Date: October 30, 2010
Shemri and Meruin face off in their first match of the tournament.
"First World Ninja Competition - Webs of Weariness: Shemri vs. Meruin"
Kusagakure — World Ninja Competition Arena 3
Fireworks and applauds would signal the next match of the tournament. Arena three would be half full with spectators from all around. Men woman and children sit in their seats eager for the next match. Roars of the crowd from the other two arenas could be held leaving those here ready to join in. "Let this match begin!" would be heard, as a swirl of green leaves signals the arrival of a Konoha shinobi. The hyuuga malke would be garbed in green and black battle armor. Shorts and a open chest vest complete with a one foot shoulder cloak. The hyuugas ebony hair would be tied off and slicked back. Here stood Hiroshi hyuuga senior chuunin would be todays proctor.
Hiroshi would clear his throat opening his pale opal eyes as he raises his voice, "Greetings Spectators, the next match will now begin. From the rist, Reigning from the land of water, we have young Okumo, Meruin!" he would say, casting his right arm out, giving Meruin a chance to make his appearance, and salutations before he announces the second contender. "Now, from my left, a challenger from the Land of Wind, Maneshi, Shemri!" he would exclaim. Giving her a chance to make her appearance as well. Hiroshi would be in the center of the area waiting both to move into position before continueing.
After hearing his name announced, Meruin stood wordlessly, the small child silently padding from the waiting rooms, passing through it's door to meet the glare of sunlight and the roar of the crowd that was such an assault to his tender senses. He seemed to move through a world where there was only himself, his face placid, gaze detached, walking to his designated area. Smooth gaited and soft stepped, he stopped. And he waited.
This event has been like a dream come true for Shemri. She's always wanted to prove the worth of her mother's clan; what better way than a tournament for all of the world's ninja? >D And as a bonus, it's taking place in the Land of Grass. That means being able to visit Shemri's parents, who up until now had only heard about little Megumi-chan in letters. n.n The meeting was a little awkward and shy at first, but soon enough Megumi-chan was revelling in the advantages of a pair of doting grandparents. It's been a whirlwind of catching up and celebrating and just plain enjoyment since they arrived, and it almost seems too soon that the actual occasion of the tournament has arrived. Shemri's still plenty enthused to step out here into the arena, though. Up in the stands, Shemri is cheered on by her parents, her daughter, and her husband Fukanzen. There was a little concern about letting Megumi-chan come, but she seems to understand that the fight is going to be "play-pretend" of a sort.
Entering the ring with Shiikaa padding at her heels, Shemri takes a look around. A fairly open field, a few rocks and trees here and there, but no great opportunities for subtlety. Suppose it wouldn't make much of a spectacle if there was. There's the referee—nod of respect, though Shemri can't help staring at those weird eyes for a moment. And her opponent…wait, is that a kid? o.O Shemri knows perfectly well that ninja tend to enter genin rank young, but this one looks barely out of the academy. Should he really be participating in this sort of tournament? c.c Well, he must've gotten past the approval process /some/how. Shemri manages a slight bow. "…Greetings…er…let us do our best, shall we?" n.n; Shiikaa, meanwhile, starts to build up his chakra in preparation. He knows a predator when he sees one, human or otherwise. ^e.e^
Hiroshi would peer at the young boy, then, at the young woman as well. Chuckling lightly, Hiroshi would smile at both contestants, "I know this goes without saying but, any personal feelings towards another village best be left outside of the ring. Give it all you got, but consider the fact you are in a tournament not a war. But, I would guess this goes without saying." he would say turning to the kunoichi, nodding lightly. Turning his back on the contestands Hiroshi would slowly step from the area between hands slipping into his pockets as he turns around to face the contestants once more. "Good luck to both of you." Hiroshi would scream out, bringing his right hand high, with a snap of his right fingers "BEGIN!" he would shout. Crowds roaring at the siginal of the match, men woman and children all on the edge of their seats readying for the battle to begin. Hiroshi himself, taking this final moment to flicker from sight, appearing a distance from the two, as to not get in the way(hopefully)
Meruin inclined his head towards Shemri, voice showing his age, high-pitched and pure as a bell. "Yes," he said simply. "Good fortunes." And with that, he fell silent, listening to Hiroshi. The proctor got a nod that managed to show a measure of respect, despite his gaze never having left his opponent.
At the shout to begin, the Okumo shifted, moving into a stance that was more comfortable, putting more pressure on one foot then the other, leaning slightly. Then he fell motionless, the preternatural stillness of a spider, as though time had simply stopped around him, even his long, tumbling platinum locks unaffected by breeze.
So the tournament presses on. One of the genin bracket matches has presented itself, this time having an much more odd pairing then what had been seen lastly. Imota had only planned for a blind study of his own abilities, via moving performing in matches where his outcome would not be predicated upon information he had gathered. That often mean the Sasaki ninja would go in, only prepared like he would for any mission he had been attending of. But for some reason, Okumo Meruin, as he would find was this small Kiri nin's name, had been intriging.
