The Brighter the Light, the Longer the Shadow <Jiro>

[Toraono Michino]

It was a Tuesday of all days.

Toraono Michino was well known as good boy. He was an average student at the Academy though it took him multiple tries to graduate, however, came from a good home. Despite having never known his mother and only recently learning the horrid back story that was his father, the male grew up in a loving home. The Toraono clan considered Michino as a cousin who was related to everyone and raised him approximately. The only thing he never had was a pair of parentals that doted on his his massive family did their own children. Even as a toddler he had to be kept away from the other kids in his sleep for that was often when his other side tried to take over his body. While it as not uncommon to have a bit of the demonic power that slept in the veins of most of his family, the poor boy had been ‘blessed’ with a huge amount of cursed energy. Most of his childhood was full of restless nights and it was only through sleeping herbs that he managed to find a way to rest soundly; even then he had still had the occasional night terrors.
It was only in the last year of his life had the teenager been free of his demonic influence. The power that he still had little control over still remained on that level for some extent, but, he now at least had some measure of his own and no longer needed to rely on a separate presence to do his dirty work.
At a single glance of the sixteen year old one wouldn’t imagine thoughts of him being weak despite how it was only recently he was getting the hang of being a ninja. The demonkin stood at six feet tall with a body chiseled from a strict training regiment he didn’t dare stop. It was without a doubt which clan he hailed from with the white tiger strips marking his deeply tan flesh, but, it was his ears, eyes, and hair that truly put him out in a crowd. The boy’s eyes were a fierce sky blue with feline pupils that seemed to be able to look into a person’s soul. His hair was a mane of bloody red with streaks of blond. He kept the longest part of it, from the nape of his neck far past his knees,tied up in a long strand of bound hair that looked more like a tail than it did hair. Then there was his ears. Inheriting from his father’s dead clan of the Ryuu were the elongated ears that were more similar to the fantasy race of elves.
The teenager’s entire upper body rarely had anything covering it other than a short leather vest with a fur collar and cloth wrappings around his hands. His bottoms were baggy tan cloth pants that he tied with a sword belt at his waste and with cord at the ankles over his forever bare feet.

On this day a call sent directly from the worst parts of Suna to the Toraono dojo asked for Michino by name and description. When he answered the teenager was expecting someone who saw him down there on the multiple regrettable occasions he had been forced that direction and was trying to black mail his hard earned reputation as a good guy; it was a damnable task in this village. Yet instead he got frantic whispers that were nearly drowned out by manic laughter. Instantly the Genin’s heart started to race as the boy’s hands stumbled around the call desk for a pen and paper frantically writing down the address and the reason why he was being attacked - back pay based on his father’s downfall.
Ryuu Tama was up until the last three months one of the rulers of the Sunan Underground and held onto his territory with an iron fist. Though despite his god-like control over the weather and electricity in particular he still had very powerful rivals. One of these such jumped on the opportunity to take over the area the Hybrid controlled and instantly started to sic goons and wanton destruction on anyone who didn’t want to fall under the new rule. While it was non of his business at all and any normal person would of simply sent the message along to the proper authorities, Toraono Michino had been raised with a strong sense of justice. Even if these people be the very street scum who sold drugs to children it was his fault they were coming under attack and his hand was forced to take action. His cousin at the desk look confused by his frantic face but she was only given a thanks, a wave, and a quick turn as Michino pushed his feet and chakra to the ground and darted off like a green basilisk lizard on cocaine.

It only took him moments to bounce and dart his way through the air over the new Sunagakure before taking the dive down into the deep. After hopping up into the air off a building he looked at the piece of paper in his hand to check the address before scanning over the streets from above. His sharp eyes caught he name in question and his heart skipped a beat as a momentary distraction of a couple of weeks ago crossed his mind; causing the male to slam into a building. Without missing a beat and shaking his head to clear his pain fogged mind the teenager bounced off the building to the one adjescent and scrambled along the wall until he found an alley between the two. Feeding a little chakra into the point in his palm he used the physical energy to help him glide down the side of the wall until he safely and soundlessly touched the ground. Immediately the boy crinkled his nose at the awful smell that was always here and considered for a moment about putting on the rebreather that crazy gang around here gave him; and thought twice since he was going to save someone. Best to just put up with the smell right now. Eyes narrowed the demonkin tried to keep his mind from a panic as he rushed into the worst part of town - the Black Bazaar.
Once deep into the crowd it only took him a second to find the shop he was looking for, as, an explosion followed by a gigantic fireball came bellowing out of the front door of the skinny three story building. Without hesitation beyond reeling from the force of the boom Michino shouldered through the crackling burning wood that was the remains of the front entrance and into the shop. Instantly he was concerned that this was a trap as there was all sorts of super explosive illegal things in the shop, however, a quick once over found the owner and his bleeding wife cradled in his arms tucked into the corner sobbing. Relieved it wasn’t a set up the large feline-esque human grabbed shelves and tossed them out of the way as he tore through the shop to grab the now even more startled owner and his wife. With every last ounce of muscle he had the youth pulled both of them out of the building and into the ally behind as another explosion tore through the air above them.

