Defined by an Opposite

[Punslinger]

Strength “Iori! It’s almost noon! Get down here.” Sasuga yelled from the bottom of the steps. She’d hardly finished her sentence before Iori’s bare feet could be seen making their way down, soon followed by the rest of her, fully dressed save for the lack of shoes. She’d been up for an hour or so, but having nothing better to do, she’d lain on her bed and swirled a small cloud of needles above her head for that time, daydreaming about nothing in particular and enjoying the sounds of life outside her window. As per normal, her mother’s voice had been the first unpleasant sound to grate its way into her ears.

“I’m up, I’m up.” The teen groaned, more so mourning the loss of her silence than anything her mother did specifically. Besides, she liked surprising her mother by proving her wrong on occasions such as this where her mother presumed her daughter to be doing one thing when she was in actuality doing another.

“Do you remember that you promised to clean out the storage house today?” Sasuga said, crossing her arms expectantly. Now of course the teen had no recollections of such a promise, but her mother had been known to take disinterested grunts for blood oaths on occasion, and she assumed this was one such case. And in this particular case, she didn’t really mind the command anyway. The “house” her mother was referring to was actually a wing of their own home that looped around the perimeter of their land and resided on the back end of the compound. Her father had lived there for several months just before he’d left, but in recent years it had become a haven for all the family’s junk, which suited Iori just fine. Her mother had just given her a license to go goof off for half the day and then scramble to get something worthwhile done for inspection come dinner time.

After a short meal, the teen strolled down the long walkway that led across the grassy courtyard area to the shed-like facility. Sliding open the door, she stood gawking for a second before stepping inside. There was a narrow pathway through all the various boxes and detritus that was beginning to quickly disappear. Iori had a vague idea of what all the building contained; somewhere among all the junk were her grandparents possessions, left to her mother after they died. Somewhere on top of that was Iori and Akako’s various childhood possessions, packed away and forgotten. The last layer was divided between an assortment of things left behind by her father when he’d left and various out of season rubbage that her mother had bought or forgotten over the years. That was likely the things that Sasuga wanted her to get rid of, although she doubted the woman would object to a complete removal of anything her father had left behind as well.

Sighing, the girl walked next door to the garden shed, where she removed a sturdy looking wagon. She wasn’t especially strong, and she was going to need help taking the junk from where it rested around to the side gate, where a large dumpster sat in the alley. Striding back into the mess, Iori hefted several bags into the wagon from the door. They’d held several old festival dresses her mother had made for her years earlier, too old and too small to reuse for anything else, and there were no little girls that Iori knew of who could use them. Moving a little deeper, a box full of old scrolls bore need of inspection. Soon, the teen could be seen dragging the bulky box out to her wagon as well; old calendars and a few maps were definitely in need of disposal. Several minutes later, the remains of a slightly broken chair, another box of old pamphlets from some long forgotten event, and some cheaply made pottery that someone had carelessly set under yet another box of scrolls. The Shitagane family was by no means short on literature. Seeing that her load was in danger of spilling off into the lawn, Iori grabbed the handles on the wagon and began slowly dragging it toward the alley. All her accumulated trash was indeed heavy, and on the soft grass, the load threatened to stop her entirely. It took several minutes to reach the gate, and another one or two to get the wagon over the deep gravel to the dumpster. Brushing her hair out of her face, Iori began the tedious task of emptying the wagon’s contents into the garbage bin. Of course it figured that on the one day Sakki wasn’t haunting her footsteps that she’d need his help. With the wagon finally emptied, Iori dragged it back to the shed, stepping back inside. Further inspection led her to leave her father’s favorite chair where it sat; Akako had expressed an interest in it, and it still looked to be in good condition. Shifting it aside though, Iori caught a glimpse of something shining dimly in the dark building, buried far back in the rubble. Pushing boxes, chests and assorted furniture aside (with a great deal of effort), Iori made her way back to the pile. By now, her hair was frizzy and she’d broken a sweat, but her struggle had not been in vain. The shine had come from the corner of a very old chest, made with what looked like mountain pine from Rock Country. Undoing the elaborate brass latch and shifting the small basket full of spools of silk thread and patches of cloth, the teen held her breath as she lifted the lid, which was let out in a slow gasp as she saw the contents.

