[attr="class","APP3"]Their struggle waged on as they clamped upon the other with a ceaseless duress, one holding the other and vice versa as they shook and fidgeted in this standing dance. Neither caved against the pressure as these venerable forces of natures warred on. Heavily forced and labored breathing had been utilized, their stamina warring through attrition and the burn of overexertion. Monstrous noises were parsed from between the lips of these battling titans as they remained locked upon the other, their growls guttural as they waged against the other with all their might. Then, from his gut, came the mightiest bellow from Seiichi as he dug deep and commanded all of his resolve. It erupted through him, pouring through his tightly gritted teeth until his jaw opened wide and the massive sound carried through. He yelled as if he commanded the Heavens to witness another marvel, whether it be his final night alive. He personified his rage with that mighty bellow, roaring if as he were the King of Beasts himself, reminding those who remained unconvinced of his role among them. A great deal of air had been expended in the process, his muscles to bulge and strain as every vein filled to the brim beneath his flesh as their efforts moved beyond doubling or tripling-- in fact, it was an exponential resolve of power that he tapped into as no fiber of his being was denied role in completing this herculean task.

And it seemed as if he had.

Seiichi bellowed still, as if his life were to end at any moment should he stop, and his feet dug deeply into the ground as the earth seemed to melt beneath those calloused pads. Utilizing his powerful core and strong back he hefted the beast up and over, heaving them briefly in the air before he fell back with a crashing thud that left no bristle, branch or beast unaware of just what occurred. It was a stomach churning collision, the beast themselves to cringe on impact as it stilled briefly in shock with only a groaning squeezing out, easing out slowly as if any expensed effort from here on would break them. Seiichi, too, was at a pained state as a fury coursed through his frame, that muscly bulk of his stressed beyond belief as the little sleep that fueled his actions and the reluctance to quite and catch his breath worked against him. Now, though, he had no choice as he turned over and snakingly stood back to his feet. It felt as if he took only fire for breath, his lungs strained from the massive breaths he took; the chest beneath his gi heaved as it expanded, expelling over and over again until he found one that would fit. His heart beat with the rataplan of an encaged beast, enraged and wanting free of its bars.

Then, with a sound of terror, the bear stumbled to get up and ran without a mention more. It raced off into the distance, its massive frame to move at a considerable speed as it fled the battle with all its original conviction tucked between its legs; in fact, it moved so quickly and with shock it hadn't even noticed the small male with his faux ears, a fine feast had it been any other time. Seiichi stood there, his stance solid as if he prepared for another round despite how his frame ached and cried for relief. His feet, heavily calloused by the sheer fact that he never wore sandals, eased out of his stance as they scrapped along the dirt. A slow and languid breath was taken, one devoid of the duress the others had to suffer through. The battle he had waged against the great bear was over, it seemed, as he was unsure if those sea-green eyes of his would ever see them again.

"Another one got away..."

That great voice of his rumbled, the words were dressed in a rich baritone and performed in that stentorian manner of speech which filled the clearing he had been in, slinking around the bends of the trees and disappearing off into the woods as if there were a challenge in it. He moved that statuesque frame of his forward, unaware of what else had lurked in the woods. It wasn't a direction chosen at random, but more for the fact that the weight of a gaze had not been felt on him from here. Little did he know that, indeed, another presence had existed with a talent in hearing that far exceeded his own-- one could not feel the weight of ears, of course. While his talents were numerous, he was but a normal man in many regards: hearing, sight, and smell were among his mundane talents as no clan or specialized bloodline propagated an advancement of their growth. Beyond the focus he could lend to those senses, there was no way or manner that they would ever evolve to afford him extreme advantage and he understood that. He moved forward, still, the presence of another unbeknownst to him unless something more obvious occurred or he even crashed into them.

The Jounin knew no enemy more foul than himself. Despite the strain felt in his muscles and the ache that plagued him in his core, he carried on as if he sought another beast to wrestle. It was clear that, in the pursuit of strength, there was a ceaseless ambition and a bottomless hunger that carried this goliath of a man forward on a fiery path meant for no man at all.