Michino dropped to the ground on his rear as he watched the man sob holding his wife. Getting a good look they both looked to be in their early fifties but with skin damage that showed an active party life. Suddenly the man and youth’s eyes met and he sobbed,
“Go, you have to get out of here now, save yourself.”
“W-what the hell,” the teenager panted as he tried to catch his second wind, “Are you going on about?”
“I-I don’t know who it was! I thought at first it was those Gas Light thugs making a move but then…he just stabbed my wife! For no reason. One second I’m trying to sale this guy something, the next he’s got knives in poor Ka….Ka…” the man’s eyes started to well up again but the Toraono moved forward onto one knee and grabbed him by the shoulders,
“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re going to get you both to a hospital.”

 

[Jiro]

It was a Tuesday. Jiro hated Tuesdays.

The Chigokai had never wanted to go back to Suna. No, that was not where he had been heading when he initially escaped the Kitsune's clutches. And it sure as hell was not the place he had expected to be reunited with the same man he had fled from, but it seemed fate was a cruel mistress and he could not seem to get himself away from the older male. He did not seem to mind so much now though. The new-found freedom had been a welcome shock to him. The blonde had not expected to be told he did not have to go back to the lab. He was finally free.

Being trapped in perpetual Hell for nine years did not seem to do him any favors in the mental health department however. The nineteen-year-old had been as unprepared for the world as it had been for him. Neither seemed to know what had hit them when he finally emerged -- leaving a trail of broken bodies and crimson rain in his wake. But one of his first lessons about the world was that Tuesdays were awful. They were boring and he never could seem to keep himself entertained for too long on these unusually slow, nondescript days. Jiro knew that he needed to train, but there was something that had been bothering him since he had awakened in the Sunan Hospital.

Where's the woman who birthed me?

As the thought ran through his head for what seemed to be the millionth time since he had returned, he rocked slightly in the corner he had been sitting in, nails digging into his own tattooed flesh as the other hand tugged at his own hair. He took a deep breath, giggling as he finally rose to his feet. The five-foot-eight Chigokai looked around the room, blue eyes widening as if just realizing where he was. He let out another laugh and got dressed, sliding his hooded jacket on. He did not bother zipping it up, not caring who saw the marks carved onto his body so meticulously. Jiro only had one thing on his mind, something he had never thought of until that moment.

Revenge...

The word tasted sweet in his own head. He smirked, licked his bottom lip slightly as he made his way out of the room. The house he had been staying in had been abandoned, one of the barely standing shambles that still stood near the site of the cave collapse. He knew a few of the Takashi famil did some black market business. Mostly some of his mother's brothers and sisters -- his aunts and uncles.

He wandered through the Black Bazaar, keeping himself focused. Different pulses, all of which beat at different times, intoxicated him. The sounds lulled him in, almost into a hypnotic state as he made his way through vendor after seedy vendor, selling items such as sharingan and byakugan, among other things. Looking around with wide-eyed curiosity. But soon, he felt a familiar blood pattern. It was similar to his own. His body trembled with a wave of excitement as he felt the flow of the blood pulse through him, luring him to a shop. It was a small, thin three-story shop. Walking through the door, he heard the jingling of the bell. He tilted his head as he looked up at the bell that produced the sound, watching it with fascination before he shook himself and made his way fully through the small shop. It was quaint and almost homey.

And then he saw a familiar woman. She was the spitting image of his mother. A mixture of emotions flooded through him -- betrayal, pain, hurt, but the one that reigned the most was hatred. It was the hatred that fuelled him. Hatred and anger. He had only been a child then and they sold him to the Kitsune, knowing what he was capable of. Of course, he had never blamed the male. How could he have? Akkuma had been the only person to care about him. But his own family had sold him, thrown him away.

The Chigokai made his way closer to the couple. He made quick work of what he had been doing. The shop was filled with explosives it seemed and all he needed to do was a simple jutsu. He knew that this side of his family were not Shinobi. They were just common villagers and the thought made him scoff. They think they're better than me... Another laugh as he ran a hand through his hair once more, biting his lip as he did. He did a few hand signals. Soon, he felt the floor beginning to heat up as he stood. The sensation of burning soon made him shiver in anticipation. Once it was heated enough, he noticed smoke and then an explosion. The illegal fireworks had gone off. Once they did, he knew he would not get caught so easily.

It also made it easier for him to attack his aunt and uncle. He cut his hand on his hidden kunai. His chakra infused with the blood, wrapping around his hands and forming blood tiger claws. He soon pounced on the woman, stabbing her with the claws. Pulling out the claws as she fell to the ground, gripping her husband, gasping for air, he licked the blood off his weapon, smirking. But before he could do the same to his uncle, the man had taken the woman and ran. The blonde laughed wildly as he darted after them, not caring who or what he knocked over in his chase.

The Chigokai soon followed the couple out of the building and onto the public streets. What he saw had startled him, but he soon got his bearings again as he approached the sobbing man and the teenager he was talking to. "Where the fuck is Takashi Mei?" he demanded.

