Shinme blinked, his back stiffening in surprise. For a moment his eyes flicked around the wide walls of the Rokuedaime’s office as he considered his response, “Possibly… one.”

Naruto’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, “Possibly?”

Shinme remained frozen at attention, his heels together and hands at his sides, “The Kusaki Mane is based upon my study of Shido clan tree growth control techniques, but as a combat ready ninjutsu it is almost entirely my own creation.”

Naruto nodded and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head and looking up at the sealing, “tell me about seal jutsu.”

“It is a simple matter to bind chakra into ink, the forms of the characters depicted with such ink may act in a manner similar to the hand seals used to perform jutsu with the substantial difference that…”

“No, I meant, tell me about your seal jutsu.”

“I have thus far researched and developed thirteen tenchu based jutsu in five categories four of which would be considered ‘curse’ seals and the last ‘summoning.’ Of those thirteen one was a failure and the others required a total of ninety eight attempts to complete…”

Naruto’s hand shot out. “You have attempted almost a hundred original jutsu?”

“No sir, I have attempted 17 original jutsu…”

“That’s not what I meant. You have made almost, no, over a hundred jutsu attempts. In how many years?”

“Approximately eight, sir.”

The Rokudaime’s head shook slowly side to side, and then he glanced down at his file. “So you were… seven when you started?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well… That is something.”

The silence lingered for just an instant too long. Shinme remained staring straight ahead. It was hot in the circular office where the missions were handed out, but no one there was sweating.

Naruto leaned forward again, “Shido-kun, there are lots of people who tell me I shouldn’t let you anywhere near a mission of this gravity, especially the good doctors down at the hospital. They think you can’t be trusted, and I know they base those assumptions on your actions with regards to Ebisu Akhito’s curse seal.”

Shinme’s face registered nothing, and his body remaining perfectly at attention.

“I think you deserve a chance to defend your decisions,” continued Naruto, closing the file before him and resting his interlocked fingers upon it. “I’m here now. Talk to me.”

At last Shinme moved, his forehead tilting slightly down and his brow furrowing as he thought back to the forest, to blurred memories of terrible pain, fear like shadows in the forest leaves, and a wickedly powerful enemy.

“It was a worst case scenario.” His voice was soft, “We were ambushed, hit hard. Several of us were wounded, myself included, and Hatake Minami was taken by the enemy. Things were confused, with no clear leadership. We sent Ichigo-sama back to Konoha for reinforcements and medical assistance, but Seritobi Zotsu had gone ahead without backup, and we had to hurry to catch up, least we lose him as well.

“I was slowing down the team. I let them go without me. I had two options, I could wait for backup I had to assume was not coming, or I could use the one jutsu I had that, if successful, would not only render me fighting capable, but may even have been enough to give my teammates the edge they would need should they engage the enemy again.” The young shinobi gave a minuscule shake of his head. “The consideration that the technique had not been tested was of no consequence. If it did not work, I would likely die. If it did, I would likely die, but would die in the service of my team. If I did not use it and help did not arrive, I would likely die anyway. In the best case scenario, were I to not use the technique, and help were to arrive, then all would be well, but I could not make that assumption. I had to act believing that it would not, even if I hoped it would.”

Shinme’s green striped white hair rustled slightly as he raised his gaze to meet the Hokage’s. “I stand by that decision, Sir. I would do it again if I had to.”

“Your dedication to your team is laudable, Shido-kun.” It was an old woman who spoke, leaning forward out of the shadows by the Hokage’s side, where she had remained silent throughout the exchange. “But one might question why you had access to such a jutsu in the first place.”

Shinme’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice showed no change: “It was a logical first step in my research to create a counter-seal.”

The old woman’s voice was a hatchet. “Really? Modifying the seal with an impermanency clause seems more like a weaponization attempt to me.”

“It is true that if the inverse counter contingency had bonded properly then the curse seal would have become a powerful weapon for just such circumstances as those I faced.”

“Then you admit-?”

