Night One.

With the stars sparkling, the sky glittered with long dead heroes; their corpses gleaming as they led the way to salvation beyond the expanding fields and looming trees. Occasionally, a shooting star would disrupt the peaceful sky, its flickering form descending towards earth, and Tosatsu would watch it keenly, his eyes alight with the same fire that surrounded that hunk of rock. It always warmed his soul to see something so beautiful aflame, falling, crashing, and then dispersing into nothingness.

Licking his lips as his eyes scanned their surroundings for threats, the chūnin silently prayed for something to happen. As it stood now, the air was still and although the bird did not cease to sing its song, it didn’t seem to attract anything entirely unsavoury. Thus far, he had only disarmed and eliminated an unsuspecting bunny – which he promptly ate after charring its cute, little cottontail over a nice, open fire. Smiling at reliving his dinner, Tosatsu couldn’t help the way his mind was wondering. He was bored out of his mind out here in the field and although these people were certainly talkative, the chūnin definitely did not want to get closer to any of them if he did not have to; their obsession with his feathered cargo was more than a little worrisome.

At that moment a shrill shriek filled the air. Turning his eyes towards the carts that were slowing to a stop, the panther let out a sigh of annoyance as he realized that the scream was actually a horrific mangling of his own name. Quickly moving towards the front of the convoy from his previous position by his cargo, Tosatsu flipped over a horse to see what the fucking problem was.

Out front, Totoloco – who he was pretty sure let out that girly scream -  was running around like a chicken with its head cut off as he attempted to fend off a lumbering bear that was making its way towards the bird with a large stick. Not bothering to let loose more oxygen, the man flicked open his pouch and removed two kunai before pushing Totoloco behind him with a drawled, “Could ja just can it for a second, Owner-san? We don’t want your screamin’ to bring in anymore predators, eh?”

Now Tosatsu, considerin’ he was a decent weapons-user, could have gone all Rambo and gotten close to the bear and battled him with his bear [haha, get it?] hands and a dagger, but since he wasn’t into that hero shit, the man simply eyed his target before letting loose a kunai and flinging it with deadly [in]accuracy at the admittedly huge target. The knife wedged itself in the fleshy shoulder of the bear, causing the animal to rear up in its anger and charge forward. Flinging Totoloco to the side so he wouldn’t get mauled, Tosatsu held his ground as he turned around to face the bear, ducking below its massive paw to get underneath it. Using his second kunai, he drove it into the stomach of the bear, aiming high before using the animal’s own momentum against it to gut it. Blood seeped from the open wound, intestines threatening to spill onto him as he rolled out from the animal, but he didn’t pause to weep over the loss of his white jacket and instead got to his feet.

The bird continued to sing even as Tosatsu felt sharp teeth snap around his ankle.

Looking downwards, he eyed the wolf pup that seemed to be using his ankle as a chew toy. Luckily for him, the leather ankle of his boot was a hard target to gnaw through and as he stared at the cute creature that diligently tried to reach his flesh, he was caught off guard by a flying form that smacked into his chest, flattening him. Later, he wouldn’t admit to being distracted by an adorable, fluffy thing, but as it stood and he laid, the panther was in the dirt – with a big, ol’ mama wolf on his chest.

She was all teeth and claws, something he traditionally didn’t look for in a bitch that he laid with, but he appreciated her straightforward attitude. Grasping her bottom jaw and directing her muzzle away from his face with a gloved hand, the man let out a small grunt as a flailing paw cuffed him in the face. Seeing stars, the shinobi quickly used his free hand to punch the predator in the snout to disorient her before grasping her head with both of his hands. Turning sideways, he used the momentum of the movement to slam the wolf’s head into the ground repeatedly; his movements blurring with each repeated hit. The animal’s cries faded off into quiet whines before they dispersed altogether.

