A Dance in the Gardens [Open] [NK]

The grayed form of Kyousuke smirked as Miyamoto said that he would indeed find out. It wasn’t a matter of whether he would know, it was matter of when he would know. A ruckus starting within the village was rare, these things usually happened at the border where more village ninja were unlikely to appear. Whatever this guy was up to it was abnormal, why would someone attack ninja within the village. Surely, they would know it was a terrible idea.

In addition to gaining the attention of Miyamoto, he could hear a voice call out his name from within the cloud of dust. Kyousuke listened to the words his smirk leaving his face as he was told his friends would be devoured. “I am okay with you threatening me, your mistake was threatening my comrades for that I cannot allow.” Moving with a purpose up to Miyamoto (speed 140). He would begin talking very loudly so that everyone could hear. “I think you all have this handled, but leave the creature alive I need to find out his purpose in attacking ninja in the middle of the day.” Making a few seals Kyousuke would place his palm onto the ground spreading black seals upon the surface. “Come forth Momma Dough!” In an instant a large slug would appear under the queensguard and raise him into the air.

“Momma Dough is trained well in the healing arts, so be as rough as you need.” With that he would punch once creating a vacuum that would blow away the smoke (this is after Kenshin attacks with his strings), revealing Ayato, Kenshin, and the troublemaker. Kyousuke would be silent during the genin’s speech. This kid is rather good to still be a genin. His attitude, abilities, and wow what a chakra strength. The queensguard was beginning to probe Kenshin’s chakra for more information, perhaps he would talk to Tehniyet after taking in this guy. I mean she did just promote a kid to chuunin who was completely out of his league. Shina was probably already having a good laugh about it, but Kyousuke didn’t find it to be funny if Hoshi was to be strong they needed capable chunnin ninja and this Kenshin guy was capable.


Of course, his students were doing well too. They had progressed a long way, but they in his eyes were not ready to be chuunin. Perhaps in a few weeks’ things would progress and they would be as strong as Kenshin. 

WC: 415

Miyamoto watched with disbelief, his friend was injured without a doubt on the ground.  The silver haired Kenshin had taken control of the situation as Kyousuke raised himself and Miyamoto into the air on his summon.  What in the world was happening, he had unlocked his clan jutsu, he had won day...now he was in the air...he fell to his knees beside Kyousuke as the world around him seemed to fade out.  It was not vertigo, nor was it tunnel vision, but as his vision faded out he could hear the voice of Worr.


“Don’t give up now Miyamoto...there is much work to be done...Miya...Motto”


Then there was darkness, no sound, no sight, nothing.


Visions of his journey began to burst forth.  The training with Kyousuke...Shiro...Ayato.  The missions...the fighting.  This world was indeed about who was stronger, there was no slacking, and since coming to Hoshi and letting his guard down as he made friends he found himself slacking.  There were still the visions, and Miyamoto was diving deeper into his memories.  Fighting while on the road, fear of being captured, fear of starving, and the fear of the wild beasts.  Was he really meant to be something in this world, he could have just settled as a simple child at a simple academy, but instead he chose a life of hardship and death.  Did he really choose it though...why continue if this world is made of monsters like this...what was the point of it all when you were too weak to fight back.


Then the visions of something deeper in Miyamoto’s mind surfaced.  He could have saved his family time, killing his grandfather on the road would have been easy to blame on an animal.  Wanting to actually hur Shiro just because he was better than Miyamoto in a simple sparring match.  The kids playing ball in his backyard, he could have beat them all to a pulp for being so foolish as being a normal person that actually had a life instead of training.  In the waterways he could have killed his targets, and even more worrisome he WANTED to kill them.  He wanted to end their lives for being spies, for making him see visions of a past that he did not want to believe.  Even now, his inner self wanted nothing more than to kill everyone below him save for Kenshin and Ayato...but what if they interfered.  The wolf needed to die, the queensmen that thought it wise enough to follow a dumbass should be punished with death and their families exiled.  The darkness turned blood red as the thoughts stayed in his head, the visions were there, killing...ripping them apart...melting their bones.  Why was he thinking this, it was not like him.


