Battle of Shinobi [Closed/Akira]

[Nagi]

Spoiler:

Zuka stood on the head of a legend. A legend known as the bane of the shinobi world once upon a time. In honesty he had many similarities with the famed Madara Uchiha. Even if those similarities were sprouted from a very key difference in their lineage. Madara may have been a pure blood of the Uchiha line but Zuka on the other-hand was the shamed bastard of the Hyuuga clan, son of a branch member no-less. His existence spawned hatred from his Hyuuga family, only able to find a semi-peaceful upbringing by immigrating with his mother into the Village Hidden in the Sand. His father had the idea to go with them but ended up paying his life as punishment for leaving his duties as a branch member.

Zuka's reflection of the past in this moment was only to be viewed as complacent, a blank slate of white was the only thing yielded in his Byakugan eyes. An ability inherited against odds, and he was punished for his stroke of lucky in lineage with nearly every encounter he had with the Hidden Leaf even from his young shinobi life. Even so he had found his own ways to hone the legendary abilities of his birthright, and in the process developed a headcount of Hyuugas that have drawn their last breath by his hand. A child molded from hatred, even with his mother's attempts to properly nurture him. He was betrayed by his clan and the Hidden Leaf for allowing him to do so. And he stood, un-moving, silently on the head of a legend that he admittedly admired.

His gaze was held forward to see thee one perched on the other head. There was a man who, like Zuka, had his own past and his own reasons for standing there. For Zuka it was simple; he had ggotten so used to hatred, so immersed in a lust for revenge that he slowly came to the notion that all would need to fall eventually, all who he would call shinobi were destined to dying on the field of battle. He would believe that he was required a due service, even apart from his own goals. It was part of his duty to give those ninja he comes across; a death worthy of a shinobi.

Zuka's attire was basic in design but unique to his style. His coat that draped over him was dual-layered with a yellow trim. The outer layer and his shinobi pants were dark grey whereas his inner layer of his cloak was a stark white. He had a long zipper to do it up, buttoning with the outer layer around the base of the collar. He wore white leggins under his shinobi pants and his own combat sandals. Zaku's dark gray headband bore the Sunagakure symbol, as his Village of alliegance and held up his comfortable array of forest-green hair. Under his coat he had a skin-tight white muscle shirt and a small pouch strapped to each of his thighs. The pouches each held two shuriken and three kunai. The twenty-one year old stood at six feet and his athletic build gave him a respectable weight of one-hundred-eighty pounds.

The sound of the waterfall between the mountainous statues kept its natural hum and crash. The distance between him and his opponent would be a a good twenty-five meters since they each would stand on the head of a respective legend. Soon, quite soon, this calm stare-down would become another clash of ninja, tainting the scene with blood, adding another link to the long chain of violence that was the life of true shinobi.

[AkiraFrost]

Damien sighed his eyes downcast as he wondered how exactly he'd gotten himself into this once again. It truly was beginning to grow tiresome, having to fight shinobi after shinobi, their blood littering the ground like a million red rubies. Each and every person that stood in his way was crushed, reduced to nothing more than a faint memory. So why, why did they keep coming, why wouldn't they just stop and leave, why did there have to be more blood shed. He hated contributing to the cycle of destruction, but he had no other choice, he couldn't do anything else in this world. He was a shinobi nothing could change that no matter how much he may want to, all he could do was continue to walk on this blood soaked ground and hope for a better tomorrow. That tomorrow did not exist with his era however, they were already lost, the shinobi world had completely encased their hearts.

The male's chest heaved with effort as he questioned his existance, did he truly belong to this world? If he was never born how many lives would be saved, how many people had he killed so far. The answer did not come to him, nor did he ever expect it to yet he asked himself time and time again. His eyes opened to stare blankly at his hand, this hand had snuffed out so many flames, of life. He was a monster it was obvious now, killing himself would be the best option for the future. Yes his resolve would not be shaken, this would undoubtably be his last fight as a shinobi. Ha ironic that his life would end in the same place as the great fight between Madara, and the First Hokage. This world needs to be change.

