"This is where it all starts for me. Starting with this small bond. I too want to become someone who is needed, instead of a weapon that is feared. And as the Kazekage of Sunagakure."
Garra.
If she acted in haste it'd be over. If anyone of them acted hasty it'd all be over. It'd be over before it could even begin. The genjutsu had to be locked and in effect before they could make their move. It was prudence that this was their one and only option. These thoughts kept Mikito stepping slow and precise as she moved farther up the stairs Yuko was right at her side, Madara was close behind her at her left side, while Daishiro, Akame, Keisuke, and the rest of the unit filtered out.
"I'm sensing a chakra fading." Daishiro remarked, eyes hovering up on the massive ship.
"They're executing rib hangings..." Shinpachi growled, hearing a familiar pop. "I'm going to kill them all."
"Wait until the genjutsu takes effect."
"We don't have that luxury."
Daishiro stood in front of Shinpachi, looking down at the man with a hard gaze. "That's an order."
Shinpachi gripped the hilt of his sword, and drew it. "Fine."
He stalked off, getting as close as possible without giving himself away.
The genjutsu activated.
Not everyone was able to distinguish the fact one had taken effect, and only the most experienced had a rough idea that they were under the effects of a genjutsu. Atsushi, Gentarou, and Chouboyou were all able to distinguish the fact they were under a genjutsu, and they immediately took action. Still, the genjutsu's effect was what they had all been expecting. Suffocating and oppressive, it was doing its intended purpose. This battle could rage, and the ordinary people wouldn't know it was even happening.
Mikito raced ahead, Yuko took off right after her-thinking along the same lines. Madara, half a step late, sprinted ahead turning his gaze onto a door at the far right of the second floor just where it branches into another four hallways. One curving off to the left while the other stretched and curved towards the right. The other two led to the next floor. Before that, however, and on their ground level-there were thousands of the damiyo's soldiers-the Akimichi and Inuzuka were already attacking, and the foreigners were trying to gather their bearing.
Mikito stabbed the first Inuzuka that charged her way, pushed him aside, and brought her blade down on another, swiping through an Akimichi a heartbeat later. She hadn't given them the time to scream. She flourished once more, beaming towards the wooden ramp leading up to the ship. Yuko got ahead of her, cut down two Akimichi, and shoved down a foreigner at the top of the boat-jamming the tip of her sword through his neck.
Daishiro lunged, greeted by dozens of glimmering firearms, swords, and murderous glares. There was a very momentary pause, no foreigner spoke, moved, or blinked.
They were frozen.
Mikito looked at a man hanging by his torso-blood draining from his mouth.
Yuko looked at the same man.
Yuko screamed running for the first foreigner she seen, cleaved through his skull, leaving it to split in half, and plunged her sword through two more before they could gather their bearings. She charged another, kicking him down and stabbing through his neck, three times, in rapid succession. Mikito had already cleaved through twenty foreigners, she was steadily moving ahead without a moment's reprieve. The deck was torn apart. She moved ahead to the next level-Yuko right behind her.
"Who the hell are they!?"
Blood sprayed and Mikito stepped right through it as she pulled her blade free.
Finally, they gathered their bearings-some dispersed trying to escape, and others tried to figher.
Yuko ran after three foreigners that were trying to escape. Her hand braced on her hilt as she met, and cut through the spine of one man-his strangled gasp didn't even reach her ears as she honed in on the second, felling him in the same manner. The third foreigner had managed to get some distance, but she easily cleared it in two bounds, and ran her blade through his leg.
He screamed in pain, and she silenced him, whacking his torso twice. She turned back, expression stony. A few Akimichi had managed to get to them and were now either battling the foreigners or entering an uneasy momentary alliance. Yuko felt minor annoyance, but snuffed it out-she set her eyes ahead, and met them with a calm charge. The first Akimichi to charge felt steel take his throat, the second and third roared in agony as their torsos were split and their bodies made the walls give way.
Their massive bodies crashed down the stairs, bringing out the soldiers of the foreigners.
Mikito charged right at them, stabbing through two-Yuko met her in the middle, slashing off two foreigner's heads. Their offense and defense turned into a whirlwind of death, for every parry or dodge their foes took, they were cleaved through four times over. Mikito pressed ahead with a stab, front foot sliding across the floor until it chipped its base, and her blade gouged clean through a man's shoulder tearing it off.
Yuko pivoted, covering Mikito's back-her blade came down twice, cutting once on the way up-three foreigners fell to her blade.
"Surround them!"
Yuko pressed off of her back foot, lunging across the minuscule gap-her blade rang as it collided with bone, cut through it, and sent the remains flying against a wall. She was pounced on, but Mikito had enough and began slamming her blade against anything that moved, shoving aside four of her attackers in a show of brute force, and whacked down on one man's skull. She slammed her sword down again and again, teeth grit. She stabbed ahead, pushing with everything she could muster-she spread her blade across her foe's side, trusting it through his chest, and thrusting it through his neck to finish him off. Blood gurgled up, soaking her sleeves.
Yuko covered her side-swiping through one Inuzuka at the torso, and grabbed a foreigner by the neck squeezing until his face turned red, and jammed her sword into his stomach, pushing until it protruded from his back. She put her foot against him, and shoved forward. He could only manage a pained groan as he clutched at the gushing wound, falling to his death.
"Got you now, you bitch!"
Her foe grunted. He had made a mad charge, and she met it with a calm deflection. She pressed forward, meeting the attack, and shifted at the last second. Her foe ended up turning with five men that were rushing behind him. Yuko stomped ahead, stabbing forward without any reprieve. Blood and screams slammed against her, but she pressed ahead, and one man that attacked was shoved back-another thirty hastily surrounding her, were forced back and into another tumble.
She let her chakra flourish, felling five men with vicious stabs to the throat and face, they staggered, choking and screaming, crashing through a wall, several could only gasp and fall to their death clutching at their necks. Yuko didn't remove her blade until all the life left her foe, and it was with a swift yank she tore her blade free.
She growled dashing through a wall of bodies around her, blade cutting and gleaming, constantly meeting her movements. Even in evasion or simple movement, she didn't stop whacking and swinging. Her nostrils burned, her eyes teared up, she sprung from the floor evading a bullet and took the opening stabbing into the man's arm at the bicep, no pause, she turned slamming him into the wall, crushing his entire right side. She retracted her blade, and brought it down again, watching half of his face explode in gore.
