On the Darkest Nights/ Reunion

Before we begin here lies fair warning for the weak heart. Tears may be shed, and minds may be fucked. Aside from one's mind, stomach too will be of concern. If you cannot find strength in your belly, please allow your eyes to wander. Leave at once. This is a proper warning.


And so it was, as those eyelids shifted to a close in the dark, that indiscernible illusion began. Was is real, and what is not? Genjutsu or Reality("To be or not to be..." and all that Jazz.)? If it be an illusion of the night, then be it one brought about by sleepless nights, or be it the cause of an adolescent Uchiha's insomnia? Then again, if tonight's false perception of reality was brought about by an uncanny distortion of his natural senses, sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell, the traditional five, then could it be categorized as a dream, or nightmare. Only time would tell. It might as well have been a dream, for as Kenzo's eyes opened, he was a man again in full. If it was a nightmare could easily be killed upon awakening, but death makes it's presence known solely during the period which it is unexpected. Kenzo knew this all too well. But to find out the truth about how dreams die, one should never take the word of the dreamer. Let us begin...


Should this have been a dream, lavish material goods and other possessions would lie at Kenzo's feet. This was not the case. In this dream, in this new world, life was twisted in such a way that Kenzo would not have been able to keep face. But this hallucination was the reality presented to him, and with that reality came memories of a new days. Laid waste be memories once held, for they be replaced with the life of a peasant; a sad peasant, one without food or water of his own. Kenzo was not one of a kind, for as he turned his head left to right and back, he noticed that he was surrounded by those living in poverty. A memory shot through his head, it was the memory of the moment he had first met that girl when he was younger... 

Kenzo could be seen resting upon the corner of a roof of a small building. His small legs dangled over the edge as sat there, his hands placed in his lap. This remembered clearly. How could he ever forget, for as he sat atop that building he noticed a pregnant little girl. Her belly was well extended past her sagging breast. He had not noticed it at the time, but her mind was elsewhere. Unlike the little girl from his memories of reality, Kenzo had not lost his mind.Compared to how she spent her days; her tendril, sap-green days in Konoha, endlessly pacing in the streets of Konohagakure, hoping that, if even for a moment, she could have food and a place to stay, Kenzo's current days could be considered wonderful. Her head twitched left and right as she listened to melody produced by a musician so distant within her mind that only she could hear. The view of a girl so young having been so poor could have caused the eyes of anyone who held onto their humanity during such a rough time. Grown people looked away from her; children, the brave ones, who could not fear such a weak unfortunate being, pointed at her and laughed outright.


Then Kenzo remembered his first thought when he had seen her.


She should have became a ninja.


Kenzo, when he was younger believed that she would her life would have been be better if she toke advantage of Konoha's academy. Only now in his old age had he realized that-that assumption was completely ignorant. As a child, he had not realized that the direction of the girls life was out of her hands. He shook his head, turning away from the pitiful pregnant little girl, and looked in the opposite direction, just as everyone else did, yet he had the nerve to judge them. He disregarded that the young girl needed a home, and probably a friend. Now he was just like her, alone, poor, and a complete mess. He remained is the same place he had all day, just as he had when he was younger, and the streets, that were once crowded became empty. As a child, he had believed that the stronger he got, the more money he would get, but look at him now. Currency was the single factor that distanced his lifestyle from hers, and with it, hecould never be poor. That was assumed, and that assumption had done all, but been correct.

...but Kenzo had been living the very life he sought to avoid, even after years of training and a long life; even after endless missions, and countless victories, he had failed at life His heart now was broken. He had still, somehow, managed to retain his own sanity over all these years, unlike that small girl. It was not without pain that he grew to be as strong as he is now, so that broken heart had little effect. He dismissed the pain, replacing sadness with anger, substituting despair for ambition. Still deep into his thoughts, Kenzo again remembered that girl... the one who stood alone in the night. She gave chase to him one night, and he remembered that night clearly...

On that day Kenzo had finished battling his brother, Kenshin. The two had combated in Ninjutsu, Taijutsu, and Bukijutsu, but Kenzo was the victor. A battle between two such as Kenshin and Kenzo would have been expected to be nothing more than a small bout, but even the gods had been forced to cry after witnessing the blood, sweat, and tears shed in their battle. Kenzo's body had been pushed to it's very limits; only after he began to limp home had Kenzo noticed. Kenzo remembered it all. The feeling of loneliness and solitude that was bred from the dark of night, and the innate ability to suppress any, and all emotions except anger in public; the feeling of loneliness and separation was probably the exact same thing that girl had felt, but the weakness seemed to be a strength for Kenzo at the time. Even as his legs struggled to carry his upper body through the heavy puddles of Konoha, the independence birth from solitude had been pumping through Kenzo's body, pushing him to move forward. He loved the sore feeling in his muscles; the pain that crippled him, causing him to stumble forward before bracing himself on the side of a building without the help of his hands. He simply leaned on the building, allowing all of his weight to momentarily be pressed against the wood, It was so cold, and the feeling of the wet rain on his face didn't help at all. The night held true to it's element as Kenzo's vision was clouded by pure unadulterated darkness. What went on in those shadows Kenzo did not know, but he could hear the moaning of women, and the groaning of men. He dismissed that sound however, after shifting his weight till he was once again on both feet, onward Kenzo stepped, slowly, but his progression was steady. He could even see the door to his home. It appeared to be so far, yet it was only steps away. 

"P-p-p..."

There she was again, that little girl, though still taller than Kenzo, with extremely long scrawny arms was peeking around a corner watching him. Water drenched her black hair, spreading it across her face as it clung to her pale skin in such a fashion that made her appear more insane that she really was. He continued to step towards his home as he watched her. He had seen her before- before the baby that was once within her belly had came too soon and died. Even after all this time, she was still so sad to see. Kenzo stared at her. He tried to see her without looking at her, and never, never went near. Not because she was absurd, or repulsive, or because he was frightened, but because Mama had warned him about strangers who looked crazy. Most of the time, the lone traveler had no idea what the crazies were capable of, and Kenzo knew well the propensity that the shadow dwellers had for assaulting those unfortunate enough to have been traveling alone.
 
"P-p- Pretty? Aren't I?"


Kenzo remembered how the girl looked around suspiciously to check for anyone else in the area. He remembered the sound of the squaking crws that should've been his cue to get the hell out of there. He remembered looking into those dead eyes of hers, and questioning whether or not she atill had a soul. Then, he shook his head again. That was the second time he had judged her. Her life had been worn away to merely picking, and plucking away at whatever resources she could find among all the waste and beauty in this world-which is exactly what she herself was... wasted beauty. Suddenly Kenzo felt connected  All of his waste which was dumped on her she absorbed. And all of his beauty, which was hers first and she gave to him. He felt wholesome after seeing her. He was so beautiful when he stood astride her ugliness. Her simplicity decorated him, her guilt sanctified him, her pain made him glow with health, even as he limped towards his home, her awkwardness made him think he had a sense of humor, so he chuckled. Her inarticulateness made him believe he was eloquent. Her poverty keep him generous. Even her waking dreams he used -- to silence his own nightmares. And she let him, and thereby deserved his contempt. He honed his ego on her, padded his character with her frailty, and yawned in the fantasy of his strength.


