Jiro Island (004)

[Gutsy]

ACT ONE: Rescue Lord Hideyoshi

1: The Warrior’s Code​

Story Elements:

• Fight an enemy much stronger than yourself (S-rank)
• Steal valuable information from the enemy (A-rank) -> Details on future invasion of Formosa.
• Survive a near-death situation (S-rank)

---

The Warrior’s Code​

Akhwera’s account of the first hours of the invasion of Jiro.

The forge sang before the bell did. I had the morning heat just right, hammer finding a steady rhythm, when the wind shifted. I was spending the morning hammering the steel of new katana, its red hot sheen lighting up the forge. The wind carried salt and pitch, and something colder that did not belong to Jiro. Then the western watch bell began its hard, even toll. Not an alarm, it was a summoning.

From the terrace road I could see the whole harbor below Himeji’s white walls. Fishermen ran with nets still dripping. Mothers called children inside. Far out, dozens of black hulls cut toward the island in a perfect line, sails like slate, the suns rays being absorbed by the black canvas. On each mast, an emblem of a sword wrapped in fire.

Lord Toyotomi Hideyoshi received me as I entered the map room, among the ones gathered was his most trusted captains with ink on their sleeves. He was already armored, black plates with streaks of rain, his grey hair bound in a tight ponytail.

“You smell of iron, Akhwera” he said. “Good. Today iron will decide.” He turned the brush. “Their commander is Taira, called the Blazing Blade. He intends not only conquest. He desires to learn our ways, then carry them to Formosa. A scout died to tell us their vanguard keeps a ledger of routes and lessons. Bring me that knowledge or break its chain of custody. Do either, and you buy this island time.”

I bowed. “I will stand, and I will live to stand again.”

“Go friend,” Hideyoshi said, setting a hand on my shoulder. “Make the sea our ally.”

---

Iron against Steel​

By the time I reached the Western shores, the Legion had already made landfall with their craftsmen diligently setting up pikes along the shoreline. Their soldiers shields locked and spears pointed inland. Their men raised timber ramps and the heat rolled off a single rider at the waterline in blood red scale, helm crowned with a crest of flames. Not Taira, but it was one of his handpicked commanders. He moved his sword once, a clean salute. and a whole line roared as one creature.

A horn answered from the inland road. Hooves cloppering on stone, it was Lord Hideyoshi who crested the hill with his vanguard. Fifty ashigaru and twenty mounted retainers, their armor shining white and their white ribbons waving in the wind. He saw me and lifted his blade.

“Akhwera,” he called, voice cutting through surf, “with me. We break their first landing, or we will not live to breathe again!”

I slipped into the line at his right shoulder. Katanas hissed from their scabbards like a field of grass bending to the same wind.

The first shock felt like a door slamming in my chest. I slipped under a spearpoint, slapped the pole with my scabbard to bend it away, and came up inside the shield barrier. My knee lifted hard into the stomach of the knight in front of me. The man’s breath broke with a wet sound. I stole his balance with a heel hook and cut his stomach open, as his insides plummeted into the sand. The next spear thrust slid past my ribs and rang off the plates at my back. Sweat and salt filled my mouth, every step was sand trying to pull me down.

“Press forward,” Hideyoshi called, voice steady. His horse crashed a shield, iron shoes ripping the shield free. We folded into the gap. Close combat in a tight space. Elbow to the throat, head, bridge of his nose. My scabbard slamming across knuckles. There was nothing pretty about this, only survival.

The Legion took the blow and answered with discipline. Their rear ranks stepped forward as one, shields together in a tight wall, spears set to a measured tick. Their craftsmen pushed the ramp like a shrine, slow and unstoppable. The red crested knight stalked the center, his longsword banked with dull heat.

I let the world shring to my hands. I tore the cap from a gourd at my belt and dashed palm of ash out in a low arc while I moved. In that moment, the beach popped and flashed with angry light. Men stumbled as the ash found joints and scorched eyes, as it ignited and several of the knights were blasted back into the sea, drowning as their own weight bore them down under the waves. I felt the grit slither under my own soles and rode it, hips low, toes gripping through the sandals. A retainer to my left falter. I caught his collar and shoved him back into stance before a spear could pierce through his ribs.

Kayakuton: Kono burō | Gunpowder: Blow This

Spoiler

Type: Offensive/Defensive/Supplementary
Rank: C-S A
Range: Short-Long
Chakra: 15/40 30
Damage: 30/80 60
Description: The most rudimentary technique of the element. By focusing Gunpowder chakra throughout their body, into the surrounding ground, the user is able to create tools and constructs made of Gunpowder. These can range from kunais to full length swords and spears for close combat. It may also include different traps such as rising gunpowder from beneath the enemy similarly to the water imprisonment technique. This also includes pillars, walls and other complex constructs. Whenever the user is in physical contact with his creations, he can at will make it change its shape and form; from a sword to a spear or a pillar to an orb etc. (this does not include rank of the jutsu which remains the same no matter what the technique morphs into). The techniques vary in size and power depending on the amount of chakra utilized, where the S-rank version of this technique allows someone to make jutsus as big as the canon ‘Destructive Earth Rising Pillars’. However when these constructs come into contact with any form of fire or an element that can create heat or a flame, these constructs explode immediately. The user can at will cause a weapon in his hand or any construct on the field, which he has made through this jutsu, to immediately explode (costing 5 chakra). The user can make multiple objects but the power is divided between them, for example if the user makes two swords with the A rank use, each sword will be B rank in power.

When these constructs explode, with the explosive power of gunpowder, the release shockwaves around proportional to the size of the technique that was detonated. These shockwaves contain no chakra and are just a result of the detonation, carrying the same rank as the jutsu used. Techniques B rank and below release a shockwave 5m around the gunpowder. A ranks release an shockwave up to 10m around the blast. S ranks and above release a blast 15m around the explosion.Should the user create an A rank construct, when it's detonated but the user or another means, the blast will release a shockwave 10m around, which is a double edge blade, as the user will be struck if within range.

Note:
- S-rank versions can be used 3 times per match. With 2 turns between uses. No gunpowder above A rank in the following turn. A-rank can be used 4 times per battle.
- C-rank can be done with hand gestures. B-ranks require a single hand seal. A-ranks require 2 hand seals. S-ranks require 3 handseals.

A shield hit my shoulder, scraping against my clothes and almost discolating my shoulder. My teeth clicked. I caught the edge with my left hand used my right forearm as a bar, twisted my hips and dropped my weight. The man attached to the shield came down with it, face first into my rising knee. Something within his helmet cracked. I did not look back to watch him fall. Another spearman tried to skewer my ankle. I stamped his speahread into the sand and cut the shaft clean, then slid and sliced into his temple. He folded without a sound.

“Ramp,” Hideyoshi warned.

I saw it pitching closer on its rough cut wheel. I performed a single hand seal as the strewn ash came together under the ramp, the ignition swatted the men off their feet and buckled the wheels. A second explosion went a heartbeat later under the axle. The ramp hiccuped, then spilled into the ash sown shore. The shields of the knights flew, and hands searched for their swords.