"Yuko there's more coming!"
Yuto sped down the hall only glancing behind her long enough to count her pursuers and spot Mikito coming behind her, nothing short of a storm.
She banked sharply flying through a devastated room-they were gaining, gaining, and gaining...
Yuko turned, swiftly thrusting her arm forward, cleaving through one man's side, he gurgled, then sputtered Yuko wasted no time, slashing across his neck and shoving him aside. She pressed ahead, cutting across an Inuzuka's face and stabbing a foreigner through the chest, ramming him into the wall, and tearing her blade out. There was no wasted motion, another parry and she watched blood fly, she shifted amidst the storm of crimson, blade piercing through the next attacker's chest. Yuko grabbed him by the shoulder, and threw him back-her blade digging through the man's side as he was heaved aside
He crashed into three men head on-the impact carried them back and away into another horde.
Yuko watched Mikito charge ahead.
She increased her strides, heart pounding, eyes burning.
Closer.
Closer.
Yuko surged forward, slamming her blade against an Inuzuka's chest-feeling the armor dent, and kicked the man back before he could react. Several more attackers pounced on her, like moths to a flame, and rage burned within her as she moved with thrice the speed and force as before. She jumped back, arcing her blade forward in a feint, watching her foe stop short of running himself through face first.
"Don't let anyone escape!" Mikito screamed.
Yuko arced, forcing her two foes to stumble back-she pressed ahead, going after the first-jamming her blade through his chest. His eyes widened, and blood gushed from his mouth as he slid down the wall, leaving a trail of crimson behind him.
She swung, wrists aching as she held back the wild swing from her second foe, and turned to the side. Her foe tried to ride with the momentum, but was forced to stagger off, back and shoulders hunched-Yuko took three steps forward, scything her blade through his back. She dashed to the side, feet slamming off of a wall as she forced herself into a wild corkscrew-she had been swarmed.
Mikito slammed through the wall of people, whacking down ten in the process without breaking her stride. As her foot met its mark, and sent her foe tumbling away, she brought her blade down-slashing an Akimichi through the forehead, her second and third strokes cut him across the skull, and he dropped with a thud. An opening was made, and she forced her forward and into the room. She shoved down her foes, whacked them in two, stabbed them in the face and throat, and didn't even bother to hold back with some. She pulverized them until they were pulpy flesh.
She swiveled dodging past stabs and slashes aimed to cut her trachea and pierce her armor and by extension her heart, she wasn't going to slam blade on blade, there were far too many of them to do something so foolish. She had to overpower them, and simply cut them before they could react. She flourished ducking under a wild swing and turned up slashing her foe's head clear from his shoulders.
Blood sprayed out the stub of the neck as the body thudded to the floor.
Two more people attacked her, forcing her back and away as more swarmed around her, she scythed through one's wrist pushing him aside, a split second later slicing the back of another man's wrist forcing him to the side before stabbing him through four times. She parried one slash, ducking under another, and stepping back from a stab, her sword already straight and pointed, stabbed into the man's neck and shifted sharply splintering bone as she drew it away.
With her teeth clenched and eyes narrowed she sprung from the floor evading a stab and took the opening, slashing off the man's arm at the bicep, no pause, she turned slamming her foot into his side crumbling his armor and sending him flying across the room.
Mikito held her ground, sword dripping with blood, but remaining sharp. She was able to count her foes. Their faces blurred, but their eyes all told the same story in the end.
Three hundred!
She banked sharply.
Gaining, gaining, gaining...
Yuko stomped her foot down in mid stride on the would be attacker's foot and angled her blade downward, driving te tip through the skin by his collarbone. He could only croak in agony as her blade exited from his chest, she drew out her second sword, hand shaking, blade cleaving through her foe's neck. He gurgled eyes rolling behind his head. Yuko sheathed her second sword quickly, retracted her second, and surged forward.
She watched two arms fly straight off to the side, thine fingers half clenched as the nerves still fired off before dying. She clenched her teeth smashing her foot square against her next foe's chest. He crashed into three men head on, the impact booming through the ship carrying them back and pressed ahead, felling two, and growled, yanking her blade out from one man's chest, raising it quickly and smacked aside another attack.
Mikito pressed ahead tearing through anyone who got in her way, she cut blades in two and cleaved bone into pieces, blood sprayed around her, consuming her, and she stepped through the oppressive mist-eyes glinting in the murky liquid. She pressed forward a few inches, colliding with two dozen men, blade on blade, pushing them back and away. More than five fell to the floor, struggling to get up as fast as they could. She didn't give them the chance, and stomped on them as if they wee insects-bones shattered and broke as she held them in place, and jammed her blade through their skulls.
Another horde same at her, and this time, she met the pack with Yuko.
She felled the first with a simple horizontal, splitting through the soft skin at the front of the neck, the next two attacked with vigor screaming in fury, teeth grit and feet digging into the floor Mikito whacked them down, and whacked down the next ten to come, she swung her blade harshly, grunting loud enough for her to hear as six more bodies collided with her own, broke, along with the bodies holding them.
It was Yuko's turn to attack. She sped in Mikito's direction, slamming her blade into the back of Mikito's own, and pushing forward. The collision was enough to break the stalemate, the dozens of attackers went flying, rolling, and skidding back. Yuko was already upon five of of them flicking both of his wrists, her blade vanishing for a moment as it tore through the first man's neck lobbing his head upward, the second man was ripped in two at the chest, and the third was cut across the face. She grabbed her next attacker, sending him to the floor, and stabbed him in the chest. He went for his firearm, and Yuko jammed her knee into his spine, driving her sword through his neck three times, slicing it across the left side of the man's neck for good measure.
The fourth and fifth were grazed, but were caught my Mikito.
She shifted in the same motion bringing her blade back sharply cutting through the fourth man's cheek tearing through part of his mouth and slicing into the top of his neck. She retracted her blade, and brought down on the fifth man-an Akimichi that wished to squeeze her skull. The attack wasn't enough to fell him, and she pressed forward with harsh steps, pulled her blade out, and ran it along the length of his neck before stabbing him four times in the back of the neck.
