Despite connecting with his last-ditch effort, the hammer-wielding man lacked the power to inflict any lasting harm on the bulldozer incarnate. And he was altogether powerless as an enraged Goro lifted him from the earth before driving him back into it with a meteoric might.
‘Crkkkk!’ His tailbone snapping at the impact, the goon's eyes would involuntarily roll into the back of his head, the pain throwing him into shock only to render him unconscious seconds later.
The airborne axe would carve a chunk of flesh from the giant’s arm in the following moment, and as the first sliver of their target’s blood reflected itself in the axe-thrower’s eyes, the faintest trace of hope could be seen shimmering alongside it. Until Goro turned around, revealing a fury so fierce that the supposed thug couldn’t help but shrivel up inside, his courage sinking through his stomach as the beastly man’s anger radiated in his direction, palpable and gut-wrenchingly scary. The only impulse was to flee, but he couldn't.
He remained there, stuck in place and eyes wide with dread, as beside him his brother-in-arms was ravaged by Goro's gorilla familiar. He dared not look, though the grotesque sounds of splintering bones, harrowing cries, and Kiki’s own overexcited rumbling forced his body to retch in sickness. More excruciating, however, was the uncertain silence that followed.
Altogether fear-stricken, when given the benevolent offer to leave unscathed, he almost couldn’t believe his ears. His head tilted and gaze squinted at the assuredly savage man who he must have misheard. Yet, when no sign of further aggression emerged, he ceased to question his sanity and simply fought with everything he had to force his legs into motion, falling at first before finally assembling himself enough to hastily stumble away from the duo.
The fate of his boss had altogether faded from his consideration.
ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ
While my expression displayed a playfulness, if one peered closely enough into my eyes, a killer’s intent could be spotted as clear as a cloudless sky.
My left arm outstretched, weapon steady and unshaking, my concealed hand nonetheless tremored with anticipation. One moment was all I needed—one mistake, one slip-up, one… distraction? It couldn’t have gone any smoother. Having dispatched those lackeys in a swift minute, the colossus called to Yasuo with a taunt that forced a smirk onto my face. The ringleader's ego couldn’t resist stopping to retort—I could feel it. Just one false move. And it came.
Swiping at my katana, I allowed his cleaver to drive my blade away, letting him assume he had thwarted my more obvious attack. He pivoted then, rotating his head momentarily to shout at Goro. There was no hesitation. In less than a second my underhanded katana was whipped from its sheath and through the man’s neck, lopping his head off before he had a chance to turn it back around. Scarlet flame coursed through my hazel irises, wild-eyed and intense as I beheld the blood well from his beheaded frame, his body crumbling to the ground, his head tumbling along the earth and into the alley’s stone wall.
My gaze remained glued to his lifeless form as it lay there, my body pulsating with adrenaline. In a manner of moments, however, I began to feel the force of bloodlust slowly dissipate from my being, a lightness returning that compelled a sigh to leave my body and for my breathing to relax.
I took a step closer to the dead man, the remaining world barely there, blood dripping from my outstretched katana like drops of unholy rain.
“Big bad Yasuo... Fiend of the Stone, Devil's hand... Headless dog—the End!”
A chortle escaped my belly. You never knew when inspiration would strike.
The world slowly returned as I lifted my gaze from Yasuo and the blood-soaked earth, resting my attention on Goro and his animal companion. I knew the stories of his mild-mannered ways, and I wondered how he would react to my slaying of this man. There was no guilt in me—my life was on the line. One of us had to die, and he had it coming. Could Goro truly be offended after an attempt had been made on his own life, as well? Well, I was curious to hear. But I was in no rush to approach an angry giant, if he was angry. So my gaze floated to my bloody katana, flinging the line of gore from its edge.
I assumed that he was approaching, so I remained where I was, reaching behind me for the flagon of sake I had clasped to my sash.
