The fox-masked Hozuki kunoichi sent somewhat mixed signals. On one hand, she deactivated her signature version of the Hydrification Jutsu making her limbs return to normal and got out of her fighting stance. On the other, her body language did not appear all too crushed and ready to submit. Now more than any time in recent memory the Chinoike would have liked to see the woman's face.

"When exactly did I strike you as the type to get all worked up over some miserable loser who couldn't track his own hydration and got flunked by a trick as simple as raising the heat and applying pressure?" the kunoichi asked with an almost demeaning tone, however, the fact that she did not simply resume her task of killing the injured and kneeling Chinoike nearby told more than her bluff. Although, her hesitation to resume her murderous actions may have been due to the fact that she's realized her triumphant moment was now squandered. It certainly did appear from first glance that the Hozuki scolded herself a bit about that on the inside, judging from how erratic her twitches and small muscle ticks got.

"You're right, you're not the type to give up just to save your comrade's life." The winged swordsman of the Chinoike agreed. "However, consider your chances if this battle continues. What odds of survival do you have fighting four to one, in a patch of the valley sunken in heated gas that makes every use of Hydrification even more dangerous than it already is? You may be ruthless enough to sacrifice teammates as pawns but you are no fool, not in the sense you understand foolishness, anyway."

"Mizoma is going to kill you all. Even if all of you attack him at once, he will find a way to eliminate you all. He's the type of guy to do something like that." The Hozuki kunoichi warned the Chinoike.

"I doubt it." The cloaked Chinoike replied, his arm turned to a bloody appendage once more and the large spike in the center of his palm protruded out. It was a mean of threatening the woman to not try anything foolish. "He is not here right now, is he? That means either that he's found more of a challenge in the three of us he has engaged, which means he will in no way slay all of the Chinoike, or that one of the mysterious helpers has also joined the fight against him. In that case, the miraculous genocide you're speaking of is even less likely as even more ninja have joined the fray and they're not on your murderous side."

"It is clear that we will not reach common ground here. Go, join your superior and hope that your hatred gives you remotely enough will to carry this through. In my experience, however, the will to survive is always stronger." The Chinoike swordsman placed his blade back into its odd zip-up sheath and threw it over his shoulder, appearing almost as if he was carrying an entire contrabass around on his rear.

"Oh, I am going nowhere near that man. He will kill me the moment he hears that we failed to beat you." The fox-mask lady spoke in a tone suggesting that the mocking noises coming from under her mask were cackles.

"And your clan? Won't you find yourself in a similar situation as us if you return them and admit your own failure?" the cloaked Chinoike wondered. At this point, the feeling of imminent threat to his life has left the man's worry. It was now just mere curiosity that guided his tongue and thoughts.

"The Hozuki are more… Adaptable. Although nowhere near enough to stop wishing you death. You're like a stain of death on their fancy, silken dress. Eventually, they'll find bleach good enough to wipe you clean." Letting her words linger for a while in the stuffy and scorching air, the Hozuki kunoichi flowed away as a stream of water, splitting apart into multiple ridges and underground crevices. Somehow managing to maintain her liquid shape of water even in the face-melting temperatures that reminded the locals of a holiday on the Sun.

Chitsu jumped on his feet, stumbling forward and utilizing the hate in his chest to carry his massive, still armored frame forward. Bit by bit, the armored plates of the Chinoike collapsed, letting go of even the strongest strands of flesh tissue keeping them together and stuck on their owner's body. The gelatinous blobs of white and red clots revealed themselves once the Chinoike brawler lost his infernal armor look.

"Don't bother chasing after her. It's miraculous she even let you off with your life." The cloaked Chinoike taunted his less-composed comrade which may have not been the right choice for an approach.

"I could have taken her, we could have killed her! Now they'll just someone else!" Chitsu grumbled, although due to his worn eyes threatening to shut on him and his skin paling evermore with each splat of blood he forced out through the filters of the spontaneous clots he donned, the shinobi submitted to the natural draw that the ground exhibited for the weary.

"They'll send someone else regardless of she survives or not." Erumo's voice echoed through the wastes shortly before the young woman leaped out from underground. The Chinoike stared at her for a while, figuring what to do with her, given the cautious stance of the young kunoichi. It was not that she was looking for a fight with her body language, however, she did not leave herself too open either. The careful response was the most likely when someone one did not know chose to be cautious around you.

"Our assistance is right." The Chinoike swordsman closed his eyes in submissive agreement. "There are far too many reasons why letting that woman go and choosing to regroup elsewhere is a good idea. Thanks for helping us, this would have turned far more bloody and cost us much more lives had it not been for your trick with the natural gas."