 

[Toraono Michino]

Another explosion tore through the air causing the already hot alleyway to start becoming unbearable. The Genin looked at his surroundings trying to guess the quickest path out of danger and towards the Sunan hospital. His blue eyes focused strong on the older woman as he pulled her away from the older man and started to do a once over of her wounds. They were not good. Blood was flowing almost freely from one of them and the throbs of leaking life were weakening with every beat of her heart. A panic shot into the teenager at that moment as the situation turned from possibly hopeful to straight grim; he would be lucky to even get her out of the slums alive.
Sweat started to form and drop down his brow freely as the male tried to quickly think of someway to slow the blood flow. All plans and practice rolled back to his only fail safe in this situation; Genjiutsu. As he tore away some of the older woman’s shirt, much to her husband’s protest, he found it ironic that despite his extensive knowledge of the human body he failed on learning how to fix it. A large part of his self training suddenly became lacking and as he placed his hand on the middle-aged woman’s forehead to trick her body into slowly the blood flow down he knew that in that moment he was a failure. Just like the other recent life lessons that came crashing down on him all too hard the pubescent boy was feeling the heavy weight of reality; he couldn’t save anyone like this.

It was in those deepening pits of despair did he hear the voice of another male cry out in anger. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he could feel the demonic energy in the pit of his stomach beginning to stir. The blood lust of the man behind him was palpable. Michino cautiously placed the makeshift-bandages against the woman’s wound and slowly grabbed her husband’s hand to move them over the treated site.
“Keep pressure on it,” he whispered to the man as the demonkin slowly stood up as to not make any sudden movements to trigger the psycho behind him. Deliberately he turned and targeted his fierce burning blue eyes into Jiro’s skull. For not the first time in his life the teen was feeling the deep rage of the Toraono clan twisting in his stomach; with an ironclad will did he hold it down.
“You,” he spoke up to answer Jiro’s question, “I don’t know who you search for, but, if they were in that shop there is little chance that they live anymore. I only saw two on my way through before the explosions,” the demonkin’s eyes narrowed a little, “They are behind me. Will you help?”

Ever the optimist. Even with every last once of his natural senses screaming at him the deeply tan youth held up to his belief that one should never judge a book by its cover. The blonde covered in blood before him could just honestly be another one of the denizens of this area looking for someone that they may be angry about possibly being dead. Until Jiro tipped his hand the Genin would avoid violence for as long as he could.

It is always harder to control the darkness inside when he’s angry.
[MFT|597]

 

[Jiro]

Jiro felt the explosion tear through the air, making the ground shake slightly under them as he exited the shop. He tried to track the bloodflow of his aunt, followed the dripping of her blood. It was all too easy for him if he was honest. He watched for a moment as another shinobi seemed to be taking care of them. Maybe I shouldn't have done that much damage... The thought made him giggle a bit as he rocked back and forth on his heels, biting his lip slightly as he moved to approach the couple, only for the boy tending to them to whirl around to face him.

He took a step closer, watching the blood flowing from his aunt's wounds. His blue eyes honed in on the blood. The sight made him tremble slightly in excitement, body shaking in anticipation of what was going to come next. His eyes soon darted back to the younger male in front of him then, body tensing as he seemed to be placing himself between his relatives and Jiro, almost like some human shield. At his words, the Chigokai shook his head.

"She wasn't in the shop," he answered, giggling slightly. The unhinged eighteen-year-old rocked back and forth slightly as he spoke, seemingly muttering under his breath. He took a step closer then, trying to see the couple from behind the feline-like younger male. He smirked widely before looking at the couple, meeting the husband's fearful eyes. And then he moved closer, trying to step behind the male to move in front of the woman.

"I can help you," he told her. "But I don't know if you'd let your freak nephew touching you. Now where the fuck's Mei?" His voice was low, dangerous. With a motion of his hand, the blood stopped dripping, ceasing as he controlled it with his Chigokai abilities.

Once he got the blood in control, he looked at his uncle. "Where's Mei?" he demanded once more as he released his hold on the blood, letting it flow out. This time, however, the crimson liquid trickled out faster. "I'll let her bleed out if you don't tell me where the hell she is..." Blue eyes soon met the Shinobi's blue eyes. "You can fuck off now. This's a family matter..." 382

He looked from his aunt and uncle to the kid again. His body tensed, knowing a fight could break out. Jiro soon waved his hand dismissively at him again. "Why aren't you leaving?!" he hissed out at the other Shinobi. "This doesn't concern you!"

[MFT]
[WC: 426]

 

[Toraono Michino]

For a moment the teenager had no idea what was going to happen. The tension in the air created by heat and adrenaline was thick on the demonkin’s tongue as we waited in response.
For the first time in his life that he could remember someone actually met his eyes, someone that wasn’t Toraono Kuro, and didn’t flinch. Even his own father still couldn’t stare into his own son’s eyes because they seemed to have a soul piercing glare to them; a look that seemed to bring up a man’s guilt to the surface. The blue orbs of righteousness seemed to have no effect on Jiro as he watched the older man walk right past the sixteen-year old. Everything inside of the teenager’s mind screamed ‘grab him! Stop him! Do something!’ …but ‘Chino could only stand in still terror as Jiro’s bloodlust suddenly became a flavor in his mouth. A cold sweat of fear started to mix in with the heated one as he forced his body to turn.
The young demon blooded watched the exchange. Witnessed the terror in the older man’s eyes. Watched in his own horror as Jiro said he’d help and used, what he assumed, was his own relative as blackmail right in front of him. The feline’s piercing blue eyes stayed transfixed on Jiro’s hand as it slowed down the wound’s bleeding to nothing and then suddenly faster than it had been when he applied the bandage. Even unconscious the Toraono could see the woman who teetered between life and death was suffering even more now. Yet the sheer daunting insanity he could feel coming off the blonde and the entire situation in general had the boy shaking down to his toes.

