Chapter nine : Pressure
The birds had been her first clue.
Sitting on the bench calmly, her strength slowly returning to her weakened self, Chihiko had found amusement in the antics of a few robins. The person who had occupied the bench before her had scattered small handfuls of crumbs along the ground and in a rabid dash of hunger the small birds scrambled to eat as much as their little bellies could hold. Food was becoming scarcer as the days grew colder and no living creature passed up the opportunity for a free meal. They squabbled with each other like old women fighting over a bargain item at some store, playfully pecking at each other with their diminutive beaks, never trying to hurt, but simply to scare the other bird away from some delicious piece of bread crust.
When only a few of the morsels were left, two of the birds flitted away, hoping to find more plentiful amounts of food elsewhere. But the smallest of the birds, who had been overpowered by its companions, stood its ground, picking up what its friends had left behind. It was pulling and tugging at a particularly large crumb that had become lodged in a small crack in the sidewalk. Chihiko, noticing the robin's plight, plucked the crumb free and broke it into several smaller pieces. Spreading them thin across her open palm, she invited the robin towards her, hoping that it would hop into her hand. She had done this before, when she was younger, and Chihiko wondered with a spirited and uncharacteristic curiosity if she still had the knack.
The bird skittered across the ground, both of its scaled feet moving together, hoping to and fro, its small feathered head moving a fraction sideways, wary of its surroundings. As it came closer, Chihiko widened her fingers, making her hand seem as big and safe as possible. If she clenched her hands but a little, it would look like a cage and that would frighten the little bird away.
The bird kicked off of the ground and onto the fleshy underside of Chihiko's hand, tiny claws scratching the exposed supple skin. It was only mildly discomforting; Chihiko was simply too pleased to pay the annoyance any mind. Quickly, the little robin began to collect the crumbs, moving about Chihiko's hand like a little robot.
And then, quite suddenly, it flew away, leaving half of the crumbs behind.
Chihiko frowned, trying to discern what she had done wrong.
"Well, see you later, little one," she whispered to herself, casting her eyes off into the sky that the bird had retreated into.
No longer focused on the birds, she dumped the crumbs back onto the ground, staring at them lazily as she wiped her hands together. There was so much left that a small section of the pavement darkened, little shadows cast of the multitudes of crumbs collecting together to form a larger one.
The shadows increased.
Chihiko suddenly realized, almost too late, that crumbs that small could never cast a shadow, no matter how many there were, and she leapt off the bench and onto the ground just in time to see the entire fixture cave in from an overhead impact. It jolted the entire ground, spider-veins sprawling through the dirt and pavement and grass. Panic severed the mid-morning crowd, several cries ringing out, drowning out any other noise. Bodies from every direction scattered into each other as the dust began to settle, Chihiko still recovering from the shock of the sneak-attack. All around her, people were screaming and running and pushing, causing a massive cloud of confusion to be kicked up. Soon the entire area was empty save the ruins of the bench and Chihiko. Nothing stirred except for the air, which was saturated with dust and anticipation, both as prominent as the other.
Looking at the broken pieces of the bench, Chihiko knew she had been immensely lucky to have seen the shadow of her attacker before he had crushed her sitting spot. Normally in the case of a surprise assault, she was able to sense the motives of those around her, the collective consciousness' speaking to her, giving her the upper hand. This time, she had sensed nothing, not even a trickle of danger.
Gazing at the splintered wood and bent metal, Chihiko looked for her opponent, but he had disappeared. But where? There was hardly anything left of the bench, no place for him to hide in. Looking above her, she found the skies empty as well. This enemy obviously was skilled at shrouding his presence.
"You're fast, I'll give you that," a deep voice rose from the haze and debris of the crushed bench. It was full of malice and bitingly cold, the voice of a killer. He was using a sort of Genjutsu to hide himself, and although it was impressively effective, Chihiko wasn't frightened, not even by a little. She was still alive, her foe had not been successful, and that meant that she could win.
"But speed won't save you, nor will dumb luck."
An indiscernible shape emerged from the rubble, blindingly fast, and as the assailant moved, his Genjutsu faded like a veil being tossed aside. Chihiko quickly fell into her defensive stance, feet apart, hands slightly raised as she waited for the fighter to move into her proximity.
She had him.
