Blood and Sand

Days go by
 
 
                A deep rumbling could be heard as the sun began to peak over the many volcanoes littering the country from their namesake.  Perhaps one of the great mountains belly rumbled, yearning to let loose its destructive power.  Shouten had opened his eyes to world, given him new life and birthed him into the same world, but with different attitude.  The village, the land all of it appeared different now.  No more the easy living he once saw, instead he looked on the world with vile contempt.  The same very people that once walked and looked at him with eyes cast in shame and pitty, they now turned gaze and looked away.  Which was for the best, Taios had killed a man who looked at him and scoffed.  In the past, Taios wouldn’t have cared, but now he did, and he wasted no time in asserting his dominance, shattering the hope of those who thought themselves his better.  Taios would be the alpha to all, with the only exception being Shouten, Sayomi, and Osore.  He had not met the latter two yet, but he hoped to someday.  No matter though, Shouten was the only man he would call master.  He was the only one who had proved himself worthy.
 
                In the village, Taios moved quickly through the market, taking what he willed for breakfast.  No one dared stop him, no one even dared look at what he did.  The commoners, Taios snarled, so weak so willing to be dominated like a broken whore unknowing of the value of money.  He mounted them and took his pleasures of them, no resistance given.  He was not even a strong ninja yet, and already he found he could take what he will from them.  Though his being the jinjuriki was not common knowledge among these people, everyone could see the change in him.  He no longer walked with shoes instead he went everywhere barefoot.  His hair had changed colors, and become long and wild.  His teeth also had elongated and become sharp, becoming more and more apelike.  However the most startling change had been his eyes.  The iris now seemed to move, shifting in a circle, a deep red and black like that of a lava flow.  This was from the close contact with the bijuu that resided inside of him, and as such a manifestation of the Yonbi’s great and illustrious powers.  Indeed, it was most likely the power of the bijuu that had led to his continuation of life and the rebirth of such.  Even so the Yonbi still did not fully respect the boy, even if Taios now saw the Yonbi as a friend and ally.
 
                “Were are we going child?  What is the point of this pilgrimage?”  The Yonbi roared inside Taios’ mind as he walked snacking on an apple had had snagged from a market.  Indeed the 4 tails had taken a much more keen intrest in the boys life since that faithful; day in the Osore’s office.  Where before it was simply contempt, now he took an active role in the boys life and training.  His life was on the line as well, as such he wished it to keep on going now that the boy was taking an actual interest in living.  Taios heard the beasts request, and answered, “We are off for training and challenge.  I still have the finals of that tournament to attend to, and then the next step will be leaving the village for a small amount of time.  There we will seek a spot to train and grow strong.”  The Yonbi was silent, pleased with the boys decision on the activities that he wished to do.  On their journey the moved farther and farther to find the area were the finals of the tournament were to take place. 
 
                Before Taios had entered the tournament arena and pushed pass the throngs of people twice.  Both times he had entered with a smile and happiness.  This time he entered with hate, and rage.  He would fight not to win, but to kill whatever man was unlucky enough to make it to the finals of this rag tag tournament.  He could see the man, a large brawler.  Clearly not a ninja, but a man of girth and strength enough to discount such a fact.  Taios still had the body of a ten year old, but his form was changing.  His muscels were no longer the long thin ones of a boy, but thanks to the SIN cells he now was growing stronger, his body different.  Indeed he had not once been hungry since he had been injected, nor did he grow weary.  Instead he felt himself stronger from the mutagen or virus or whatever his master had given him.  Some would see such things as a curse, and perhaps the old Taios would be disgusted.  However the godlessness of this injection now intrigued Taios, and he sought its strength.  He would use it to the best of his abilities and as such would destroy many lives with it. 
 
                As the match was about to begin, Taios stood.  He walked to a pillar and with a single tiny fist, he smashed in the pillar, shattering the rock and sending spiraling spiderlike cracks throughout its surface.  His eyes burned, the crimson display would be nothing compared to the blood that was about to flow from this man.  He was not innocent, no man was innocent and as such his death was assured, and Taios would deliver him to the reaper.  Standing at the arena side, Taios watched as the man approached, heavily scarred yet he had a hint of fear in his eyes.  This man must have heard of Taios’ other victims, and now instead of happy, Taios was stronger and meaner set to task.  This man in front of him wouldn’t really suffer much.  Instead he would be offered a fairly quick death.  Taios had more important things to do, than waste time on jumped up bar brawlers.  The man entered, cracking his knuckles and prepared for the brawl.  Taios did the same, walking up.  The bell rang shortly, and Taios approached the man.  In a matter of moments, he swung low, with a low kick.  Connecting with his knees, he sent the big man tumbling.  No matter the size of the tree, hacking the trunk from underneath causes the falling. 
 
