With one swift lurch, Dazai shifted his position to intercept what he believed to be Ren. His blade wasn’t in a defensive position, however- instead, he appeared ready to simply be impaled by Ren’s attack in order to successfully land his own. The fire in Dazai’s eyes wasn’t put off for a moment in the face of receiving a fatal wound.
That made him all the more upset when the first Ren disappeared as soon as its sword touched his chest. Denied his suicidal exchange, Dazai could only huff in disappointment as he kicked the ground beneath his heels and beat a quick retreat rather than continuing his attack. A spray of water erupted from underfoot and with a swift motion he released his grip on his blade to form a few simple hand seals, catching his weapon before it tumbled too far.
”You used the same strategy against my son- did you really think children’s tricks were going to save you?”
Within the falling water fell five more cohesive blobs of liquid. Their shadows fell to the moist earth underfoot and then surged at Ren from each cardinal direction without hesitation.
Dazai has Stage Four Jaws of Death and jounin scaling, therefore:
Stat Requirements: Strength 18, Speed 14, Stamina 11, Willpower 14
Stage Bonuses: +20 Strength, +8 Stamina, +8 Speed
Strength (18) +20- Level 7
Speed (14) + 8 - Level 4
Stamina (11) + 8 - Level 4
Stage Three Suiton:
Name: Kasui no Akki (River Devils)
Requirements: Power 10, Control 10, Willpower 8
Descriptions: Tiny aquatic constructs are created on any visible wet surface, usually in the shape of fish but possibly in the shape of any marine animal no larger than a rat. These constructs can travel through any connected wet surfaces or water sources no matter how shallow. River Devils have Level 4 in all physical stats, but only when in water or attacking from it. On dry land they flap around uselessly before evaporating away. River Devils are boiling hot to the touch and emit a slight cloud of steam before they attack. They can bite or claw with kunai sharpness, or detonate into a spray of boiling hot water with a radius of 5 feet. River Devils last until they sustain one attack.
Stage 4 Effect: 5 Devils are created.
A suiton! Not unexpected- almost all Kirigakure shinobi took some form of the water manipulation ninjutsu. Access to other elements out in rural Water Country was difficult and even if a ninja could find someone to teach them other ninjutsu, it often just wasn’t practical. How often was there enough earth around to use doton, or enough snow around to use hyouton?
Ren’s face was still torn in a mocking smile as he shifted his stance on the water, twisting his blade to kill the momentum of his mammoth swing, shifting the hilt in his hands to bank the blade. His eyes, however, told a different story. Each eye stayed wide open and his pupils danced around his range of vision as Ren tried to count the number of hand seals formed by Dazai and notice any major ones while looking for changes in his environment. He was like a crazed dog, baring his fangs and treating every movement like it was a threat.
Almost imperceptibly, his stance changed. He adopted a knightly posture with his blade, pulling it in close to his body with the tip brought close in an upward angle, the broadside covering most of his visible body. It was Kaifukuryoku, the resilience form of Sanshi no Mizu. Seeing his wild eyes and smile as he imitated the stance of much more meditative and spiritual warriors brought a new line of barking laughter from the surrounding voyeurs.
There was a sizzling pop, steam broiling. Ren’s eyes locked onto the spot below him and adjusted his stance just in time for the translucent fish-like construct erupted from the water and collided with his blade. It felt just like a real animal colliding with his blade, wriggling with a simulacrum of life, before - with what sounded like an animalistic hiss – it exploded with scalding water, diverted only by the metal of his blade. The surface of the sword sizzled as Ren gritted his teeth.
Can’t be just one…!
He flipped the blade around by curling his arms over one another, palms of his wrists rubbed together, and then spiraled his stance out with one sturdy movement from his legs, keeping his core rigid – afraid to tear his wound open. Water and mud spiraled up into the air, as four more fish-like constructs erupted from the water, each from a different angle, each offset just enough to make a simple movement not nearly enough to get out of the way…!
But when the curtain of water fell back down, the last of the four fish constructs falling back into the water with a hissing rage, Ren was completely gone but the water itself was in turmoil, like a whirlpool was starting to form.
Ren was dancing around in liquid form, skirting underneath the surface of the ankle-deep water as he tried to outrace the four remaining submerged missiles. It was disorienting as always, since no amount of practice could normalize having his vision scrambled by the water puddle technique. He gritted his teeth – at least mentally – and found an opening, rocketing like a riptide towards one of the giant curling root structures. His oozing form clung to the vegetation for a few moments before he appeared with a splash of water, returning to solid form and running up and above the battlefield. His legs were already sore from all the scampering around that morning, and he knew that going into a suiton form couldn’t have been good for his bandages, but he had to trust in the process.
Name: Mizutamari no Jutsu (Water Puddle Technique)
Requirements: Intelligence 5, Tactics 4, Willpower 4
Description: The user melts into a goo-like puddle of water roughly the same size as their body. From the outside the puddle looks just like water. While in this form the user can only see what images are reflected in the puddle's surface. If someone steps into the puddle, the user may suddenly 'boil' up to life, splashing hot water and causing small burns. If the puddle is attacked the user reverts back to normal and takes the full damage of the attack. The puddle may move at Level 1 Speed on dry land, or at normal Speed levels in larger bodies of water. This technique cannot be used to travel through any gaps the user normally couldn't squeeze though.