His existence was a dual one: a curse as much as it was a blessing, for even in the wake of his strength it teetered on comfort and isolation.

[attr="class","APP3"]The carrion oft' attracted vultures, more meek birds of prey -- but birds of prey regardless of the grandeur married to their gaits. It was hard to tell what Seiichi Koji was--in that regard--just as it was difficult to tell where these numerous shinobi fell as the space soon seemed abuzz with activity. These musings, though, mattered not as things were bound to reveal themselves, as they often would, when the action began. There had been faces he recognized with mild ease and others he had not known at all, the benefit of being active in his village's militia provided him with intel of the world around and Her numbering agents. Already there were taller blades of grass among the rest, commanding in their attention as they acted of their own volition while others were simply present and had to also be noted. The Kumo Jounin seemed the largest among the lot, taller and wider than most as he appeared on the scene with a gi stained in sweat and earth and the pelt of a great beast felled by his own hands christening his crown of disheveled hair, worn as an achievement as it should have outright been seen. A hook, along with pouches that housed varying ninja tools were also on his person as he had chosen to not neglect in preparation; from the hook hung his dangerous claws, frightful blades that spanned the length of his own great forearms with a sharpness that was useful for little else save crippling or maiming. For the duration of the journey, as he had not arrived alone, was spent on the backpedal as the genin of their merged group had advanced ahead at their own pace while Seiichi relegated his position to the back of the group and Kegawa somewhere in the middle of it; his positioning was as strategic as it was fitting to his own persona.

He listened as Kegawa commanded his great ninken forth, the beast low to the earth as it slithered around the massing forms that crowded to catch an eyeful of the great beast that had awoken, hopefully in time apprehend their genin before her fate could worsen. He liked her spirit, but it would take time to mold it into a proper mallet as to shatter the world with. Seiichi watched it with those sea-green eyes, a shadow cast over a portion of his stony visage as he analyzed the beast: it was more hulking than it seemed tall, however, the horn worn on its muzzle was stained darkly, a foreboding sign for those in its skewering path. It hadn't matched the reports given as the threat it commanded was enough to summon forth this battalion of active combatants, all specialist in a variety of disciplines with an itching to play in roles yet decided. The beast, though a sole rabble rouser than a venerable tsunami, was surely no monster to under mind. It had remained, hadn't it? Surely the expectation of responders coming to mollify the grievances of victims--be it in blood, life or property--bore as a possibility in its mind and, if only for that reason, a greater air of care was required in acting before it.

Seiichi stepped forth and moved beyond his group a few paces, the first time he had done so during the whole duration of their travel. He had been earshot of a man with a healthy statuesque, a Jounin of Iwagakure he gather, though his suggestion fell upon his ears as deaf mumblings as it had onto the pair of others. Dust had picked up around his bare feet when he had stepped forth, calloused thickly from the earth and immune to the discomfort rocks and uneven ground doled out. He eyed Kure and expected the extraction to go well, but was prepared to act with his weapon worn on his waist if he sensed anything other than success in the ninken's mission.

Thus he stood: stalwart and silent as if it were all he knew, only and forever. Though, where his mouth was inactive his mind was just the opposite: activity was taken by eyes that were both curious and jaded as they were tasked with assessing and noting while learned and dutiful ears listened and speculated-- even eavesdropping if he were in range.

[attr="class","APP3"]Legends knew not the borders of man, nor had they been sentient to what vehicles allowed them passage to the ears and minds of the unexpecting. With opportunity, they could be seized and woven into a mother's lullaby-- as to warn her darlings of dangers or they could tickle muse and ignite those capering yearns of wanderlust by being propagated, turned further to fable by illustrating beasts that could not live in nature. There was truth in all legends--albeit, what grain or boulder of it which manifested its essence was up for debate-- as one such legend was illustrated by a swathe of land, once isolated and guarded as a feature in far more legendary borders before the neglection of absence set in, the countless fauna and myriad of mammilla that inhabited it no longer under the perverse eye of man as they were allowed freedom and range over their own fates. It was a quality previously known to only the most exalted of beasts that lurked in that deathly domain: The Forest of Death.