But fantasy it was, for he was not strong, only aggressive; he was not free, merely licensed; he was not compassionate, merely polite; not good, but well behaved. He could do no more than court death in order to call himself brave, and hid like a thief from life. He substituted good grammar for intellect; switched habits to simulate maturity and intelligence; he rearranged lies and called it truth, see the new pattern of an old idea the Revelation and the Word. His thoughts, however, had been interrupted she the woman stepped over into madness, a madness that protected her simply because it bored him in the end. But it was not the end. The indifference in his eyes, and the mirth carried in his laughter only served to surface the animosity she had kept submerged within herself, and redirected that hatred from whatever/whomever she had beef with, and redirected it towards the young Uchiha known as Kenzo. He was so small, and so innocent. This made him an easy prey. He even looked to be weak by the way he limped forward! How dare he make a mockery out of her!!!

"M-me no pretty?"

"Me no pretty pretty.. den... ME H-H-HUNGRY!"

He remembered suddenly being attacked by the girl as she crawled towards him on all-fours, but most of all he remembered the thoughts that were running though his mind.

Faster! Faster! 

He commanded himself in his mind, but he did not move any faster. With a final hasty limp he made it inside. He slammed the door shut behind himself, but her dainty fingers had blocked the door from shutting. Kenzo cringed at the sound of the brittle bone shattering. Blood dripped from her fingertips. Blood rolled down the crack of the door as it slowly opened to reveal her face to Kenzo once more. Those bloody fingers were soon retracted as she began to cry, but Kenzo forced the door shut. He remembered his heart was pounding within his chest, and even though he knew she was still out there, he did not try to help her, or to feed her. She wasn't going to get through their door, for Kenzo had developed a false belief that her luck would rub off on him if he allowed this. Upon catching his breath, Kenzo climbed the stairs leading to his room, and stepped behind the soon closed door, locking it as he did. He could still hear the girl outside crying. Oh the irony...


...T'was a sad blast from the past, which is why Kenzo had given all his time to giving to the poor. Tents surrounded Kenzo on all sides, for he was on a military base. This wasn't a base where futuristic weapons were kept, but it was Konoha, only smaller. The village had been attack, and destroyed numerous time by an unknown enemy. This base was a small base within Konoha where men of all backgrounds came together to fight against the enemy. These men had willingly given into the cause... protecting Konohagakure at all cost. This base survived for years, which is why children inhabited the land. Before Kenzo were children of all colors and races: Uchiha, Hyuga, Senju, Inuzuka, Nara, Yamanaka, and more. They all rubbed their bellies in pain, for they were each as starved as the last. They had no food, water, or extra clothing. That is why their bodies were covered in layers of tattered shirts, shorts, pants and jackets; where one garment could not cover the other could reach. Kenzo was dressed just like those children. There were some men who had manage to keep their wealth, and could afford beautiful armor, but not Kenzo. Kenzo was poor just like the majority.


Suddenly, two men dressed in the same shredded pieces of clothing as Kenzo were within his view. Without a word, Kenzo rose to a stand, and retreated into a tent, resurfacing once more with a bloody chuck of flesh in his hand. His body had splashes of blood all over it, but this was not his blood. The distinct odor of rotting flesh seeped from his tent, and lingered on his body. Kenzo handed the bloody chunk of meat to one of the men, and said,

"Do not speak of this."


With a slight, yet shaky nod of his head, the thin man who was now holding the heart toke off running through he remains of the village. Kenzo then turned his head to the remaining man who said, 


"Is there some for me?"


Kenzo looked left then right before he spoke, 

"Come inside... quickly."

The man rushed inside the tent, and Kenzo entered behind him. Inside that tent was the slaughtered head of a rather large animal; it's body had obviously been butchered as the guts and organs were laid out along a crimson stained table. The black coat of the animal could be seen tosses aside in a bloody corner. 

"I can spare no more than this so don't fucking ask."


Kenzo tossed a slab of meat to the man, and suddenly another voice could be heard coming from the entrance of Kenzo's Tent. The voice was quite loud, and the sound would likely leave the confines of Kenzo's tent.


"You killed an animal, and did not report in?"



This business, Kenzo's business was a discreet one.


"Lower fucking voice... it was gravely wounded in battle."


It was then that the man's eyebrows raised even further.


"In battle... You killed a summon?"


Kenzo nodded his head, picking up an 8 inch blade and gripping the flesh of the animal. He shaved off a two inch piece of flesh from the meaty corpse, and tossed it into a large bucket that was filled with other slabs of bloody meat. Kenzo focus was completely on the meat. He did not look up to the armor man, for if he did, then Kenzo might find his own severed finger laying upon the dirt floor.


"Will not bother the shadow of the people if slab meat went missing from his table."


It was then that the armored man's facial expression changed. By looking upon his face, one could guess at first glance that he had been angered by someone, or something. By listening to deepened tone and command of his coming voice, that assumption would be confirmed,


"Who gave permission? A man atop a summon in battle is more effective than on foot."

The armored man's tone, and order did not go unnoticed. Kenzo looked up to view the man's face. The man's face was clean, and lacked the same indication's of stress that Kenzo had. Kenzo's eyes were widened as he inspected this man's body. Armor of such quality and beauty would cost Kenzo every one of his limbs. The armored man's eye continued to shift across the bloody floor, observing the gore, guts, and bones that were hidden beneath intestines that hung from the table. Kenzo looked down, as he always had when a higher official spoke to him, it was obvious to Kenzo now that this man was of importance. Kenzo continued to butcher the flesh, tossing meat into the bucket until it was filled.


"Like I said, it's time left upon this earth was short. I would've sought permission from the great man upon the hill, but..."


Kenzo paused, grunting as he pulled at the tough flesh, and ripped it from it's body. That too was tossed into the bucket.



"...King Navi is far too busy waging war to bother with such low concerns."


This Kenzo believed to be the reason why the people, including himself, were so poor. Kenzo did not question Navi, but he wished that this man would stop questioning him. If Navi had not the time to tend to his people's needs, then Kenzo hoped that ware results would be a complete success. Why should they fail? The soldiers were all clad in outrageously beautiful armor such as this one. Any who were not soldiers lived in poverty, and soldier were hand selected. Only the biggest, strongest looking men were chosen, and Kenzo was not one of the men. His appearance was quite deceiving. 


"What moves you to such thoughts?"


This question made completely lose his train of thought, for it was a "no-brainer". Kenzo looked up to the shinobi, and almost laughed; a mere snicker cut pass his dirt-stained pink lips before he gathered himself, looking into the eyes of the massive man who stood before him.


"Open fucking eyes; you'll have you answer."

After rising to a stand in his blood-stained garbs, Kenzo extended his arms to his sides, welcoming the armor-clad warrior to widen his scopes, and swivel his dome to view all that was before him. Kenzo's tent was created from his old clothing; stuff he could not longer fit. The yellow fabric that Kenzo wore no longer held a yellow discoloration. The shirt had been stained brown by dirt, then drenched in the red of the animal's blood. Blood, guts, and fur littered Kenzo's flooring, and flies had longer ago began to settle on the exposed insides of the animal, laying eggs within the carcass that the peasants would soon eat. If not the sight of it all, then the smell could have exposed the hard-life Kenzo lived; the odor present on Kenzo's body could have been compared to death, if not the cause of death, but even that seemed to be masked by the true vile odor death left behind. Shifting through the blood and guts of the carcass only allowed the smell of the animals fecal matter to spring from within. Kenzo had not been bothered by the scent as he had been sleeping next to the carcass for how many days now? The armored man was also unhindered by the scent, as this was not his first time experiencing the legacy of a rotting corpse. Kenzo set his blade on the table, and picked up a cloth which he wiped his hands on as if, wiping his hands on his shirt would be no better. After a moment of silence, Kenzo began to speak again. He could see that this man was actually listening to him. 