Out of the explosion strode the red knight, running the line of our banner like a needle through cloth. He swung for Hideyoshi’s knee. I stepped into the cut and took it on the flat side of my blade. The force rattled and pushed me back several meters in the sand. He rolled his wrist and hooked with the shield, it rang my ribs like a bell. My whole right side went hot and numb.

“Draw him,” Hideyoshi yelled. he had already turned his horse sideways to cover the standard. I nodded because talking would have been a cough of blood.

The Red Knight came with the confidence of a strong man who knew he was stronger. I gave him angles that stole a fraction of his power each time. Not enough. He pressed without overreaching. His heat guttered when it needed to and flared when it would blind, causing temporary blindness and scorching my skin. I cut low for the inside of his knee, trying to take the hinge. Steel sparked from greave. He did not flinch. His reply was a pommel that crashed into my ribs where the shield had kissed me. My grip went slick.

“Back,” Hideyoshi ordered. The horn sang twice. Our line stepped away in time, no panic, blades still working. I staggered up the dune at a crouch, dragging breath back into my chest through my teeth. As the Legion pressed into the space we left, I snapped a seal and set two more charges to cough beneath the ramp’s re-set. A low, ugly shudder rolled the timbers and pitched a dozen men into the sand. It bought heartbeats, not minutes.

Hideyoshi reined alongside me. The old fox was bleeding from the ear and did not seem to notice. “You have an errand,” he said. “Go.”

I looked once at the line. He read my face and did not soften. “Go.”

I swallowed the taste of iron and obeyed. The code requires the choice that costs more pride.

I ran low behind the dune, cut left into the rock, and let the island take me.

Stone closed around me like water. The roar of surf became a deep drum. I felt the world as vibration against my skin. Feet thudded. Ropes creaked. A chest thumped, heavy and careful. Voices rode through the seams in the shale, vowels rounder than ours.

“Formosa by rice harvest.”
“Penghu staging. Tamsui mouth, Taijiang inner shoals.”
“Tutors first. Do not desecrate shrines until primer complete.”
“Geis-lock on the ledger. Quartermaster key. Or the Blazing Blade.”

I rose where stone thinned and linen flapped above my head. The command pavilion grew like a mushroom after rain, lines tight, stakes true. Four men set down an iron chest with three hammerheads stamped in a ring. The quartermaster hovered, keys chiming. A scribe trotted off to relieve himself, satchel bouncing. His guard leaned his spear on a crate and rolled his shoulders until his neck popped.

Two quick steps and I was in the space behind them. My right hand found the spear butt at the balance point and flicked it up into the soft spot under the guard’s skull. He sagged into my left forearm. I turned with him so his armor did not clatter on the crate. The scribe pivoted, mouth already making the shape of surprise. I caught his jaw with my palm and pressed a thumb under the ear. He slept.

I took three tubes from the satchel and the copy slate. The wax seals glared at me. The cook station around the tent line hissed. I held the caps near a steaming ladle long enough for the stamps to soften, unrolled, read fast.

Black-Oar Anchorage. Second wave six weeks behind. Road junctions and granaries first. Avoid the mountain tribes for one month. Names of elders likely to turn. A note to keep blades out of temples until their mouths carried our words.

I sealed the tubes again with ash paste from my pouch and a press of my signet to hide the stretch. The slate went into my inner sash. The tubes dropped back into the satchel like stones into a pond. I tucked the men under a linen rack, straightened the drape, and slid away into the smell of ink and oil.

A horn cut the air, lower than any I had heard that day. The heat in the camp changed. The Blazing Blade had come ashore.

I could have left then. I had the route names and the tide window. It was enough to save Formosa months of blood. But the Legion’s rhythm was building again. If I let it climb the cliff with a clean pulse, its ladders would kiss Himeji’s lower wall before the hour turned. I had one more theft to make. I needed to steal time.

I climbed.

The goat path ran up the knife-back cliff above the beach, a track almost too narrow for breath. Wind peeled the sweat from my face and left salt. I set a flare arrow in the notch and touched it with a coal. It hissed away, bright and straight. Himeji answered with two white blossoms and a single drum. The ground under my feet felt very thin.

Boots crunched behind me. Not many. One pair. The heat settled along my spine like a staring animal.

“You are the one who cuts ground and letters,” a voice said. It was calm and curious, and it did not need to be loud. “You stand anyway.”

I turned.

Taira wore armor that would have made a smith weep. Not for ornament. For fit. Lamina dark as old embers riveted to a western heartplate, cords tied with a monk’s patience. His sword did not glow. The air around it wavered as if noon hung from the edge.

“Akhwera of Jiro,” I said. “Smith.”

“Taira,” he answered. “I clear land.”

“You chose the wrong soil.”

We bowed. We began.

Taira took a small step. His sword rose on a clean line. I answered with a fast draw, a short parry, sending his blade to the side, and a return cut to the wrist. Our blades met, the sparks flew off of them. Heat rolled off his edge and stung my eyes.

I crashed in close. Elbow to ribs. Knee to thigh. A heel hook to take his balance. He gave up the space, sliding back without panic and turned my force aside with a light pivot. My kick cut only air, as I flashed past him.

I scraped two fingers through the grit and snapped a seal.

Kayakuton: Firefly Gravel. Small sparks jumped in the sand. The ground flashed and spat under our feet, explosions rocking the cliffside and below Taira. Taira felt it before it burst. He slipped past and cut by my cheek. My hair singed, as skin and hair alike began to ignite with the heat. My sleeve turned to lace.

Kayakuton: Kono burō | Gunpowder: Blow This

Spoiler

Type: Offensive/Defensive/Supplementary
Rank: C-S A
Range: Short-Long
Chakra: 15/40 30
Damage: 30/80 60
Description: The most rudimentary technique of the element. By focusing Gunpowder chakra throughout their body, into the surrounding ground, the user is able to create tools and constructs made of Gunpowder. These can range from kunais to full length swords and spears for close combat. It may also include different traps such as rising gunpowder from beneath the enemy similarly to the water imprisonment technique. This also includes pillars, walls and other complex constructs. Whenever the user is in physical contact with his creations, he can at will make it change its shape and form; from a sword to a spear or a pillar to an orb etc. (this does not include rank of the jutsu which remains the same no matter what the technique morphs into). The techniques vary in size and power depending on the amount of chakra utilized, where the S-rank version of this technique allows someone to make jutsus as big as the canon ‘Destructive Earth Rising Pillars’. However when these constructs come into contact with any form of fire or an element that can create heat or a flame, these constructs explode immediately. The user can at will cause a weapon in his hand or any construct on the field, which he has made through this jutsu, to immediately explode (costing 5 chakra). The user can make multiple objects but the power is divided between them, for example if the user makes two swords with the A rank use, each sword will be B rank in power.

When these constructs explode, with the explosive power of gunpowder, the release shockwaves around proportional to the size of the technique that was detonated. These shockwaves contain no chakra and are just a result of the detonation, carrying the same rank as the jutsu used. Techniques B rank and below release a shockwave 5m around the gunpowder. A ranks release an shockwave up to 10m around the blast. S ranks and above release a blast 15m around the explosion.Should the user create an A rank construct, when it's detonated but the user or another means, the blast will release a shockwave 10m around, which is a double edge blade, as the user will be struck if within range.