Their reality was now challenged as man meddled dangerously once more, a classic cycle of life and death should they continue to share this mortal coil. It seemed that recent politics diluted the consequences of traversing borders as forces far-spread came together in a call of arms. However, it was no without conspiracy which bred in the ranks as those idle and placid moments before the storm provided the appropriate cocktail of circumstances to nurture a breeding ground of misinformation. They were all expected to act as if they were brothers beneath a specific banner, animosities at the blood level and disputes decades in their progress were to be laid to rest as each shinobi was to play avatar for their respective Kage, effectively a shadow of their mighty leaders who were hundreds if not thousands of miles away. Ultimately, men found common ground with wet lips and clouded minds and spook carelessly.

This was not the reality of Seiichi Koji, a venerable goliath with an uncommon statuesque. The ninja was built as if he were a very mountain himself, equipped with shoulders that stretched the base of one and mighty arms that swelled when his stance became taut in battle. With a wanderlust unlike many others and a desire to improve himself further with newfound opportunities, he forewent merriment and fair tidings and explored a realm of nightmares with little more than his gi and the pelt of a great, fallen bear atop a head of disheveled locks. He was unbothered here and little filter existed, much like the home he had been in the woods of his lightning country. With his very own eyes of sea-green he witnessed beasts that belonged in imaginative musings of children than in reality: horrendous serpents of unfathomable lengths and big cats that dwarfed even the burliest of ninken. Tirelessly he fought monsters of legend, turned crueler by their distinct lack of fear to a creature they had never seen before. Seiichi fought them all and, as he still drew breath into his lungs worn-well with exhaustion, had won every time.

The Jounin who kicked, punched and wrestled every threat was unlike many men before him and there were surely to be few like him when his era of activity would come to an end. Each battle reinvigorated him and he grew only stronger, refining his methods as he better bested these massive beasts unseen by more modern men. Eventually he could successfully bowl them over with shattering kicks and punches that forced them into unconsciousness or even wrestle them, as he had the bears in Kumo, into submission. As if a wild monster in these forests, Seiichi had now lived here for the past several days. He noted the pressure of their gazes mounting, the weight of their hunger thickened the air with a wild anticipation as they observed from a distance. It seemed as if they were learning, observing the man who wore a pelt fashioned from them locked against a bear, both in a trembling struggle as they exerted against one another to shake the confidence in their balance. It was difficult to tell who prevailed in this struggle, as both pushed forward with a fury in their legs.

But it seemed as if Seiichi succeeded, hefting air quickly into his lungs as his footing shifted and he twisted violently at the first sign of the bear's faltering balance. Lifting them off the ground he twisted and slammed its burly frame hard onto the earth and used its overwhelming weight against it, birds springing from their homes and perches by the whim of that quaking crash. Seiichi disengaged quickly, hopping back as he braced himself for the next round with the hopes of making it their last. He was none the wiser to the presence of another, his attention rightfully focused at the titanic threat ahead as he roused itself back to its paws, disoriented mildly by the crash.

Then they charged each other once more, both wearing varying wounds wrought from the primal struggle of their quarrel. He moved with unshaken resolved, the nightmares of others no longer threatening as he learned to fight them all.

[attr="class","APP3"]Seiichi's kick had landed after breaking through their guard with the aid of his overwhelming strength. They braved it with little time to brace proper for impact and incurred the penalty of damage. It was a mighty kick that cut through the air relentlessly and that transfer of energy seemed so great that he bowled over to Seiichi's left by will of that successful strike, severing his tie to the earth that steadied his stance and offered him the balance to execute what techniques were in the arsenal of his blade-style, be it kenjutsu or iatojutsu or any the many numerous arts and disciplines in swordsmanship. He tracked his opponent as he arched through the air, noting how their dervish of a twist in the air, perhaps the manner in which he lessened the impact of the powerful blow while generating distance. Be it of his own accord or the bewildering strength of the Kumo Jounin, the sword-wielding shinobi bought himself a rough distance of 5 meters and minimal damage.

Tch!

