It was his turn, the king of this chess game. The king with the power of all of the pieces. The Mizukage's body flew through the trees, each branch hidden under the thick veil of fog. He moved like a blur through the swirling mists, the moving water vapors making way for their leader before closing behind him as if nothing had passed. It was the perfect place to kill, leaving no trace behind. The sky was dark, and made darker by the clouds that lay swollen on the ground level, blocking out what little light the moon had to offer. Dagger like eyes cut a path further and further into the forest, each step memorized perfectly, allowing him to override the lack of direction sub-par individuals suffered from.

Every single plan he had resolved had been done in nothing but perfect light, revealing this as one of the final straws to his ultimate adventure. He had solved every riddle that came to him, fixed every broken piece of his own nation, and now he only had one thing left to do. Claim what he deserved. What he had deserved since the beginning. No. This was just the first present under the tree. He had many more to unwrap still. This was just the one he wanted first. A grimacing smile slid across his face, offering a deadly glow to the already demonic aura, like a snake in the grass, sitting in strike position and laying in wait for its prey.

The woman he had sent word for would already be on the move, close behind Inoshi, flinging herself through the forest with just as much speed as the Mizukage, slowing his pace to match that of the jounin who slung her body next to his. The whoosh sound of wind slipping past his ears became louder as the pair picked up speed, throwing themselves into the night. Each was cloaked in clothing that did not match anything commonly found in Kirigakure. Silence had struck them since they had left, neither finding the chance to come up with anything meaningful or worthwhile.

His body was covered in something completely unique. Something never before seen. An oddly shaped cloak Blonde hair was tossed about in the incoming wind, damp from the thick water that surrounded him. The sea blue color of his eyes were covered by a strange, blank mask, containing only dark and elongated slits for vision. A small mic was attached to the inside of the mask, matching the mask and mic which attached to the woman's face beside him, allowing for constant communication should they drop out of earshot. The man's torso was covered by a black, long sleeved cloak that covered his fingers with its length - just barely. The high collar of the cloak buried even a bit of the mask which hid his identity. An identity which wouldn't need to be hidden soon enough.

Hung around his middle was a purple and white second portion to the cloak, and finally black pants and black shinobi styled shoes with high tops. The new outfit was a prototype of sorts, and this was the perfect first mission for the shocking appearance to be revealed. The mission in which the Mizukage would claim the power of the entire nation, no longer being confined to the idiotic boundaries of the small village. He had moved beyond that now. He was on to bigger things. Much bigger things. "Remember who we're dealing with, Tsurino." It was the first thing that had been spoken since Inoshi had briefed the woman on the tactical plans.

Inoshi had started the rumors long before this night, using the event which had transpired in Kumogakure as the perfect ammunition. With another Daimyo having been killed, it was easy to start rumor after rumor of the Water Nation's Daimyo having been selected as the new target. Instantly, the Daimyo had turned to Kirigakure no Sato's resources for top notch shinobi to act as the protecting service for the Daimyo - the Water Country's most valuable man, of sorts. Of course, Inoshi had not sent men who did not allow him eyes and ears into the Daimyo's movements and choices. After the right men had infiltrated the Daimyo's trusted circle of high ranking shinobi, he had been able to be however many steps ahead of the man as he needed to scare him, sending small waves of paid rogue shinobi, and other nation's shinobi to attack in small hit and run squads.

And then, of course, the corruption of fear had pushed the Daimyo too far, forcing him to deal in illegalities with other nations, bargaining for his life, all as Inoshi had wished. And this night was the climax. The night where Inoshi could finally confront him, face to face, and call out exactly what he was. A traitor to the nation. Of course, it was all from Inoshi's careful manipulation, manipulation which left no trace. Every paid soldier had died by his hand upon returning with mission success. Even the Kirigakure shinobi had been "taken care of" after being informed of their mission, upon completion of whatever it was. Failure was the same.