"Fire the cannons!"
Mikito located the thing in question-she seen a foreigner priming it, and she charged right for him. A battle stricken hallway was the only thing separating her from her target, and the second she took a step, her foe would swarm around her. The attack was anticipated, moving just the barest inch she scythed through her attacker's chest, turning sharply and bringing her blade up diagonally-cutting her next foe clean in two just below the ribs. His organs sprayed, some hanging out, other parts hit the floor.
She stepped away to the side, narrowly avoiding the harsh strike of an Akimichi, he crushed her fallen foe with his foot, and she shifted ahead, cutting into his back and stabbing him through at the shoulder blade.
"Fire the cannons!"
Mikito snarled, eyes wild as she rocketed towards the foreigner. She snapped her hand out, shoving the cannon aside as it weighed nothing-it screeched as it broke into the floor and began to shred through it. In the same motion, she ran her blade through the foreigner-just above his heart-her blade pointed horizontally. Like flame to butter, her blade cleared through the man-and he could only groan in pain.
"You fool! The cannon is going to misfire-!"
"Then we all die!"
Madara met a horde of people before they could even start their attack. He swiped and hacked-he wasn't going to take his chances. He battered them with his gunbai and cleaved with his gunbai. Even if their chakra was miniscule, these foreigners were all deadly. Exactly ten Inuzuka from what he had been able to see, and at least fifty of the damiyo's soliders, had been felled by those firearms.
He didn't give them the chance to raise their arms. He allowed the battle overtake him, and he gave himself to it wholly. He was a wave of attack and defense, a sphere of blades, that kept his influence constantly rotating. Blood flew above him, sometimes fifty feet, arms fell, fingers flipped away, arms and heads were lobbed, and legs were cut in two.
The smell of gunpowder made him jump-the ear piercing thunderous explosion, even with chakra cushioning the entirety of his ears, made him dash in mid air, blurring into a violent form of color and movement. He seen the flash fire of the explosion-how far it'd spread out, how the wood would separate and disperse into smaller pieces, some burning, some disintegrating. He could see how it'd force him aside from Mikito and Daishiro, how it'd keep Yuko right in the middle of the battle.
He flared his chakra, until his aura shined, and he propelled himself ahead of the explosion. Fire swarmed his form, all but for a second, before he speared through it, leaving a massive hole in the wall. The damage had been done, and a part of the nearby ship, in addition to this one, had been blown apart. The foreigner was priming the cannon to fire once more, and Madara rammed his foot down on the cold steel-forcing it to go through the floor and vertical, before kicking it again-watching it splatter his foe's body on a wall.
Madara turned, swiping his gunbai behind his back, and drew his sword in the same motion.
Daishiro beamed before him, a cackling force of motion, and cleared through four of the people that were prepped to attacking, surging like a spark of lightning. He shifted, a surge of light enveloped his form, spreading out in every direction, before it focused. It lanced ahead, meetings it targets-Daishiro had full control over the burning crimson, and he raised it once more, leveling through his opposition in one, violent swing.
He appeared before a foreigner, crouched low, and he swiped...
"Go ahead of me! I'll kill them!" Daishiro snarled, swiping his sword in a full rotation.
Madara speared away, his vision shifting upside down for a second-Daishiro's attack was just enough to fell the next wave, giving him a seconds' opening. Almost ten feet away-Madara was already beaming for them-two foreigners were primed to fire their cannons. He banked, taking a sharp turn in mid air, and as he wound around, fire and noise burst from the black, foreboding holes whipping and howling.
He wasn't surprised in the least by the reckless attack. He'd sensed the foreigners' fear eclipse, just as the cannons surely fired, and struck a great distance away, or close by.
He brought his foot down on the cannon, sending a torrent of wood and steel flying. He carved a deep gash along the foreigner's left foreleg. When he reared back to bellow in pain, he sliced another deep groove in his belly, and another across his neck. His next foes weren't any smarter, but some of them didn't fall right away. Instead the pain drove it into a rage. It flailed about with their hands and firearms, spinning, snapping, slashing, and firing at everything around them
Madara twisted and dodged, leaping over one attack, then dropping to the ground to roll beneath another. He moved so fast he would have been nothing but a blur had his foes not blinded by rage. And with each evasion he struck another blow, whittling away at their numbers like a lump of clay. He dashed and spun, moving so erratically some began to vomit.
His foes floundered, lumbering and stumbling, thrashing and snarling, as if they were performing some drunken dance. In contrast, Madara was quick and precise. With each passing second his opponents slowed, their strength ebbing away. At last, with a forlorn groan, a few toppled forward-eyes wide as the cuts on their throats still bled. Others rolled weakly, clutching at the gashes or holes in their chests.
Leaving them where they collapsed, Madara pressed on with a ferocious urgency to his pace. He was zoned in. Ready to kill. He had no misgivings or hesitation, nothing was impeding him. He was becoming a killing machine. The battle, long and problematic as it had proved, was the first time he'd been tested in a true life-or-death struggle since the winter started. He was pleased that his skills not only hadn't diminished, but they also increased fifty fold.
Madara crouched a few inches in front of his foes, his hilt grasped with two hands, blade pointed up at the throat. Hatred spilled from the Inuzuka's eyes, rabid as they were. The foreigners were spewing venom, but fear was consuming them, and the Akimichi remained as they'd always been. Hundreds stood before him, and thousands were around him and his surroundings. Clenching his hilt until he felt his callouses pull, he lashed out with blade, blocking, and then swiftly broke his stance-his blade whipped violently, almost vanishing.
A full on charge was foolish and wouldn't work. His foes that attacked proved this, cut across the chest or face, some even lost a part of their nose and were sent staggering back. There was no way they could defend themselves against his attack. He took advantage of their momentary reprieve-he rammed his foot into one Akimichi, clutching at his shoulder as he fell, making sure he took down others with him.
Madara pulled his arms up, and the point of his blade punctured flesh. He brought it up again, lashing down with no technique, only brute force, and he stabbed again, and again, until his sleeves were drenched and he felt blood soaking near his back. He pressed all of his weight onto the ball of his front foot, arms extending in a stab, as quickly as his foe lashed out, he fell.
