Any skilled killer can smell fear.

From the twitch of a finger to the steadiness in one's eyes. Within seconds, they study their prey for signs of weakness. Some say the first strike defines the warrior, but others argue it's their unyielding patience. However, whether or not the true definition of skill comes with the first move or second the duel brings out the inner demons. 

Through the sound of the bustling life of the villagers, a dangerous battle threatened to stir. Tension rose little by little like tether on the brink of snapping. Four figures stood motionless under the burning sun, two of whom had their blades drawn. The other two exhibited more patience by not unsheathing their blades yet. They waited for ninja and samurai to charge, but the same thought came in the couple's mind.

Villagers gathered to see what the fuss was about, but what they saw the glint of blades it was more than enough to scare them off. People gasped at the potential bloodshed, they knew violence was unpredictable. They could be injured just by being close, but the worse part might come if they get used as shields and die as collateral damage. Ruthlessness comes naturally to beasts who wield blades.

Pulse quickened inside of Yoshie, feeling her heart pound a little faster by the minute. They came with bloodthirsty eyes yet they don't draw their blades. Perhaps they want something else? But what could they possibly want if their intent is as clear as burning incense in a vast temple?

"Yoshie Masashi of the White Dragon, under the orders of the Imperial Emperor, we have come to bring you back to judge you for your crimes against the Land of the Rising Sun." The spear wielder spoke with a dark tone. His angular face was hard, his eyes without mercy. He grabbed the scabbard of his spear and dropped it on the ground. The blade was the color of wisteria flowers, the color of royalty. This was to signify the authority entrusted to them.

In any empire, the emperor may be seen as kind and benevolent, but a few know about the blood that forged his path. His crown is made with the bones of his enemies. The emperor has one hand in the light where all the public could see, while the other behind him are strings that hold his slaves. He does not fight for his crown, because as long as he knows he has his chess pieces set--his shadows as his hands, his crown is good as secured.

Them being here meant Yoshie was in deeper trouble than she assumed she was. But that in itself was puzzling to her. To think that the emperor would go this far to take her into custody. 

"Why would the emperor send two of his Shadows to come after me?" Yoshie demanded, pointing her blade at the men.

"Reports indicated that you've single-handedly wiped out your entire village. That crime is enough to turn you into a wanted criminal," the spear wielder responded solemnly.

Yoshie frowned.

"So I've become a wanted criminal?" Her words came out with pain seeping through her voice.

Obito who stood beside her could only glare in silence, the urge to cut down the assassins burning strong. The pain he could see in her eyes stabbed him twice through the chest knowing he couldn't do anything for her at the moment. Through all the weeks the man has known the woman samurai, if there's one thing he knew confidently about her is that she sacrificed too much to heal in a few years' time.

To call her a criminal was the cruelest label they can do, but--

"I'm not surprised. It's the least I deserve for what I've done," Yoshie replied calmly, flexing the trenchant blade she firmly in her hands. "But I deserve worse than being called a criminal."

"I see that you admit to your atrocities." The spear wielder's voice was solemn and somehow it sounded remorseful as well.

"I only did what was necessary."

As soon as the village police came, the other man finally unsheathed his blades--a pair of ax blades. The man was grinning from ear to ear with the other men gathering, very different from the spear wielder.

"What is mine to take, Shin?" An eerie voice echoed from the ax blade wielder.

"Everything, except for the samurai and the ninja."

"Whose blood do I spill?"

"All who stand here."

Within that instant, a sickening pit dropped in Yoshie's stomach. She had to end him right where he stood--his bloodlust didn't go undetected. The hostile intent was as clear as the color of red on white cloth. So Yoshie charged in the speed of lightning, her feet as nimble as those of a fox. Both blades swung like black and white blurs in the air, swinging in speed. Even the air could leave wounds upon the body if close by, and her new adversaries knew that.

One warrior leaped to one direction while the other went on a frenzy and tore through the stunned men. The ones who died instantly were lucky, while the less fortunate ones were screaming at the sight of their missing limb or fallen bowels. Red painted the ground, mixed with long slippery coils of a man's insides. Men lost their footing as soon as fear grabbed them by the throat before shoving them against the corpses of their comrades. It was a massacre done in seconds.