Water erupted in four geysers as the River Devils exploded from the surface. Each of the animal-shaped blobs of water spread their fins wide, like winged flying fish. They seared through the air with a crackle-splash and once again came spiraling towards Ren at separate speeds and vectors, but now he had the benefit of a bit of breathing room, and a higher elevation besides. He tossed a handful of his precious imported shuriken and kunai yanked from the stash hidden inner pocket of his armor, One fish exploded in a steamy mist, forming a rainbow in its hateful wake, but the next three slipped right on by.
One collided with the cutting edge of the head-chopping cleaver. Another skated on the surface of the blade, lost its aquatic form, and fizzled out in another cloud of scalding water. The final devil chomped down with a sickening crunch, biting into the shoulder of his chuunin vest. Ren shouted, angry and terrified of the boiling water so close to his face, and turned the other way with a yelp. The fish exploded and he screamed out in agony as he felt his ear and neck immediately blister, eardrum popping and leaving him dazed and half-deaf.
His heart was pounding in his chest as he regained his stance, one hand holding his giant sword, the other pointing his fingers at his face as he grimaced.
The sight of Gushiken Ren getting what he ‘deserved’ brought a silent cheer among the MLEA agents watching, but the duel was far to risky for anyone to make any more noise than necessary. One of the agents thumbed his radio and issued a quiet request. “Anyone nearby?”
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“Not yet. Maya’s goons are scrambling around the village like headless chickens. They don't have a clue. We got time.”
”You’re doing a disservice to your uniform, whelp!” Dazai stabbed his sword at nothing, spraying water upwards as the blade bit into the ground underfoot. ”Is it fear? Are you afraid that what you’ve done to others will now be done to you?” A swordsman through and through, Dazai never bothered to learn much genjutsu. The ninja art of illusion simply wasn’t something that showed up in history books or heroic tales- a conceit that cost many a would-be professional shinobi their lives. Dazai dipped his toes into the art of misdirection for a very specific purpose- for exactly, precisely this confrontation. He formed the seals with eager excitement, just like he used to practice in the mirror.
”You were afraid of my son, too! I’m sure if you sober up a little, you’ll remember it!”
Stage Two Mist Genjutsu
Shiiru Ninpou: Umibozu (Force Ninja Arts: Sea Priest): Reserves 6, Control 5, Intelligence 5
A fake memory is instilled in the target. This memory is from their early childhood, and has them traumatized by a specific subject matter. That subject can be an item, an animal, an event, etc. The user can decide what the subject matter of the memory is, but not the specifics of the memory. When the duration of the technique ends the target can still remember that moment, but they will realize the memory was fake. Discrete.
Trigger: Hearing the user’s voice.
Memory, fickle memory. Ren just as soon would have drowned out his with whatever cheap liquor was on hand, but sometimes the brain just wouldn’t let something go.
Days, weeks, years might pass, but then suddenly a memory of a recollection of a thought would bubble up in the subconsciousness and let loose. Ren hadn’t thought of that day in years, but now it was as clear to him as the burning in his ear.
He looked down at Dazai, who looked up with the expectant face of a cat waiting for its prey to get within pouncing distance. Time slowed down. Ren’s memory took an unnaturally crystal clear hold in his head, piercing through the fog of the drugs. All at once and out of order but somehow making sense the pieces started fitting together. He was eight years old, maybe, on the streets, stealing food- then snatched up and thrown into one of Kirigakure’s orphanages. The offer made to him was to become a shinobi, or a sailor, with both sounding like different types of slavery. Ren went with ninja training without really understanding what that meant. Years of struggling with his studies followed, with him unable to read anything but the most simple scripts. Older generations of shinobi and villagers giving him scraps, helping him fix his clothes, pushing him towards the few dojos that were so devoid of students they would accept a rabid dog like him. A flash of a memory of his traitor-father, killed and strung up for his terrorism. Mocking tones of his mother...what was her name again? Ren wasn’t an orphan but he wished he had been. All the other students in the Academy had friends, families, uncles, aunts...warm food. Knew how to read well, all the scripts of the islands. Everyone said he was just fodder, a bloody sacrifice for the end of the academy days, the deadly battle royal. Ren’s entire life would be cut short.
Sins of the father, sins of the mother.
Too tall for ship duty. Didn’t matter he learned to astronavigate. Didn’t matter he knew all the best ways to take advantage of cover and mountains and mist. Didn’t matter. Too lanky and awkward to fit in the hammocks. Too addicted to booze. Too easy to start a fight. He’d need to be a front-line brute if he’d be anything. Judgment day finally came, his graduation fight. Ren didn’t really believe in any deities, but the night before he prayed for an easy match-up. There was no other future he could see when he entered that arena.