As the fighter lunged forward, now completely unveiled to be a fighter wearing a cloak, Chihiko remained still; the only moving thing on her body was the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the subtle shifting of her hair as the wind rustled through it. As long as she remembered that her enemy was human, that blood coursed through his body, there was nothing he could do that she couldn't defend against. By initiating the attack, the man was acting on a lower level.
Racing towards her, now so close that she could see the mask that the man wore, the man brought his fist forwards, preparing to deliver a circular blow to her face. She braced herself quietly, counting the seconds that it would take the man to reach her.
His illusion was impressive indeed.
The man approaching her stalled for the smallest of moments, an almost undetectable flaw in his movements, but Chihiko caught it nonetheless. Her eyes scrutinized the cloaked figure's ruse just as she felt a tugging sensation at her neck, the crook of his right elbow attempting to choke her while a gloved hand fiercely grabbed her left wrist.
The real attacker was behind her, the one before her was merely a clone. Before the man could strengthen the hold around her neck, Chihiko quickly dropped her chin towards her chest, protecting herself from further strangulation. From here, it was only a matter of deciding if she wanted to neutralize the arm trying to throttle her or the hand holding her wrist.
Instinct kicking in, her years of grueling training commanding her every movement, every muscle, Chihiko extended her left arm, pulling the man's arm as well, distracting the masked assassin as she clasped the arm choking her with her right hand. Her movements fluid like the purest of rivers, Chihiko stepped laterally to her right foot, her left foot planting behind her so that she could slip underneath his right arm safely, his left hand finally releasing her wrist. Gripping the man's right hand with both of her own, Chihiko twisted it painfully inwards towards his body.
Chihiko heard a rasping gasp of shock from beneath the menacing mask of her attacker, just before she spun him clockwise around herself, sending him onto the ground, mask hitting onto the pavement with a sickening crack. And yet, Chihiko knew she had only caused minimal damage, just enough to redirect his attack and counterbalance his actions.
The second attack launched just as Chihiko's incapacitated enemy disappeared into a vaporous cloud of mist, a log appearing within in it.
"Kawamiri no jutsu!?" Chihiko exclaimed as a katana slashed through the haze of the replacement technique, sharp edge glinting, eager to carve itself into the exposed flesh of her collar bone.
Face composed, not even the slightest bit of sweat erupting from the pores in her skin, Chihiko allowed the second fighter, clothed in same gear as the first, to thrust forward, blade first. Just as the sword was about to pierce her, Chihiko nimbly pivoted on her left foot in a clockwise direction, bringing her right foot behind her so that she twisted out of the blade's path completely. Catching the attacker off-guard, the white-haired kunoichi clutched the weapon's hilt in her left hand as it passed by her side. Now in control of both attacker and his blade, Chihiko lifted the handle upwards forcefully and over her own head, the owner of the sword close behind it. Immediately afterwards she pulled downwards as she stepped forwards. Both man and blade were pulled forward, and the intensity of the tug caused the shinobi to loosen his grip. His fingers, now sweaty, slipped free, and without a guard to stop his hands from being cut upon his own blade, the shinobi had no other choice but to completely release the handle, causing him tumble up and over Chihiko's head.
As the enigmatic enemy was sent sprawling onto the ground, his blade still with Chihiko, he too exploded into an obscure cloud, leaving behind another dormant log. Now, there were two fighters hidden somewhere close by.
Looking at the weapon in her hands, Chihiko thought about the disgusting, violent intentions of the fighter who had wielded it, how he functioned off of fate and cruelty. She tossed it aside into a bush so that it would be well hidden.
There was no doubt that the enemy was capable and trained to kill; their attacks would have fallen a lesser warrior. It was obvious that half of her victory was due to their disbelief and shock; they hadn't expected Chihiko to be as resourceful or quick on her feet. She smirked a little; even the tiniest mouse can chew the fingers off of a much larger cat if its strength is underestimated.
Chihiko readied herself for the next intense volley. It was going to be tougher this time around, she was sure of that; they wouldn't be as foolish.
Immense puffs of fog burst all around her as the enemy began to hurl harmless smoke grenades at Chihiko's feet. The vapors rose into her face, blinding her momentarily, and she knew the enemy was waiting for her rub her eyes in confusion or try to bat away at the mist, for that would be their ideal moment to strike. They were still using basic attack patterns against her, techniques that just wouldn't suffice. Perhaps they were simply toying with her, trying to wear her down little by little, like a piece of wood slowly being chipped at. Chihiko had lasted through a five hour battle before, and won; the enemy would have to strike soon if they wanted to end this quickly.