Outside in view of everyone, he had fallen back on Mama Dough as his body became red hot as the heat was intense enough for Mama Dough to react by moving to shrug Miyamoto off of her shoulders and down he fell.  Miyamoto landed on his back in the water, it was not deep but it submerged all but his face as he was still breathing.  The Temple of Hephaestus ended as he his body returned to a normal hue, steam rose from the water as the flowers seemed to dry up.


Back inside Miyamoto knew of nothing going on during the battle except that it was still happening.  Inside he was drowning in his own thoughts, thoughts of what he wanted to do.  How much he just wanted to be normal, and how much he wished deep down that maybe it would be better if he just died here.  It would limit stress on his family, the village would not have to worry about some unstable shinobi…


What if he just gave up...

WC:658/5,575

He thought he was a goner when the fiery claws rained down at him. The feeling of helplessness coiling around him like a snake. He didn’t become a shinobi to stay safe. He always said that to himself when he was scared. And it worked to some extent; he found himself level headed enough after witnessing the adversary’s transformation from a man to a monstrous bipedal wolf. But when the beast roared and the howling of terror engulfed the Water Gardens, Ayato felt his legs grow numb.  The beast attacked him and the usual sharp-eyed and well trained Hyuuga found he was slow and sluggish unable to keep up with the black whirlwind’s movements. The terror took away the one thing Ayato had confidence in himself, his fighting skill.

But the zombie seemingly unaffected, hell he even seemed fascinated from the idea of facing a creature out of a storybook leaped into battle ready to take advantage of the opening that the werewolf had given to him.  Maybe this was Ayato's reward for all the sacrifices he had made up until now; to work hard, to challenge his limits every single day, fight against all odds to become a shinobi. Take it easy for once since he wasn’t getting the job done, let someone else do it for him. But it certainly for the young Hyuuga wasn’t cold water to his wounds. He felt weak, pathetic as if he was a damsel in distress that needed rescuing. Yes, he was a Hyuuga, of blood that traced back to the heroes from ages past. But the name was more of a burden than everything else.

Before life could cut him some slack Ayato was used as a human shield or a punching bag, via a substitution technique executed by a mindless beast to receive a palm thrust that would mess up his entire body system in one go. That wounded him deeper than the claws or fangs of the beast ever could. As those sharp black claws would be launched at the as of now paralyzed Genin, for a moment, just a split moment, he had one of those ominous images the human mind plays on the host when it finds itself in a desperate, hopeless situation. That was a premonition of his death. As if he was in a dream. A short dream but at the same time vivid and real. On the ground bloodied and beaten wishing he could cry for his dead mother, the hope of meeting her again one more time giving him solace and comfort. Perhaps then the hallucination of leaving the realms of the living and joining that of the Pure Land of the deceased would transcend into reality.

Death, it was life’s only promise. It is known. And Ayato had decided when his time came to die, he wasn’t going to be like those whose hearts were filled with fear, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. He would die like a hero going home. 

A veil of darkness covered his eyes; he had closed them it seemed.  In the end, he found himself scared of death. Along with the terrifying growls of the werewolf, he heard his skin sliced apart like cloth, yet he couldn’t feel the sensation of pain. Perhaps he had grown numb, unable to feel anything due to the loss of blood. The wet and the warm blanket of blood on his face and hands but even then for some reason, he was still breathing. Was he alive, was he dead? He couldn’t tell which scenario terrified him the most.  

Ayato perspective of scenes continued, this time with a dream he had before. One that he did his best to bury within the sea of memories that swirled around in his head. But no matter how hard he attempted, the same scene would always resurface whenever he was in the face of danger. Reiji Hyuuga rising from his grave, his face was a dark cracked ruin, white maggots burrowing through his rotten flesh. How his uncle pointed at the hole on the left side of his chest. The blood on the bleached out flak jacket was black and crusty. The piercing gaze of his pure white eyes feeling with the same malice in death as it in life. And by then Ayato knew the answer.

