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...Go!
Akemi sprung out from her hiding place, knowing exactly where Kaine stood by seeing him through the corner of her eye. Predictability—that was one of his weaknesses, although it was difficult to exploit for anybody who hadn't spent a lot of time fighting at his side. He was already sucking air into his lungs to have something to breathe out, gathering up the power for another bolt of lightning from his mouth. It was scary how much chakra he had at his disposal, Akemi often thought. He was the last man standing on many occasions, including the night before. How he had managed to replenish his stores so completely overnight was a total mystery to his partner. She still hadn't fully recovered, even after her night on the perfect mattress.
Akemi launched herself like a rocket, using an earthen platform as a stepping point to fire toward her destination. It would be close, but she was hopeful that she was going to make it. She felt the buzzing in the air, the follicles on her arms beginning to stand; the bolt would come soon. Akemi gave herself a split second to observe Kaine; he was looking right at her with the same rage as before. He saw only the person who had tried to kill Makoto—he knew not, and cared not, about why or how it had come to be. He only knew that he wanted to punish her, and that she was directly in his path. The crack of lightning echoed through the woods, and the birds who were falling behind on their migration schedule were abruptly scared from their perches. The second bolt was much larger, much stronger than the first—to take a direct hit could likely mean instant death.
Time stopped in Akemi's mind. She allowed her body to fire on autopilot, filling out the details of her sketched plan. She couldn't rely on her thoughts to control her actions—there wasn't enough time for that. Instead, her unrestrained muscles moved near-instantly to grip the hilt of her knife, plucking its bloody blade from the dirt. With the weapon in hand, she twisted at the hip and jutted the shining edge in the direction of the coming bolt. The white flash of energy took a curved path, splintering into a dozen directions with smaller filaments, flooding the forest with light, sound, and heat.
The lightning struck the tip of Akemi's dagger, catching onto it as a focal point. With the first contact made, she turned herself again, using her left hand as leverage to fling herself into a mid-air circle, whipping the precariously flowing bolt around by the tip of her dagger. By the end of her maneuver, the bolt traced a flashing path in a curved half-circle around her lower body. With the weapon still in her grip, she allowed the energy to flow back out, completing its journey, its raw power being sent back toward its origins. Akemi had temporarily completed the circuit, and Kaine's mouth was wide open.
There was no time for him to react, and before the flash of light had even come to an end, he was on the ground with hot steam coming from his throat. His hands were around his own neck, choking on his own power as it channeled down his esophagus. His saliva had evaporated and his tongue was singed, though the muscle wasn't completely destroyed. His legs kicked around for a moment or two, but then he gathered himself, springing up to a standing position and seeming ready for another round despite the powerful aroma of burnt flesh filling his nostrils. His own flesh, as it happened.
Akemi's dagger had been charged with Kaine's chakra while it was being forged. He had given it to her as a way of defending against lightning weapons, and yet it also gave her a distinct advantage in a battle with him—because it was laced with his unique chakra, she could use its blade to siphon his attacks and redirect them. She refused to use such a trick in their combat test, but that was only a test—in a situation of life and death, the rules were gone. Akemi caught herself on her feet, dust still fluttering around her boots by the time her enraged comrade stood back up and caught his breath. She had only bought a few seconds, but she hoped that it was enough.
Makoto was still on the ground from Kaine's initial shove, barely seeming to register the moment. Her body was twitching lightly, trying to move but finding it difficult. She was situated behind Akemi, who was still paying close attention to Kaine; Aki's arms were out and her knife was held firm in both hands, its rubber hilt quite the lifesaver in addition to its lightning infusion. It was the perfect weapon to use against her brother's electrical strikes; her earth nature formed a solid defense against his water, as well.
His only advantage was his mastery of hand to hand techniques, which he seemed intent on using. He rushed forward, and Akemi quickly tucked her knife away to make room for hand signs. She shouted, trying to snap him back to himself: "She was trying to kill me, Hamasaki! Stop!" She wasn't fast enough. Kaine caught her by the wrist, yanking her hand apart from the other and interrupting her concentration. He drew her into a solid punch across the jaw, which sent her face violently sideways, slumping at the end of her spine. Her head started swimming and her thoughts struggled to form. Still reeling, she took another set of hard knuckles straight to her nose. It would've broken a person of lesser resilience, but Akemi concentrated her chakra beneath the skin to soften the blow...though only somewhat. The haphazard cushion of defense spared her from a broken jaw and displaced nose, but taking much more abuse would spell the end of her. Blood was already streaking down the corner of her mouth, plus it was dribbling from one of her nostrils. Her vision was blurred by the impacts, filled with the dark images of a ferocious fist.
