-Dustcrush Blues [Closed]

[Not Masakuni]

-A Moment Of Development

Shiro regarded his own hand. It was a simple thing. Unremarkable, really. Made of soft pink flesh, underlaid with muscles and nerves, filled to the brim with blood. It was just like the hand of almost every other human on the planet. It was normal. Weak. He clenched his hand into a fist. He wasn't much for fighting with his limbs, anyway. Normally, his sand took care of that sort of thing. Even so, the strength of his physical body was important. There had to be a way to improve it on it. He was no medic, though if he truly desired, he could change that.

There were more traditional avenues of strength still left to him, however. His control over his sand was weak. He had been blessed with a unique ability by his blood. Through the combination of earth and wind chakras, he could mold his power over sand and dust. It sounded like nothing more than a parlor trick, but the power he could wield with it, with the proper training, was immense. He did a disservice to his genetics if he refused to use the talents they had bestowed upon him.

Might as well.

He sat down, crossing his legs indian-style and slipping his pack off his back. He took in a deep breath, reaching out his hands. He clenched and unclenched his hands, focusing on them. They were to be miniature suns, in his mind, one glowing a deep brown colour, the other a vibrant green. He held the two stars, each glowing with unique power, bringing them closer and closer together. He focused his energies, forcing them to collide. For some, this process was impossible. For him, they intermingled and bonded, a third colour flowing out of the mixture. Tan swirled around him, visible only in the spiritual. He opened his eyes, his ears detecting the faintest of sounds.

Well, that's what I'm here for...

[/blockquote]

[Not Masakuni]

-A Moment Of Cold Blood

Crack.

They were thugs. Shiro could tell by the way the three of them moved, full of ill-earned confidence and an inflated sense of self-importance. Every step was made as though it was some sort of earth-shattering pronouncement of invincibility. He relished the opportunity to deal with such types. He brought his hands together, crafting more chakra from the twin energies lurking inside of him. Soon enough, he felt his system fairly brimming with power. He narrowed his eyes at the fools, who had not yet noticed his presence.

Useless, not strong enough to live.

Two were dragging a young woman between them. She was bound and gagged, her long brown hair hanging in matted strings over her eyes. Dried blood was crusted into her scalp on the left side of her head. It didn't look like the injury had been properly cared for or treated, either. Distasteful. If one was going to take a prisoner, it was in their best interest to keep them healthy and looked after. Whatever your intentions, then, at least, they would be up to the task you had planned for them.

It wasn't hard to imagine their intentions, however. If it wasn't clear simply by their choice in victims, then the leers they were trading one another was proof enough. Shiro frowned at that. He had no problems with vice. In fact, the idea of them forcing themselves on the girl, though distasteful, didn't send his moral compass spinning in outrage. He was far more upset by how very sloppy they were. They had no class about them, no elegance, no forethought. They had no place in Kusa no Kuni...

[/blockquote]

[Not Masakuni]

-A Moment Of Excitation

“Idiots.”

Shiro's hands were forming hand seals, even before he began to speak. He would not tolerate this within his sight. They were impeding his enjoyment of the evening with their uncouthness. His chakra snaked out of his core, rushing out of him and into the source of sand on his back. The top popped out of his gourd as the pressure built up within, sand streaming around restlessly. He smirked. The men turned, slowly, having caught the sound of his voice. It was too late for them, anyway.

That's right, over here.

He made no effort to conceal himself. It was better that they focused their attention on him. In the meantime, his sand was streaking across the ground between the stalks of grass, reaching out with grasping fingers. In moments, it was on them, wrapping around their legs in grasping hands. Two of them let out shouts of fear and surprise, dropping the girl between them. The third one let out a curse and jumped backwards, propelling himself backwards a meter. A shinobi, then. There would be a little bit of excitement, then.

Coming up next...

His continous string of seals came to a conclusion, next. A small amount of his sand formed into a disk of sharpened particles, whirling through the air between him and his foes. It slashed right through the neck of one man, whipping over the girl's head as it cut into the arm of another. Shiro calmly walked towards his fallen opponent. The other man scrambled away, clearly too much of a coward to fight Shiro head on. That kind of behavior was simply too rude. His shuriken of sand bit into the runner's leg, dropping him to the ground. He would bleed out soon enough.

One more...

[/blockquote]

[Not Masakuni]

-A Moment Of Disruption

“Thank you, thank you.”

The girl was sobbing, her clothes torn and her knees scraped. She was dirty and looked weak from travel. She had thrown herself at Shiro's feet, seeking protection in his shadow. He looked down at her, frowning. This kind of display was just way too much. If she had been smart enough to hide, than this wouldn't have happened to her. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as his sand was recalled to him, swirling around his body idly. He wasn't interested in hearing her story, which she looked ready to spill out at any moment.

“Shut up,” He said quietly. He crossed his arms, looking around him. He couldn't locate the other thug, the only one that could access chakra. He hoped the man hadn't run away. The other two had been worthless, not worth the sand he had killed them with. There was no challenge to them. It had been absolutely no fun at all. He wanted a real challenge, someone who had the capacity to do more than roll over and die. “I'm not interested in hearing anything you have to say. Just sit still and let me kill this guy.”

Fwoosh.

Fire surged out of the trees, coming at him in a furious stream. Shiro's hands came together in a single seal. In an instant, his hand swirled around him, forming a curving wall of particulate matter, reminiscent of a broken piece of eggshell. It absorbed the sweep of flames, holding back the flickering torrent. Shiro winced as heat flickered through his shield, hot enough to make him highly uncomfortable. He turned, his eyes full of fierce glee. A valiant effort, of course, but it had revealed his foe's position to him.

Ultimately, foolish.

[/blockquote]

[Not Masakuni]

-A Moment Of Satisfaction

Die!

Shiro brought his hands up, slipping into a flurry of hand seals again. The sand was cast up into the air around them, filling the space between the two of them in little floating clumps. Another quick flurry of deft hand motions assembled some of that sand into a weapon, sending another disc of swirling doom at the foe. His foe ducked to the side, dropping to the ground. The branch where he was standing before was sheared off cleanly. Shiro frowned, his face taking on an ugly expression.

His sand swirled, not giving his opponent a chance to stop. It descended towards him, throwing a flurry of weapon after weapon constructed of sand down at him. His opponent was nimble on his feet, dancing between each projectile as it flicked to the ground. Shiro grit his teeth, forming another string of seals. Hands, made of the sand that had rained down to earth, rose out of the ground, wrapping around the legs of his enemy. There was no escape for him this time. Shiro had him.

Fwip.

He flicked his pouch open, withdrawing a wickedly curved weapon from within. He held up the kama, judging the distance between his foe and himself. He could see the understanding and subsequent fear blossoming in his opponent's eyes. Good. With a powerful hurl, he sent the kama swirling through the distance between them. It made a satisfying sound when it buried itself into his throat. Shiro walked over to the man as he died, his sand swirling back into his gourd. He reached down and ripped his kama out of the man's throat, wiping it off in the grass. After he was satisfied that it was clean, he slipped it back into his pouch.

“Go back to your village, girl. And let them know that the new forces of Kusagakure will tolerate no such disorder.”

-Exit

[/blockquote]

[Messatsu!]

+45

[Apple]

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