Eyes keen and alert, Chihiko's limbs and back remained relaxed at ease. She needed to be as flexible as possible if she was going to have to battle in this annoying miasma. Chihiko waited, the mist swirling around her, reacting to the vibrations of the brewing battle.
"Katon: Karyuu Endan (Dragon's Flame)!"
An abrasive cry filled the air as a red and orange glow began to disperse the smoke. Chihiko's heart suddenly filled with fear, one she was not accustomed to, knees buckling slightly. Her cool exterior began to fade as the scarlet glow began to manifest itself into a gigantic wall of fire. With lightning fast ferocity it screamed towards the horror-stricken girl, the intense heat blazing and irate, the tongues of fire licking dangerously close, insufferably scorching and terrible and vile.
Her mind shut down, utterly consumed with the thickening terror that the fire-type attack wrought. A billion thoughts seemed to clutter her brain, none of them useful, all of them frivolous, preventing her from retaliating or at least dodging the blast. Chihiko's closed her eyes, unable to move, unable to act, mired by this intangible fear. It was as if her will to fight had completely vanished.
The barrage of flames was about to collide with Chihiko, engulf her in its terrible wrath, when suddenly it was muffled, smote out like the whispers of a dying man. The sensation of heat slowly weakened until only a slight warmth could be felt in front of Chihiko's tense, scrunched face.
She parted her eyelids cautiously, mind still reeling, wondering if perhaps the torrid flames had already consumed her, and that she was now in the afterlife.
A moment passed, and then another, and yet Chihiko still felt air flowing into her lungs.
The world burst into view again, the waking world, not the land of the dead. She was still alive. But how? How had she survived?
All around her lay the answer. Thick, writhing, green tendrils, each of them taller then Chihiko herself, had burst from the ground below Chihiko, creating a sort of natural barrier against the blaze, absorbing the flames. Their outer surfaces were charred and severely damaged, fleshy skins burned away to reveal their inner pulp, but they continued to move like fat and thorny snakes, angrily writhing about, propelled by some unknown and unseen force. After a few moments, when the air was still once more, the roots seeped back into the ground, slithering away. When the tip of the last root had sunk into the burnt earth, Chihiko finally let the breath of air that she had been holding in her lungs out.
How? I didn't even summon that… puzzled, curious and more then a little winded, Chihiko panted, eying the surrounding area suspiciously.
Holes nearly a foot in diameter lay around her in a near perfect circle. Chihiko peered down one of the fissures, but there was nothing to see; the plants that had saved her life were gone.
ZIP!
Chihiko ducked in the nick of time as a kunai whizzed over her head, slicing off a few silver hairs from the top of her scalp, a nasty reminder that a fight was still underway. There was no time to deliberate over just how a sentient plant had erupted from the ground to protect her.
On all fours, Chihiko felt the dirt in between her fingers, regaining her sense of composure. It was obvious these people wanted her dead, and supernatural plants weren't going to stop them. They obviously thought Chihiko herself had summoned them herself.
Can't rely on that now…have to keep going, clenching her teeth together, Chihiko forgot about her unexplainable rescue, tucking it deep within her mind for later consideration. With the mist now completely dissolved, the playing field was level once more.
A patch of air in front of Chihiko quivered; she knew that it was from that trembling piece of nothing that the kunai had been flung. Somewhere, hidden once again by invisibility Genjutsu were at least two shinobi. Chihiko could feel their eyes boring into her from behind those elusive, clandestine masks.
A flurry of daggers, twenty strong, suddenly materialized, visible only when they were within feet of Chihiko's face, whistling in the air like a thousand diving eagles. Chihiko's hands worked quickly to form a rapid succession of symbols, her fingers a blur of flesh and bandages.
"Doton: Doroku Gaeshi (Mud Wall)!" voice barely audible underneath the torrent of kunai, Chihiko grabbed the dirt below her. She laced her chakra into the molecules of soil and rock, using it to hold together the earth, make it compact and firm. Lifting her "shield" into the air, the kunai were soon deflected off of the barrier with tiny clinking noises, falling helplessly to the ground like small gnats being swatted away.
However, her defense had not been absolute; a small trickle of blood began to dribble down the side of her face, the cut just large enough to open the skin.
