IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU THAT HE LEFT ME!"

And then, of course, Horo Danshi, the would-be Fuujin, realized that the diatribe was not just the random noise from the crowd but. Well and truly. Directed. At. Him.

Instantly the ruckus of the crowd magnified, and before he knew it the Dipshit Kid found himself dancing despite himself, dodging the colorful insults (and the thrown objects!) of those in the crowd who had taken the cat-creature's side (were they so easily fooled? WAS THERE NOT A SOBER MIND AMONGST THE- oh wait it was a Kumogakure Event topic what was Horo Danshi thinking lolol). Oh it had slandered him into a fine pudding that creature had, had played poor Fuuji-Fuuji-chan for the object of a nefarious reverse-cuckoldry! Whoever the opposite actress was, in her costume and her mask, she was a frightening opponent in-Horo-Horo-deed!

And so the chuunin's dance took on a conciliatory, pleading aspect as well. "Don't listen to Pussy-chan!" he wailed as he narrowly dodged a fire extinguisher that zoomed in from the bleachers at kneecap-shattering velocity. "Heed not the nefarious liiiiiies!" he squealed as he ducked to avoid an enormous blunted shuriken that nevertheless would have brained the less-prepared (read: non-superhuman shinobi) contestant. "I mean look at me is this a face that could seduce anyoooooone?" he debated, actually in a totally sober and reasonable fashion, if anyone would take the time to notice, as he shimmered momentarily into and out of phase to let a glass of beer fly through him.

There was a shout from the crowd that registered just on the razor's edge of familiarity, causing the Dipshit Kid to desperately catch, rather than desperately evade, one of the objects that was headed in his direction. The universe was feeling generous to its Seikon charge that day, and so it was that the attached not did not only make itself known to him, but actually unattached itself mid-flight, opened fully, and fluttered flatly onto his face with a sudden gust of wind. Shaking the hell out of his newly-discovered alcolols with his one hand, Horo Danshi removed the note with his other, to find scrawled within a message from the one thing he truly, desperately needed at this moment:

Reinforcements.

The message itself was merely a note of encouragement. Appreciated, surely (oh, Horo Danshi had friends, friends!!!), but in and of itself, only the medium for the greater, more important notion that crossed the Dipshit Kid's mind. For he saw, in his moment of desperation, that there was truly only one course of action left to him. For the God Fuujin to ascend to his rightful place in the Kumogakure pantheon, he would need to turn to that one place that was the most secure haven of all, for the wandering gods of old.

Ceasing his movements during a lull in the flood of projectiles, Horo Danshi hoisted his bottle of wine in the air, and struck out to secure the haven that was the Hearts of Men. Or, more specifically...

"Nian-chan has slandered me with impossible tales and has insinuated unpatriotic rewards for your unthinking aid!" the Dipshit Kid bellowed, voice suddenly strong and, wait, what, commanding??? Just what in the heck was the universe playing a- "She claims that I am the kept man of the Wind Country, while even now she bribes your cooperation with their salty tortilla snacks, cheese melted by their abominable, unmanning sun! I, Fuujin, wanderer of days past and present and yet to come, with this elixer" -- he hoisted the bottle in his hand, cleanly popping the half-lodged cork free with his thumb -- "Summon those agents of future days, that byword for vigilance itself, those lonely spirits who I honor to police my free-roaming and wandering, for whom masks are the reality of their appearance and every mask the truer face...

"ANBU of Kumogakure future! With this invocation I drink, and summon your aid: wreak ruin upon ruin, and dance that the day might rise and bring the wind to your peaks come morning once again!"

Horo Danshi tipped back the bottle, and as he glugged the nasty-ass liquor down until there was barely a drop remaining, thanked Raijin and Shinbatsu and oh lordyloo all those other gods between that had given his mother the foresight to (painfully!) inscribe that speech on the inside of his forearms. What happened next?

Well. Uhm.

Uh.

¯\(°_o)/¯

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

Ouch. I felt a sword stabbing into my back after hearing back from the audience. "You just couldn't satisfy him, clearly!"

I-I so could satisfy him! I made him dinner and breakfast. I would have made him lunch, but he was away at work then. I kissed him at night and took care of him when he was sick. He was my everything, but then he took him away from me!

The audience seemed to have taken some sympathy on me and several projectiles found their way towards Fuijin. Curiously some of those who cheered me on also threw things at me. Was the audience even listening to us, or had they already decided to just become a mob and hit both of us?

Fuijin himself had taken the time to drink some booze and attempt summoning his allies.

I shrugged, took my sword, and simply lunged forward with my sword toward Fuijin,

"Give back Raiden! He is my husbando!"