Kenzo's Shirt:

"I begin to question turning from the commonly ocean breeze, and... umm... 'safety' of my villages walls."


"You were a free man then?"


"Far from it... Now I toiled beneath the heel of an most unpleasant shithead, barely passing by, yet she at least provided for fucking needs."


Now Kenzo tossed the small fabric that he had wiped his hands on to the ground, and picked up the large bucket that carried many many slabs of bloody meat. The command in the man's voice radiated anger, causing Kenzo's attention to sudden snap onto the man along with his head.


"Did you expect freedom to come absent cost?!?"

Kenzo continued to speak as he carried that bucket out of his tent, and into the light were the children were playing.


"No, yet absent fucking plan to be... clothed or fed. We must take matters into our own hands, or risk early grave waiting for the..."


The pause between these word was no longer than a second, but as that armored man found Kenzo from within the darkness of the small tent, and into the light of day, what the man saw was absorbed in-full. Children were not playing. They were fighting. By the size of those kids they had to have been been between the ages of 4 and 8, for they did not even reach the man's hip. Not a single child had any kind of muscular structure either. They appeared to be no more that the living manifestation of skin and bone. They too were clothed in tatters. Kenzo held the bucket upside down, allowing the slabs of meat, the food he provided to them, to fall from the bucket to the ground below. The kids could finally eat. They immediately surrounded the uncooked flesh, grabbing it, and ripping it part with their hands before pacing a chuck within there mouths. 


"... bringer of fucking rain to 'bless' us with much needed shower."


Kenzo watched as the armored man fell to one knee. The man was watching the children. He probably felt some kind of pity for them. Kenzo enjoyed watching the man feel something for the children. It lessened the distance between himself and the man.


"The flesh will soon turn cold, and with it-"


"Navi!"


Kenzo's conversation with the armored man was interrupted by the deep tone of another man's voice who was calling out for the Hokage, Navi. That man was followed by a number of other men as well. He approached Kenzo and the other man. Before speaking to the armored man beside Kenzo.


"Navi, a group of shinobi approach from the north. We must take up our positions."


Kenzo looked to the man with wide-eyes now. Was what the man said true? Could this have really been Navi, the Hokage? There was no doubt about it. The armor and well-built body said it all. Kenzo looked to Navi, and shook his head swiftly. 


"I- I- I- You are Navi? Apologies. I-I-"


"Hold your tongue."


Navi said before turning to the group of armored men behind him.


"Make sure this man always has full belly and warm cloak."


He then turned to face Kenzo again and spoke proudly,


"While I draw breath you have freedom to speak your heart... Even against the great man upon the hill."


Then, after a short smile, Navi's figure blurred out of view. The men slowly approached Kenzo and shook their heads, grimacing as they looked at him. He recognized that look in their eyes. It was the same look he had been sending the homeless little girl every time he saw her. He was now in her position. His life had been worn away to merely picking, and plucking away at whatever resources she could find among all the waste and beauty in this world, for all that was left behind for a peasant such as himself would be the waste of others. If Kenzo had never felt more connected before, then now he had created a perfect link between himself, and that female. All of his waste which was dumped on her she absorbed, and now that had come back to haunt him. All of his beauty, which was hers first and she gave to him, was taken back; he no longer has beautiful hair, though it had still retained it's black color over all these years. He had once felt wholesome after seeing her, but now the men before him were the ones who were whole. Kenzo felt that something was missing. He felt empty. He was so beautiful when he stood astride her ugliness, but now the beauty of these warriors highlighted itself as they beside his. His simplicity decorated them, his guilt sanctified them, his pain made them glow with health, even as they stood before him, judging him with those cold eyes, his awkwardness made them think they had a sense of humor. Every bad quality he had was brought to light, and the embarrassment had returned to him with all the pain, if not more, than she had felt as he had judged her. His inarticulateness made them believe they were eloquent. His clumsiness made the other men believe they were graceful. His poverty kept them rich and lavish. Even her waking dreams he used -- to silence his own nightmares. And she let him, and thereby deserved his contempt. He showed her not an once of empathy on that day, and on this day those men showed him less. They laughed in his face, and, once they were sure of Navi's absence, spat at his feet. Then they circled his body, their eyes scanning his figure as those analyzing every aspect of his persona. They honed their ego on him, padded their character with his frailty, and yawned in the fantasy of their strength! Kenzo once held the same false belief that he was strong. A belief that he was better than all other's. He had finally matured, however, and mind became absent of said thoughts. It toke for him to fully experience pain and suffering to understand. Now he understood, but though men did not. He could see, as those armored predators had chosen him as their prey. Little did they know that Kenzo was not the average bum, unless one had labeled him such for his tattered clothing and lack of foot wear. Even then, this simpleton was not one to be fucked with. He had the height of a teenager, the tongue of a sailor, and the mind of a shinobi. Just as those men watched him, Kenzo watched the men, though his head never turned. Each time a man passed his front his eyes would scan their bodies, immediately noticing that their bodies were not covered completely in armor like the last. These men had their chests covered by a chest-plate, yet their arms and legs were exposed completely. As was their heads. Kenzo wondered what they would do next. His arms, that once hung lifelessly at his sides began to flex slightly. Then they began to speak.

"You scent is as revolting as your sight. I wonder why Navi is so interested in you."


"Maybe Navi will have him come wash our clothes, and wipe our piss from the floor."


Kenzo would've been confused, but these assholes weren't the first to tempt his anger. He stood there in silence, never once insulting or even speaking to these barbarians. He did not have to reply for them to speak, however. They spoke anyway.

"Would you like to tell us?"


"He can't, he's too busy eating shit to speak. Look! He's even feeding the children the muck. You sick fuck."

They laughed, and laughed hard. Kenzo hadn't noticed this before, but those men were both equipped with short blades. The blades were sheathed, and attached at the hips of both men. He expected for their right hand to be the cominant hand since each blade was attached at their right hips. His eyebrows began to arch as his eyes ceased following the movements of the men. He look straight ahead, stared at the blue sky that could be seen in the distance. The sound of such ignorant laughter only served to irritate Kenzo. This was obvious, and not even he had noticed the contortions of his face. His anger was not expressed in full by the lines draw upon his forehead. His eye brows had been raised as high as they could get. Not even the look on his face made the men stop. Actually, the fact that their words influenced a reaction seemed to fuel those cold hearts, so they could not help but to insult him again.


"Haha! Tell me, how does it taste? The shit, how does it taste?"


