| Eye of the Storm [Genma, Rina] | [Apr. 19th, 2010|09:27 pm] |
[Backdated: Takes place three and a half years ago, in mid-September, about a year and eleven months after the Kyuubi attack, and six months after Genma's rescue from the Iwagakure prisons.]
It had been so straightforward, to start out.
Two chuunin and a jounin; one sacrificial Konoha bunker in the depths of Rai no Kuni. Half a day to weave trapping seals so tightly into its foundations that the floorboards quivered and it seemed to stagger beneath the weight.
It would be one more needle in Cloud's side, and yet another proof of Konoha's overwhelming martial superiority -- that was what Sandaime said. To prevent another all-out war, he said, during political briefings when the still-straggling upper ranks of Konoha ninja rattled about in a room meant for so many more.
Rina didn't quite understand, but she believed him when he said it.
The booby-trapping itself had been easy: after nearly two years in Konoha's seal division, with full access to its massive library, Rina knew more than enough official and unofficial nastiness to trap ten bunkers the same size without resorting to repeats. She'd never worked with her current teammates Shouji and Yushiro before, but they seemed like solid ninja, relaxed and easy in their competence; knowing they were standing guard outside, Rina had felt safe.
A muffled thud and screech of metal echoed against cragged granite walls, and half a foot of solid stone no longer felt thick enough. Not when you were suddenly fighting shinobi melted out of the sparse forest like shades, who could slice through stone as if it were butter. The splayed layers of interlocked ink tossed up in haste amongst her traps, though she trusted her own abilities, seemed fragile protection against steel.
Outside, someone's agonized howl cut off in a whimper, the distorted sound barely slipping through the fortress walls of chakra. She couldn't tell whose voice it was. She'd long since papered over the viewport with a seal-encrusted scroll; visibility was not important enough to risk vulnerability, and she already knew, with her unique but currently unsuitable set of skills, that there was nothing she could do to help.
There was nothing she could to do help.
Clutching an elegant three-pronged sai in her left hand, and a brush tipped with ink in her right, Rina crouched on one safe square in the midst of her creations and waited for the tempest to pass. |
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