Tonight, the Daimyo had conducted a secretive council with numerous lords of the underworld, seeking help which would normally break the rules. Bend the game into something that Inoshi did not want to deal with playing. All he had to do was reveal it, and declare himself the new power - of course, it was not as simple as all of that. The manipulation had hardly stopped with this night. The young Mizukage had created another potent rumor of attack on this night, scaring the Daimyo into the creation of a decoy, a decoy that Inoshi knew about through the use of his own resources, set to travel along the area of rumored attack to take the brunt of the damage while the real Daimyo was able to conclude his illegal dealings under the safety of other's lives. A valid strategy, but something that would hardly work against Inoshi of the Yamanaka. He had attacked the decoy with another of his men, Akahari of the Uzumaki, making the Daimyo think that the attack had been averted, and allowing him to rest his guard, even if only slightly, while Tsurino and himself moved in on the real target, knowing that they would be dealing with whatever was left of the Daimyo's security force, if there was any posted at such an illegal event.

Most of the chosen men were loyal to him, and only him, simply awaiting his command to do as he pleased, no matter what it would cost them. That was the loyalty of the ANBU to their Mizukage, a loyalty which was more or less unnaturally bread within the Bloody Mist. Even still, the mission was to take the Daimyo alive, as well as anyone else that may be of use to his cause. Proof. Bait. Fun.

"Obliterate their defenses, no matter the loyalty of the shinobi you'll be facing. From this moment, even our allies are nothing but liabilities that need to be cleared, do you understand, Tsurino?" He called her name without the need of a suffix, something that was incredibly personal, but something that he felt comfortable with. He knew that such an order, an order already given, would be controversial within the woman, but he also knew that she would follow it. Her loyalty was the one reason she was not also a target of his cruelty, as she had once been. They had developed a bond that was impossible to describe. She was his right hand. The medicine to his innate sickness. The men he asked her to slay were men that had already pledged their life to their Mizukage, no matter what that meant for them in the long run. They were prepared to die for their Mizukage, and for their nation, thinking that they would be remembered as heroes. Of course, no such fate awaited them.

"Out of curiosity, how does this mission sit with you, Tsurino?"

The blonde nodded, his own smile beginning to summon itself as he readied himself for the excitement of what was to come. To him, slaying his own comrades meant nothing. He did it often, so long as it meant keeping the majority safe. As long as it furthered his progress in whatever goal he was trying to accomplish. "Many will hate me?" Inoshi said, as if he found it humorous. "No. They will love me. Flock to me. Think of me as their savior. Their god." His voice sounded inflated once more. He had left his calm self, and entered the leader that he was. Despite his lack of proper morals, he had a sick since of justice that, in the end, worked for the greater good. That was what it was all about. The greater good. So long as it did not come at the total expense of the moment. "They will not know that we were here, tonight. Fear not, I can cover my tracks better than most. We kill with secrecy. I did, after all, choose to bring you. Not Hisoka, nor Akahari; both of which I can count on to make a scene." As if to show an example, Inoshi silently withdrew a senbon needle, flipping it through his fingers skillfully and out of habit more than anything else. It twirled until it was held correctly, gracefully perched and ready to be thrown. Inoshi waited for one of the unsuspecting guards to be facing him before he launched the weapon through the night. It made no noise. It could not be seen in the darkness.

First down.

The needle shot into the man's eye, slicing back into his brain and instantly killing him. "You're concern is keeping the outside clear. I want all guards down. Anyone who you suspect may even possibly know who you are - you kill instantly, without hesitation." With that, Inoshi leaped through the hiding branch and down onto the scene. Two men instantly saw him, only to also be met with sharp needles through their skulls. It was the element of surprise. Normally, such a bland attack would not work against members of the Daimyo protection party.

He had to kill in a fashion that left no holes. Should a single shinobi see that he was there, attacking, they could scream or yell. Sound an alarm of some kind. What was more, they were all connected by radio mic to the squad leader inside - a man that Inoshi knew of; the man that he was almost as excited to see as the Daimyo himself. The Nara who ran the whole protection operation - a man that Inoshi had been playing like a puppet for years. Knowing that Tsurino would follow, and cover him, Inoshi continued forward, trusting that she would take care of those on the perimeter. She was in charge of the outside. He was in charge of what went on behind the closed doors. Always had been.

Placing his hand against the over sized handle that led into the old meeting hall, he found that it didn't budge. It was locked. He almost smiled. How petty could they be, honestly? Moving like an attacking snake, his hand grabbed a kunai and slammed it against the handle with the strength of a kage. It cracked and fell off of the door, allowing the large wooden frame to swing open. Instantly, those inside turned to greet the man who they would only see as a masked threat. His eyes moved like masters in order to speculate every detail he could take in. Four men. All four had mics. Each he could identify, and each was of the jounin level. Two fire type users, two water type users.