                As the man tumbled, down, Taios watched him go.  If the man was not even worthy to stand, after such a weak strike then was it even worth attempting to fight him.  Standing up straight, he watched the much larger man regain his feet and come at him again.  He threw fist after fist, each one with enough power to cave in a regular mans skull.  Taios ducked and dodged each strike, waiting for his opportunity.  Once it was garnered, he struck out quickly and hard.  Bending underneath a right handed haymaker, he began a three blow combo.  This was part of the Arhat fist technique he had been studying.  His right hand crashed into the man’s ribs, the resulting ripple of flesh and breaking of ribs threatened if anything to suck his very fist into the mans.  His left hand blew forward striking the man’s chest left of center.  The strike hit as such that the man’s very lung would collapse from the impact knocking it off the pleural cavity.  His final blow, was a kick with his right leg, connecting his knee into the mans pelvis.  It would hit as such to shatter the iliac crest of the man, breaking his pelvis causing him to crumple. 
 
                Standing over the man, he leaned in close, the man face streaked with tears.  Several hit the ground, each one a dream and destiny crushed and forgotten.  It would all be over for him in a matter of moments.  Grabbing hold of the man’s chest, forcing him to look Taios in the eyes, he relished this moment.  The ending of another weak individual.  This would put the end of him, one more weak link to be shattered and tossed aside.  Reaching with his hand he grabbed the man’s throat.  With one little squeeze he cut off air.  And with another, he twisted shattering the mans throat, and cracking the vertebrae in the neck.  The man would die instantly, left to stay crumpled on the ground.  Standing tall, he walked away.  He left the prize money and all rewards.  They meant nothing to him, and were not the reason he was here.  He would instead take the victory as his only reward.  Exiting from the area, he moved on to be stronger in the end.  That is how he would have it.  The Yonbi was silent.  It had not spoken to him during the fighting, or now as he walked out of the gates.  It was always silent in times like these.
 
                He didn’t bother taking any provisions with him.  He no longer needed to eat, he no longer needed to drink.  Instead he was a machine, built only for war.  A gladiator set to take stance against the tides and send the waves crashing crimson with the blood of all foes.  In these boarders, he would seek refinement.  He would seek the iron and heat to temper him to be the blade of Funkagakure.  He began walking, eyes unseeing only viewing what was in front of him.  Instead his eyes were set within his mind.  He looked upon the Yonbi in its cage, the great beast sitting, snarling as always.  “Son Goku why are you still so angry?  We are one, we work together we would be unbeatable.”  Taios was still attempting to become friends with the great beast, something the Son Goku was not yet prepared to do.  The beast still not hold the child with enough respect to take him as an equal and as such denied any request of teamwork.  Only in the moments of greatest need would the bijuu assist Taios, however until then he would remain recluse and loyal to himself.    With the beast silent, Taios snapped back to reality, and moved onwards to a tiny hamlet that he knew of. 
 
                There were several villages that littered the landscape.  They held no loyalty to any but themselves, and housed only a few ninja.  No one cared for their lives especially in the Volcano village.  No, here is where Taios would set himself to train and learn.  He would shatter these tiny villages, taking the lives of each man and woman in them.  Here he would stain his hands with blood, to wash away the dirt.  Only bathed in red would the thirst of a berserker be momentarily satiated.  Here is were he would change from a boy to a man.  He would grab hold of the world, and have his way with it.  The battlefield his playground, he would be the biggest on it, and shatter all resistance.  No these tiny villages did not know what was coming for them.  Their salvation from peace, the destroyer of humanity would seek each of them out to have them finished.  Along the way, several man sought the riches of Taios’s pockets or the molestation of a young person traveling alone.  No Taios did not let such men gain any entertainment, and instead he only gave them death.  Several highway men, and a half starved bandit all fell beneath the fists of Taios, as he didn’t see fit to waste time with bladed weapons.  Taios preferred his fists, and the blood of his enemies seemed to prefer it as well, since it always clung to them.  Destroying these few men, he found a hamlet, in which to reside.  He rested inside one of the huts.  The people inside didn’t mind, after all the dead do not mind were they sleep, and Taios sent their passing accordingly.  In time, this entire village would see the same fate.  However in the morning was that destiny.  Apocalypse can wait in the name of good rest.
 
