[Fox] David and Goliath.

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

The silence before the storm. It was such a cliche phrase to describe a moment of tension, that claimed a man's heart, as his mind raced on, remembering trivial matters and yet also things of great importance. No task was too hard for Kurisu. He was the best of the best. A master in his own right. Even those thoughts, as arrogant and prideful as they sounded, did not have a great effect on the very man, who bore that very name.

The mahogany-haired individual stood tall, overlooking an area that would appear innocent to any, who knew not of the truth. Kurisu had been relentless in his hunt, having collected a large bank of information in record time - courtesy of his village and that damned Raikage. Regardless of personal convictions, that intel and the bits and pieces he managed to get out of his personal allies, had saved him many hours or even perhaps days of tracking for this was where she would be. Hiding in the Moon Country, a goddess among people. An S Rank Criminal whose power could shake the very skies and the humans who walked below them. And then he was here. A lonely Jounin, his outfit hiding that very fact. Yet it was in his blood, the power of lightning running through his veins. His defiant eyes sung of pride and power, and a determination to bring this Mission to an End. Any end.

The Nara was hard to read, his face metaphorically becoming a wall that served to block off any undesired emotion - a cold facade, behind which, the mind worked hard to control and dispose of feelings. The task that he was given was far too dangerous for the youth to allow himself to let his thoughts wander. No. He had to be completely focused, and giving anything away - even a slight show of concern - could do so much more than jeopardize the Mission. His life was on the line, and that very thought could demoralize anyone. If not for Kurisu's self-confidence, or perhaps, a confidence in the skills and techniques known to him, this whole story would turn out a lot differently. Yet as a successful Shinobi, fear was hard to come by - the idea was in itself, almost forgotten; the Nara's body was unaccustomed to a shiver or a cold sweat breaking out. Perhaps this experience would thus do very well, to remind him once again, what terror really was.

Clad in a long grey cloak, that extended over and hid away his Shinobi Uniform, the man proceeded to walk down the barren land, his sandals clapping cheerfully against the stone. The Nara sought to find high ground from where he could scout, and now that the village, where the Criminal was apparently located, had been found, it was only a matter of a few steps. Steps, which slowed down time, as thoughts raced on.

Thoughts of worry and excitement and regret. Plans of action. Memories.

It wasn't so late, yet darkness seemed to find shelter in the close proximity of the lone Shinobi figure. The Sun was in fact still very much in the sky, releasing a purple and dark orange hue across the land. It lit him, lit up his face, displayed a man, who didn't seem to belong. Although seemingly confident, his long stride lacked the grace that it normally radiated. What would the Criminal think of this? Would she even stop to think, or would she show her fangs and spring at him, without so much as a word exchange? Kurisu was curious. Of all the things, curiosity made his mind a place of calm - a scientific lab, providing questions for the mouth to acquire the answers for. If everything he hard heard about the Criminal was true, this day could very well become the very best of his so short-lived life.

Age : 35 Posts : 1113

Once more, Uriko Nagase found herself in the dank, wooden underbelly of a ship. Fortunately, there was little swell and the woman lay in relative comfort. Amongst a small pile of assorted fabrics, she soon drifted off to sleep. It wasn't long before her dreams took an unpleasant turn. "Running away? Change the record, girl." A malevolent voice whispered. Somewhere, deep inside her consciousness, Uriko bemoaned the fact that she was yet again denied a good rest. But she hadn't the strength to wake up. Having fled the Fire Country after running into a Konohagakure patrol, it had now been weeks since she'd had a good rest. "You're losing your touch..." The voice hissed, smugly. "Shut up, shut up!" The woman yelled, clutching her head. "Easy, lady. We're here." Uriko blinked. The weathered face of the ship's captain looked down on her, his brow furrowed in concern. The kunoichi looked around sharply. Wooden slats, barrels and crates, a gentle swaying motion... and not to mention the musty smell. Releasing a small sigh, relieved to be back in the waking world, Uriko got to her feet.

Stepping out onto the deck the woman immediately shielded her eyes from the sunlight. It was far from the piercing brightness that usually warranted this sort of reaction, but the kunoichi had spent a good few hours in almost complete darkness. In fact, the weather was mellow and pleasant. Warm, bronze sunlight illuminated the entire island and kept both residents and visitors happy. As she crossed from ship to dock, Uriko watch the light reflecting from the lapping waves. The shimmers looked almost like sunken treasure, hidden just below the surface. The kunoichi's shoulders lowered and she breathed deeply. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself some downtime, Uriko was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of relief. Yes, she was a fierce woman, ruthless, battle-hardened and scarred. It was true that her dogged determination was well known - her cruelty too. But in what rulebook did it state that she couldn't appreciate material pleasures? Providing she kept a low profile, of course.

The walk from the docks to the village of Getsugakure was mercifully short. Tired as she was, Uriko did not want to wait long before she hit the metaphorical hay. Sneaking in was a cinch, having traversed the island and village only a few months ago. The female nukenin knew the guard routes and how poorly trained they were. Admittedly, Getsugakure was not exactly the criminal hub of the shinobi world, so they had little need for such expertise. Moving with the crowds, Uriko soon found herself in the heart of the idyllic town. Amongst such twee, tourist-oriented buildings, a powerful nukenin presence would not be at all expected. Moving to enter a large hotel, Uriko instead slipped off into the alley beside it and made her way down a set of stone stairs. Through the door, she entered a cosy - if simplistic - public house. About a score of patrons sat or stood in this area, most with their heads inclined and backs turned. It was a place to lay low, for sure. A round-faced, bearded man was washing glasses behind the bar, but noticing the new arrival, he quickly walked over to greet her. After a brief exchange of words, the woman was led to a room. Her quarters were far more enticing this time, though hardly luxurious. The barkeep made himself scarce.

Uriko began to undress, removing her item pouches first and laying them out on the small coffee table. She slipped out of her jacket and eased her tabi off. Both were placed underneath the bed. The lightweight armor came off next, flung over the the side of the room. The kunoichi was too tired to care. Her undergarments were treated in a similar fashion, until all that remained were the tightly-bound strappings covering her chest. At this point, the woman stretched her arm up high, letting her back arch with the motion. "Ah!" She gasped, enjoying the liberating feeling. A brief smile crossed her hardened features. She would finally get her rest. Uninterrupted, much-needed sleep. Inside her head, the voice echoed somewhere distant, too faint to reach the woman's conscious mind. Reaching for her item packs, Uriko unlatched one and removed a couple of miniature bottles. Holding them both up to the light, she kept ahold of one and returned the other to its container, before taking a seat on the bed. Flicking the cap off, she pressed the bottle to her lips and threw her head back. Instantly grimacing at the taste, the female nukenin cast the glassware aside and collapsed on the bed. It was a simple panacea, one to help her sleep uninterrupted. Peace. She thought silently, as her eyelids fell and her mind dulled.

But fatigue had made her careless. She had unwelcome company on the island - though had yet to discover it. The underground home would not offer the protection she needed. Her peace would not last long.

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

The stranger blended in awkwardly, his long stride out of sync with everyone else, or perhaps everyone else was not synchronized with him. Although theoretically the man moved faster, somehow, he was always just as slow as those next to him; they moved as if in a trance, as if a single body. Of humans. Perhaps it was his mahogany mess of a hair that made others notice him. Perhaps it was those sky blue eyes, that defied everything and anyone - whose gaze looked at you and yet didn't register and acknowledge what it was seeing. Instead he looked past the persons, as if in search of something that was more valuable. It was perhaps the feeling that here, among strangers, an individual was of little importance. Here where Kumo meant little; here where a Shinobi was just another man, Kurisu was no longer important. He lacked authority - authority no longer radiated from him. In a foreign land, he was but a lone wolf, lost in a forest of mystery. His Criminal was but a fox, running swiftly away from a predator, which she was not aware of. And in truth, luck was on Karisu's side, for if she knew, the fox would once again become the hunter.

The idea that intelligence could be considered a double-edged sword, seemed like an inconceivable concept, for one can never be clever enough. And yet, Kurisu, a genius of a kind, was only now becoming aware of the benefits and defects of intellect; thus, he scorned that saying very saying. A man, whose brain was capable of forming plans and ideas, and assuming and calculating and seeing, that which was not supposed to be seen; understanding unfathomable concepts, whose purposes were deduced, crossed out, eliminated till one remained - the truth. A person of such capabilities struggled so much, to understand a simple notion, since simple had never been something he knew.

Kurisu couldn't decide between the ideas, that fought so very hard to win his heart and mind, so that they would be the ones, which he decided to act out. He was a writer, as if choosing the right words to place on the page, from among thousands. An artist, whose decisions brought lines curving and bending, and cutting across the page, giving shape and form to silhouettes, which many could never conceive nor even depict. However, the wrong line could destroy the whole picture. Did he dare to choose, and then face the consequences of a decision, which did not cause the effect he sought to achieve.

These thoughts, however complicated or sophie-sticated, were blown away by a candid and lucid option, that came in the form of a man's few words. An exclamation followed by a gesture, which was ultimately what caught the sky blue eyes of the Jounin, bringing his full attention on an exchange heated words. A piece of paper was waved in front of a man's face, infuriating that very individual perhaps. That however meant little to Kurisu, who save what he wanted to see - a word that could only be pointing towards his little fox. Wanted. Edging closer, Kurisu found himself stopping the flow of people, causing the crowd around him to become disgruntled and confused by one of its participants suddenly refusing to follow the current. Instead, Kurisu moved towards the two persons, his eyes seeking to make out those fuzzy words, that could tell him, where she was. She.

"I saw here, I did, I swear" one of the man spoke, his voice strangely young, although in his appearence hardly anything spoke of youth, weakness and innocence. "Honestly, you know how those Shinobi tend to exaggerate. I'm sure this Uriayko lass, will be easy prey. And look at the money they are offering!" the younger individual worked his charms, Kurisu's eyes noticing the changing expression on the other's face. He had a Katana by his waist and a large tattoo to emphasize his masculinity. Based on body build and the clothes he wore, the Nara could only assume that the figure was but a Mercenary, a lowly thug. However even those had friends, and where one was weak, many did well to strengthen each other. The promise of gold, had perhaps the most effect on the man, who seemed to make a decision more so quickly than Kurisu ever could - the Jounin envied his simplicity.

It was within moments, that the Nara witnessed a group gather, and he was drawn to follow, for the youngster with a silver tongue, seemed fully aware of where to go. There, Kurisu would make his move, hidden, ready to strike when these... distractions were dealt with.

Age : 35 Posts : 1113

Long, fitful sleep. Were the woman awake, she would have revelled in the glorious indolence of it. Every bone, every muscle in her fatigue-wracked body thanked her for this deserved rest. Uriko, of course, was entirely unaware. She lay - somewhat unceremoniously - flat out across the bed, her face half buried in the pillow. The sleeping draught had taken full effect, despite the relatively simple formula of ingredients. Though the kunoichi was known for her ability to take life, her understanding of medicines and beneficial effects was great indeed. With the right herbs and licors, she could knock up anything from a simple sleeping libation to a powerful restorative balm. Regardless, she cared little what others thought. For now, she took her uninterrupted sleep gladly.

Elsewhere however, events seemed to be conspiring against the female nukenin. What little trail she had left had been enough for others to follow in her wake. Her first mistake had been to travel during the day. Admittedly, the Konohagakure shinobi had forced her hand but she should have taken more care. After all, even as she slept it was still light outside, the early afternoon sun dimming slightly but showing no signs of abandoning its post just yet. Then, despite having the means to fully disguise herself, the woman made no attempt to do so beyond the customary drawn hood. That and other small details had led a pair of mercenaries to just outside her current accommodation. A squabble between two boisterous males might have seemed like nothing to the throngs of people passing them by, but it was bad news for Uriko Nagase.

The men stood facing the large hotel Uriko had passed up, watching from the opposite side of the main drag. The ragged sheet of parchment they had acquired was woefully shy of information, carrying but a name, picture and reward sum. Such scraps were common outside of the 'official' channels. Uriko herself had encountered these a number of times during her... illustrious career. They were a blight on the face of the true criminal underworld and in ten minutes or so, they would lead to an irritating intrusion on a nukenin's respite. As the mercenaries settled their debate and resolved to pursue Uriko, the remainder of their group arrived. Three more men, wearing the same rough-cut outdoor garb. It wasn't a far cry from a standard shinobi uniform, though it lacked a few finer touches. ""Honestly, you know how those Shinobi tend to exaggerate. I'm sure this Uriayko lass, will be easy prey. And look at the money they are offering!" One man exclaimed excitedly, the warrant gripped tightly in his greedy fist.

With a collective shrug, the group followed the surly leader and barged their way into the steady stream of people. Some were cast aside, others stopped in their tracks. A backlog of traffic was inevitable and were it not for the intimidating appearance of the thugs, would have surely developed into a brawl. But the men cut a swath across the street and slid into the alleyway. They hurred down the cold, stone staircase and one by one, ducked into the welcoming front bar. Normal service resumed on the pathways of Getsugakure and a cloaked figure slipped carefully between the groups, treading the same path as the mercenaries before him. For where the wild dogs come to make a kill, their efforts invariably attract the lions.

Uriko's sharp eyes flitted open. Her senses were beyond excellent and she had a nose for trouble. Heavy footsteps some thirty, forty feet away. Had that woken her? No, no. She thought to herself. Impossible. She'd been awake to hear the mercenaries arrive. Something else then? Puzzled but not wanting to waste time, the kunoichi chalked it up to good fortune and got swiftly to her feet. Cursing her absent-minded discarding of clothes some - she glanced up out of the window, barely glimpsing the sun's position - some six hours ago, she sifted through her garments and quickly geared up. Adjusting the strappings on her vambraces, she made her way to the door. Uriko's tabi were designed for stealth but her poise is what kept her movements discreet. Placing her palm to the door for balance, she pressed an ear to the woodwork and listened intently.

"Where is this woman?" The thug snarled through gritted teeth. He had the barkeep by the scruff of the neck whilst the other four kept watch on the drinkers and diners. As one might expect at such a venue, they had no interest in the commotion and remained reclusive. The bartender whimpered but said nothing. It was a bold move - and far better service than Uriko had paid for. Still, she would hardly feel remorse if the man was punished for his silence. "I love it when they don't squeal." The leader remarked, glancing over his shoulder and smirking at 'his boys'. Thump. The barkeep fell to his knees, doubled up and clutching his stomach. "Nnnngggghhh..." A hand slid underneath his chin and lifted his head to face his attacker. "Where is she?" He murmured, drawing the bartender's attention to the hilt of his katana.