Instantly he shot a kunai at the shinobi farthest back, forcing him to dodge instead of use the radio mic. The three closest to him all came in for close attacks - trying to utilize their numbers against him in the small space. Futile. Without flinching, he raised his hands in a triangular hand seal. "Shinranshin no Jutsu!" He spoke, his voice deadly and filled with the ability to slay. He watched the hesitation as the shinobi recognized his voice, their eyes widening. It was too late for them. His jutsu fired, slamming into each and every one of the hopeless ninja. Before they could do anything about it, they had slaughtered each other, their attacks coming in an untamed flurry, tearing each other apart with their own weapons. As each fell, he raised his hand to the mic and send a single message. "I'm in. Keep the perimeter clear. Contact me if anything happens." And so it begun.

Jutsu Used:

SCs Used:

From here, things were simple. Simply put: a list of steps which would be followed with the utmost care. Something that would ensue a perfect victory. He had long since calculated the effectiveness of the area's defenses, leaving a small area of wiggle room for those who are better or weaker than what he was expecting. It was an intermediate group, when paired against the Mizukage and his right hand woman. Sure, they were the "hand picked" shinobi, built to create a solid structure of defenses against their enemies. It was normally an effective group, but not when playing against the Yamanaka. Over years, he had weaseled himself into the group's hierarchy under false aliases, and representing false personas. He had given himself the ability to become the hand which did the picking. He picked those which would fit the bill. Elite, solid, intelligent, able to take and follow orders. And he had given them that, but he had also given them a group which was unable to work well with a large amount of variables. Essentially, he had sent the soldiers of flawed perfection. And he knew where each of their perfections lay. He had trained them himself.

Beginning a casual pace forward, Inoshi's hand twitched in such a fashion that a kunai fell forth, slipping in between his nimble fingers. Step one, secure the area. His eyes made short jerks from left, right, up, and down, memorizing the area and completing his survey of protection. Step two, lay traps and secure area. He moved without hesitation, finishing the removal of the kunai knife from its place in his sleeve. It was not alone. A thin line of silver metal wire slipped forth, and attached to it was a series of four explosive notes. Quickly, and precisely, the knife shot through the air, carving itself a place in the doors hinges.

All the while, he kept his casual pace forward.

Step three, use timing and surprise as your first weapon. His eyes flicked up as he heard the sound of running steps behind the door. They were here. The handle turned and the door was pushed open, though its movement was stunted by the kunai stuck in just the right place. Inoshi's lips curled into a smile as he watched in humor. Like in a comedy, the enemies tripped onto one another in the sudden stopping movement, temporarily piling themselves at the door's location for a couple more seconds. This was timing. With a serene look, he whispered the word "boom."


Step four, move to next location. Secure on arrival. A thin wave of smoke washed past him as he detonated the note, the wooden splinters from the wall and the door only adding to the overall effectiveness of the explosion in total. Bodies fell on top of each other, blood covering the walls, as well as the individual parts of the just-then-victims. It was not over so easily, he knew that much. As if coming from a bubble of the smoke, a shuriken attack was launched, stemming from those still alive on the other side of the explosion's radius. Rotating in a spinning motion, the Mizukage dodged the weapons, his outstretched arms splintering his fingers awry as if branches on a tree, catching the projectiles through their central rings. Such basic attacks would never work against the Mist's most powerful leader. Dropping them all on the ground, with a metallic clinging, he stood, peering through the smoke as it continued to clear. Four remained in the hallway with him, covered in the products of their fallen comrades.

The first took charge, raising a sword towards Inoshi and charging, as if to give the command to press forward. After all, they were the elite protection group of the Daimyo's personal squad. The others followed, another drawing a sword, the third clamping his hands together in seal, and the fourth grabbing two explosive kunai and remaining in the back ground. A classic formation. Lead with the two weaponry users, follow with a mid ranged ninjutsu support, finish with a shotgun trooper effect once the team has cleared. It was a concept he had designed himself, and that was its first weakness.

