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

Corruption

The fox-masked Hozuki kunoichi sent somewhat mixed signals. On one hand, she deactivated her signature version of the Hydrification Jutsu making her limbs return to normal and got out of her fighting stance. On the other, her body language did not appear all too crushed and ready to submit. Now more than any time in recent memory the Chinoike would have liked to see the woman's face.

"When exactly did I strike you as the type to get all worked up over some miserable loser who couldn't track his own hydration and got flunked by a trick as simple as raising the heat and applying pressure?" the kunoichi asked with an almost demeaning tone, however, the fact that she did not simply resume her task of killing the injured and kneeling Chinoike nearby told more than her bluff. Although, her hesitation to resume her murderous actions may have been due to the fact that she's realized her triumphant moment was now squandered. It certainly did appear from first glance that the Hozuki scolded herself a bit about that on the inside, judging from how erratic her twitches and small muscle ticks got.

"You're right, you're not the type to give up just to save your comrade's life." The winged swordsman of the Chinoike agreed. "However, consider your chances if this battle continues. What odds of survival do you have fighting four to one, in a patch of the valley sunken in heated gas that makes every use of Hydrification even more dangerous than it already is? You may be ruthless enough to sacrifice teammates as pawns but you are no fool, not in the sense you understand foolishness, anyway."

"Mizoma is going to kill you all. Even if all of you attack him at once, he will find a way to eliminate you all. He's the type of guy to do something like that." The Hozuki kunoichi warned the Chinoike.

"I doubt it." The cloaked Chinoike replied, his arm turned to a bloody appendage once more and the large spike in the center of his palm protruded out. It was a mean of threatening the woman to not try anything foolish. "He is not here right now, is he? That means either that he's found more of a challenge in the three of us he has engaged, which means he will in no way slay all of the Chinoike, or that one of the mysterious helpers has also joined the fight against him. In that case, the miraculous genocide you're speaking of is even less likely as even more ninja have joined the fray and they're not on your murderous side."

"It is clear that we will not reach common ground here. Go, join your superior and hope that your hatred gives you remotely enough will to carry this through. In my experience, however, the will to survive is always stronger." The Chinoike swordsman placed his blade back into its odd zip-up sheath and threw it over his shoulder, appearing almost as if he was carrying an entire contrabass around on his rear.

"Oh, I am going nowhere near that man. He will kill me the moment he hears that we failed to beat you." The fox-mask lady spoke in a tone suggesting that the mocking noises coming from under her mask were cackles.

"And your clan? Won't you find yourself in a similar situation as us if you return them and admit your own failure?" the cloaked Chinoike wondered. At this point, the feeling of imminent threat to his life has left the man's worry. It was now just mere curiosity that guided his tongue and thoughts.

"The Hozuki are more... Adaptable. Although nowhere near enough to stop wishing you death. You're like a stain of death on their fancy, silken dress. Eventually, they'll find bleach good enough to wipe you clean." Letting her words linger for a while in the stuffy and scorching air, the Hozuki kunoichi flowed away as a stream of water, splitting apart into multiple ridges and underground crevices. Somehow managing to maintain her liquid shape of water even in the face-melting temperatures that reminded the locals of a holiday on the Sun.

Chitsu jumped on his feet, stumbling forward and utilizing the hate in his chest to carry his massive, still armored frame forward. Bit by bit, the armored plates of the Chinoike collapsed, letting go of even the strongest strands of flesh tissue keeping them together and stuck on their owner's body. The gelatinous blobs of white and red clots revealed themselves once the Chinoike brawler lost his infernal armor look.