The block of earth crumbled soon after, weakened by the onslaught. It was costing her too much chakra to hold the safeguard together anyway. As it fell apart, the chunks of earth falling towards the ground in progressively larger pieces, Chihiko noticed in disdain that the enemy had used this opportunity to plant themselves around her, like wolves surrounding a weak and helpless deer. The shower of kunai had been a diversion.
There were four total, all spaced evenly before her, and she instantly recognized the two from before, for their clothes were ragged and dust-covered. Of the remaining two fighters, one branded a tanto, a short sword resembling a dagger. The rest were unarmed.
All of them had removed their white-colored cloaks for ease of movements. Underneath, they wore sleeveless body suits of black, stretchy material that was tight on their upper bodies and looser on their legs. Over that was a white vest, probably packed with protective material to stop a kunai blade or sword from piercing through. And of course, enshrouding their faces were those daunting masks, each carved with the features of some seemingly random animal.
Her barrier totally dissolved, Chihiko finally picked herself off the ground, careful not to cut her fingers on one of the many kunai scattered across the ground. She gazed into those masks, searching for any signs of humanity, a flicker of empathy, but found none. They were emotionless tools, just like her, following some order to completion. They would not stop fighting until either they had completed their objection or they lay dead on the street.
She looked at them, and they stared right back.
They moved at once, although the fighter farthest on her left was the first to attack, fist raced for a right hook. Although the punch of blisteringly fast, a mere flicker in the air, Chihiko dropped to a single knee, the balled hand whisking over her. Instantly she grabbed the shinobi's wrist guard and redirecting his momentum, she hurled the enemy over her head, right into two of her other opponents. As they tumbled to the ground in a massive heap of arms and legs, another shinobi attempted to grab her from behind while she was just getting back up on both legs. He grabbed both of her shoulders, readying to pull her onto the ground, but Chihiko retaliated instantaneously without hesitation.
In one effortless, fluid motion, Chihiko extended both of her arms forward in the same direction as her opponent's hold, turning her body sharply to his left side with a smooth circular step. Pivoting on her left foot, planting her right deeply behind the masked fighter, Chihiko suddenly ducked underneath the man's grappling hands, her zig-zagging movements offsetting his balance. His arms free from her shoulders, Chihiko swept her hands beneath the crooks of the man's knees, sweeping him away in a whirl up and over her right hip.
By this time, the three shinobi who had toppled to the ground had recovered themselves, and all of them were aimed to strike simultaneously. Two of the fighters grabbed her hands, yanking her forwards, strong hands crushing the small bones of her wrists. Chihiko cried out spasmodically as they suddenly pulled from opposite ends, ruthlessly tugging and wrenching her arms, attempting to pull them out of their joints. Gnashing her teeth, the girl summoned a strength belying her frail appearance, jerking one of the fighters towards herself while pulling the hands of the other over her head. With the two combatants racing headlong for each other, Chihiko moved to one side quickly. With no interruption in the flow of energy, she gracefully lead the arms of one of the shinobi against those of the other, unbalancing them both expertly. With a simple downward swing, Chihiko pushed them both onto the ground, faces snapping against one another.
With a scowl of indifference, Chihiko noticed that fresh blood had sprung form the mouth-hole of one of the shinobi's masks.
"Stop this useless fighting! I don't want to hurt you!" eyes shimmering with frustration, Chihiko pleaded to the fighters, hoping that they would halt, cease their pitiless assault.
The shinobi remained soundless as they lifted themselves off of the now blood-spattered and broken earth, small craters and punctures spaced erratically about the battleground. They seemed haggard, breathing deeply and rapidly; the facial wound of Chihiko's one opponent was still bleeding, even heavier now.
All her life Chihiko had been trained for situations like these, where she was outnumbered and alone, faced with armed enemies who had no other motive but to capture or kill. She knew the harsh realities of life, she was very well aware of man's darker side.
And yet she wondered why they wouldn't succumb, wouldn't step aside and let civility take affect. She knew that as the individual being attacked, she had the right to defend herself, but just when would defense turn into offense? She couldn't keep counteracting with simple turnarounds and otherwise "ethical" forms of defense, not if she ever wanted this fighting to reach any sort of conclusion.
Just as she was about to call out again, beseech the shinobi to lay down their weapons and speak in peace, the one brandishing the tanto pounced, blade facing down, a killing stroke.