“It was foolish,” Shinme spoke loudly, cutting her off. “It was foolish for me to attempt such a difficult operation. I lacked the necessary information, and the necessary experience. That mistake will not be repeated.”

“Enough.” Naruto’s soft voice cut through the tense air like a runner through the finish line. He leaned forward, placing a hand on the old woman’s shoulder, at which gesture she retreated again into her shadows. “Shido-kun, I’m going to give you another chance. You will accompany Zankon’s team as a consultant to Oshin village where the Keito clan lives. But remember, your job is to observe and advise, the instant things get hot, you get out.”

*

He had no idea how long he had been waiting, and it was raining hard. Shinme held his oily hair out of his eyes with one hand while he scanned the upper slopes of the hill outside Oshin village. The long rocky gradient was strewn with little patches of thistles that looked an awful lot like bodies in the intermittent flashes of lightning. Shinme once again tried to brush his hair back, but it wouldn’t stay put. His white clothes were covered from tip to toes in thick brown mud, and as his hand brushed his face some of it got in his eye. He blinked hard, trying to find something to wipe the watering oculus with, and settling at last for tilting his head back and letting the pouring rain beat at his face.

The mission had gone to hell. They had arrived only that evening, and it felt like weeks ago. Disguising themselves as farmers they had split into two teams and ventured into the little village for some preliminary reconnaissance. Shinme had gone with Zankon, the team’s Jounin leader, and Uzetsu and Honbo, both chuunin, had spit apart. The first things they had noticed were the brothels. There were twelve, and they were not mentioned in the intelligence report. That twelve brothels could spring up in a tiny little town like Oshin in less then the three weeks since konoha’s spy had sent his report was weird, and the team had proceeded with caution. Their mission was to ascertain the nature of the weapon research being conducted within the Keito, and judge it’s danger to Konoha nin. They couldn’t help but suspect that the town’s sudden carnal fascination was somehow related.

Shinme lowered his eyes again to the village as he let his memory play back the events of the previous day. They had asked around, talked to locals, chatted with farmers, shared drinks at the local tea houses, and learned nothing at all. The locals were closed lipped, the tea houses were all but empty, and the farmers were as confused as they were. The brothels had been good for business, there was no doubt about that. The town was full of lusty eyed vagrants, but they knew and wanted to know nothing.

It had been just after dark when Zankon had decided to try examining one of the establishments from the inside.

Shinme was suddenly pulled back to the present as a huge burst of fire shattered the tree line across the town from his position and floated like a balloon up into the rain drenched darkness. For a moment it lit the whole village like daylight, then the shockwave hit.

*

The rain was splashing in through the bamboo barred windows. Uzetsu could hear each drop land in the growing puddle like boulders falling into the ocean. He remained where he was, every muscle frozen in agonizing anticipation, his senses strained to the limit, and his eyes focused hard on the narrow nosed old man that stood like a judge before him.

“You have pretty eyes boy,” the old man spoke through sparse rotten teeth, “reminds me of my grandson. You’ll do very well here… very well indeed.”

“Oh?” Uzetsu flashed his most charming smile like a pearl hilted silver dagger in a dark room, “I bet your boy gets all the girls.” It was meant to be a joke, but it was surely the wrong thing to say.

“Not anymore.” Came the whispered reply, “an nor will you. Sure you friend’s gonna be ok? I think he’s in trouble.”

“You haven’t got time to be worryin’ ‘bout my friend, old man. You’ve gotta worry about me.”

“Is that so? Well maybe I don’t have that time, boy… but outta respect for you, I’ll give you a second or two.” There came the horrid gap toothed grin.

Before Uzetsu could reply there was a flash of red light from the bamboo barred windows, and an instant later the shockwave hit.

*

Zankon was fighting three at once when he saw the explosion. He hit the ground hard, throwing his arms over his head and when the shockwave tore past it felt like a giant clawed hand raked down his back a couple hundred times in a second. The sky howled, the earth shook, and then it was over. He stood up. His enemies were gone, and so was pretty much everything else. He had been in a forest, now the twisted trunks of trees lay scattered about in concentric circles, branches in neat rows and all pointing towards the blackened crater that lay less then a hundred yards away.

