Thunder Dance [open]

[Isao]

Isao woke with a start. The crash of thunder was distinct, reaching into the depths of his subconscious and yanking him out of his slumber. It tugged on the harsh memory of the disaster just a few months before. He sighed as he settled back into the lumpy cot lent to him by the older couple downstairs. The former crew of The Bolt seemed to be stirring as well, as he heard a series of mumbles and grumbles coming from all around the cramped attic. As those around him began to wake, swinging their legs to the side of the cot and rubbing their eyes in resignation, Isao realized what they were about to do and hurriedly asked,

"Are we still going to dance?"

to which one of the more gnarled sailors responded,

"Of course, Boy. We don't stop dancing just because the thunder gods decide to remind us who's in charge every now and again."

Not another word was said as Isao followed the lead set by the ten or fifteen older men. This would likely be a slow dance. It's difficult to dance quickly when one is weighed down with regret. The sound of heavy rain reached the men's ears as the door to the small cottage was opened, giving them a full view of the Kumogakure street. It was bare, as they'd expected. Not many would want to be out in this kind of storm at 10am. It was perfect for the crew's purposes. The men spread out into a circle about fifteen feet wide, two of them crouching down on the side closest to the cottage. With a clasp of their hands, the two men began the dance. To Isao's surprise, the men didn't seem to be hampered at all by the rain, nor the lack of drums. It seemed this would be a fast dance after all. One of the men even began the dance with a no-handed cartwheel, transitioning quickly into a spinning hook kick. The kick was dodged expertly as the other man spun into a low sweep, and the two were off. Isao grinned in excitement as he watched what promised to be one of the best thunder dances he'd seen in his 4 years on The Bolt.

 

[Matsuno Hama]

He was out on business, see.

Ninja business.

Walking through the streets of the village usually carried an ambience of grey, the people only as happy as they could be during struggled. The leadership was in a tiny bit of turmoil, and things were happening quickly. Almost too quickly for those in power to react appropriately, however there were things in motion that weren't blatantly obvious. However, that grey was now literal as well as conceptual, the near-black clouds above pouring an endless flow of rain accompanied by cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning a Santaru would be proud of.

Every once in a while he would glance up at the sky, as if to appreciate the works of electricity in action, the fedora upon his head remaining in place. Funny thing about it though, he didn't show any signs of getting wet. Where usually the hat would be dripping, rim drooping from the weight of the absorbed water. Even the white of his three piece suit and tie should have been blotched with a sort of grey, the sign of water droplets at least contrasting with the parts that are dry.

But they weren't.

If any were close enough, and observant enough, they might see the fact that a good six or so inches out from his body, the rain thinned, and about two inches past that, it simply disappeared, as if the water were evaporating before reaching him. I could describe it here, but I'm not going to, because that would ruin the fun of finding out. What caught his attention however, was the fact that there was a large group of men performing.. well. Something, in the rain. That wasn't often seen in Cloud, though personally I feel it was due to the lack of Native Americans and their potential for rain dancing but I'm just the narrator here. However, Ryuujin's interest was peaked, and he approached the group with just the slightest shift in his direction, standing nearby but not impolitely close, curiosity overriding his natural tendencies to be quite the douche.