Note:
- S-rank versions can be used 3 times per match. With 2 turns between uses. No gunpowder above A rank in the following turn. A-rank can be used 4 times per battle.
- C-rank can be done with hand gestures. B-ranks require a single hand seal. A-ranks require 2 hand seals. S-ranks require 3 handseals.

He pressed with three plain cuts. The third brought wind and heat together, as it sliced through the air, the ripples of heat evaporated sweat and blood. Futon + Katon: Vacuum Shear, the air in front of his blade sliced the cliff. A bright line opened in the rock. I jammed my scabbard into the cut to break it and rolled away.

I needed height. I stamped and raised a narrow block of stone. Doton: Basalt Pillar. The pillar lifted my back foot. I dropped with a snap cut, edge seeded with tiny hot grains.

(Doton no Jutsu) - Earth Release Technique

Spoiler

Type: Supplementary/Offensive/Defensive
Rank: D
Range: Short-Mid
Chakra: 10
Damage: 20
Descripton: Creates small pillars of earth, small tools, and small shields of earth

Our blades met. Mine boomed. His hummed. The blast shoved us apart. Cracks spread under our boots.

He did not let me breathe. His pommel hammered the same rib the Red Knight had hit. White pain. My next parry was late. My wrists flared.

I threw ash into the sea wind and pulled a low mist around us, quickly covering the entire cliffside in a thick mist that swallowed us both. Suiton: Salt Mist Veil. I threaded dust through the mist and clapped once.

(Kirigakure no Jutsu) - Hiding in Mist Technique

Spoiler

Type: Supplementary
Rank: D
Range: Short-Long
Chakra: 10
Damage: N/A
Description: This displacement technique creates a thick mist to spring forth by lifting up some water from either a pre-existing source or expelled from their mouth, then goes in and out of sight at will from within the pearly-white realm. The mist's thickness is controlled by the amount of chakra kneaded into it. It can't fool the Byakugan, but, due to the mist being created with the user's chakra, any Sharingan and Rinnegan-user will see the mist coloured by their opponent's chakra, which will effectively hide the user from the dōjutsu.

Note: Can be created through releasing from mouth or manipulating a nearby water source.

Flash Fume. White light. Hot air on the skin. I went low and slid for the gap under his heartplate. His wind peeled the flare away. The mist opened in a ring of heat as it emanated from his person igniting everything around us. He stood inside it, scarf lifting in the draft. His eyes were calm.

“You learn quickly,” he said.

“And you charge tuition,” I said, and sank into the cliff.

Senninka: Leech All Creation. Stone took me, I was swallowed whole by the cliff. I glided under him and rose at his back with a full-cut meant to end the talk.

(Hiru Banshō: Bōka no Jutsu) - Leech All Creation: Attack Prevention Technique

Spoiler

Rank: B
Type: Supplementary
Range: Short-Long
Chakra cost: 20 (-5 per turn)
Damage points: N/A
Description: Using this jutsu, the user can merge with another passive object and take on its properties to avoid any damage. While merged, the user is virtually undetected unless the enemy has a doujutsu. Even chakra sensors won't be able to pinpoint the users position. The limitation of the technique is that to use a technique and mold chakra, the user must fully unmerge although doing so doesn't produce any sound and the user can only be sensed once fully unmerged. The user is still aware of the world outside the object and can travel inside it at his normal running speed. The technique was used so far by 3 ninjas (Yamato, Orochimaru and Uchiha Madara) but as an advanced ninjutsu, it can be used by any skilled enough ninja.
Note: the user must be Sannin Rank and above
Note: Orochimaru and Yamato can use it 5 times per battle, Uchiha Madara can use it 3 times, other ninjas can use it twice.
Note: Cannot merge into mediums which aren't tangible

He did not even turn. He tilted his blade a finger-width and let my life skid down the line. Steel screamed. I scored his vambrace and drew a thin red thread on his forearm.

“Good,” he said.

His reply was heat without sound.

Katon: Silent Bloom, a single fire blast flew from his body together with his tempered blade. My edge softened under my palms. I flooded the blade with chakra to hold the temper.

He came again. Three cuts stacked like steps. I broke the first with the flat. I shouldered the second with my scabbard. I had to meet the third on edge or lose my head. The lock hissed. He leaned. I leaned. The cliff complained.

I stamped and braided the rock at his boots. Doton: Stone Braid. Stone wrapped around his ankles. Heat whispered from him and the stone blackened and flaked away.

(Doton: Doryūha) - Earth Release: Earth Flow Wave

Spoiler

Type: Offensive
Rank: B
Range: Mid-Long
Chakra: 20
Damage: 40
Description: After performing the required handseal sequence: Rat → Snake → Tiger the user creates and rides a wave of earth that can branch of to attack from a distance. The user can also use the technique to manipulate the terrain and trap the target by wrapping earth round their legs preventing them from moving.

I tried one last trick. I slapped his chest and lit a coin charge at my own feet. Kayakuton: Flaring Anchor. The blast kicked me backward into clear air and shoved him a half step. His chestplate smoking from the explosion yet unbroken.

Kayakuton: Kono burō | Gunpowder: Blow This

Spoiler

Type: Offensive/Defensive/Supplementary
Rank: C-S A
Range: Short-Long
Chakra: 15/40 30
Damage: 30/80 60
Description: The most rudimentary technique of the element. By focusing Gunpowder chakra throughout their body, into the surrounding ground, the user is able to create tools and constructs made of Gunpowder. These can range from kunais to full length swords and spears for close combat. It may also include different traps such as rising gunpowder from beneath the enemy similarly to the water imprisonment technique. This also includes pillars, walls and other complex constructs. Whenever the user is in physical contact with his creations, he can at will make it change its shape and form; from a sword to a spear or a pillar to an orb etc. (this does not include rank of the jutsu which remains the same no matter what the technique morphs into). The techniques vary in size and power depending on the amount of chakra utilized, where the S-rank version of this technique allows someone to make jutsus as big as the canon ‘Destructive Earth Rising Pillars’. However when these constructs come into contact with any form of fire or an element that can create heat or a flame, these constructs explode immediately. The user can at will cause a weapon in his hand or any construct on the field, which he has made through this jutsu, to immediately explode (costing 5 chakra). The user can make multiple objects but the power is divided between them, for example if the user makes two swords with the A rank use, each sword will be B rank in power.

When these constructs explode, with the explosive power of gunpowder, the release shockwaves around proportional to the size of the technique that was detonated. These shockwaves contain no chakra and are just a result of the detonation, carrying the same rank as the jutsu used. Techniques B rank and below release a shockwave 5m around the gunpowder. A ranks release an shockwave up to 10m around the blast. S ranks and above release a blast 15m around the explosion.Should the user create an A rank construct, when it's detonated but the user or another means, the blast will release a shockwave 10m around, which is a double edge blade, as the user will be struck if within range.

Note:
- S-rank versions can be used 3 times per match. With 2 turns between uses. No gunpowder above A rank in the following turn. A-rank can be used 4 times per battle.
- C-rank can be done with hand gestures. B-ranks require a single hand seal. A-ranks require 2 hand seals. S-ranks require 3 handseals.