The arena. Prospective Kirigakrue shinobi could only graduate to the genin rank by defeating one of their own in combat. The Bloody Mist wasn’t the meat grinder it used to be, but everyone knew how vicious child soldiers could be after years of indoctrination. The skinny Ren entered that wide dirt clearing dragging his sword behind him and saw who he would be up against.
Keigo Daiya. The class ace, top of the class in every subject. He wasn’t cruel, but he didn’t like Ren any better than anyone else. He knew how to use twin swords, from his mother, a shinobi of high status. He knew how to use advanced ninjutsu, from his father, a shinobi legend who saved hundreds of lives. He was one step removed from the same type of honor you’d give a master of a bloodline. Pure Kirigakure ninja stock, going back generations, to the foundation of the village, on both sides. There was no doubt he would be a hero, someone worth looking up to. The crowd chanted his name.
The days leading up to the fight – panic. Study. He had always trained early in the morning, went to class, got mocked for stinking and being tired, and trained late into the night. He had to – everyone said his only possible worth would be as a swordsman. If he couldn’t cut it as a warrior, he’d never be able to be a tactician or a sailor or anything else. Master the sword first, then prove your worth.
But against Keigo-san? He was too fast, too strong, too clever. Rumor had it he could even beat their academy sensei.
Ren's perception left his mind to rejoin reality for a moment, just to look down at down at Daiya. No, not Daiya. Dazai. The father. Now he understood. That stance wasn’t the same as Daiya’s – he had his own sword style separate from his wife. But that face, that calculation, that sharp look in his eyes.
A predator wearing the flesh of a human. Ren’s idea of himself shattered. He wasn’t a shark, he wasn’t a field of jellyfish, he wasn’t a raging tempest.
He was a lanky, awkward boy with his hair in his face, an old sword too heavy to be used by anyone else in the class in his hands, struggling to maintain the momentum between each swing.
A moment of hopeless fear washed over him. He was regurgitating old terrors but it didn't make the acrid sting any less potent. For a moment, Ren felt on the edge of the abyss.
Then, from that abyss, came a memory deeper than any other. An image beyond the clarity of those memories of his youth that he thought he buried with grog and whiskey. A reverberating echo of a thought came to him that he shouldn’t have had at all.
The corona around the eclipse burned straight overhead. A Ren, from before the cataclysm, sat atop the water. He was nude, each cut of his muscles and scars illuminated by the eerie flickering light burning overhead. His massive cleaver sword lay next to him, partially submerged, coated in rust. Another Ren, the one living through the nightmare, stood apart from that Ren. This one's arms were folded against the neatly-pressed officer’s uniform strapped to his chest. His decorated sword – Narke – rested on his back. His cursed gauntlets reflected the obscured sun overhead and in those facets the real Ren, the one staring at these two copies with unbelieving eyes, could see layers and layers of his unlived history. His legacy, his exploits, his fame- unrealized dreams that dripped off the black blade of Narke like blood.
The pair shared silence as they looked up at the wall of the massive cavern, the memories flickering across like a film being projected.
“Ain’t quite how I remember it,” Ren the first said.
“We’re old now. We know everyone else was scared too. Don’t hold onto that resentment anymore.” said Ren the second.
They exhaled in unison, chopping their teeth together in a harmonious click of shark-toothed irritation. “We shouldn’t have done what we did to Daiya. We could have called the fight. Almost everyone else in the class didn’t bring it to blood.”
“Didn’t know you could do that. Didn’t know the rules. Everyone said it was a fight to death, didn’t know it was a gentleman’s agreement.”
“Didn’t have the culture, the familial history to understand. A bloody Mist, just a rumor to strike fear in the hearts of others.”
The water was muddy, but flowers sprouted everywhere and anywhere. The lotus from the mud – beauty blossoming from filthy roots. The beehive-like cores of the flowers all glittered with a light dew.
Hasu, lotus. Ren. Lotus. He was named for the flower that grew despite its odds and inspired beauty. Ren – it meant love.
The memories sank again. Ren’s attention returned to the surface, to reality.
“Oy, oy, oy, oy, oy...” Ren said. His arm was shaking, and his massive sword was flexing from the movement. “You think I’m still scared of some punk-ass kid’s old washed up father?”
He glared down his nose from his perch up on the mangrove. Almost no time had passed, somehow. “I got a real simple philosophy. The excitement. The chase. The fight. I can’t be bothered with a boring lifestyle. Not everyone gets a second chance, you know. You wanna throw your life away on my sword, like your son before you? I’ll kill anyone who stands in front of me.”
That massive blade almost seemed to vibrate ominous as he brought it above his head. It reflected the lightning that was crawling through the sky’s growing storm clouds. Hot rain started to sizzle all around them, kicking up the mist. “You wanna doubt me like everyone else? I’m a goddamned monster too!”
Gushiken Ren, Kirigakure’s silent killer, faded away into the mist.
Gushiken Ren is Mist Village’s Silent Killer
The Silent Killer is a master of stealth. Once per target, he can approach undetected. This stealth effect is broken upon taking any offensive action, but otherwise continues as long as the Silent Killer remains in cover.