Pressed up against the door as she was, Uriko could not discern what happened next. Only that a soft thud of a body hitting the floor indicated the group were finished with the barkeep. Whether he was dead or unconscious mattered little, as his release suggested just one thing - the thugs had their answer. Uriko leaned back. Her face showed an expression of utmost concentration. Breathing, heavy but controlled. Shuffling feet - some of them were nervous. A brush of fabric on wood. They were on the other side of the door. When the hinges flinched, the kunoichi made her move. Thank the fates for poor craftsmanship. She thought quietly, throwing her hand against the thin wood. Her palm smacked up against it and as it did so, a wickedly sharp blade shot out from underneath her wrist and punched a hole through the door. There was no yell of surprise, only the satisfying gurgle of one man down. Uriko paused, smiled, and kicked the door open.

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

It was perhaps not Kurisu's style to act the way he did, using these naive thugs as a cover and a distraction. However style or habits played little importance today, for today was a special occasion - an exception of the highest value. Thus the Nara proceeded to follow that foolish group, his motives unknown and his role in the events to come still hanging in the balance; his mind had set itself yet again, that impossible task of planning and deciding. In the end, as his bait entered a shabby motel, the Jounin had to be fast to make his ultimate decision. It would be perhaps suspicious to enter right after the group - it could alert the Criminal to his presence in the least. Yet if he remained outside, Kurisu would lose out on the valuable opportunity that was laying his eyes on his Opponent, before she did so herself. As such with the strategic advantage in mind, the youth decided to become an observer, watching as his prey dealt with the first obstacle on its course to freedom. He entered briefly, sat himself down and looked on from the shadows as the situation unfolded.

And the events evolved swiftly. Uriko was quick to act, though the Thugs had an initial start on things and weren't very idle themselves; for that, the Nara respected his bait, even if its life span was minimal. Having shaken down the bartender in a matter of seconds, the little group of hopeful miscreants was already set on finding the Criminal herself, when - speaking of the devil - she rushed out from her room. Enraged by the ants, who sought to provoke her, the Kunoichi was a flash, a god, among simple menfolk, dispatching the group quickly - too quickly perhaps for Kurisu to enjoy the spectacle, even if a few persons around him gave the Woman a cheer or two. The speed did its work however, frustrating the man, who sat in the shadows enjoying nor drink nor food nor peace. With his sky blue irises glowing brightly, as the light of a lone torch reflected within the depths of his eyes, the Nara appeared uninterested in the situation. Fact was however, that the sooner had Uriko moved to leave with the back door, was Kurisu up and following her intently. Sure, he had given her head start and yet he could see her. Hear her. Smell her. Feel her presence... it drove him on a wild chase, that led to a Forest.

It was a mystery if the Kunoichi had known that she was being followed, for if she had, then she had done very well to hide such knowledge. However it was unlikely that she remained oblivious to the little Wolf chasing her either, who yapped his jaw with delight. Although initially faster, the Criminal seemed to have slowed down to a Human speed, a pace at which Kurisu followed carefully and yet obediently. Whether intentional or not, the Woman led the little arrogant man to a place, where perhaps he was at the biggest disadvantage - a sprawling wood that gave birth to humongous gatherings of colossal trees, which amply covered the ground and those in the vicinity, with darkness. Light was hard to come by here, although the disappearing Sun still had its influence here, and the Moon would soon be out. Hopes were still not lost.

It would have hurt his pride to say that Kurisu had lost his target, and yet as she led him deeper - the sly Fox, leaving its predator guessing and losing his confidence and initial lust more and more - he found himself struggling to follow. And then she stopped and he did so too, the distance between them being around seven meters. Feeling uneasy, his hand reached out for a pocket, where it clasped around a packet of cigarettes. With a mysterious 'click' noise, the other limb had provided him with a temporarily source of fire, which lit his drug. Having inhaled deeply, the Nara promptly placed away the packet, leaving a smokey cloud to float away from his persona. "And then here we are." he muttered to himself, a cryptic message perhaps, sounding edgy although the tone did not give away much. The comment was loud, audible to the Criminal and any, who had followed them although such was not the case. The thugs had not been foolish or rather capable enough, to give chase. She had made sure of that.

And then he inhaled again.

Age : 35 Posts : 1113

The fight had ended almost as soon as it had begun. The brutish mercenaries were a man short before they had even come face to face with their target. It took a few moments for the death of their leader to sink in, a window of opportunity that Uriko took full advantage of. After the door had been taken out of the equation, she set about dispatching her opponents with listless ease. As the last one fell against the wall and slumped to the ground, the kunoichi sighed wearily. She was not unused to such attempts on her life - but it didn't make them any less irritating. She bent down to wipe her wrist-blade on one of the fallen men's clothes and her eyes flitted over to the seated audience. They were all staring openly at her. Afraid, yes, but unable to look elsewhere. Except one. A cloaked figure who seemed to be looking elsewhere. Uriko's movements slowed right down and her eyes sought information about this stranger. He had not been in the tavern when she entered, which meant that despite the commotion, he'd followed the mercenaries in. His identity was concealed by long unassuming fabrics but most importantly - he was watching the female nukenin. Both he and the woman were taking great care to face away from each other but between the two of them, it was quite clear that through their eyes, their peripherals, their gazes were locked.

A few seconds of silence elapsed while their pretense continued. Uriko had already taken stock of the layout when she arrived and knew where and how to make her exit. Despite being below ground level, the place did in fact have windows. They only led to small bricked-off areas but these could be climbed to get to street level. Hardly ideal, but it would have to suffice. Now all that mattered was timing. The kunoichi knelt down and lifted the door she had kicked off of its hinges a few minutes ago. Using her foot to help guide it (with only one arm to lift), she lined it up with the hinges, leaving it as if it had been opened out into the hallway. But structural repairs were not on the woman's mind. The wide-open door kept her from view of the patrons and in particular, her tail. The advantage was brief - as soon as she reached the window she was in full view again. Without looking back, Uriko slipped through the open aperture and shimmied up the wall. Out onto the streets now, she pressed on ahead of her pursuer. He would be close behind and Uriko was keen to engage him not in the middle of the Getsugakure high street, but on more comfortable turf, on her own terms.

Ducking and weaving, the female nukenin made steady progress through the crowds. She knew better than to simply barge through - the disturbance would be more than enough for the stranger to locate her right there and then. As the number of people cluttering the street became more and more sparse, the woman wheeled about and headed down an alleyway. A refuse storage box at the end of the path gave her purchase to push up and reach the rooftops. Clambering up she hastened toward the village perimeter. Every time I visit, I find you running, Uriko. A voice sneered inside her mind. You disappoint m- "-I am awake!" She snarled out loud, interrupting the unwanted intruder and casting aside any attempts at stealth. The kunoichi was duly troubled by the fact that her inner demons were speaking during her waking hours now, too. Do I get no peace? She thought angrily to herself. But her frustration was soon tempered when the white walls that surrounded Getsugakure came into full view. Beyond that, the lush forests of the island and a chance to end the pursuit.

The walltop guard never even saw her coming. On instinct he turned to face the woman only to realise she was almost on top of him. The next thing he felt was a firm but measured kick on his back, propelling him over the parapet and back into the village. Uriko spared him no second thought and hurried on into the forest. The outskirts were particularly beautiful, all manner of flora and fauna flourishing in the dappled sunlight and mineral rich earth. As the kunoichi ran deeper and deeper, the trees grew taller and more broad, the plants more unusual yet less colourful and the light began to fade a little. The female nukenin came cantering to a halt at a clearing - if it could be called that. Large trees surrounded the area and scattered on the forest floor were assorted leaves, twigs and a few small outcrops of stones. In fact, the stonework resembled faded brick. Uriko's mind wandered, considering whether the forest had played home to a settlement many years ago. She was, inevitably, cut off from her musings. The soft padding of approaching footsteps could not be ignored, no matter how well the man had tried to mask them. Spurred on by the immediacy of the danger, the kunoichi unlatched a pouch by her waist and drew out five small pieces of parchment. In one blindingly fast motion, she lay each of these around the area. Two were placed beneath some leaves and mulch on the forest floor and the others each on the base of different nearby tree. Basic preparations complete, the woman settled against a thick trunk and waited.

She was not kept idle for long. A small flicker of light appeared in the darkness, momentarily illuminating a hooded face. The flame disappeared but its owner came into view shortly after, walkthrough through a small cloud of smoke. "And then here we are." He murmured, breathing deep through the cigarette. The kunoichi looked the man up and down. There was not much to assume, given that his features and clothes were covered by the long, grey cloak. He was tall and although not stocky with muscle, clearly had trained his body. Uriko caught a glimpse of reddish-brown hair beneath the hood, but little else was given away. The woman knew she would have to coax more out of him, or discover for herself when they fought. "I see there is no need to fight you after all - you poison yourself." She quipped, remarking on his habit. It was a cheap jibe, regardless of the truth in it. But the kunoichi was determined to enjoy this encounter. It had been too long since she'd run off a little steam.

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

"Oh but I only smoke socially. I felt that this was one of those moments. In fact, I would offer one to you but..." he paused, a smirk spreading across his face, betraying the man's next thought as amusing, even if only to himself. Although the Criminal's comment was fairly cheap, Kurisu's response had been largely humorous, if not cocky or outright impolite. In fact, he was indeed heavily relying on sarcasm and dark humor, to fuel and push his little joke along - it was worth the reaction no doubt; Kurisu's eyes watched calmly, awaiting the bliss that would be brought to him when seeing the woman cringe at his remarks. "You know. Could you handle it?" he asked with a devious grin, gesturing at her arm clearly - the missing limb from an otherwise perfect body. "On the other hand, perhaps you should take matters into your own hands? Or maybe I should just hand the packet to you." the jibe continued, a horrible reference to her wounds, that aimed to anger and annoy. Although his tone was childish, one would like to believe that Kurisu had masterfully adapted such a sound with the purpose of testing his opponent. After all, an angry man was a careless man; anger became a severe liability, as rational thought and planning gave way to the need and the desire to satisfy one's emotions and calm oneself down through any means possible. That and he simply enjoyed this 'friendly' banter. Since this was perhaps the only moment before everything was set into motion and the only sounds made would be grunts of effort and the names of Jutsu being shouted at the top of one's voice, Kurisu had decided to relish this chance for as long as it lasted. The fight to come in contrast, wouldn't be much fun, to be sure.

This was the first time, in truth, that the Nara was allowed to fully survey his little fox, which was slowly turning bigger and becoming more menacing by the second. Oh they grow up so fast! Another intake of smoke, followed by a discharge of gaseous waste. It was ironic how the poison he inhaled did not follow the lead of the Carbon Dioxide, which the youth was capable of exhaling so expertly. Luckily, there was no fear of the effects of a cigarette and its many relatives, for Kurisu had been truthful enough when he had said, that he was but a casual smoker. What did that say about him? Perhaps it suggested strong willpower or a control over his body and its desires. Or maybe it even implied that Kurisu felt little stress, and thus did not seek a way of being rid of it. If so, he must have been a confident man at most times. At others, like now, he felt like many other human beings - the need for calm and peace, where perhaps the mind and the situation could provide neither. Was he nervous then? Intimidated. Perturbed. Disheartened.

Uriko likewise, was a mystery with a lot of 'if's, 'but's and 'perhaps'es circling her persona, leaving a vague, translucent silhouette of the individual that she really was. Of course, Kurisu had access to data - to facts - yet when concerning people, facts hardly ever deserved to be called such, for one's personality was a piece of art, if not more intricate than a splash of paint could ever be. Interpretation and understanding varied from person to person, and as such, perhaps in the end there was no right answer. People were colours, mixed and mashed together, until a somewhat satisfying image was achieved. However in the end, behind the initial layer of paint, was to be found an unfathomable collection of colours, that remained hidden.

So what was this Criminal? She had been beautiful once, though clearly she had became disinterested and impartial to the natural human desires for attraction and allure, as once no doubt silky long hair, lost it's shine - lost it's power to enthrall others. It was simply there, and one found himself instead, focusing on the woman's eyes, which was where perhaps, the starting point to any and all observations. Her eyes were cold, deprived of warmth or feeling. In contrast to Kurisu's eyes, it felt like the emptiness was genuine - not controlled, for strategical albeit intellectual reasons. No. Uriko's eyes indeed spoke of coldness and emptiness, and one could wonder as to the state of her mind and soul, places, that could have very well been just as damaged as the vessel, which sheltered them. His data told the Nara, that Uriko was missing a limb and was scarred heavily. The idea dismayed the man, who did not bore enough battle wounds to even do so much as dare to compete with the Criminal, where physical intimidation was key. On the other hand, the Criminal had been tactful enough to cover up her body as best as she could...

Kurisu smiled to himself, as he inhaled once again, tasting the very poison the woman had warned him about. "Good job with those thugs." he spoke, casual in tone now, as the atmosphere became tense - more so, than before. "I'm ashamed to tell you that they acted of their own will." he added, as if to suggest that this turn out of events was almost wrong or improper. If there was any conduct of behavior among Shinobi, it was unlikely that Uriko would have followed it. That, and Kurisu's tone displayed no remorse, but instead, a heavy sarcastic tone, that told the Criminal a lot about her opponent. If she hadn't picked it up by now, surely she should have realized it then. The Nara wasn't that good of a person himself exactly. Perhaps evil was a far fetched word, but even if Kurisu may have been on the side of the angels, Uriko should not think for even one second, that he was one of them.

With his free hand, the boy reached into his standard Jounin Kit, withdrawing an Exploding Pouch secretively behind his back, where the Woman's eyes could not see. With the other limb, the youth was relieved of the cloak, dropping both it and the pouch alongside it, so that the sound and sight of it dropping and thus hiding underneath the material, was masked. "So..." Kurisu allowed himself to speak, perhaps for the last time, as if to finally prompt the Woman to make her move. The first move. He was largely ready, his free hand clasped behind his back; his cigarette was still lit and Kurisu did not seem willing to stop smoking just yet. Was she ready however?