Kenzo allowed the men to indulge it the mirth of the moment; not because they were taller than him, which they were; not because they held a high-ranking position in Konoha's military, which they did; not because they were stronger than he was; but because he now had every intention of wiping that predatory smirk from the mens' lips. Kenzo's raised a hand to his cover his mouth, and blew his hot breath into his hand. He could smell the vile stench of old, rotten corpse meat lingering on his tongue; an odor that nearly brought tears to his dark eyes. He lowered his hand from his mouth, revealing the grimace that had taken refuge on his face the moment the odor had burned his nose hairs, and that look of disgust lingered on his face. Upon seeing this, both the men ceased their strides, and stood before Kenzo about 2 meters away from his current position. They laughed even harder now, so much that their breath, even from such a distance, had manage to hit Kenzo in the face with all the kick of a bucking horse. This made Kenzo's neck retract, and his shoulders raise. The men only laughed harder. One man began stepping forward, his feet patting against the cold, hard ground; he stopped only after reaching a distance of no more than 4 feet away from Kenzo. He then extended his arm, grabbing Kenzo my the shoulder as he laughed in Kenzo's face, and Kenzo kept his hand over his mouth at all times. The man forced himself to stop his laughter so that he could speak, and, after he had lowered his laughter to little more than a chuckle, he began to speak.


"I pity you. You live in heaps of shit, clothes in the same rags that you once wore as a chid, breathing air another day only to awaken to your fucked life. Killing yourself is probably a better option than living. I give you permission. Do it."

Kenzo had once believed that he held more strength, passion, goodness, and loyalty than any man. But fantasy it was, for he was not strong, only aggressive; he was not free, merely licensed; he was not compassionate, merely polite; not good, but well behaved. He, like the very men that stood before him, could do no more than court death in order to call himself brave, and hide like a thief from life; did he?. What did he do? He, like the men before him, substituted good grammar for intellect; switched habits to simulate maturity and intelligence; he rearranged lies and called it truth. The laughter of the men, however, had been interrupted as he, Kenzo, not the girl, who, so long ago, Kenzo had met, stepped over into madness, a madness that protected him simply because it bored them in the end. They ceased their laughter, but it was not the end. The indifference he once carried in his eyes he lacked, and the mirth carried in their laughter only served to surface the animosity he had kept submerged within himself at the world, and redirected that hatred from whatever/whomever he had beef with; directed it towards the men that stood before Kenzo. Kenzo. He was still so small, and so "innocent". This made him look an easy prey. An easy prey he was not, nor would he allow himself to be. How dare they make a mockery out of him! Kenzo raised his right arm, pushing aside the man's hand that rested on Kenzo's shoulder.



"Shame it is. Thought t'was my own dragon-fire spat, but even from a distance, you succeed in burning hairs from my nose. Even when bathed, clothed, and well-fed, the monkey still prefers to play in the dirt. You are pitiful. Go home."


Ah, so Kenzo's tongue did work? 


"If you have something to say, speak in plain tongue."


The man said as he closed the small distance between he and Kenzo. Kenzo's forehead reached the man's lips, but Kenzo never once tilted his head skyward to admit that the man was larger than he was. Kenzo faced forward, and shut his eyes as the man approached. Closing his eyes did not make the man disappear, for Kenzo could feel the man's breath upon his face. Kenzo could hear it too. Even lower was the man's voice that boomed in Kenzo's ear.


"Speak to your superior is such a fashion again, and be maimed. You are below me. You are scum. Be happy I acknowledged your presence."


Kenzo said nothing. He did not make any sudden moments either, but a shiver traveled from his neck, spreading down his spine until every inch of his body above his hips was vibrating violently. 


"As I thought. Now! Bow!"


That voice echoed in the air. All within a 10 meter radius heard the command clearly, and began to gather in a circle around Kenzo and the two shinobi in armor. Those who stood outside of range knew not exactly where the sound was coming from, but upon seeing others gathering around a single central poin they followed. That central point was Kenzo's position. Kenzo did nothing, but his lips parted to speak.


"I will not bow to you."


Those around gasped as Kenzo defied the orders of this man. This man was a man who needed to be seen as a superior. This man was a dangerous man. This man was one of the most dangerous kind of men. This man was a man with a title. 


"You dare defy an order from your superior! Then let this be an example, for ALL OF YOU!"


A wad of spit was launched towards Kenzo's cheek, and it hit it's mark without being blocked or slowed. The crowd was quiet. Kenzo, upon feeling the slimy moisture hit his face, did nothing, at least not at first. 


Now you have angered me...


These inaudible words echoed in Kenzo's mind as the thought was interrupted by the ringing vibrations of a blade swiftly being drawn. Kenzo's eyes opened to reveal his Sharingan to all who was near. What he saw, as his he granted himself vision once more, was the warrior and his empty sheath. The most important of all things Kenzo saw were the man's eyes. They were filled with a rage like no other, but so were Kenzo's. The man could see this. The blade had been drawn, and where was it? Located in the retracted hand of the raging warrior. With haste, Kenzo slammed his head forward, directly into the males jaw, drawing blood from the male's lip. The man staggered backwards, and at that moment Kenzo lifted his own right leg before extending it to meet the male's chest forcefully. Upon impact with the male's chest, the male lost both his footing, and his grip on the blade. The crowd moved out of the way at the man's body neared, then he hit the dirt. Kenzo toke two steps forward before kneeling, and picking up the blade. Then, he rose to a stand again. The man was helped to a stand by his partner, and, almost immediately the two came rushing towards Kenzo again, opening with a belligerent roar that would serve only to scare the people in the crowd. Kenzo's eyes bounced between the men, watching their every move. Those divide irides lead Kenzo forward as each of the men cocked their hands back. One man was preparing to launch an attack with a blade, and the other with his fists. Kenzo stepped forward as they neared, ducking beneath the blade and the punch as he dragged the blades edge against one of the male's breastplate and bicep. This was not a complete success however, for Kenzo was almost immediately greeted with a knee to his face. As one of the men roared, stepped back to grip his arm, Kenzo's entire forward momentum was redirected, and he fell on his back. The male with the blade wasted no time in bringing his blade down upon Kenzo's stomach, but that attempt was blocked by the flat of Kenzo's blade. The angle at which Kenzo held his blade made the attack glance towards the ground, and Kenzo rolled in the opposite direction, but, even as he did, the man holding the blade swung skyward, dragging the blade's edge across Kenzo's back and slinging the crimson drop of blood from his blade's edge towards the crowd in a single motion. It was at that moment that Kenzo too roared, but he rose. He rose not to his feet, but only to his knees before a boot met the side of his head. The other man seemed to have recovered already. Kenzo, however, had not, now he laid on the cold hard ground with blood leaking from the side of his head. Crimson stained his back. Even still, the two men were not finished, in fact, they were far from it. The injured weaponless man circled around Kenzo before bringing his boot down upon Kenzo's hand, forcing Kenzo to release the blade. Kenzo did. The maimed warrior then reached down to retrieve his weapon before he spoke. 


"You should not have pushed me this far, then, maybe, I would be able to let you live. Now you will die pointlessly. You failure."


As the man spoke, Kenzo did not remain on the ground. He rolled over, and rose to a knee. He was panting heavily, not from battle, but from having been beaten. Being a failure Kenzo might have been okay with, but to die a failure, for Kenzo, was unacceptable. The man lifted his blade with his one working arm, and brought it down with all the force, and might he could muster. At that moment Kenzo looked up, and brought his hands up to catch the blade between his clapping palms. The two men struggled against each others power, but, much like the man's strength, this was all an illusion brought about the moment their eyes made contact. This was Genjutsu.

Though the man had scene Kenzo maimed, and lying on the ground helpless, Kenzo was fine. Kenzo stood behind the man with his blade at the man's throat as he stared into the crowd with those Sharingan eyes. Navi's voice could be heard emanating from behind Kenzo.


"Break it up you two." 