He didn't stop. Akemi tried reaching for her knife, trying desperately to kick at Kaine's torso, but his knees were in the way, blocking her efforts reflexively as he pulled her against his punches for the strongest impact. She thought for a short moment that she was going to die, beaten to death by the man who saved her from the Truth Village and its lies. She tried to move her head away from his blows, but he found her anyway. A final punch knocked her so hard that she was propelled from his grip and landed flat onto her back, kicking up a flurry of leaves that framed her shuddering body like a portrait. She coughed, free to breathe, free to think, but not so free to move. She knew she needed to move, but her nerves were misfiring from the pain. She scrambled to crawl away, finally managing to get onto her knees and hands, gripping hard, dry dirt with her finger nails and dragging herself forward. She had to gain some distance, but she didn't get far.
Kaine was on top of her in a moment, his foot stomping onto her hand and holding her still. The weight of his knee fell onto her back, and she felt his hands framing her face, pulling on her hair as his muscles shuddered against her jaw and neck. Akemi was gasping for breath, feebly clawing at the iron grip on her face. If he jerked his hands just a little bit to the left, a little bit to the right, he would snap her neck. She was afraid, but her thoughts weren't on her own life. Rather, she thought of the Truth Village—of its people. The people she had abandoned. Even if she wasn't happy there, she had at least felt safe. How ironic that she would die in a place that was surrounded by peaceful air and chirping birds. A babbling brook, and warm hearths. Home-made stew, and Rika Mori's loving family.
"Don't...do it, Hamasaki," Akemi said, breathless. Her voice was tiny beneath the pressure of Kaine Hamasaki's brutal strength, her windpipe all but crushed by his dense arm. "You'll regret it tomorr—" she was cut off by a tighter grip.
"Bad day," Kaine whispered, his dry, lightning-burnt lips touching to Akemi's ear as he breathed down her neck. Just as he was about to end the woman's life, she was saved by something that forced a sudden cry of agony from the same lips that had spoken to seal her fate. Kaine's arms abruptly lost their hold on her neck, and she was stricken with powerful adrenaline, taking advantage of her loosened imprisonment to break free of Kaine's grip and stand herself upright, shaking her head from side to side and wiping the blood from the lower half of her face. Some of that blood was Kaine's, having still been flowing from the open wound through his palm.
Kaine wasn't very happy. A knife was jammed into his shoulder from behind, forcing his grip to loosen and his mind to snap back into the agony of reality. "Graaah!" he screamed, unable to find the words to express his anger until he began to turn his head and face his attacker. "Rika, you dumb bitch, now you get to...die...too...?" he had begun with a loud vitriol, but when he saw the face of the woman holding the hilt of the now-bloody kitchen knife, he lost his will to speak. "M-Makoto...?" he questioned, not at all believing what his eyes were showing him.
"Idiot! She's being controlled!" Akemi scolded out loudly, and although she was still half-dazed from the beating, she stomped the ground to trigger a small eruption of earth around Kaine's body. The sudden tremor knocked Makoto back and away, the young girl losing her hold on the knife and then falling onto her rounded backside. Following up on the knockdown, Akemi formed a few more seals and produced shackles of stone to hold the mindless girl's arms and legs firmly to the ground. Makoto's body struggled against them, but her face and eyes remained blank.
Kaine was still coming to grips with the situation, bringing his hand up to grab the knife's hilt and attempt to yank it out. He couldn't reach it with enough leverage, and the struggle looked somewhat pathetic. Akemi rolled her eyes, trying to resist the urge to hold a grudge, moving over to grab the knife and dislodge it from between his shoulder and arm bones. There was a spurt of blood to come along with it, and Kaine's vest was beginning to turn purple from the redness of his blood mixing with the deep blue dye. He swallowed hard, just then realizing how difficult it was to breathe through his scorched throat. He had eaten one of his own lightning bolts, quite literally. When he spoke, he did so with a hushed shamefulness. "I could've killed you, Akemi..." he said, cringing at the thought. He couldn't look at her, instead staring at Makoto's silent struggle to escape her bonds.