Age : 35 Posts : 1113

The man stood, just as nonchalant as Uriko, some seven or eight metres away. Yet even at this distance, the experienced kunoichi could determine very little about him. That is, until he spoke. ""Oh but I only smoke socially. I felt that this was one of those moments. In fact, I would offer one to you but..." He paused and afforded himself a little smirk. "...You know. Could you handle it?" The man sneered. This was hardly the first arm-related insult that Uriko had heard, but it caught her attention nonetheless. Now she knew something of her opponent-to-be. "On the other hand, perhaps you should take matters into your own hands? Or maybe I should just hand the packet to you." He continued, each joke less amusing than the last. Batting the jibes aside, the female nukenin offered a wry smile. "Masochist?" She mused. He certainly was asking to be hurt. "I wonder, do your elders know how much you enjoy this foreplay?" The kunoichi continued, playing with all the foibles the man had exposed when he chose to taunt her. "And I don't even know your name." She finished.

This brought up another concern of the woman's - who was this man, exactly what village was he from? As far as the female criminal knew, every single main village had placed an exorbitant price on her head, so narrowing it down was tricky, to say the least. Covered by the cloak, no forehead protector or shinobi uniform was evident yet. A lesser nukenin might think little of this information but Uriko placed as much importance of this as anything else she could discover about the man. Where he hailed from told her how long and far he'd been travelling, what techniques or weapons he might be likely to use... and perhaps most critically, how agrieved his nation was by her actions. If he was of Konohagakure, then it could well be a personal matter that drove him. But if he'd come from Kirigakure, then it was just for the money or the glory. The one-armed woman had grown to understand the human psyche over the years and was well-equipped to exploit any knowledge she had. Before now, she'd even convinced bounty hunters to leave her be. Something told her this man's faith in his objective was unshakable, but there was no telling for sure. He had tracked her well and spoke with confidence. It was enough to earn him an audience with the woman, but she was not yet impressed.

Across from her, the man took another drag from his cigarette, revelling in the pleasures it provided. "Good job with those thugs." He muttered between inhalations. "I'm ashamed to tell you that they acted of their own will." The man added. Hardly a revelation. The kunoichi thought to herself. "Yes. I saw you, watching us." She drawled, lifting herself up off the trunk and standing upright. "Did it thrill you, little man?" Uriko continued, taking a few steps closer to her target. Her voice sounded playful but once she stepped into the light her features were clearly hard as stone. No longer were the pair teasing one another. The atmosphere had taken on a rather more sinister tone. The man opposite appeared at ease with this however, and the female nukenin was forced to admit he might not be so easily brushed aside. Her opponent discarded the cloak, seemingly ready to begin. Now, at last, Uriko got a good, long look at him.

The red-brown hair that she had glimpsed earlier was revealed, falling a little unkemptly to just above the man's shoulder. It framed rather more smooth features and unblemished skin than the kunoichi had been expecting, with little by the way of battle scars. Yet the man gave an impression of one experienced in combat. No matter. Uriko thought. We can fix that. She added, unaware that she'd just referred to herself as a plural. The man's light, bright, blue eyes twinkled beneath his brow as he opened his mouth to speak. "So..." He intoned softly. Kumogakure. Thought the woman, still analyzing her opponent. Curious. She sniffed, before snapping her attention back to the man. In reply, Uriko merely offered the faintest of smiles as she withdrew three senbon from a pouch. Holding them up by her face, she appeared to inspect them, her gaze drifting from one to the other. Satisfied, her demeanor suddenly changed. Without so much as a whisper the kunoichi flung the thin blades toward her target - the man's lit cigarette. Each senbon was aimed to account for reflexive dodges, in an attempt to force the stick from the its owner's mouth. Uriko's pride was at stake and she would not fight a man who had half a mind on the pleasures of nicotine. Awaiting the result of her actions, she slid her short katana from its sheath and stood ready.

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

Kurisu in turn, allowed himself to be teased, both his body and his face unaffected by the woman's words. The man was simply idle, perhaps forgetting to react, missing his cue and thus, feeling silly and unwilling to try and fix his mistake. Yes. The red head simply looked on, continuing the action of smoking as much as he was allowed to, the cigarette working magic on the Criminal's mental state. Her eyes seemed attracted to that little rod, a rod that was almost out of its controlling power, the fire closing in around the youth's fingers. What a shame that was. He simply didn't feel like he was ready to discard the drug just yet.

And then it happened, a declaration of war, which Kurisu could only raise his eyebrows at. A mixture of surprise and other, largely unrecognized feelings, dispersed across his face, as the youth grimaced only momentarily at the Woman's choice of a weapon. Three weapons to be exact - all as thin and small, as the very cigarette, when it had been at the prime of its power. Uriko seemed transfixed by the premise of releasing these projectiles at his person, and the danger was imminent more so, as time passed by. Not a lot of time - mere seconds, turned into minutes, as the air around them readied itself for the fight to come.

Before, when Uriko, as sly as she was, had tried to close their gap, Kurisu reflected the action by taking a number of steps back, nonchalantly placing himself behind his discarded garments. The act of throwing away his cloak seemed like a dramatic choice, more so than a strategical one. As such, it was unlikely that Uriko, the woman, felt the need or saw fit to understand more about the choice than met the eye. Which would become her first mistake, Kurisu mused, as his body stood seemingly unprepared, in the face of three little separate dangers.

Then she released her weapons, and everything was set in to motion.

With a fluent reaction, as if it had been practiced, Kurisu was bending, reaching out for his cloak with his free hand and jerking it upwards, so that it slashed away at the Senbon; it was likely, that he had planned it all along. The motion of course, had been intended to break the projectiles path of flight, disturbing the air around them and as well as tangling, trapping and catching the weapons in the thick fabric. Whichever had resulted first, it seemed like a minor detail in a bigger game. Fact was, that the senbon were disturbed by the cloak and had failed to reach their destined target; instead, they were thrown into the depths of the garment, where they remained, idle and unwanted by their owner. However, nothing was over.

When Kurisu had bent down to pick up his discarded piece of clothing and use it in a stunt best described, as matador-like, he also intentionally revealed the pouch, that he had previously dropped down. As the cloak began to rise, the Nara's foot gathered momentum and made contact with the bag of goodies, a New Year's Present of fireworks, which flew straight for the Criminal. Kurisu had been careful enough to allow the Woman's eyes to take in and be lured by the motions and brilliance of the fabric and the cloak, stealing away and discarding her senbon, as if they had never been thrown. Thus he hoped, when his cigarette hand made an awkward single seal, that Uriko would have been distracted enough, not to dodge the package in time.

Boom!

Not awaiting to see the result, Kurisu grasped the cloak tightly in his free hand, whilst his body retreated backwards, with his eyes fixed on the smoke and temporary fire, located where the woman once stood. There was enough distance between the two, to spare Kurisu any effects, except for a rush of energy and air, that could only further help his escape. However, he did automatically look away at the sound of the explosion, thus missing the moment, which was so important. As a result, it was hard to know if she had been affected or not, yet either way, any movement of hers would surely be picked up by the man, who finally stopped. He paused suddenly, his body as if threatening to break before it quickly adjusted. He was still in a clearing and yet here, tress were more common around him and behind, causing long shadows to fall plentifully around his person. A deadly advantage. Having increased the distance between them (or rather, between himself and her old position) by about two or three meters, Kurisu allowed himself the pleasure of inhaling once again, although his stance was once again, largely lax. He dropped the cloak to the ground and his hand simply fell to the side of his body, where his Shinobi Kit was easily accessible.

"My elders are not interested in what I do, dear Uriko. They only hope that you're victorious today" the youth spoke out loud, perhaps making little sense. Yet to a Criminal and a one who seemed so perceptive, the comment could have very well meant everything. From the cynical sarcastic tone, to the very idea behind the youth's words. His elders didn't want him alive... What had he done to do achieve such? Why did he even carry out their task, if he was aware of these intentions? Would the Woman pick up on that?

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Age : 35 Posts : 1113

It came as no real surprise to Uriko that her opponent dealt with the senbon. In truth, she'd sent them toward him almost half-heartedly - confident that they'd break his contact with the cigarette, but ultimately just a means of getting things underway. The kunoichi had enjoyed their little war of words, but she was an impatient woman and quite frankly, had little else to say to the man across from her. Or perhaps it was that she revelled in the thrill of battle, in the joy of the kill? It had been said of her before. The woman was indeed as ruthless as her reputation, but her actions were born of something far more primal. Uriko could no longer remember a time when she did not feel... empty. Such an obtuse expression but the female nukenin could think of no better way to describe it. When she hunted, when she murdered, Uriko finally felt that pit in her stomach fill. Like a starved animal's long-awaited meal, the satisfaction was beyond any and every other experience. It had become something her very soul ached for. But the sensations grew weaker and weaker when she killed in quick succession, so naturally, Uriko learned self control. Nowadays, she savoured the deaths of her targets regardless of whether she enjoyed it or not. It was a matter of survival. The kunoichi was no different from the more successful predators of the savannah - she had to make them last.

And here, before her, was prey. The man had been slowly, casually retreating as the pair talked. Only now did his subtle movements come to fruition. He moved quickly, perhaps faster than Uriko had anticipated, leaning down to the ground and sweeping his cloak up from the ground. The cloth arced across the front of his face and batted the projectiles away. The female nukenin moved fast, expecting the counter. A flick of her wrist sent her katana flying out of her hand and toward a tree trunk behind and to the right of her opponent. As the blade sank into the thick bark, the woman's hand had already formed the seals. A good thing too, because the offending shinobi had left a personal gift at Uriko's feet. The pouch detonated. As the initial wave of heat washed over her, the kunoichi felt nothing more as she was pulled away in a different direction, her jutsu having taken effect. Landing deftly on the ground, she immediately threw up her hand to shield her eyes. The blast was intense, far greater than a single tag could produce. A quick glance to her left and her gaze met that of her opponent's, who had wisely backed off as well. The pair paused, waiting for the smoke and debris to settle. As it cleared, a scorched but otherwise intact katana lay some distance away. It was buried in the ground at an unusual angle, having been tossed aside by the blast after Uriko had used it as a substitute.

The combatants returned their attentions to each other. "My elders are not interested in what I do, dear Uriko. They only hope that you're victorious today." Came the rather delayed response to the woman's earlier question. "Cute." The kunoichi sneered back. "We can find a space in the bingo book for you, just under my own name." She continued patronisingly, wondering if the man was trying to buy allegiance with his crimes - whatever they were. "And what would they call you, little man?" She added, curious to know her opposition's name. It was one rule of battle that the woman liked to observe. She preferred to know the names of her victims, though quite often she hadn't the temperament to stop and ask. Regardless, the fight continued. Using Kawarimi had closed the gap between Uriko and her target, but it wasn't the quickest of techniques to approach with, and the man had enough time to react accordingly to her presence.

But Uriko was fast. Faster even than most shinobi of equal rank. Utilizing this speed now, she pushed off from the ground and darted in towards her opponent. As she got closer, the woman let her feet lead and her body slip backwards, so she was almost sliding along the forest floor. Quick as a flash, she whipped one leg up and across, aiming to strike her target soundly on the jaw. Whether he blocked, dodged or took the hit, he would be forced in one of two directions - the one-armed warrior was counting on it. Allowing the momentum of her strike to take her into a backwards flip, Uriko landed softly and steadily, her hand already holding a single seal. "Kassei." She whispered, and one of the hidden tags erupted in a cloud of thick, purple smoke. Though her last vision was of her opponent being engulfed, Uriko couldn't rule out that he'd evaded her attack and moved into a more favourable position. Her hand dropped, but her fingers remained ready, twitching slightly as she waited.

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Age : 28 Posts : 3145

"Clever girl" the youth commented shortly, watching as the woman used her weapon as a scapegoat, which took on the brunt of his explosion. Although that rendered the tool useless for the most part, it had successfully reduced most or even all of the damage that he had intended for the Criminal to experience. As such, the resulting situation had simply left the two back at square one.

However the circumstances had changed. Uriko seemed to be excited by the prospect of danger; perhaps seeing him land the first hit, made her very black blood boil and aroused feelings of anger and adrenaline. Thus, perhaps it had been wrong and yet inevitable, that it would finally come to this. Sooner or later. No more talking, or at least, speech was as much a luxury as the remaining amount of blood in his body, or every living second, which he would do well to treasure. This was no light opponent. And he was bitter still, at the reasoning behind this encounter. It was a sad thought to die, when he had little to do with the process of deciding the burial ground of his body, soon to be scarred and left to the crows. Though Kurisu shook off all those thoughts swiftly, making a mental note to spend more time in the future practicing his focus, stability and confidence. Each of them, as paramount as the other, in the case of bringing himself to think of such thoughts. Hence, as a result, more training would be required in the feature to hone the mind to perform as well as the body, which was more than comfortable in its current combat state.

The mahogany haired man watched the criminal run at him, faster than himself and many others, perhaps the fastest of them all - all who the Jounin had ever faced. Still, the distance had worked as well as planned, allowing Kurisu to drop into a fighting stance, with his non-cigarette-holding hand raised into the air, as if readying to strike at the woman. Perhaps this was a combat style he knew, or otherwise, maybe he sought to mock or honour the fact, that she herself only had one arm. The only remaining explanation was that he was still smoking. Ah. Foolish boy.

When the woman came upon him, she had left perhaps less time than the Nara had estimated, though that meant little to the young strategist. His raised arm was a conduit for Chakra of a lightning nature, and the necessary amount had already been gathered, invisible under his skin where it rampaged freely, so that he was simply waiting for her to strike. It was a risky procedure, but as the youth saw the foot raising into the air, his eyes would have told her of his little satisfaction at the choice. With little resistance, the youth managed only to allow himself a slight movement of the body, before the limb connected with his jaw, not as accurately as it was intended, but causing pain nonetheless. Pain that felt paralyzing and numbing, shooting a pang of hotness and distress to his brain, which notified the man in command of the damage it was going through. With a sour smile, the youth noticed that the kick was not of great strength, harming him only as much as he would expect from any other Shinobi. Thus it was with a calm calculation, that the man had decided that Uriko had traded strength for speed. A wise choice perhaps.

It was as if a delayed reaction, a desperate attempt at blocking a faster being, with which the youth got his charged-up hand to tap the limb. He had originally intended to block with his arm, and thus transfer the Lightning straight away, however the speed complicated things, causing him to pass up the opportunity, only to land the late-block on a leg that had already struck him; an action reminiscent of a pathetic attempt at swatting away a fly. However, the action did nonetheless result in physical contact which he required, allowing his raging chakra to surge from one flesh to the other, a flesh that was unprotected, unaware and unused to the energy. It was a little triumph for him. She would soon experience the effects, in fact, not so long after she landed away from him with her fanciful pirouette. The man watched with scorn, expecting her body to be affected by his Jutsu any moment.