The Making of Monsters
 
                The morning sun peaked over the closest volcano.  It’s warm beams hit the hamlet.  Such happiness, such beauty.  The people came out and tended gardens and children played.  So beautiful and peaceful.  No damage seemed to have ever fallen on such a place.  Indeed it was a rare flower, like a virgin in a whorehouse.   One not of such a mind would have said that this hamlet should be spared, left untouched.  TO keep such a rare beauty and keep it pur for the sake of the Volcano country.  However Taios was of no like mind, and indeed his rage was bubbling and brewing prepared to spill over.  He sat in his hut, well the victims on the floors hut.  He would strike soon, soon, soooon.  He began to froth at the mouth, lava flowing and hitting the ground burning away the wood floor.  He was letting his rage fill him.  The yonbi sniffed the air, and sat up.  He could sense the bloodlust.  A creature imprisoned by humans will always relish in their destruction, even when forced to watch from the cage.  A roar, and fire came forth from the beast.  AS such happened, Taios felt his muscels constrict, rage spilling.  Heat radiated the air began to shimmer around him.  Steam seemed to emanate from his skin.  He began to shake violently.  With such intensity was the ending of this village to begin.
 
                Throwing his arm wide, he assumed the full version 2 cloak with 4 tails protruding.  Indeed this was his only release.  The blood call of a hungry beserker.  The cloak did not even burn his flesh like it did to many.  His continued use of it, willingly had lead to the adaptation of it.  He did not fear the use of the bijuu’s power, nor had he ever.  He had always freely used its powers, true he was an off jinjuriki if there ever was one.  However he would become known as the best.  His rage at its climax and his blood lust at its peak, he moved out to find what he desired.  Throwing his tails wide, he spun in a quick circle destroying all the walls around him, demolishing the attack.  He struck out and began searching for individuals to strike against.  He would bathe himself in warfare and find himself washed clean of innocence.  On the outside of the building, Taios destroyed life after life.  He reached with his own claws and the ones formed from the cloak to grab hold of foe, and squeeze the life from them.
               
                The berseker cries out, and the screams of the woman greet him.  As each man grabs what weapons they can, they strike out to stop this beast.  However as each reaches to gain glory and become a hero, each find their story cut short, the ink smeared with blood.  Taios’s roar could be heard all around, he had no desire but the blood of the weak.  And he found himself far from wanting.  He did not seak anything else, but to be satsisfied by battle.  There was not much satisfaction, but the blood did pool at his feet.  He would be happy to live with that for now though.  Only a handful of men even began to challenge him.  And even they quickly fell.  There were but three that striked at the same time that made Taios work for his undisputed victory.  They came at him from all three sides.  One in the front and two from each side.  Their swords and shields ment to be of compliment to their strikes and attack but instead they found themselves wanting.  The dull steel of such a place was nothing to the hardened skin of the being of war.  AS their swords hit the flesh, they found themselves stymied not even an inch into the cloak.  Their reward was an arm forming beneath each blade, to enter into the flesh of each man.  Their skin ripped from bones.  Lives ended in the briefest of moments.
 
                After he was done satiating his hunger, Taios sat in the wreckage.  He ate their food, and drank from what the people had.  He waited until noon, the entire destruction had taken little time.  Once he was done, he would look to walk towards his next destination.  He would find another place to strike, another place to feed his rage.  It still hungered for action, though it was satisfied for this moment.  Only for this moment.  Leaving the village he once again took to the highway.  How many villages would he hunt in, how many lives would he take before he felt ready to return to the village.  He needed great strength to do this, he need it more than he needed anything.  How else would he show deserving virtues for the blessings he had already received?  His dark patron was of great power, and would expect the same.  Tais would be that servant, the one who would obey all commands.  He would not mind any pain, or any torture he must endure along this path.  While on the highway he continued to train his body, hardening it and strengthening it. 
 