He rolled with it. One heel carved a shallow groove. He caught himself and lifted his other foot.

“Stand,” he said, soft. His boot hit my chest. The cliff jumped. Heat flashed white as his blade slid through plate and into me. For a heartbeat I was nailed to the sky. Blood ran hot, then went thin. My fingers forgot how to hold. My feet forgot the ground. The rock below me let go.

Sky. Black rock. White water.

I found one last breath and shaped my fall toward the dark flat water past the break. The sea rose like a wall and hit me hard enough to steal my name. Cold needled every joint. The wound burned, then cooled, then was only a distant throb. The undertow clamped my legs and pulled me toward the river mouth. I did not fight it. Fighting would be a choice for the living.

Above, the cliff shrank to a knife line. A red spark stood at the rim and watched. The message tubes on my belt tapped each other. The slate pressed against my ribs. My hand tried to close over them and closed on nothing. Light thinned. Drums from Himeji turned to slow, underwater knocks. Salt filled my mouth. The world narrowed to bubbles and dark.

Something soft rose under my back, or it was only silt. A gull cried, far away. I counted without sound. One. Two.

 

[Gutsy]

ACT ONE: Rescue Lord Hideyoshi

2: Awakening from the Night​

Story Elements:

• Escape the Fishing Village undetected (B-rank)
• Find / Steal an important document (B-rank) -> Details about a Blacksmith having been imprisoned to keep him from helping the people of the island.

---

The Smokehouse​

I woke to the firelight on low rafters and the thick smell of smoked fish. My chest was burning with every breath I took. A raw stab going straight through my body. I could still feel the heat of the blade, my skin and flesh was burnt and singed. Screams came from outside. It was close by. Then I heard steel meet flesh. Then a baby crying and someone trying to hush it.

A hand pressed down my shoulder.

“Do not get up,” a woman whispered. “You will tear the stitches.”

The lantern light showed her sun-browned skin. Her hair tied back in a loose bun with twine. Salt on her sleeves, and her hands were rough from handling the nets. She kept pressure under my ribs with a wet cloth. White pain climbed into my head. I held still, my hand clenching as I counted three breaths.

“I am Akane,” she said. “I pulled you out of the river weeds. You stopped breathing for a time, but you came back on your own. I call that luck.” She drew in a breath. “Listen, I know who you are, I can tell from the armor you were wearing… The Iron Banner took the harbor. Lord Hideyoshi is alive but he is chained up. They are moving him to the Blood Prison at daybreak. The island is theirs now.”

I looked around and found my sword wrapped in a sailcloth by a stack of nets, and my armor sat in a basket, plates scrubbed clean with salt water and sand. She had done her best.

“How long,” I asked.

“Two nights,” she said. “The tide hid you the first day. They searched the bank on the second. I covered you with eel weeds and told the dogs you were not worth it.”

A horn blew outside. It was accompanied by the sound of boots hitting the lane in a steady beat. Akane flinched and looked at the door.

“They cut throats for noise now,” she said. “You should go.”

“Soon,” I said. “there is someone I need to find.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“I need to find Yoshihara Yoshindo.”

“They took him on the first day, they knew who he was.”

“Then I need to find their field office,” I said. “A transfer list. Routes. If they took him, there will be names and a road. I will not leave without it.”

She held my stare for a moment, then she nodded once. “It is across the fishing village, there is an encampment, you might find what you are looking for there.”

“Thank you,” I said, as I managed to stand and began to wrap myself in my cloth and armor once more.

“Remember you are a ghost now… everyone thinks you are dead.”

I left.

---

The Fishing Village at Night​

I slipped out the back of the smokehouse into a lane of crushed shells. Torches burned in iron hooks along the roads. The lights fell in hard bars across the ground and the hair tasted of tar, brine and fear brimming from every home. A patrol came by in black plating with red cords. The two men behind them were villagers with spears held wrong, their eyes were empty. They were forced into conscription, to fight for someone they did not believe in. A dog strained at a rope nearby and lifted its nose.

“Dogs,” I whispered.

I found a nearby jar of brine and eel weed, using it to splash it over my armor, cloth and boots. The stink made my eyes water, while the dog sneezed, shook its head and lost the scent.

I took the back path behind the net racks. My chest was throbbing in time with my steps. Sweat ran under the bandage and it stung. I moved like rain on old wood. When I reached a slice of light, I waited and counted, then pulled myself through the shadow.

At the wharf the cobbler’s shed was now a command post. Red banner over the door. Three lamps and two guards. The canvas was pulled tight so as to not let in any light. I could hear a pen scratching inside.

Two voices drifted from the door, easy and loud.

“Red banner looks fine on a fish shed,” the first guard said. “Smells worse than the boats though.”

“Better than the marsh,” the second guard said. “Dog still sneezed for an hour. Eel weed in my nose. Worth it. We pulled a catch today.”

“You mean the old hammer man.”

“Aye. Shigeo’s father. Would not bow. Stood there with his back all straight like a mast. Sir Havelin tapped his knees with the spear butt and down he went.”

The first guard laughed. “Did he cry.”

“No. Just spat and said his fire was for Jiro, not us. Brave words. He learned to walk fast when the chain went on.”

“Where to.”

“North road at dawn. Prison spur. Orders say Blood Prison wants the hard cases first.”

“The blacksmith is a hard case.”

“Hard hands. Hard head. Captain signed the paper himself. See the seal on the tube rack. Three hammers in a circle. Quartermaster near hugged it.”

“Ha. Old men with tools think they are iron. He will be soft in a week. They always are.”

“Maybe. They say the Blazing Blade wants smiths alive. Needs tutors, not martyrs. We take their words before we take their shrines.”

“Tutors. Hah. I will tutor their rice pot. Give me another bowl.”

A clay bowl scraped. Someone slurped.

“You see the boy,” the second asked. “Shigeo. Ran after them until the strap caught him. They made him pick up his father’s tongs from the street. Cruel, but clean work. No knives.”

“Good lesson. Bow your head and keep your hands. Besides, Sir Havelin escorts the chain himself. No one is foolish enough to try the road.”

“Not tonight. The sweep starts after this watch. Dogs on the bank. Nets on the alleys.”

“Then drink. At dawn we march the old man and I want my feet warm.”

Chairs creaked. A pen scratched inside the canvas.

“Write it, scribe,” the first said, loud enough to show off. “One smith. One chain. One road north.”

The second chuckled. “And one island that learns new words.”

---

Getting Inside​

I stood with my back against a net rack and closed my eyes to listen. Two guards at the door. One was bored and one seemed extra careful this night. A patrol every few minutes. Inside, I could hear three heartbeats, one steady and slow, one snoring and one tapping in time with the pen.

I pulled out a small ash gourd at my belt and let my chakra flow into it as I then rolled it across the yard to the whale oil barrel.

“Kayakuton: Ember Seed.” I whispered as the gourd popped, causing the whale oil to erupt with a flare, steam and flames rose from the barrel. Both guards turned immediately, the careful one leaned. That was all I needed.

I pushed the canvas flat with my palm so it did not rustle. I slipped inside.