Letting out a breath when the bitch went limp, the man rolled onto his back. Trying to reorient his head, it took him a moment to remember the pup that had been latched onto his leg. At this point the poor thing was nosing its dead mum. Getting to his feet once again, the shinobi contemplated if it would be better if he simply killed it. Without its mum, he wasn’t sure how it’d fend for itself in the wild, but at the same time, Tosa wondered what killin’ the little thing would do to his soul. There wasn’t much of one there, but even he would feel bad breaking a pup’s neck. Frowning slightly, he decided to ignore the problem for a moment to deal with the one near the cargo he had heard earlier.

Leaping over one of the wagons, he let out a disgusted grunt as flecks of drool flew off his shoe and hit him in the face as he released the tight tuck he had utilized to dismount back to earth.

Fuckin’ gross.

This is SPARTA.

“Get it off! Get it off!”

“It’s attacking my fac- AH!”

Screams of pure terror filled the air, obscuring the haunting tune of the bird, as bodies of distressed circus performers ran in circles, clawing at their heads and bodies like rabid animals. Blurred shapes seemed to be appearing all over their bodies and it was only when one flew at him, did Tosatsu recognize the beady eyes of frightening rodents. Letting out a shout of his own as the vicious squirrel attempted to claw his eyes out, the man threw his arms up to protect his face, praying to whatever deity was out there to end this nightmare. Scars were bad-ass, but he certainly didn’t want to ruin his money-maker.

Blindly, he made an attempt to grab the wringling figure and throw it off, only to let out a girlish scream when tiny, sharp teeth of death penetrated his jacket and tore into his silky flesh, “Iyeee!”

When he’d look back on it, he would rather die than admit to releasing such an undignified sound, but due to the circumstances and the potential to become a rabid shell of frothing madness, he’d say the shrill yell was warranted. Wrenching the creature from his head and tearing some of his hair out while he was at it, as the shitty animal grasped onto it with surprising strength, the chunin chucked it at an unsuspecting fellow victim. He didn’t even pause to assess the damage as freedom was too important to waste, but the screams of pain that seem to follow did not sound utterly promising.

Looking on with wide eyes at the chaos these usually furry, adorable creatures were creating, Tosatsu flung a leg to the right to release himself from the evil clutches of another woodland monster before making a break for the cage. Ideally, he would have preferred to hide and wait out this disaster, but watching as a clown ran by with five squirrels mauling his face and another attached to his soon-to-be lady parts, the shinobi felt a small obligation to protect his fellow victims and not leave ‘em in a lurch. Releasing a senbon from his pouch, it flew with alarming accuracy to pin a leaping squirrel to a nearby tree. A sense of righteousness filled his veins at the small victory, erupting in the form of a warrior battle cry straight from his diaphragm.

“You think you can come into this caravan and threaten me? Ha! This. Is. MY BIRD.”

A few echoing screams of passion filled the area as Tosatsu seemed to have inadvertently reminded the men and women that were fighting for their lives that these creatures were just as mortal as them. Knives emerged and the circus freaks surged forward with renewed vigour, eviscerating the poor rodents with vengeance.

Cackling wildly, Tosatsu loomed over his impromptu army; they would be eating well tonight.

Pissed On.

Hitting the deck hard, the shinobi let out a curse as he avoided the end of a rather pointy branch. He wasn’t exactly sure where the man had gotten it as they were in the middle of an open field with absolutely no trees in sight, but considering the aggressive manner in which he was being assaulted by it, Tosatsu didn’t exactly have the time to puzzle it out. Rolling to avoid a jab at the boys that was far too close to home, he snapped his legs tightly together as he escaped; intent on protecting the unborn children that he didn’t plan on having. The guy just liked having his options open.

’Enough of this shit,’ Tosa thought; he was tired of this game and the inadequate opponent he was placed against. Planting a forearm to support him, the chūnin stopped rolling, whipping his leg out in a low kick to take out the enemy’s chicken ones. The crazy fuck went down in a heap, his ability to withstand a hit nonexistent due to his lack of training. As his ass hit the dirt, the panther pounced, landing on the annoying circus worker with a growl that would have had lesser men shaking in their boots. Slamming the blubbering man’s head into the ground with enough force to create a satisfying sound, Tosa smiled darkly as he looked down upon his prey with a predatory gleam in his eye. Now that the idiot was contained, the shinobi was ready to open the bowels of hell and give him a sweet ol’ lecture before a wetness reached the seam of his pants.