As the battle cries of Yasuo’s men echoed through the valley, my unease began giving way to a primal hunger. The metallic aroma of blood, its crimson vibrance, its warmth falling from fresh wounds, all swept through my senses as I tracked the accelerating gait of my aggressor.
An ancient fire kindled at my core, the heritage of my Kaguya ancestry, and I knew well that once ablaze there were only two ways that it could be quelled: through the touch of a woman, which I preferred—or, through the spilling of blood. Watching the wicked blade that approached, its sinister hue and the gnarled shadow it cast behind it, I knew well that only the latter option was possible. With that recognition, every facet of my being down to my marrow embraced the tooth-and-claw struggle that was to ensue.
Two paths, one crossroads, To choose between Life or Death, Which fire burns brighter?
I held my blade directly in front of me as Yasuo drew near, its point centered at the chest of the enraged man. I felt intuitively, eyeing his weapon, that the reach of my katana would be my saving grace if played correctly. And so as he finally entered my direct vicinity, before he could get close enough to reach me with his cleaver, the honed tip of my sword would be at the entrance of his heart. “Come closer, if you dare,” I invited. My grip was steady and alert should he attempt to swipe my katana away. Another step forward and it would pierce him as surely as the butcher slices the hog.
Of course, this was all sleight-of-hand—a trick. While I was no skilled swordsman, the deceiver's art was my living. As he responded to the encroachment of my blade, my right hand, concealed by my sleeve, would be holding the hilt of my second, sheathed katana, my sinews torqued and prepared to unleash a strike at the slightest opening.
ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ
Lost in the self-delusion required for such false courage, the six men refused to relent in their charge. The fastest of them would be the first to taste reality. Running at full speed, the dual-wielding attacker could only watch as Kiki lifted the hard cauldron and hurled it through the air. Before he could slow enough to jump from its trajectory, the makeshift missile would catch him square in his stomach, the impact stealing his wind and slamming him into the ground, where his head would collide with earth, knocking him unconscious.
“My god…” ⟿ “What in the…” ⟿ “Move!!!”
None of the men had ever seen a feat of such strength before. The shock of the sight, along with the tainted fog induced by the rotted liquid, forced the remaining men into a momentary frenzy. The earth-rattling pounding that signalled the gorilla’s rapid approach was enough to sober them, however, each scattering from the body of their ally in opposite directions.
In his desperation, the axe-wielding thug hadn’t anticipated an attack from above and thus succumbed to the brutal strike, his weapon falling from his grasp before his vision of the world itself. The others weren’t so clueless. Goro’s target had located him before the giant could fully enter tackling distance, and while avoiding him wasn’t entirely possible, he would attempt to defend himself by madly swinging his hammer downward just before being lifted from the ground by the force of the tackle’s impact, rendered susceptible.
Sparing no time, the two closest to Goro threw themselves into the fray in a delirious fury—“Ahhhh!!!” The first, wielding a thick metal pole, would jump at the beastly man even as he was holding onto the hammer-wielder, swinging his metal bar directly at the back of Goro’s head. The other, wielding a throwing axe, would also launch it at Goro’s back before running to pick up the two daggers that lay next to their unconscious crony.
The man closest to Kiki, witnessing the ferocity of her smashing strike, turned and fled towards the light of the streetway.
Sinking anticipation coursed through my blood with each crawling second. As I locked eyes with the man slowly lurching in my direction, I could feel that his words were true. Apart from the dubious odds of seven against one, Yasuo himself was no ordinary thug. He was known in Iwa’s underworld as the Heartcleaver and there were rumors that he had fed upon the entrails of over a hundred men. He was a ruthless fighter—I had seen that much personally. Taking him without his underlings would have been a challenge in and of itself.
Still, even though some part of me knew that this was a losing battle, I couldn’t just bend over and let them have their way with me. Where was the fun in th—
’’Who is dead? Him?’’ A voice rang from behind the mob, its bold resonance causing my eyes to perk up with sudden alarm (and the faintest hope).
