Laughing at Cripples

Sand slithered around him, coming up around him as if he was being nestled by a snake. He could see the chakra flowing into it; each grain infused with a little blue light; the same blue hue that came off the Jinjuriki. He struggled it against it yet with every passing moment his body was feeling weaker and weaker as if the sand was sucking his energy. He managed to pull his hands free of the sand's hold as it began to grind around him, like a millstone. It made a hissing sound as it tugged and scraped against his cloak, once again reinforcing the serpentine image in Kiraku's mind.

The other two were in seemingly lost in casual conversation, with the Stabber on his feet begging for something. The words were lost to him, his ears filled with the endless noise of the grinding sands. His eyes stung; pain enveloping his head once again as his vision distorted and blurred; the finer details lost. He needed to blink, to push away the pain; Yet he was afraid that if he did, his eyes would forever go back to the mundane. He felt this was some kind of test to prove his worth. To whom, he had no idea.

[First Tomoe] (6/10)

Now at this point Volt seemed to be pleased to have his Weapon of choice back, Hiro, or rather the beast within, was still gathering sand around the man, given the lapse of time, the sand would have covered up to his waist and across his shoulders. Grinding and pressure against whatever he had under the sand thus far.

Now how much the man was fighting was honestly up to the man if he had given up on life yet or not. However, Hiro was determined that he would slowly drain the life out of the boy, choking it out would be grand, the sand that wrapped itself around the shoulders moved up while the sand around the waist continued to meet the sand at the shoulders.

Mounds upon mounds of sand swirled around him, his sandy tomb encompassing more and more of his body. Tears flowed liberally from his eyes as they turned into two coals of flaming pain, yet he stood defiant to the urge of blinking. The sand was now grinding against his bare skin and he knew he had to find a way to stop it before it would scar him rampantly across his arms and leave permanent marking or possibly worse. Using his blurry chakra vision, he searched for his arms in the swirling sand tomb that trapped him, yet it was all one big blur of a chakra; each grain emanating brightly with the powerful chakra of the Bijuu. This one, he had to try and do this without any help from his eyes. He closed his eyes, bringing in relief as the pain in his eyes dulled.

He did not do this because he gave in. On the contrary, he was cementing his defence to just give in and die. A ninja had more than sight to guide him and only a fool would depend solely on the gifts on his blood to solve every problem. He focused solely on his sense of touch as he tugged and pulled; trying to find his cloak; as sand swept through his fingers as he groped useless against the shifting sands, cutting into the flesh of his fingers. He could already feel the sand climbing up to his shoulders and neck, another problem to solve after this one was done with. A problem that if not solved, could prove very lethal.

[First Tomoe] (7/10)

Voltaire grabbed the senbon and smiled, throwing the senbon up with a little bit of a spin and then grabbing it again to insert the needle into the mouth of the spider that had shot it out.
He grabbed at the sand that he had gotten the senbon from, shaking the sand a bit like it was the hand of a gentleman who had offered him the deed of a lovely stretch of land. "Thanks a million!" Voltaire exclaimed. "So, we gonna kill this kid or not?" Voltaire asked with a terrifying degree of non chalance. He started to stroke the back of his spider puppet, waiting with bated breath for the action to increase, but also hoping against hope that he would find some way to avert complete disaster. He was not going to tolerate the death of a seemingly loyal shinobi of Sunagakure no Sato, but he also loved to watch people who were rude to him suffer. If this was just going to be teaching a kid a lesson from an under world then this was going to be some sort of fantastic, but if he had to die, Voltaire wasn't sure how he was going to take down this sand guy.

The sand kept rising, now scarping his collar. Every passing moment he took fiddling to pull the cloak around him was another pound of sand piled upon his arms; pinning them deeper and deeper in the makeshift tomb. This also made their movements hard and tiring and caused him to lose the hem of his cloak more than once but by the time the sand had enveloped his neck wholly, his cloak was twisted around him, protecting his upper body from any more scrapes. With his legs covered safely in boots and some long rags that were tied around his lower legs, for the explicit purpose of protecting him should he ever get caught in a sandstorm, he had only one problem to worry about. His head. Arguably the most important part of them all.

His neck was still exposed to the swirling sands and soon enough, cuts and bruises were blotting themselves. With all of his remaining might, he shrugged his shoulders, bringing his arms up to the surface once again. He quickly pulled up his collar, pulled his hood onto his head and took a deep breath; Hoping his tormentors were too lost in their conversation to take note of his clever ploy to survive just a bit longer. The sand kept rising and rising, and with no more resistance, it piled up nicely like a tomb around him. Enveloping him once again in darkness, this time not of his own choosing.