He looked around, his eyes swimming in the smoky steam, this was Honbo’s work – it had to be. His team’s explosives expert was the only man Zankon knew who could manufacture an explosion of that magnitude, but the why was a more pressing matter. Reaching down into the muddy depression his body had left in the soft soil he lifted his three piece staff and contracted it, fitting the two chain linked ends into their hubs and then sliding the unified weapon into its case on his back. He could feel that the leather was cut up pretty badly, but it held.

Then the rain came back down exactly like somebody slapping him over the head with a lukewarm waterbed. When his head cleared he lifted himself slowly from the ground, trying to brush the tree bark out of his sideburns and the impression the log he’d landed on had made in his face. The explosion must have lifted the raindrops, he realized, and then it came back down like a club.

Zankon worked his torn shoulders as he swept the tortured hillside with his eyes. Honbo had to be nearby. His head was ringing like a bell but he still figured his best course of action would be to try to meet up with his teammate and reassess based on their shared information. There was no doubt, he knew, that they had to pull out, but they needed to find Uzetsu first.

If the white haired genin kid had done has he’d asked, then things might just work out ok.

*

In the instant that the world shook the enemy lashed out. Uzetsu ducked under the old man’s first lightning fast attack so quickly that he never even saw what it was. He came back up swinging with a left hook that the geezer dropped under, his wiry left leg swinging for Uzetsu’s knees in a sweep that the young ninja leapt lightly over, planting a kick in his enemies face and watching with satisfaction as teeth and spittle sprayed backwards. His satisfaction didn’t last long. He felt the sword before he saw it and Uzetsu barely had an instant to twist his body in the air. The cold steel cut against his stomach, but he pushed away with his foot in his enemies face and flew back to land at a safe distance.

The old man grinned, even more toothless then before. Uzetsu fingered his torn shirt. It had been a nice shirt. He had paid a great deal of money for it, probably, he had to admit, more then it was worth. The old man’s movements were fast; that had been far too close. Oh well, he sighed, the shirt was ruined anyway. He tore it off.

*

There was someone coming. It was more of a fleeting impression then a real intuition – a branch quivered as a foot struck it, a bush wasn’t hit by rain for just an instant – Shinme would not have noticed if he had not been waiting for just such signs, and still not if the tiny disturbances hadn’t happened in a straight line. He rolled on to his back, clutching the all important seal scroll to his chest and scanning the darkness with watchful eyes, listening hard to the rustle of tree branches in the rain, and the whisper of roots in the soil.

The attack came almost completely without warning. A hundred silver needles dropped with the rain out of the heavens and buried themselves in Shinme’s chest and arms with little slithering metal sounds that weren’t loud enough to be heard over the roar of the storm. He gave a soft grunt, and then a puff of smoke revealed his deception and a log like a pincushion rolled slowly down the empty muddy impression of his body – shattering the needles one by one.

Shinme watched the needles break from the shadows of a tree’s lower branches. A rain jutsu… Ice perhaps? That did not seem right. He didn’t have time to think. The tree gave a tortured complaint as needles tore at its leaves and Shinme leapt hard to get clear just as another battery of the silver darts poured down from the sky.

Definitely a rain jutsu – the falling drops were becoming weapons. But where was the enemy? As Shinme’s feet struck another tree branch he stuck there, and closed his eyes in concentration. The whispers of the life of the forest grew strong in his awareness – a tree to his right had a squirrel sleeping in it, down by the roots off behind him, no, that was a fox, a… nest in the branches above him… Another quiver of pain through the tree below him warned him just an instant before the needles struck and Shinme let gravity take him down, swinging round the branch and hanging from its underside where he watched the deadly rain pour past. How were they reading his movements? The other attacks were short, this one sustained… meant to pin him down. There was no way it was random. Then he saw the puddle on the ground above his head pounce like a tiger. He let it come.

