| abstract
| - Another blade whistled through the air. Kimimaro moved. His speed was blinding. His strikes deadly. But his enemies came in hordes. His heart hammered in his chest and he felt the icy sting of fear. He could not believe the stupidity of the clan leader. Even as a child he could clearly see the lack of aim to this fight. No strategy or goal... simply a ceaseless tsunami of death sweeping across the Village Hidden in the Mist. Would he live? Did he even want to continue this existence? What was his purpose here? He thought to himself momentarily. But as the blades, exploding tags, and man-made elements howled their displeasure underneath the heavens, his time to spare for introspection dwindled to zero. He shook off his doubts and redoubled his concentration on cutting down his enemies. Perhaps they had a chance. The clan leader, though not as pure in the blood as Kimimaro himself, had mastered the five dances and possessed the crowning technique of the Kaguya clan. In a moments respite between victims of his blade, Kimimaro spared a glance towards the clan leader's position. He saw him there skewering multiple opponents with a savage glee. Bones sprouted from both palms as a squad of shinobi surrounded him. The shards burst forth and impaled two of them. Their strangled cries of distress were cut off by the gaping holes that suddenly opened in their torso as the bones disintegrated into ash. Kimimaro felt a tinge of excitement rising within as he gazed upon the true power of the Kaguya clan. It only lasted a moment. In the next instant, visibility vanished as a pervasive fog rolled in. Kimimaro couldn't see a foot in front of his face. He was suddenly on the defensive barely managing to parry attacks from shinobi that had no trouble functioning under those conditions. He calmed himself and relied on his training and his other senses. There... the smell of blood and sweat laced with fear. He manipulated the bones in his inner ear, increasing the sensitivity of his hearing. An elevated heart beat moving up quickly, clothes rustling, breath whispering. Another modification in his skeletal structure and the slight vibrations of footfalls registered in his body through radically amplified bone conduction. All of these pinpointed his assailants' locations, allowing him to counter. But there was something else. An inaudible rumbling in his chest that, for some reason he couldn't identify, sent chills up his spine. It grew stronger, yet Kimimaro failed to pinpoint the source. He felt like throwing up. There was a pressure in his chest and he saw things moving out of the corners of his eyes, which made absolutely no sense as the thick fog still shrouded the landscape. Though he had never experienced it before tonight, Kimimaro knew this silent noise that could be felt, yet not heard. The clansmen whispered about it when they thought no one was listening. And when they did, it wasn't blood-lust he heard, but fear, buried in the timbre of their voices. The clansmen had a name for this phenomenon that had slaughtered many of their kind. It was the Call of the Banshī.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)