Akemi allowed herself to look, as well. It was disturbing to see the sweet, bubbly girl with such murderous intent, but a more pressing matter was on her mind. "Yeah, well...you can apologize later. Right now, I need to find Rika; if Makoto's acting like this, it's a safe bet that she's not the only one." Even as she spoke, Akemi was springing to action, her legs pumping with urgency to carry herself back to Monolith Point. It wasn't far away; she could see it through the trees. Her path was obstructed, though, by a small figure in a black robe and hood, one wearing a snake-like mask that had the color of deep summer grass.
The boldness of the figure's chest suggested femininity, and the voice confirmed it. "What's your hurry, doll?" the figure asked, her head tilting to crack her neck sickeningly. "You and I haven't even been introduced," she continued, holding out a hand that was sleeved by a black leather glove. "Call me Cassy; I'm Mamban's favorite~" she murmured with a suggestive purr in her voice.
Akemi looked to the offered hand, narrowing her eyes. "Frankly, lady, I don't care!" she exclaimed quickly, moving to side-step the shorter woman. Mid-step, she tripped on what felt like thin air, tumbling to the ground. Ordinarily, she could have caught her fall, but Kaine's blows were still rattling her brain with aftershocks, slowing her reflexes. She was going to have to pay him back for that one. She tried to get up, but when she used her hand to lift herself, she felt her arm thrown aside, forcing her face into the dirt once more by its own weight.
"Awww, don't be like that," Cassy mocked with prolonged enunciation, kneeling down and running the back of her gloved hand across Akemi's cheek. "Stick around...we're gonna get to know each other real well," she whispered beneath her mask, giggling like a madwoman. Her head was tilting left and right, the mask hiding her eyes and everything else about her face. Akemi moved her head and tried to bite the fingers off the imposing woman's hand, but the gloved digits were pulled back and turned into a wagging, chastising finger. "No, no; no biting...not unless I ask you to," she sighed airily, flicking her right hand and twisting a pair of outstretched fingers. Kaine was charging in, but he ate dirt just as Akemi did. He scrambled to stand up, but he couldn't. Something was holding him down.
"What the hell is this?" Kaine mumbled to himself, biting down on delicious dead leaves as he tried to speak louder. He struggled, and he could feel himself rubbing against something, but he couldn't see it when he turned his eyes down. Akemi seemed to be constricted by some invisible force as well.
Cassy sauntered over to Kaine, kneeling in front of him and bringing her hand up to stroke her smooth chin beneath the rim of her mask. "Mm, maybe I'll like you a bit better," she huskily mused. The woman was certainly an amorous one. "Big, strong, and stupid; a good guard dog, yeah?" Cassy's mask was tilted, her head leaned down to emphasize the narrow pinholes that allowed her to see through her mask. "Bark for me, doggy." She prodded him verbally, her eyes lingering mere inches from his mouth.
"Sure," Kaine said, smirking arrogantly. "I'll bark for you..." He couldn't move his hands together for seals, but he had something else. He opened his mouth, summoning up some of the lingering power left behind from his swallowed bolt; the chakra had been reintegrated to his system, still kneaded and ready to fire—it was actually quite convenient that Akemi had turned his attack back onto him, leaving it ready to launch again. "Woof!" he exploded, and behind the word came the spark of electricity that was cast directly toward Cassy's concealing faceplate.
The air was cold, but Tenzo wasn't flinching under the icy dome. Its shape was like the barrier that surrounded the Truth Village; it went deep underground and completed a sphere. He was sure that Kakashi had already thought of the same, and realized that it would be pointless to try to tunnel out. Tenzo was faced by the blue-masked obstacle that maintained the prison. "So, if I take you down, this whole chamber will crash to the ground alongside you, right?" Tenzo asked.
"You'll never know," the robed male responded, playing up his confidence.
Clapping his hands together, Tenzo pulled out a long, smooth rod. It continued to come, sliding easily free of his flesh as it was weaved out of multiple layers of wood. As the pole reached a suitable length, Tenzo gave it one more tug, a firm completion that finished its creation. It was topped with a thick, sharp poleaxe head. A fully wooden weapon with thrice-woven thickness, sturdy and dependable. He tapped its hilt onto the dirt at his feet, pondering. "I've already figured out the basics," he said, closing his eyes and standing confidently. "As things get close to you, they begin to freeze." Holding out his fresh weapon, he smirked. "I just have to avoid getting too close."