The first sword flick came from his right, easily avoiding it with a side step, swinging to the left and dropping down in just enough time to dodge the incoming blade attack of the second swordsmen. Rotating like a top in his kneeled position, Inoshi let loose his leg like a blender, knocking the second attacked over. Like a cat, he whipped his body up and over the tripped shinobi, pinning him to ground for just a second. They had good timing, but they were not practiced enough. They still left holes in their defense. But those holes were small. Looking up with a sadistic smile, blocked of course by his mask, he watched as the woman finished her last hand seal and inhaled as if to spit something. Inoshi acted in an instant, leaping from his crouched position in a straight dive towards her. His hands slammed against her face and swelling cheeks before he flipped over her, held up by one arm and propelled in a graceful dance. As his hand left the woman's head, he revealed the series of explosive notes he had planted on her, using the sticky texture to glue it into the kunoichi's hair. As he rotated into a landing position, he sent out a jabbing kick at her back, sending her staggering forward in a fit of water spitting coughs before she detonated on his command, exploding in a blast which took the other two with her, as well as rupturing the wall and cracking its surfaces.

All the while, he kept his casual pace forward.

Stepping through the crack in the wall, Inoshi stared forward, the expression on his face that of regained composure, and mischievous enthusiasm. Blue orbs scanned the hall, which looked empty. Though he could guess otherwise. Raising his hand to his mouth, he inhaled a large breath. Step five, secure the area. Account for different tactical approach. As he exhaled, he sent a bullet of air forward. The massive force wiped through the area, peeling the color and wood from the walls, revealing their sloppy insides. The sound of screaming pecked at the wind's noisy vortex as previously hidden shinobi fell from their veils of chakra. It was just as he had thought; just as he had trained them.

Lay mobile support outside in bulk; first response team.
Lay initial interior layer with mobile support; second response.
Lay tactical barrier in static formation; third response.
Keep heart at central with small support; last response.

It was just as he had taught them. It was one of their weaknesses. He had chosen those who excelled in the areas which were needed. Became good at whatever specificity was needed. However, what they lacked was original creation. They were not their own bosses, they answered to others. Allowed the others to do their thinking. Accepted the techniques and ideas which they were taught, and followed such orders to the death. They lacked Inoshi's most powerful weapon - the imagination. They became predictable. Easy to see through, and therefore useless against an opponent such as himself. The giant gust of wind crushed through numerous walls, tearing down the architecture as it did so.

Numerous bodies which were previous hidden under the guise of some jutsu became visible as they died, littering the site of destruction with their split apart remains, crushed and pounded until they lost their human shape. It was slaughtering, not fighting. They had no chance, and they died without so much as a single hope. As the dust cleared, and the particles stopped dropping from everything which had been destroyed, he looked into the heart of the base clearly, staring through the hole in the wall his jutsu had created. How natural. Create a design to defend a specific set of locations, give it to the enemy, teach them to master it without question, let it boil over for years, and then exploit the known weaknesses. It had been a process which took years, but it was finally paying off.

All the while, he kept his casual pace forward.

Stepping through the last hole, and into the heart of his mission, he looked upon familiar faces. Across from him stood the man he had personally planted as the group's head. A tactician from the Nara clan who had proven his leadership skills to be above average. To his left sat Kirigakure's Daimyo, two body guards stationed behind him. He knew both; had long since memorized their files, and stored away all of their useful information. Dealing with them would be as easy as the rest. To his right, on the ground, sat a group of politicians and crime lords with heavy political influence over the Bloody Mist's underworld. Leaders of the black market. As he rose, his hand rose to grab his mask, removing it in a graceful sweeping motion. The next part was perhaps his favorite.

Looking around, he watched the faces of each and every soldier fall. Even the Daimyo seemed to admit defeat, knowing that he could not win against a man who ran every inch of his life. The body guards stepped in front of their leader, obviously loyal beyond the line of morality. "So it is you, Mizukage-sama. I had my suspicion." The man said, partly bluffing, as if to puff out his size against his opponent. Inoshi simply smiled, dropping his mask to the floor. It didn't even make a solid noise; instead, it splashed as it lay in a pool of blood and matter, originally from one of the numerous victims. He motioned around him at the desecrated corpses. "And this is how you prepared?" The Nara flinched. "Though, I'd expect just about that from someone with your level of talent. In times of need, falling back on the teachings of those more powerful than yourself." Inoshi looked onto the Daimyo, obviously disappointed. "So this is what you resorted to, Daimyo? Too scared to rely on your own Mizukage? I suppose it's only natural. You're starting to be part of a rare breed." He paused, taking in a diminutive glare towards the illegal additions to the otherwise official meeting. "Allow me to add to your extinction, sir." As he spoke, the two body guards tossed their kunai at the Mizukage, otherwise out of moves. He caught the first, and used it to deflect the second, sending a small shower of sparks onto the ground below.