Erumo dangled a small sack in front of her face before removing a handful of swamp-green powder from it. "Nothing natural about it…" she added. She chose to leave out the part where letting the Chinoike get bullied around and possibly having one or two of them get killed was a part of her initial plan. It was just that she doubted her chances to salvage the fight given the skill and experience of her opponents, she took the opportunity when it presented itself, initial plans be damned…

"Yochi…" the covered up Blood Lagoon member with the massive scythe uttered as the only acknowledgment of her comrade that had just been forcefully passed away in front of the group and expression of her grief.

"It will be difficult without his illusions. Maybe we should regroup and meet up with Chiya and Chison?" the feminine-looking man in a frilly undershirt wondered out loud, appearing to be more worked up over the optimal way of moving with the fight rather than the passing of his comrade.

"It's okay though, right? You guys can turn to water just like the Hozuki so he'll just reform, right?" Kouta turned his attention away from the advancing and unstoppable threat in front and at the Blood Lagoon ninja. The nervousness in his voice and the twitching facial muscles betrayed it that the young man did not believe himself what he was looking to buy.

"If he had activated his Sanguination Jutsu, he'd have already dispersed into blood." The woman previously referred to as Utaretta, who appeared to be of the highest standing amongst the Blood Lagoon ninja who were fighting Mizoma replied. "Given how nothing of the sort has happened… I think that Yochi is gone for good."

Kouta tried to rationalize why the toddler-man would not have used the unique version of the Hydrification Jutsu that all of the Blood Lagoon shared together. Maybe Yochi's chakra network was still engaged in his genjutsu, too much so to activate another signature clan technique in a split-instant it took Mizoma to separate his massive head from the dwarf's shoulders, perhaps he was just distracted by his own technique and lacked the concentration needed to use it, maybe he did not manage to activate the technique in time… Whatever the reason, it did not matter.

Only the metallic clangs and thuds that signaled the approaching, absolute death behind Mizoma of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist mattered.

"Hey, don't get any bright ideas, kid!" the Lolita-styled teen with a flair for leather straps yelled out at Kouta who must have allowed his body language to betray the desperation he felt inside. "He'll kill you in an instant if you split off of the formation and attack all by yourself! Omochi, hold him off while Utaretta-san recovers!"

"Tendrils of Blood!" Omochi, the androgynous man of the Blood Lagoon, extended his hands forward, streams of water burst from underground that soon turned to a crimson liquid of white foams and lunged at the enemy like whips.

The crack of the Blood Tendril smacked Mizoma straight in the chest, the Swordsman of the Mist barked out in pain but his voice only further served to drive fear into the hearts of those that stood to oppose the spectral one for his was not the voice that betrayed his pain but his fury instead. With a side of his gauntlet, leaving only one hand to tend to his clearly meant for two hands sword, the Swordsman of the Mist smacked aside the other tendril aiming to cave more of his armor in while he swung his sword again and split the third tendril almost with ease.

"Blood Rush!" the Blood Lagoon member who appeared to specialize in a more long-range ninjutsu use of the signature Blood Lagoon abilities yelled out as he jumped forward allowing his body to turn to a wave of blood in mid-air, almost like the normal use of the Sanguination Jutsu, except needing to take no damage for his blood-body to dissolve into a pool.

Mizoma charged forward, his shoulder put up in a tackling motion and thusly he met his opponent's charge and all the force of the rushing tide. Except for getting soaked in the liquid that the Blood Lagoon utilized in battle, the Swordsman of the Mist took no damage from the technique that left marks on his body of any sort. That was two ninjutsu techniques that the threatening lantern-head shrugged off already. And yet he continued to walk forward.

Bubbles of white foam rose from the accumulated pools of blood and upon their eruption set free a voice imprisoned inside. It was a way for Omochi to speak while in his sanguinated state. The escaping wails testified the name of the technique that the Blood Lagoon used though, because of the distance and the chaos of battle, Kouta could not quite hear it. The pool of blood gathered from the wave-like charge used previously by the Blood Lagoon member came alive with multiple waves, jets, and tendrils of blood rushing out of its surface, whipping, attempting to restrain, cut or seep inside Mizoma's body and choke the walking man out.

With an outraged roar, Mizoma's body turned to a towering whirlpool that utterly washed away the crimson corruption attempting to, if not kill him, or hurt him at all for that matter, to waste his time. Once it reached the optimal altitude, the whirlpool then turned back to its normal shape, that of the rotating Swordsman of the Mist, his sword in one hand and raging waters showering out from inside his lantern-shaped helmet and getting formed and split about by the dance of his blade.

A blood-curdling scream followed by the similarly affecting sight of Omochi blasting out of the chaos of blood and water storming at each other met the terrified eyes of the observing Blood Lagoon members.

"How did you guys hold this monster off for so long!?" Kouta turned back at Utaretta in frustration at how fruitless any techniques thrown at the Swordsman of the Mist have proven themselves so far.