Ayato opened his eyes and gasped for air. The scenery in front of him confused him. He still couldn’t tell if he was in the realm of the living or the dead. A curtain of dust and smoke had enveloped the world. He tried to rise to his feet but he found he had no control over his body and his head turned to the side instead. His eyes swept back a forth, catching a glimpse of a figure looming above him.  It appeared to be covered in blood, swollen unrecognizable, hardly human.  The sight terrified him, for the figure appeared to belong to Reiji Hyuuga. Unable to turn away Ayato peered closer, realizing the blood was not black and crusty but bright red and wet.  

Mother looks like you'll have to wait a bit longer before I can see you again. It was better this way – hopefully, by then he would have grown into a man worthy of her praise, that wouldn’t be scared of a dead shitty uncle anymore.It was all thanks to the scarecrow, taking Ayato’s physical suffering for his own. Did he have a death wish, or did he get drunk in humanity’s altruistic juices the same way others did with wine? Putting your body on the line, risking your life to protect someone who you don’t know and smile in the face of death was absolutely ludicrous. But in the end, it wasn’t Ayato's skin that was ripped apart or his blood that sprayed upon the Water Gardens. 

The living Hyuuga's thoughts were interrupted when he heard a familiar name spoken from an unfamiliar voice in a deep and sullen growl. In the chaos, he had not noticed his sensei arriving. The one who some claimed to be the strongest man in Hoshigakure. It was due to this strength that he received praise and respect from fellow citizens. However, this factor didn't spare him from being targeted by the werewolf’s menacing gaze. 

=====
 
The hulking beast’s arms thick like tree trunks were bathed in blood up to the forearm. The smell of iron danced in the beast’s muzzle along with that of moisture and dirt from the smoke cloud.  The albino, covered in blood from head to toe lashed out pale hands in slicing motion towards the werewolf’s wrists.  The werewolf with enhanced senses wouldn’t be able to react in time due to the presence of the shinobi hiding amidst the smell of blood and dust, masking his presence. The hands turned into swords from ability similar to the chakra infusion, began to tear through blackened skin and thick bones, taking away the beast’s most terrifying weapon in a gruesome fashion. And the wolf screamed, loudly into the night as a gust of wind cleared out the dust cloud. The beast now with stumps where his hands were as second ago, turned its enormous head around, the sharpest fangs flashing at the bloody ragdoll with a speed of 65. But before the albino’s head was ripped apart from the rest of his body, he executed a hand seal and spit a sticky substance from his mouth that encased the werewolf’s muzzle, negating the beast’s attack. It appeared the beast’s distraction; no rather his selective attention was his downfall. That and the ragdoll unpredictable decision to ignore his self-preservation, and look for the welfare of Ayato initiated the counterattack.

The zombie started his speech with the cold tone in his voice showcasing empathy of net zero as if to intimidate the beast. But what was more interesting was the final part. Of how he was just like the werewolf once, preying on everyone. "I have learned from my past mistakes and grown stronger from them...and now...I choose to defy my own nature and protect the very people I once preyed on” The beast was captivated as if it understood every single word that came out from the mouth of the shinobi, even if normally the words wouldn't reach him. But they did. It remembered the nights of full moon where he along with his brother’s haunted elks, hares and goat herds that hopelessly ran in circles at the sight of their unnatural predator.  How the raw meat in was always soft and juicy around the belly. But a wolf feasting on the raw flesh of an animal was no different from a noble cutting his favorite medium rare steak upon a silver plate. No, the hunching beast’s dying shame was something else. And the words of the zombie reminded him of it.