And then his thoughts were dragged away from the matter at hand, as an explosion took place. It was on instinct that the youth sought to cover his face, however the sight of a mysterious purple gas and the realization that he was unhurt, on top of the knowledge that Uriko was once a Medic, fitted together into a nice puzzle, that did well to explain and inform him of great danger. Annoyed at himself, the youth ceased to breathe, and jumped away quickly, noting with little happiness, that the gas was slow to spread, and thus had not reached his face. Yet his skin burnt and Kurisu was frustrated enough to finally do, what the Criminal had wanted him to do. With a look of resentment, he released the drug in his hand, jumped back, and with an all mighty intake of air, the youth released as if, bullets of highly compressed air. All flew towards the direction of the smoke. Her previous position. Then the pain accumulated and the youth allowed his body to shout obscenities at him, as both his jaw and his lower flesh had stories of agony to tell. Adrenaline, the wisest of all, shut them up completely, and allowed the youth to focus, watching at the smoke with an unusal silence that could only tell of the severity, with which he now treated this fight.

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Age : 35 Posts : 1113

No sooner had Uriko pushed away from the her opponent than a hot, sharp pain ran through her body. She was even brought to one knee by the shock and the strain it put on her muscles. It was a familiar enough sensation - Raiton... The woman thought angrily, her lip curling as she tried to suppress any sound. Instead, she chose to endure the discomfort in silence, rather than give the Kumo-nin the satisfaction of hearing her in distress. A lesser warrior might have succumbed to such a technique, but not an S-ranked shinobi. Not one so hardened and durable as Uriko Nagase. She had spent years honing her body to accept all kinds of damage, inflicting many physical, chakra-based, mental and infectious injuries on herself over the years. It had certainly contributed to her current 'rough' appearance but in terms of practicalities, the training had been time and energy well spent. Sure enough, her muscles soon relaxed and the kunoichi got to her feet again. As the pain faded and became more of a dull ache, she began to smile. Perhaps this stranger warrants a little of my time. She concluded, glad that she might actually get to 'let loose'.

Across the way, thick, violet plumes of smoke had just burst forth and engulfed the area around Uriko's opponent. Silence followed. There was no way to tell what had become of the man but the female nukenin was not so naive as to think a simple poison tag could finish this fight. Making the most of the thick gas obscuring the two combatants' line of sight, she ducked behind the cover offered by a large, old oak tree. The bark was gnarled and rough, but strong and steadfast. For a fleeting moment, Uriko felt a sudden sense of affinity with the ancient giant. Brushing such thoughts aside, she swiftly ran through a couple of seals and held the final shape. "Dokusei Bunshin no Jutsu." She whispered inaudibly. This technique required a little focus from the criminal medic and her opponent's actions for now went unnoticed. The woman had a range of internalized toxins to 'offer' her target but settled on one of the most deadly for him. From beneath the folds of Uriko's clothing, an unusual shape emerged by her shoulder stump and back, both growing at an alarming rate. Her body seemed to contort and within a couple of seconds the two had reached human size and split off from the woman. Their facial features developed a moment later and excepting the sickly, pallid-looking skin, they were the spitting image of the nukenin.

Elsewhere, unbeknownst to Uriko, her opponent had broken free of the poisonous fumes. Having finally discarded the offending cigarette, he drew a deep breath as he formed seals. Hidden behind the tree, the kunoichi's senses were put on alert when she head the intake of breath. One of the two clones disappeared, finding a secluded spot amongst the upper branches of the tree. The other had done just as the real Uriko had and dove to one side, before rolling up into a poised stance. "Pffuh - pffuh - pffuh - pffuh!" The sound of... something being expelled at high pressure came from the Kumogakure shinobi's direction. Unfortunately, the woman's evasive actions had not taken her fully beyond the scope of the powerful Fuuton technique and a moment later a powerful force tore across the left side of her abdomen. "Shit!" Uriko gasped reflexively. The pain was deep and instant, forcing the female nukenin to react quickly. There was no time to address the wound properly, so she instead relied on that unparalleled speed to take her far enough away from the barrage that followed.

Brittle wood splintered and burst as the spheres ripped the forest apart. Even the earth below was upturned when wayward shots plunged into the ground. Amongst the debris, having followed its creator, the second of Uriko's clones had managed to avoid injury from the powerful spray of Fuuton projectiles. As she looked down on the original kunoichi, the two turned their gaze toward the cause of their problems. The man looked a little worse for wear, but otherwise perfectly able. Now that two of the three women were exposed, his expression faltered as he realised his technique had not been as effective as intended. While the real Uriko lay down on the moss and loam, the clone set about keeping the Kumo-nin busy. She moved at such at pace, releasing three shuriken at her target and following right behind them as they whistled through the air. While the man dealt with the projectiles, the clone attempted to engage him in prolonged close combat, throwing a barrage of acrobatic kicks and punches in his direction. The danger, of course, was from the clone's fatal touch. But there were more surprises in store. One of which was the second clone, hidden in the canopy, observing the fight with hawk-like intensity. And finally of course, the real kunoichi.

Having already applied a generous amount of healing salve to the wound, Uriko had since unfurled a thick bandage and was now finishing wrapping it tightly around her stomach. The damage she'd suffered was far greater than mere ointment could heal, but it had stopped the bleeding and would hold her together for now. The woman was trying to preserve chakra, in case her target was going to be using more destructive techniques. Uriko had not yet brought her highest level jutsu to the battle and they were none of them forgiving on energy levels. Wondering how far the stranger could push her in this bout, the kunoichi got warily to her feet and took a few steps forward. She watched her clone attack with gusto and decided to make that all-important hit more likely to land. Grabbing ahold of two kunai, she whipped them toward the target (taking care not to aim anywhere that might hit her clone). In an instant, the woman almost disappeared as she sped after her target. Letting a guttural snarl out from between her lips, Uriko signalled her re-entry into the fray.

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Age : 28 Posts : 3145

Although Kurisu was tormented by the effects of the poison gas, he seemed largely unaffected by its power; his skin was a constant source of pain though it worked mysteriously well to keep the Jounin on his toes. He somehow managed to ignore the cries of his nervous system, seeing clearly in face of a greater danger to his flesh, which Uriko posed. There was little time for satisfaction in this kind of battle. Yes, the young Nara had caused damage in return to this irritation, yet if he allowed himself to ease off or tempt his thoughts to wonder away from what was most important - the fight - it would only lead him to lose psychologically, and eventually, physically. And there was little margin for error.

The young mahogany haired individual had been a proud member of a Clan renowned for their Strategical ability. Even if Kurisu was not a Master of Shogi, or even if he failed to match the brains and thick strings and webs of strategy, and of planning and of deceit, he was still intelligent enough - more so than many - to be able to see and understand the battlefield and its vices. On this very field of battle, Uriko sought to confuse him through the use of projectiles and a Clone - a faint copy of the woman herself; a copy that was not created by an regular means. At least, Kurisu was not willing to believe that it was; he couldn't allow himself to believe the most comforting of thoughts - that this was an ordinary Clone. It was an elemental form in the least, though Uriko had yet to show any skill with Ninjutsu and its sons and daughters. Perhaps it was thus a Medical-based creation, a clone made of poisonous gas - another attempt at causing more pain to the Nara, who fought away the desire to scratch his skin, to claw at it, revealing tendons and bones and muscle. If that eased the sensation, maybe it was for the better if he indeed did so...

But the imminent danger of projectiles and the sickly Uriko form, had kept Kurisu from indulging such ideas. Wasting no time, he gathered air again, as if in an attempt to repeat the technique he had used previously, though when he finally brought himself to expel the chakra-filled content, it was not air but water that came out. A powerful, never-ending stream of the liquid, bursting out violently, engulfing the kunai with ease and eventually, perhaps taking away the Clone. What did it do? What did Uriko do? The water would have enough power behind it to 'poof' away even an elemental creation, when hit at such range. However, all was left to be seen. Kurisu had no proof of either the original or her copy being affected by his Jutsu, a technique that had filled the surroundings with plenty of water.

Whatever the result, eventually when it died down, numerous puddles and collections of water would remain, for the Nara to use with his more demanding techniques in the future. The strategical aspect of the technique thus pleased him, regardless of the results, in regards to his enemies. Whether he harmed them or not, for the time being and a for a long time later, Kurisu would have the means for him to continue his fight. Plus, the water was very well versed in allowing him some time to breathe a little more easy.

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Age : 35 Posts : 1113

It had taken this long for Uriko to admit it, but caution was her greatest ally at the moment. The first of her clones had engaged the Kumogakure-nin, so there was no reason for the woman to get directly involved. Having already started her attack however, it was only when the man took another large inhalation of air that the kunoichi's sense of self-preservation kicked in. Skidding abruptly to a halt, her movements dislodging grass and loam upwards, she leaped a good distance away. Observation would teach her more about her opponent, for there was much still to learn. He had clearly recognized that it was a clone attacking him, not the real deal. And it seemed he was as wary as the kunoichi right now. Taking no chances, Uriko's opponent danced between the clone's strikes and soaring kunai, before launching his counter-attack. A great mass of water exploded from his open mouth, wave upon wave crashing into the clone - who had nowhere to escape to. The real nukenin took herself a little further out of harms way, holding back a little smirk. She recognized the technique, or at least had fought something very similar in her past. Indeed, it was strange how similar this situation was. The woman knew just what to do next.

Held back by the torrent and unable to close that last metre between them, Uriko's pallid clone had no choice but to disperse. The force of the water had quite an impact and although the copy fought agaist the tide, it was a hopeless battle. But if the would-be assassin had realised this was no ordinary clone, using such a technique had not been the wisest decision. Of course, the distant kunoichi had considered that he might put this water to use in the near future. It seemed that her opponent had not considered the same of her. As the virulent replication vanished, the poison it carried was, as always, dispersed into its surroundings. But the form it took was subject to Uriko's will and right now, she released it as a liquid. The deadly toxin spread through the settling waves and unbeknowst to the Kumogakure shinobi, he had surrounded himself with tainted water. Just one drop... Uriko thought smugly. It was the reason she had become so feared. More often than not, one strike from the femme fatale was all it took.

Around the combatants, the landscape had changed somewhat. The Suition technique had softened the ground and washed away much of the debris. Indeed, Uriko noted with quiet irritation that two of her poisonous tags had been swept out of the area by the tide. Large puddles adorned the forest floor now, some almost large enough to be considered ponds. The woman knew that these were double-edged swords - yes, she had infected them, but the water itself was still available for her opponent to utilise. Amongst all the other environmental changes, Uriko noted the smell above anything else. Something like wet grass, but deeper, earthier and more unpleasant invaded her nostrils. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she turned her attention from her surroundings to the man before her. He, like her, had been forced to wait for the water to settle before making any moves. Though unprepared, he was by no means exposed. The woman's eyes flitted from the various collections of water near him, to her fallen katana and finally, to where her two remaining tags were hidden. A plan formulating in her mind already, Uriko formed a quick seal before disappearing.

"Preparation, Uriko." A wizened voice called out through the darkness. Uriko's eyes narrowed, though there was no light by which to see this. The cave was cold, drafty and now - pitch black. "You knew I was coming?" The young kunoichi replied, her voice echoing all around her. Her question had been hopeful, wanting to trick the man into replying and revealing his location, but she knew he would never really fall for it. There was no longer any point trying to draw in light with her eyes, so to avoid the distraction, she closed them and simply listened. Without warning, a hissing noise emerged from some distance away but drew closer alarmingly fast. Hopping backwards, the woman narrowly avoided the kunai that had been heading for her torso. She was about to chide her target for such weak attempts on her life, until she felt the warmth beneath her feet as the exploding tag reached the end of its fuse. "No-" She muttered as the explosion rocked the cavern, sending rocks cascading down from the fragile ceiling. A flare of light pierced the darkness. Despite the pain wracking her body as she soared across the room, it allowed her a momentary glimpse of the man's location. Knowing him as she did, the kunoichi knew he would not approach yet. Landing painfully against the wall, she slid down and lay limp. A deep breath gave her a brief flash of strength, with which she dispatched a poison-tipped kunai with startling ferocity. As her senses faded into the unconscious realm, Uriko heard the the satisfactory thud of metal on flesh. "Preparation..." She murmured. It was a lesson she wouldn't forget in a hurry.

From a short distance behind the man, another great cloud of purple smoke erupted. Not wanting to give her opponent any length of time to choose how to react, the kunoichi appeared before him in an instant, utilizing the height of her speed now. The movement was almost impossible to see, but she still had to attack. Perhaps the first thing the Kumogakure-nin might notice however, was the unusual seal the female nukenin held with her hand. Behind him, her katana reacted immediately, zipping through the air toward its mistress. Of course, Uriko had the blade end pointed straight at her opponent's open back. Or if not this, then the man's attention would be taken by the arc of water about to cascade over him. The kunoichi had, upon arrival, dragged her foot through the puddle and kicked a small wave of the liquid toward her target. Enough water to soak through his clothes if he blocked it, for instance. Just one drop. She kept thinking, hoping it was the water that connected with the shinobi. Not that it mattered - each component of the three-pronged attack had the capacity to end this skirmish. Uriko merely wanted to enjoy the man's suffering.

[OOC: So basically, there's one attack coming from behind-and-to-the-right (poison), one from behind-and-to-the-left (katana), then one from in front (infected water). The idea is that Kurisu will only be able to notice one, maybe two attacks and the third will hit. But I'm well aware what happens to the best laid plans in Naruto... Anyhoo. Hope that's all okay!]

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Age : 28 Posts : 3145

Kurisu watched quietly, prepared and ready for anything, or so he hoped, his mind largely free of any 'distracting' thoughts. He saw to it that he was in range of many of the newly created puddles, and also, made note of the strange smell that rose in the air, though couldn't hope to explain its existence. His mind suggested the answer to be the water and he made sure to not make any physical contact with it. Who knows what his opponent had prepared... after all, she had already displayed an ability of foresight, having planted a poisonous trap, which till this moment, had tortured his skin. Fortunately, the feeling was almost gone, forgotten, and he was glad to be rid of it, for it had the innate ability of taking his attention away from the opponent before hand.

Watching quietly, the young man waited for the water to fully settle, thus revealing the woman, her having recovered after one of his strongest fuuton attacks. Yes, she had dodged it partially, and yet the fact that she was still standing so carefree, had annoyed him. He didn't want to let it get to him too much however, and stopped himself from making a comment - a desire, that was growing on him. He hated the silence, that had settled in the air. It added to the tension, and the woman seemed like the type to be distracted or easily swayed by words.