The men spun halfway in reaction, a few refusing to let their gaze linger too long from my person. Smart... The voice sounded familiar, and as I caught a glimpse of the towering man and his simian companion, a sigh of relief involuntary escaped me. Goro Kinzaru, a higher-ranking shinobi of my platoon; we had never met in-person, but I had seen him before and knew of the wild tales often spun about a man who stood seven feet tall, with the strength of an ape and the ill-will of a ladybug. While it was too early to laugh, I was cackling on the inside, eyeing Yasuo, now emboldened by a newfound vigor.
With a soft Shing, my first katana slid from its sheathe, kissing the sunlight.
ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ
“Welp. Fun’s over, boys!” Yasuo bellowed sarcastically, a venomous smile etched across his face. “Teh.. You wanna die, as well? Be my guest!”
“Is that a real gorilla?”
“That’s one tall mo'fucker.”
“You sure about this, boss?”
One frenzy-eyed look from their leader was all it took for the men to quiet themselves. In the same moment, Yasuo pulled a long, jagged cleaver from his belt. If you looked closely, a sickly sludge could be seen coagulated along its serrated edge, sure to cause an ungodly infection if it were to puncture one’s skin. The others took their leader’s que and brandished their own weapons, each as vicious as the last, ranging from axes to sledgehammers to dual-wielded knives of the same sickly hue as the cleaver.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to mind your own business? That boy stole thirty-thousand ryō from me, both of the swords you see him carrying, and even now has the audacity to stand and fight.”
A globule of spit shot from his mouth and onto the dry earth, visibly sick at the thought, a thick grimace covering his visage.
“It’s not about the money anymore. I have to set an example, now. And you interfering means that you want to burn right alongside him.”
ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ
“That’s it. All six of you, cut him down until he’s the same height as that beast of his. And kill it, too. The boy... is mine.” With that, Yasuo turned back towards his initial target. His henchmen each began to charge at Goro in unison, waving their weapons wildly, psyching themselves up with maniacal cries—without another quibble, each setting out to prove their loyalty and make an attempt on the giant’s life. Yasuo himself, cleaver now outheld, made his way towards the corner where Kikuyō stood, whose own weapon faced the man in turn, prepared to defend his life at whatever the cost.
Last Edit: Oct 8, 2021 23:38:34 GMT by Kikuyō Kaguya
The sweet smell of candied perfume lingered through the atmosphere. You could almost taste the accents of cherry and plum as they wafted along the wind, mixing with the scent of alcohol. I was leaning on the oak counter of an open sake bar that lead out into the busy streets of Iwagakure’s gambling district, behind which seductive lips and inviting eyes served drinks that disappeared as quickly as they arrived. It was only early afternoon, but it was my day off, so... what else was there to do? I felt like unwinding.
My gaze drifted across the bar, making eye contact with a familiar face outlined by curly, crimson hair who was approaching from the backroom.
“Kikuyo! Um... You know Yasuo was here earlier, looking for you, right? Are you sure you should be here?” She asked, her tone becoming more hushed towards the end. A look of concern crept onto her face, her eyes flitting between my own and the street behind me.
“Him?” I smirked, belying the fact that the name had sent a butterfly through my stomach—just one. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with him when the time comes. Just, uh, don't mention that you saw me.”
“Okay... if you’re sure...” she replied, sounding uncomfortably uncertain.
“When am I not?” I bolstered, reaching behind me to grab a small jug from the back of my belt. I had forgotten that I still owed him that thirty-thousand ryō. Shit. It was slowly coming back now... I was in the hole and had managed to get a quick loan from this man named Yasuo, a local opium kingpin or whatever, on the condition that I let him keep my two katana until I paid it back. Instead, I ended up losing the money, stealing my weapons back and skipping town for a couple weeks, on a mission that had gotten so hectic that my reason for taking it had completely slipped my mind.
“Here,” I said, sliding my jug across the bar, along with several gold Kōban, “fill that up. I need to go see someone... about something...”