The soldiers were not enough for the man's thirst. Civilians who were unfortunate to be there became the man's next target. When he turned to face them all covered in their protectors' blood, they didn't hesitate to run away. However,  a child nearby froze in fear, his pants wet with all of his will. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the man sauntered over him, ready to strike the kid down.

But a stronger, fiercer aura hovered over his back with horrifying murderous intent. He licked his lips and effortlessly halted the blades aimed for his neck. The man didn't even turn around--he only threw back his blades behind him.

"You're filth," Yoshie snarled and shoved the little boy aside. "So the emperor controls sick people like you now? You dare target a child!"

The man cackle. "We're not too different, Masashi-san. After all, you ruthlessly killed your own fellow villagers from what I've heard."

Yoshie doesn't respond, knowing all two well talking is just another form of distraction.  If there is one thing she knew: heartless enemies like him like to poke at their target's weaknesses: their past. And it seemed like this man planned on using that to his advantage when they face-off. But even if Yoshie fought not to show her distaste, her face twitched at the reminder of her endlesschasm of sins and bones. She could feel their screams echoing into her ears. The look of horror in their faces as they were transforming--the glint of her blade was the last thing they see--

"I heard you killed your father as well! Was that for the execution of your no-name husband?" The dual-blade wielder screamed at her.

—Unless their eyes meet hers. 

Yoshie knew she was beloved. Every time she went to the village and roamed around, they would always call her name: "Yoshie-sama, Yoshie-sama!" If people assumed she felt different cutting men, women, and children down, they were dead wrong. Aching pain tore the woman apart each time she saw their faces. But there was nothing she could have done about it. Letting them go meant letting them turn into the monsters with impossible appetite. Even when dishonored—the daughter of the samurai lord couldn't let that happen.

Her father--he was a great man.

What did his smile look like?

"Yoshie! Have you practiced your shamisen already?" Her father's as soft as rumbling thunder called her name. "You can't be training with the sword all day!"

A lump rose to her throat, stealing the woman's voice. There was a deafening continuous ringing echoing in her ears, intensifying little by little until her disposition began to change into what one can call only as fear. It was creeping into her again--that fear she felt before.

"But Father, I need to become strong! Strong that I can beat a thousand men! I won't let anyone beat me!"

With a strong kick, Yoshie took a long leap back to recollect herself. Her hands were unusually clammy, and they were uncomfortable holding her blades. If she had a choice, she'd wipe them clean. But with the man so eager to fight her, that would be suicidal. Instead, Yoshie adjusted her hold, flipping the blade into its backside. Everything became a blur as she charged, letting her body flow through instinct and calculation combined.

The woman was light on her feet, careful not to stomp on the corpses laid at her feet. She floated in the air while hurling attacks the wind carried. Even without touching the houses, sharp slashes were left behind the strange blade wielder who evaded them with ease. Unlike her, he was quick to disregard the dead. He used their blood to distract the samurai, painting her red little by little. Like a maniac, his voice was contorted into laughter.

He was somewhat faster and more agile. Albeit Yoshie still managed to avoid lethal strikes, her skin was opened with clean cuts in several places. Her garments were slowly ripping apart with each attack, revealing her small but many wounds. Blood oozed out of them--soon streams of red dripped down to her hands. Holding her katanas became a challenge as her fight with the man continued.

But that wasn't the only problem. The longer the spar progressed, the several more times her blade clashed with the man's ax blades, the more tired she became. Time seemed to steal her strength by the moment, sucking it out of her towards her own inevitable impending doom. Yoshie cursed; remembering that she couldn't die just yet. This was not the time nor the place where she falls.

For Yoshie, the reason why her heart pounded so wildly wasn't that she faced a horrible sadistic opponent. She would recklessly steal glances at the black-haired shinobi. But she'd wake up and face her opponent once again. Even if she denies it constantly in every waking minute, while she breathed her reason for living had begun to change. Since the day her lips pressed Obito's, feeling his gentle kiss against her neck--her eyes lingered along his back--thus she made sure she was ahead of him. At least, he couldn't suspect her longing for him.

Obito fought fiercely against the spear wielder. He felt the weight of the iron bar pummel against him, like a man against a boar. Before he gets hurled aside, his feet plant themselves on the bar and the man spun backward, landing on his feet like a cat. As a jonin, a high ranked ninja, Obito had hidden blades underneath his coat, treating them like his secret cards that amounted to millions. His black eyes glowed a deadly red, forming three tomoes in them. 