The transformation of the werewolf began to disperse that moment, reversing the process from before. The muzzle shrank and the fuzzy mane withered, slowly reverting into a human face. The sticky web that temporarily sealed the jaws of the beast fell to the ground due to the difference in mass. The bones that previously pushed through the skin and leather armor with chain mail underneath sub-elongated back to normal. The darkened flesh and muscle frame shrinking back to the size of an average human.  And the human was naked, save for tattered silk underwear that covered his manhood from public view.  The man who was once a wolf had many injuries upon his body, but other than the two stamps from where his hands would be, all of them were old ones, engraved into his skin from battles of the past in similar fashion to those of the albino.

His back met the ground with a loud thud and he flinched in pain and cursed loudly, but never once did he took his eyes way from the silver haired ninja. “Yeah I know you have a big sad story from your so tragic past.”   The Queensman said with a shrug of his shoulders followed by a grunt of pain from his phantom limbs. Mastering the strength in his voice he spoke again. “Well listen to this vigilante; it is after admitting what we are we can get what we want. The blood of the beast feels amazing, empowering, hell even inspiring. I know how human flesh tastes like; I even seem to prefer my meat moist. But the worst thing is I know how babies taste best.” The yellow eyes, the only part left from his bestial transformation seemed to become watery as he pressed on with the battle of words. “I know my sin and I will regret it to my dying breath. But don’t go on lecturing me, because it takes one killer to know another. I could smell it in you, the blood of those you had slain. Every man who has crossed your path for real is either dead or doomed to die soon. You are no hero, you are a fraud. And this City needs to be rid of the likes of you." The olive skinned man had a long pause, from how his chest caved in and expanded out suggested it was more to catch his breath rather than wait for a response from the stitched albino. Even if there was one, he had said what he wouldn't bother debating any further. He made his point loud and clear. Something fell from the sky and landed on the surface of the water with a loud splash. It appeared to serve as an awakening of sorts for the Queensman, his expression shifting, a dark grin forming on his lips. “Alas, our conversation must come to an end. This Queensguard is obsessed with capturing me. What neither of you realizes, however, is that we are at war. And in times of war, you kill your enemies you don't take prisoners. That is why you are losing." He turned his head to face the red-haired behemoth, riding atop his slug. "Go on then take me to your beloved Queen, Lord Snow. Sounds like a wonderful idea. She means to give me a scold before she sets me free. That’s how she deals with what you call treason. If it came from a man of my stature at least." The red haired behemoth would have gotten a good look at his face by then.

WC - 2092

“Kid, what are you doing?” Kyousuke yelled jumping off his slug to go catch Miyamoto falling into the water as well. He would grab the floating genin and throw him back onto land before getting out of the water himself.  “Crazy, what do you think you are doing, you could have got hurt!” Seeing as Miyamoto was unresponsive he would simply turn his attention to Momma Dough. “Are you okay, girl?” The slug nodded she had already healed the burn a mere moment after it was created. “Good.” The ninja would say having now missed part of the conversation through the muffling effects of the water.
 
After that, Kyousuke would walk over to the downed Ayato. “That should were-off soon. Get it… Cause he’s a werewolf.” The queensgaurd didn’t laugh at his own joke instead he just made sure the ninja’s injuries weren’t too severe and walked over to Kenshin and the untransformed wolf. The person whose fingers were just cut off had to be in pain, judging from the howl earlier. Kyousuke picked up the chopped off pieces of the guy and held them in his hand. “Good work, not only did you beat this guy but you kept your comrades alive. If I could promote you I would. Sadly though…” He would pause making some seals before plunging his fingers an inch deep into the were-wolfs body numbing some of the pain created earlier. (Chakra Anesthetic) “I cannot.”
 
He would then turn to the wolf. “Well, sir Florent if we are going to talk of monsters it is a good thing I am here. They used to call me the berserker when Hoshi was formed, I couldn’t control myself. But, that changed. I think it changed, because I found people I care about and wanted to protect.” He would look back to his two students with a slight smile before putting his hand onto sir Florent’s shoulder. “And that includes you too, the ninja of Hoshi will protect you whether you wish to be protected or not. I hope this incident has made that clear.”
 