Lightning flashed and the simultaneous tear of thunder left echoing dregs in the sky. Shinme stood upside down on the tree branches bottom, every muscle quivering with deadly struggle – locked blade to blade with his enemy, and looking straight into the golden pools of her eyes. For an instant they remained there motionless, then Shinme’s left hand moved in a blurr and the tree echoed him; the branch on which they stood leaned up, and then dashed itself against the ground. She was closer to the end, and she hit first – giving a soft little scream, and then exploding into a thousand drops of clear water.

A water clone? Shinme twisted and threw with his left arm, and the tree complied: launching him like an arrow through the night. He spun in the air, and another tree caught him gently as a mother catches a falling glass, and then uncoiled again to catapult Shinme into the sky. He had to confuse them, hide himself and then discover his enemy’s location. He could not defeat an enemy he could not see.

Then he noticed; the seal scroll was gone. The all-important seal that Zankon had entrusted to him – the curse that was burned into the skin of every courtesan in the village, and all the notes Shinme had drawn concerning its purpose had been taken: and he hadn’t even noticed.

Anger and dread churned in his stomach, and as he caught himself again in the branches of the forest canopy he reached out in his mind to the trees.

“Find her,” he whispered, “help me find her.”

She was no longer trying to hide her presence, fleeing like a sparrow straight towards the heart of the town.

Shinme’s brow furrowed and his eyes widened. There was only one reason she would drop all pretenses to stealth. He looked out across the rocky slope crowned with trees and watched her distant lithe figure hurry carelessly down. Then, in a flash of lightning, he saw it. The whole town was a seal – a carefully crafted curse seal – and its purpose was perfectly clear. Shinme’s heart froze in his breast.

Then the forest whispered to him of a hand against a tree’s trunk, a foot fall across a hollow log, a tremor in a willow’s roots – there were many enemies hidden amongst the trees, and they were hunting him.

*

Zankon found Hanbo only a little ways from the crater, intertwined with the twisted upper branches of a once mighty evergreen. There was blood coming from the explosives expert’s ears, and both of his arms and many of his ribs were badly broken, but he was alive.

Zankon lowered his teammate’s bald head carefully to the soggy ground and wiped mud from his mouth. “Hanbo… Hanbo can you hear me?”

There was no reply, his old friend was out cold. It was distasteful, but Zankon needed information. From a pocket in his vest he pulled a tiny vial, unstopped it, and waved it just once under the comatose ninja’s nose.

Hanbo’s eyes opened only a crack, but he coughed blood and spoke. “Zankon?” His voice was thick and wet. “Damn…”

“Don’t you die on me, Hanbo.” Zankon leaned close and grabbed his friends head in both hands, his eyes only inches away. “You will live through this. Your job is to take all the teasing Uzetsu’s got in him. Don’t you DARE leave me to deal with that smart-ass alone.”

Honbo almost smiled, “Ss rry.”

Zankon could feel the blood seeping and sticking between his fingers and the smooth skin of his friend’s scalp. “Don’t be sorry. Kick ass.”

“Foun’ a s sspy. Prty… girl. Said she’d… help…”

Zankon nodded. He felt like a translucent vale was being slowly lifted from his vision. Suddenly things were starting to make sense.

*

Uzetsu exploded through the bamboo barred window and landed hard on his back, skipping once before he came to a halt against the wall of the building across the muddy street. In an instant he was on his feet and in a fighting stance, shaking his head to clear it. Blood oozed from dozens of shallow cuts across his bare torso and arms. The pain helped him focus.

Again there was the flicker of silver and the hiss of a blade through the air where no blade should have been. Uzetsu threw his arms up to protect his face just in time and felt the swords edge bite deep into the black carapace that protected his forearms, sending tiny fragments of bone-like armor flying through the rain. He leapt back; kicking off the wall of the building behind him and landing a dozen yards down the road, arms lifted protectively.