Madara heaved a breath, speeding towards a staircase, hise entire body tensing as he drew his sickle back, drew his gunabi forward, and with a mere two feet separating him, he swept forward-his weapon cackling through the air, ringing as it hit flesh and busted bone, and whipped as he brought it back. A foreigner was before him, firearm raised...
He only had time to bring his gunbai up to block...
But before he did...
Yuko sped forward lashing out with her arm, the air screamed and whistled, overshadowed by a throaty cry of pain sounding from four men, and the foreigner. Drenched in blood Yuko pressed her attack launching another stab and growled as it tore through her foe's neck, she shoved him against the wall, gripping her hilt tighter, and ripped her blade free, cleaving the man's skull in two.
"Who is that bitch!?"
"Kill her!"
Madara went on the attack, and was jolted by another whirlwind of speed-Mikito. Clasping her hilt with both hands holding her ground as their foes advanced and retreated, she whacked through them all. She swiped her blade to the side, hard, four times, shifting her grasp for a moment as it still shined, despite being coated in battle. She dashed back with a start, narrowly evading a shuriken that was homed in on her foot. She pressed on the Inuzuka that attacked her-he tried to grab her by the neck, but she rammed him into the wall, blade gouging into his chest.
She hastily jumped over a swiping blade rolling away from another, and shot upwards tearing through two men that had been prime to take her head. The third that had been primed for the attack could only dodge, and scream in pain as blood gushed from the long gash running along the length of his forearm. She struck out again, felling her wounded foe, and pushed ahead despite the sweat burning her eyes and strain in her arms.
"Get to the lower levels, Madara!"
"I got it!"
"Yuko! Go with him!"
Madara dashed forward, sliding through a corridor. The Inuzuka had done a good job tearing everything apart. The Akimichi had cleared out pathways to compensate for their size. The foreigners own weapons were blasting holes in the ship. He found the staircase leading to the lower levels-an Inuzuka's body hung lifelessly, and as he sped past, the body fell.
"Madara!"
Yuko met the Akimichi head on, slamming her blade right into his forearm, and quickly swiveled, retracting her blade, aimed forward ,the tip of her blade tearing into her attacker's shoulder and exiting through the back at the shoulder blade.
Madara grabbed the foreigner running towards Yuko, stabbing him right in the sternum, retracting twice, and gouging into him again.
"Acckkggghh-!"
"Ahhhgggghhhh!"
Their cries of pain alerted everyone else to their presence. Madara watched Yuko, nearly drenched in blood, press ahead without any hesitation or fear. She shoved aside debris too big to be stepped over, and marched over what she could, always attacking when she was in range. Madara marched down the stairs, slowly catching up to the younger woman, and smashed a hole into a man's face.
His eyes whirled violently-the three tomoe expanded.
His next horde of foes exploded, their blood and organs, shredded, and waste as well, as flew through the air-almost completely still, before dispersing violently, as if kicked up by a whiplash of chakra. The Akimichi backed off for a second, the foreigners all retreated the best they could, and the Inuzuka continued their attack despite seeing him activate his Mangekyo.
Madara sped ahead, teeth grit.
"Fire the cannons!"
Madara ran faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Izuna shrieked through the air, dodging bolts of fire and sparkling projectiles, jumping over cannon fire that ruptured the frozen ground, burst the rock-like crush, screaming past explosions so fast that his hair was kicked up by the shockwaves, near continuously, and dodging whizzing bullets by the merest fractions of a centimeter. He lost track of Mikito once one of the ships were blown apart from the inside out. Two more had been blown out on the right sides, and another had been blown from the inside out, on the fourth level.
He had raced in that direction, but was cut off by Inuzuka. They were a rabid and tenacious bunch, going for his throat in every sense of the term. A lot of clans-shinobi or not, could be extremely cut throat, but the Inuzuka were one of the few that would actually go for the throat-like a bite. He met their tenacity with cool precision, never losing his composure despite how voracious they became.
He didn't understand why they always found it fit to meddle at the wrong times. He wondered why the foreigners were attacking all out, despite knowing defeat was inevitable. The damiyo's army, the Akimichi, the Inuzuka, and themselves were all closing in around them while battling. He had to wonder why the damiyo's army continued to fight so hard, despite knowing they'd all be cut down.
The docks were chaos, and the helpers-who had no training, did everything they could to escape, but many weren't able to escape or were lost in the melee, covering themselves in what they could and hoping they'd survive. The foreigners threw all caution to the wind-they were swinging their swords, firing their firearms and cannons, trying to thrust their spiked muzzles through anyone that wasn't their own.
Izuna skidded to a stop, shifting, and his blade swiped through an Inuzuka at the chest. He glided past the man, already transitioning into another thrust. The Inuzuka tried to meet the attack, but failed, as he was run through on the right side-just below his heart. He thrashed and snarled, trying to sink his teeth and claws into his flesh.
With an angry growl Izuna kicked the body away.
They didn't impede him. None of them. Because ahead, on the vast deck of a boat, one side of it spat arms, legs, and heads skyward-there was lightning clashing, but this lightning was the color of clashing swords. Of firing cannons. Of those firearms igniting before they were unleashed. Fans and sheets of color, and a crimson flame. It was chaos, and it took everything he had not to get lost in the melee.
He kept his focus on the ship he was rocketing towards-once he made it on the deck, he'd go from there.
He put on another burst of speed. The fires of ignition faded and winked out, the lightning was growing more erratic. The air howled as he slammed his foot into the ground, caving it in, and part of it onto its side, flying through shearing clouds turbulence, bringing himself to a skidding halt. The deck was slick with the moisture from rain and snow, blood was mixing in-making it even more slick.
His skid was exaggerated, and looked like he had was staggering instead of stopping. Still, ungraceful as it had been, Izuna landed on the deck. A blast of lightning and pure power hit the pillar holding up a sail, only a few feet away from him, and its white burst flared, flash-blinding him. The shockwave that followed carried him away, slamming him against a wooden slab that housed a cannon. Madara blinked furiously, clenching at his eyes in frustration.
His eyes focused once more, bringing into focus a jumble of bodies on the deck.
Bodies in armor and strange clothes. Arms and fingers lay-four men were hunched up against part of the boat, struggling to stop the bleeding. He believed one of them had to be Inuzuka. Their deaths would come soon. He scanned the deck once more, noting it was clear. The other decks were flying and literally swarming with people-it seemed this was the only ship that had been decimated in its entirety.