Her eyes glazed over before shrugging, taking my container and pocketing a few of the coins for herself. We had a little arrangement, looking out for each other when no one else would. While I’d rather have relaxed here for the afternoon, I knew that I should leave before someone spotted me and told Yasuo that I had finally turned my head up. And I’ll admit, as she turned to handle the sake, I did slowly swing around, searching the street behind me for anyone I recognized. No one. Phew... still some time.
I was facing her direction by the time she had recorked the sake and slid my vessel over. “Be good,” I joked, giving her a final, reassuring look before I made to leave. “You be careful,” she retorted, still looking concerned, but showing the faintest smile as I chuckled and turned to face the sun-soaked streets of the Stone. A single swig washed down my throat before I closed and clasped the jug along my waist, my eyes squinting slightly as I stepped outside and adjusted to the radiant daylight. One look to the left... Kuso.
“There he is!! Get that rat bastard! Reward for whoever catches him!”
And there he was, heading a gang of six other goons, all of whom tore towards me at full-sprint the moment he uttered those words. I jolted to the right, darting through the street crowd with a reckless abandon, my heart pounding, my expression intensely focused on nothing except fleeing.
Routing past civilians, my geta whipping up dust as they pounded along the earth, arms buoyed behind me by the wind that raced across my body, I ran, and ran, and ran. One turn, two turns, straightaway, a turn left. And then.. a screw up. No more populated expanse, no more noise, storefronts, wind. An alley lay stretched before me, and given how frantically I was running, by the time I noticed where I was, I was already ten meters inside it.
They managed to remain on my tail the entire time; this wasn't their first rodeo. Yasuo was the initial one to turn the corner, a hellish smirk creeping onto his face as he stared me down, his eyes livid and fuming, catching his breath, approaching me slowly as his lackeys fell in line.
“It’s over, boy. You fucked with the wrong one, this time. It's over.”
“You're dead.”
I searched madly for an exit—nothing. My own breath rose and fell rapidly. I placed my hand on the hilt of my katana. Okay... not good. Not good at all.
What had I gotten myself into now?
Last Edit: Oct 8, 2021 23:38:12 GMT by Kikuyō Kaguya
Flames blanketed the trembling horizon. A crowning backdrop to the hellfire that carved through the Onomichi streets. The remains of bodies and buildings alike lay torched, now nothing but cinders. Tortured cries echoed through a blind miasma of smoke and ash. The only reply—another cry. The tragic village had finally been converted into a living bonfire.
But it still made no sense. Why me? Well... there was a growing suspicion. And the further this place descended into hell, the more plausible it seemed.
I could still recall the voice of the jerk who had barged in on my morning massage. “Kikuyō Kaguya. You have been specially selected for a high-profile mission, direct from Tsuchikage-sama himself! Get dressed and come with me for your briefing. Now. Official Orders.”
Bah! What had I to do with fire-breathing bats and undead samurai? Me, a lowly genin? There were plenty of missions in the Stone that needed tending. Plus, I had business of my own; and who was going to gratify the Yūkaku with me gone? No, I hadn’t been selected for my lengthy record of Samurai slaying that didn’t exist. This was punishment. My reward for being a ‘less-than-ideal’ citizen. Personally, I didn’t see the issue. I mean, I wasn’t burning down buildings and... falling on distracted shinobi with a mouthful of fire..?
“Ahhh!” I dove across the smoky street, landing underneath the awning of a local shopfront. Eyelids clenched shut, I cursed myself, awaiting the intense burning that I knew would come. One breath, two. Huh? My eyes sprang back open, hands propelling against the warm earth to flip myself around. No fire at all. A relieved laugh leapt from my belly before the cursed voice of that diabolical creature turned my expression sour, and then intense.
We had to find some cover while we had the chance. All of that fire-spewing must have worn it down. Whatever the case, I was here. And the mere thought of returning alive and proving my naysayers wrong sparked my blood.
