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| - "I haven't seen this much carnage since The Ten Fingers of Bloodstained Hands." said the Oyabun as he surveyed the Kaguya assault on Kirigakure with his Rengetsugan. He grunted and crossed his arms, signalling to his soldiers. They leapt into the mist, vanishing without a word. He turned to look down at the Mizukage. Their eyes met. "Have your people pull out in stages and cordon off their escape routes. Keep them occupied until you feel the signal. You'll know it instantly. My shinobi will then be the sole engaging force." The Mizuage bowed. "I look forward to seeing how the Rhythm Element performs against the Dead Bone Pulse. Things should get quite... entertaining." He chuckled and turned to bark orders to his subordinates. The Oyabun grunted as the Mist shinobi reacted to the Mizukage's orders. In seconds their escape routes became jammed with booby traps, ambushes, and hostile shinobi lying in wait. He unsheathed the sword on his back and sliced a groove across his forearm. He let his blood drip from the fresh wound onto the blade, causing it to writhe like a living thing. Swiftly he stabbed the blade into the ground at his feet. In a puff of smoke, a seemingly beautiful scantily clad woman was floating before his eyes. The surrounding fog gave way to her form, as if by royal invitation. The very air about her shimmered in the dim light. "Oui koibito." She said. "It's been so long since I've seen your handsome face." She crooked a finger at him seductively. "Can't this old girl get a hug?" The Oyabun snorted, even had he not known the consequences of coming into direct contact with her lethal frequencies, the violent yet silent ultra high frequency vibrations rippling across the entire surface of her skin lit up like daylight to his Rengetsugan. There's no way in hell he'd ever let her get her hands on him. He shrugged off her come hither flirtations and said, "I need to borrow your 'vocal cords' for a bit. The natives are restless. Target only their meridians. You'll know them by their writhing bones." Clasping his hands together, the Oyabun bowed deeply, showing his fathomless respect. "Nagoya sensei... please lend me... your twelve-tone technique." To his eyes, her wicked cackling further punctuated her silent aura within in the fog's murky depths with brilliant quivering flashes of color. Without further word the Banshī flew up over the village to survey the entirety of its landscape. Despite the shroud of mist blanketing the village, all that lay within could not escape her notice. Her words came in the most inaudible of whispers. "Jūnikei Dodekafonī." And in the next instant, the Call of the Banshī spread out across the battlefield, rumbling vehemently in the torsos of her victims. So deep was the sound it could not be heard by normal ears. It could only be felt in the body with all its foreboding glory. If one could imagine being surrounded by an aurora of the kind that belonged in the sky. And then imagine within that aurora lay hues that embraced no human names. One might understand the sight the Oyabun beheld on that night. It was yet another sight he had not seen since the infamous massacre of his people by the treacherous Uchiha Clan. It was that same technique that sent many of those Uchiha to accompany them on their sojourn into the pure world.
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