For as long as he could remember, Michino, had sucked at fighting. Before the incident that woke up his demonic heritage he was always placed as the back watcher when assigned to groups. The simple idea of violence made the boy sick. He had the mind and personality of a scholar thrust into a world where he had to be strong to stay on top. Especially with the failings of his clan, the teachings of his bad religion, and the dark history of the demonkin’s mysterious birth, he had everything to prove by being better; however he never got around to getting there on his own.
When the demon inside of him woke up and began to wrest control at whim the Toraono became a terror on the battlefield but, it wasn’t him. It was his other side; Owari.
Now the demon’s voice was gone and with it the control over his full powers as well as the will to fight. His mind was no longer split between Id and Ego as it had been for the last four years. Every decision and action was now his own and he had to learn how to handle situations as they came. The demonkin thought he had his life under control since his return and physical transformation…but here was thrust into a delicate situation that was moments from turning into a battle. The boy was still choking.
The thought of where he was suddenly occurred to him. This was the bad end of town. The people on the ground, no matter how overwhelmed, were probably of the bad kind. Everything that was happening had to be karma for their misdeeds and this blonde seeking revenge was no doubt justified. The teenager’s heart started to race faster as he tried to talk himself into just walking away. This really wasn’t his business and he had no idea how the old man even got the number to his dojo.

Toraono Michino’s foot started to lift up like he was going to turn and walk away.
"You can fuck off now. This's a family matter..."
His foot came back down.

Of all the words Jiro could of chose to use right then, he had to mention the word ‘family’. Something deep, deep, deep inside of Michino triggered hearing that phrase when he was watching the same blonde torture who he had indeed guessed correctly, was family. Images of the battle with his father flashed behind the curtain of his mind’s eye. The image of his own hand trying to lay harm to the man who had given him life. This was not family.
“This is not family. This is a mockery.”
“Why aren’t you leaving? This doesn’t concern you!”

The Toraono’s eyes flashed and black fire erupted from his right arm. He held it out as he slowly walked towards Jiro and his family with sheer rage seething from his vision,
“It does now,” he growled low before clenching his right hand into a fist one finger at a time. The flames shot down into the fist and broke off to form a macuahuitl blade. He then unleashed a battle cry that was like akin to that of a panther’s scream before he pushed off with his left foot to swing his fire blade at the mad man.

[MFT]

 

[Jiro]

Jiro could feel the tension in the air -- so thick one could cut it with a knife. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, biting his lip. A laugh escaped, letting what was left of his facade of sanity to crumble. The air seemed to swirl around him, filled with heat and hostility. It made him feel alive, free.

Brushing past the teenager, Jiro did not give him another gaze. He had more important things to worry about, like finding out where the bitch who had sold him to the kitsune was hiding now. He needed to know where she was. The chigokai wanted to give her a reason to fear him besides his bloodline. Jiro wanted to make her suffer, to make her bleed, to torture her the way he had been tortured.

Soon, he made his way to the woman who was bleeding out. He could feel her heartbeat getting weaker. Her pulse was fading and she was bleeding. Jiro decided to up the stakes a bit and something seemed to click in the old man's brain when he saw Jiro manipulated the blood. The sight of blood made him shiver slightly, pleasure trailing along his spine like a lover's caress as he shuddered, another cackle leaving his lips. The woman was bleeding out faster now, hovering on that thin line of life and death. Jiro had expected the kid to be gone, but it seemed that he was not leaving any time soon. That made the blonde even more excited. It was almost like he could sense the other's fear radiating from him.

The Chigokai seemed to thrive in violence. It was what made him strong, what turned him into the monster he now was. Akkuma was a harsh Master and Jiro bore the scars, both mental and physical, of what the kitsune was capable of when he wanted to make one of his experiments succeed. Nine years of being broken, olded into what the other wanted him to be. He had once escaped, but the other's hold on him did not let go and the blonde seemed to find his way back to him.

The Chigokai should have just bit his tongue and let the younger male walk away, but he was not known for being intelligent. He was smarter than most people gave him credit for, but he had never learned to keep his mouth shut. Not even when...

No...don't go there... Just the thought of his keeper's punishments were enough to send a shiver of fear through his body. He fought it back in that moment however. And he told the boy to fuck off. He knew it would only get him in even deeper trouble, but there was something itching for a fight. It had been so long since he had a truly hard fight, something that was not easy like these civilians who could not do a jutsu to save their lives. Maybe he wanted this fight as a way to challenge himself.