The enemy said nothing, but he did begin weaving signs. Tenzo took that to mean that he was on the right track, but being on the right track didn't necessarily mean he was already close to victory. Figuring out the conditions of an opponent's technique was only the first stage, after all—overcoming it was the next. On top of that, there were sure to be a few extra tricks up the iceman's oversized sleeves. From the opponent's hands came a weapon of his own, forged of ice and crystal clear. The blackness of his robe could be seen through the sharpened blade, distorted by the frigid medium.
"If that's how you like it, Kinoe," the male began, twirling the icy implement around in his palm. "We'll play by your rules until the end. I am Seshu of the Frosted River, and I have a very particular plan for you." Seshu brandished his transparent weapon, then leaped into the air, his robe fluttering in the thin pressure of the cold chamber. He brought his bladed staff down in an overhead swing, which Tenzo blocked with the broad central shaft of his own tool. Both combatants gave a grunt of effort, but neither could immediately overcome the force of the other. Seshu was ultimately pushed back by Tenzo's strong arms once his falling momentum came to a stop, landing on his feet and skidding backward. "I'll hurt you until your face twists in a most exquisite manner, and then I'll freeze it that way...it shall be a beautiful testament to your final moments. Wouldn't you like that?"
Tenzo checked the handle of his new weapon, and as he expected there was a thick sheet of ice folding over the central piece that had come into contact with Seshu's blade. The wood held strong, but if it froze completely through it would likely shatter just as his cage had done. "As tempting as the offer might be, I don't intend to have my final moments just yet. Definitely not in a place like this, with a guy like you," Tenzo poised himself, deciding to go on the offensive. He led with the sharpened point of his spear, offering up a few quick jabs, which Seshu dodged every one of. He was nimble on his feet, and Tenzo could feel the temperature in the sealed room steadily dropping. The cold was making the wood user's muscles less responsive. He had to keep moving, else his body would seize up at a bad time.
Seshu seemed to be exploiting that need for motion, reserving his own movements to save energy while allowing Tenzo to expend all of his effort by trying to land a hit. The man in the mask was unaffected by the conditions, his blood like ice and his skin already frozen on the surface. It was his natural state; he had never appreciated warmth. "Keep it up, Kinoe," Seshu taunted, feeling as if he was in control of the fight. "You might eventually pierce my sleeve if you try your hardest!"
Tenzo aimed to sweep Seshu's feet out from beneath him, but the effort was countered by a hop. The light-footed snow dancer tapped the blade of Tenzo's swiping instrument with the back of his heel, causing some of the surface to freeze over by the time it finished its path. Tenzo scowled at the development, unable to shake the growing layer of ice away from the blade. It eventually stopped building, but not before the cutting edge was glazed over. He broke the weapon over his knee, turning it into two separate rods of about arm's length, wielding one in each hand and supplementing them with extra layers produced from his wrists.
"Not bad," Seshu commented, watching the self-repairing wood go to work. "Not bad at all," he repeated, twirling his icicle above his head idly. "How long can you last in here, I wonder?" he pondered, striking the dirt at his feet with the tip of his blade, drawing it across the ground in a slow arc around his feet. Ice began to coat the floor, slick and nigh-unbreakable. "I can go for a long time..."
Tenzo knew that he had to finish the fight quickly, but he was still having trouble in figuring out exactly how he was going to do that. "I'm not easy to kill," Tenzo warned, though he was questioning his own bluster. With both rods grasped firmly in his hands, he charged toward Seshu. At the back of his mind, he wondered how Kakashi was faring with his opponent.
Kakashi was wondering the same about Tenzo, but his own fight had yet to begin. His yellow-masked adversary was a long-winded, self-assured, and totally clueless blowhard. The truth of the matter was that the leader of Team 7 was tuning out all the flaunting and pompousness. He heard a few words, here and there, but they were sparse. Things like "doom," "rightful place," and "recognition." From the scattered blueprint of mix and match terminology, Kakashi could figure that the man felt unappreciated by his own team and sought a way of proving himself.