“Jackpot.” Surely this was a treasure chest left from the days of her grandparents, possibly her great grandparents, who had been something akin to nobility once upon a time. Divided into two portions, one side of the box held a silken bag, which contained a ceramic kabuki mask, painted with chartreuse webs of lightning that trawled across the left side of the mask, set in contrast to the dark blue lips, all of which was lacquered to a breathtaking, almost hypnotic sheen. Iori held it with the silk bag, and gently placed it back inside using the hem of her dress. It seemed a shame to mar the surface of something so precious with fingerprints. Under the mask, a wooden makeup box sat atop a luxurious kimono, complete with sandals and what looked like the makings of a wig. Setting the mask gently back down, the curious teen eagerly turned her attention to the other side of the chest. She could barely contain her giggle of glee when she pulled the ratty looking cloth off of yet another mask. This one was blank steel, save for the eye holes and a stamped set of fangs, not to mention the fact that it attached to a kabuto, or samurai helmet. This just had to belong to her great grandfather, a nobleman and a descendant of warriors for the daimyo from centuries back. On the front, the maedate crest took the shape of two spreading lightning bolts, thin and sharp. The temptation to try the piece on was just too great; Iori felt absolutely no qualms about using this piece since it looked like it had seen better days already. Surprisingly, it was a nearly perfect fit. She’d heard her mother say once upon a time that her grandfather had been a pretty small man. The same must have been true for his father as well. Even in the stuffy room with a stuffy helmet on her head, Iori didn’t bother resisting the grin on her face. This felt good. A hundred enemies had fallen in front of this mask, and if she had anything to say about it, there’d be a thousand more. As the sun began setting, Sasuga woke from her afternoon nap to a thumping sound upstairs. Making her way to Iori’s room, the aging mother opened the door to nearly jump out of her skin. Iori had somehow managed to wheel the chest all the way across the courtyard and more amazingly, up the stairs, where she was currently nailing a hook for the kimono onto the wall…she was still wearing the kabuto.

“Uh…hi mom.”

[Punslinger]

Taijutsu Iori snorted, marching down the street. She’d planned to get some much needed taijutsu training in at the academy obstacle course. Sadly, her arrival had revealed a decidedly chaotic scene, where genin and academy students swarmed every inch of the facility, some training, and some simply doing their avid best to tear the place apart. Definitely not the place to get any work done. Heading back home, Iori remembered a stand of old pine trees where she’d played as a kid. To her recollection, they formed a rough circle, an excellent spot to train, more or less. Passing her house and following the street behind it, the road quickly began a steep ascent into a mountain pass, walled on either side by tall pines. A few hundred yards out of sight of her neighborhood, such as it was, (a few family homes separated into plots) a barely noticeable path veered off the main road deeper into the woods. Here, Iori had played hide and seek for hours with her brother. Having the better ninja training at the time, he had of course usually been the victor, but Iori had running list of foolproof hideouts that evened the score. Iori knew she’d reached her destination as the sun played gently on her face, dappled through the few branches that blocked the way. Channeling her chakra, a cloud of needles surrounded the girl, forming two dangerous looking gauntlets as she drew a baton from her pouch, pouring a token amount of chakra into it as well, causing the weapon to ratchet out to its full length. As she stretched, Iori idly spun the weapon through her hands, then off into the air, where it floated, spinning in the sunlight while she finished limbering up.

SpoilerShow

Yari Kougake [Spear Gauntlet]
By creating a magnetic field around one or both of her hands, Iori can cause her wires and needles to form into gauntlets which can be used to fend of physical attacks. Additionally, a small modification to the field causes the gauntlets to grow sharpened points, which can then be used to attack.
Chokkatsu [Direct Control]
Using this technique, a ninja will be able to magnetize and control a number of small objects, usually something small enough to fit in one’s hand. Control, however, does not mean force, since the objects being controlled don’t have the staying power to lift or penetrate much of anything. The number of objects controlled is determined by the ball of static electricity used to magnetize the objects for the technique.
1-4 Control: 1 square foot
5-7 Control: 5 square feet

It was one of the few things that she had been happy to take from her time in the academy. The days had all run in on each other, each one more boring than the next, but the day that a taijutsu expert had trotted out her class before an arsenal of weaponry still stood out vividly in her mind. She wasn’t particularly skilled with weapons, nor was she overly fond of carrying a massive cache of blades, but something about the simplicity of the baton had caught her eye. The man seemed to approve of her tasteful moderation, walking her over to a target practice area, laughing at her curious expression.