Kayakuton: Kono burō | Gunpowder: Blow This

Spoiler

Type: Offensive/Defensive/Supplementary
Rank: C-S C
Range: Short-Long
Chakra: 15/40 15
Damage: 30/80 30
Description: The most rudimentary technique of the element. By focusing Gunpowder chakra throughout their body, into the surrounding ground, the user is able to create tools and constructs made of Gunpowder. These can range from kunais to full length swords and spears for close combat. It may also include different traps such as rising gunpowder from beneath the enemy similarly to the water imprisonment technique. This also includes pillars, walls and other complex constructs. Whenever the user is in physical contact with his creations, he can at will make it change its shape and form; from a sword to a spear or a pillar to an orb etc. (this does not include rank of the jutsu which remains the same no matter what the technique morphs into). The techniques vary in size and power depending on the amount of chakra utilized, where the S-rank version of this technique allows someone to make jutsus as big as the canon ‘Destructive Earth Rising Pillars’. However when these constructs come into contact with any form of fire or an element that can create heat or a flame, these constructs explode immediately. The user can at will cause a weapon in his hand or any construct on the field, which he has made through this jutsu, to immediately explode (costing 5 chakra). The user can make multiple objects but the power is divided between them, for example if the user makes two swords with the A rank use, each sword will be B rank in power.

When these constructs explode, with the explosive power of gunpowder, the release shockwaves around proportional to the size of the technique that was detonated. These shockwaves contain no chakra and are just a result of the detonation, carrying the same rank as the jutsu used. Techniques B rank and below release a shockwave 5m around the gunpowder. A ranks release an shockwave up to 10m around the blast. S ranks and above release a blast 15m around the explosion.Should the user create an A rank construct, when it's detonated but the user or another means, the blast will release a shockwave 10m around, which is a double edge blade, as the user will be struck if within range.

Note:
- S-rank versions can be used 3 times per match. With 2 turns between uses. No gunpowder above A rank in the following turn. A-rank can be used 4 times per battle.
- C-rank can be done with hand gestures. B-ranks require a single hand seal. A-ranks require 2 hand seals. S-ranks require 3 handseals.

Ink. Oil. Wet leather. A soldier asleep on a stool, his head back and mouth open. An officer in a short cape, lips moving as he read numbrs. A scribe bent over a ledger with the three hammerhead stamp. The lock glowed with marks. I did not touch it. Besides it sat the copy slate. Therack of sealed tubes hung on the wall.

I slid left, my chest scraped my plate. Pain flashed behind my eyes, as I gritted my teeth. Do not cough, do not bleed.

The slate showed transfer lines. I read it fast.

Transfer: Master Kaji Saburou. Blacksmith. Himeji lower ward. Marked hostile. Destination: Blood Prison. Escort: Captain Sir Havelin. Departure: third bell after dawn. Route: river road to central causeway, then prison spur.

I slid the slate under my sash. I pulled a spare form from the pile and wrote the same route in ugly left-handed script. I took two tubes with the route seal and slid them into my belt.

The officer sniffed and turned a page.

The sleeping man snorted and reached for a cup that was not there. His hand slapped the table. The ink jar tipped. The scribe cursed and grabbed the jar. The officer looked up.

I was already moving. I pressed two knuckles under the sleeping man’s ear. He sagged. The scribe looked at me and froze. He was young. He had ink on his face. My face was half covered by my cloak, I put two fingers to my lips and shook my head once. Please. He let the pen drip on his sleeve instead of the floor.

“Trouble at the barrel,” the guard outside called. “Hoop popped.”

“Then fix it,” the officer said, and went back to his numbers.

I left.

Akane let the canvas fall. We walked away at an even pace like we belonged there.

---

Getting out unseen​

At the end of the wharf two patrols met nose to nose. One from the salt sheds, smelling of brine and rope grease. One from the boats, wet boots dripping river muck. I walked straight into their seam, the thin crack between territories.

I caught a barrel half full, brine sloshing inside, and tipped it on its rim. Dockhand roll. Chin down. Back bent. Face slack with tired hours. The rim rattled against the boards, my palms already slick. The patrols looked, glanced past. Just another night body moving weight.

A sergeant stepped out of the canvas, squinting through smoke from a nearby brazier. My grip slipped a thumb’s width. The barrel bumped the plank. The sound cracked in the air sharper than it should have.

“Mind the hoops,” I snapped, voice low and rough, like a dockhand pissed at delay. “You want your water spilled on the boards again?”

He spat, wiped his mouth with a glove, waved me on. His men followed his eyes elsewhere.

I rolled the barrel into the eel rack alley, damp nets brushing my arms. The main street shook with boots. Leather and steel and the scrape of spear tips on stone. A woman screamed, sharp and short, then smothered herself. Dogs barked downriver, long and hungry. A horn blew twice — flat and heavy. A sweep line forming on the bank.

I left the barrel by a stack of traps, slid into the reeds. Black water breathed at my knees, cold enough to numb the skin. Lantern light crawled over the surface in shaky patches.

The wound under my plate throbbed hot and wet. I bit my thumb, tasted iron, pressed blood to my palm. Fingers signed slow, each stroke dragging against stiff joints. My hand slapped wet wood.

Kuchiyose: Reedback Toad.

(Gamagakure no Jutsu) - Hiding in a Toad technique

Spoiler

Type: Supplementary
Rank: C
Range: Short
Chakra: 15
Damage: N/A
Description: The user summons a special diving toad (moguri gama) from mount Myōboku and then the user will hide in its stomache. The frog is capable of diving very deep in fresh water. The frog's stomach has a special barrier which obstructs chakra, protecting the user from sensory-type ninja.

Note: Must know Toad summoning contract.

The river bulged. A moss-green back broke the water, reeds and algae strings dripping off like hair. A stump with eyes, blinking heavy. It smelled of eel weed and stagnant mud. The mouth opened, wide and wet.

I climbed in.

Warm air closed over me. Wet walls pressed on my shoulders. Breath rolled slow and swamp-thick. Slime sealed my skin, clung to cloth, soaked into the wound. The stink of rot and marsh painted me. Dogs would gag on it.

The toad sank. Only eyes above, glassy in the lantern wash. Spears stabbed the reeds. One scraped its back — the tremor carried down its flesh, into my teeth. My jaw ached. A thin thread of blood drifted past my cheek, caught in slime. The toad did not twitch. I locked my lungs.

A dog shoved into the grass, snout dragging air. I heard the wet pull in its nostrils. It sneezed, whining sharp, handler cursing as he hauled it back.

Horn again. Closer now. Sweep line shifting. The toad gave itself to the current, drifting with a slow kick now and then, sure as a ferryman who knows the rocks by memory. We slid under a skiff. A guard poured broth into a bowl. Steam hit the river, fish fat and ginger, and covered our scent for a single breath.

We rode the dark.

A lantern froze on us. The toad stilled. Only its throat worked, slow as sleep. My blood hammered, loud in my ears. The stitch pulled and tore. I kept my jaw shut, let the pain sit like a stone.

The toad found a back channel thick with reeds, pushed through, and rose on the far bank. Its mouth opened, breath washing over me like damp cloth.