At his comment, Jiro only spat out "why aren't you leaving? This doesn't concern you." It seemed the kid was ready to fight now and that made the blonde smirk. He stopped the woman's bleeding and took a step towards the other man. He bounced slightly, rocking back and forth. He pulled out his kunai, cutting his own hand open. The blood formed to create his signature tiger claws. He looked at them then at the sword the other seemed to manifest. Sword versus tiger claws. Well, that was not fair, but he did not have the energy to switch it out now. At least not at that moment. He was stuck with the weapon he had chosen.

When the other let out a feline-esque battle cry and lunged, Jiro rolled out of the way. He raised his tiger claws to block the blade, moving to slash the other with the other set of claws. Another manic laugh left him at the prospect. "Fucking fight me then!" he cackled. Blue eyes flashed, his insanity now in full view for anyone to see.

[MIT]
[WC: 641]

 

[Toraono Michino]

For the first time in Michino’s life he was feeling true battle lust. When he had gone to help the ex-Kazekage beat the living hell out of his father and his army the demon living inside his had at the time had done most of the work. Even when Owari had been forced to retreat inside of the silver blade he still helped focus the powers he was trying to display on his own now.

Powers that were already trying to overwhelm his senses.

The deep pit of anger the Toraono kept locked away from everyone started boiling up hard. All the regrets he had of not being a better shinobi, the relentless truth of his father, even the current failure of leaving the two people on the ground at risk. His breath started to pick up as he swung the blade, the roar echoing off the walls of the burning building that was starting to spread to the surrounding area putting himself and the maniac in a circle of flame.
His battle focus was blurred by tunnel vision as all his body was screaming at him to do was kill. It was the first time the boy had actually tried fighting someone since his mind broke and the overwhelming emotions burning through his soul turned his vision from seeing the giggling psycho cut his hand and create two blood claws.

All Michino saw was Jiro’s neck.

The black blade of fired came crashing down against the blood claw with enough force to rip the arm out of a man’s socket, but as it stuck it instead seemed to phase through the sanguine fluids. It was only after the sword had passed through his opponents weapon did the claws break momentarily from a delayed cut that then seemed to repair itself but left a black mark on the weapons themselves. This was the boy’s ‘pacifistic’ method of fighting. Every time he made a cut against someone’s flesh the wound would appear only for a moment before repairing itself and leaving a black mark that would make the person believe they were bleeding out and contiued to mimic the pain of a actually being cut. The boy’s attacks were far more cruel than he thought. Its effect on Jiro’s weapons was not of the warrior’s concern however as his adrenaline drugged brain forced some of sense back enough for him to realize that he had missed his target and the deadly blade was on the path of destruction towards the two hostages.
With every last bit of his willpower the demonkin screamed and forced his muscles to draw back and tighten until he could stop the blade just short of the old man’s face. The risk he took in slowing down his attack to keep from killing the very people he was trying to save was a clean hit from the mad man in the alley with him.

Being cut was an horrible pain. Like a bad friend taking a wet ice cube and slicing it across hot flesh. Except the icy burn of the ice never goes away and to even think of moving the muscles surrounding the wound brings about pain easily on a scale of six to ten depending on how deep the injury. Then there is also the fact that the very red water that keeps the human body going is suddenly leaking out of the body causing the brain to experience, in some cases, a dizzying feeling or even straight blacking out from the sudden drop of blood pressure. These were things anyone who wasn’t used to being cut open at any given moment could expect to experience.

The claws tore into the teenager’s side and tore out a large chunk of flesh as they raked away. Blood and viscera splashed out of the attack across the ground behind him and some to sizzle against the encroaching fire. The teenager’s heart felt like it stopped, frozen in fear.

The pain instantly broke him out of his battle trance before it had truly began. The corners of his eyes that had been darkened with rage shot out suddenly clear now as the fog lifted completely from his mind. The icy burn and traumatizing pain in his new wound throbbed unmercifully and he pushed himself towards it. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to sit the fuck down and curl up but his mind was finally clear. In that short nine to ten seconds of battle exchange the boy learned an important lesson about taking on someone who can and would kill him, and now had the wound to prove it.
All he had to do now was survive.
Michino let the pain wash over his every sense as he turned into the wound and brought down his right fist to swing in a backhand motion hoping to catch his opponent off guard before bringing his black sword back to bear down on his Jiro. Already he knew what he was about to do and felt a shame he fought through. If the crazy guy was paying any attention aside from his opponent’s crimson life force flowing freely from the deep wound in his right side the male would notice that his follow up attack with the blade was a lot softer and not aiming for vitals, yet the look of remorse hung in his eyes.

All the young Toraono would need is a single clean strike to force his chakra into Jiro’s blood and lockdown the villain’s motor functions with a genjutsu.

[MFT|959]

 

[Jiro]

Jiro lived for the battle, or even just bloodlust. It seemed inherited through whatever sordid genes he had gotten from his Chigokai father. Chigokai, the reason the woman who birthed him had sold him. People feared beings like him -- those with the vampiric abilities to manipulate and bend blood to their will. The blonde remembered his lessons, the thought of him being powerful and feared drilled into his head by a harsh and demanding Master.