“See that point in the tip? That does more than just sit there, my dear.” He’d said, casually aiming it at the target at it extended, then launched the metal dart at the target with perfect functionality. Iori grinned.

Back in the present, the teen was finished stretching as she grabbed the baton and began making her way through her ‘tiptoes’, an affectionately disdainful name for the basic forms taught her by her mother. A onetime kunoichi who’d retired when she met Iori’s father, Sugasa was a dainty woman, something her limited taijutsu katas reflected. Iori was decidedly larger than her mother, and copying her styles made her feel awkward and clumsy, but they were all she knew and ostensibly, if she could master them, she’d have the agility inherent to a much smaller opponent, which could come in very handy. And if she could do them while weighted down with her needle gauntlets and a weapon, so much the better. Normally, the exercise would start with the basic forms and work up from there, but with a weapon in her hand, Iori had to start with the weapons kata, which had a few extra steps than the basics. Stepping out of the guard stance, Iori swung the baton with her left hand in a wide arc, pulling it back in and using the momentum to thrust at a nearby tree. Pulling back, the teen spun, hitting the same tree with a firm backhand, using the force from the blow to slide back, stooping low and swinging a leg at the next tree, which hurt her leg, but didn’t stop her. As her right gauntlet formed into a bladelike appendage, the girl slashed at the tree and, feeling the moment, flipped backwards into the middle of the clearing, breathing heavily. She’d forgotten how heavy a few extra pounds on her hands could be. Nevertheless, she charged yet another tree, this time simply slashing at it as many times as she quickly could, rolling off to the side before adopting the base stance, puffing. Removing a few errant pine needles from her hair, Iori looked around the clearing. No one was around; a perfect time to try something stupid. One of her mother’s favorite moves was a back flip, smooth and graceful. Sadly, Iori had always been a little lanky for the technique, but she’d seen larger boys do it by running up a wall, maybe trying the same thing on a tree would work. With a few gestures of her hand, the needles all tucked themselves away in their respective pockets, and the baton slid back down to a manageable size as she stuffed it back in her pouch, which she then took off. Facing a large tree, the teen took a few deep breaths and charged it, running several feet up the trunk before pushing off, trying to get her feet under her, which she did. Sadly, she wasn’t able to brace herself for the landing, and fell heavily on her rear after her feet touched. Luckily, the pine needles had fallen thick on the forest floor, and the only thing damaged was her pride. Still, the move couldn’t be all that difficult, could it? It was a controlled fall, after all. After thinking for a moment, the teen had an idea. Rather than running at the tree, she simply walked several yards up the side, went into a crouch, and leaped off, pulling her legs up under her and bracing for her weight perfectly, smiling as she did so. Still, it had taken her too long to reach her training spot, and the sun was starting to set. Resolving to come back again the next day rather than wasting time at the academy, Iori started home, hoping Sasuga had decided to make dinner.

[Punslinger]