                On his path he found many great boulders, and many trees with which he used as punching bags.  They were the weights that he could lift to increase his strength.  Each one lifted, each one shattered beneath fist.  They were protein and nutrients to his muscles.  Causing them to grow strong.  His bulk increasing.  He no longer resembled that thin little boy that was so cute among the village.  Instead he now resembled a much larger man.  Perhaps it was the aid of the SIN cells that coursed through his veins, but he did indeed grow in strength and size every day.  Soon his very muscles could crush anything beneath his blows.  Perhaps it was time to garner a weapon, to smash in the skulls of his foe.  Indeed his strength was great, but any tool would be useful in his hand.
 
A True Gladiator
 
                Three more villages fell beneath the fists of Taios.  Reaching in and grasping them before crushing them and watching the ooze squeeze beneath his fingers.  Each village was reaped without resistance and as such refused to remove the drought of blood that Taios sought.  In one of the villages he received news of a gladiatorial arena full of slaves.  A gladiatorial arena, truly that would satisfy his desire.  Nothing like the glorious death of many men to strike at men’s heart.  Making his way to the place, he would enter into it as a slave.  Perhaps he could allow himself to be captured and be a true gladiator.  He wanted the thrill of the arena brought to him.  The cheer of the crowd as men died.  It would be a test of his skill, a test of his resolve.  No more weak peasants, no more woman and children would he slaughter for the coming days.  Instead he would slay other men who were trained as he to be strong fighters.  Not ninja necessarily, but instead trained killers, who deal only in death.  Not the sly schemeing of the men he knew, but instead brutal thugs whose delight was as much in blood as his own.
 
                Indeed the oddities of the events of these days was the silence of Goku himself.  He watched on as best he could from within his prison.  He held back rage, and did not see fit to express such.  He wanted his freedom more than anything, but this child was finally working towards true strength.  He had even taken to remembering his name properly, something none had done before him.  The boy was using his chakra more and more, and in that may be his escape.  He needed to continue to feed the boy chakra, and eventually perhaps he could take over and have freedom.  Only however if he bided his time and played it right.  This was not always the king Apes strong suit, scheming instead of blunt action.  It would take time, to escape.  The boy however had grown incredibly strong in a short amount of time.  If he did not strike soon, then the boy could possibly rise up to be strong enough to even fight back.  IT would not happen, he must keep it from happening.  Already his attempts were slowed by these accursed SIN cells, no longer was the boy aging growing weak, it would limit his chances of escape, but still possible.
 
                As the great beast plots on, Taios oblivious to this fact continues to search for his next destination.  The horizon gives birth to a magnificent wooden arena.  It’s size was huge, with cart after cart entering.  Food, slaves, cattle, exotic beast all enter the arena.  Only in a land that favors such cruelty could such a place exist.  It was here, that Taios could make a claim as a gladiator and prove his strength not only to people, but to himself as well.  It was of small consequence to cleanse himself of blood in a small oasis, and roll in the dirt.  He quickly became as dirty as any slave that had been abandoned.  His new bulk and size would attract slavers, which it did instantly.  He was soon took captured, and he feigned weakness from absence of food and drink.  Only a fool would have fully believed such an act, however this world is ripe with fools, who grow from the tree of ignorance, and the roots go deep.  Landing himself into a cell, and told his impending death was imminent in the morning, he was pleased.  Such people, it was always the nicest thing about people; they stack so neatly when one has the cruelty to do so. 
 
                The night passed with ease.  He even ate the gruul that was brought to him.  A concoction full of foul odor and bitter taste.  Though it was packed, clearly a food to stick to the ribs and strengthen men to make sure they died strong.  Growing more and more use to the absence of eating made it harder to eat, but he wished not to insight any suspicion onto himself and who he might be.  Absent any belonging, it was of little difficulty to achieve such a feat.  The sun rose, and morning was given birth in the west like it always was.  It was today that Taios would get his chance in the arena.  The blood would be soaked in red, and his strength and dominance proven to many.  The handlers came, and roughed him to the pit.  Throwing him into it, he let himself fall upon the knees and look around.  His opponent was dressed in armor. Heavy sword and shield gripped in hand, while Taios remained naked, unclothed and bare handed.  He clearly was meant to die in this contest as a mere spectator eye candy, and to begin the raving blood hunger of sharks.
 