"We were lucky to avoid having him use his sword." The dark-haired woman closed her penetrating gazing orbs and sighed. She was ashamed to admit that was the only reason, but it may have been the genuine truth. "A swordsman with a blade as legendary as that of Mizoma's tends to not use his sword all that much out of fear that the enemy might lay their hands on it and turn its might against him."

"You mean…" Kouta uttered.

"That's right. If I had to gamble the lives of my precious brothers and sisters, I'd say that Mizoma's sword has an ability that just about anybody can use, as long as that sword is in their hands. Good luck taking it away from him, though." The woman laughed in the face of the desperately approaching end to her and the eradication of her entire family and her supporters.

Mizoma looked away at the downed Blood Lagoon member with disdain. Even if it was impossible to tell from the obscured depths of inside the specter's helmet, the furious beacons gleaming out from where Mizoma's eyes should have been suggested that the red-seeing Swordsman of the Mist was considering walking up to the downed Blood Lagoon and finishing him off.

"I can stand by myself, it's fine, go." Utaretta encouraged the overdressed Blood Lagoon lady and Kouta while they looked at each other as if questioning if the other was prepared to bring the fight to the approaching threat. Neither one of them felt too excited about standing around and waiting for the swordsman to just walk up to them again and lob their heads off as he had done to Yochi.

Kouta's feet blasted out chakra streams that helped him propel his body faster, he even matched the swiftness of his Blood Lagoon partner-in-assault. The leathery Blood Lagoon kunoichi threw her feet downward, her feet appeared to kick off of a peculiar pocket of compressed air, allowing the scythe-wielding ninja to jump again without having to touch anything solid with her feet. The airborne scythe-user flipped forward, performing an airborne roll while the blade of her scythe buzzed in a vertical angle – a valiant effort to shred one's opponent up.

Mizoma coughed up in a low-pitched grumble while the scythe of the Blood Lagoon woman flared up with sparks while it bounced off of the man's armor. A small squirt of blood coming out from Mizoma's shoulder and dyeing the front of his chest in red, to contrast its natural blackness, signaled that a moderate amount of success was achieved by the pair exploiting the moment of their opponent's distraction.

"You mongrel!" Mizoma roared out as he swung his two-handed sword at the young woman shortly after her heels had landed on the floor. It was not difficult to see that her long boots that easily stretched from her heel to her knee provided ample discomfort for the Blood Lagoon kunoichi as well as slowed her down while fighting.

A thunderous crack followed by a fearsome shockwave interrupted the lethal intentions of the Swordsman of the Mist. Kouta's face was twisted with rage as he packed his strongest flying right hook at the man's helmet, fully intending to either bust it or dig and scoop inside it until he reached the ringer inside. Kouta's reckless attack was rewarded as his hook threw his opponent's head aside as well as turned it the other way, the momentum of his sword swing was almost non-existent.

A blood-curdling scream kicked the fighting fury right out of Kouta's chest the very moment it was about to take over from the panic. Shocked, the young man landed on his feet and turned at his comrade to check on her condition instead of continuing his combination as he had intended. Not only did Mizoma absolutely dominate all of their combined efforts but Kouta just couldn't summon his game-fire out no matter what. It was just like his father said… He had too many distractions…

The clad in leather young woman laid sprawled out on her front with a diagonal carving right on her back. She couldn't have expected that strike which was likely why she didn't sanguinate out of it. Kouta would have made the same mistake in her shoes but… Why did she get hit? Mizoma's sword was thrown off-course, he saw it, he made it happen! How could they ever hope to take the sword away from this immovable monster if the damned steak-cutter continued to surprise them at every turn?

Kouta turned back to try and swing his fists at the enemy. It was mad, it made no logical sense for him to remain at that range, so close to what amounted as his doom and continue to stand his ground but it was that same recklessness that summoned the greatest strength in his father. It was what created the worst raging monster known in the Ninja World. It was that same behavior that allowed a Juugo to dance with partners they otherwise would have had no business dancing with.

Kouta's fists were like automatons, striking and winding back up like bolts of lightning but moving much faster than that. He did damage, he could see his opponent stumbling, he could see Mizoma fall to one knee even, leaving Kouta almost the man's equal in size. The Juugo did not stop, he hopped on top of the man and planted his feet firmly as if he was scaling a mountain, one of his hands gripped the steel wire tying the armor plates on Mizoma's chest together and held the man tightly while his left went to work. Up and down, up and down.

Everything around went black. Kouta couldn't feel, hear or see anything else but his own fists and the warm dampness that they entered and left. He continued to swing and would have continued to do so until he either died of his own heart giving in on him or the airways of his enemy were crushed to the point where breathing became impossible. The Juugo felt warm corruption crawl over his face, like miniature tongues of flame but he enjoyed the pain they caused. His chakra began feeling different, colder, much colder and too dark for even him to see a damn thing from inside its embrace and yet…

It was like layers of eternal snow – cold when one tasted it, yet when one was buried under loads and loads of it, it felt right, it felt warm, it felt… Strong!