"...and that's why your Sharingan is coming with me, Kakashi Hatake. I'll reach into your filthy skull and rip it out with my own fingers! As you lie there, beaten, bloody, broken, and begging for mercy, I'll show you the dead gaze of your own eye! You'll understand in that moment that you were beaten by..." He was still going. He had probably said his name a few times, but Kakashi wasn't listening to it. The experienced shinobi knew better than to rush into a battle, but when he made the choice to allow his opponent to make the first move, he hadn't expected quite so much flourish. He focused on watching the movements, feeling the shifts in temperature. It could have all been an act; a way of getting an enemy's guard down for a surprise attack...yet, if that were the case, his ideal moments had come and gone a few times over.
Kakashi spoke up, his speech coming out with lazy boredom. "Can we hurry this along? I have to go help my friend Tenzo on the other side of this wall."
The man in the yellow had been yammering on about peace and love, or he might as well have been—no matter what subject he had stumbled onto, Kakashi's words cut him like a knife. "Hurry it—you bastard, have you been listening to a word I've said? I intend to savor this chance to make you cry. Speaking of which, I've always wondered...does a Sharingan cry red tears?" Surprisingly, that seemed to be the end of it. He scampered toward Kakashi with his fist reeled back.
Admittedly, when the man decided to take action, he was rather fast. He wasn't fast enough to truly surprise Kakashi, but he was quicker than expected. Once he was close, his fist was flung forward, aimed for Kakashi's midsection. He was sidestepped, and where he was going to land the blow, instead the air exploded into a fiery burst of smoke and concussive force. That was the surprise—the sound of it echoed within the cramped dome, soot filling the area and clouding up both fighters' vision.
So that's this one's ability, Kakashi thought. Another punch was thrown to hit the air, and another heavy blast of explosives filled the space in front of the gloved fist. Can't block it, have to keep avoiding him, Kakashi told himself. His opponent was still talking, taunting, chiding, peacocking, generally making an annoyance of himself. Even if Kakashi had wanted to listen, now, the explosions were making it difficult to hear. His ears had a dull ring after each close call, and although Kakashi felt like he was in control of the battle, his concentration was still required in order to keep his head. He had his Sharingan out and in use, but the buildup of ash in the air was making it harder to utilize its ability to anticipate the enemy's movements.
Just like Susumu, Kakashi told himself, narrowly avoiding more and more jabs and hooks. Kicks were involved, too, but they lacked the explosive edge. Kakashi could tell that his opponent was growing to be frustrated by his inability to inflict damage. The worst he had given so far was a case of temporarily disrupted hearing. All I have to do is get him by the wrists, and he's useless.
With the next strike, Kakashi put his observations into decisive action. As the next punch was thrown, it was ducked beneath, and the Sharingan legend reached up to seize the wrist behind the explosive burst. As he was caught, the enemy paused in surprise, then threw a second punch, and a second massive blast filled the chamber at its apex. The variance in air pressure was a hindrance, but Kakashi had gotten used to it after the past dozen attempts. His vest was peppered with little bits of shrapnel; rocks, twigs and fragments of the surrounding ice prison were all flecking his clothing and hair. At the end of the confrontation, Kakashi had the yellow-masked, practically nameless villain in his grasp and both arms were held at bay. With a swift knee to the face, Kakashi shattered the mask in a single strike, the serpent falling into shambles and revealing an unremarkable, dazed face beneath.
One of Mamban's hand-picked 'royal guard' had been utterly humiliated, and his face was wearing naked shame. The splintering of his mask had also broken his nose, and he muttered a terrified few words that Kakashi most certainly heard: "Don't kill me, I'll tell you anything..."
Kakashi nodded. "That's right...you absolutely will." He opened his left eye nice and wide, the dusty air clearing enough so that the glowing red Sharingan made perfect contact with the unmasked gaze of the explosive user. Kakashi triggered a genjutsu, seeking to milk the man for all the knowledge he was worth—as little as that might have truly been.
Rika was encumbered just like her fellows, though her opponents at the time didn't wear masks or state their motives. Mamban lurked high above, but he kept himself in the background, slouched over the pointed peak of the central monolith in town. On the ground, the road paved but dirty, Rika was trying to avoid the mass of her former townsfolk as they tried to dog-pile on top of her and suppress her. She was nimble for her experience level, able to avoid the grasp of a half-dozen or more zombified villagers at the same time.