For a moment, he contemplated running to one of those decks and jumping right into a fight. He could see the Domou and Uchiha running people down, like they'd always done. The rest of the clans that joined them were starting to find the same rhythm. However, he had his priorities at the moment, and that was getting to the bottom of this ship and away from the shrieking fire of bullets and cannons.
He wasn't sure where Madara was.
"Don't let anyone escape!"
Izuna's heart raced-that crazed shout came from Harada or Shinpachi, if he had to guess. It sounded like it came from three different people at once.
His blade sang blue, slashing through the wall he stood before and he dived through the gap. He rolled to his feet among a litter of bodies and sprinted through a shattered door along the wide corridor and through a doorway that flashed and flared with battle. Izuna skidded to a stop. It was barely light, fires and candles starved what shadows they could. He stepped over an arm, a leg, and part of a torso. The bodies weren't even in tact at this point.
Izuna hardened his eyes, going on the move. Finally, he heard noise, and shot towards it. Within the corridor, it was sheer madness. He seen close quarter combat, loved it, and planned for it, but he never seen something like this before. People were wrestling and pressing each other against walls, their blades weren't swung or even thrust, they pushed and shoved. Flesh peeled before splitting, and finally gouging. Bones chipped, and screams sounded off as death seized many.
He could see some of his own wounded, but still fighting.
"Damn you..."
He felt the faint signature before he heard the hoarse rasp. He wasn't impressed with the foreigner. He stared him in the eye, careful to take in his appearance. His blonde hair was matted with blood, his eyes-blue-looked to be a sunken black as red cracks surged throughout, erasing the white. He was missing an arm, and a long cut ran horizontally across his face.
He wondered how the man was still moving, let alone speaking.
Izuna said nothing as he ended the man's life.
His appearance was something of a storm-what Akimichi and Inuzuka were battling snarled in fury, the foreigners, seeing one of their own dead at his feet turned their arms against him. Sinking like a predator, Izunaa went on the attack. Each whirl of blade was a strike of precision. It cut through bone, it ripped sinew in two, and it sent firearms scattering. He pressed his assault in the only way he knew. Madara always had his gunbai and sickle combination.
Izuna was pure kenjutsu.
He was cautious of the firearms. He seen one particular rabid Inuzuka get dropped as it pierced clean through the man's skull. The foreigners were furious and desperate enough to fire them at such close quarters. They didn't want to lose their slaves, but they were furious over the fact they'd make no profit. The explosion was enough to scorch skin, and if the projectile did manage to hit flesh-it could penetrate. Izuna knew that he could never walk away unscathed from battle-nobody did. Still, the thought of being wounded by one of these trinkets didn't sit well with his pride.
Several foreigners got close enough to fire-and they did.
The flash of fire and power didn't blind him-he didn't focus on that. He focused on what came after that-two round balls that appeared to be made of steel, or some metal. It wasn't like the cannon balls-small and concentrated, he imagined these men had hundreds at their disposal. Madara concluded, seeing the things travel, they were capable of more than just wounding a shinobi.
It could kill a shinobi.
The foreigners blinked.
Maybe they were still a bit flash-blind from the fire scorching at their retinas. They hadn't prepped it correctly, and the ignition was near point blank. The wild hair man they'd been ready to kill seemed to be fading in and out of existence, half swallowed by a thickening black haze in which danced a meters long bar of glinting death. The first several foreigners were gutsy, and pressed back the darkness with a relentless straight-ahead march; their own blades, glowed white, that distinctive thin and narrow blade, made its appearance known for just a second.
Four more were dropped in the blink of an eye, Izuna's hand slid along the length of his hilt as he thrust forward once more. This foreigner didn't take his chances. He loaded his gun and prepped to fire it. Izuna was in a sphere of darkness, spouting with fire. There seemed to be dozens of blades slashing in all directions at once.
The shadow they fought, that blur of speed—could that be a shinobi?
No, it couldn't be a shinobi.
This was something else...
Bullets and Izuna's sphere collided, crashing together with bursts of fire, weaving nets of destruction through the air. Madara brought his sphere forward, swiping his right arm straight across line of his vision-a loud ring pierced his ear, and with some glee he watched half of the bullet snap back to its owner, ripping through his skull with ease.
Chakra roiled and burst and crashed around him, boiling with power. The room was alive ricochets of lethal intent. And it was darkening. Madara could feel how the atmosphere was feeding upon it; he could feel fury and rage spray in his mind. He dropped his restraints. He had already put his gunbai in a sealing scroll and drew his sword. People were starting to cut loose, and if he had to guess...
An explosion of wood and fire forced him to the side. The corridor was narrow, and already clogged with people. He was in the middle of battle himself-stabbing his sword deep through an Inuzuka's chest-the foreigners were starting to target, those that remained alive before him, at least. The result of the explosion was what he'd been expecting-he was thrown to the side like a ragdoll, with no room to give, the corridor split in two, separating everyone within a heartbeat.
Izuna rolled. He was submerged in fire, swallowed by it, he continued rolling. He swiped at the first person who moved once he seen past the hazy orange and red. He moved through the hole blast-the ship had taken damage, and looked like the cannonball had punched itself halfway through it. He reflected on the explosion, how easily the wood had caved, and how easy it had been for it to throw himself included, people away.
The battle had taken a different direction due to that. Water had to be getting in the lower levels of the ship, if he had to guess. The people in the corridor, well, he wasn't sure if they were still alive or dead. They hadn't been present when he recovered, blasted away by the sudden cannon fire. The foreigners weren't to be underestimated by any means.
He pressed ahead towards the chakra signatures. There were no sounds of battle this time. No screaming. After a full minute he arrived to his destination, the third lowest level of the ship, and could barely contain the smirk spreading on his face.
He spotted movement, near a bypass.
Izuna went after it.
The glint of steel caught his attention. The long muzzle of the firearm was the next thing to catch his attention. He grabbed the muzzle with one hand, slicing through the firearm with a quick swing of his blade, and thrust the blade through the man's chest for his trouble. This foreigner was strong though, and clenched onto the sleeve of his bloody haori.
Izuna dug his sword in deeper.