The old man turned slowly towards him, straightening from the striking stance that had just battered Uzetsu’s defenses. No sword was visible about his person – he was unarmed and unharmed. There was a flicker of light from his chest, and Uzetsu saw for the first time a pulsing white crystal bound there by a silver chain. The light from the crystal illuminated the old man’s toothless grin.

Uzetsu’s hands flicked through a series of seals. “Perfect bugform armor technique,” he whispered, his breath coming harshly through his throat as the skin on his bare chest and face split and peeled back, revealing a shinning black carapace that hid all but his eyes.

“How many times ‘ave you used that now, boy?” The yellowed gums spat the words. “You can’t keep up with me. Might as well forget it and die in a clean blow rather then by the pain of a thousand cuts.”

Uzetsu’s face was impassive behind his mandibled mask, but his wide blue eyes were hard. “You’ll never reach a hundred, old man. You’ll never beat me, you know why? -Because I’m so damn beautiful. Come, old goat, see the true strength of Aburame Uzetsu.”

The toothless red maw gaped wide as lightning arched across the sky, and before the shimmering spike’s tip had even brushed the clouds again the old man’s sword had found blood.

*

Shinme sprinted madly down the slope. The seal around the village changed everything; his counter seal was worthless now, but the scroll Zankon had found in the geisha’s quarters was still necessary, and the fleeting shadow that raced ahead of him had stolen it.

He remembered the Hokage’s orders, to stay out of trouble, to stay out of combat. But he had no choice. There were enemies on all sides, and work yet to be done.

*

The ‘female nin’ slipped quickly through the falling raindrops, feeling the wetness against her face and treasuring it like a cold shower after a hot day. The smell of the storm and the wet earth washed over her, and she felt a measure of calm despite the overwhelming odds against her. She had the scroll, now all she needed was to escape with her life.

She had no idea who the ninja was she’d just fought, Shinobi usually worked solo or in teams of three, and that a fourth konoha nin would wait silently by the edge of town seemed out of place. The kid hadn’t felt strong enough for this sort of a mission either. It made her wonder if they really knew what was at stake.

Still, there was something odd about him, something that caught her attention. He was… definitely still following her. His presence became suddenly clear as he too threw all caution to the winds. He was a lot closer then she’d expected.

She reached the town’s makeshift gates and cleared them at a bound, hearing the dismayed shouts of the guards below.

It really was a small town, and one in which she’d already spent far too much time. But she had no choice; the slopes of the hill behind her were swarming with enemies, and the hill opposite was crowned with the huge crater and the twisted remains of the laboratory she’d convinced the bald one to destroy. That area too would likely be crawling with foes. Her best option was to find a group of locals out to ogle the crater and join them. Disappear, lay low for a few days, and then head back home to hidden mist to give her report. There was no doubt the konoha nin would receive a word or two of praise, she couldn’t have done it without them.

She turned a corner and saw a gaggle of bleary eyed civilians milling about in the street. She grinned, and then the world around her suddenly turned red.

*

Uzetsu sensed a presence above him and threw his sluggish eyelids open to see Zankon standing there. Pain wracked his lacerated body but he still managed to conjure a wide white smile.

“You’re late, Captain.”

Zankon spoke loudly, his voice geared to carry across the roll of thunder. “Keito Nakaakan, head of the Keito clan. You found yourself one hell of an opponent, Uzetsu.”

The old man stood waiting amidst the pouring rain, unflappable and inevitable.

“You ain’t kiddin, mon Capitan.” Uzetsu rolled heavily unto his knees and spat blood, craning his neck to look over towards the rain blurred enemy. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t find Hanbo.”

“Don’t be sorry. Kick ass.” Zankon placed one hand under his friends shoulder and lifted him to his feet, eyes fixed on the apparition before him. “I found your buddy for you. The explosion was his, he found a girl, she led him to a lab, he blew it up.”