It was a surprise that pre-dominated the mahogany-haired man's thoughts, when he heard a soft explosion behind his person. Instantly, his head turned and his eyes registered the pink-purple gas, edging closer towards him, yet again displaying the woman's ability to plan ahead. However, Kurisu did not allow himself to be fazed, quickly performing hand seals with one hand and mouthing the name of the Jutsu - a slightest whisper, under his breath - which produced a wind from that very hand. A wind, or perhaps a blast of it, which directed itself and dispersed the gas swiftly, just as swiftly as he wished it to be removed. However, the process did take time.

When Kurisu turned back around, the woman was already on her way, and his eyes widened for he didn't expect a direct attack. Yet he was largely unnerved, her great speed having been somewhat nullified by the distance between the two - the distance created by his water release. Still, she moved quickly, and the man had only a second to decide on the first suiton jutsu that came to mind, before he used his other hand to perform it. The one which had cast the fuuton jutsu could have slowed down the process of gathering chakra, so he opted for a one hand seal, whilst the free hand remained ready for anything.

Drawing from the water around him as well as some of his own, produced via chakra, a large spinning circle or perhaps whirlpool of water formed directly in front of him, by a lucky accident absorbing and taking the water that the woman had sent flying at him. Together and with some of the other poisoned liquid (unknown to the Jounin), a large form was created, a form most dangerous not merely because it was of water, but because of the added ingredient. The large dragon-like form took no time to rest or wonder, instead opting for a quick attack, lunching forward towards the woman. Just as it was closing in, it stopped suddenly, halting in its tracks with the cry of agony of its master.

A surprise attack had got him, a katana - previously discarded by her mistress - now returning with vengeance. It must have had somehow been thrown towards him or otherwise summoned, for it hit from behind where there was no one but the trees and shadows. As Kurisu was wearing his Jounin vest, the damage was reduced, and yet the blade drew blood and risked to bleed him dry, for it did pierce the flesh and wasn't far off from where one of his lungs lay. Still such details were meaningless to the man, whose free hand frantically grasped for the handle, countering the blade's need to return to its mistress, and tear through his body as a result. Though he stopped its flight the effort and pain left him weak, and he could tell that the precious liquid was being drained fairly quickly. Too quickly to his liking.

Angered, bitter and hurting, the youth ordered his dragon to continue its hunt, his free hand lodging the blade in the ground next to him, where it would not escape easily. He wasn't doing so well.

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Age : 35 Posts : 1113

Despite having confidence in her three-pronged attack, Uriko couldn't help but be a little dismayed to see that the poisoned water was kept at bay. It surely would have ended the bout and allowed her to enjoy the Kumogakure-nin's suffering. Instead, she watched the toxic cloud disperse and a bulk of water form before her opponent. Two techniques in quick succession saved him the worst of it, but he was only mortal. As Uriko closed in on her target, a knowing smirk flashed across her otherwise stern features. Thud. There it was. The man's blood had been spilled and the female nukenin's eyes widened, glistening with renewed voracity. He impressed her with his swift response, hauling the blade out of his body and casting it aside, all the while holding his Suiton technique in place with a spare hand. As a kunoichi who could only use one hand, Uriko was not beyond appreciating the skill involved. It had long since occurred to the woman that had she should have applied poison to the katana earlier. But it had done its job nonetheless. If this was to be a war of attrition, an accumulation of injuries until the end, Uriko knew she could outlast her would-be assassin.

Assassin... The woman mused, turning the phrase over in her mind. Now that she thought about iIt was odd to think that a lone ninja would be sent to dispatch her. He might be some as-yet undiscovered prodigy for all Uriko knew, but it was unlikely. The female nukenin's information network was quite reliable and she felt sure that if such a shinobi had been sent into the field, she would have heard about it before they arrived. There's something you've missed, girl. The voice echoed around her head. Her teeth gritted together at the sound and she tried to ignore it. But there was truth to be found amongst her troubled thoughts. There was something amiss about the entire situation, but the bigger picture eluded the woman - for now. The man standing before her could be a scout, or a fraud or a potential ally; it no longer mattered to Uriko. She wanted to know how far back this chain of events could be traced, to whom she really owed thanks for this unwelcome intrusion. By and large, the great nations and herself had an uneasy peace. The two left each other alone or at least, neither wanted much to do with the other. Burying these questions for now, the woman focused on the more immediate problem.

Like a shark sensing weakness, Uriko set about capitalizing on having the momentum. Her opponent's sudden injury had caused his liquid dragon to pause in its flight, giving the woman just enough time to react. She took a second to gather and control her chakra, before allowing to to spread through her nervous system. Only a highly capable medical ninja would possess the knowledge and control to perform such a technique without causing themselves severe harm. And yet, this was not enough, for the physical capacity to cope with the augmentation had to be present, too. It was fortunate then, that Uriko was about as honed in these arts as one could possibly be. Not only was the complex process completed with pinpoint accuracy, but it took less than two seconds to achieve. No, not fortune - hard work, perseverance, endurance, skill. The woman reminded herself. And then she felt it. Her muscles sprang to life, her senses widened and her mind cleared. It was like electricity, an energy coursing through her body that rendered any previous state of being utterly inferior. With a calm exhalation, she watched the water dragon gather a second wind, opening its jaws wide as it rushed toward her. And then, Uriko moved.

Before even she herself knew it, the kunoichi had arrived some five metres behind her opponent. Standing behind his Suiton technique, the man might not have even noticed Uriko's disappearance through the body of water and even if he had, following her movements would be quite the task for even the most trained of eyes. Leaving him no time to figure things out, the kunoichi darted in, closing the small gap in an instant. Her face a picture of serenity, the woman lashed out with one leg, swiping at her target and hoping to connect solidly with his body. If she did, the next strike would come from above and her momentum carried her seamlessly into a flip. This would end when her foot came crashing down from above, crushing the man into the dirt and loam below. With her surging strength, both strikes could all but end the contest. Furthermore, there were few shinobi in the world who could manage to block or avoid Juunseidou attacks - though Uriko had another level in reserve for such an occasion. And yet... the Kumogakure-nin had proved a tenacious opponent so far, and Uriko was not expecting a victory so soon. Indeed, he was now pushing her to use high level techniques, which in itself was a marker of his talent. The woman was loathe to use such jutsu if she could avoid it, given the drain on her chakra. When it came down to it, she simply didn't have the reserves to go wasting energy. Yes, in a war of attrition, an accumulation of injuries, Uriko was confident. But if it came down to chakra, it might not be so straightforward. And the thought terrified her.

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Age : 28 Posts : 3145

The Nara couldn't have seen her disappear, the dragon blocking out all sight of the woman. Of course, he was aware of the pause that he had created, taking away the water's momentum and no doubt giving the criminal enough time to avoid the Jutsu completely or come up with a counter. Yet, though he was aware of all this, the pain caused by that bloody sword made him grit his teeth and clench his muscles, the uncomfortable feeling of warm liquid spreading slowly. The wound wasn't fatal - any doctor would tell him that - and if no other injuries were sustained, it was likely that he wouldn't be affected any more by it than his current state of pain. It was fortunate that he had his Jounin Chest Plate, because otherwise, the attack could have been fatal. Instead, it confused him and made movement painful. But at least he could move. At least he could still move...

So yes, Kurisu knew. He was calm enough to be willing to believe that his Jutsu wasn't successful. The woman had showed so much skill up until now after all, so it was almost painfully obvious that she had avoided his attack. The problem lay however, in the fact that it was impossible to know or guess as to what she would achieve next. Indeed, the situation seemed dire, as the man crouched in his awkward position, his dragon brining no results as far as he knew. It left him with one thought only - 'it's time to use my Nara techniques.' There was a certain reluctance to do so mostly caused by the time they were fighting. Although it seemed like hours now, it had all been a few minutes at best, since the start of this skirmish. The sun has still been in the sky then and still was there now, the presence of trees developing multiple shadows that he could have used previously. However, that felt wrong in many a way, and Kurisu thus opted for elemental attacks. He knew that his Nara identity had to remain a secret, or otherwise, he would waste the element of surprise, and the woman would shy away from all the shadows present, limiting his usefulness. The wound however, brought the man to seek that little ace, hidden so very well in his sleeve. He didn't yet know how crucial it would become.

It was an instant, a faint movement - a shadow - that Kurisu noticed moving, surrounding him. His mind was alerted and he turned his face quickly, wrongly so, as the woman appeared before him. On instinct, the man dropped his seal, releasing the water that was now behind him, noisily. But that didn't make the woman do so much as flinch - perhaps it did, but regardless, his sky blue iris had little time to notice. It was a minor detail now, as a kick came, the sound slower than the action. He felt it before he heard it, and then pain. Pain, immense, blinding, pushing his down to the ground, so that he was flat out, his wound even more painful, as his brain pressed an emergency button, and all hell broke loose in his head. His eyes closed automatically on instinct, and on instinct also, they remained closed, as the hand which had released the dragon made a seal... a seal that had no doubt saved his life.

Still unaware of what he had achieved, Kurisu could only hear a heavy thud, before his body registered the presence of another human form upon him. Breathing, lifting, lowering. Flesh and blood, heat and vibrations of the heart pumping its awesome liquid. One of her weapons also pressed against him, the touch of cold metal scaring the skin and making him shake a little. But in all, the man was quick to assume and was quick to open his eyes, the shock of what he saw making the pain go away momentarily. Frozen. Unmovable. Paralyzed. It was hard to tell what the woman was feeling, her face so close to his, her hair even going as far as falling upon his face, tickling the skin. He would have chuckled if not for the tension and danger of the situation. She was upon him, tall as he was, but smaller - lighter - yet stronger. He was aware of everything so suddenly, understanding dawning on the man. And then he noticed the lack of an arm, and smiled to himself, so widely that she must have noticed, and wondered, worried perhaps, as to what the man was thinking.

"I'm a Nara" the man explained simply, his voice strained, the sensation of pain coming back, intensified. His face felt as if he had smashed himself against a brick wall; as brutal as the metaphor was, it was a sensible way of explaining the pain he felt. And it was a violent kind of pain, a pain inflicted by a dominant fighter. This hadn't been a fair close combat match at all, truth be told. Kurisu was after all, a long-range fighter.

One need only to look at their shadows, now one and the same, to understand what had happened...

Kurisu had performed a Nara technique, a simple but effective one - the first and strongest ability, referred simply to as Shadow Imitation. It did not require speech or many seals - in fact one was enough, especially for someone his rank. In normal circumstances, the Nara would extend his shadow and join it with that of his enemy, however when Uriko came so close to deal him damage personally, with the Sun where it was and her distance from him being but a step away, it took almost not time at all, to link their shadows. It was unfortunate and impossible to dodge - she had caused the situation herself. Again, usually, this would then lead to a situation where the woman would copy the movements of Kurisu. However her leg had been raised, coming down quickly to crush the feeble man before her and no doubt end the fight. Thus, when the shadows connected, the attack stopped, all momentum sucked away, causing a sudden unbalancing of the body. As the woman was not allowed to move, she simply fell, leading to this awkward situation.

And why did Kurisu smile like that? Well. The technique only allowed movement that was mirrored. The seal had been made with Kurisu's right hand - Uriko's right hand also, mimicked the seal. A seal that was useless to her. What was the key to this here moment was the arm indeed. The left arm. The arm that would normally do everything the other arm would. But Uriko was missing a limb. Kurisu was not. Kurisu's left hand's movements couldn't be mirrored. If he chose to, she would die - here and now!

"Hello" he said simply, teasing. "Do you understand your situation?" he added, the question spoken in that very same tone, a tone of arrogance and victory. Kurisu's head was clear though, and his eyes glanced momentarily around him. Still even in such a victorious monumental moment to this fight, he wouldn't allow himself to lose his guard. Not now! Not when he was so close. "Don't try anything, I warn you." he added again, this time with tenacity. He was worried after all, that Uriko might have a means of fighting him. Reassurance was in order and he was quick to think of a way of stoping his worries from becoming a very dark, scary reality. After this, only he could win - a failure to do so was not an option he dared to consider. Her victory from this point on, would probably only grant him a swift death at best. To that end, his left hand performed seals, and in what could have been percieved as a seductive whisper, the man spoke the simple words "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu". A clone of himself was created. Another was created soon after, and now, only now, Kurisu felt happy and secure. The two replicas were standing close to them, guarding, ready to take on anything Uriko could throw at him in her current state. Accomplices. Fellow Criminals. More traps. Pre-prepared Jutsu. Come on!

"How are you feeling?" he asked then, simply, trying to buy himself time. The pain of the kick still bugged him, a bruise no doubt forming up. Perhaps there wouldn't be a bruise, or perhaps there would be - either way it hurt like hell, and hell was not a nice place to be in, at this time of year.

OOC: Some may deem this to be an example of Godmodding however that would be wrong, since there are a number of factors that should be taken under consideration. When so close to each other, the shadows would have been (almost?) overlapping, hence the ease with which Kurisu can cast the Shadow Imitation. There would be no way of dodging it, since the two are so close, and especially since Uriko was unaware of him being a Nara, it makes sense that such a 'trap' - an 'ace' was played. Obviously due to the lack of an arm, this means that I can move my left hand freely. Even if Uriko was aware of the Shadow moving, again, the closeness no matter the speed, would mean her shadow would be caught.

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Age : 35 Posts : 1113

There was a satisfying thud as Uriko's leg connected with her opponent's torso and his body and balance yielded. She felt the thousands of tiny oscillations in both her target's flesh and that of her foot. It did not matter that cloth and boot protected the two - a strike so penetrating would always deliver the gratifying sensation. The woman's victim had time enough to glance around, his expression not able to register the attack until moments after it had happened. It wasn't until he was halfway to the floor that his blue eyes registered the surprise. Yet there was something else hidden in his expression, something that, had she time to ponder it, would have given Uriko cause for concern. Instead, she allowed the momentum to drag her leg across and down, then arcing back over her own head in an acrobatic motion. She was barely a second, just millimetres from finishing the fight with the makeshift axe kick when her body froze. Quite literally, her joints and muscles seized up and her whole form became rigid. She teetered for a moment, then collapsed in an ungainly position, right on top of her grounded opponent. "Ugh..." She groaned, her lips pressed against the mulch and loam of the forest floor. Right now, the only consolation was that the Kumogakure-nin had just been subjected to a similar, though more painful, experience.