Mouth tight, her lips pursed with disappointment, Chihiko easily deflected the attack with her left forearm as she snatched his wrist with her right hand. Pulling his weapon-holding hand towards his head, Chihiko forced his elbow towards the air, his upper body slouching in discomfort. Anger and pity and exasperation all taking hold of her mind, Chihiko pushed harder yet, forcing the attacker onto one knee.
"Please! Stop!" she asked again, cheeks reddening, hating the sight of another person being put into pain, especially at her own hands. When the man still refused to yield, she twisted his body forward and kicked his feet out from underneath him. Shoulder twisting in a direction that had to be agonizing, he fell to the ground face first, knife becoming dislodged from his hand, falling only a couple feet away.
Chihiko had seen enough. There was no negotiating with the four masked shinobi, she couldn't ignore that now. The faint embers of conflict had been fanned into a massive inferno of destructive forces; there was to be no peaceful way out of the battle. But Chihiko couldn't be defeated, whether by capture or worse, not when her mission hung in the balance. If she succumbed now, let herself be taken, she would never find Zaku's killer, learn the answers behind his mysterious fate.
She had to be the one left standing.
The fighters gathered themselves once more just as Chihiko knelt down to pick up the abandoned tanto blade, hating how it felt within her hands. She wasn't formally trained in armed combat; the weapon in her hand felt heavy and cold and malevolent.
Her hands held the kunai tightly. Her eyes sealed, preparing for the inevitable pain.
Chihiko's lips were sealed as the blade cut into the flesh of her right hand, slitting open her palm. Not a trickle of pain showed itself on her tranquil and poised face as crimson rivulets pulsed forth from the throbbing wound. It's purpose now complete, the young kunoichi discarded knife, its steel edges washed with her own blood. As she started to form a methodical string of hand signals, the four shinobi raced forward, fully aware of what she was planning to do.
"Kuchiyose no Jutsu: Jyukai Koudan (Deep Forest Emergence)!" slamming her wounded hand onto the wrecked and trampled street, Chihiko poured an immense amount of chakra into the ground, sending it deep into the soil, her blood commingling with her own spiritual energies. An ancient force churned beneath the earth's surface, the buildings quaking as a cryptic pattern spewed forth from Chihiko's bloodied palm, spiraling around her like a cyclone of words and letters.
Feet staggering, the very dirt and road betraying them as they struggled to remain standing, the masked shinobi could do little as a colossal oak tree, its trunk as wide as five elephants, suddenly ripped up from the planet's core. Its limbs were looming, monstrous arms made out of heavy bark that swooped and lashed about menacingly. Several nearby buildings were instantly destroyed by the force of the tree's eruption, its foundation rocked by the surging roots.
Leaping up into the middle branches of her summoned ally, Chihiko looked down at the fighters as they began to travel up the tree's massive canopy, trying to reach her, there ascension hindered by the swarming thicket. But the plant had a mind of its own, and it was a strikingly intelligent one at that. With an agility that contradicted its massive structure, the tree unfurled and twisted its limbs, swiping at the shinobi as they scattered and divided themselves amongst the many branches. The entire tree was alive and animated, thrashing, flogging and beating at the shinobi with all of its power, its skin of bark groaning as the trunk rotated and turned. Every gnarled bough on the tree stretched itself to its maximum length, pummeling anything it could reach, protecting Chihiko, who was safe within the deep confines of the cognizant plant.
"I thought only the first Hokage could summon this tree!?" one of the fighters exclaimed, just before a pounding branch crushed into his abdomen, knocking him out of the maze of wood and leaves. His body crash through branches, smacking against the trunk of the tree several times before he finally reached the ground once more. He did not get back up.
Chihiko gazed down at the man with pity, wishing that it would not have come to this.
As the other three members of the small squad raced down to check the condition of their fallen comrade, the tree lurched once more, reacting to their quick escape. With knuckle-like twigs, its branches thick as engorged pythons, the tree dealt staggering blows and uppercuts, just as a living man would, except with the added toughness its woody exterior provided. Desperation sinking in like a foul virus, the trio of fighters attempted to retaliate, but their knives barely scratched the resilient and their punches left their fists numb and bruised. It was useless to go into fisticuffs with the unyielding tree. Soon the tree's branches ensnared the masked men, pulling them deeper and deeper into its immense canopy.