Akemi had taught her well, and she could have killed several of them, but she had made the decision not to do it—she didn't know for sure if the condition could be reversed, but she knew that she didn't want to give Mamban the satisfaction of watching her do it. He was clapping like a child upon his stolen throne, wriggling from the hips to the ankles as if he could barely contain himself. "Oh, you've gotten so much better, little trophy. Kill a few friends; see what it's like to be a proper shinobi," he said down to her. Rika glared at him, then she hopped up from another sea of outstretched hands, jumping from one pair of shoulders to the next as she made her way to a roof, hoping to keep herself out of the crowd's reach. They seemed sluggish and stupid, even though her father had been speaking in fluent sentences the moment before he threw the punch. Had he been aware of his fate? Why didn't he warn her?
Situated atop the inn, by pure coincidence, she could see that the swarm of villagers had the presence of mind to go for the ladder. Rika countered that notion by kicking the ladder down, assuming that they wouldn't know to replace its position. She was correct in that, and even though Mamban's 'army' was entirely nullified by a few feet of height, the ring leader didn't seem all that disturbed. He did stand up, though, formerly seated on his rump with his legs flinging about. When he stood, he became still of body. He stared to Rika from across the gap, overlooking waves of soldiers that had once been proud members of Monolith Point's unique ecosystem.
"If you kill them, my dear little lady, I will allow you to run free," Mamban said. Although he spoke softly and the rustling of motion was noisy from below, his voice reached Rika's ears with perfect clarity. "If not, you can be as they are. A life of blissful ignorance as one of my puppets is vastly preferable to one of torment by this world's flaws," Mamban made a sweeping gesture, fingers pointing outward. "It's all a sham. Sus—I mean, 'Minoru' and his truth are shams, the Leaf is a sham, the Land of Fire is a sham...this village is a sham. Your misguided sense of morality is a sham as well, little girl." Mamban took a quiet jump, leaving his perch on the monolith and landing a few feet from Rika with no significant exertion. "Kill them all...prove to me that you're strong enough for the world we live in."
His sudden closeness made the inexperienced ninja fall backward. She knew she wasn't ready for an opponent like him, but she knew she would eventually need to fight. She had seen what happened to the people who didn't fight back—at least Fiona and Mako had been given peace, despite the great pain they must have felt in the process. A life of mindless servitude was the worst possible fate she could imagine. "They're my friends and family, you monster," she said. While she tried to sound tough, she couldn't. She was visibly shaking, her sleeveless arms feeling cold in the surprisingly warm morning air. The sun was bright and shining, a stark contrast to the way she felt beneath Mamban's inhuman stare.
"They're already dead," Mamban informed, turning his head away from Rika and sighing regretfully. "The moment they lose control, there is no saving them..." He tsked, shaking his head and then shrugging his shoulders. "Either you grant them a merciful death, or I send them as the first wave against the Leaf Village. Wouldn't you rather be sure that their lives end quickly?"
Rika was swayed by the thought. She was given a choice—allow them to serve as mindless tools of war, or end the savagery herself with a quick, easy thrust of her kunai. She reached into a pouch on her hip, dressed modestly for combat despite never officially becoming a ninja. "Y-you're sure that there's no saving them? Not even if you wanted them free?"
Mamban tsked again, also shaking his head again. "Nothing can be done. Their fates are sealed; your father, your mother, even your sister." He turned his body toward Rika, taking a step closer. "Ahh, little Makoto...She was easy to convince," he said, his voice becoming sinister to a degree that sent ice into Rika's very soul. Her teeth chattered as the lifeless mask leaned toward her. "Oh, Mister Mamban," he said, mimicking Makoto's voice in a fairly insulting way. "Don't touch me there..." he finished his impression, shivering from the neck up as his mask vibrated to match.
Rika was inflamed. "You sick, sadistic creep...did you rap—" She was cut off by a quick finger against her lips, muffled despite trying to speak. The leather of his glove was rough and adhesive, and the firm touch of his digit kept her mouth totally subdued.
"No, my dear, no. Do you think I'm a savage?" Mamban asked, rather knowingly. "I merely persuaded her," he continued, and while his finger kept Rika's mouth shut, she was crushed under the weight of fear. She had seen what happened to the villagers who tried to run away from him; she had heard the screams of two of her friends as they were caught in the crossfire of his frightening power. His second hand reached around Rika's hip, and for a moment she feared the worst. Instead, she felt a pair of fingers press to the middle of her spine. "A tap to the back," he said, rubbing a small circle against the brown fabric of the sleeveless shirt that was once a dress. "She never felt a thing, I assure you."
