Tales of a Ninja Magician: Of Games of Body and Soul

Of Men Humbled By Hawks

A flock of hawks took off from the ground where they've been feasting on a pair of chickens. The birds of prey ate unhindered by the owners of the farm birds now that they were otherwise predisposed. It did not take long for Kiyomi to catch up to Hanshin. If the special jounin had attempted to get away from her, to get anywhere he badly wanted to be, she'd have been left in the dust. Clutching at straws and tracking footprints, moving fifty meters in the right direction every minute or so. May as well have been standing still at that pace. No. Hanshin was purposefully moving slow. The Yamanaka knew better than to assume it was to give her a chance to catch up, he could not have given fewer singed hairs of a rat's behind.

"Ease up." Hanshin finally acknowledged her existence, of course, it would have been with a command. While the words may have been those of an advice, the tone implied the former. It was unlikely that the bastard had enough empathy in him to advise anything. All he knew was how to make sure that nothing around him got in his way or slowed him down, except himself, when he wanted to, apparently.

"Aren't we in a rush?" Kiyomi wondered. Giving in to the command of this man made her naturally feel a bit rebellious, if he was to get what he wanted, he'd have to work for it and convince her. It was an illusion of power that she had a choice in the matter but it was sweet enough to give it a little lick.

"We're tracking a predator that's been hurt. He'll be wary now, warier than he's ever been. We need to make him believe that he's the predator and not a lump of meat and fur again. Predators only pounce when they firmly believe in their status, hunting needs effort and effort is the currency of the natural economy." Hanshin explained. He was not irritated, in fact, he looked a tad amused and proud in his own image. Come to think of it, Kiyomi didn't remember a time that the latter had ever left his duffel bag of emotion.

"You've lowered your armor, haven't you?" Kiyomi turned at the team's leader.

"Goes without saying, otherwise, what's the point? Hanshin did not realize this before but Hanshin is glad you came. You're worn and wounded, the smell of blood will draw the slug out." The avatar of masculine perfection bent and twist his lower back in a way that exposed both his neck and all of the blind spots on his back. Not even the Hyuuga, the clan with perfect vision and awareness of their surroundings could track all around them, with someone like Hanshin, his blind spots were even greater, however, this time this worked to his advantage.

"What's the point if he's not a sensor?" Kiyomi sighed, feeling more and more breaths soothe her lungs. Like a freezing waterfall that took out the fire inside her chest. She took some mean blows while she was unconscious, the mental trauma she suffered while inside Meiko's body was not something to be dismissed, it might take a while to shrug the creeping dread off completely.

"Oh, he'll be able to tell." Hanshin grinned while using his hands to cover up his eyes, a bold taunt for his opponent. A call for the childish instinct that told one that the one seeking was still counting and therefore oblivious, vulnerable... "People like him, they can always tell weakness, vulnerability. They smell it."

A silver glow streaked from the corner of a nearby tent, shining just enough to pierce the hole in the fur that covered it and reach the curious eyes of the Konoha ninja who were looking at all directions and scanning for their target. Even though the light remained consistent in its brightness, after the initial spark, it became blinding, irritating and overpowering, both Kiyomi and Hanshin stumbled back and covered up their eyes in response to the vexing reaction.

A shape of an athletic young woman weaved and stranded into being, the rays of light that gave it color and appearance spun and tied around one another like a spider's web. The long, red hair of the female blacksmith flowed with vigor behind the blacksmith's back.