A loud “caw” would sound as a crow circled overhead, before landing on the queensguard shoulder. Seeing the paper, it was of a higher quality and penmanship than Kyousuke was used too. He would open the letter quickly getting blood along the edges. “She wants me to go where?” The ninja’s face became happy and frightened. It was a mission to bring back Akihana, but to get her he would need to go to Kumo. He rolled the paper up and placed it into one of his pouches.
 
“Kenshin, sorry to leave you with this mess. Could you take the wolf to the hospital to get his hands reattached and then bring him to princess Tehniyet? I’ll take care of these two.” He would scoop his students up one in each arm before using his wings to take flight. Once, he was a few meters above he would say to Kenshin. “Also, make sure yourself and Atem guard Tehniyet. If the princess has a problem with it tell her it is under the queensguards orders that she be protected from sir Florent.” With that he would fly off to Shiro’s house.
 

Once, at the chuunin’s door he would write a note. “Give these boys a full psych eval, treat any injuries, and well have fun! Thanks, Kyousuke Snow.” With that done he would fly off towards his home to collect supplies before heading towards the gates to meet up with Arashi.

WC: 588
TWC:1373
Claiming: 1373WC towards Momma Dough, 12AP)
(Exit)

Miyamoto was still contained in his mind as he knew nothing of what just happened. His body said to keep fighting, his mind just wanted rest.


“If we just let him rest, we can finally get reprieve...we can rest, perhaps he can too…” The voice of Worr spoke in his head as if it were looking down at him.

Miyamoto felt the sensation of himself opening his eyes but instead of seeing the water gardens, he was met with the sight of Worr standing over him as he laid there.

“If I just gave up, then what would that leave...my mother...my grandfather...my whole family...everything that they have done...everything that was sacrificed to get me to this point will have been for nothing. I cannot rest yet Worr...there is still so much to do...and too little of a time to do it.” Miyamoto said as he stood up, everything in his head was blank as if a canvas being prepared for painting.

“I understand, but you are no normal kid, you have Terumi blood and that means that you either have to be all in at all times, or not at all…” Worr started with his speech but then he twitched a bit as his voice turned deeper. “However, if you just give up...then perhaps Hoshi can find an ACTUAL shinobi worth training instead of some book smart little wimp like you…” Worr twitched again as he stared at Miyamoto. His face turning to a more concerned look. “What...what is happening to you Miyamoto...your mind is splitting like firewood being split by an axe...why?” Worr asked.

Miyamoto watched as his vision of Worr became distorted as it spoke of him just giving up. Then back to it’s normal self as it looked at him concerned. He sighed and looked scared as he walked to Worr, with saliva stuck in his throat it was hard to even breathe at the moment. HE stuck his hand out at Worr, the vision became distorted again as he saw the visage of a figure draped in all black with a hood over it’s head. Miyamoto hesitated as the figure turned it’s head and smiled a large wild toothy grin. Miyamoto’s hand stopped right before touching the shoulder of this strange version of Worr, but as the lump in Miyamoto’s throat finally went away he closed his eyes and touched the shoulder of Worr. There was a bright flash and then he heard it. Kyousuke’s voice and the sound of water as he felt the coldness of the air on his wet body. He opened his eyes and there he was laying on the ground, and after looking around he noticed he was beside an injured Ayato and in front of a door that had a note attached to it.

With a quick movement Miyamoto took the note and marked his name off of it before putting it back against the door. He did not want to be looked at like a weirdo again...He looked down at Ayato one last time before muttering sorry and quickly leaving the area. His eyes full of tears as he arrived home at his room as he noticed food already waiting for him on the bed.

WC:543/6118
[EXIT]
[CLAIMING:
Temple of Hepheastus, Lava Fling, and 1118 words to moving Earth Spear, also 30 Stats]

"I have one question for you, I care not if you answer but I am curious nonetheless...who do you truly believe this city truly be better off without...you or I?”