I slid out into wet grass, knees shaking. Cold air bit through my teeth. I tore a strip from my sleeve, worked it under the plate. Heat from the wound burned my fingers slick. Bound it tight with cloth and kelp rope from my belt until my eyes watered.

I checked the tubes. The copy. Still there. Sailcloth wrapped, tied flat against ribs.

“Stand,” I told myself.

I stood.

The toad lowered its head. I pressed a hand to its brow, fingers sinking in damp skin. “Thank you.” It blinked once, slow, then slipped under without a ripple.

I kept to the hill’s shadow. Behind me the village burned in slow patches. Sparks drifted like fireflies. A bell tolled twice, cracked, and fell silent. Fog climbed the gullies, curling like breath. Dogs barked again, distant now, faint against the river.

At the shrine I put my back to the stone, rough against my wound, and took five slow breaths. Names lined in my head: Hideyoshi in chains. Sir Havelin’s shield. Taira’s eyes on the cliff. Master Kaji Saburou carved in slate. The Blood Prison at dawn.

I set my feet toward the ridge and the cedar with the crossed root. If I fell, scouts would find what I carried. If I did not, I’d need it soon.

The night did not care. I walked anyway.

 

[Gutsy]

New Story.

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Story Elements: Overall A-rank
Confronting Akhwera’s Past (B-rank)
Survive Fighting an opponent stronger than you (S-rank).

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The footsteps of a man returning from a journey of reflection and hardship crunch through the freshly fallen snow on the hills of Jiro. The drag marks trailing behind him show exhaustion and loneliness as his only companions. Once, these lands had been fertile and alive, but now the fields had turned into hills covered in frost, and every hill he crossed only revealed another ahead.

It had taken Akhwera several days to cross the snow-covered island until he finally reached the last ridge. From there, he saw a small farmstead resting beside a hot stream cutting through the Aokiba Plains. His eyes were heavy, black lines marking the sleepless nights beneath them. He stood there for a while, staring blankly at the wooden house and the broken fences leaning under the weight of years and snow.

As he walked down toward the house, he passed an old, frost-covered sign barely standing upright, its letters worn but still readable: Donguri Garden. His hand brushed against the frozen surface, and then along the fence as he followed the cobblestone path leading home.

No one was home. No one had been home for the last ten years. The air inside was still and dry, untouched by warmth. The home had been abandoned long ago, not by choice, but by violence. Bloodstains had long dried into the floorboards, and marks across the walls showed where something terrible had once happened. Akhwera walked through the house slowly. In the living room, the table and chairs were overturned and broken, frozen in place as if the chaos had never ended.

He moved further through the house until he reached the master bedroom. The bedsheets were still stained red, frozen stiff after years of winter air. He stood in silence for a moment, his hand resting on the wooden doorframe, before stepping through the last doorway. The door was hanging off one hinge, creaking slightly in the cold. It was a child’s room. A small bunk bed stood by the wall, and toys lay scattered across the floor. A broken kite rested in the corner; its colours faded to pale grey.

Akhwera stepped into the room. His hand slid across the frame of the bed before he knelt and picked up a small wooden toy soldier lying near the window. The moment his fingers touched it, a faint sound echoed through the air. It was his sister’s laughter.

The sound grew distant and hollow, carried by the wind as a low hum filled his ears. The world around him began to distort, the air bending like ripples on water. His knees gave out as he fell back onto the bed, his vision twisting as everything around him melted into light and shadow. The cold house disappeared, and suddenly he stood beneath sunlight and snow, outside the same home as it once was, alive, warm, and untouched by tragedy.

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The world around him pulsed with warmth that felt wrong. The snow had melted away revealing soft earth, and the familiar scent of firewood drifted from the small chimney above his home. Akhwera stood motionless in the doorway, his breath unsteadies, his eyes flickering around the hallway, the toy soldier still held tightly within his hand. Inside, laughter carried through the rooms, light and innocent, brushing against his ears like a distant memory that refuses to fade away.

Akhwera walked into the living room, his parents were sitting together by the table, faces calm, the colour returned to their cheeks as if time had never taken them. His mother looked up and smiled, that same tired, kind smile he had almost forgotten. His eyes began to water as a single line of tears began to form down his cheek. His father’s hand was steady as he poured tea into wooden cups. His sister, Tsutako, ran past him, chasing a kite that somehow had colour again. For a moment, Akhwera almost believed it, that he had come home, and that none of it had happened.

But the warmth began to change. The laughter echoed longer than it should have, twisting until it no longer sounded human, until it sounded like the guttural screams of drowning people. The air thickened, heavy and wrong. His mother’s hand trembled, the cup falling and shattering into water than ran black across the floor. His father’s face blurred, melting into a shadowy figure. Tsutako stood in the centre of the room, her smile gone, eyes wide with fear as she reached for him. Akhwera took a step toward her, opening his arms ready to embrace her, yet before he could reach her the world around him twisted as he got pulled and suddenly stood before the bedroom of his parents.

The sickness returned, not as an illness of the body, but a dark mist that spread across the room like ink through water. The walls darkened, the sound of the fire slowly died, and light bled out of the world. Figures of shadow began to form at the corners of the house, forming from the mist, tall, unshaped, the shadows extending far beyond the reach of normal darkness, their elongated forms reaching out to grab them all. Their hands reaching for his sister.

Akhwera moved without a second thought. His sword was already unsheathed. He was cutting through the air as steam and water erupted from each strike. The shadows fell apart, but for every strike, more shadows erupted, twisting and reforming with every strike. He felt the same helplessness as that night, the same pain, the same weight. As he pivoted and stared into the darkness and the chaos, Tsutako’s voice broke through the chaos, “Run, Akhwera!”, and it echoed inside his skull.

But he did not run this time.

He shouted, slashing through the haze with a surge of chakra wave flowing from his blade, and the dream shattered like glass. The wall in front of him broke away, revealing the endless white of the frozen plains. The air turned sharp and cold, as the wind erupted through the open hole, his breath visible in front of him for a moment, there was silence.

Then he saw it.

A figure stood a short distance away in the snow, a man, twice his height, wielding a great sword and wearing a demon mask. Akhwera couldn’t make out who it was, but through the hollow eye sockets, he saw only black emptiness staring back. From a nearby tree, a small chime hung, its soft whistle carried by the wind. As it turned, the faint glow of a red sealing mark pulsed across its surface. The figure stepped forward, and the snow flared upward around its feet as a vision forced itself into Akhwera’s mind, his sister running past him into the courtyard, her sword clutched tight as she charged headlong toward the demon. It happened in an instant. Her blade struck, and then she fell, her body collapsing as her head rolled across the snow, staining it crimson. When Akhwera’s eyes returned to the present, the creature before him was not the same as the one from that day, yet the haze around it carried the same scent, the same weight of dread that had once stolen everything from him.

Akhwera understood before it moved. This was no spirit, no illusion. It was one of the henchmen of the Demon who poisoned his family and killed his sister in cold blood, simply because his father had refused to submit to the Demon’s banners and had refused to forge the weapon that he so desired. In that moment feelings arose, rage, guilt, fear, all of it mingling as his grip on his sword tightened and you could see the whites around his knuckles.