This was a wave of battle that expanded into every foot of their surroundings. There were trunks that fell, wooden pillars that collapsed nor shred of wood and bark that might was disintegrated in the melee. Rooms became brief shields, sliced into segments that, stairs and walls became terrain to be climbed and leapt off for advantage or overleapt in retreat.
But there was still only the cycle of battle, the endless wave, crashing and bashing like the explosions and might have gone on forever. It very well could, but steps and measures were taken so it didn't go on forever. If anything, it'd be over before it even truly began.
The fighting was effortless for him now. He let his body handle it without the intervention of his mind. While his blade spun and cut, while his feet slid and his weight shifted and his shoulders turned in precise curves of their own direction, his mind slid along circuits power, tracing it back to its limitless source.
He found a knot.
He chose the largest fracture.
He followed it. It led him, astonishingly, to exactly two hundred Inuzuka standing in the destroyed doorway.
"Izuna Uchiha."
Izuna crouched into a stance.
"I'm going to make you pay."
A surge of power nearly blew him right out of the gap he had just cut. Izuna pushed off of the wall of, altering his path enough that he slammed into a wooden pillar instead of stumbling down a hole a few feet away. It put him right in the spot he wanted to be, and with a quick flourish, he drove the tip of his blade into the Akimichi's chest, and instead of thrusting back out, he drove it deeper, and pushed forward.
He could feel his blade starting to give, made of chakra steel, and imbued with chakra, the Akimichi were a lumbering bunch and they had no equal physically. And, they could sense this, and so three tried to latch onto him. Due to the small closure, only two could get through to attack him. He turned, shouting, turning their weight against them. He angled the blade to bring them down, diagonally. The Akimichi impaled tumbled away.
One Akimichi was crushed by his comrades.
The one that remained unaffected ran towards him, knocking his dying comrades aside. He was unbelievably fast, and Izuna just barely got out of the way from the massive fist that crashed through the wall-a blast of smoke of force rushed beyond the impact point, forcing the wood to crackle like thunder. Izuna could hardly contemplate the damage done to the ship-he brought his blade down, cleaving through his foe's side.
"Aaaagghh!"
Izuna grabbed his foe by the arm, driving his blade deep into his chest. He yanked it out, puncturing through flesh again. He didn't have time for finesse-ten more Akimichi got through the opening created by their comrade-there was less than five feet separating them. He could end them with a swing of his sword, granted they surrounded him, but taking them head on would prove time costly. His foe stumbled, and Izuna stabbed him four more times, shoving him against a wooden pillar before ending his life.
A roar rung his ears. It took him by surprise. One particular massive Akimichi charged right for him, feeling like he was shaking the entire ship, Izuna wasn't entirely sure he would brace against him. Retreat wasn't an option, and any chance of getting distance would turn into attrition. Izuna flicked his blade in one precise arc and slash through the man's shoulder, splitting flesh and shattering bone. Blood sprayed before him, and he could feel smack into his clothes with vicious force.
Unfazed by the attack, his foe smashed into him, one hand grabbing him by the throat, and with rage, and fell through the floor. Izuna swung forward with an elbow, aware of his position-chakras were swarming all around him, and the screams of those battling shook him. His elbow was blocked, as he'd expected, and with just a second to spare, he rammed his head into his foe's face. A shout caught his attention-it was close, he recognized the tone.
"Damn you! You stupid little shit!" His foe thrashed, temporarily blinded as his nose gushed with blood. "Wait until I get my hands on you!"
Izuna ended his life.
"Don't retreat!"
Izuna leveled his blade, thrusting forward, feet slamming ahead as he pressed his attack. He could pick them off two at a time as long as used the space around him well enough. Even if they did manage to swarm him, he'd manage to fell them with swift sword work. But, they could see the warp in his armor and the blood dripping from his hand, originating from his shoulder.
Like sharks to blood, the Akimichi were targeting his wound.
Izuna had a second to see his surroundings. Bodies. Cells. People clamoring and screaming. The colors that flourished were like peacocks. He lifted his arms, bringing his blade down.
"Fool!" The Akimichi's voice was a shout of thunder.
"Do you think that can kill me!?"
Power blasted the floor below him, and power blasted from the Akimichi's massive hand, and Izuna didn't have time to comprehend what his foe was rumbling on about, he had time only to slip back into a tight stance, and angle his blade to catch his charging foe dead center in the sternum, and his foe dazzled hatred that clawed toward him.
Izuna snarled, felling more Akimichi until blood dripped to his wrists and his hair was sweat slicked and stuck to his forehead. He sprinted through an empty vaulted hallway, clattering echoes of his footsteps, and those battling around him making it sound like a stampede. The main doors of a cabin were violently swinging inward and back out. Izuna had seen the person who caused it.
Shin Domou.
Covered in blood-Izuna wasn't sure if his uniform would even be good after this.
Izuna charged in without a moment's reprieve; as soon as he was close enough to fell a foreigner, he did, he slipped through his weak guard and cut off his head. He fell an Akimichi and Inuzuka in unison, drawing his sword out in a long, precise arc. Shin stood several feet away, shoulders back, his blade pointed up at his foe's neck, and those surrounding him.
"Where's Madara and Yuko?" Izuna shouted, fighting his way towards his comrade.
"Separated. The ninth ship. Yuko is on the third. One of the cannons misfired a blew a part of this boat, and another out!"
"Where is Mikito?"
"I'm not sure. She was one of the first to storm the ships along with Madara, Yuko, and Daishiro, once the foreigners began to attack, everything turned to chaos." His words trailed away.
His vision was consumed with foes. Targets. All of them had to be fell. Hundreds.
But, knowing this ship was swelling with water-put him on edge.
"Got you now-!"
The last thing the Akimichi felt was the point of a blade against the soft flesh beneath his chin; the last thing he heard as blade chewed upward through his head and burst from the top of his skull and took away his life, was crisp pop of bones.
Shin removed his blade from the Akimichi, eyes burning, gaze flinty. He turned, thrusting and was met with little resistance. He shoved the Akimichi down, bringing his blade down brutally and painting the floor with his foe's body. There was no finesse or technique behind it, only brute force. The inclination to kill. Blood bubbled from the next attacker's mouth, he strained staggering back, Shin pressed ahead, and cut him across the stomach, dropping him like a rock.