"Retreat!" the squad's leader finally gasped out, the life being squeezed out of him slowly, the constricting boughs wrapping around his body like a death vice. His pupils dilated, he and his other shinobi were barely able to maneuver their hands. With a last burst of strength, they simultaneously executed Kawamiri no Jutsu one last time, replacing their bodies with some of the strewn objects on the ground below.
At first the tree almost appeared to be confused, twitching its twigs and branches, foraging through its entangled copse for the three shinobi. It doubled over itself, searching the area near its massive, bulky roots for the fourth fighter, and found that he too had vanished. Stroking the side of its trunk, Chihiko silently consoled the overgrown tree, whispering words of peace to it, telling it that there was no more need for anger or ire. Slowly, the tree came to rest, its branches moving more naturally, swaying in the breeze. Thankfully, since it had been under Chihiko's control, none of the fighters would sustain permanent or long-lasting injury. She had taken great care to instruct the tree to merely put them out of action, frighten them away long enough for her to rebuild another alibi.
Things had taken a drastic turn, and the scope of her mission had bitterly changed. Every shinobi of any rank would be looking for a white-haired girl dressed in yellow, and she soon realized that word of her battle would eventually reach the ears of the Waterfall village.
Thankfully, only the owner of the inn, Ishiraku, would recall her face. With a simple casting of Henge no Jutsu, she could change her appearance, make herself into another nobody in this crowded town. She prayed that no one would need to see a passport, for there was no way to change the face on that.
"You have done well, my friend," she spoke softly, like a mother cooing a cheery infant, to the monstrous tree, now completely pacified. To Chihiko, the mammoth oak was more then just a summoned creature, it was a reliable friend, an ally. And then, in an oddly-placed moment of clarity, she began to grasp that they were very much alike, both tools, both being used for protection. She had commanded it, and it had obeyed her every whim. It was an extension of her being, just as she was an extension of the Waterfall Village.
A shudder shook the entire body of the tree. Every branch sprang back to life, thrashing about in search for the source of the sudden commotion. Chihiko was jolted amongst the moving boughs, caught by surprise as well; she had to grab a support with her hands to keep herself from falling.
With another loud bashing noise, the tree recoiled again, obviously in pain. But what could harm an eighty foot tree? The four highly trained assassins had scarcely put a dent in it. Had they called for reinforcements? Chihiko needed to act fast. An inharmonic discord moaned forth from the tree's bark as it tilted and heaved; a third shock wave had been shot into its wooden body. Gasping as if the tree's agony were her own, Chihiko leaned out from the tree, holding onto a thick branch to steady herself.
Gazing down the winding length of the oak, Chihiko, expecting to find a platoon of heavily armed shinobi, was astonished to see a single man, dressed in green. He was brutalizing the base of the tree with powerful kicks the likes she had never witnessed. With tremendous speed and power, the solitary fighter began to whittle away at the once undefeatable tree, large portions of its mass being chewed away by the sheer ferocity of his attacks. As each piece fell away from the bulk of the tree, Chihiko could hear the cries of her ally piercing into her ears, its rumbling bellow tunneling deep into both the earth and her heart. Half of its trunk was now minced to pieces. If any more of it was destroyed, the entire structure would collapse like a wilting wildflower.
Not able to stand any further torture of the great oak that had protected her so faithfully, Chihiko ran full tilt down the side of the tree. The soles of her boots infused with chakra, the kunoichi sped downwards, arms trailing behind her, wind whipping by so fast she thought it might cut her cheeks. When she could finally see her new opponent clearly, Chihiko pounced off the tree's trunk, flipping in midair with the pliant suppleness of a trapeze artist. Her body twisted elegantly as she seemed to soar through the air without wings, mimicking the cunning moves of a falling cat.
With a final arch of her back, Chihiko connected with the ground once more, causing the man to pull himself from his explosive assault. He turned around quickly, his thick black hair sweeping to one side as equally thick eyebrows furrowed in fury.
Chihiko was struck with bafflement twice as strong now, for the attacking man was not a man at all, but a boy who couldn't be much older then herself. His rounded eyes were alight with a passionate ardor, and it was being focused at her now instead of the tree.
Every molecule in his body seemed to be charged with a sort of battle verge; Chihiko prepared herself for what could very well be the fight of her life.
It was most definitely going to be one for her life.