guardian of the storm | ✓

Chapter Thirty-Seven ~ Theorize

~Chapter Thirty-Seven~

Daiki appears in Winter's office in a cloud of black smoke, silent and his face grave. "The war has already progressed much faster than I previously imagined. So far the Allied Shinobi forces have been holding their own, but they're having trouble sealing the revived shinobi." He pulls down the tan hood attached to his cloak. "There is no sign of Sceptor Eight, however I believe that whoever is orchestrating this war is planning to have them enter at a time when the Allied forces think they have the upperhand."

Winter's quiet for a moment, her gaze directed on the dozens of papers spread out on her desk. "...we will monitor the war. I am planning to go after the remaining generals today, mainly to confirm a theory, which will leave the leader and the followers he still has. If my theory proves to be correct, the entire Originals will go straight after Scepter Eight and obliterate them. Then we will come back to the Storm, I will address the new Storm Shinobi, and ready my jutsu. And then..." She trails off, a distant look over taking her eye, the teenager not wanting to say the next few words. Because those words would mean that she'd have to face everyone she'd played, it would mean the loss of lives, the deaths of strangers, and the deaths of those she held dear.

"And then?" Daiki prompts her softly.

She lifts her gaze, looking at him with a hardened eye. "We go to war."

***

Fabric whispers as the cloak is pulled around the girl's shoulders. Slender fingers decorated with small scars fasten the clasp securely. Bandages fall to the ground as the same fingers swiftly untie them, the cool porcelain mask sliding onto her face seconds later. Long, black tresses are pulled back into a low ponytail that's tucked underneath the cloak. Finally the hood is pulled up, shadows falling over the pale skin of her neck, shrouding the white and red mask.

She walked out of the seemingly abandoned building deep in the forest, the red cloak swirling around her ankles.

She was ready to wreak havoc on this world.

***

If she was being honest, Winter was feeling a bit scared. Not because of the three hundred some odd people standing before her, or the five people who called themselves Generals, but rather because she could feel her lightning itching to be realised in a flurry of anger and raw energy. She'd never had this much trouble controlling her lightning before, and that had her worried.

If she couldn't even control the most basic part of her power, how was she going to help in the war? Luckily since the people before here weren't allies, she didn't have to worry about controlling her lightning too much.

It exploded out of her in a dizzing flash of light, the force of nature shrieking as it descended down below. Dirt was flung upwards as the red and white lightning strikes the area below Winter over and over and over. Her hands curl into fists, screams rising up as the people are killed by the pure electricity frying their blood. Digging her nails harshly into her skin, and drawing blood, Winter reigns back in the lightning. As the last bolt vanishes, she's left with the sight of five people in blue cloaks staring up at her, all unharmed. Each bares enough of a presence that it would make a citizen run away in fear, a genin realise that they won't make it out alive, and a chunin think that they're royally screwed.

But Winter wasn't fooled by the bravado. If she was right, and this theory had an eighty one point two percent chance of being correct, then she didn't have to feel any remorse about killing the generals. Closing her eye, Winter unsheathed her katanas, her cloak rippling in the wind that twisted amongst the hard dirt. Spinning them in a lazy circle, she took a deep breath.

Her eyes snapped open, and the last thing the five generals saw was a masked figure bringing hell to them.

***