Jumping to my feet, I caught the renewed smells of charred flesh and bone and grimaced. A dense heat clung to the skin, smothering. The spared roadside wouldn’t be safe for long. Like an omen of the end, the incinerated carnage of neighboring streets littered the ground from pole to pole. Get moving. I turned to sprint, but before I could make it past the corner, a group of four shinobi barged into my path. Heaving an enormous leather sack like the funereal pallbearers of leviathan itself, they rallied toward the ravished north.
“Just gonna stand there?” One sounded as they brushed past, unceasing. I sighed, lowering my head before accepting the stark prospect of what was to come. It was less dangerous than scrambling around alone, I guessed. I caught the tail end of the mammoth pouch as it passed, speeding our pace somewhat. It sloshed under my hands. Well water.
“Where are we headed?” I shouted tentatively, hardly wanting to know the answer. “To the hospital,” one hollered back, “Just up ahead!”
And with that, we tore down the lane and into the infernal mouth of chaos.
Last Edit: Nov 19, 2021 13:10:16 GMT by Kikuyō Kaguya
A wild sunflower reaches through the barren earth.
It nourishes itself on blood lapped from its roots, laughing with life beneath the bountiful warmth of the sun.
Like an afterthought, an infant surfaces along the outskirts of Iwagakure no Sato. It's dawn when they discover his helpless body, all alone. He giggles as world-worn hands lift him from the dirt. They deliver him into the busy arms of a rundown orphanage, where he will spend his earliest years. There, a caretaker cradles the infant gently. Caressing his soft hair, she feels a whisper drift like wind from her lips—”Kikuyō.”
Raised in a slum known as “Cheapside,” the wily youth played out his childhood years roving back-alleys and dusty side-roads, learning the ways of the world from life’s ne'er-do-wells: thieves, outlaws, and prostitutes of every kind. With a natural distaste for order, he never spurned the hand he was dealt, but actually came to enjoy the freedom of living without authority or expectation, taking to the life of a swindler like a sparrow to the sky. Laughter would fill his lungs as he’d enter the orphanage carrying a hefty sack of purloined goods. A loaf of bread for a famished child, a wooden toy for another; roses for his crush, a ruby ring for the head caretaker; a jug of wine... well, he’d keep that to himself.
The stray had an uncanny knack for the trickster’s trade, and built a warm reputation within his neighborhood as a daring pickpocket who didn’t mind sharing. While brutality did abound in Cheapside, as in any ghetto, Kikuyō looks back on his childhood fondly, remembering chilly winter nights outlasted beside other street-kids, huddling around makeshift fires, telling bawdy jokes and passing around stolen sake; and long summer days burned away lounging on earthen rooftops, basking in the sun's embrace, as carefree as can be.
And it could have lasted forever, until the day he got arrested.
Following a botched attempt at hustling a ninja-in-disguise with a pair of false dice, he was thrown into a jail cell and given an ultimatum: reform, join the academy and serve his village or serve an undefined stint behind bars. In the end, he chose the former, imagining that the training would be useful for his own devices, if nothing else. He was both pained and impressed as he entered a school building for the first time in his eleven tameless years. And so began life in the academy.
He learned begrudgingly, at first, before gradually softening up to the prospect of becoming a shinobi. When he discovered the amount of ryo you could earn from missions, the gambler in him was sold. And the day they were filed into the courtyard and handed wooden bokken, seized by the newfound thrill of sword-fighting, he made his decision. Still, not quite the ideal student, he earned many-a-paddling for joking during lessons, sneaking-in sake, and just outright skipping class—playing hooky to peruse the Yūkaku district, sight-seeing before inevitably being booted out for attempting to court the women of pleasure working there.