The garden was full of strange creatures; a wolf, a zombie, and a demon. A counter-attack came from Kenshin to the werewolf’s claims, which from the very beginning appeared to want to be on the front foot of this battle. Now that the actual combat was behind and the adversary was soundly defeated all that was left apparently was a collision of verbal dialogue between the wolf and the zombie. Clearly a conflict of interest by all means but to this point it felt more like a pissing contest. No matter the case, this battle scattered the moment the handless man turned his attention, Kyousuke Snow.

The werewolf’s display of power before was great with a sense of terror but in the end underwhelming. That imaginarily fail-safe security measure, the slug Kyousuke Snow had summoned known as Mamma Dough was the catalyst. Imaginary in the sense this situation was handled as long as the slug had entered the Realm of the Heaven country from the border of space-time. Momma Dough is trained well in the healing arts, so be as rough as you need. What was left unsaid was better understood, the slug healing prowess applied also to everyone on their side as well. But Ayato and perhaps the albino who put his body on the line would have gone on to meet their maker, if not for the former's own healing abilities. But it Kyousuke’s actions that distracted the werewolf long enough for the silver haired ninja who was hiding his presence amongst the smell of his own blood land an attack that settled the fight.

The naked man attempted to rise to his feet, long, dark-olive colored calves trembling like feathers in the wind. He grunted, his brow twitching in fret and pain. Without a doubt, it was quite the struggle to lift himself without the necessary help from his arms. He appeared to be confident enough in himself as if he had an invisible barrier around his person, protecting himself from the behemoth’s punches that were capable of blowing a hole into any man’s chest. Well except for Kenshin, but some may suggest that Kenshin organism and body function did not belong to that of the average human. None of this makes sense but the world stopped making sense a long time ago.

Kyosuke Snow went on the face the situation coolly, first addressing the stitched albino and congratulating him on his exploits. “Good work, not only did you beat this guy but you kept your comrades alive. If I could promote you I would. Sadly, though…” He would pause making some seals before plunging his fingers an inch deep into the naked body of the adversary numbing some of the pain inflicted on him during the battle. The Queensguard was aware of the werewolf’s action but he appeared to have no intent on engaging in a battle with him or bring physical suffering upon his person for harming and attempting to kill his students. Though Ayato had suspected his merriment was feigned. He could not be so oblivious to the unrest around them. But he understood it was men with the rank and responsibilities of his mentor who always believed in putting on the brave show.

“Well, Sir Florent if we are going to talk about monsters it is a good thing I am here.” This was a rude awakening to Ayato. Knighthood is a rank and honor given to warriors who perform exemplary service for a lord or the realm. Its members are known as knights and use the title "Sir". He knew this previous experience on shadowing a Queensman, the high ranked officer was a knight yet Sir Allar Reem was thrice the man than any of those present today. So Ayato on the back of his head did not discard the possibility to find a knight among them, even if they were a bunch of” lowly” Queensman. Yes, it wasn’t the title of “Sir” that Kyosuke used to address surprised Ayato but the name afterward. Behind the royalty supporting them, making up their armies there are the major houses, some firm in their loyalties others biding their time eager to cross their liege lord and play the game for themselves. House Florent one of the oldest and more powerful houses in the Country of Haven. 

From the beginning something was amiss. Queensmen attacking shinobi didn’t make much sense in the first place. In a city full of religious individuals who are supposed to be scared of chakra, believing it is cursed, believing it to be the power of demons and shadow binders. Ayato himself went as far as to provoke them with a display of this cursed power hoping it would scare them off but it didn't have any effect. He was puzzled by this the whole time but somehow he brushed it off as this fellowship of Queensman deciding to face their fear outright. The adversaries didn’t look like much, and in the end they were not. All of them including their apparent leader took one or two blows to dispatch. All but him. Florent was the worst written story of the day. Yes, he was dressed like a lowly grunt, donning an armor of patched leather, a shirt of chainmail underneath and on top of his head a rusted iron half helm, exposing the lower part of his face, something which made his dark grin cut even deeper. But everything else about him from how he acted to how he fought even was off.