He bounced slightly on his heels as he looked back up at the feline-esque male, as if seeing him for the first time. He grinned manically, blood smeared on the blonde's face at a quick rub of his hand, uncaring that he had the woman's blood on him. He seemed to almost treat the viscous liquid like it was some type of Holy water -- a sared relic meant to be cherished. But soon, the younger male was ready to fight and his roar echoed around the thin, decrepit alleyway. He looked around, the flames circling them, making him smirk and laugh again. This time, his laugh echoed off the burning walls alongside his rival's roar.

In response to the sword, Jiro slit his hand and formed his blood claws. The next second, however, he realized his mistake. Fuck... It was too late now to switch to another weapon, so all he could do was slash, lash out violently, almost randomly, as if trying to impale the other male with his claws. It was as if some primal force urged the blonde on.

But there seemed to be another more sinister force urging his new rival on. He had never seen anything like it. It was something that spurred him on, even as the blade came down onto hs claws. Instead of clashing like a typical weapon, however, they merely phased through the hardened substance Jiro was using as a weapon. His claws broke then rehealed, making blue eyes widen. Genjutsu?! His eyes narrowed as he remembered his training. He had been taught to hate Genjutsu, a coward's way out, according to the man who he followed so religiously. Each of the man's words were had become scripture to him, a Holy commandment. He hissed as hot pain seared through his body as if he had just been cut. Thankfully, he moved out of the way during the second attack, blindly stabbing through the pain.

Jiro took the distraction of his opponent veering off course in his bloodlust and almost taking out the people he was fighting to protect. When he felt and heard flesh tear and heard blood flowing -- fresh and addictive, he smirked. "Can't even fight me like a man." Jiro launched a more disrespectful assault on the man, spitting at him. "Bitch." The verbal insult was followed by a few more choice words that would have offended even a hardened mercenary.

He watched the blood flowing from the man he had just cut. His bloodlust was renewed with a fervor in that moment. He soon let the claws turn back to blood then flow back to the wound in his hand. Soon after, the wound healed thanks to his healing factor. As the other male was focused on the searing hot pain and trying to realign himself to continue fighting -- dealing softer blows that still stung like a million papercuts doused in salt -- Jiro did a series of hand symbols.

At the hand signals, he felt a stream of liquid coming up from his throat. Transferring the water to blood using an ability that only his bloodline seemed to have mastered, he soon spat out a thin, yet highly concentrated line of the crimson liquid at his new rival. The result may have been slightly alarming, but should it hit, the effects would have been devastating. The sadistic Chigokai could only hope that the other was still too shell-shocked to rebound from the clean cut as well as the Impaling Blood Jet that had just erupted from Jiro's mouth.

{MFT]
[WC: 666]

 

[Toraono Michino]

This was probably the main reason why Michino avoided fighting. Without the help of the Inner Spirit that would take control of his body and properly use the powers that laid buried inside under all his self-conscious issues he was actually rather useless in a fight. Each swing of his blade missed completely as his crimson life-force flowed a little bit more slowly from his side onto the ground below. With each swing that flew past Jiro the boy got a kick or another nick returned to him. While the physical blows of the older male did little to his toned and trained body it was the blooded claws that continued to score him here and there, just deep enough to bleed, that was getting to him; that and the insults.

Jiro was hitting buttons unknowingly that was drawing the fighting spirit out of the teenager. He had already had a problem keeping up with his generation as most of the class he had been part of either found meaningful work outside of being a shinobi or were Chunnin rank. Michino was the only one of his class to do nothing with his life except train and build muscle without any goal. He never got faster, stronger, or smarter without devoting one-hundred and twenty percent to whatever he was trying to improve unlike most of the other stundents who progressed in leaps and bounds. Also unlike the rest of his class he struggled to keep up with any of the basic shinobi standards in order to keep receiving military pay. Pretty soon he was going to be of an age to either nut up and get good or become a civilian.
With each new insult topping the last the latter choice was starting to look more and more appealing.

A final dodge and counter kick into his solar plexus sent Michino stumbling back until he fell back on the ground. The black sword shaped fire flickered away as he lost all of his focus upon hitting the concrete. As his eyes opened through the blur of sweat, blood, and the smoke they caught Jiro moving his hands into a set of seals. As fast as he could the feline demonkin tried to dart to the side when his hand behind him brushed against luke-warm flesh. For the second time in this fight against a homicidal maniac the Toraono found himself distracted. He turned his head away from the attack for just a brief moment to see the bodies of the two people he had come to help behind him. The woman’s eyes had gone cold and hazy and the old man had stiffened as rigormortis began to fasten onto his shock stricken corpse. Tears of overwhelming emotion welled up at the corners of his eyes as he realized that, live or die, he had already failed in trying to save the two people who had gone out of the way to call him. Had they called someone else and they probably would have walked away with their lives.
But Michino didn’t know how to save a life. He didn’t know how to fight with the skills he chose to use. He was an absolute failure as a shinobi. As he gazed down at the corpses of the shop owners the sharp stream of blood tore through the back of his thigh and out the side; cementing the fact that he had not been prepared at all to face this adversary or the consequences of failure. Again his own blood poured from his wound but in a strong spray this time as pain roared against his instinct, forcing him to push away from the ground and back up, standing on the one good leg. The wounds marked across his body, including the large one to his side, was already starting to heal from the unnatural power that flowed through his veins but the process was slowing down a lot with the new possible mortal injury. Yet he stood there on a single leg, panting from both the pain, heat, and lack of oxygen not giving anymore ground. He was starting to realized something that night as he came to terms with the fact that this was possibly how he was going to die. Something was changing inside of the boy as he wobbled there on a lone leg trying to stand his ground despite the utter failure surrounding him. A part of him that would have taken many more years and probably a good life partner to slowly drag out.

