| [May. 8th, 2014|03:31 am] |
Killing them all was about the only plan Ryouma could think of, too. But a fight on an empty hillside was far preferable to a fight in a crowded city, and both were preferable to standing here with blood drying on his armor and the faces of death in his mind.
Raidou and Katsuko were veterans. They knew how to handle themselves. They'd known going in that the targets would have guards, that they'd likely have Kiri shinobi, and that Tsuto Takayoshi and his son could afford to buy anyone in the Bingo Book. Tsuto hadn't had shinobi guards, which could mean foolhardy confidence or just that they hadn't arrived in time—
And he was done thinking. He threw himself off the roof, flared his chakra like a falling star, and ran.
The city fell away beneath him, rooftops and powercables and washing lines just strong enough to hold a shinobi's weight for the moment it took him to leap again to another roof. There was the gate of the red light district, and here was the untidy sprawl of slum huddled against the old city walls to the riverbanks. No rooftops sturdy enough to run on here; he took to the streets, a fleeting shadow gone before the startled dogs could make up their minds to bark after him. He crossed the river, running on the water, dodging between moored boats and drifting night fishermen, and reached the far bank.
His radio crackled to life. "They've split off two chakra signatures, but there are still four heading for the city. Coming faster. We're continuing for the main party. Regroup."
Behind him, the faint sparks of their ANBU tattoos veered off to the right, heading north-east. Ryouma spared the breath for just one curse and slapped his mic open. "Should I pursue the two?"
"Negative. Shield your chakra and evade."
The ANBU sparks winked out.
A frenzied heartbeat later they reappeared again, even fainter. Five hundred meters further north-east to the centimeter, he'd have bet, the very limit a sensible jounin would push a translocation. Three running steps later they blinked out and reappeared again. A kilometer in five seconds, chakra-intensive but shaving off precious time, widening the margin of safety between the sleeping city and any shinobi battle. A few hops further, and they'd be out of his sensory range.
He stopped running. He stood on the narrow trodden-dirt pathway above a rice paddy, quiet water reflecting the cloud-wracked moon. He caught his breath and gave himself a moment more to swear at Kiri nin for existing, Genma and Kakashi for pushing too fast, and the Hokage for inventing the damn jutsu that made it possible for them to do it. Then he shaped the seals and his chakra and ripped himself along the edge of the universe.
He didn't throw up this time, but he did fall into some godsdamned farmer's pigpen. |
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