Glancing downwards, he let out a grunt and scampered off of the worker with a few choice words. Before him, the man was now crying hysterically; tears chasing one another down his cheeks as he attempted to cover the fact that he had soiled himself in fear. Utterly disgusted the chūnin moved forward to kick the fucker into next century, but mentally pulled himself back before more damage could take place. Unclenching his fists, he took a calming breath that didn’t help at all before looking at Totoloco, his eyes demanding that he take over the situation. Like a startled deer, the circus owner shifted towards his hopefully fired employee and fell to his knees beside the man, “Oh, Atiru-chan! How could you do this to me?”

Wailing would have been a polite term to describe the racket that was leaving Toto’s mouth, but considerin’ that he was covered in someone else’s piss, Tosatsu was not feeling at all generous. Shuffling towards the bird in hopes of tuning out its owner by replacing his noise with a different sort, the chūnin let out a grunt as he collapsed onto the ledge of the cage. The peacock-bird-thing merely cocked its head at its new companion and the panther swore that he saw smug amusement fill its eyes. The damn thing knew it was the reason the worker decided to turn against everyone and nearly stab him to death. Glaring daggers at the insensitive cad, he spoke loudly, pulling a kunai from his pouch to clean under his nails in a nonchalant manner, “You know, I am just craving a taste of bird right now.”

Hearing it squawk in indignation, he slipped his arm through the bars rapidly in a half attempt to break its neck. Obviously he wasn’t truly going for it, considering the bird was his assignment, but it made the tightly wound chūnin feel a little better. Ever since he started this mission three days ago, he had been nearly mauled by a bear, bitten by wolves, attacked with a stick and nearly developed rabies by rabid flying rodents. Well, they glided, but still!

Claiming his arm back before it could be pecked to pieces; the man leaned against the bars and sighed. He still had a day left to go, and now with this employee that suddenly went rogue and attempted to steal the cargo, he had one more thing to keep his eye on.

Just one more day of travel, he reminded himself. Just one more day of these crazy, eye-watering idiots, incessantly crying birds, and a boss that he was pretty sure was hitting on him. That bum graze was not subtle.

Taking another breath, the man pushed himself from the cage, ignoring the keening that had become a staple sound since they began traveling and made his way back to the pissed employee. Totoloco was still preachin’ to the choir it seemed, so without preamble, Tosatsu grabbed rope from the supply wagon and proceeded to hog-tie the employee. He ‘accidentally’ elbowed the bastard in the nose causing him to bleed, but with a quick, apologetic smile, the chūnin wrenched the man to his feet and said, “Sorry, employee-san. I just can’t seem to control these ol’ chicken wings.”

Cackling, he threw him into the back of a random wagon, ignoring his pleas, and turned back to smile at the owner who had abruptly stopped talking when he realized that his audience had been taken away. The shinobi's lips were forced into a shape of pleasantness which really just made him look constipated, but Tosatsu was hardly deterred, “Owner-sama, shall we continue?"

Fight or Flight.

The looming figures imposed their existence on the traveling troupe. Their large, intimidating shapes obscured the dwindling sun that was fighting valiantly against the growing moon that cleared the horizon to decorate the sky. Its power was limited as the rays of its nemesis still dominated the molted blue, but as the sun continued to fall, shadows were cast across the maw of rock they were about to enter, creating monsters where nothing previously stood. Several members of the caravan crossed themselves in wary signs of protection, but with the eerie song of their wares alighting their imagination, they did not feel solace.

Tosatsu grinned.

The air around him was electric, the euphoria he was feeling at nearly completing this stupid mission fueling his blood with fire. His fingers clenched and unclenched, his toes curled and uncurled as he readied himself for dropping his cargo at the front gates and freeing himself from the insanity he had been surrounded by since the start of this godforsaken task. Between the assaulting animals and overfriendly hands, the shinobi was practically prancing towards the admittedly intimidating entrance of Iwagakure. That alone made him question his sanity; if he inhaled enough craziness, would he develop a faulty mind as well?

