Kirigakure Mission Station

[Naitome]

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Precious seconds passed. In the heat brume, illuminated and dense with droppings, Naitome could practically feel each expression of warmth go cold. There were dull spots in his 'vision', traveling cool and sharp, perhaps his partners method for buying him time. Once granted however, such time became a calling. A pulling into some other place and bringing out.

It.

Rose.

A skull, a black cloak, a scythe the size of aeons. The shriveled note in Naitome's palm was thrown in a high, lazy arc, reaching the remaining roof near after Jashin's invocation. The being stood like a solemn ghost, drawing his true target's gaze away from the sailing tag. The air vibrates with hiss, with the frail start of oscillating chakra molding pressure into noise. The phantom, the Death that was Naitome's constant aide, it raced forwards, past the falling needle strewn bodies, past their scars and dissipation.

From both ends, violent reckoning radiated, the spirit and it's master releasing waves of sound. Out Jashin's concealed throat a barking emerged, like the dregs of some dead language beat from a corpse, but was thrown to trickle like a whisper out from behind the remaining loyalist. His head turned, a puff of energetic heat, and from Naitome the assaulting waves burst from the contraption at his arm. He'd moved with his racing spirit companion, eliminated all distance, crushed the resistant space separating them from victory.

By the time Jashin's scythe flickered out of existence, the reeling loyalist could only soundlessly scream as the thrown tag exploded, bringing down the remaining section of roof, a final pulverizing applause.

The smoke would clear soon, but not before a final check from the Jounin. Ensuring his partner had been far enough from the techniques to avoid their disastrous outcome, he would kick angrily at the rubble coating their target's lifeless husk, freeing the visceral clumps of him.

He'd find the loyalist's head. Take it for himself with a twitching of snake that became Akuharu and then only slithering soon after. The weakened building suffered. It's supports faltered and cracked at odd angles, disturbed by the upheaval. The entire building would soon sway into ruins.

"Anyone else, thinkerer?"

He called to the Hyuuga.

---

[Yoshi]

♲ is it the pleasure or pain

Th fight was raging on -- there was a point, where Yoshi knew he could win, but couldn't seize the opportunity. It was murder of a citizen he chose to protect. He made that vow to become Mizukage, and to protect everyone in the village. As the old man slashed downwards, his strength was no match, and it was quickly sent backwards flying -- both weapons. A simple thrust of the blade would have it inside of the priests innards.

It was absolutely terrifying to him, as his skills had institutionally took over. " now.. you've even killed me... I will see my family, but all that awaits you is the ground as I float into the sk--- " Jojirou, could barely hang on. " I didn't kill them, and I didn't mean for this to happen! " tears began to fall down, Yoshi's eyes. He was miserable by the events which had just transpired. The priests eyes widened at the revelation. " Yoshi...You are... n-- worthless " The light went out in his eyes. He didn't catch the word before the end. It sounded to him as if he was called worthless. It hurt Yoshi on the inside.

He killed a citizen, and was called worthless, as in his mind he was. He couldn't protect a single smile, no less the smiles of the entire village.

[Haru]

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Smoke tossed itself up as more rolled in waves underneath, moving around the form that escaped from his shadow. The same presence as before; its blood-curdling chakra burned recollections in my mind of the carnage it had incited, the flames that it had rent ascending into the sky like disfigured hands, outstretched and waving goodbye. I felt the chill as before the church, viewing the Stygian figure and its sly commanding. It tore through the cloudy space with an icy abandon, something inexpressible across its mouth. Its vessel was with it, a blur through blurred air, and anticipation filled me as I spectated the hellish duo. If only, if only its prey could see them coming.

Only a single blinking and they were on him. The vicinity became a fireworks display of pure, disorienting force; chakra poured from the corporeal figure in crushing waves; above, an explosion dug its way deep into the fabric of the muffled air, pulling it apart, and then the roof in a violent frenzy and freeing the smoke to the sky. The remnants of a noise that had to have been evoked from another realm filled my ears, echoing an amalgamation of clawing-chalk and screeching, and deeper, more foreboding drones. What was once a fearful, sickly shudder of a form became nothing, below. A heart that had beat ferociously came to a sudden stop; tense muscles relaxed, then opened, covering themselves in warm blood, and focused eyes finally let go, like dead fish floating up. It was done as swift as it happened. The malefic being gave away its form, then, receding into the form that was just as disastrous. Vehement eyes remained still on the dark figure, lucent with a fiery reverence. My stance was beyond the range of everything that had impacted, yet its force continued to rush along my figure, reverberating past me and through me. I shivered involuntarily, reacting to the dizzying cataclysm that one alone had wrought. The flooring tilted beneath me, swaying away, incapable of beholding such miserable beauty. That was what it was. Just that.

I stepped lightly across what remained of the surface, maneuvering toward the culprit himself. The walls creaked, split, and shook. Sections were already beginning to cave in below. It would fold in on itself like a house of cards before long, like cards ripped into a thousand pieces. As quit as the bodies piling its floor; as dead as the head just torn from its place. His voice cut through the wavering smoke as I approached.

“All gone,” I laughed. I was a deathly smile, just visible through the moving grey, as I held out my sleeve. Another.

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[Yoshi]

♲ is it the pleasure or pain

Yoshi was visibly broken on the inside. He had not a single clue what to do next. He was stuck at a crossroads; his good Samaritan status was destroyed. His life now hollow, what he lived for now gone. It was all so very very hollow inside of himself. He rose from the dead body. His mind in tatters, and trying his best to understand what to do next. Where was he to go?

Home? Would he even have a home now as a traitor.