Uzetsu snorted a laugh then choked on blood. “… sounds like typical blunder-headed Hanbo.” He said in a rasp. “What do we do now, Captain?”

“You rest there, find your strength, then back me up.” Zankon’s voice rang out again over the dull roar of rain, “Keito Nakaakan, your fight is with me.” He strode forward, freeing his three part staff and only barely hearing Uzetsu’s whispered warning.

“Careful captain, he’s got some sort of crystal thing – gives him power.”

“I know, Hanbo told me.”

The old man grinned and raised the crystal in one hand. “Aid me brethren!” He shouted, “There are enemies amongst us!”

Uzetsu almost laughed, “Who, the peasants?”

Then the crystal gave a flash of light, and the world around them suddenly turned red.

*

Shinme froze atop the rickety town gate midway through leaping and his knees nearly buckled under him from the force of his sudden deceleration. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the city-wide curse seal blaze suddenly to amber life.

They were insane. He had to shut it down. The brands on every townsman’s neck, on the geisha’s backs, the angry looks, the closed mouths and sorrowful eyes – he’d known they were all tied together but he’d had no idea how, until now.

From the flickering shades of the red lit village a hundred voices suddenly screamed in anguish; a ragged cry that started deep in bowel churning primal terror and rose up the spine to end in a teeth shivering howl of rage and hate. Then there was silence. The rain had stopped.

Shinme hesitated only for an instant on the wall’s top, then sprang forward: passing over the wide alley and landing on the thick hatch of a nearby hut before leaping forward again. He knew the curse wouldn’t affect him. He had nothing to fear from the hellish red light the emanated from every street, but the air was full of deadly portent. He could feel the raw bloodlust radiating towards him without even the slimmest façade of restraint. They were coming from every direction; he could hear the patter of rough shod feet and the raw breath of the truly desperate echoing in the empty streets. There was no going back now – no way out but in – but that had been true since they had first set foot in this accursed town.

A flash of silver caught his eye and he spun in the air as the night was suddenly full of screaming. …A last shower of rain? No… the rain nin’s jutsu. She was in trouble. So it was true: she was not Keito – Another spy perhaps? In an instant his mind flashed through a hundred scenarios and contingencies, and in that instant a thick calloused hand caught his foot and he was torn from the air like a pigeon in a cat’s claws.

*

Zankon’s movements were a blur of hissing wood and steel. The three piece staff spun in his hands – each chain linked end a separate whirr of deadly activity replicated in triplicate as the blurred afterimage of his movements took on life of their own. He threw a hissing steel shod strike towards his enemy’s right flank and his afterimage came up from the right. His shadow came around from the left and he dropped one spinning staff end down from above. Zankon was fast, he’d once killed six men in two seconds, and with the illusion that hid and multiplied his attacks he was all but impossible to defend against. But no mater how many strikes flashed through the fluid space between him and his enemy the old man refused to take a hit, and the wide red maw refused to stop grinning.

Sweat was beading on Zankon’s forehead. The silver blade flashed again and the Konoha jounin leaned desperately away, feeling the flick as it left his wide right sideburn considerably shorter. His staff spun and one end flashed above the old man’s head as the kaito nin lifted a wiry foot to avoid the simultaneous attack from Zankon’s fleeting clone and kicked hard through the an illusionary face. If the kick created an opening in the old man’s defense it went by so fast that Zankon never saw it. Always an instant behind, he tried another series of perfectly timed simultaneous strikes starting against the old man’s shin and moving randomly in from every conceivable direction to strike at face, arms, chest and legs. The attacks should have left his antique enemy bloody on the ground but instead it touched only air as the illusive master avoided every one, illusionary or no.

There was no time to make hand seals, no time to think, not even an instant in which to retreat. Zankon and his horrible nemesis were lost to the world, locked in a deadly, perfect struggle, never more then a hair’s breadth from death. Then the one enemy suddenly became a hundred.