Despite the successful recovery, Seiichi left little opportunity open for strategy as he continued his duress. As he called out to the bear-pelted warrior, it was clear to the Jounin that the man's focus was elsewhere and not presently zeroed in on the threat he faced as either ignorance or inexperience left him to believe he could remain idle and speak. That goliath of the man continued to tear forth in his pursuit as the land beneath his feet was once more disturbed, stirred from the placidity of decay as he trampled over it as predator would in the chase of prey. His strategy was to overwhelm and swarm as he fought in quarters that disadvantaged the blade, particularly the fine one woven tightly in the man's grip that had sung against the claws the shinobi wore on first impact before forced back.

"Return!" he growled with only a little distance left. Pressing off with his leading foot, Seiichi leapt into a twist that brought him down with a spin that generated a great deal of momentum and therefore force as his naturally long reach and impressive size were utilized further as leverage in this attack. If he could successfully dodge it, Seiichi would land and duck into a twist and if the Jounin's sea-green eyes weren't alerted to the twitch of an arm preparing to swing then he'd lunged forward from his crouched position with a headbutt that could stun or stagger, hitting either chest or chin. If his opponent blocked it as he rained down with his assailment, then there was a real danger of losing his blade as the shinobi--who was an outright veteran in his unorthodox weapon--wielded two claws and could leverage his greater strength when slotting the thin blade between his second set of blades to twist and tear it from their grip if not damage the weapon altogether. Finally, there was the prospect that his opponent anticipates him and can move to strike first, effectively countering him if they had the mettle to charge a barreling bear of equal ferocity and force. Such an act would produce a different outcome and perhaps force Seiichi on the defensive for a change as their fight was still in its infancy.

[attr="class","APP3"]"Easy," his words were pronounced with a more notable dryness that seemed more befitting of his gravelly tones; in truth, the shinobi found no reason in speaking to explain himself further-- though he'd humor him, all the same. "Honor will make you."

!!!

It was then that he tore forward, the speed in which the Jounin performed his advance could prove the fuel of nightmares for those lacking in confidence and resolve. The dearth had been made airborne, dirt and the lifeless debris of the canopies to cloud behind him as he rushed to claim every foot of cushioning distance that separated them, zeroing in with a cold precision that offered no room for doubt as if he were the very tip of the arrow's head, shot forth by a peerless huntsman to still the heart of their latest prize. He ran with a lower center of gravity, leaning forward in this mad-dash with his claws crossed before him. Upon his approach, if his advance was met with a stalwart stance, his arms would unfurl before him, slashing outwardly as they crossed to cut in an "X" that was sure to leave even the finest crafted sword rattling from impact. If they braved the opening strike and had the courage and confidence to catch his claws before they had fully crossed in their devastating cut, then Seiichi would struggle back with a show of his impressive strength as each fiber worked to push forward and rip open his guard, where he could mount the advantage with a quick twist of his body to the right as to bring his leg up in a rounding kick to the man's left side, crashing powerfully against the side he assumed was less dominate leaning and, thus, less prepared to handle the impact of the kick with grace and poise.

However, if the man beneath the widely-brimmed hat managed to act first then the ninja of kumo would respond accordingly. A veteran of many conflicts, Seiichi was confident enough in his own ability to block and parry their strikes, but it wouldn't be until he could witness a handful more that he'd learn the rhythm, timing and speed of their strikes as to catch the blade and disarm him. A world apart from his more formal and unarmed styles of fighting, his unorthodox weapon and formless strikes made him a dangerous and difficult read. Regardless, the cry of ringing steel reinvented the atmosphere and fostered the appropriate conditions for advancement, leaving those who could answer that curdling cry to prosper.

[attr="class","APP3"]Just like that--incredibly--that's all it took. The two Jounin, who had been historically pitted at odds in the discretion of others, were able to put aside almost two decades of conflict-- in fact, it was an anniversary that was soon coming up. A lot had happened in that time, though not so much for Seiichi as he only grew as nature had intended he do and there were few interesting tales for him to recant, save all the times he had wrestled bears to feed and cloth himself. Apart from that, there were no stories of grand adventure or epics to be recanted in song for the astonishing or legendary feats he'd accomplished. It went without saying that, to this day, his diamond remained in the rough. However, it made no different to the ninja of Kumogakure as those vanities were never apart of the plan.