Pushing that disturbing thought to the back on his mind to better deal with reality, the panther eyed the darkening surroundings. At this point, once they finished walking through the man-made walkway that was smoothed out between two jutting mountains, then they would finally be within sights of the village gates. It was relieving to know that they were so close to their destination - perhaps only an hour of traveling left to do – but it did nothing to calm the tension in his muscles. Regardless of how close they were, Tosatsu wouldn’t put it past Lady Luck to once again deal him snake eyes. Throughout this entire mission, spontaneous encounters erupted around them like a vicious volcano that was tired of its slumber. Rather than lava melting his skin, he had furry creatures assaulting him that regularly would sit on the sidelines and do nothing.

Perhaps there was a full moon, or somethin’.

Rather than look towards the sky in which he knew a cresting moon sat, he eyed the real cause of all his problems vindictively. The bird continued to wilt in its cage, singing the same depressing eight notes in varying order over and over again. When he closed his eyes to temporarily realign himself, all he could envision was that blasted sound that plagued his mind and chased away his dreams. Scowling unattractively, he imaged quelling that sound absolutely before grudgingly moving away from it to better control his bloody urges.

As the caravan continued its slower-than-a-snail trek through the mountains, Tosa couldn’t help but fight the inadvertent shiver of danger that raced down his spine. Withdrawing a kunai inconspicuously, the shinobi fingered the tip for a single second before releasing it quickly at a shadow. The ambiguous form collapsed to the floor in a heap, the trickle of liquid accompanying the scuttling rocks. The horses pulling the wagons neighed nervously, but the panther paid them no mind as he swiftly closed the distance between himself and the masked intruder. Pulling the dark cloth from his face, it revealed a young man in his twenties, his eyes unmoving as they stared at their killer. Frowning at the assassination and thus making him utterly useless for interrogation, Tosatsu discarded the body easily before turning his attention back to the startled circus workers.

“Keep movin’,” he barked, his eyes not sparing them any additional glances; the iced orbs scanning their surroundings studiously, “Don’t slow down and keep heading for the gate at the end of this road. Owner-san, send your fastest runner on ahead to forewarn Iwagakure that we are under attack.”

A single masked man attacking a caravan of this size did not make any sense. There were obviously more villains in play here than he could see and it simply wouldn’t do for them to be taken unaware. Withdrawing another kunai, he watched closely as the caravan was spurred forward, flipping onto the top of the cage for a better vantage point, and if he was lucky, to be seen as a target. It would be much easier to defend the large group if the main attackers were focused on him, rather than stopping the motion of the troupe as they continued to close the distance between themselves and the village. From his position, he saw Totoloco’s chosen man making a break for it towards the gate, grasping two knives in his hands as he ducked and weaved with agility that the shinobi was secretly envious of.

Abruptly, Tosatsu ducked low when an incoming windmill shuriken flew over his head. He watched, enraptured, as white strands of hair fell listlessly, before kicking himself into motion and flinging the kunai in the direction of the shuriken. Already, the large weapon was heading back towards him for a second assault, but he was ready this time. Withdrawing piano wire, he slid to the right to avoid the hit, but at the same time threw the toggle handle of the wire through the hole of the shuriken. Quickly, before he lost it, he grasped the handle, tying it together quickly before flinging it in an aggressive arch and once again letting it fly. The windmill shuriken was not an unfamiliar weapon to the man, but he definitely wasn’t as well-versed in distance weaponry.

As the shuriken flew, the piano wire whirring out of his pocket like a fishing rod, the man occupied himself with turning to face the oncoming water dragon. Not bothering to think and moving purely on instinct, he slammed his exposed wrists together, completing the seal, “Iwa Ware Gyutto.”

