The room was smoke and mirrors. She couldn't see very clearly. And they all liked it that way. The White Skin sat in an ornate chair in the eye of the fog tornado. The black hair floated above it and the serpentine yellow eyes just below that, gleaming. But the rest of the face was abstract shadow. Shifting and sliding endlessly. Especially the sharp cut lip which kept opening up and inviting her in. And telling her the only words she could understand, which were commands. An assignment. Divide them. Strike them down one by one by any means necessary, starting with the Jounin and the strongest one at that. So, she set out for the village. And it began. Or was finished. Whichever way you wanted to look at it.