[First Tomoe] (8/10)

Hiro's expression began to flicker between pure delight and fear "No....." then a flicker back and then he retracted with a "Yesss" he hissed out, The Sand now focused around the neck of the kid, Forming like a noose, And started to raise up into the air as well, pulling the kid to his feet first, and then eventually lifting him up into the air, uncovering the face and even the rest of the body as it changed its attack pattern.

Hiro, or rather the beast within, Wanted to see the light leave the eyes of the kid before him, and the force around the throat would constrict even tighter, much like a snake, and with the constant moving back and forth, the force could even remove flesh and muscle if it went deep enough, also over time, this was the way he could maximize pain and prolong death so that he could enjoy it all that much more.

That is when the beast would say something that could impact the kid if he lived through this "Under grand amounts of pressure, for long periods of time, only then does Coal become diamond" this could serve as a focal building point for the kid if he paid attention. If he survived this, it was just another learning experiance for him.

Hiro deep within was trying to fight and plead with the Beast inside to let the kid go that the kid learned his lesson, but the beast would not listen at this point, and was being dismissive

He barely had time to cement himself in the dark sand tomb that the shifting sands changed their hiss of the shifting sands changed, taking a more aggressive hiss. Sand shifted around his neck, closing his head into his hood. He looked more like an executioner than the executed. Slowly he found himself slowly being lifted from the tomb, all the weight of his body hanging from his neck. He kicked and flailed uselessly, sending sand flying all over. His hand left the hems of his cloak as he tugged at the sandy noose, trying to break it or at least weaken its hold. As soon as the noose was broken, he would fall before it reformed, the bump sending fresh waves of agony. He had to find a workaround unless he planned to torture himself to death.

He was nearly a meter off the ground when the jinjuriki “taunted” him, at least that's what his advice sounded to the somehow still prideful mind of Kiraku. That was the moment when a flash of insight hit him. He always considered the teachings of the academy teachings as obvious lessons that only a fool would not know yet he realized that his way out lay through one of the oldest tricks in the book. His hands melded together under the folds of his cloak as they formed hand seals, his head hung limply as if he had given up. He found himself on the other side of the field, in mid air, falling onto the Jinjuriki. He miscalculated that part of the plan.

[First Tomoe] (9/10)

Jutsu used: Body Replacement Jutsu

The beast inside of Hiro was angry now, the boy got away, and noting the movement of the other, he looked up to see a falling boy, and Sand would grow around Hiro, still allowing him to see however, and spikes would form on the top of the shield, they were blunt but powerful, Enough that the force of a falling boy should Knock himself out.

After the boy lands, rather knocked out or not, Hiro would drop to his knees Screaming and holding his head, the sand around him falling like snow, Hiro the human was fighting back the beast now, he was determined to take control, because this was his body and his life and this beast would not take control of it from him.

Time seemed to slow down as he found himself falling from midair. His eyes stung, his vision blurred into a blue mess before his vision was restored, the scene in front of him clearer than ever. Voltaire’s face twisted as he reacted to him; alerting the jinjuriki, a second before the hung Kiraku puffed into a thick plume of smoke. Both of their chakra networks lit up, wires of chakra forming from the wannabe Kazekage’s hands and ebbing themselves into the wooden puppet; its limbs taking life as a breath of life was ushered into it, as its head clicked towards him. The Jinjuriki’s system flared, the sand around him taking its shade as is started to engulf him in a dome-like form.

His thoughts came in slurred and slow yet he could clearly see he was falling faster than the sand was mounting, giving him an in into his attack. Yet, a sheen caught his eye but it was too light. The Stabber had shot another senbon at him and it was already half-way when it caught the sun, bringing his attention away from the Jinjuriki to it. He urged his body to dodge, yet his in the middle of the air and his body’s response was delayed, as if he was thinking faster than he could act. He twisted to the right, the senbon piercing into his right flank. The pain was sharp yet he feared no poison this time.

The dome had barely completed as he crashed into it, sending plumes of sandy dust caving down onto the Jinjuriki. He planted his hands into it, tearing it apart momentarily as he slid down before it reformed. No sooner had the dust settled that he saw the Jinjurki’s chakra flare once more; the chakra disappearing from his sand dome as it rained down upon his crouched figure, his head into his hands; His chakra signature fluctuating rapidly. Was an other attack imminent?! Kiraku stood his ground this time; He had his eyes. How they were going to help, that only Kiraku's mind.

[First Tomoe: 10/10] - Awakened

Voltaire was not going to wait for somebody else to bring him his Senbon this time. He would allow his battles to be won by servants when he wore the hate of the Kazekage. He extended a final Chakra Thread from his middle finger, connecting it to the senbon and tugging it out of the man, pulling it back to himself so that he can leave. He put his hand up as he walked away, waving goodbye. "See ya' when I rule ya'!"