Two down.
He had little time to do anything other than spin, straining through the whole movement, he arced, jamming his weight forward when his blade met flesh. His foe flipped down the nearby flight of stairs uncontrollably slamming into a horde of people.
"Let's clear them out!"
Shin nodded in agreement, nostrils flaring, body starting to tremble.
Izuna pressed ahead of Shin by a foot, kicking the now one arm foreigner back and into three that fired the weapons. Blood splattered from the projections, and he only had time to slice one Akimichi on the wrist, and land a quick knee that sent him sprawling across the ground. He bolted forward ducking under a wild swing from an Inuzuka, and turned once he got near two Akimichi, bypassing them, and slashing a firearm in two.
Izuna lunged forward, scything his blade through the foreigner's arm tearing into it at the elbow joint. He shifted to the side, pressing the palm of his other hand against his hilt, and jammed forward.
More people attacked. In the haze of battle, they were too numerous to even count. Izuna didn't want to guess how many were charging at him-the Inuzuka were tearing through everyone and everything, but the Akimichi were making an actual concentrated effort. But Shin and his surrounding comrades took the helm, though they were forced back and out of the room sprinting through the ravaged and battle stricken hallways, they successfully dispersed the numbers.
Dodge.
The attack was anticipated.
Moving just the barest inch Izuna scythed through his attacker's blade, jamming his foot forward, arms already extended. His blade met his foe's throat. It cleaved. He pressed ahead. He swung, deflecting the harsh stroke, and swung again-his attack was dodged with a quick duck, and he pressed his attack once more, swinging twice in raid succession.
The Akimichi ducked under the first swing, but brought his forearm up to block it, and was mortified when he seen his arm fly. Izuna continued his attack, cutting into the back of another man's wrist, and bypassed through two. Normally, Izuna would admit, an Uchiha swinging a sword wouldn't cut off an Akimichi's arm-in addition to being massive, they used chakra to strengthen their bodies and bones.
However he wasn't using just his clan's kenjutsu anymore.
"Where are the slaves?" Izuna asked, noting that their foes were backing off.
Shin maintained his stance as he spoke. "We managed to get them out and through a bypass-Bunji, Aito, Noboru, and Katsumi were leading them. I stayed back to cover their movements, I'm not sure where they are."
It appeared to gather his bearings, they'd need to clear out their enemies or force them into a retreat. If the Inuzuka were anything to go off, they'd soon be a problem to those outside of the ships, than inside. They weren't working in unison with the Akimichi like they'd been anticipating, and the Akimichi's concentrated effort, in addition to the foreigners and Inuzuka, was proving to be problematic.
Izuna dashed forward, going on the attack. He caught one man across the face slicing through part of his nose. He kicked him away with a chakra enforced foot, in the same motion he dashed back, mindful of his narrow surroundings. If he remained in one spot it'd start to swing things into his disadvantage. Constant movement was his friend.
He slammed his back foot into the floor, flying through a hallway, lashing out with his blade towards an arm poised for his neck, and shifted sharply once he got close enough. His blade jarred at it met its mark, sputtering flesh and blood until bone finally gave way. However, he didn't expect his foe to be so tenacious, and his hand that gripped his face, and shoved his head back, actually split his head open.
Izuna stumbled, falling to the ground. He cleared his head, but in the time it took to do that, and his fall, an Akimichi was on top of him trying to crush his organs. He poised back, and drove his blade up-growling a he felt the immovable resistance of an Akimichi's body.
"Nggghhhhhh!"
Izuna snarled-his blade was half way into the Akimichi's torso.
The Akimichi hammered his fist into him, four times.
The weight became unbearable, and with a turn, he deposited his headless foe's body on the floor. He pressed forward with Shin tearing through anyone who got in their way, never trading blades, whacking and unleashing lethal strokes taking off heads and arms, taking down four Akimichi, five Inuzuka, and ten foreigners at once.
Izuna brought his blade up, brought it down, and went to sheath it, before pausing. He wasn't oblivious to how much blood was covering it. Even if he swiped it to the side, a good amount would still be on the blade, and this one would likely be useless at the end of this battle. He whipped it as hard as he could, sheathing it swiftly, keeping his hand on the hilt.
"We need to get to the top of the deck." Shin remarked, eyes hovering on their surroundings.
They were in such a small area that soon enough he'd have to go back to back with Izuna and they'd make a final stand. If the Akimichi could close them off down here, they'd hold an advantage. Their comrades would only be able to get so far-they were on their own.
Izuna pressed his hand to the wound, sticky and moist, he looked at the red liquid-his blood.
Shin brought his blade down, just before an Akimichi could strike Izuna.
His foe managed to dodge, barely, staggering back in frustration.
"I don't think that's possible." Izuna finally said.
An Akimichi smirked, slamming his fist into his hand-the sound was like thunder. "End of the line. Even if I drown, you two are doing down with me!"
"Yes!" Hundreds of Akimichi shouted, pounding on the walls.
Izuna and Shin shifted-this was no longer a battle.
This Akimichi was suicidal, and if the rest followed his lead...
A few pulled out explosive tags.
Izuna snarled.
Shin swung, breaking his stance, his blade whiplashed violently-two Akimichi fell back, clutching at their chests as blood sputtered. The third, that had been ready to set off the tag, snarled as he tried to jump back-but felt cold steel take his breath away. He wasn't going to let them set off any more explosions, if they wanted to fight to their last breath, he'd gladly oblige, but he wouldn't entertain a torrent of water rushing in right in his face.
There'd be little time to act, and he'd be contending with charging Akimichi and explosive tags.
"They'll get tired eventually, our comrades have theirs on the higher levels and outside!"
"Go."
Shin's voice, strained and deep as it was, brought a chill to Izuna. He was fighting more aggressive, more ferocious, and he wasn't showing any mercy. There was no restraint. Shin was cutting loose and whoever he faced was going to be in for a brutal end-he was foregoing slashing and just shoving his foes down before gouging their bodies in two with his blade.
Izuna only nodded, dashed to the side, forcing their foes to go after him. He made sure to get a good look at Shin, and noted the young man was trembling violently, but it wasn't from exhaustion. Izuna pushed it aside, and dashed through a narrow corridor finding himself hard pressed, fighting to stay balanced as the boat rocked. He stopped dead in his tracks, thrusting his blade behind him. The irate shout and gurgle were enough o let him know he met his mark, and with a start he went into a sprint.