                Taios worked to calm his mind, though his heart raged.  He always raged, but he knew how to focus. He was no beast, he was a machine dedicated to war.  As such like any machine they must work properly.  Standing outside of this one subjected themselves to death.  This would not be his fate, no but the man in front of him, would die.  He needed to prove a point in this opening contest.  He wished not to remain on the ballet as a weakling; instead he wished to be champion before destroying and tearing this place to the ground.  As the contest began, the big man approached.  Swinging his sword clumsly.  Taios leaned this wy and that way dodging each strike, lifting leg to dodge a blow.  It was at one of the moments, that he threw a straight right with the force of a giant, to smash into the man’s face plate.  Clearly the man had been dazed.  After another weak sword strike, Taios turned into the man, gripping his arm above his shoulder at elbow and wrist.  Pulling down, he could feel the humorous snap, and once done flipped the man over.  Taking the sword and driving it into the fallens face, he threw his arms wide and shouted in victory.  All men were silent.  The roar was of the Yonbi, and a god of the arena had been born.
 
God of the Arena
 
                Taios returned to his cell after that first day.  He had killed the man easly, and had proven to any with a keen eye he was a gladiator to watch.  Some may question someone who had the good graces of the powerful men of a great village, to choose to live in cells as a slave.  Yet Taios was not such a man to think himself better.  No his rage saw to that he only looked onward for the blood and conflict.  He did not mind living as a slave.  He was a slave to his own desires as it was, his body did not mind the pain of it.  No he drank in the poverty and filth.  Kneading it to his own needs, absorbing all the pain and anguish to be wrought into strength.  His body was a kiln and this pain the clay.  He burned and created great mastery with it.  His next match was determined.  He had raised himself from meaningless beginnings to moderate middles in but one match.  Indeed there were many who thought his actions as a fluke.  However others would like to see more.  The ground always hungers for an underdog, and Taios was giving them that with his display.  The same men came and grabbed him.  They were less rough this time however.  Perhaps slightly worried now that they saw what he was capable of.  All the same he was thrust onto the sand.  This time with an Axe in hand. 
 
                The proctors of the games seemed to not wish for the victory of Taios to continue however.  Indeed it was a troublesome thing when games didn’t go the way the main gamblers wished them to go.  His opponents were three men, all heavily armed.  One man held sword and tower shield, the next spear and buckler with the last having net and trident.  Classic weapons of gladiatorial combat.  Indeed it was a miracle they had given him weapon at all if they wished him dead.  The proctor stood and gave introduction, as Taios swung his axe with a flick of each wrist.  He gave his opponents a snarl, this axe hungered for blood.  He would see it well supplied.  As the introductions ended their call, and the men set to purpose, Taios walked forward continuing to twist the axe, and letting it whistle in the wind.  Surely his task was to break the damn the stood on each of these men that they called skin, and see the crimson rivers flow from beneath.  Truly a gift he had been given.  What had he done should Shouten not have awakened him, be sprinkling flowers, no now he would let the blood rain.
 
                His opponents started their approach.  The spearman to his left, the trident on his left, and the sword to the front.  A rather predictable formation for one with any knowledge of combat.  Indeed, it was a blessing.  The gods that hungered for blood and violence would be well supplied on this day.  The man with sword came running leaping to strike down with all his might, just as the spearman stabs and the trident springs forth.  Swinging up with the axe, he is able to knock the sword away, while moving forward to dodge the attacks of the long weapons.  He is only met with a hard blow to his front from the tower shield and to be knocked back.  The net would come from his left still, enwrapping his legs, causing a loss of footing and a fall.  Rolling, the spearmen attempts his strike.  However his aim proved unworthy, and rolling onto the mans weapon is able to pull it from his grasp.  Leaving it in the sand, as he stands the blade of his axe raises faster.  Slicing the man from cock to chin.  The blood poured forth splattering Taios and the two men next to him.  Hooking the edge of the axe on the chin, Taios puls the corpse of the deceased forward, to capture a sword stroke, while sliding past the trident to grab ahold of the wood behind points.
 