"You won't get away with it," Rika said through an uncertain breath. Mamban was practically hugging her with both arms. She spoke against his finger, forcing her mouth to open despite his touch. She tasted the soot and acidity on its surface, but she supposed that the flavor was the aftermath of something, and not the beginning. She didn't feel like she was melting. "Akemi is going to kill you for what you're doing to me..."
Mamban scoffed, releasing Rika unceremoniously and stepping back from her to turn around and admire the walking husks at his feet. "To threaten a monster, you need another monster...Akemi Yamaguchi is no monster. I watched her dive into the fray to spare your wretched little life," he said, wistfully rotating his hands, grasping at nothingness as he spoke. He had the urge again, his feet shuffling about, his body swaying side to side, and eventually his entire self became absorbed into the motion of dancing. It was a bizarre spectacle up close, and Rika wondered at just how mad the man really was. He continued speaking, his voice undulating with the uneven pace of his steps. "Threaten me with Minoru; perhaps with Kakashi Hatake. Do not threaten me with a woman who flees from the faintest whisper of my name..."
A whistle of wind and the light thunk of a foot landing on the inn's roof sounded behind Rika. "Who's fleeing?" the female voice asked, out of breath but stone solid. Akemi had arrived, and her knife was already drawn. There was hate on her face and rage in her bones. She wanted very badly to kill the man standing in front of her, but she wasn't oblivious to the state of the town. Were it just her, she would have gone entirely ballistic, even carved through every one of those people if she had to—but with Rika around, she had to consider the aftermath. Could she have ever lived with herself if she killed Rika's friends and family? She decided that she could—but not if Rika saw it happen.
Mamban didn't seem surprised by her arrival, but he also didn't seem amused. His voice found a sudden seriousness, the games all gone and his dance cut short. "Akemi, isn't it?...you've come after all. Tell me, then...what fate has befallen my cherished Cassy?" The illusion of a ditzy, dainty screwball was instantly shattered. Mamban was as sober as could be, his voice smooth but full of trepidation as he asked. Perhaps the girl in the green mask had been truthful about being his 'favorite'.
Akemi sneered, looking over her shoulder for the briefest of moments. "I'd love to tell you that I ripped the head off her shoulders," she began, gripping the hilt of her knife more tightly. "Hamasaki's with her now, though; he'll probably do it for me."
The blast of lightning had caught Cassy by surprise, but in some way, some how, she managed to split the bolt straight down the middle and send its energy forking into the wilderness to catch flame to a pair of unfortunate trees. She avoided damage, but the momentary confusion seemed to briefly lift the hold on Akemi and Kaine's bodies, and they both got onto their feet with renewed focus. Kaine looked to Akemi, then over past her shoulder toward Monolith Point. "I'll handle this one. Go get Rika, then find Kakashi and Tenzo! Get moving, Akemi!" Kaine was back in a combat stance, and Cassy had her focus on him. She wasn't expecting him to cast a jutsu with no seals, and it seemed that she was unaware of the special circumstances that made it possible.
Akemi didn't waste time, and Kaine saw Cassy trying to make up for her lack of attention, twiddling her fingers in that general direction. He had seen her doing that before, as well, and he drew a quick conclusion. "Now I get it," he said aloud, charging his arm with lightning and sweeping it through the air between Cassy and Akemi. He didn't know for sure at the time, but the action seemed to keep Akemi on her feet and sent a stunned surprise through Cassy as she realized that her attempt had failed. Kaine grinned, his hand and shoulder bloody but his grin looking like bloody murder. "You won't catch me like that again," he started, his blue eyes focused on Cassy's leather-bound fingertips. "Did you think I'd never seen a puppeteer before?"
"I guarantee that you've never seen one like me," Cassy replied without missing a beat. She started to wriggle her fingers again, spinning her wrists in slow circles. Although her strings were invisible, Kaine could tell their path by watching her fingers. He hadn't seen how she split his lightning blast—he could assume that she would do it again if he tried it. He allowed her to have the next move. As her hands continued to rotate, the woman in the green mask began to giggle maniacally.
The world surrounding Kaine began to split into tiny pieces.
That's all for now. Leave a review if you want to, and as always, expect the next update soon! Thank you for reading!