He forced his way through destroyed rooms where battles were still raging. The Akimichi normally did hit and run attacks-their brash nature allowed them to do damage in an extremely short amount of time. They were about to mount a concentrated offense, but they didn't often do it.
His hair clung tight to his skin as he turned, the wind rushed against him, and his vision was as sharp and clear as it'd ever been. His blade arced low instead of high, and tore through three of his foe's legs, managing to get the knee on each of his targets. Though, the third person-a foreigner, had managed to get away at the last second, so instead of losing the limb, he simply had a gash along the back of his knee.
However, his attack cost him.
He barely stood up from being flung before he was heaved up once more.
It wasn't often he used the Mangekyo, and barring recently, he couldn't remember the last time he actually used it. However, now was the time to use it-the three tomoe wasn't cutting it at this point, and if the Akimichi wanted to use attrition, it would start to tax his chakra. He had to overwhelm like Shin was, but his kenjutsu was of a different level, Izuna would use brute force.
The Akimichi and foreigners, and the Inuzuka, all took a step back-shocked, stunned, amazed, fearful, and every other emotion. They'd heard many stories of the Mangekyo, Madara and himself utilizing it and awakening it-they knew its power, but they hadn't yet seen it.
Izuna's eyes snapped open-his three tomoe whirled, his eyes glowing, and within an instant the three tomoe branched out into three thick lines, interconnected in the middle.
The Akimichi holding him exploded in a shower of gore and blood. His body popped like a balloon, and everything inside flew I every direction, shredded and ripped into meaty pulp.
His foes stood motionless, only able to stare at what had happened.
Some couldn't even register it.
Izuna angled his blade, face impassive.
"Come at me."
Atsushi wasn't surprised in the least. He had been expecting a confrontation sooner or later. Was hoping for one. He'd sensed Souji's presence from several hundred meters away, just as he had surely caught his own and stalked him from some great distance before springing for his attack. He met his charge with brash, ruthless, unrelenting force. He struck Souji with his torso, snarling as the man's generated force sent him staggering back, but Souji smacked into the ground, audibly.
Atsushi charged, not in the mood to take his time or feel out his foes. He only wanted to crush and inflict harm. When Hiro reared back to stab him, he smashed his hand into his lower ribs, heaving him up, and sending him through a nearby tree. Hiro didn't hit the ground right away; he had been flung too hard, and fast. Instead the momentum drove him into another tree.
Isamu and Isami were on him a second later, swinging, bashing, hitting. Atsushi seen black for a second, as Isamu, in a show of agility, kicked him while flipping to the side. He reached out to grab Isamu, but found Saki in his sight. She struck him in the stomach, flashing away for an instant before appearing on his side. He flailed about charging, swinging, grabbing, smashing.
Saki twisted and dodged, nimbly escaping being crushed by Atsushi's massive hands. He was easily three times her size, and she wasn't going to take her chances I being touched. She struck him on the jaw, leaping over one attack, then dropped, legs going all the way out to the sides as she evaded his clubbing forearm. He moved, his foot coming, so fast he would have been nothing but a blur, but Saki was faster and shifted away, heels digging into the ground.
Souji struck Atsushi before he could make a beeline for Saki. Hiro came along from the side twice as fast, eyes hard as he clenched his hands. With each evasion and collision they struck another blow, whittling away at the mountain of muscle, sinew and flesh like a master sculptor working a lump of clay. But, Atsushi remained unfazed, driven by rage, and he threw Saki like a ragdoll.
Rio kicked Atsushi in the thigh, snarling as he small body, pressed against Atsushi's. He floundered, lumbered, and stumbled, but he remained standing. With contempt he grabbed her, and slammed her down on the ground three times, lifting her up for a fourth time. The sky seemed to get closer for a second, before falling away. Rio fell to the ground, and Atsushi looked in the eyes of Souji.
"I'm going to take you down." Souji growled, low, animal-like.
With each passing second his opponents got more aggressive, their strength increased, their ferocity increased, and they increased the tempo every single chance they got. Atsushi found a rhythm in the chaos, throwing Isamu and Isami, slamming Souji head first off of a rock or tree, sending one of their comrades flying or -he cosending four flying at once.
They met him head on, and Atsushi allowed himself to smirk for a moment, enjoying the battle. He rarely got to cut loose, most of his foes would run. He slammed his hand against Isami's throat, fingers clenching hard as he heaved him up. Souji pressed ahead with a new urgency, but Atsushi's massive foot crashed against his chin, snapping his head back, and forcing his head to bounce off the ground.
"RAAAHHHHHHHH!"
The battle, long and brutal as it had proved, was the first time he'd been tested in a true life-or-death struggle. Even against the likes of Tajima, Daishiro, Butsuma, and many others-he always stood head and shoulders above them, literally, ad figuratively. For this reason, each time he slammed Souji or Isamu, each time he struck Rio down with his forearm, each time he jammed his forearm into Hiro's and Souji's necks-all of their necks, and slammed them into trees and boulders-he did it with the intent to kill.
Souji ran at Atsushi, pushing his chakra down and out, uncaring if he flared it or not. This was no time for restraint or control-he couldn't hold back against this man, and now he knew he'd have to take every single risk to defeat him. Killing Atsushi may not be possible.
He gasped, but smirked seeing Atsushi's eyes widened as they both fell back-he flew over Atsushi, his weight, plus the added momentum, carried him away like a child. He was left to slam into a tree, and fall to the ground, a sixty foot drop. Atsushi's descent was even less graceful, he rolled and tumbled, slamming his limbs into the ground to halt his movements, but it only served to increase his fall's speed.
Souji crashed head first, sprawling as he hit the ground and letting out a groan.
Atsushi hit the same area, spine first, the back of his head impacted, and he felt his ears explode. He still had enough in him to turn around, and slam his hand into the ground, pushing himself up the best he could. He let out a growl as Kosuke phased into sight a few feet behind him, sword angled for him. Saki and the others dived in, wounded and battered, but still raring for a fight.
Atsushi locked eyes with Souji, and there was a mutual understanding.
Or something of the sorts.