[ATTEMPTING TO LEAVE]

After passing out , a nurse came out of the hospital to retrive Hiro and rushed him into emergency to get him stable again, she would look to the other boy telling him he should go in with her, however still being conscious makes it so his condition isnt seen as seriously, not to mention the lack of a village destroying beast inside of him.

V1 Tail of Ichibi learned
Exit

Kiraku barely noticed the Stabber’s actions, only taking note as a sliver of pain shot through his side as the steel was pulled out. He fixed him with a glare, his body unmoving as he stared him down with his crimson eyes; his only answer to what was a taunt in Kiraku’s mind, hopefully, his dojutsu making his ragged demeanour look more fearsome.  Yet he wasn’t really worried about the Stabber.  It was the Jinjuriki which really worried Kiraku. He lay sprawled on the ground, his chakra signature a shadow of the blaze it was previously. He was unsure if this was some trick to make him lower his guard yet he stepped forward cautiously; his stance ready to fight, even though he already got his arse beat without his foe lifting a finger.  Yet another part of him wanted to help him, get in his good graces. His was a fellow Suna Shinobi after all; regardless of how close he had come to killing him. It could be said that mixed in with fear, he felt a sense of compassion; for a single moment; although Kiraku himself would not have admitted it. Why should he care for this man anyway? He was not going to be buddy-buddy with every joe just because they shared his village. He turned, walking away from the unconscious jinjuriki.

He barely had taken two steps before he heard some woman shouting in the distant. Wanting to be cool, edgy and uncaring, he kept walking on, his hands in his pockets as he brooded; the shouting kept getting louder and louder with every passing second, although the words were still a garble. It was when the words made sense that he stopped; It was calling straight out to him. He stopped yet he did not turn, trying to decide what to do. He just wanted to go home and sleep away this defeat, not in the mood for any more hassle yet…

He turned back, just to see who was calling out; when he walked straight into a chest. A really well endowed chest that was panting up and down, covered in sweat. A shrill scream cut through the air as the owner pushed him back. Yet he did not care much; Seeing chests with his crimson eyes was something else entirely to what he was used to seeing. The detail, every movement tracked, every bounce and jiggle. His eyes moved upwards for just a moment, to examine the owner. She was a red haired nurse; dressed in a white dress, a red cross on its lapel. She was out of breath and covered in sweat, which Kiraku assumed was from running after him and all that shouting. Pressure built up in his left nostril, a tendril of blood flowing.

So instead of the nurse seeing two boys only the one, and took him to get looked at, and treated, upon waking up, Hiro had to undergo a serious of psycheatric tests, but Hiro was not going to have it so he left on a cloud of sand, redressed in his cloths, he was not risking another chance for the beast, and needed to get somewhere secluded and away from other people.

She seemed really hassled, her voice filled with panic as she kneeled down and dabbed at his nose and face with a handkerchief, fussing over him and giving him a better view. Worried, she asked was wrong. Being the sleazy arsehole he was, Kiraku replied “Just a lucky accident.” a shit-eating grin on his face as he winked. The Nurse picked him up by the collars of his shirt and it was then when he realized how tall she really was. His eyes automatically went down, his sense of desire overriding the fear factor of the situation. A hard slap brought him back eye to eye with the situation. She was barraging him with questions, who and what happened and why was the Jinjuriki on the ground, unconscious? Why was he bleeding? Did they fight? Why? Is he hurt? Was the Jinjuriki hurt? Kiraku shook his head to all the questions, which lead her to ask more and more questions. When she finally stopped to take a breather and put him down, he found his chance to explain the situation. His version of the situation. “He just messed with the wrong guy and I showed him what’s what.” he said, hands in his pockets as he spit an imaginary blob of tobacco. Ah, Lying. What could ever go wrong with that?

Another slap sounded across the empty courtyard.

Crimson faced and crimson eyed, Kiraku walked back home, lost in thought. After getting a telling off by the nurse for instigating an extremely volatile person who had the power to do a lot of damage, she and a couple of nurses carried the Jinjuriki inside the hospital. The Red-Haired nurse glaring at him like an enraged bull every step of the way.

He had suffered a crushing defeat today; at the hands of The Stabber, practically a glorified six-year-old and his wooden puppet. The Jinjuriki had been on a completely different level than both of them, nearly killing him without lifting a finger. yes, It had brought great boons with it and nice sights; yet it also showed how powerless he truly was, no matter how little he wanted to admit it. The facts spoke for themselves. Apart from his sharp wit and bravado, he only had Academy Training. His parent’s words rung in his head, as he mouthed them slightly to himself. “Regardless which clan’s blood flows through you, it will not matter if it is pooled under you.” At the memory of his parents, he realized how tired and hurt he was, his side bleeding, his hands and knees scraped and bruised, his clothes tattered. Things had to change. Things will change. At Least after he had taken a nice hot bath and slept a bit. Then things will surely change.