                Elbow being brought down like a hammer to anvil, Taios snaps the weapon like kindling.  A backward spin leads the axe to rest in the mans skull, deep and true.  However the blad has run its course so deep, that it resides and stays.  Weaponless, Taios takes his steps back to reevaluate the opponent.  The man with sword, staires through the holes in his helmet.  Waiting.  This man is cautios now.  He does not wish to die, he is no gladiator, but instead a man of caution.  This is the way that taios will win.  Running forward, he jumps forward, superman punching with all his strength.  The blow is caught on shield only to let the sound of wood splintering crack across the battlefield and into the ears of each member of the audience. 
 
                Fist bleeding from the hard contact, Taios had made the shield worthless, and his foe cast it aside.  He stared at the man.  Rage eating through his heart.  The heat of the air fueled him, the sould of a berserker relishing this moment, as a moment of pure joy. The man still held his sword, however Taios charged him anyway.  As the man goes to stab, Taios shifts his weight, and allows the sword to cut him on his left side, before he pulls his arm down to trap the blade.  Despite the wound, and the pain, Taios holds the sword there as a punch right between the eyes of the man sends him to the afterlife.  The pop of his brain leaving its stem can be heard, and the crowd is silent.
 
Even Gods can Bleed
 
                The victory was credited with the loudest cheer in the history of the gladiatorial games had ever seen.  The very rafters shook, and dust rained down from them.  As he returned to his cell, he found himself with more food, and even the offering of women.  His appearance no longer reflected that of a young boy.  Indeed his appearance was feral now.  Indeed, he felt himself submitting to the animilastic ways, and found he referred them.  He took the women, and had his way, the bloodlust fueling his desires for such primal things.  The euphoria, of spilling the blood of his foes, and the taking of the women was the most powerful, and intoxicating substance he had ever felt.  He rested that night, not in a bed of straw alone, but in the presence of the females.  His dreams were absence of anything.  He wasn’t thinking of blood, he wasn’t thinking of pain.  He wasn’t even thinking of his master.  No for the first time since the day of his second birth he had experienced true satiation of his bloodlust.  The berserker slept beneath the surface, but the morning fast approached.  Gluttony was the chief sin of Taios, and he only fed on blood.
 
                Awaking, the girls were banished, and he stod alone once more. Naked he was permitted to bathe.  Now that he was becoming a chief request more was put into his appearance, as people wanted presentable champions.  What Taios had not known was the three men he had killed were all champions, and the match had been meant to commemorate the 100^th victory of all three men symbolizing their freedom.  Taios had ended such a hope with his axe.  The cries were intense from it, and more wanted to see Taios rise even further.  In two victories he went from slave, to God of the arena.  He would see his Olympus raise high.  HE would fight on until he was fully satisfied with himself, and only then would he tear down this house and all those underneath.  He stayed beind for some time before he was permeted entrance.  He was to fight in the primus, the main event.  He would fight the defending champion of the arena.  A man simply known as Fighter.  His name long forgotten, and unneeded for a beast such as this.  He was a beast, an animal of the country.  Said to be raised by monstrosities he know was one himself.   Taios would put that legend to grass.
 
                Upon being shown from his room, his body was rubbed down with oils, and even scented.  The smell of lilac and lavender filled his nostrils causing a sneer.  He was a warrior, not caring for these finer things.  He only needed the smell of dirt and sweat, and the taste of the metal of blood.  Once his skin was prepared, and a dye applied to bronze his skin he was led forth.  He entered the arena, this time with twin axes, each sharpened to wicked points, one blade adorning each side.  His opponent, the Fighter entered opposite.  His skin had also been prepared for this confrontation.  He stood, a dark forest green like that of an ogre.  His hair had been braided with twigs and leaves, giving the appearance of moss growing from a solid rock creature.  He truly did appeare like that of a monster form legged.  Though what this monster failed to understand was there was only one monster here, and it was Taios.    His roar shattered the arena, surely even glasses shattered from the volume.  The Yonbi lent its voice.  The sheer intensity of the air, the heat caused lightning to streak across the sky. 
 