One thing was for sure, harming a noble is different from harming a bunch of lowly grunts. And this was bound to build a much stronger case against the shinobi. Kyousuke Snow a Queensguard familiar with the inner circles of nobility within the City of Haven he could instantly recognize who the werewolf actually was. And more importantly, understand mighty thin ice the shinobi were threading on.

Kyousuke went to talk down Sir Florent about the altruisms of life, and neglecting one’s preservation in place of looking after the welfare of others and how it was this brought true solace to his troubled mind. “They used to call me the berserker when Hoshi was formed, I couldn’t control myself. But, that changed. I think it changed because I found people I care about and wanted to protect. And that includes you too, the ninja of Hoshi will protect you whether you wish to be protected or not. I hope this incident has made that clear.” Were his exact words, while keeping a calm, polite and maybe even friendly tone in his voice at all times.

Then Sir Florent’s mouth twitched “That it? I’m disappointed.  Quite the berserker you prove to be, oaf. You mean to promote that thing…whatever he is supposed to be. Those two brats, might be I killed both what would you do then I wonder?” He opened his mouth, to breathe in air as if to take a roar on terror to blow them all away like he did in his bestial form but this time instead of a primitive growl came rough, rasping laughter. “Well, no matter. As it happens from your touching speech I’ve reconsidered. From now on that’s just what I mean to do with my power. Protect a bunch of ugly peasants and their whelps. Say, make my horse a Chuunin. He never shits in the hall and doesn’t bite more often than most, he deserves that promotion.”

A crowd had started to amass into the water gardens, a flock of all sorts of people. The young, the old, the rich the poor, ladies in their silk gowns and beggars in their rags all sorts. Their eyes gazing at the queensmen who laid knocked out on the ground, the handless Sir Florent, the stitched ragdoll and the behemoth of Queensman who had already started making the preparation to wrap things up.  Ayato could feel the unkind eyes upon him, dull resentment behind the line of flesh. I like this not one bit. Ayato thought.

A few of the voices raised a cry “Kyosouke Snow! All hail, hail the protector of our Queen.” No surprise for Ayato’s mentor find love from the commoners, his exploit were well known in the village. Kyosuke Snow; a boy of humble origins rising through the ranks of society and eventually becoming a sworn shield to the Queen. The tale of Kyosouke Snow was the people's favorite when they were deep into their cups. But for every man who picked up the shout a hundred kept their silence.

The same time, the Queensguard lifted Ayato and Miyamoto as easy as if the were bales of hay and threw them over his massive shoulders. He was nearly seven feet tall and his arms were thick muscle. He had done this before once, back when he Ayato injured himself in training. Then and now the Hyuuga wondered if the hunk would shrivel up as small as elderly people do when he was old. It did not seem likely even if Kyousuke Snow lived to be a thousand. The behemoth then sprouted long wings from his back. Even by shinobi standards that were quite a peculiar display. Yet Ayato dismissed this as another technique from Kyosuke’s vast arsenal of jutsu a man of his level was supposed to have. 

Witnessing the summoning of wings from Kyousuke's shoulder blades, triggered something. People in the crowd were pointing, pushing and cursing each other and the shinobi. A roaring thunder of rage and fear and hatred that engulfed the Water Gardens from all sides. “Demon!” Someone screamed at Kyosouke Snow while Kenshin was petted with words like “freak” and "abomination”. From their perspective, Sir Florent was a hero who stood up to freaks and they amputated him for it. Did they do not see him transforming into a werewolf at all, or did they simply choose not to?

Sir Florent turned to face the stitched albino, lifting his arms for all the world to see. “You asked me before; who do I think the City is best without. There, now you have your answer.”



WC: 1816

(OOC: Florent Exits with Kenshin, claimants coming afterward.)