Seiichi watched as she closed the distance between them, wading carefully through the water. He caught the small parcel and, with surprisingly deft digits given how dense they'd been, he undid the string. It wasn't long before he raised it to the air, his head to tilt back as he dumped its contents into his own ravenous maw. Despite the naturally tough texture of jerky, often times resilient to chews that lacked the heart, the Jounin ate with no compromise. Seiichi had been used to these meals as drying bear meat often tied him over until the next one stumbled upon him. There was a difference. It was far tastier than anything he'd ever thrown together. There was a richness in the fat of the pork, a saltiness brought on by this method of preservation and, the most important thing of all, it was juicy.

He took the gourd back and would hold onto it, knowing well she wouldn't take it again. He could admit, sure, that there was a complexity to the flavor. It was bodied by the viscous molasses left behind from boiling sugar, though more complex herbs and spices altered the taste all together. Discarding her third insult, he took a drink. It was a heavy gulp, as was required to not choke on it. "Sensitive," he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I like it. I don't like to think I drink cow piss, though." He lamented in gravelly voice, a bold baritone. He was never a man of many words, but with the patience afforded by two decades, he theorized that if he said nothing intended to stoke ire... Perhaps she wouldn't, too; alas, it was hard to not come to blows. It was, after all, one of the things he did best.

"You aren't alone," Seiichi mentioned curtly. his eyes leaving Makoto for a spell as his alertness awoke. The weight of a gaze turned his stomach and he was inclined to believe something lurked. It was not unlike those glassy gazes in the woods of kumo, where the beady eyes of wildlife shamelessly gawked. He was wrong to assume Makoto had stowed a student of hers in the distance. "How many?" Students? Ninken? Cuts of pork jerky left? He did not clarify further. However, should her answer possess a semblance of truth, then the reconnaissance was a success-- assuming she'd tell nothing but the truth.

"Hmm. . ."

With the twisting of his brow he focused his vision. Was that shape... humanly?

[attr="class","APP3"]To the wind there was melody; each leaf, every twig and even the bare branch were responsible for ever minor part in every major chorus that sung onto the ears of those who listened to Her wonderful tune. Hers were tones that filled with vigor, roused so that they could ward from wounded souls the burden of day and the attritions warred by it. It was a rare respite but here, in nature, it was as common as how the sun rose from the east and turn to set in the west.

--

Curious musings they were, considering the task at hand. Seiichi had received word from the Raikage, specific ones. The way he spoke pronounced his words as if they were doctrine--carefully practiced--exhumed from between his lips that set forth an expectation: though, it turned out that the chuunin he had been tasked with following all took on curious responsibilities, ones that were to be executed beneath other eyes that were keen and watchful of their behavior-- this allowed him free time, and so he'd use it. He had come armed, vicious looking claws that were befitting of his grizzly appearance had been donned with purpose, clenched tightly in those heavily calloused hands; shafts of light that bled through the shifting canopy above that was made to sway from the suggestion of the wind brought it to gleam, perhaps to serve as a warning to those deductive enough of a threat that was to come.

". . ."

Seiichi analyzed with those jaded eyes of sea-green as he peered beneath the maw of his pelt, his visage stony and offering little to presume in way of his thoughts. As a ninja--though the attribute was curiously betraying given his imposing statuesque-- he was versed in an approach well doused with silence, the musing of mindful steps and short and shallowed breaths afforded these advantages. From where he stood, not more than a step beyond the clearing, he gauged his distance at 8 meters, unless the nukenin was ever vigilant and prepared to shift at a moments notice.

"Fine spot to practice." There was a rumble to his voice, a gravelly tone heralded the words he used to break ice. "How well do you use it?" The jounin asked, shifting into a stance that distributed his weight evenly and focused strength into his core, providing him advantage if he were needing to lunge forward or move swiftly to the side; alas, with no other words and little more than the combative stance Seiichi instigated with, it was difficult to glean whether or not he intended something more sinister as he postured himself with claws the length of his massive forearms. .