He moved too fast, too gracefully, for any but another ninja to keep track. It was like watching one of their canines go from a lazy romp to a hunting-fast run, streaking across the ground with deadly intensity.

Blades whirled and flashed in the sunlight, little blinks of light that blinded and alerted at once. But he moved so swiftly that should anyone follow the glitter of steel, they'd be too late.

And he, she realized as she watched the dance, would have already gutted them.

Step, slide, leap, twist--he used the ground, the trees, his chakra coiled so tightly it was almost impossible to see, highly focused and burning hot. She could smell him, but all his scent told her was that he was there; he moved too fast to track. Tsume whistled low, her eyebrows rising. He twisted, and for an instant she lost track of him. She found him, and he twisted again, melting into shadows and light, vanishing.

She found him again, caught the whirl of a blade, and knew he was at speeds that taijutsu masters worked at. Her eyebrows rose.

She lost him again.