Fighting hard against the paralysis, Uriko managed to open her mouth a crack and spit the unpleasantries out. That was about all she could manage for the time being, however. Watching her opponent, she saw a glimpse of a smile cross his features. Surely not. The kunoichi thought silently. The kick? Her mind began to speed up as it dawned on her what had happened, and who her assailant truly was. She could not see her shadow from where she lay, but Uriko was ready to bet that it was no longer alone. No sooner had the notion crossed the woman's innermost thoughts than her counterpart, the one clone she had kept in reserve, sprung into action. Taking great care to make no noise, she slid down the tree trunk and touched down on the soft earth. Not a sound. "I'm a Nara." The man explained, confirming the female nukenin's theory. Though he did not sound as smugly victorious as his brief grin had suggested. It was almost as though he spoke through gritted teeth. The kick at least, Uriko surmised, had taken its toll. That, or the kunoichi had put on a few pounds.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a short time. Frozen atop her opponent, the woman figured that he would find movement a little difficult from this position too. But there was no sign of discomfort. No, her opponent's smile returned at the sight of his target - bound and silenced. And just for a second, a moment of indulgent weakness, he chose to taunt her and not take action. He would regret it. "Hello." He smirked. "Do you understand your situation?" As though the woman had not figured it out already. Or perhaps he was being sarcastic - it was hard to tell right now. A short distance behind him, Uriko's clone had crept a little closer. She dared not risk alerting the Nara to her presence, so chose to stop where she was - some ten metres away. Forming seals with her one hand, she kept her mouth shut and let her chakra do the talking. She felt the technique emerge, the invisible veil cast over her immediate surroundings. It was a wicked jutsu, one that the Kumogakure-nin would almost immediately feel the effects of. Having been pierced by the nukenin's blade and struck mightily across the chest, this technique brought those injuries back to their freshest state, as if they had just that second been applied. It would feel like the katana was still burying into his flesh, and Uriko's leg was just now crashing into his torso. But it was not enough, not yet.

The would-be assassin had produced a pair of his own clones, of the shadow variety. Like to obedient henchmen, they waited beside him as he continued to preach rather than act. "How are you feeling?" He asked the captive woman, unable to hide the satisfaction in his voice. It took some effort, but Uriko managed a reply. "Better - I think - than you." She sneered as the area-of-effect technique fell upon the shinobi and his two clones. Though they were copies, they carried his wounds just the same, and would be feeling every ounce of pain that their creator was. The kunoichi was no fool, however. A jutsu that caused pain only would not be enough to free her. If the man was the consumate professional she now took him for, that is. Already the virulent clone had prepared seals and accumulated chakra for something altogether more deadly. Wordlessly, she puffed out her cheeks and blew a pallid, yellow mist before her, watching it silently envelop the four combatants. The damp cloud gave a musty smell, not totally repellent but hardly a pleasant odor. But it's weak scent belied to catastrophic consequences for those affected. Settling on the skin or being inhaled through the nose or mouth was enough. The Kuro Tousou was a potent toxin, one that left its victims scarred, traumatized and weak. Uriko could only hope that her target would linger, hold the seal and be subjected to its effects.

If not, well there was an answer for that too. Having used up most of the chakra she had been given, the clone this time pulled out a trio of kunai, each with exploding tags attached. Should the Nara do anything threatening, she would release them at each target and force the fighters apart. If he relinquished his hold over her mistress, then two of the projectiles would target his clones, with one in reserve for defense. If the woman were to put odds on the situation, it was a fairly safe bet that one way or the other, she would be freed from the shadowy grasp. But once that was accomplished, was the fight necessary? The young man had slowly become a more intriguing figure, though she was loathe to admit it. He had wisdom beyond his years and the skills to back it up. But more importantly, were there questions over his loyalty? Had his superiors burnt their bridges with him? For a potential ally in a world that offered her few, Uriko was willing to give it a chance - if only a slim one. The pair of them had enjoyed a verbal tête-à-tête already, so there was no reason to think he wouldn't be willing to discuss a little further. And if all else failed... well, she could kill him.

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OOC: Just to be clear, it is Uriko's clone who is acting and performing techniques.

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

It's difficult to tell what had happened. Kurisu remembered seeing the woman fall onto him, and smiled at the thought knowing himself to have performed a check-mate of sorts. He was sure to create clones in hopes of avoiding outside retaliation, based on the woman's so far shown ability to plan ahead - who knows, perhaps she had clones of her own to attack him with or traps, that would activate now, at the most inopportune of moments. The Jounin had felt confident, and knew that to be wrong; his assumption was that he had rendered the woman useless, and had the ability to kill her at any given moment. However, there must have been a piece missing somewhere along that very short timeline. Especially now, all things considered, with the mahogany-haired individual looking calmly at the woman, he couldn't help but think that the last few seconds had been far too easy. It bothered him.

And then it happened, as always, a sudden, unsuspected attack of sorts, though this one felt mental and the man couldn't help but think, worriedly, that he was tricked into believing the woman to be a Close-Range fighter. Well, this was far closer than anyone had gotten to her no doubt, for some time, but in his head, a thought momentarily flashed speaking of the disappointment at his own level of Genjutsu. Here he was, a man suddenly hurting again, returning to that very same state of pain he had felt before. It was indeed a sudden rush of energy, of sensations, telling him of his cut, of the blood, of the burning sensation of the skin, of the pain, of the PAIN! He clenched his teeth like he'd done before; his body numbed, and a temptation to move, to release and forget about pain was prime to him at this point. But among the sense of infection and hurt, the man was calm. He registered the wounds, and yet behind the tears that had collected in his eyes and his gritted teeth, a brain was working. He understood himself to feel a weaker sensation than before - this was a repeat of before, but fainter. Softer. Distant... There had been moment, truthfully, where Kurisu would have done everything to be rid of the woman before him, as to stop the pain, but saw through the dark desire and calmed down, even though his brain was assaulted by electrical pulses. Pulses. That's all this way, all this... pain. Just the brain getting a little scarred, cuz the body wasn't performing as usual. Figures the brain would worry.

"What the hell are you doing?" the man asked, holding back a scream of agony. Although the pain he felt was considerable, unlike before, this was repeat of a sensations he had felt already, albeit now, at the same time. This wasn't a new wound. He already knew how to forget all of these returned sensations - he had been doing so for the majority of the fight after all, letting his thoughts drift away from the damage that had been inflicted upon him. Indeed, this was no different, however this time the man was more in control than ever before. Though his head was nowhere near being clear just yet, the Nara understood one thing - Uriko couldn't have cast the jutsu. Her hands were restricted, and she hadn't spoken nor had he noticed or otherwise felt a release of Chakra. His eyes also traveled to his clones, bodies of his that were more affected by the technique than he appeared to be. Indeed, the distance between himself and the clones seemed to have caused the technique to weaken, yet if him being closer to Uriko didn't make it stronger... than she couldn't have been the one who cast it. An associate then, or perhaps a trap.

Again, the man spoke, this time an instruction to his copies. "She's not the source of the Jutsu. Move past me now!" were his words, compelling the Clones to get up from a position they had been forced into by the pain they suddenly experienced. Still, they moved and moved quickly, rushing in the opposite direction of where the man did not know, that a Uriko stood. As they moved, the pain lessened and the further they got, the weaker it became until they stood proud and tall, once again, now looking around avidly. They heeded Kurisu's words and understood the implications of what he had said - if she was not the source, who or what was. Such was expected, for he was them and they were him.

"I ask again..." the man turned his face, so that he was but inches away from the criminal's own speaking to her directly. His tone was harsh, his voice more rough for the pain did well to bring out a darker side of him - a calculating, 'desperate to end this fight', side. "I could kill you right now. Your associate attacking me, could have very well brought a quick slash of a Knife to your throat." he explained, his tone more calm, though fearfully so, for it had the dead-serious edge and a malevolent potential. "So I ask that you or whoever it may be, refrains from further attacks. Otherwise, my left hand will be quick to return any damage you may try to inflict." It was at that moment that his clones interrupted; Kurisu had placed a lot of emphasis when he was speaking of his 'left hand', his use of fear (of death) being so very subtle, but hopefully, so very effective. "Kurisu, there is a mist of sorts edging towards you" was the warning, spoken in a voice that was much like his, but his previously, before the technique rendered the man to a cruder sounding individual. An individual that froze for seconds, allowing his brain to think and think hard.

"I'm guessing poison" he muttered to himself or perhaps to the Criminal too, for shortly afterwards, he shot a glance at her. Meanwhile, his head was putting a plan together. Was. But then as soon as the plan was created, it was halted and scrapped and Kurisu smiled, for he thought himself devious. Would she think so too? "What makes you think that I will move? You will also be affected and without your Jutsu to help, You will also die. Am I right? Perhaps we should just embrace here instead?" he spoke, the monologue ending with a joke. A joke that lacked the humourous tone or the gestures - facial expressions also, that would normally accompany it. If nothing else, willingly or accidentally, Kurisu ended up sounding extremely sarcastic. And that gave him power. The pain caused his voice to leave little to doubt that he would indeed follow through with such a suicidal plan. Indeed, perhaps a failure of the woman to comply to his request, would lead to their deaths so very very soon. Kurisu couldn't tell what he truly thought at that very moment. Perhaps it was the pain speaking for him, seeking a way to detach itself from him... for eternity.

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Age : 35 Posts : 1113

The events set in motion by the captured woman unfolded before her; and although she was bound to the Nara's movements, she felt the sensation of a knowing grin, even if it did not actually cross her features. I guess I ought to thank you. Uriko thought silently, referring to the shadow. I don't want my features revealing my thoughts. She added. Quite suddenly, the kunoichi began to grit her teeth and clench her fists. Her gaze fell upon the shinobi from Kumogakure, who was the blueprint for all of Uriko's movements right now. He was clearly in considerable pain, but trying hard to fight against the sensations. An unfortunate limit of the Kage Mane - it doesn't entwine the somatosensory system. The female nukenin mused. Were it up to her, she might have tried to develop the technique as such, turning it into a test of physical endurance. Her wandering mind was snapped back to the situation at hand by her opponent. "What the hell are you doing?" He snarled, doing his best to hold the pain in. Uriko's mouth mimicked his, though no sound came out. He must have known she couldn't reply, so his question was out of desperation, a need to vent against the refreshed injuries. If the kunoichi could have shrugged, she would have done so.

In fact, the young man was demonstrating a remarkable level of control over his reaction to Uriko's malicious technique. His mind was hardened enough to fight past the unpleasant sensations and try to remedy the problem. "She's not the source of the Jutsu. Move past me now!" He instructed, his voice still strained. His clones were quick to follow orders, and were soon both beyond the technique's reach. They straightened up, no longer under the wicked influence. By her own admission, Uriko had not commanded that particular jutsu for any tactical advantage. She had simply wanted to hurt the man lying beneath her. It might have been a knee-jerk response, but it seemed to be taking it's toll. "I could kill you right now. Your associate attacking me, could have very well brought a quick slash of a knife to your throat." He explained, clearly keen to bring an end to his suffering. I wondered how long it would take to resort to idle threats. The female thought smugly, wishing she could speak her mind. "So I ask that you or whoever it may be, refrains from further attacks. Otherwise, my left hand will be quick to return any damage you may try to inflict." The Kumo-nin continued. Despite the sincerity in his voice, Uriko was not planning to yield today.

Sure enough, her reply came. "Kurisu, there is a mist of sorts edging towards you." One of the man's clones spoke up, alerting their fallen master to a new danger. Edging? A word that, in Uriko's opinion, gave a false impression of the time before the mist enveloped the group. She dismissed this thought quickly - it mattered little. The Nara's expression belied his thoughts, as his mind raced to find a suitable course of action. Of course it was poison, he had surmised correctly, but the female nukenin wasn't able to give him any sort of confirmation. The mist was barely moments away when he spoke up. "What makes you think that I will move? You will also be affected and without your jutsu to help, You will also die. Am I right? Perhaps we should just embrace here instead?" Once more, Uriko found her lips forming the same words as her opponent. Still no sound emerged. If he had wanted to probe her response and learn what would happen if they were both affected, the man was his own downfall. Bound as she was, the kunoichi could give nothing away, even if she had wanted to. The mist's nature, the threat it posed and the surprise hidden inside would remain a secret. For now.

Coasting behind the thin cloud, obscured only by the fine veil, Uriko's clone moved silently. She was just about close enough to action for her silhouette to be visible, but had no intention of giving anyone the chance to notice. As the pale cloud began to roll over the collected group of shinobi, she released the three kunai in her hand. Two buried themselves at each of the clones' feet, the third settling an inch or two from the Kumogakure shinobi's face. Of course, this meant it was just as close the the nukenin's visage, too. The hissing sound of burning paper came to an abrupt halt, leaving a millisecond of silence before each tag detonated. Shielding her face against the blast, Uriko's clone released the pain-bringing technique and took a prepared stance as soon as she could, watching the scene unfold. For now, thick grey smoke danced with the pale yellow mist, the heated air slowly carrying it up and away from the area.

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OOC: I'm not happy with my post length, but I'm strapped for time right now. And I've left this long enough! Basically, the idea is that the tagged kunai are throw just as the mist rolls over the group, giving the poison just enough time to take effect before the explosion blows everything away. Obviously, there's a small window of opportunity to escape the poison/blast, but I expect it means breaking the shadow hold on Uriko. I realised that we can't really have our little talk if she's bound by the technique, y'see. Razz

Obviously, I can't react to the explosion as the real Uriko until I know if/when the Kage Mane bind is released, so I'll have to post that in the next post.

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

It seemed as if everything he had said was to himself; it was a sign of him going crazy, somehow or somewhat, perhaps because of a delirium caused via the wounds that the Criminal had inflicted upon the Jounin. Better yet, perhaps she had coated her weapon with Poison which inadvertently placed him in such a position, where to any outsider it would have seemed as if the mahogany-haired man was speaking to himself, as the woman laying so close was so silent, not responding, as if a figment of imagination. The stupid truth was, that the man hoped to reach out with his words, to the woman's suspected accomplice. Little did he know, that this mentioned accomplice was a clone as much as the ones - the Kurisus, standing but a few steps behind the idle figures on the floor. Well, not so idle. The Jounin was still experiencing pain, and even if he did not dramatize such and refused to slither in pain on the floor, cringing and writhing and screaming, he still was hurting. Hurting inside, the pain largely psychological more so than realistic, for the damage had been inflicted once and only once - the remainder of it being inflicted, was what haunted the otherwise, almost always calm Nara. He wasn't so calm now... But yes, the accomplice was none other than a Clone, without a mind of its own - mindless then, or was it? Based on such a vile individual: a dark and black and shallow, but intricate and evil, in many a way, twisted and corrupted - lacking compassion or morals, individual... The Clone was tainted with a persona that perhaps dictated the actions it was responsible for. Perhaps in some way, having been created from such a personality, the Clone sought to end its owner's existence - wouldn't that be ironic? Kurisu didn't expect his Clones to kill him off... however then again, he was a 'decent' man. Uriko however, as a Criminal, no doubt harbored desires of death, of herself as much as her targets. Perhaps the Clone, in its very own strange way, saw itself as fulfilling Uriko's dark, forgotten wish. Didn't everyone sometimes consider suicide? The easy way out? A criminal, deemed to run every day and every night, forever alone, living in mistrust and fear - living in her own, dark, perfidious world. Surely she more than anyone else, wanted the easy way out...