The earth seemingly erupted upon his body, encasing it fully in tough armour moments before the water dragon made contact. The dirt melted, but it did not disperse beneath the powerful attack so Tosatsu inwardly categorized away as B-Rank or lower. Letting out a grunt as the impact was rather painful, the man turned his head in the direction it had originated from and surmised that the target had most likely already moved. At this point, the caravan was in a tight space where his techniques would be limited, lest he feared hurting some of his charges. The water dragon had blown through one of the wagons and had soaked the prized bird who was now wailing its terror in earnest. Hissing at the disadvantage that he was facing, Tosatsu’s mind spun quickly.

The best thing he could do was reveal his opponents to him so that he could stop fighting blindly. He had hoped that the piano wire that was attached to the shuriken had come as a pleasant surprise to whoever the asshole was that had initially thrown it. It’d be such a nice treat if he had been sliced to ribbons.

Thinking quickly, the shinobi let out a few choice words under his breath as he readied himself for his next attack. Traditionally, Tosatsu was a support fighter. His current situation did not cater well to his traditional style of fighting and if his opponents continued to keep their distance and attack from afar, he would tired far too quickly to be of use to anyone. He needed to get closer. Marking the terrain, he knew that these men had to be above him where his eyes could not strain to see their shadowy figures. They had obviously learned from their previous friend’s mistake.

Needing a distraction technique to initiate movement, the panther clenched his fist tightly together, concentrating his chakra and activating his next jutsu. For a moment, static seemed to gather around his hand until suddenly, it erupted into a lightning bolt. The power sizzled in his hand, sending wondrous charges of elation through his system before he released the bolt at near random above him. Tosatsu doubted that he would hit anything, but by using raiton, he would be able to light up the area upon him and thus, expose his opponents and their numbers.

Letting out a roar as it hit the rocky mountain, debris falling as the strength of its dominating element obliterated the rock face, he smiled victoriously at the emergence of his new toys. There seemed to be three that he could not see, so without preamble and with speed that only came with practice, he released the remaining two bolts quickly; targeting the bastards that were attempting to relocate themselves away from his ire. One of the bolts connected with an unknown nin, causing the man to stagger during his jump and plummet to the ground below. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to escape that impact alive. The next bolt of lightning missed, but not wanting to waste the enlightening opportunity, Tosatsu leaped onto the adjacent wall of his victim and slammed his palm to the earth, “Mai Barentain.”

The rock hand emerged with a vengeance right beneath his opponent. Grasping tightly onto the nin, it squeezed their fragile body tightly as Tosatsu raced after to follow it. Their hands were temporarily indisposed, but the chunin didn’t want to be too careful. Knocking him right in the jaw, he watched the man’s eyes roll to the back of his head before moving on to the final target only to see her back as she escaped over a ridge. For all he knew, it could have been a ruse, so keeping his eye out, he headed back towards the unconscious man. At this point, the caravan was merely a dot in the distance, and with the sole member still left, he was wary to leave it unprotected for long. So breaking the jutsu and gathering the rather heavy man upon his back, Tosatsu began closing the distance between himself and the circus.

It didn’t take long to catch up and as he jumped upon the top of the irate bird’s cage once again, he noted the emerging figures of Iwagakure shinobi ahead. They easily maneuvered through the lurching rock, taking up positions at varying points of the troupe to secure it. Eventually, a sole body landed in front of him and with a quick nod at the woman, he thrust the dejected form of the attacker into her surprised hands.

“Perhaps, miss, you know this man?”

The shinobi merely raised a brow at his forced pleasantness and surveyed the unknown man instead. Shaking her head in liu of a verbal answer, she slung him over her shoulder just as easily as one would a sack of potatoes. Blinking in surprise over her strength, he smiled genuinely for the first time in days, “I’m sorry. I never asked for your name.”

The admittedly pretty woman just smiled at him in return before saying sweetly, “It’s a good thing – I wouldn’t have given it to you, Kumogakure-san.”

Flipping her hair, she dispersed in a shower of dust and sand and all Tosatsu kept thinking as the gates of Iwagakure welcomed them was that he was pretty sure he was stayin’ the night.

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