Kizukuro had a fond appeal to storms.
The day--if it could be deemed part of day-- was gray and dull, dour as his eyes, and the silhouettes of the trees were impeded by a heavy patter of rain, tenacious rain that sunk into the grass and stony earth of the huge clearing. Storms comforted Kizukuro; he could always be sure his power was at its max. For the time being, though, the shinobi slaughtering each other in the clearing below would not have the dire misfortune of testing their mettle against him. Whatever alliance they belonged to mattered little, since in the dark storm they were merely shadows with knives. They would annihilate each other, save for a few individuals with notable chakra signatures. Then he would descend, perhaps.The members of his organization were all off on their own missions, so only Ozawa stood beside him on that tall jagged crag. Two would be enough. Kizukuro chose only the best.
Thunder roared across the sky, as if to rend the heavens asunder. It truly was a pleasant sound, like a declaration of power or an assertion of superiority. His superiority. Let the ninja world play their foolish game of conquest. There were greater things in this world, conquest being a trifle.
A jutsu of sorts blew a hole in a man and created a small crater in the grass, like a bowl made ready for the entrails it would no doubt catch. The ninja who had fired the technique was mauled down not two seconds later by one twice his size. They really were so weak, and it made him have a change of mind. It would be fun to watch them die pitifully at the hands of an Iru Tengoku. Not his hands, though. That would be a waste.
"Ozawa," he said coolly. "Finish the work before it gets boring. Or until it gets interesting. Your decision"
The day--if it could be deemed part of day-- was gray and dull, dour as his eyes, and the silhouettes of the trees were impeded by a heavy patter of rain, tenacious rain that sunk into the grass and stony earth of the huge clearing. Storms comforted Kizukuro; he could always be sure his power was at its max. For the time being, though, the shinobi slaughtering each other in the clearing below would not have the dire misfortune of testing their mettle against him. Whatever alliance they belonged to mattered little, since in the dark storm they were merely shadows with knives. They would annihilate each other, save for a few individuals with notable chakra signatures. Then he would descend, perhaps.The members of his organization were all off on their own missions, so only Ozawa stood beside him on that tall jagged crag. Two would be enough. Kizukuro chose only the best.
Thunder roared across the sky, as if to rend the heavens asunder. It truly was a pleasant sound, like a declaration of power or an assertion of superiority. His superiority. Let the ninja world play their foolish game of conquest. There were greater things in this world, conquest being a trifle.
A jutsu of sorts blew a hole in a man and created a small crater in the grass, like a bowl made ready for the entrails it would no doubt catch. The ninja who had fired the technique was mauled down not two seconds later by one twice his size. They really were so weak, and it made him have a change of mind. It would be fun to watch them die pitifully at the hands of an Iru Tengoku. Not his hands, though. That would be a waste.
"Ozawa," he said coolly. "Finish the work before it gets boring. Or until it gets interesting. Your decision"