But Kurisu didn't know there was a clone, even if a part of him suspected such. He merely waited a few seconds, as if in hope, hope of seeing the Mist disappear instantly or shortly after he had spoken his warning. Yet such did not happen, and with a feeble resolve, the man's spare hand, like a gun, pointed at the dangerous Mists, a signal to the Clones, who knew his mind and understood what their liar of an original wanted. The mahogany man did not look at the woman as if ashamed of his blatant fib, as powerful winds erupted from where the Clones had been, making a bigger mess of the mess that his mess of a hair, was. He was silent, watching as smoke was dispersed away, quickly under the influence of two identical Jutsu. And then, sudden, explosions followed unexpectedly...

Uriko was a master of complicating situations - Kurisu had learned this much, having only been shortly in the very thrilling presence of this very exquisite woman. What one would imagine to be a simple process of blowing away a Poisonous gas, Uriko saw an opportunity to lay waste to her opponent and his creations. It was by fortune alone, that Kurisu was faster, by accident of course, his Clones' winds stopping the intended explosive tags - intended for himself and them - before they could reach their desired targets. The winds were meant, for the sole purpose, of shedding light on the Mist and the area it cloaked, and the area it was soon to fall upon. However, the tags were stopped also, unexpectedly, exploding prematurely, their flames feasting on the provided extra energy that Kurisus' winds have given them, enlarging and growing bigger and menacing, shouting noise and fire in their ears and eyes, and shaking the world with a thunderous sound, blowing away all those deadly purple tendrils, sending debris - flying. The two figures laid untouched by the explosions' efforts, merely shocked by the sounds and the nearby sights of the wild flames and blasts, and the shrieking of the running, pink-like clouds. And then, there was silence.

Behind the gas, stood a Clone of Uriko herself and the man chuckled at the discovery - the woman chuckled too. Without an order required, his Clones attacked or rather made seals at quick pace, both different and both differently aimed, two unique techniques flying at deadly speeds to be rid of the copy that had made itself such a thorn in the sides of all the Mahogany-haired figures present.

Using nearby sources, one Kurisu would manipulate the deadly (and spiced with Poison) water to form a fang-like form, which would attack quickly and suddenly, smashing and colliding and overpowering Uriko's fake body instantly, if it failed to evade. Had it evaded, there was always a chance (though Kurisu was not aware) that the raging water could splash some of its hidden, deadly contents upon the Clone, thus perhaps damaging and dispelling it.

The other Kurisu, as if seeking to overdo, created a sphere of Lightning in his hands and sought to throw it promptly. It would land either close to the Clone or perhaps even upon it, sticking to the surface as if a Spider of sorts, its clinging legs gluing the body and target. Swiftly afterwards, an equally powerful explosion as the one of moments ago, would take place. If the Clone sought to dodge the little orb, it could very well be caught in this blast. If it was intent on dodging the Water-based attack, maybe it would not see the Orb. Maybe... whichever the case, the original was confident in his nearing-the-end success.

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Age : 35 Posts : 1113

There were times - not often, mind - that Uriko would simply credit another's skill. She was loathe to do so, especially now and for her current assailant, but there was no denying the wisdom in his methods of dealing with the situation. He had signalled his temporary companions to do his bidding (a movement that Uriko had been forced to mimic), sending dual blasts of wind to cover a greater area with the technique. It dealt with the nukenin's poisonous mist well enough, but also put paid to the explosive tags she had hidden in its damp cloud cover. The woman assumed that this was by design, or at least a jutsu selected for its ability to repel. By now, the Nara was likely all too aware of the kunoichi's penchant for trickery. In that sense, the two were somewhat alike. Both seemed eager to plan ahead, to try and second guess the other. She had planted poisonous tags, concealed her clone and even strategically discarded her weapon. But not one of these was an action taken specifically to deal with this man. They were cunning and effective strategies, but not tailor-made. The Nara, on the other hand, did not appear to have laid such traps. Instead, he had been content to display moderate skill and draw the woman out of her shell. It was only once the Kage Mane technique had been applied that the kunoichi even recognized the lure. It seemed, after all, that Uriko did not possess the same guile as her opponent.

Regardless, the real Uriko could only look on as her attacks were extinguished in quick succession. No, not extinguished... She thought to herself. As if on cue, the trio of paper tags detonated. Orange light exploded before the combatants, before being swept up by the rushing winds and colouring the sky bronze. The one remaining clone of Uriko's had thought she was a safe distance away. Her eyes widened and on instinct, her body leaned backwards and her feet pushed hard against the soft earth. Grey plumes trailed behind her as she emerged from the cloud, sputtering and coughing a few dregs of smoke from her lungs. The damage was superficial. It had not pierced, it had not broken and it had not choked her. Though her virulent replications were a little more durable than many other designs, they stil lacked the endurance of a true shinobi. A few solid strikes would do the job, and she was now facing down odds of two to one. Both the clone and its mistress knew it - there was not long left.

With little chakra remaining, the pallid-skinned copy was quick to get to her feet; if a little ungainly. The smoke was already lifting as she thumbed through her item pouch and retrieved three exploding pouches. Ever since the damned Nara had ensnared her in his technique, the fight had become about numbers. And whilst he was free to perform techniques, Uriko was not so fortunate. Her lone replication did not have the chakra reserves to fight the Kumo-nin's pair, but once it was gone there was little the female nukenin could accomplish. It had probably dawned on her opponent too, that this would be a decisive moment in the battle - one way or another. It's about time to be rid of these shackles. The woman thought, a hint of urgency in her mental monologue now. Enough visibility had been restored for all to plainly see the two clones preparing their own assault. Beating them to the punch, Uriko's own released the pouches into the air. No sooner had the soft felt left her hand than she whipped out a trio of shuriken and threw them after the small bags. As the pouches reached the apex of their flight, high above the commotion, the shuriken ripped through their linings and sent a veritable cascade of minature tags floating overhead. Down below, the two clones had finished their seals and had just launched a powerful double attack. Time was running short.

Uriko cursed the lackadaisical approach she had begun this fight with. Perhaps it had been that she had simply not wanted to accept the arduous task of fighting off yet another assassin. He had, after all, interrupted her holiday. Or maybe she had become complacent, overconfident in her own skills. Whatever the case, the woman regarded the duration of her 'capture' to be an affront to her abilities. And in her frustration, her mind had not reached the most simple and effective conclusion that it should have. Now that she was forced to come to terms with the danger the Kumo-nin posed and the situation he'd put her in, she found clarity. As water and lightning gathered before the two replications, a blanket of tiny paper tags had spread out across the sky. And with one simple seal, Uriko's clone detonated the lot. The explosion surged forth, touching every single note that hung in the air above. Though it was too far from the combatants to cause any real damage, the heat and force of the blast could not be ignored. Red, gold, orange... the air was alight and roaring furiously. But such a fleeting anger, soon replaced by a thick coat of dense, grey smoke. A fierce barb punctured the sickly-looking clone's chest, the torrent of water following up and sending hee tumbling to the ground. She disappeared just as the crackling sphere reached her, the blast from which rocked nothing but the ground itself.

The sacrifice was not in vain. Elsewhere, Uriko - the real Uriko - smiled as she moved. In a flash, the hidden wrist blade was pressed against her assailant's throat. The female's eyes watched his hands carefully for signs of retaliation. She kept her peripherals focused on the clones. They would know better than to try anything now, surely. It had been a grand trick to lure the woman in this close before binding her, but now the proximity between the two would be the Nara's downfall. The kunoichi had been waiting for her chance and by luck, was already on top of her target. The blade would be upon him before another action could be made. Surely he knew. He must. The kunoichi muttered to herself. Her clone had performed its job admirably, covering the sky in a cloud of ash and smoke. It was beginning to thin already, but just for a short moment, she had blocked out the sunlight.

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OOC: I understand that some of the above is subject to things working out as planned, but what with your clones busy performing techniques and Kurisu himself underneath Uriko, I made the assumption that the sun would get blocked before any interference could be made. Oh, and I would have initiated a conversation myself, but it would be out of character for Uriko to allow Kurisu to live as things stand. So I left it wordless, in case all the above is a-ok and Kurisu decides he wants a chat. Razz

P.S. You might've forgotten to add the Kage Mane post-by-post cost last time. Not that it makes the slightest difference, as we'll finish this fight shortly. Just trying to be a good samaritan. Or failing that, a smarmy missus. You decide.

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

There was a flaw in every great plan, however in many a way when Kurisu witnessed what his opponent's clone was doing, he was partially inclined to praise the woman. Yet partially not. As said, there was always a flaw and unfortunately, Uriko didn't seem fully aware of what would occur. Yes, she had the gist and was by far more of strategist than many of those who called themselves such, back in Kumo or Konoha or any other village. There was no questioning the woman's logic or her instinct for survival... yet, Kurisu was more intelligent. The mahogany-haired individual saw what she was wished to accomplish, and this produced a smile on his face - a smile the woman would be forced to mirror, unknowingly why her soon-to-be enemy once again, was performing such a gesture. What went on inside that mysterious head of an individual who despite his close combat failings, managed to keep up ever so well? He must have worked it out then...

He must have already seen that his Shadow would be disrupted, even if momentarily, and could see that Uriko meant to use that opportunity to her very best. Getting out of this situation would be an impossible feat... so Kurisu would have to adapt. Unless, he allowed himself to let go of her. No such a plan was ludicrous! Yes, he would have the initial surprise attack, seeing as the woman would be slow to realize that he had released his Birth-given technique. Yet, she was the faster one here. He couldn't possibly preserve in such Close quarters and trying to do so, would no doubt simply anger her. At best, they would return to Square One and Kurisu would have lost a Key Ace that was his Nara heritage, in this struggle. Therefore, releasing the Shadow was not the way to go.

Which left his Clones. They could always react somehow - perhaps blow away the incoming threat of the Explosives, many in number, coming towards them at a frightening rate... but unfortunately, both Kurisu-like forms were very busy indeed, ridding the trio of the Clone that had caused this situation in the first place. They wouldn't be able to react in time. It was a failure on his part, to have them both attack the Criminal Copy at the very same moment, ever so viciously. The man was aware of himself going too far in his quest to extinguish the last trick of the Woman. It was perhaps in that fervor, that he accidentally allowed himself to get carried away, thus plunging into this very dire situation. Had he been a little more careful, he could have used one of his twins to stop what was going to happen, in a hindsight that he had already attained. Indeed. Kurisu knew what was to happen.

And that left only one solution he could possibly consider, before it was too late. Even as intelligent as he was, thinking did not happen instantly. Putting any more thought into his actions would make his reaction ultimately too late. So. Yes! He settled upon doing that...

---

The explosions came to blow up in a brilliant, albeit deafening roar of sheer power and energy, taking away the two's ability to hear a single thing. Instead, they simple shared a moment - amber and blue; a cop and robber; a criminal and shinobi; a woman and man - before, they both understood what this all meant. The fight was to start again. Kurisu's shadow was horribly disrupted, the many explosions becoming instant but short-lived light sources, causing his power to decrease and increase, and stop, and start all over again. In that turbulent moment, the hold on Uriko was severed for mere seconds, then reestablished, then weakened, then strengthened all over again. She saw it fit to act as much as she could, whilst the Jounin lay, apparently unwilling or unable to react. Truth was, he simply awaited the end of the firework display - with its end, returned his original shadow and the original power it held, for the man never let go of his Jutsu. It was simply torn to shreds when the explosions took place. Once the explosions would end, his shadow would return in full strength, and the woman would be automatically recaptured.

There was a flaw in every great plan. As the explosions ended with an epic crescendo that left smoke in their wake, the Criminal was already upon him. Well... she had always been 'on' him, so despite her great speeds, this was no surprise or feat. The feat was, a blade pushing against his neck softly - only mere millimeters from shedding his blood compellingly. That was not a factor the man had taken into consideration... in many ways, had the woman wanted, he would have been dead already. That was her foolish mistake. The Nara expected a physical attack - one that would take time, if it was to deal great damage to him. He even considered her strangling him. The necessary time for either of those scenarios was enough for his Shadow to return to its original form and take control of the woman yet again. Yes, there was smoke up above him, blocking out the sun to some extent. Yet, that only meant more shadow for him to bask in. The woman perhaps didn't know, but the Nara could as easily use the Shadow of the gas - the much larger and powerful dark mass - as his own shadow, to perform his technique. Hence, had she killed him here and there, this would have been it. But her failure to do so, meant only that she was recaptured... or perhaps it wasn't a failure to kill him. It was possible that the Shadow had stopped her just in time to halt the finishing blow... was Kurisu that lucky? Or had Uriko taken pity upon him?

Regardless, the man seemed calm, whereas internally, he was shouted at by himself for his incompetence. A smile forced itself upon his lips, but his sky blue eyes would tell the woman how little meaning there was behind the facial expression. Out of all the emotions, happy Kurisu was not. Yet there was a hint of some satisfaction in that cold gaze, as the man realized his nearing success. Thus what occurred next was a means of ensuring that his victory was not short-lived; that she would not interfere - not any more; no longer. It was a simple plan, even for the likes of him, hence, Kurisu expected the woman to be able to understand what was going on - the implications of the situation that she had landed herself in... Perhaps she wouldn't even care, still confused by the means by which he had done so, that his life was still very seeming with mortal energy. However he wanted her to know. To tease her with his accomplishment. No more tricks.