"Don't think for a second that you can get away with this, Mizukage! Someone will find out!" The Nara's voice was becoming an annoyance. "Oh really? Someone like the Daimyo? Or what about his head of defense and mission control? You. Any of his dirty customers?" Inoshi gestured towards the other men in the room. "You see, there is no one alive to find out, Shikako. You have not changed my strategies at all, just copied them completely. But that's useless against me. Your perimeter was weak, unpracticed, and without morale. Your first interior layer was thin and weak, without any variety. You tactical defense barrier was straight from the book. You added nothing new, and that was the crack in your otherwise flimsy armor." He watched as Shikako broke under the weight of his Mizukage's presence. It seemed to add weight to the air. Choke those already short of breath.

"Of course you all have to go, too." He said shortly, with a matter-of-fact tone. The Daimyo sputtered into a series of whimpers. Inoshi responded with a heavily sarcastic sympathy face, his eyes flaring as he watched the anger and frustration boil from within the older man. "You have not won yet, Mizukage!" The Nara spoke boldly, falling into a battle ready stance. "I beg to differ." Inoshi spat just before snapping his fingers. The clicking noise rang throughout the room, instantly ensnaring the man in his illusion. Shikako's eyes rolled back, and he bent over in a coughing fit, hands at his own neck as if feeling and messaging it in desperation. He looked at Inoshi with horror filled eyes, in awe at the man's sheer power, and the gap in between them. Falling to his knees, gaping for a breath, he fell onto his face. Inoshi ended the genjutsu with a smile as he looked towards the Daimyo's body guards. Each faltered back a few steps and tried to ready themselves. Shaking, they jumped into battle, engaging Inoshi head on. Each were dispatched instantly and without struggle, added to the pile of corpses around the room. As he tossed the shinobi aside, he threw a barrage of explosive notes through the crowd of dirty politicians and criminals. Each reacted with major alarm, standing up and trying to pin themselves against the back wall. As the loose paper explosive notes fell through the air, Inoshi quivered his arm in such a way to summon a senbon to his fingers.

Tossing it, he stabbed an explosive note through its core, and sent it flying towards the back crowd, exploding on impact, and shattering one of the men's head. In terror, the others ran forward onto the other seals, and met a similar, explosive death at Inoshi's command. The only two left alive in the room, aside from himself, was the unconscious Shikako and the weak Daimyo. "This is the part where I make you obsolete, Daimyo. Anything you want to interject with?" His voice sounded cocky, and arrogant. Proud of victory. "I will not cooperate with you, Mizukage! You must know this! You'll never ge--" Inoshi interrupted, growing tired of the man's voice. "I think you'll find you lack whatever it is required to resist... cooperating with me, Daimyo." The rest happened quickly, Inoshi leaping like a tiger at his target, snaking around his body in a pattern of complex maneuvers, threw the old man to the floor, knocking him out in the process. His hand dropped to the man's neck, checking that his target was indeed living. He had finally won. Activating the intercom radio in his ear, Inoshi opened his connection with the Kaguya kunoichi. "Wrap things up. I'm done here. I'll meet you back at HQ." Inoshi grabbed his mask, secured it once more, now the only part of his attire covered in blood. He still had a lot of work to do. Taking Shikako and the Daimyo in his arms, Inoshi jumped from the hole he had created in the wall with his last explosive attack, exiting from the rear of the conference building; a space vacant of enemy patrols. He would leave the rest to Tsurino. Leaping into the distance, he ran through the trees, two very important hostages with him. Making sure he was not followed, Inoshi took numerous evasive maneuvers to lose any trackers, just in case.

Overall, this was only step one.

Jutsu:

Special Characteristics: