Seasons Beatings [Festival]

Oriton's heart began to beat faster, the sounds of screaming and yelling at the ex-guard for Kumogakure ran down the line, taking each hit as if it was a gift he was glad to receive. He was coming towards him, barreling forward like the cannon from a ship. There was no way anyone would stop his advent, his determination was as tremendous as his body, and it showed in every way. The blue-haired boy clenched his fist and swung as Nobunaga came by, hitting him as hard as he could in his arm. It wasn't his brightest idea. It was like punching the hull of a metal ship, tough as steel. He reeled back and bit his lip to prevent himself from screaming out in pain; although, it wouldn't be heard as the surrounding company was way louder.

He brought his knuckle down to gaze at it and winced, that would bruise. Maybe he would have a better chance with the next contestant. Hopefully, Nobunaga didn't take offense to that. He surely didn't feel the blow; it would probably register to him as if a fly landed on his arm. It could be taken out of context. Why would Oriton throw a punch if he knew he couldn't hurt him? Would he think that it was a challenge of some sort, a way to tell him that he wasn't scared? Cause if Nobunaga was running right at him, he'd be terrified.

Oriton steeled himself, waiting for his next chance.

Tatsuo watched almost disinterestedly as the first man finally made his way closer to where he was set up. His eyes widened slightly as he got a better look at him. He had never seen the giant man who was taking blow after blow. That meant he was a newcomer, yet clearly he was loyal to the village now or else he wouldn’t subject himself to such an ordeal. Interesting. He would have to find out more information about him.
 
Soon enough, the man had reached his position and Tatsuo struck out with a jab at his midsection. Despite his distaste for this festival, he still had pride in his village and he wasn’t going to give a weak hit to someone from the outside. At least, he wasn’t going to INTENTIONALLY give a weak hit. His physical strength wasn’t exactly anything to boast about. The man’s body was hard as a rock when his fist connected, sending a spike of pain through his own fist. Still, he wouldn’t show weakness. Not here.
 
This was his first time experiencing this festival as a Genin, which meant he would be expected to show a level of strength and endurance fitting for a member of the greatest hidden village in the world. With each person that walked by, his heart rate quickened and a more savage, primal side of him began to emerge. He was still nervous, even afraid, of the moment he would have to take his own turn down the line, but he was starting to feel a thrill for it anyways. He’d never felt this way before, so maybe it was just the mob mentality, but he felt a stronger surge of life than he had in a long time. Who was next?

As the mountain of muscle waded through the fists of the mist, Hayate began to appreciate the choice of the man as first participant even more. From his vantage point at the back, Hayate saw while a few notable blows had a slight reaction, most failed to have any effect on the man at all. He could see why the stoic figure simply walked past him on arrival. This was a man that could afford to do that. And not only were those receiving beatings able to get the arrogance beat out of them, but the one giving them were prone to having their egos put in check as well.

Some less savory types might take the beating as a given, so many against one, but take comfort in their power to dish out some pain themselves. But against this man, not even of Kiri origin, most were even thwarted at that. It was a stark reminder of each persons lack of power, and how far they were from the best. And since the man was going first, he had no way to know he was that far above average. It was a strong move that worked on many levels, and Hayate tucked the information away now that he'd have to work as chuunin. He was pretty sure he couldn't make decisions that subtle just yet, but he'd have to learn.

As the man approached the back of the line, Hayate didn't get fancy. He threw his own punch, with his right hand, at the man's stomach, from his left side, aimed to be right at the edge of where a six pack would be and not directly over any bones.

Hayate had worked hard on his strength, and usually pulled his punches a bit for most of the other ninja, so as not to cause permanent damage. He did so here as well, though only slightly, seeing as how tough the man was He wanted this man to know Kiri could hit.

He felt his mistake as soon as his offhand hit the ex-Kumo shinobi.

It was his pride that caused him to assume just because he was stronger than most, that he could assume it would always be enough. Already using his off hand, even the slightest pull of the punch meant it wouldn't really hurt Nobu. His natural assumptions about himself and his enemy had caused him to fall short. He'd have to reflect on that, and the festival was already leaving its mark on him, in the passing shadow of the form of Nobu.

But damn if it didn't also make him want an opportunity for a real crack at fighting them man. Someone who could take a punch like that? Hayate usually saw fighting as a means to an end, not something to get excited about, but for the first time in a while, he was actually fired up about an idea of a fight itself. It was a stupid idea, and he had no reason to fight the man nor assume he'd even come close, but the fighter inside him yearned for another chance to connect a punch on someone like that.

As the shinobi walked one by one, and the Yuki tried smacking each and every one, he realized something... His arms weren't the weapons he thought they were. After a dozen Kiri ninja walked past him, Nero had failed to make any visible impact. What's worse was shinobi he knew were either the ones who had walked the gauntlet and moved on undamaged by Nero, or they were close enough to watch it happen. Another year, another non-win for the newly Chuunin.

Frustrated, Nero decided he'd go next, accepting what was to come.

[Sorry boys]

With his first step into The Gauntlet, Nobunaga was immediately hit by a freight train. The short, barefoot shinobi that had acted as a guard to the Hokage back at the summit struck the Hiyu right under his raised arms and into the side of his body with enough force to bring down a mountain. But it would not bring down Nobunaga. Although, it would buckle him, causing him to grunt and grind his teeth together in pain to hold back a shout as he instinctively lowered his right elbow over the point of contact. To say that would bruise would be an understatement. Any higher and he would have a few cracked ribs to deal with. The Kaguya's punch sent him stumbling to his left, right into his next attacker. The unknown Kiri Shinobi not expecting the brute to stumble into him would simply shove him back into the center before delivering a kick to the back of his calf, forcing him forward.

Now back in the center of the formation, his right arm slightly dropped and his left arm still raised before him in a defensive position, Nobunaga's eyes locked with his next attacker. The man responsible for his being here, the very animal behind this barbaric festival, a conqueror among shinobi, a god among men, the Mizukage. His deceitful jab to the face left the Hiyu both wide open and unaware of the real attack coming for he closed his eyes in preparation for the blow to the face. Like a serpent striking its prey and injecting its venom into the victim, a fiery surge of pain burst from within Nobunaga's kidney region. A nuclear tidal wave of agony flooded his body and consumed his flesh, unimaginable pain erupting from within, crackling through his midsection, into his pelvis and down his legs. The giant mass of muscle that was Nobunaga uncontrollably dropped his left knee into the muddied ground bellow him, falling like a sack of potatoes while clutching at his side. The well placed blow had rendered him immobile and grunting out in pain. 

He was not untouchable. He was not unbreakable. He was not impervious to pain. He was not that aegis he thought himself to be. Just like everyone else in this line, he was flesh and bone and for the first time in his life he felt true physical pain. There was more to come.

Frowning in a show of exertion and clenching his jaw to muster the strength he required, Nobunaga would sink his right hand into the mud and force himself back onto his feet. He was a newcomer, a foreigner among the enemy. He could not give up here, he could not show any weakness. He must continue onward. And so he did, stumbling forward down the line as the rain continued to descend upon the dirt covered Hiyu and the other participants.

The next blow came from a short, blue haired, younger shinobi that delivered a fist to his arm. The blow hurt the one who delivered it more than it did the one receiving it, however Nobunaga was still trying to reel himself in from the previous blow he had just received. Coupled with his already weakened abdomen, the Hiyu could not rest the force of the blow, causing him to stumble into the line of bodies once more where he was met with Tatsuo's jab to the mid section. Hunching forward upon receiving it, Nobunaga would keep his stern gazed locked forward while the crowed pushed him forward, stumbling through the sloppy ground with noodle legs while he continued to receive blows to the face, chest and abdomen. Whether they were elbows, punches, knee or kicks, he could not truly tell.

Pain was only temporary. He had to put all his years of shinobi training, his years of Anbu training in the deserts of Suna into practice. Block the pain out, ignore it, take it and store it somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind. Lock it away till this shit show was over with. The end of the line was in reach, only a few more stumbling steps before he got a moment of respite.

However locking the pain away would prove to be an impossible feet as the next devastating blow was delivered and received. The short blond haired kid that Nobunaga had ignored back at the dock was up next. Although he had intentionally pulled his punch, his natural strength combined with the fact that the Hiyu was already weakened would be a combination worthy enough of leaving its mark. The punch delivered to the left side of Nobunaga's drenched body would cause the Hiyu to buckle, his torso hunching over his left side with his elbow tucked in as if to squeeze the pain away. 

The last few shinobi would strike Nobunaga in turn and alas, he reached the end of the line. Upon doing so Nobunaga stumbled forward a few paces before placing both hands onto his bent knees and hunching forward, breathing heavily. He was not going to fall here, not now. Like an old man with rusted bones trying to get out of bed without any assistance, the Hiyu would force himself to stand strait. Enduring the pain boiling in his muscles and coursing through his body, with an unwaveringly stern face Nobunaga took his place at the end of the line, waiting for the next fool to traverse the line of bodies.

Standing at the head of the line, Kotsuzui's eyes darted side to side observing the faces of all those who stood under the rain. All eyes on him, watching and studying the Kaguya as he stood. He tried not to focus on everyone except for the former Kumo nin who had just gone and was now standing at the end of the line. As tough as he looked, and actually was based on how hard his skin was after having punched him, he had only bent over and held himself up from his knees. If all those beatings did that to him, what would it do to Kotsuzui? The Kaguya closed his eyes shutting out all the faces from his view while taking in one long deep breath. Holding the cool air in his lungs for a few moments he let it all out in one swoop in an attempt to calm his nerves. It had helped, though not significantly. Finally he opened eyes, brought his arms up in a similar position Nobunaga had done, bent his knees and took his first steps down the Gauntlet hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.

Nobu had made it to the end.

That was a feat in itself, as many fell most or part of the way though, unconcious or just unable to continue. The line rarely ended at more than half its original length. But another new ninja was up, and had no way to know that. Did they think this was a hazing? Did they think most kiri did better? Hayate stretched to find himself in the mindset of the outsiders, but hadn't quite mastered that skill yet. These two were a far cry from the only other outsiders he knew, the weak konoha genin who only knew undeserved entitlement. No wonder the Mizukage chose them.

This one was skinnier, and about the same height as Hayate, though older. This time Hayate would simply close his right fist, cocking it up to his left shoulder, and attempt to swing it hammer style into the man's bicep. A blow designed not to test, nor knock over, but to leave a mark without permanent damage that would never the less be felt every time the man lifted his arm for the next day or so.

That is, if he got that far.

Grimacing in pain, the Hiyu would force himself to stand up strait despite the fact that his body was overwhelmed with pain. This was no time to show weakness, no time to show that he as a foreigner could not handle the festive event of people each other up. At the back of the line, holding his side with his opposite arm, the brute stood tall and unwavering, gazing down to the other end of the line to see the next contestant. It was the pink haired boy, the first person that had delivered a blow that actually damaged the Hiyu. In fact, he could still feel the effects of his punch, the point of contact under his ribs still throbbing. 

He could deliver a punch, lets see if he could take one.

If the Kaguya managed to make it to the end of the line still on his two feet he would meet Nobunaga has the final man at the end of The Gauntlet. Nobunaga would remove his clutching hand from his side and roll his fingers into a fist, letting the Kaguya know what was coming next. With his wide knuckled, powerful fist tightly clenched, the Hiyu would deliver a strait uppercut right into the Kaguya's gut. His bare knuckled fist would sink deep into Kotsuzui's stomach and curve up to his lungs. After delivering the blow, without a second though Nobunaga would look down the line once more to see who was next to have their ego beaten out of them.

To suffer and yet persist was a virtuous ability. Nobunaga showed his possession of this quality, one that further proved Xyxer's eye for shinobi. He could take more than a few punches and yet keep trawling through a line where the end seemed even further away with each knuckle that cascaded upon you. It was exciting to think about how he'd handle his second run, having already been assailed and to exert his energy in relieving others of the egos that burdened them.

Up next was the pink haired man he'd defeated twice, then decided to bring with him to the misty isles. Kaguya were rare to happen by these days, and yet they had once wandered the bloody shores of Kirigakure in their dozens. Oh, how times change. Once the man made it towards him, Xyxer's heel planted firmly into the earth while his other foot sprang out towards him, kicking the Kaguya roughly in the tricep and catapulting him towards the others opposite him so they could inflict their own punishment with more vigour. More ninja took their place to enter the valley of death for the ego, some capable of making it to the end, others not as fortunate, yet revered just as much for taking part.

It had gotten to Hayate's turn. a fair few ninja had gone already, though well under half. He pulled his bandaged fist into a ball, pressed against his stomach, and then lay the other arm over it, looking for all the world like an american football player trying to protect a ball as he tried to dive through a crowded scrimmage line. Regardless of the blows elsewhere, he'd try and not lose his form and keep the hand from further damage, as he had promised to even get and begruding approval to come to this.