Today he realized the true nature of the nihilistic universe he was in. Today, Toraono Michino grew up.

His mind flashed back to a scenes of his childhood. The Toraono elders holding the martial art classes, the how and where to attack, the steady and purposeful movements or each strike from the many styles that had been drilled into his body but never used for fear of the pain that came with an actual fight. It was that cowardice that brought the boy towards the need to use Genjutsu as well as the reason he seemed to excel at it. He actually wasn’t, he was just running further and further away from the pain of harsh reality. Today he realized that if he was going to go down fighting then he should at least do his clan proud.

This time, as he slowly lifted his head back up, he made sure Jiro got a good look at those feral blue eyes.

With a pained slowness he balled his hands up into fists, put his weak leg behind him to use for painful balance, and slowly settled his body into the Tora no Ken fighting style that his clan had once been famous for, though he was pretty sure Kuro had been the last master of the style. For the first time in his life he was going to actually use the training his family had given him instead of trying to prove his worth, for it was in this near death experience and ultimately failure upon his career as a shinobi that he realized proving one’s worth was pointless in the long run of life.

All that truly mattered was the struggle.

“No more Genjutsu then…come at me.”

[MFT|1061]

 

[Jiro]

The chaos around them had Jiro's heart beating fast. He could hear his new rival's blood pulsing, probably full of fear. He was shocked that the kid did not run screaming in the other direction. Why had he even been called? He was younger than the Chigokai, just a kid really. And there was something that made the blonde assume that the felinesque male did not want to fight. A shinobi who did not fight? Pathetic... He could feel his hatred of this boy flow through his veins. He had never hated anyone so much in his life, he decided.

That hatred was obvious in the way he insulted him. Each insult was worse than the one spat out before it. He glanced around at the carnage again. For a brief moment, panic flashed through him. Blue eyes widened before they narrowed again, not giving his opponent a reason to think he lowered his guard. Although pain erupted through him as he got distracted by how mad Akkuma would be once he realized what Jiro had done. Pain flowed through him. He had left himself open and got cut in response. Blood gushed out but he focused, channeling the blood. It did slow him down however. He swore loudly and glared up at the other.

Jiro dodged and kicked his opponent, watching with glee as he stumbled and fell to the ground. That damned Genjutsu sword seemed to vanish as it hit the ground, making Jiro laugh, the manical sound echoing through what was left of the Bazaar. He took his chance in that moment, as the kid's guard was down. The Bloodbender did a rapid succession of hand seals. He watched his opponent move off the ground, try to flit to the side, awaay from whatever attack was about to be unleashed onto him.

Jiro's mouth filled up with water as he watched the other look at the bodies behind them. He scoffed as the water turned to blood, the metallic taste stirring something deep inside of him. His aunt and uncle were now dead. That was not what he had wanted. He would have been able to heal them and find out where that bitch who birthed him was, but the kid in front of him had ruined that. He ruined everything! Why had he not just gone away?! But it was too late now as he released the stream of blood from his mouth.

His jutsu was right on target. He watched as the wounds started to heal and he smirked. His own wounds that had been inflicted in the heated battle were beginning to heal as well. "Now I'll never find out where she is!" he yelled at his rival, as he realized both his aunt and uncle were dead. "If you would've just walked the fuck away they would still be alive!" There was a panic in his voice, but something else as well. What was left of his sanity had cracked, crumbled.

All he had wanted to do was find his mother -- the woman who had sold him to Akkuma. He wanted to kill her. It was simple, really. She was the reason he had become the monster he was. But now, he had to deal with this obnoxious dick of a wannabe shinobi. A pathetic excuse for one, really. He had not done any Jutsu yet, only played with the Chigokai's mind with a Genjutsu sword. But now, well, things seemed to be changing. Jiro could not place it, but he noticed it. The change started in the other's eyes and then the stance he was in. His blood was still pulsing quickly, but he seemed more fuelled by anger than fear now.

Jiro bounced slightly in anticipation once more. It seemed to be his standard waiting position. Blue eyes flickered from the other's eyes to the hands balling into fists. He watched him put the hurt leg behind him, balancing himself. With another demonic cackle, the Chigokai stood his ground, moving closer to the other Sunan.

"No Genjutsu," he repeated. "Only Ninjutsu and Taijutsu."

[MFT]
[WC: 782]

 

[Toraono Michino]

The ashes flying through the air swirled around the combatants while some settled onto Michino’s tongue. His eyes narrowed slowly to focus on the mad man in front of him. It had settled slowly on his mind that this might be the end of his life. Everything he had tried to achieve all thrown out the window by a simple phone call. Yet for some reason the blood pumping through his body told him that this was what he had been seeking the entire time. Someone else to actually push him. To challenge him.

