guardian of the storm | ✓

Chapter Sixteen ~ Veni Vidi Vici

~Chapter Sixteen~

The purple haired woman securely fashioned her cloak onto her shoulders, tying her hi-ate around her neck loosely. Silver eyes clash with ever shifting ones, the white haired man leaning against the wall with shinobi battle armor on. "You sure about this?" He says smoothly not caring about the flash of irritation that appears on Emiko's face.

"Whether you like it or not, she is our comrade and to be quite blunt; she has the ability to overcome any of the opponents she faces. Because no matter how strong her opponent is my lady will become stronger. It's a fact of life. If she believes that she requires our assistance then we shall help her with no questions asked, even if curiosity is present."

She grabs a ceramic mask styled like a fox, painted with a few streaks of silver and red. She slips it on to hide her face, tying it on securely. "We have a duty to uphold and we are going to do it without hesitation. Understood Daiki?" Her sharp tone leaves no room for argument and he nods, fixing his own cloak before accepting the ceramic eagle mask. He slips it on, his eyes shifting between a silver to match Emiko's and a dark void.

"After all of this we're going to start... right?" Emiko nods drawing up the hood of her cloak to hide her unique hair and takes a step outside of the house, looking around the mostly rebuilt village. The storm barrier overhead is developed into a certain sight not normally seen with the ever moving clouds a mix of white and grays, clashing together. "Right." She lets a smile crack her usually stoic facade seeing how no one else could see it.

Daiki draws up his own hood and walks to the right of Emiko, not a step ahead or behind her, the two perfectly in sync. If their trio was complete then the final member would be walking in front of them and in the center, the leader of this whole ordeal even though most believe it is Emiko herself who is the leader. The barrier shifts and makes way for the two to walk through, the duo standing on the edge of the cliff as they exit the only way they knew how to.

A simple summoning jutsu and a Bald Eagle flies in place, patient as the two get on. With powerful wing strokes it rising into the air, Emiko glancing behind her to look at the Storm Village with unyielding certainty.

"This place shall return to its previous glory with the help of my lady, and all wrongs will be set right."

***

Even though she was surrounded by at least ten guards Winter couldn't stop her racing mind as a particular thought stayed always present. When she dashed forward to break out of the circle the black clad people had formed around her, it was the second thing she was thinking about. And as she destroyed them all she still could only concentrate on the thought of the white haired teenager fighting alongside her. That teenage boy who stood no less than ten feet away named Ja'far.

Ja'Far Fukkishimi, someone she'd thought was long dead, the black sheep of the Fukkishimi Clan. He was one of the hundreds that died in the massacre of her village, she dug his grave and buried his body, so how was he still breathing?

Sliding on her knees between a small opening, she cuts down several guards with an emotionless face letting her reflexes take over and trusting her muscle memory to protect herself. Ja'far moved swiftly with her, the two using a mixture of Kenjutsu and the ancient martial arts that were drilled into their heads from the moment they could walk.

Together they were a force to be reckoned with.

It took them some time but they eventually fought their way out to the empty arena. Due to the predicament Judal must've canceled the fights that were supposed to happen today. A sharp wind races across the sky and stings their cheeks, sand flying around. Squinting in the haze of white Winter did an aerial to kick some unfortunate guard in the face and used one hand as she tumbled to the ground to push herself back off of the sand, doing a one hand spring with minimal effort. Every move she did was polished and merciless, the look in her eye enough to make one falter let alone the sight of her with next to no wounds and a sword dripping with blood.