Black bruised and bleeding hands reached for Zankon from every direction. His staff struck some by sheer chance and they withdrew bloody stumps with howls that pierced the thin veil of his concentration like a thrusting dagger through soft silk. Without even a tiny pause he lashed out around him, laying into the sweaty faces with their rage filled eyes like a double-armed scythe into wheat, but the moment his world widened to include the hundred enemies the one struck like a snake. Zankon froze and stared wide eyed down at the shimmering steel blade that had entered his gut, and come out the other side. His shocked eyes rose from the bloody blade to meet his opponent’s victorious leer, and then his lips widened into a deadly smile. The victory vanished from the old man’s face and his eyes grew wide, suddenly registering fear. Their exchange lasted less then an instant. The hands were still reaching for Zankon, and the blade was still stuck through his gut, but he hadn’t died yet, and he wasn’t planning to.

*

Shinme’s wooden sword tore through another arm as he danced and spun wildly through the night. His attackers kept coming, tall, thin, short, stout, fat, old or young, some barely children, some bald and spotted with age, none were shinobi, none had any skill or training, but there was a hateful power in them that lent their attacks an animal speed and deadly strength. Again and again a new enemy emerged from the red-tinged shadows, faced contorted with power and teeth dripping with spit to swing wildly at him. He was not skilled at this sort of mad melee; it took all his concentration to stay alive.

A flailing punch struck him in the forearm and he felt the bone crack, but the force of the blow sent him tumbling safely away from the mad eyed berserker – a fat man with a comb over and breath that smelled like onions.

The seal had done this. A weapon, they had suspected, but they’d had no idea. A technique to bind the burgeoning life-force of the fetus in the instant of conception: such a simple idea, but so difficult to accomplish.

He landed hard and rolled quickly to his feet, eyes searching the wide street for an escape. Bodies lay strewn here and there, blood pooling beneath them, but for each enemy he cut down he had only a moment’s respite before another sprang up.

There was a flicker, and then a series of explosions that shed gory shrapnel from the street parallel to his; the mist spy was still alive. A head fell out of the sky to land with a wet thud in the mud beside him, cracking like a melon and releasing a little puff of steam. For an instant Shinme glanced down at the face staring up at the uncaring sky. It had been a woman, her eyes frozen wide in a face that would have been beautiful.

He had to end this. The seal was channeling the stored energy drained from the unborn children of the brothels into the citizens of the town. It was the ultimate desperation tactic, a berserker curse that would turn the most humble of men into a powerful weapon, and render the town as a whole nearly impregnable. It had to be stopped. The seal could be disrupted, but he had to think. If it was done wrong then there was no way to tell what would happen to the hapless subjects. There was a lot of power involved, messing with the seal would be like crossing live wires on an active bomb.

His own voice echoed up from the well of his memory, and he recalled the flickering shadows of the leaves in the sunlight, and the mistake that had nearly cost him his life.

Another screaming face lunged at him, and in an instant he made his decision. Leaping over the awkward attacker he raced towards an adjoining alley, dodging a wild-eyed and rake thin shopkeeper in one quick step and taking the head off a silk robed lawyer with a strike that shot hot pain up his broken arm along the way.

He found her in the midst of a pack of needle-riddled enemies, surrounded by crawling, disabled bodies pushed far past the brink of human endurance. Her back was to a wall, a kunai in her hand, and her arms covered to the shoulders in blood.

With a flick of his wrist he scattered a handful of tiny seeds amongst the churning animalistic mass as he leapt lightly over them to stick sideways to the wall above her head. Shinme’s lips formed soft words as his fingers twisted through seals, and then the seeds suddenly exploded into growth. Tiny shoots took root in the ruptured flesh of the berserkers bodies, burrowing though muscle like soil and bone like stone to grow like green fireworks in the red light. It was over in a couple of seconds, and a twisted thicket of bloody briars stood where the wild enemies had once been.

He looked down, and the yellow eyes of the rain nin flashed gold in the red light, staring back up.

No words needed to be spoken; the understanding between them was immediate, and by that look they knew everything they needed to.

They ran like hell.