They did, Kenzo dropped the blade, and deactivated his sharingan before spitting a slimy wad of mucus infested snot onto the face of the man trapped in the alternate reality. Then Kenzo kicked the man over, causing him to face face first into the blood-stained ground.


"He started it Kenzo said."


"You, come with me."

Sooner, or later, the man would awaken to find himself laid out, and covered in dirt, that is, if the villagers didn't get to him first. As the man struggled with reality, Kenzo and Navi were introduced. They had dinner, and for the first time in a long time Kenzo ate well, and slept in a warm bed. He was clothed, and he was grateful for all of it. His sleep was interrupted by the booming strike of lightning. This caused him to jump, and, 


Valitus’s eyes were wide with deranged excitement. Rain beat its steady rhythm upon Valitus’s body as he made his way through the poverty-filled streets of Konohagakure, muttering incessantly to himself all the while.


“You were right…”


He said as he ducked into an alleyway. This rain feels good. With not another kindred soul in sight, Valitus wasn't surprised when a Konohagakure passerby shot him a confused look, most likely wondering whom he was talking to. Valitus had to fight the urge to tear the villager's eyeballs from his cranium.


I don’t understand.

He told himself, his voice soothing. As to where he was heading, even he didn't know; he was merely going where his feet took him, relishing in the calming feel of the rain --- perhaps the only antidote, per se, for his textbook insanity.
Azrael let the cool rain splash on his outstretched tongue, taking enjoyment in the simple pleasure. Waltzing through the city streets, he began noticing the supple passersby. His tongue moved back and forth over his teeth excitement. Each one of them could make for a tasty dessert. The faint grin that made its way to his face caught the eye of quite a few villagers, only increasing the urge to gnaw the flesh from their cheeks. For now, though, he was content with walking in the rain. Azrael seemingly without purpose, or destination stopped quite abruptly.
Valitus murmured, his voice incredulous,

"What do you mean there are others?”


Valitus pivoted in one fluid motion, colorless eyes scanning the streets. In the distance he could make out the figure of a man cutting his way through the crowded streets; the villagers parted way as he walked as if some atavistic instinct within them told them that the man was trouble. Valitus cocked his head to the side, curiosity playing across his visage in the form a demonic grin.

“Oh.”


He said simply.

 “It is Him.”

 Valitus took off running, darting through the cluster of bodies; absentmindedly, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of Shio, the claymore latched securely to his hip. Seized with an inexorable need to confront this man, Valitus found himself standing before him within mere moments, and inevitably brining the sizable blade of Shio swinging in a gigantic arc that would behead the newest object of his curiosity, should the man not move.


Move? Of course he would move. Azrael ducked, without the slightest bit of motion beforehand, as if he had already known of the man’s presence before he swung his overcompensating sword at him. Once the mammoth blade had passed overhead, he regained his composure, reaching out with his right hand to strike the cheek of the odd man before him.


"You look... Mm... Tasty."

He muttered, intrigued by his newfound opponents figure. Tongue moving from cheek to cheek, his mouth became saturated with saliva. The excitement damn near brought a tear to his eye. Perhaps he had finally found another worthy of calling themselves his meal?


Valitus let out a raucous peal of laughter and distanced himself from the stranger with a backpedaling step.


“Oh. So, you weren't playing! He really is like me!”


He muttered as the rain in the vicinity began to converge upon his person, clustering and condensing into an orb that bobbed along precariously above his head. Then, raising his eyes to meet the crimson gaze of the madman he had approached, he declared:


“Disperse!”

Without warning, the orb burst apart, the water separating into three tendrils that snaked their way through the air at an impossibly rapid gait; each edge almost as sharp as a blade point, they wasted no time in tearing their way effortlessly through the body of many civilians. Relishing in the cacophony of screams that permeated through the crowd after this brutal yet masterful show of water-crafting, Valitus raised his claymore and then pointed the blade directly at the stranger.


“What is your name?”

He asked.


“He would like to know your name.”

Valitus screeched. The man raised a hand to his cheek, where the stranger had hit him; the region stung slightly, but Valitus still felt the inherent urge to jeer.


"You hit like a girl!”

With large blade in tow, Valitus advanced once more, his wiry arms showing a surprising amount of strength as he let loose a flurry of slashes from his weapon, trying quite vehemently to tear the man to shreds. All the while he was laughing, a sound so demonically harmonious that it sent shivers running along his spine. Every villager's head in the vicinity had swiveled, watching the exchange between the two.


Azrael curled his lips into what some would call a smirk.




"Why on earth would I try to tenderize your supple flesh any farther?"

He mused. As he spoke, his right hand lingered around the small sheath on his hip. Within this sheath lay the knife that he held dear. It was with this that he prepared his "meals". Once his apparent foe made his move, he did nothing more than bob and weave to survive the first few swings. However, his appetite was growing, and this could not be kept up much longer. This urge was... insatiable to say the least. Whilst his next course took the next swing, he dodged once more, only to back pedal a few feet. Once he was an acceptable distance away, he snatched the nearest pedestrian from where he stood and cut him from ear to ear with his blade. Crimson eyes flickered as his tongue made its way across the gaping wound of the stranger. This meal was far from delectable, but it would have to do for now. Returning his gaze to the real prize, he awaited whatever it was he had in his pretty little mind.
Valitus faltered momentarily in his advance, eyes widening in glee. He hadn't expected such a blatant act of sadism, but now that he saw it, he felt the need to top it. Attention momentarily diverted from the stranger, he swung his blade in a wide arc, and his chakra sparked to life in a sea foam green veil atop the surface of the blade.


''Shio."



Albeit Vatilus doubted he would even get the chance to respond, for every tendril of water that had torn through the guts of the Konohagakure villagers suddenly focused their movements on Azrael. Three aquatic tendrils darted through the air, their intent quite simple: just as easily as they had ended the lives of their previous prey, they would put an abrupt halt to the stranger's. And maybe, just maybe, there would be enough remains to sacrifice to 'Him.'


Azrael took in a deep breath; the stench permeating from the torrents of blood gave him... pleasure. His mouth had become filled with saliva at this point. The feast he could have, it would be glorious. Then, within a second, his thoughts of feast were ripped from his mind. Instead, it was filled with thoughts of survival. He couldn't let such an abundance of food go to waste because he died. No he could not allow that. In a flash of movement, the blade he had used to drain the civilian of his life was between his teeth, the crimson liquid dripping down his chin. Almost immediately, he ran forward towards the tendrils. As the tendrils neared him, he found himself dropping into an animalistic pose, utilizing all four limbs to rush beneath the tendrils. Of course, he couldn't escape unharmed. No. A single tendril tore through the upper portion his left arm. The pain only seemed to be like a whip to the back, increasing his will to push forward. Once he had made up the distance his form returned to 'normal'. Grasping the handle of his blade, he aimed to slip past the cumbersome sword of his foe and do to him exactly what he did to his last victim. The short blade of his knife poised to strike the man’s jugular should he not be careful. He could think of nothing else but how he would prepare this meal.
Valitus was no fool, nor was he an amateur in combat; and to add on to that list, he had an increased ability of perception due to 'Him.' Therefore, as he watched the stranger duck so eloquently under every single one of his tendrils, he knew it was time to abandon his playfulness. Head throbbing with the protests of his other half, he threw his claymore away from him mere moments before the stranger was upon him. His defense was a hastily-crafted one; with his body already out-of-position due to the relinquishing of his weapon, he couldn't effectively evade the attack, only block it: But with what? Begrudgingly, Valitus found himself raising his left hand to meet the stranger's blade, which embedded itself quite painfully into his palm. An arc of pain shot down Valitus's body and he made to tear himself away from the stranger. In doing so, he ripped quite a bit of flesh from his hand.