When they clashed, the sound tore through the snow-covered courtyard, their blades slamming into each other, as Akhwera’s sword was forced into the dirt. Steam a water exploded around them, snow vaporized by a single strike. As they were locked in place, he could hear his sister’s voice, his mentor’s teachings, and faces flowing through his mind of those he failed to save.

The battle and each slash spilled across the frozen courtyard, breaking through the crumbling walls, Akhwera circling the demonic man through a storm of snow and steel. There was no anger in his eyes now, only the sense of vengeance mingled with a tinge of fear.

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The battle spilled across the frozen courtyard, ice cracking beneath their feet, snow flying erratically with each swing and clash. Akhwera circled the masked figure, his boots scraping against the frozen cobblestone, as ragged clouds of breath emanated from his mouth. Steam drifted from the snow where his blade had dragged and struck, curling in the air like restless ghosts drifting in the wind.

“come,” the figure hissed, voice hollow behind the mask. “Show me the strength you deny yourself.”

Akhwera tightened his grip on his katana, sliding his feet sideways into his Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash stance, as his body glided across the surface in one smooth motion, his blade cutting through the snow in a wide arc as he leapt into the air. Ice shards and steam exploded upon his rise, and as he dropped down onto the demon his blade drilled down into the figure’s cloak, but the shadowed man barely flinched, stepping aside with what seemed like impossible speed. A dark mist snaked from the snow beneath him, wrapping around his ankles, as he drifted to the side, letting Akhwera’s blade slide free as if it had never struck him, and while the mist coiled up burning cold around Akhwera’s muscles.

( Rakkasui ) - Falling Water

Spoiler

Type: Offensive
Rank: C
Range: Short
Chakra cost: N/A
Damage points: 30
Description: The user will drop down upon the opponent from mid air pointing their sword downwards and drilling it down into the opponent.

“Not enough!” the figure’s voice echoed across the courtyard, mockingly, as its great sword swung in a horizontal arc. Akhwera instinctively slid beneath the slash, kicking up a spray of snow that hissed against the heated great sword of his opponent.

As he slid past the demonic man, his eyes flicked to the courtyard walls, crumbling and warped, and he immediately pivoted into Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance, using the wall to his side to leap off, spinning through the air, his blade glowing blue as it slices through tendrils of dark mist like silver threads. Akhwera moving through the air in a blue haze, slicing through tendrils as he aims for the mask. Yet for every tendril he destroyed, two more took its place, twisting and reforming protecting the demon’s mask. Just as his blade graced the demon’s mask, he felt it, several tendrils wrapping around his legs and swinging him around, throwing him directly into and through a crumbling wall. “How could he be so careless”. Akhwera thought to himself as he flew through the wall, crashing into several chairs and landing on the cold frost covered floor. As he landed, memories flooded his mind: his sister running, smiling, falling. He swallowed hard, as he stood up assisted by his katana, “I will not fail them again!”.

(Kenjutsu: Hayai Nokogiri) – Sword Arts: Graceful Saw

Spoiler

Type: Offensive/Defensive
Rank: S
Range: Short-Mid
Chakra cost: 40
Damage points: 80
Description: The user will first channel their chakra into their sword, increasing the cutting potency of the blade, causing it to glow blue. The user will then leap towards the opponent extending the blade while spinning, causing their body to take a saw-type shape. This technique is said to even cut through solid earth of equal rank and below and cut through the flesh wth ease. When spinning, the user is able to travel up to 10 mters away.

Note: Can only be used twice

Note: Courtesy of Teno

The figured advanced, its mask tilted, black mist curling around its sword. “You’ve carried their deaths too long. Let me show you the weight of what you deny.” It swung downward, and Akhwera felt the force of the strike shattering the ice and the courtyard, the ice and ground beneath his boots giving way to a hollowed-out ground beneath. He leapt backward, slashing into the air with Water Breathing, Fifth Form: Blessed Rain After the Drought, the arc of the strike sending several waves of water surging through the air, slashing through multiple tendrils as it pushed the demon back. Yet its gaseous form lingered as it tilted its head, staring at Akhwera as the remaining slashes went into its form being absorbed effortlessly, as it then reformed like smoke in the wind. Akhwera landed, sliding across the cold surface, his thoughts racing through his mind, what devilry was this, how could this entity so effortlessly avoid any harm, absorb all of his attacks, and injure him so, without breaking a sweat and even landing a sneak attack on him without him noticing.

(Suiton: Mizunami Kiri) - Water Release: Water Wave Strike

Spoiler

Type: Attack/Defense
Rank: B
Range: Short-Mid
Chakra: 20
Damage: 40
Description: Using a water source as a basis, the user slashes his sword at it, releasing several large, crescent chakra waves. The chakra waves then break through the water source, and take on the properties of water waves, growing in size the farther the opponent is from the user. The waves however travel in a linear motion, aren't able to break through very dense water, and can't be controlled once breaking through the water source.
Note: Requires a water source
Note: Must be taught by Deviation
Note: Can only be used on existing water source.
Note: The water that is sent at the opponent itself has no rank, as there is no chakra infused directly into the water.

Akhwera gritted his teeth, feeling his jaw tense up. “Then I’ll match your strength with what I have left.” He spun into Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust, steapping into a fluid assault as he swung his sword releasing a large amount of water and forcing the ice to melt creating a torrent of water swirling around him as he flashed forward through the misty shadows, cutting and tearing through it. Sparks of water vapor colliding with the black miasma, sending arcs of frost, water and steam into the air. The courtyard became a storm of water and white snow as it exploded outwards in crescent swings, tearing through everything in its path. As everything subsided, Akhwera was standing on the opposite end of the courtyard blade still extended as the water began to drop as pebbles from above.

(Suiton: Suishū Gorugon) - Water Release: Powerful Blasting Rain Trench

Spoiler

Type: Offensive/Defensive
Rank: S
Range: Short-Long
Chakra: 40 (+10 to sustain)
Damage: 80
Description: After performing the Dragon → Tiger handseals, this technique will summon a large amount of water near the user that will then be used to strike at the opponent in several versatile ways. Shizuku has been known to transform it into a dragon with a gaping mouth to attack though the user can shape it in any way he needs for his intended purpose. The water used will be stationary till it is sent offensively toward the opponent and as long as the user fuels it and the technique isn't fully negated, the Tiger handseal can be sustained and the water manipulated and used. The technique can also be used from nearby water sources, including low rank water techniques, for the same effect. Due to the immense control needed, the technique is considered a highly advanced use of water release, requiring the user to possess a primary water specialty to use.
Note: Can only be used by Water Primary Specialists.

As Akhwera stood in the silence, letting the rain drop, he heard the great sword slamming into the cobblestone as it began to grind against it. He turned his gaze slowly, as he saw dark steam coalescing along the blades’ edge, forming into jagged spears erupting from within it. “You are weak. You cannot protect yourself, and you could not even protect them!” Akhwera’s breath hitched in his throat as he saw the demonic energy wrapping around the man, his strongest attack did not even leave a mark on him.