"Shut the fuck up you worthless piece of crap and let me take over." The shinobi's hand began to shake violently as his eyes bulged the voice itself coming from deep within his mind. No it couldn't possibly be him he'd already feed the bloodlust why was this guy going to interfere. Unable to deal with the constant killing Damien had cut himself off from the emotion, allowing another being within him to grow. This was bloodlust, a special characteristic of those from the Fuktago no Akuma (Twin Demon) clan. Members of the clan felt there emotions too strongly so a second being was often formed deep within the subconscious that Forced itself out at such times. A being who loved bloodlust and killing, a being to closest to what one would call pure evil. Looks as if Takisu woould be fighting this battle instead of Damien, now this will be quite something to see.

With the taking over of Damien the male's entire dispoistion shifted gears as a large animalistic smile spread across his face. His mouth opened releasing a frightening laugh each eye bulged in excitement, the bloodlust and killing intent radiating from the male could make a grown man fall to his knees. "Kishishishi I'm going to paint this statue with your blood kishishishi!" The male's words pierced the sounded air lingering for a moment to allow the other ninja to process them. This was no ordinary man this was someone who purely enjoyed chaos and mayhem.

Takisu was wearing a long black robe with sleeves that extended past the hands for maybe an inch or two. Barely the tips of his fingers could be seen, beneath the long robe he wore tight fitting pants that allowed maximum movement. The pants themselves were dark black mimicing the robe in almost every detail, actually most everything the guy was wearing was black. His face was young maybe only sixteen and his head sported the headband of the old the waterfall village. His hair was bright red almost the color of freshly spilled blood, it was said that the male had killed so many people their blood had dyed his hair. Underneath the robe on his right thigh were two pouches, each containing three kunai and 5 shuriken, along with wire, two smoke bombs, two exploding tags, and a single scroll. Even as he starred at the male that would be his opponent Takisu pulled out a single kunai his tongue licking the edge of the blade as he spoke once more.

"Kishishishi what are you waiting for let's create art."

[Nagi]

The man across the way had an air about him. In ways it was like his emotions were seeping through, filling the atmosphere with an invisible miasma. At first these feelings were tainted with sorrow but at one point the whole mood shifted. Even without his Byakugan active Zuka could sense things that were happening. The harbored lust and ecstatic wish for bloodshed. He did not experience fear however, this was not something to be phased about. Zuka himself had a long list, plenty of red on his own ledger. His skills had granted him a name that so many feared; "The Hyuuga Bastard". As degrading as the name might sound or seem Zuka had taken quite a liking to it. Very blunt and it let others know that their lifespan would be winding down to minutes just with him being near them.

"Kishishishi I'm going to paint this statue with your blood kishishishi!" His opponent spoke, his laugh reminded Zuka of a mindless murderer, as if it was himself with a good deal more spunk, cruelty, and stupidity. A slight wind tugged at the ends of his hair and sleeves and he took half a step forward. Still the blank slate was his only answer to the mindless thing on the other side. "Kishishishi what are you waiting for let's create art." A thing to agree with; it was time for the battle to begin. A leap and Zuka let gravity pull him down, arms raised and the bottom of his coat rippling. He landed on the balls of his feet with a light thud, and letting his body crouch on the landing to absorb the force. He rose back to his upright position to stand on the index and middle finger of Madara's Ram seal before he finally uttered words of his own.

"A foolish proposal. But the coward usually is the one to coax the other to attack so I can determine that you are not as ruthless or demonic as the stories say. Disappointing..." His voice was deep and slightly haunting, comparing to a shadow, if a shadow could speak. Just after he spoke a disinterested sigh escaped his lips and he shut his eyes for a moment. It was hard to be excited fighting madmen these days. They all seemed to follow similar patterns of senseless action and a hunger for blood. Just once Zuka would enjoy facing off against a true shinobi, decisions made with skill and prowess in adverse to theatrics and rage. "You better be worth it or I have will have wasted my 'shinobi duties' in someone unfit to receive them."

The Hyuuga Bastard leaned forward and dropped once more to land on the curled fingers of Madara, taking a couple steps until his left foot felt the very edge, 'How should I deal with this one? Shall I take opportunity to bombard him with ninjutsu from a distance or let him come in, kind of like a bottle-neck trap, and break him down with taijutsu?' A slight, concealed smirk would take form on Zuka's face. This mental process was similar to how someone would be deciding to to prepare a meal, casual and almost humorous. The ninja clad in black had yet to move once, and by that fact alone, Zuka din't see any reason to take another step.

"Well.." his voice would once again break the silence, "are you going to make an effort too? I have no interest in engaging if you can't muster up enough ability to move forward, at least a step's worth."

[Sponsored content]