“Damn you!”

He snarled as he danced away, his tongue running along the bloodied flesh of his mangled hand. His vision pulsed red with an emotion that sported two heads: anger and pain. Vaguely, he registered that the world around him had taken on a surrealism, and it was only when 'His' voice echoed in his skull.

I've got this.


That he withdrew completely within himself. Valitus doubted his adversary would immediately notice the shift in personas, as it would only become evident some minute later when Valitus extended his right hand before him in a taunting manner, his eyes narrow and lit with controlled insanity.


“Die, nuisance!”


The man exclaimed as he brought chakra to his fingertips in the form of five, very dense bullets of water which shot off with the force of, well, bullets, aimed at Azreal's head.


"I told him that he would've done better to just let me take over the moment I sensed you. But of course, the idiot never listens. He always has to go and get himself hurt before he sees reason."


Valitus rolled his eyes as he watched his projectiles move.


"It's okay though. You'll be dead, soon, stranger."


Azrael let out a soft chuckle as his blade met the flesh of his opponent, the sight of fresh blood widening his eyes. With a bit of space between him and this menacing foe, he held the blood-soaked blade above his mouth. Gravity did the rest of the work, sending droplets of blood onto his tongue. The taste was magnificent. Well worth the wait. Licking every bit of blood from his lips, he watched the hand of this man raise. Nothing good could come from this, he was sure. Before the bullets came rocketing from the man’s hand, he had just enough time to utter the word:


"Shit…"

He muttered just before they reached his position. Luckily, this being a poor explanation of the incident, for Azrael, his arms had already been in the area, giving him enough time to shield his face. Of course, this wasn't enough to truly stop the bullets, but it did a good job in slowing them enough. It would seem as if this man wasn't the crack shot he may have thought he was. Only three of the five bullets made their way into his flesh. Two passed through his arms, effectively moving them off course as they nicked bones. The third hit its mark, passing by the defenses of Azrael without fail. However, it was not the fatal shot that this man had been hoping for. Instead, the water bullet made its way across Azrael's cheek, leaving a nice cut across it, and through his right ear. His ear wasn't too lucky. In the end, a chunk had been missing. The pain… Oh, the glorious pain! Is this what mortals felt when he took their lives? Dropping his arms to his sides, he took the time to finally reply to the question.


"Name's Azrael. I thought you'd like to know the name of the man who'll cause your demise. Seems that attack of yours didn't go so well. Perhaps you'd like to try again!"


He said as blood dripped from his newly open wounds. Streams of crimson liquid poured from his arms and face. It was a magnificent sight, indeed.
Valitus scoffed. Just who did this man this he was!? Was he really asinine enough to base the remainder of their fight off of one, hurried assault? Valitus shook his head, laughter shaking his rib cage.


"Azrael, eh? Well, Azrael, allow me to grace you with two bits of knowledge."


He said, his tone reflecting the smug smirk that he wore on his face. He raised his right index finger, as his left wasn't in any state to be raised.


"One: the name's Valitus, and two -"


He lifted his middle finger.


"You're quite misinformed. You won't, you can't cause my demise, because at the very moment you choose to venture out and walk these streets today, you sealed your fate. Perhaps the rain'll thank my presence when I grace it with your blood."


Valitus's smirk stretched into a grin, and he strolled over to a vendor's cart, taking a very large and very sharp knife from the rack. He knew that it would be foolish to continue combat with Shio; the large blade was too much to heft around when his opponent was obviously adept with something as small and nimble as a dagger. No matter. Valitus had used a dagger before, and he was almost as handy with it as he was with Shio. Gripping the knife securely in his right hand, he started forward once more, lengthening his stride by aide of chakra. He found himself before Azrael almost instantly, but did not strike; rather, he pivoted, and formed a half-kata around the hilt of the knife. Valitus's body exploded into water before he could even complete his rotation, and he appeared not to the right, left, or behind his opponent, but above. Grinning with glee, the deranged shinobi descended downwards upon his adversary, knifepoint held directly down so that, should his descent remain unimpeded, the blade would drive unhindered into Azrael's skull.
Azrael replied, almost immediately, to the lengthy speech from his adversary.


"Valitus, eh?"


He said, mimicking the tone from his foe.


"You talk too damn much. You should just die so I can enjoy my meal before you get too beaten."


He watched as the strange man grabbed a knife from the nearby vendor. This intrigued him. Oh yes, this would be fun. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed his blade into the air, allowing it to perform a full rotation before catching it. With his opponent charging, Azrael got into the first real 'defensive' state he had taken during this scuffle. As soon as the visage of his Vali-whatever-his-name-is burst into water, his instinct was to guard his face, protecting his eyes from the torrent of water. With his eye unaffected by the water, he was free to flit them back and forth, searching for the man. When he didn't see him to his left or right, he took action. With his right foot, he kicked off, pivoting on his left in a clockwise motion. If he wasn’t to his left or right, the only other option in Azrael's mind was behind. Unbeknownst to him, his opponent wasn't there either. The movement wasn't a total loss, however. Even if he couldn't counter where he expected the man to be, at least he managed to move himself from harm’s way. Even if it was inadvertent. The downside to this random avoidance: he left his back turned for a moment...
Valitus's eyes flashed as he came crashing down upon the ground, at the last moment lashing out with the knife in an attempt to both harm the turned Azrael and prevent the blade from bouncing harmlessly off the cement, the force of which just might dislocate his shoulder. The slash was sloppy, but there was a helluva lot of momentum backing it, and Valitus knew that if the blade dug into any part of his adversary's body, it would induce a sizable wound.


"You ignorant fuck!"


He snarled as he attacked. He was suddenly seized by an unpredictable rage, and, judging by the vice-grip upon the knife that had his knuckles turning white, Valitus was definitely in the mood to kill, if he hadn't been before. All curiosity aside, Valitus was ready to tear Azrael limb from limb, spreading his entrails on the side walk like some crude artistic display.


Azrael was suddenly overcome with this horrific pain. What in the fuck just happened? Bending at the knees momentarily, he then kicked off away from the pain. As he came to a stop, about five meters from where he once stood, he turned to face what he assumed to be Vali-boy. Of course, there he was, gripping the blade that was now stained with blood. Reaching over with his right hand, he felt his left shoulder. Sure enough, one of his fingers ended up embedded in his flesh for a moment. It seems this guy really did some damage to Azrael. But still, even though he could barely move his left arm, and he was still bleeding profusely, he let out no cry of pain. No visible sign of strain. Raising a brow, he shouts,


"Well then. Someone's extra serious. Didn't I tell you to die!”


 Holding the point of his blade at his adversary, he cocked his arm back then threw it with plenty of force, aiming right for Vali's chest. As soon as the blade left his hand, a single handseal was formed using his right hand. He was about to utilize something he loathed. He found jutsu to be a sign of weakness. Nonetheless, within a moment his figure disappeared from view. He wasn't sure if Vali actually paid attention to what he was doing, or if he was focused on the incoming six inch blade about to force its way into his chest. In the time it took for the blade to travel the distance between the men, his body had 'manifested' so to speak, behind and slightly to the left of Vali. In one smooth motion, Azrael brought his right leg upwards in a roundhouse kick motion, poised to strike Vali's back, forcing him forward into his knife.