Akhwera felt the chill gnawing at his bones, as the cold began to envelop him, the weight of his failures pressing down on him. He rolled beneath another swing of the great sword, the dark spikes shooting out piercing the walls behind him. Each strike of the great sword carved a path through a wall, collapsed part of the building and even evaporated the frost along the ground.

Steam hissed as Akhwera’s blade began to heat up from the ambient heat that flowed from the demonic man in front of him, snow exploding like fireworks into droplets evaporating into steam. Akhwera’s vision began to blur, as his mind swam with memories of Tsutako reaching for him, laughing, falling into the snow. Memories of her voice, memories of her body collapsing in the courtyard. He could hear her voice, distant and raw, “Run!”. But he did not move, not this time. Not because he was not afraid, but because he did not want to abandon his family, again.

The masked figure’s shadow twisted upward, forming a whip of what seemed like black tar, with multiple tips. As the demonic figure lashed out, Akhwera dashed forward, weaving under the first lash, parrying the second, however the force of the whip and its multiple tendrils slammed him backwards, slashing across his chest as he was slammed against the skeletal tree. Snow clinging to his hair, blood mixing with frost across his cheek and chest. The wind carried the faint whistle of the chime above, the red seal glowing in the dim light.

“You don’t deserve to live,” the demonic man hissed, leaning closer. Akhwera gritted his teth, pain searing through his chest, but he whispered, voice low, “I Will… Survive…”. He said as he got on his feet, his legs shaking beneath him, his vision blurred as he looked up at the man in front of him.

Akhwera took a shake step forward, raising his blade readying himself for another strike, yet before his first step landing on the frost covered stone, he felt his body being slammed backwards, as his back struck the tree, pushing the air from his lungs. Pain shot through his body, as he looked down, he saw the great sword drilling through his right shoulder, blood dripping from it, pinned to the tree. Every fiber in his body screams in pain and in fear, telling him to get away. As his head rose, his face met the demon mask and the eyes deep and dark like the void staring directly at him. From here, he could see the white skin beneath the mask, he could smell the stench off him.

“Did you really think you had what it took to save them… to save yourself… you are weak,” the demonic man proclaimed as he leaned in close. Akhwera looked down, blood dripped into the snow. He stood, trembling, sword still barely grasped in his hand. Pain radiating through his limbs, but his fingers brushed the handle of the blade. “I still remember the day I slaughtered your family, the screams, the blood…oh… the pleasure, the joy it gave me to tear your fathers head off… and I am going to enjoy doing it to you too.”

Akhwera hearing the taunting voice of the demon, feeling the grin beneath the mask, he felt a surge of energy rising from within him. He felt angry, no, he felt furious. His head rose sharply to meet the gaze of the demon, “I’m going to find you and kill you!” he said with a sharp tone, only to be met by the demon’s laughter.

The demon’s laughter was short lived, as Akhwera reached up touching the wind chime hanging above him, releasing his chakra through the sealing tag. Not only did the demons’ laughter disappear, but it also recoiled as the seal and the barrier shattered, destroying the demon’s domain over the farm stead. As it recoiled it collapsed backwards, its dark mist tendrils evaporating, its form rolling across the ground in agony.

(Kekkai Kireme no Jutsu) – Barrier Shatter

Spoiler

Rank: B - S
Type: Supplementary
Range: Short - Mid
Chakra: 20 - 40
Damage: N/A
Description: The user will insert their chakra into a active barrir to then interfere with the source and cancel the barrier shattering its shell.

Note: Must make direct contact. Regular Fuuinjusu users can dispel Barrier Techniques B-rank and below.

Uzumaki bios can dispel up to A-rank. Advanced Sealing Specialists can dispel up to S rank Barriers.

As Akhwera watched the demon recoil, its body twisting in agony, he reached for the great sword impaled through his shoulder and the tree behind him. His breath caught as he pulled it free, the sound of tearing flesh drowned beneath the rush of wind. Blood poured down his arm, dark against the snow, pooling beneath his boots before he let the weapon fall with a heavy thud. Steam rose where it struck the frozen earth. He steadied himself on the bark, his vision swimming, the world spinning between blinding white and shadowed red.

The demon’s form was writhing, its mask cracked, black smoke pouring from the fractures. Even so, he could feel it, that overwhelming pressure still clawing at the air, the hatred that refused to die. He knew then he couldn’t win, not in his state, not against something like that. The fight was over. Survival was all that was left.

He turned, breath ragged, and bolted through the courtyard. Snow shattered under each step as he leapt through the collapsed wall. Behind him, he heard the demon’s scream, raw, guttural, followed by the heavy crash of falling timber as it gave chase. The ground trembled with its rage. Shards of ice cut against his face as he ran, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

The river glimmered ahead, a ribbon of black water beneath the moonlight. His lungs burned, his vision blurred, yet he pushed forward, each stride heavier than the last. He jumped, body twisting through the air. For a heartbeat, everything slowed, the sound of rushing water, the sting of cold wind against his wounds, and then he saw it.

The demon was right behind him, its body a storm of mist and shadow, tendrils flaring outward like jagged blades. It reached for him midair, claws outstretched, eyes burning through the hollow mask. Then, as it crossed the threshold of the farmstead, its form convulsed. The chime’s broken seal pulsed one last time from the courtyard, and the creature screamed, a sound that split the night, before its body tore apart into ash and smoke, scattering in the wind. The mask shattered midair, fragments spinning past him like falling petals before dissolving into the snow.

Akhwera hit the river with a crash. The water’s chill devoured him whole, dragging the air from his lungs. He sank, the world above twisting into blurs of white and gray. His fingers went numb, the weight of his sword still clutched tight in his hand. As the current pulled him downstream, the pain dulled into silence, his vision fading until all that remained was the sound of the river, and the faint echo of a chime that no longer rang.

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The cold bit through him long before he opened his eyes. The taste of salt and iron clung to his tongue, the sound of waves dragging against the shore filling his ears. When he finally stirred, his body felt heavier than stone, his arm half-buried in snow, the other pressed weakly against his chest. The tide had carried him to land, leaving him sprawled on the frozen sand where the sea met the snow.

Above him stretched a pale, washed-out sky, clouds drifting slowly across it like ghosts. He blinked, trying to remember where he was, the pain in his shoulder answering for him. Blood had frozen in streaks along his sleeve, dark lines cutting through the white. Each breath came shallow, clouding in the air before fading away.

He turned his head, the motion sluggish, and through the thin curtain of snowfall, he saw the faint outline of rooftops in the distance. Komatsu. The eastern settlement of Jiro. Smoke rose from its chimneys, blending with the winter mist that rolled in from the sea. The faint clang of hammers echoed somewhere far off, carried by the wind.

For a long moment, he just lay there, staring up at the sky. His lips parted, barely moving, and a single name slipped through the cold air. “Tsutako…”

A crow called somewhere beyond the dunes, its voice sharp against the stillness.

Akhwera’s hand clenched, his fingers stiff and shaking as he pushed himself up from the snow. His body trembled, every movement a battle. He staggered once, caught his balance, and turned his eyes toward the faint glow of Komatsu. The river ran beside him, half-frozen, guiding his path like a silver thread.

He took a breath, the cold stinging his lungs, and began to walk.