Strength II Iori trudged up the path to the clearing, panting. On her shoulders was a wooden beam, roughly half a foot thick and five or so feet long. After her taijutsu session the day before, the teen had realized that she felt guilty about making wanton gashes in the side of old growth pine trees, even if no one but her really ever saw them. The path that led to the clearing was attached to an old road that led to several villages to the north of Kumo. Since the only people who used it were villagers coming into Kumo for supplies and the occasional chuunin on a mission to the north, the odds that someone was going to find, much less destroy what was soon to be her training grounds were minimal. That morning, Iori had drawn up some plans and taken them to the local supply store, where she’d placed an order. Rather than go blabbing her secret to anyone, the teen had simply had the building supplies delivered to the alley behind the family complex, someplace out of Sugasa’s sight, and as such, out of trouble. Even as helpful (and relatively cute) as the man at the store had been, Iori didn’t want to have some hired hand hauling everything up the steep path, especially since she was paying the bare minimum for this project. A genin’s salary was nothing to envy, and Iori didn’t want to have to deal with her mother over money, even if she had plenty. So for the last several hours, Iori had been hauling supplies up the hill, one wheelbarrow or armful at a time as the sun rode higher in the sky.
After almost three hours of hauling, Iori was ready for a break, which she readily took, leaning up against a large pine tree and surveying what she had to work with. A large pile of timber, excess amounts of rope and nails, the requisite tools (hammer, tape measure, etc.) and a premade dummy that the teen had picked up on a whim. By now, the sun had settled some behind the pines, giving at least some semblance of shade, allowing a cool Kumo breeze to settle over the area. Sighing, Iori stood, grabbing a post hole digger. Smiling, she lifted the heavy tool, stabbing it down into the pine floor. A few minutes of lifting and spreading later, and the beleaguered teen needed yet another break. Before she did, however, ‘Akuma’ was affixed on his post and the earth around it was tamped down flat. Pulling a tube of lipstick from her pouch, the teen drew a particularly goofy fanged face on the canvas head, smiling. After a short catnap under a nearby tree, Iori dug two similar holes, which were soon filled with more wooden beams, leveled, and another, long beam was placed on top before being fastened into place by several nails that were more like stakes than anything else. By now, the sun had started hanging low in the sky, and the teen’s hands were starting to shake from the exertion, not to mention the fact that she could feel several blisters trying to develop. In light of those facts, Iori happily headed home, even with an hour or two of daylight left.
Two days later, Iori walked back up the hill, bucket of water in hand. She’d gotten up the previous morning with all intentions of going back to work on her site, only to realize that she couldn’t pick up her toothbrush properly. Her morning rice was eaten straight from the bowl, since the chopsticks and even a spoon was found to be next to useless. Additionally, her back was somewhere between stiff and immovable, and her arms had trouble lifting the gallon of milk she’d tried to pull from the refrigerator. Frustrated, the teen had spent the rest of the day listening to records and composing poetry while looking out her bedroom window over the village, a secret that she was loathe to have anyone discover. The next morning, her hands were well guarded by cloth bandages; the blisters were quickly forming into calluses, but they were still tender. Luckily, she’d already done most of the hard work the day before. Of course, there were still two more holes to be dug, which Iori planned begrudgingly. Yet another, taller frame was to go perpendicularly over the one she’d built earlier. So, having made the proper measurements, another two holes were dug, this time, deeper than the originals, simply to keep the taller structure in place. After mixing a token amount of cement into the water and spending a few more minutes struggling to get the posts in place, Iori began pouring the cement in at the base. Picking up a circular saw blade from her pile of tools, the genin performed a few handseals, and the blade began whirring at a brisk pace, which she ran through the beam for the top of the frame with little difficulty.

SpoilerShow

Kodate
Creating a rotating magnetic field in front of them, users of this jutsu also rotate any metal objects within the field. This creates a fairly effective shield against most physical attacks, as well as most katon, raiton and fuuton jutsu of a similar rank. C-Rank or higher Katon jutsu will likely break this jutsu, and C-Rank raiton techniques are negated entirely.
Chokkatsu [Direct Control]
Prerequisite: Denjiki [Electromagnetism]
Using this technique, a ninja will be able to magnetize and control a number of small objects, usually something small enough to fit in one’s hand. Control, however, does not mean force, since the objects being controlled don’t have the staying power to lift or penetrate much of anything. The number of objects controlled is determined by the ball of static electricity used to magnetize the objects for the technique.
1-4 Control: 1 square foot
5-7 Control: 5 square feet
8-10 Control: 10 square feet
11-12 Control: 20 square feet

More handseals and a gesture, and the myriad of needles that Iori kept on her person impaled the ropes, wrapping them tightly around several trees, leaving the genin to simply tie them into place and rendering the trees safe from her during whatever training she’d be doing in the near future. By this time, several hours had crept by, and the bandages Iori had put on her hands were beginning to come unraveled. By standing up on the tips of her toes on the first frame, Iori was barely able to set the final wooden beam atop the last two posts, now set into place by the dried concrete. The beam was lashed into place by wire with a gesture, and Iori scrawled atop the structure to nail it together. Crawling down, she surveyed her handiwork. Not a bad day at all. Time for a shower and lunch.

[Punslinger]

Taijutsu II Iori trotted up the hill to her training grounds, testing the wraps on her hands with a businesslike smile. The last few days had been busy, what with chores, house cleaning, shopping for groceries, and a little shopping of her own after finishing a mission, so this day was the first that she’d get a chance to work out at her new equipment. Surprisingly, the teen actually passed a small group of villagers from the northing coming into Kumo for yearly supplies, and she happily nodded to them, watching for them to turn a bend out of sight before herself turning down the discreet path that led to her training site. After a few days to forget all the work she’d put into it, Iori looked on the project with pride; it really didn’t look bad at all. One would be hard pressed to tell that the work had been done by an inexperienced hand. Without waiting any longer, the genin pulled the bandages on her hands taunt before a short series of handeals. Iori was already in the air by the time the steel needles swarmed around her hands, forming deadly looking gloves.