Valitus saw the knife, and his eyes narrowed into slits; yet, ever the perceptive one, he realized that Azrael's hand was contorting into a seal.


"Fuck…"


He muttered, deducing that one of two things was about to happen: either some form of explosion, or some sort of follow-up attack, with the incoming knife being the distraction. Valitus, in all his eagerness to remove himself from the path of the knife, noticed not the disappearance of his adversary, nor his reappearance; he was quite preoccupied with trying to sidestep the accursed projectile. It was just a show of his bad luck that he stepped to the left, rather than the right, and was abruptly lurched forward as Azrael's leg barreled relentlessly into his back, knocking the wind out of him, as well as sending him throttling into the knife's path. But today fate hadn't been a total bitch. Due to his sidestepping motion, the knife did not stab into his chest (thankfully), but instead ended up tearing into his right shoulder. His balance momentarily lost, Valitus stumbled forward, neatly crashing to the ground; however a hastily made leg-motion righted him again, while spinning his body around to face Azrael. Defiantly, Valitus spat a glob of blood that had welled up in his mouth at his opponent, and then made to backpedal. While he moved, he stomped forcefully upon the streets during one of his steps, eliciting a reaction from every particle of water in the radius of ten meters. As if they were loyal dogs awaiting the call of their master, the raindrops, the puddles -- everything, rose suddenly into the air, took on the likeness of senbons, and tried to stab their way into Azrael's body, much like the man's knife had stabbed its way into Valitus.


 "Suiton: Sensatsu Suishō!"


He hissed, although the formation of kata was an obsolete concept in the moment: it seemed as if the surrounding water was more than ready to be called to war, as if they had fallen from the heavens for the sheer purpose of serving Valitus.


Azrael was at a loss. He knew the barrage of water senbon was unavoidable, but this couldn't end. No. He had to consume more of this man. The droplets of blood were only the beginning. Through pure resilience he leaped headfirst into the wave of impeding death before him. As he struck the brunt of the attack, he was quickly dropped to the ground, unable to move. Puncture wounds riddled Azrael's body. Something he could neither take pleasure in, nor feel pain from. Still, no cry of pain from Azrael. Instead, he shouted whilst lying on his back.

TWC: 10244

"Fuck you! All you had to do was die! But noooo!"


 There really was a thing he could do. He already lost plenty of blood from this little skirmish. It's a feat in itself that he's still breathing.


Valitus let a grin spread on his face.


"Told you."


He panted.


"I told you that you wouldn't win."


But truly, he was in a bad shape himself. The world around him was dim, his vision swimming with darkness. It was difficult for him to stand, the effects of losing so much blood finally beginning to take their toll on him. But he wasn't down just yet. Stumbling as he walked, he dragged himself over to his adversary's downed body, appraised him, and then hastily made to drive the knife he held into Azrael's shoulder. It was payback; he was inflicting the very wound that Azrael had inflicted upon him. There was nothing wrong with that; was there?


"What the?"


Valitus shook his head, blinking the stars out of his eyes. Why was his conscious questioning his actions? Faintly, he could feel the sensation of being overcome by something -- but what?


Azrael, on the brink of consciousness, let out a horrendous mix of laughter and gurgling as some blood pooled in his mouth. Turning his head to the side, he let loose a good amount of blood from his mouth, effectively clearing his throat.


"What's the matter, big guy, can't kill me while I'm on my feet so you gotta stab a man while he's down. Oh, I can't wait to bite your face off!"


Valitus snarled.


"Ah, shut the fuck up."


And promptly reared his fist back, aiming a punch at the man's face to shut him up. His head was throbbing now, his body trembling and shuddering.


"Damn it." 


He yelled.


"DAMN IT!"


Azrael couldn't help but let out another roar of laughter as his face is beaten to a lumpy pulp. Once he had enough, he spat out a nice glob of blood at Vali.


"Now who's hitting like a girl!?"


He jeered.


Valitus didn't respond. His body convulsed uncontrollably and he staggered away, inevitably crashing to the ground a meter away from Azrael. God, his head felt like it was splitting open. He clutched and thrashed about wildly; in his movement, he didn't notice that he inadvertently forced the knife impaled into his shoulder deeper in.


"Stop trying to take over!"


He hissed -- and then his voice shifted, became more child-like. “GiVe mE mY bOdy BACK!!!”: Valitus screamed once, and then all his shaking ended; he had slipped into unconsciousness.


Azreal rocked his head back and forth, trying to keep himself conscious, however that didn't really last very long. It was a miracle that he lasted as long as he did. Any more would make him a monstrosity. Just before slipping off into a peaceful slumber, he overheard what sounded like a quarrel within Vali-boy. As he drifted off, he muttered.


"Yeah...and I'm the crazy one."


"You idiotic bastards!"


The voice that cut through the eerier silence that had settled over the streets of Konohagakure was irate. From out of the shadows came Navi, striding purposefully, snow white cloak fluttering about in his wake. And who was behind him? None other than Kenzo, the slave. His face was twisted into a frown, his eyes glaring daggers into the fallen bodies that littered the streets. Six in all. He shook his head, checking the pulse of each body; only two were still living.


"They always wanna fight in my city."


He brooded as he dragged the lifeless bodies into an adjacent alleyway, dumping them inside a dumpster. He expected the rain to wash the blood off the sidewalk. Turning his attention to the two unconscious combatants, he gathered chakra to the palms of both his hands, and then called blood forth from the pores. He set to work healing, moving at a leisurely pace, all the while murmuring about sadistic bastards that wanted to tarnish his city. After about an hour of healing them both, he felt that he had healed f their wounds, and unceremoniously began to drag them through the streets. First he took Valitus, depositing him just outside the village gates, telling the ANBU that guarded not to worry.


"Leave him to rot, for all I care."


Kenzo tended to the annoyance that was Azrael, and dragged him in the opposite direction, to a large plain just outside the rear of the village.


"And don't ever enter this village again."


He said, bestowing upon Azreal a powerful kick to his jaw for good measure. Pleased with himself, he dusted off his hands and, formed a kata that made his body disappear into the darkness. Darkness? Yes, the dark began to envelop Kenzo’s body along with every aspect of the dream. He was finally waking from his slumber.
 