It was during this period that he developed a passion for Haiku poetry—quite by accident, in fact—after being assigned the scrolls of the ancient Haijin “Tsujo” as punishment. He has since spent many nights poring over the classics and is perpetually honing his own craft, often breaking into extempore Haiku verse, called “freestyling,” when inspiration strikes. By his graduating term he had adopted the pen name Nimble Letter and released a collection of Haiku called “Blades of Grass,” which blended natural and shinobi-esque imagery, to some local acclaim.
He advanced from trainee to Genin in style, tying the forehead protector to his obi sash, where it hangs at his side. Of course, his freewheeling behavior hadn’t changed at all; he remains inclined to gamble, swindle, and be a jokester, otherwise. But a burgeoning desire for adventure has taken harbor in his chest, and he longs to see the world beyond Cheapside—beyond the Stone, even—katanas at-hand, seeking fame and fortune and fuel for his ink-quill. And older women, of course.
Proficiencies
Kaguya Heritage [Unranked]❀❀❀❀❀❀
Kikuyō’s parentage is unknown, though it is probable that they are either long deceased or missing-in-action. He has always, however, been afflicted with random bouts of bloodlust—attesting, unbeknownst to him, to the Kaguya blood coursing through his veins. With the realization of his latent power, these bouts have become more frequent, usually thrumming forth at the first signs of combat.
Shikotsumyaku [Rookie]✿❀❀❀❀❀
Known for their formidable Kekkai Genkai, members of the Kaguya clan possess an utterly durable skeletal structure that they can manipulate to lethal effect. Kikuyō was shocked when, at thirteen, the first calling of his bloodline erupted from within, and it wasn't long before he had fully awoken to the extent of his inheritance. Still, the power is quite new, and he has yet to learn how to manipulate his skeleton beyond basic applications, such as jutting a spike from his palm, repairing tiny fractures, or hyper-hardening small areas of his naturally fortified bone.
Kenjutsu [Apprentice]✿✿❀❀❀❀
Kikuyō's two-sword style has been cultivated more through real-time combat than any formal training, adhering to the motto of “whatever works.” He began to learn dual-wielding after scoring two classy katana in a lucky wager, figuring it would be a shame to let either go to waste. His style makes ample use of feints, distracting with one blade before lashing out with the other, and years spent hustling in gambling dens has attuned him to the sly rhythms of sleight-of-hand, which naturally trickles into his swordplay.
As of recently, his Kaguya bloodright has granted his sword-style an added flavor. Extending small spikes along his fingers and palm lends a playfulness to his sword-grip, allowing him to strike from hand postures that would cause most to lose control of their weapon; many would find themselves unaccustomed to the unorthodox nature of his striking angles, as a result. With the palm spikes specifically, he can manipulate the tilt of his sword mid-slash and without any telegraphing movement of wrist or finger. As such, the trajectory of his blade can curve without warning, lending an elusiveness and unpredictability to his attacks.
Taijutsu [Rookie]✿❀❀❀❀❀
At the advent of his bloodline’s awakening, Kikuyō began to experiment with a self-concocted style of martial arts that employs his newfound prowess. Instead of throwing regular punches, he will harden the bones in his hands and extend spikes from his fingertips, weaving between four-finger nukite jabs and claw-like lunges (not swipes), each aiming to penetrate flesh, with the rare kick in-between. He likes to keep his footwork active, usually rocking irrhythmically from side to side, never stopping at any one place.
Stealth [Rookie]✿❀❀❀❀❀
Growing up on the back-streets of Iwagakure, Kikuyō picked up the basics of stealth naturally and long before he had begun his training in the academy. Skills like pickpocketing, shoplifting, and sleight of hand are all familiar territory to the trickster youth. Though he never had to be skilled enough to regularly evade the attention of trained ninja, and thus hasn’t advanced his skills in stealth beyond a certain point, he is nonetheless seasoned enough to take advantage of ordinary bandits and the like.
[attr="class","APP3"]
Vagabond
Kikuyō Kaguya looks like Seijuro Yoshioka.
Last Edit: Nov 17, 2021 18:22:11 GMT by Kikuyō Kaguya