SpoilerShow

Yari Kougake [Spear Gauntlet]
By creating a magnetic field around one or both of her hands, Iori can cause her wires and needles to form into gauntlets which can be used to fend of physical attacks. Additionally, a small modification to the field causes the gauntlets to grow sharpened points, which can then be used to attack.

Landing on the top of the low beam next to the punching dummy, Akuma, Iori performed a dainty sideways flip over his head, punching him viciously as she did so, and landing awkwardly, but landing nonetheless. Righting herself with a satisfied grunt the teen gracefully spun, throwing out her left leg in a kick to one of the pine trees wrapped with rope and ignoring the pain, which was quite the feat, pardon the pun. Pushing off from the tree with a slight grimace, she rolled under the low bar, grabbing on with iron gloved hands and pulling herself up on top into a crouch, launching herself at the high bar, which sat perpendicular to the low bar about ten feet off the ground. Again latching on and pulling herself up, the teen instead chose to simply hang by her legs for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the blood rushing to her head as she hung there for a moment, thinking about nothing in particular. However, a thought did cross her mind; she’d been so excited about using her new setup that she’d forgotten to warm up using her taijutsu forms. She'd been practicing them in the hallway of her empty wing at night, enjoying the company of the moths that flocked to her lamplight in the early hours of the morning, but she could only perform the basic footwork indoors, and needed an open space for some of the more dramatic techniques.

“Hup.” the girl dropped down onto the pine needle-strewn floor, again wobbling as she did, but without incident. Of course now her blood was racing, and she was forced to stand still for a moment, listening to her heart beat in her ears as she carefully brushed her dark hair out of her face, since a few strands had pulled loose from the ponytail she’d put it in. The sharp points of the needles dragged gently across her scalp, and she wondered just how dumb an idea it was to do something so frivolous. The issue was quickly forgotten however as the teen realized that her breathing had slowed, and the flush was dissipating from her cheeks. Moving into the crouch of the ready position, the young genin began slowly working through the first several steps of the routine, which was part of an open palm technique her mother had taught her. In real combat, her needled hands would augment the style’s effectiveness by adding a harsh gash to whatever part of the opponent made contact with her stance, but for now, the galvanized steel of the needles added a necessary weight to her arms, as well as glittering in the midday sunlight as a soft breeze whispered through the canopy above. Stepping slowly into another stance, this time a low leg sweep followed by an open handed uppercut, Iori became aware of a flock of rooks moving through the forest to her right, some cawing, some simply flapping toward their destination. Iori smiled, wondering just how peaceful it would be to live life as a bird. Even crows, obnoxious noisemakers that they were, seemed to her much less stressed and harangued by whatever their schedule demanded of them than she, moving from one place to the next thinking only of…whatever birds were inclined to think about. Food and sex, no doubt. Grinning at the thought, the teen felt a burst of youthful energy building inside her, the kind that inexplicably explodes to the surface when one tries to keep one’s composure for too long and no one else is around to laugh at whatever silly outburst results. In this particular case, the obnoxious display emerged in the form of a very elegant back flip back into the previous stance before the genin swooped forward into the stance she had just performed, which just happened to be a flurry of jabs, this time done at full speed, causing the needles to shimmer in the sunlight, which caught the attention of several rooks, who flapped over and landed in a tree above, cawing and flapping to get her attention. The flip had been perfect, the landing even more so, which pleased the teen, who'd always considered herself a little clumsy when compared to her mother, a tiny little kunoichi who prided herself on the graceful dance that was her taijutsu forms.

The needle gauntlets dissipated as Iori swept them from her hands with a gesture; many of them slid back into their place of origin as expected, but a select few wafted into the air almost of their own will, dancing in the air in front of the greedy birds, who inspected them for a few seconds before snagging them from the air and flying off, doubtless with the intent of using them to decorate their nests. Iori smiled, pulling a small snack of rice balls from her pouch. A girl could get used to this.