To prove how weak he was.

The Toraono spit the black ash out to hiss into the fire causing the buildings to start crumbling around them. As a user of the illusionary arts he was well aware of the look in someone’s eye when their mind had been broken in some form or another. It would also be just that, Jiro’s eyes, that the teenager would take away from this fight. When he saw the man’s iris shake and expand he knew all too well that, even with his supernatural ability to heal, he was not going to make it through this battle. The a crash and screams beyond their ring of fire started to lift into the smoggy air as Michino and Jiro burned out the most openly worst part of Suna by sheer happen stance. Perhaps it was that thought alone that was pulling the boy’s mind into a state of serene calm. The idea that, yes, he was about to die, but in his death he would avenge the shop owners and burn out a part of the evil hampering his village.
Michino disregarded the small acknowledgement his opponent gave him when he accepted to fight without the use of Genjutsu, but something small inside of him lit up in excitement. His hands clenched tighter for a second as he let the fighting spirit his clan was famous for harboring burn up and through his body,
“Nin and Tai,” he agreed.

His breath eased out and his balled fists slowly uncurled into the proper hand positioning. His good foot dug into the ground.

For the blonde psychopath the fight would suddenly shift against his favor. The Toraono, on the verge of dying with nothing to loose, let go of everything in his body to push towards the goal of a single line he repeated over and over in his head like a mantra - land one blow. He didn’t know why or how but something told him that all he needed to do was connect. If he could hit the man in front of him he would win and could die a respectable death.
He started with a body blow that would tap three pressure points in rapid succession. He lacked the ability to actually stop the blood flow or reverse the movement of chakra like a master of the Tora no Ken was capable of, but, he made up for it with the strength to make any of those blows to land hurt. The three attacks were made with his right arm on the ‘strong side’ which was ironic considering he was generally a left handed person. Following that he would try to counter the next physical attack thrown at him by blocking it with the right and swinging his injured leg in a roundhouse kick. The idea was to sling the blood from his wound into his opponent’s eyes in a bid to distract him long enough to get a full blow to at least three to six more pressure points - depending on how many of his first attacks landed. Of course he had a back up plan to any failure of these attacks as he felt the oxygen rapidly fading form the area and his lungs. It would be a real dick move but it would guarantee his win; his opponent did say Ninjutsu too.

[MFT|674]

 

[Rakujo Yumeko]

As Naikishin scoured the village to find his most cherished weapon. To him it wasn't just a weapon and some other people knew that to be true for some. He, however, had lost his weapon some point after he had lost consciousness during that fight however long ago. He still had no clue how much time had passed. All he knew was that he was missing an eye, one of his arms was broken and the same with one of his legs. His clothes were bloody but he seemed to have fresh wounds on his body. Pretty minor ones but that was aside the point at this moment.

His walking didn't seem to be impaired even with his broken leg as he made his way throughout most of the general area within a couple days by himself with double checking everywhere he could even get to. Though it took him a moment to start to notice the smell of burning garbage. Attempting to follow the smell, it would take him a couple minutes to actually find it as it wasn't something he really wanted to go to really check out but hell, the might have some information on the whereabouts of where his cherished weapon was.

As the source of the odor came into view, it was indeed burning garbage but what was happening nearby was something he wasn't expecting. There was apparently a fight going on and it seemed as if two guys were having a pretty serious fight. "Having a party over here...?" He'd say before trailing off after noticing exactly how badly wounded one of the two was.

Moving fast would be an understatement. Even with his broken leg his physical ability wasn't impaired when he needed to do something. He'd move between the two that his movement wasn't easily seen by most people and even most shinobi, A dust cloud would soon float towards them from where he stood a moment after he stopped. "As you seem to use some sort of weapon, I'll be asking you once. Have you seen a weapon like one you haven't seen before?" He'd ask, a shadow being cast over his lost eye and a dim point of light seemed to appear matching his eye, being that of crimson red. His white hair swayed slightly in the breeze as he stood in the middle of the fight only a couple of inches away from the blonde man. This was something he needed to know, any sort of information towards where his weapon was would be fabulous. Knowing that the spirit inside his weapon was also still there would be a great bonus but only he would be really able to tell about the weapon spirit though. It was kind of sad in his circumstance that he cared more about his weapon and some spirit that inhabited it from his years of using it more than most actual humans that he'd ever meet. With some exceptions though.

 

[Toraono Michino]

Before Michino could answer, before Jiro could react, before anything else could happen a cold wave ran over the area. Moisture rose up in the air and the flames surrounding everyone began to slowly lower down before a torrent of water dropped out of the sky to wash away the fire, trash, and shinobi who weren’t prepared for it - so basically the injured teenager.

ANBU started to fly in left and right through the Underground as fires were being put out with high-level water jutsu. The cooling current surrounding the boy lifted him off into unconsciousness as the water was especially fixed to do to keep him from struggling. The boy would never know what happened to Jiro or the other shinobi who seemed keen on interrupting what would have been a fight to the death. The ANBU took his body to the local jail where he would be arrested for the fire and wait for trial.

[Topic Ended and Left]
[Hated to do this but Jiro left and her character was a major part of me continuing the thread.]