Kenzo, on this day, awakened quite normally for the first time. His eyes opened to view his room. The room was not spinning, flipping, or turning, nor were any of the objects upside down. Kenzo sat up in his bed, and crossed his leg. His readings about chakra and spiritual energy have told him that meditating is a good way to calm the mind, and the spirit. Today, he thought he'd give it a try. He sat up, bringing his hands together to be placed within his lap as he began taking deep breaths. He began to notice things with his senses. The house was quiet, except for the constant beating of his heart. It beat so slowly. It made him wonder, could that somehow be used to his advantage in battle? He began to imagine it all, gather extreme amounts of chakra at one's heart then destroying the source of life. That could be quite a technique. He noticed that his heart rate had begun to speed up. The point of meditating was to clear his mind. He had almost forgotten that. If Keno could master the art of meditation he could become both a warrior of the heart, and the mind. This would make him one who dispels dreams of judgment, pain, doubt, lies, false ideologies, and judgment that could prove detrimental to his life and/or health. Though most of the time meditation was something that old people did, monks, priests, and pacifist, Kenzo was indeed not a pacifist. Becoming a warrior of the mind would mean to face any and all challenges with the clarity and awareness that reality is not a stake, but his sanity. This would mean winning the war within himself in order to find truth and purpose in life. This task would not be an easy one as it would take courage, willpower, disciple, and commitment to the task at hand. Awareness is essential because it is the state of consciousness that allows us to discern between the facts and the Truth, and between the story and the lies in our mind. The realm of our mind is filled with false perceptions and false beliefs. While the mind can be very clever with stories and lies, it is the consciousness of awareness that is the discerning intelligence. We may use very intelligent reasoning to make a decision that is not good for ourselves. Only to look at it in hindsight and realize that we discounted indicators that told us otherwise. The mind is clever, but it is also full of assumptions and limited paradigms of perception. Conscious awareness allows us to see clearly instead of be blinded by these false belief paradigms. Self awareness is the clarity to know who and what you are, and not get caught up in self important images of ourselves. These self important images in our mind distort our sense of who we are. False images can lead us to low self esteem and self confidence, or they can take us into being self centered. If you have an idea of who you are, then consider that you are not that idea in your mind. You are the one creating the idea, and observing it. Self awareness that you are not any of those images in your mind is essential to becoming free of self importance. For Kenzo, this could have been a necessity because these dreams he was having, these false perceptions of reality, may lead to his downfall one day. The courage that makes for a good soldier also makes for a good Shinobi, but the intent becomes completely different. A soldier has courage to face a challenge that may bring physical harm. The Shinobi has the courage to question challenge his or her own beliefs. By challenging our own beliefs we can dissolve the lies that cause our suffering. To challenge our own beliefs requires courage because it means the end of our illusion of safety. When other people challenge our own beliefs we are usually quick to defend. We defend them even if they cause us to suffer. As a warrior we learn not to defend what we believe, and then to challenge those very beliefs ourselves. In this way we are able to sort out the truth from illusions. Kenzo lacked at least one of the necessary traits, and so, on this day he would not mediate, but he would go on about his business. Such a task wasn't entertaining at all.
 
Well, that was boring...


After the short meditation session Kenzo would begin to prepare to leave. He gathered his items, and prepared to go head out. After a short amount of time passed, Kenzo was dressed in all black once again; black sandals, black sweatpants, and a black long-sleeve T-Shirt. He stepped from within the confines of his home, exposing his body to the outside world once any and began to sprint around the village. He kept a steady pace, hoping to warm-up his body with a jog. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in the bottom corner of his leg, and he fell to the ground. He held his leg in pain as he did, and gritted his teeth. Cramps: The punishment for Shinobi who didn't stretch, especially speedy ones! Kenzo would have to remember to stretch before exercising. Kenzo rose to a stand, trying his best to ignore the pain even though he still cringed after every few passing seconds. He extended the cramping leg, holding it in that extended position until the cramps were no more. After a couple seconds the cramp was gone. Kenzo continued to stretch, extending all of his limbs to make sure that were okay. He then created a couple of handseals. Why? It was time to pump up the gas of course. Kenzo activated his body. Chakra began to flow from all of his Tenketsu at once. It was about time he gave this technique a test run.

Kenzo held that handseal, closing his eyes as he stood stationary. Bursts of hot air left his pink lips only moments after the chakra flowing from his Tenketsu brought each, and every strand of hair on his body to life. The clothing upon his body began to ripple, and, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Where had his body gone? Follow the sound of screaming women, and you'd find him. When the dust cleared there his body laid. The crumbling rocks laid atop his body, and he laid unconscious, at least that was what was assumed. Kenzo opened his eyes, pushing off the ground to stumble to a stand as the fallen chunks of the wall fell off his small body. 


"Ughh... What the..."


Kenzo then stared awkwardly at the women, digging into the back of his head as he stepped away.


"Ehh... Sorry. " 


With that, Kenzo was gone. He needed to perfect this technique so why had he continued to fail? He had vanished via one of the most basic of all technique's. Then, he wondered why hadn't he given this technique the element of fire yet? That would come later. Now, Kenzo appeared outside his own home. He had an appointment that he had to get ready for. Kenzo entered his home, stepping out of the doorway to show the world his outfit. He was sporting a pair of black pants, and a black long-sleeve dress shirt that had been decorated by a black bow-tie. Behind him was a goddess who's presence induced a bulging condition in the shorts of every male that laid eyes on her. One could not describe the woman without delving into the voluptuous cleavage of her bosom. That protruding bust bounced with every flawless step she toke. Those long white legs shifted perfectly with every step she toke as that tight black dress conformed oh-so perfectly to the curves on her body. Her presence alone tempted the eyes of every man in the vicinity, but none dared even sneak a peek while she stood beside the young flame, Kenzo. Those dark overprotective eyes flitted left to right, bouncing from one corner of his eyes to the next as though they were forced to ricochet in every direction. He was more overprotective of his mother than she was of him. As for those who stared as her tight behind, they had gotten away with it, but the young male demanded respect. If on asshole had felt himself above all others, so much that he found it within himself the even glance at the woman's chest, he would encounter a problem he could not handle. In moments, Kenzo and his trophy mother were standing outside of a comrades home, Jason's home. They stood in silence, never once making a sound after that knocked in the door. Kenzo, who stood just under 5 feet, was towered over by his mother who stood 6 feet tall. She looked down at her son, sending a smile his way as he released an uncontrollably wide grin. That smile remained their, bringing all his sun-kissed features to life upon his tanned skin. Both of their smiles were perfect, almost too perfect as they stared straight forward waiting for someone to answer the door.

WC: 2357

TWC: 12601

[Sorry about the rushed dream ending... it would've lasted forever. Jason you only have to read the last paragraph to reply properly.]

+ 126 JP
+ 63 Stats

Training For Second Element:
Suiton 4000/4000[/size]

Flaming Seat of Judgement Mastery 5000/5000


Flaming Seat of Judgement Post Length +1 1000/1000


Flaming Seat of Judgement Post Length +1 1000/1000

Approved! >;D

Jason heard a knock and went to open it. as he did, Jason saw a familiar face. Jason smiled instantly. "ah, Kenzo. it's nice to see you." Jason stated with a big smile on his face. Jason looked at the tall woman with a slight interest. " and who is this? is she your mother?" Jason asked with interest. interest and curiosity. Jason heard his mother call for him inside the house.

"who is it, honey?" a feminine voice could be heard inside the house.

"it's that guy i told you about, mom! if you want, you can come out and meet him!" Jason shouted back to his mother. after a few minutes of waiting a woman of 32 years of age came out of the house. the woman had a mix of brown and blonde hair that stopped at the butt. the woman was slightly taller than Jason but not by much. the woman was about 20 inches taller than Jason. no more, no less.the woman was wearing a blue sweater with matching blue pants and black sandals. she had a beautiful face, as if she was sculpted by a master of art. the woman stepped forward and smiled a sincere smile. "hello, my name is Adrian Uzumaki. it's nice to meet you two." Adrian's voice spoke of clarity and grace. "would you like to come inside for tea?" Adrian asked politely. 

Jason looked at his mother and smiled gently to her. Jason went inside and went to the kitchen. Kenzo's mother went inside the house. Kenzo walked in with Jason, and Jason turned around and shut the door.

(exit, WC 270, closed)