He was fighting his opponent while keeping in mind his surroundings. Because of the tight spaces the town had, even if Obito wanted to perform jutsus with fire elements it could result in the arson of the village. Talk about bad time and place to face skilled opponents. The shinobi could only jab whatever blade he had underneath his coat. Lines of red were etched along the back and chest of the spear wielder, but his opponent still held his head high. The spear in his hand blocked mortal strikes and shielded the user from getting pinned with kunais. Frustration seeped out of his cool gaze, it clawed out of his heart whenever Obito's opponent refused to give in.

If only they were out of the village.

The man stole a glance at Yoshie, hoping to signal her. Getting out of the village would be the only way to free Yoshie and Obito from the shackles of concern. But their eyes couldn't meet at all, and every time he opened his mouth to call her name the spear wielder knocked him away from that chance as if saying "you're staying here with me."

"You bastards," Obito snarled under his breath.

"I apologize if we disregard the villagers here," the man's rumbling deep voice read Obito's mind. "But sometimes you need to throw aside your emotions if you want to live while succeeding in your mission. I'm sure you understand that notion."

Obito cursed.

He knew the spear wielder was right, but to use the villagers as shackles were beyond just dirty. There were no simple words for it--this whole scheme was despicable. Regardless of the spear wielder's words, Obito took the chance to look back at the woman bearing her katanas--

She was barely standing.

"Feeling tired, samurai?" The man mused mockingly as he hovered over Yoshie.

Beads of sweat dripped down from her chin, blinding her one eye. The woman didn't even have the strength to wipe her face. Her swear mixed with the blood on her skin and her open wounds stung like hell--it was a burning sensation she endured. Her slender shoulders ebbed up and down quickly as the samurai fought to get back her breath, unusual after a short fight. Usually, even long hours wouldn't be a toll on her, so why?

Evil cackles screeched over her, feeling the man's hot breath against her ear. He wasn't heaving at all. "Liked your tea, princess?"

Eyes widened in shock like the woman took a punch in the gut. Staring at her own feet, Yoshie realized how dizzy she was when there was a multiple of them. Even the red-stained dirt seemed blurry. The wind turned icy cold, causing Yoshie to shiver under the burning heat of the sun. Her limbs, she realized, had grown numb. Control over them was lost as her fingers unconsciously opened and dropped her weapons.

Fear enshrouded her when the man took a step back, swinging his blade. 

"Father!"

For Obito, everything became a haze. His heart rose up to his throat, his voice screaming her name. He abandoned his fight with the spear wielder; the only thoughts that drove him was that of Yoshie. Her fiery orange pupils staring into his onyx ones, as if she peered into his soul. Her lips grazed so gently against his skin, the softness that left him tingly and hot. The slender frame that hid under her ever white garments, and he got to see the woman's silhouette up there at the cave.

Blood was seeping through her fingers, dripping down with an ominous color. It quickly turned her clothes into the same color, its spread was fast. Yoshie spat more of the red liquid from her mouth and it kept dripping down from her lips. For a brief moment, her eyes caught Obito's. Her eyes apologized instead of her voice. Bravely, the samurai stood until all her strength left and she crumpled to the ground. 

"Could you teach me how?"

"Yoshie!"

~~~

Number of words: 2652

I'm having a test tomorrow but I couldn't stand not updating I couldn't concentrate at all >n< so heeeeere!!

Dedicated to inky_ebony whose name I noticed often in my notifs recently--she's been reading my stuff ;; 

I meant to finish writing earlier on, but personal drama happened, so. . but I'm feeling better :))

I wanna know what you guys think of this so far! After a long pondering, I realized that the story will extend another act (Act 2 will end around Chapter 38-Chapter 42, so it won't be too long). Act 3 will be the last act and will probably be a lot shorter (not sure yet about the length tbh).

I also wanna be more interactive with you guys aside from making sure to dedicate a chapter to someone--because without you I won't feel so motivated:

1) What do you think so far about Obito and Yoshie's relationship? This act, pertaining to them, will shed more light on Obito now. As you've noticed, there was barely any info said about him in the previous act.

2) Who do you think is captured with Sakura?

3) Who's your favorite Naruto Shippuden character and why?

Love you all, and I hope you'll all be reading this til the end! I'm still trying to figure things out on how I'll be able to update on a weekly basis. I kept trying before and failed, but I'll try again for you all <3

- Raita