As if on cue, the Clone came near and one of them replicated the Shadow Imitation Jutsu, his own shadow joining with the woman's. This eventually made her stand up, for that was what the Clone was doing, and she was to mirror him now. This left the original to also lift his body off the dirty, earthy ground, his clothes having become a gathering of dust and a collection of stains, both of blood and grass respectively. It was with a brush of his hand, or rather, multiple motions, that his outfit was brought to a more respectable state. Then nonchalantly, he took out a cigarette, bowing his head towards the Woman as he took a few steps back, in an effort to protect her from the smoke she deemed a poison. How ironic. It was then that he gave an order to the spare copy, an order that one would find disturbing. But Kurisu had good reason and one would already expect, that he had a professional reasoning behind his actions. "Strip her."

---

Once that action was done, the man finally turned around for he had given the woman enough privacy in that sense. It was't much - as soon as his Clones were dispelled, he would have seen everything through their eyes. But until then, he could only see the end result - a naked, scarred, albeit lithe form. The scars were of great interest to the Jounin, especially the history behind the missing limb. "Why did she never get an artificial limb?" he muttered to himself, deep in thought, as his eyes analysed the body of the woman. Her hair fell upon that very pale skin, which could have been no doubt so soft and pleasing to a touch - though Kurisu wouldn't dare physical contact. Despite the scars and missing limbs, the Jounin could see the beauty in the criminal. There was strength and power in her damaged body: a beauty ever so more subtle and more important or impressive, than that of a simply pretty girl. Uriko was the sort of woman one could become legendary, if they came into her close vicinity. If nothing else, she was the highest of prizes and held the richest of values, when curiosity and emotions came into the equation. However, Kurisu had not ordered what he had, to admire the largely wonderful naked form. Instead, he sought to rid the woman of a means of attack. It was a job done drastically well by the Clone, who removed every single garment save the ones covering the woman's chest and 'lower' areas. All the equipment was pushed away a fair distance, so that even in a mad dash, Kurisu would stop her from getting her weapons back. And so, she was indeed defenseless.

One of the Clones proceeded to spit out an interesting form of water, though Kurisu was not interested in the water. He was interested in speaking, and so watched, satisfied, as the Starch Syrup covered the woman's naked feet, making it so that she was unable to move. At least, she would be slower. That very same Clone headed over to where the Equipment was, but not before it placed an Explosive tag on her stomach. That was a last resort.

With seals of his own, Kurisu's shadow split off suddenly, the man making use of the shadows of the trees around him, to create a large frightening mass of needle-like shapes. They surrounded the woman, so that if she sought to run, she would be trapped and maybe even killed instantly. Then with a nod of his head, the Clone released his trapping Jutsu. Promptly, it also performed the same technique Kurisu had done, and thus replaced the man, who dispersed his own shadows, and stood tall and proud once again, free to do whatever he wished. She also, was free. "It was a good fight" he said simply, as if suddenly unsure of what to say. Despite all that planning, Kurisu was quite lost for words. And he was tired too, clearly, the drain of battle and the drain of the wounds that had been caused to him, taking their toll on his once handsome features. He seemed tired by the exchange and it was with a forced tone, that he warned her. Again. "Don't try to escape. I will kill you." the lack of strength in his voice worked in his favour. It after all, served to ensure the woman, that the man before her was resentful enough to simply kill her, if she sought to cause any more trouble. That was indeed the case.

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Age : 35 Posts : 1113

It had been a good plan, but Uriko's information regarding the abilities of the Nara had come up woefully short. Her tactic had been partially effective, disrupting the shadows enough for a window of opportunity to arise. Her opponent might well have been surprised that she didn't go for a fatal blow. There had been time to bury her blade in his collarbone, to apply a potent toxin through his skin, to paralyze him from the neck down... What had happened? It was not like the kunoichi to err, even under such pressure. Even as she felt the familiar technique grip her once more, she still wasn't entirely sure why she'd left the job unfinished. Curiosity? She wondered, mulling the question over in her head. Boredom? It was possible. Uriko was interested to see how events would unfold from here-on-in. The Kumogakure shinobi had fought well, but had yet to send any truly deadly attacks the nukenin's way. Her instinct told her that the man wouldn't kill her. Besides, she reasoned, I don't plan on letting him keep me.

Uriko's captor had been busy whilst she'd pondered the current situation. One more clone had been summoned to the battlefield and had immediately copied the shadowy technique that was holding the kunoichi in place. Forced to her feet, the woman watched as the original Nara did the same, brushing himself down as he did so. The female nukenin hoped the irony was not lost on her opponent as he pulled out a cigarette and immediately lit it up. And he put all that effort into avoiding my poison. He did, however, have the common decency to move away from his prisoner as he exhaled. It wasn't a vice Uriko ever planned to take up. She had done enough damage to her own body already. And then - "Strip her." The woman had not expected this, but it was yet another sensible precaution from the wily shinobi. Appearing beside her, the shadow clones set about their master's task, taking care not to touch the kunoichi's pale skin. She laughed inwardly at this. The man was still worrying about her infecting him and his replications.

With her clothes, armor and items discarded some distance away, Uriko became quite suddenly aware of the temperature. Moon country had always enjoyed such a temperate climate, but here amongst the dark and the towering trees, it was far colder than the rest of the island. Fortunately, though out of respect more than anything, the clones had left the bandage-like strapping that covered her chest and lower regions. Quite frankly, however, the woman cared little for modesty right now. As the man surveyed her mostly-naked form, he muttered something under his breath. No doubt a remark on her missing limb. The scars were extensive, far more disfiguring than the others that covered her body. There was no lecherous glint in his eyes, however. He watched her merely out of intrigue, maybe trying to learn something of his opponent. What a curious little man. The kunoichi thought. Even without the ability of natural expression, there was something calm about her. Maybe that was what had caught the Nara's attention.

While her opponent continued to observe, cooling sensation washed over the woman's bare feet. It was a technique she was familiar with, a viscous liquid that fastened those caught in its grasp. To one such as Uriko, it would more likely slow her movements considerably rather than halt them altogether. Did the would-be assassin really think this was enough? Did he think so little of the woman's abilities? The thought crossed the kunoichi's mind, but was soon banished. One of the clones approached, a paper tag clutched in his palm. The explosive seal was stuck to Uriko's midriff and as the shadow clone retreated, the real Kumo-nin formed a set of seals. The shadows around the group seemed to merge - just for a moment - before springing up and away from the ground. Barely seconds later and they had surrounded the trapped kunoichi with threatening barbs. This was no intimidation technique, it was yet another precautionary measure. Just how far was the man going to go to keep Uriko in place?

Utilizing his clones again, the Kumogakure shinobi replaced the spikes with those created by one of his underlings and stood ready to talk. At last, at long last, Uriko felt the shadows recede. "It was a good fight." He began. The female nukenin stayed silent for the time being. ""Don't try to escape. I will kill you." The man continued. To this, the kunoichi couldn't help herself. She chuckled wryly. "You really think this will hold me?" She asked, gesturing around her at the elaborate trap. Glancing at her surroundings as she did so, the woman noted no fewer than three potential escape routes. The man must've felt that the shadows and the explosive tag would finish her off even if the Sution technique failed to ground her. Well, let him think that. The kunoichi concluded as she turned her attention back to her tired-sounding captor. "Okay, you've earned a little of my time. What is it that you want?" Uriko intoned, clearly not particularly interested or concerned.

The truth of it was that she spoke purely to keep the young man's attention on her words. While suggesting submission, the kunoichi was busy gathering chakra to her feet. Having already been stuck fast by the viscous water, Uriko knew that the common counter to such a technique would not suffice. Instead, she meant to break free. As the Nara began his retort, the woman's fingers suddenly took action and raced through a short set of seals. Her left leg sliced its way out of the water in a graceful arc. Upon its descent, the kunoichi held her arm out and allowed the chakra blade to cut the best part of her little finger clean off. Ignoring the pain, she clenched the rest of her hand and grabbed the bloody token. Across from her, the Kumogakure shinobi had moved to halt her escape. Fast. But already too late. Uriko had anticipated her opponent's swift reply. Her body felt every one of the multiple incisions, the dark barbs piercing right through her torso and legs. It was almost a consolation when the explosive tag on her midriff detonated. But the female nukenin was ready. Now. The bright light flared up around her and for a moment, there was nothing else.

Sometimes, it was necessary to endure a terrible thing. For Uriko, this was exactly that. Though she had kick-started the healing process in advance, the explosion had nonetheless shattered her body. Had the kunoichi not been so adept in the medical arts, even the Inyu Shometsu might not have saved her. As it was, there had been a moment of excruciating pain as her bones rattled and broke, her skin burned and one of her organs ruptured. By the time her body had landed against the foot of a large oak, however, she had at least recovered enough to stagger to her feet. "Ugh..." Uriko groaned. Pain wracked her body and she could feel the blood pooling inside her chest. The technique had been successful in preserving her life, but it would take time to mend organ damage. And time was short. "Dam-" The woman coughed, blood spattering from her lips to the ground at her feet. "Damnit." She breathed heavily, leaning her shoulder against the tree trunk. The smoke from the blast had lifted enough now for the Nara to catch sight of Uriko's landing place. She knew that he would be eager to finish the job.

Through blood-stained teeth, the female nukenin grinned at her opponent. Uncleching her fist, she brought her palm up to her mouth and allowed the severed finger to fall down her open gullet. Almost immediately, Uriko's stomach began to swell and contort. The light of life seemed to have deserted her eyes and face, yet the movements around her lower torso suggested otherwise. A mere couple of seconds later and the skin gave way, peeling apart in an instant. Something emerged, moving at pace and damn-near impossible to see. The figure swept past the Nara assassin and finally came to a stop - next to the clone guarding Uriko's possessions. The element of surprise on her side, the reborn kunoichi struck fast and hard. Her palm slammed into the body's solarplexus, twitching just enough to release the hidden blade into its false flesh. A plume of smoke signalled the clone's demise, but Uriko had already turned away. Only now did her opponent have a chance to properly see what had become of his former captive. Only now would he have that chance.

Strange dampness clinging to her skin and completely unclothed, Uriko almost glistened in the half-light. In that brief second of stillness she felt... it was not a sensation easily described. Happy, focused, angry, calm. All of these things - and many more besides. Superior. That was it. The woman sniffed, casting all thoughts aside, before bringing her fist crashing down into the ground. Huge chunks of the earth gave way, the cracks spreading even as the force tossed many segments into the air. The destruction reached some five or so metres, catching the remaining clones in its path. One was crushed immediately, the other dismissed when Uriko found his airborne body with a quick kunai. The familiar 'pop' brought a satisfied smile from the woman as she scooped up her clothes. Her item pouches followed, slung over her shoulder and around her neck.

If her nameless opponent had wanted to attack her then, he could have. It would have forced Uriko's hand - she would have stayed to kill him for sure - but he could have. Instead, nothing came. Perhaps he meant to return the kunoichi's earlier favour. Regardless, the female nukenin caught his eye and committed his face to memory. "I do hope your mistress can send something more impressive than you." She called out, sneering at the man. It was a cheap insult, thrown about in anger. Of course she recognized to what ends she had been pushed. The man had been tenacious and versatile, using sound tactical awareness and a wise level of restraint. But the kunoichi would never concede such a point to someone who had not finished the job. As it was, she was far from happy to leave the Nara still breathing. Perhaps he would take that as his praise. "But for now, I guess I'll look forward to killing you. The woman concluded, before blowing him a faux kiss. With that, Uriko turned on the spot and vanished, swallowed up by the welcoming forest.

~Exit Topic~

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Age : 28 Posts : 3145

Graceful in victory, the young Jounin sat himself down, watching the spectacle that ensued when the woman attempted to escape. He had assumed she wouldn't go down so easily, not without a fight at least, but found himself smiling nonetheless at the woman's pride and spirit. She was indeed quite the handful - quite the woman. Still, when he sat himself down upon a patch of grass that had yet to be damaged by the clash of these two notorious warriors, he did not expect to see her breaking away already. Thus, it was with surprise that he watched. Momentarily uncertain if he should act or remain neutral to the unfolding situation.

Without so much as a prompt to his Clones, everything was set in to motion - an explosion brokr all sound barriers, tearing away at the mahogany-haired man's ear drums violently. The flames erupted around the woman's body - engulfed it. Their orange tongues licked the charred Kunoichi, though her form remained standing and proud, in spite of the explosion; a blast that would have shocked the Jounin, had he not been numerously assaulted by such similar blasts only a mere seconds ago. The flames soared and it was apparent to the Jounin, that they grew in size, their fiery tendrils reaching for him also. Yet he was too far away. So he watched. Fire burning away flesh. Feasting. Scarring. Clawing at the tendons and muscles beneath. The Jounin felt a sense of sadness growing, as he realized, unexpectedly that he was rather fond of the Criminal. Not in a loving way of course. His fondness materialized itself in a simple thought: 'The World won't be as dangerous without her'. It wasn't exactly a romantic lament.

But the woman never ceased to remain. As flames died out, or perhaps sooner than that, she was out and alive, running, acting, attacking - slashing out, like a ferocious beast, a wild, uncontrollable monster. She was swift to remove his Clones from the very face of this earth, and reclaim her equipment. An offhand comment was made by her, although Kurisu remained an observer - had he acted, would everything had worked out differently? It was a curious notion; his lacking presence no doubt rendered the Clones largely useless, even if they shared his abilities and knowledge. The original was always the superior. The comment made by the woman was childish, and had bounced harmlessly of the man, who merely shot the Criminal a glance, seizing up her injuries and her pained expression. Those told him everything he wanted to know. With a subtly smirk, the Jounin knew himself to have been a challenge.

And then, the woman was gone. Kurisu lit another cigarette, his eyes turning to the fleeting Sun, as he awaited a silence to settle in. A cloud of smoke set merely a few centimeters above of his person, a cloud that dispersed only to be refueled, reclaiming its poisonous presence. It's hard to say how long the man sat there, contemplating what had transpired. Eventually, he got up and left, as if nothing had occurred. He took his cloak on the way back, redressing himself with the protective garments, that hid his Shinobi identity and thus protected him from further combat. That was good.

The man was lucky. The injuries he sustained only demanded a second-rate doctor; a nurse even, if he was feeling truly lucky. All he needed was a bandage and some pills to keep him going. He would find a cheap Motel to sleep away some of the pain, and then, he would make his way back to Kumogakure. He had lied to the Criminal. His village had not sent him: it was his own desire to test himself, that had brought him to this very Country. It was perhaps a foolish thing to do, yet the Nara elders agreed and allowed him to take this journey and challenge himself in such a manner. When he returned, Kurisu could consider himself a stronger man. A better man.

TOPIC END.