| [Apr. 30th, 2014|05:18 am] |
Rage lit Katsuko’s veins. She knocked the kunoichi away with a torrent of fire. The stench of charred hair and flesh filled the air. Steam from the water jutsu still filled the hallway like a bathhouse; it hung in a stubborn fog, some sort of jutsu trick keeping it from evaporating. Katsuko sent a surge of chakra into her next onslaught of flames to kick the heat up a few more degrees.
The steam began to boil.
The Kiri ninja screamed, the kunoichi’s shriek and the shinobi’s yell rising to an inhuman pitch. Katsuko pivoted on her heel and sprinted for Masaaki’s room. The scent of burning meat dogged her heels.
Entering the master bedroom through the main doors would mean running the gauntlet of flames and steam again. She climbed back through the giant hole in the wall instead and turned on her throat-mic.
“Two hostiles down,” she informed Raidou. “Going after the genjutsu user and Masaaki now. Also, this side of the house is on fire.”
Static crackled for a short beat. "Did you set the house on fire?"
“It’s spreading fast,” Katsuko said, scanning the shadows of Masaaki’s room. The estate was big, but chakra-fueled fire was even hungrier than its mundane counterpart. “I’d say ten minutes til it reaches you, taichou.”
"Great," Raidou said. His side of the comm hissed background noise for a moment as a resounding crash and the sound of servants screaming filtered through. "Try not to bring the roof down."
“Understood,” Katsuko said, and switched her mic off. She spread her chakra out again, encompassing the room to search for the genjutsu user. Only emptiness greeted her. Frowning, she re-catalogued the details of the sculptures and paintings around her, trying to find a flaw that would tell her if she was caught in a hastily-crafted illusion. Everything was as it should be at first glance; even the crayon roses on Masaaki’s daughter’s drawing had the correct number of lopsided petals.
Behind Katsuko, the fire in the hallway surged higher. She walked further into the room to escape the stench of cooking bodies and froze mid-step when a whisper of fresh air filtered through her mask.
The window in the far corner had been left a fraction ajar. Katsuko threw her chakra out like an arrow, homing in on the gardens beyond the curtain of maple trees outside, and caught the barest shimmer of foreign chakra racing towards the outer wall.
Katsuko launched herself out the window, ducking her head to avoid the shower of shattering glass, and hit the ground at a dead sprint. Cool night air hit her mask and chased away the lingering traces of smoke in her throat. The enemy ninja’s chakra flickered as Katsuko closed in; after a moment, it stopped dead and flared in challenge, sharp and savage as a cornered tiger.
Tigers, Ryouma’s voice whispered in the back of her mind. The memory of Kakashi’s snarl shivered in her hindbrain.
Katsuko’s mouth tilted up in satisfaction. “My turn,” she said, and slid her swords free of their sheaths. Fire spilled down the gleaming edges of her blades. |
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