SpoilerShow

Chokkatsu [Direct Control]
Prerequisite: Denjiki [Electromagnetism]
Using this technique, a ninja will be able to magnetize and control a number of small objects, usually something small enough to fit in one’s hand. Control, however, does not mean force, since the objects being controlled don’t have the staying power to lift or penetrate much of anything. The number of objects controlled is determined by the ball of static electricity used to magnetize the objects for the technique.
1-4 Control: 1 square foot
5-7 Control: 5 square feet

[Punslinger]

Ninjutsu Training

Iori stood at the cliff on the beach, staring angrily back and forth from the iron rod in her hand to the stone wall in front of her. She’d been at the library all morning, poring over old techniques and styles, but none of them suited her fancy, and it had put the girl in a foul mood.

“If I can’t have something new, I’ll just make what I have better.” She’d growled as she stalked out of the village, heading north. Seeing a metal bar lying outside of a dumpster, she’d picked it up, enjoying the feel of the weight in her hands. Rather than throw her tantrum all over the training area she’d worked so hard to build and maintain, she headed to the cliffs that lined the road from Kumo to points north…what few points north there were, anyway. Once there, she gently set down her bag, took off her over-shirt, and proceeded to do her best impression of a hurricane on the stone wall with the metal bar, wrapping a length of wire around it, spinning it like a buzz saw, and whipping it wrathfully around, grunting with exertion as the air crackled with static.

After twenty minutes, her hands were beginning to run raw, and her wrath was spent. Lying down on the cool, weathered pebbles, the teen only got a few minutes’ respite when she heard the crunch of footsteps behind her. Naturally, she bounced almost instinctively into a defensive stance, cocking her head to the side as she recognized her brother.

“Ken-san? What’re you doing here?” she asked, a little worried. Her brother only showed up on special occasions and general disasters. Hopefully, this would be the exception.

“Ken-san” was by no means a happy figure. Born with the family bulk, he had the trim but dangerous look of someone who exercised religiously. He was dressed in a traveler’s drab, with tattered pant legs and a brown leather vest under his cloak. Looking casually at the fresh scars on the cliff face, he broke eye contact with Iori.

“Mom said you were probably out training. I just thought I’d head to the nearest place outside the village and see if I couldn’t pick up your scent. If you hadn’t worked up a sweat, I doubt I would’ve been able to catch it over the salt in the air.”

The girl sniffed, wrinkling her nose slightly at the smell of sweat. Her brother had always had excellent senses, but even her own untrained nose could pick her smell out from the saline breeze.

“Anyway, you’re doing it wrong.” he smirked. “Training is supposed to be done when you’re tired. You’re supposed to exhaust yourself, and see how far past it you can go. I know I’ve taught you at least that much.”

“I don’t recall mentioning that I was training in earnest.” Iori smiled curtly. There was an uneasy tension in the air, and she didn’t like it. Her intuition was proved right in the next instant, as Kenpachi picked up a handful of smooth stones, and his hand crackled with static energy.

"Maybe my mistake was in giving you a choice in the matter, then.” he smiled. In some people, the smile would be considered playful, but this particular expression still retained some of its owner’s ever-present brutality.

"Don’t you d-…eek!” Iori shrieked as the ground around her was peppered with small rocks that shattered into tiny shards that pricked her unprotected arms and face. Streaking across the open shale, Iori made hurried handseals as the needles in her purse flowed out and formed into a shield across her forearm, which just barely saved her from taking a chance pebble to her temple just before she dove behind a driftwood log.

“Nii-san, are you nu-aaaAAAH!” the teen was once again interrupted as a giant fireball consumed her cover, sending her skittering across the beach once again under a hailstorm of rocks and pebbles, which pinged off of her tiny shield and zipped past her head. Hidden behind yet another log, this one protected by a small pile of beach washed over it by the tide, Iori took a second to catch her breath.

Okay, Kenpachi knows that I’m no match for him. He’s just playing around at half speed, but his Katon is a direct counter to my style, which means he’s either trying to teach me something, or just being a jerk to make up for lost time.

Glancing out from behind her cover, she could see her brother casually scooping up a handful of stones, preparing for his next barrage. Almost imperceptibly, several more rocks zipped past her head. He’d noticed her peeking.