                Taios felt the chakra of the Yonbi leaking into his skin.  His own chakra network still weak even with the strength of his physical body pulsated with red.  His breathing shallow and fast, his very body shaking.  He wished to enter the cloaked state let his anger take hold of himself and become a monster that he knew he was.  However such a thing was not to be done yet.  No, he had one more victory to achieve before he could let loose the demon.  Indeed with this victory perhaps he could live here.  As he thought this the man threw a heavy javelin towards Taios.  The blade flew past himself snipping a small piece of his ear off, the first blood would be shed by Taios.  Though should the gods be good it was only a trickle that marked the stream that was to begin.  Taios spun both axes, as the man infront of him hoisted shield and spear.  The confrontation set.  Taios would be the one to charge this time.  An unwise proposition against the spear, but the berserker demands action even against reason. 
 
                Each step struck up the sand; it leaped and clung to the competitors.  AS if it was a beast that knew it was time to feed and it sought to quicken the process.  Each step brought him closer, and the crowd roared with excitement.  AS he came into reach, he ducked and rolled, raising up with both axes to bite deep into flesh only to be denied by skill of experience.  The man took one step back, only to recoil the shield and push forward to obstruct the balance of the younger opponent.  His stance strong as a mountain, and Taios found himself pushed to the ground.  The sting of the spear felt as it was whipped around, a long cut struck across the boys back.  His cry of rage heard and fueled the crowd; all the while the sand drank the blood and hungered for more.  His opponent did not strike the advantage but instead put his back to his opponent, and raised his hands to the crowd.  Clearly he was one that played the crowd to perfection.
 
                Taios stood, and felt the blood drip from his back, it wetted his flesh and caused the scented oil to run, but Taios licked his lips and reveled in the smell.  The berserker desires but two things, one being the blood of his enemies, and the only thing more powerful is his own blood spilt in preparation of the gush of their opponent.  Taios swung one axe overhead while the other was at his side, and struck out against his opponent.  The Fighter turned, at the last moment as if he had eyes in the back of his head, banishing the axe with his shield while bring the hard wood to sting against the thigh of Taios.  The pain jolted him, but still fought, this close proximity opened himf or a second attack.  Using the momentum of his axe being hit away, he let it swing all the way through bringing it up to rest in the shield, before pulling it away.  Stepping forward again, he head butted the Fighter, and spilt blood from his nose.  The Fighter had not bled in many matches, and now it flowed.  Where this man sought the approval of the crowd and awaited to press advantage, Taios seized it by hits hips, and thrust home.  His second axe blocked the spear, as he was to close for such a long weapon to be useful, and with his now free right hand, he used his elbow to go across this mans chin, separating the man from his bottom teeth. 
 
                As the blood spilt, the green washed away, and the twigs and leaves fell from his hair.  It revealed nothing more than another man.  All men were weak, they all would fall beneath the gaze of Taios.  No, only monsters deserved free reign in this world, and the only one of those around was Taios.  Dropping the axe, he stepped outside of space and time to be next to the Yonbi.  Son Goku roared, green fire emanating from his mouth.  The flower field once again changed, his rage brought volcanoes up from the very ground, as if Taios’s mind now resembled the land of his original in a truly volatile state.  The jinjurki’s face was that of climax as his rage was fully realized, and he looked towards the great bijuu before him.  “Enjoy yourself” were the only words Taios spoke.  With that he allowed Son Goku to take control of his body in the cloaked form, and rampage. 

                Back in the arena, everonw would watch the change Taios had undertaken, and begin screaming.  Releasing the tailed beast ball, he obliterated a piece of the stadium.  The entire north section wiped form the earth.  Chakra arms released from bondage, grabbing and ripping through individual after individual.   He spun, and ripped all the more people until his chakra felt replenished releasing another tailed beast ball.  More souls released from the prisons of flesh to enter the underworld or whatever afterlife they believed in. 
 
                All were laid to grass.  Standing among the wreckage as the cloak receded, his face pointed to the sky, he breathed in deep.  Once again he felt satisfied, if only for a moment.  HE started the long trek back to the volcano village.  He was met by  no bandits and no thieves this time.  He returned to the village covered in the blood of many individuals, and a champion of the arena.  He would have to rebuild it one day, to seek further contest.  However for now it was time to resume his ninja training.  He would seek out Shouten, and prepare for his tasks.
 
(6609, 33 stats & 66jp)

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