Taking a deep breath, the teen made a few hand signs, launching a small handful of needles across the beach at her brother. Even though she kept the attack low to the ground to reduce the visibility, it disappeared in a quick blast of fire from her brother’s hand. His laugh was more derisive than anything else, and it made the girl glower at him momentarily over the top of her log before being forced back down by a small hail of stones.

As she often did in socially awkward situations, the girl hunkered down and began digging frantically through her purse for inspiration. As usual, the first thing her hand went to were grenades, but this was her brother. Killing or maiming him would just be poor taste. Besides, his katon style might very well set off the charges before they got to him. Wire was out, since it was too slow, and her needles just didn’t have enough impact to force their way through his defense. Putting her assorted trinkets back, her hand brushed against the iron bar. It was heavy, and it wasn’t the type of weapon she typically used her style on.

Oh yeah. Advantage.

Dodging out from her cover, the genin sent another salvo in her brother’s direction, still holding the needle shield in his direction as he blew more fire and then answered her attack with a salvo of pebbles, which pinged off the metal angrily. Still dashing across the beach, she attacked again, and then once more. The success of her gambit depended solely on her older brother underestimating her, something he wasn’t naturally inclined to do. After all, even Iori had to admit that she was fairly smart for a genin, and right now her opponent was probably still concerning himself with some kind of counterattack.

By now, however, Iori was becoming keenly aware that her attacks were losing power. She’d been tired when she started, and she was gasping for breath as she ducked from cover to cover, trying to lure Kenpachi into a pattern. Thankfully, it only took five minutes or so before he’d fallen into a steady rhythm of pebbles and katon attacks to nullify her electromagnetism.

"Is this really all you’re going to do, Iori-chan?” his voice boomed across the beach. Iori’s mother had always said her son didn’t know how to talk quietly. ”Because if so, I’d like to get this little visit over with.”

”Who asked you to come in the first place?!” Iori yelled. It was a given that she wasn’t happy, but her brother always had a knack for getting on her nerves at the worst possible time. She’d had a fight with her mother just the night before, and was in no kind of mood to be taunted, teased or harassed by anyone, least of all her own brother.

Resolving to kick her big brother’s ass, if only to make herself feel better, Iori stepped out from her hiding spot, flinging two clouds of needles at her brother from two different directions. Before he could even laugh at the attempt, she spun on one foot, hurling the discus-like shield at him head on, keeping one hand behind her back. Sensing that his defense was broken, Kenpachi dodged, but made the mistake Iori had been waiting for when he jumped upwards instead of laterally. Pulling what looked like a lance made from needles from behind her back Iori launched her final attack at her brother, who quickly did a short series of handseals for the fireball technique he’d been using. Unfortunately, it only proved successful on the needles. And he took the blow from the iron bar that Iori had hidden inside the makeshift weapon full on in the chest and fell to the ground, stunned.

Iori walked over and stood above him, triumphant. "I won’t tell anyone you lost to a genin if you don’t.”

In the next instant, she was upside down, being held up by her ankle. Kenpachi was smiling again, his fierce sadist’s grin replaced by a softer expression "Okay, I admit it. You did good. But don’t get cocky.”


Later that evening, the two sat around a campfire on the beach, eating roasted fish and honeyed buns that Kenpachi had picked up from some small-time bakery within the village.

"So what made you come out to visit, anyway?” Iori asked. It wasn’t like her brother to show up unannounced. At least not for ambiguous reasons.

"Well, I may or may not be under investigation for an incident on one of my missions…” the lanky shinobi began.

"Oh, you didn’t…” Iori breathed. In the back of her mind, she always knew he’d kill someone he wasn’t supposed to one day.Her brother laughed at her expression, throwing a bun at her.

"No, I didn’t kill anyone. At least no one I wasn’t supposed to anyway. One of my targets got away by some miracle, and there’s apparently someone who thinks I let him go on purpose. It’s not something to worry about, and besides, look what my reward is: a week or two off to spend with my widdle sister.” he reached over to pinch her cheek and was met with a needle in his hand, which caused him to wince in pain.

"THAT is for being such a jerk earlier. You really should be more gentle around girls, you know.” she huffed, biting eagerly into a fish.

"I’ll let you know when I see one.” her brother laughed as several needles hovered dangerously in the air above his sister, who didn’t bother to look up from her meal. He smiled nostalgically.

"You know, it’s been too long since we’ve had a chance to hang out like this.”

"Yeah.”