The boy's physical body, had been an oddity, if one were to expect alot closer, and thus one thing was determined. Meruin, needed to be studied. Every thing would be analyzed, from the lithe and rather light stepping entrance of the Kiri ninja, to entrance of his own comrade, and her familiar. Shemri, had been observed by Imota only once. Back then, in a spar with Hayato Sora, her capabilities did not prove to be much advancing. To say the least, it had seemed she had been overwhelmed by the Chuunin. But even that scenario, had been dated almost several months ago, predating all of the events for which Suna had been involved. The woman was much more mature than he, so perhaps her experience, and rank, would not match.
The note to began, was shouted by the pale eyed proctor, and with that, Imota, had been taking out his own pen and paper, for recording purposes. He would transcribe this match as it went forward noting every tactic and observation.
Shemri darts forward on the signal, running to close the distance. Her eyes narrow, watching to see what sort of nefarious attack her opponent will launch…as she runs…any second now…what's this kid doing?!? c.C Is he just going to stand there the whole match? Well, his loss. :P Shemri reaches Meruin and cuts loose with a barrage of punches and kicks. Shiikaa hangs back a little, observing. ^o.o^ There's gotta be some reason for the kid's odd behavior, and it's probably not just a bluff for time…
The small boy abruptly jerks backwards, rolling with Shemri's initial punch, lessening the damage of it. He leans to the side, avoiding a secondary kick. The third hits him squarely in the shoulder and he spins, light hair whipping around. He stood there, still, simply watching, observing eyes calm.
Rise was bored. Extreeeeeeemly bored. So bored and tired of waiting around for her opponets or at least the organizers to call her up that she literally punched a hole in hotel(?) wall, and calling out to her watcher that she would be taking a walk.
Either by instinct or by the threads of fate puppeting her unmolested through Kusagakure, Rise eventually arrives at one of the stands of an arena with a fight already in progress. Later on if she ever bothered to think about deeply enough the fact that she arrived when another was just pretty much starting. The young kumoian would immediatly chuck up to the former of the two afformentioned options. However, that is not until muuuuch later!
Meanwhile back in the present Rise took a deep breath, cupped her hands around her mouth, and called out, "GOOOOO LIIIITLE GUUUY!! TEACH THAT OLD HAG SOME REAL MOVES!!!" Good 'ol kindred spirit in action…sorta.
Shemri frowns. "Hoi, did you enter only to jump around? You cannot win if you do not attack!" Shemri swings her arm to slap Meruin in the face, as though he needed waking up, and follows up with a palm-heel thrust to his chest and a sweep of his legs. "Do not make my first match a joke!"
Looking on to this, Imota was writing without even seeming to look toward his own notebook. To take his eyes off the match even at this early point, would be equated with a lost in tons of data. Imota would look to Meruin, wondering just what he was doing. He had possessed a look of stoic, almost numbing calm, one that had been similar, if not, surpassing of his own. This had kept Imota left ask himself. Just what had Meruin been planning? Or, had he merely been observing for a weakness? The attacks from the mother ninja would start. Two of the of the three strikes hit, and yet Meruin, still seems particular unphased. Imota would replay the moves in his head.
They were defenses using his own physical movement, and nothing else, and worst enough, they had been movements mostly using very little range and very little effort. Something was up.. Had this boy been taking the match seriously? Had he wanted the woman to hit him? Imota would pause a moment, and think. What was this eagerness he had felt? Why had his blood pressure gone up by ten beats? Had this been, what was called, excitement? Imota would take time to calm, before his head would turn quickly left in right. Some of the people around him, had been exhibiting, on greater levels, what he had felt just now. Thrill, excitement, surprise. This had indeed been his first observation of anything sports like in an arena setting, so this present all sorts of data to be studied later.
Meruin leaned backwards, eyes caught on Shemri as she reached to slap the boy, her fingers passing out of reach of him. He moved to the side, the woman's palm-heel thrust heading towards his shoulder, and he began to turn away from it. It moved too swiftly, however, and it caught him, putting him off balance so that her final attack took his legs out from under him, and he began to fall.
Suddenly, the Okumo's form was covered in a platinum sheen of silken fur, and from his shoulder blades sprouted thick spider legs made of the same, longer than he was tall and broader than he about the shoulders. They pushed him upwards so that he never hit the ground and lifted him away from it. He made a feint her in direction, an extra pair of misted eyes finding Shemri, his distended mouth showing the evidence of fangs, both high and low.
Webbing, moist with a caustic poison, lashed out at Shemri, extending from the boy's chest and his two foremost spider legs.
Whoa! o.O; Mystery-boy just went all leg-y and fang-y! Shemri throws herself sideways from her crouched sweeping position, tumbling this way and that along the ground to avoid the webbing. After evading the immediate assault, Shemri takes a moment to collect her thoughts and absorb the shock. She gives a slight huff and a smile. "Ah. Aha. It seems you are ready to take this seriously now." >) Shemri charges back in, throwing her full weight into a driving punch and a knee to Meruin's midriff.
Abrupt jerks drag Meruin's hanging form to the side of Shemri's punch and away from her knee, ease in his motions. He left Shemri's comment without an answer, instead, pressing an attack. Suddenly, another pair of arms sprouted below his original two and his spider legs thrust him forward in an intense flurry of blows.
His arms, near-dripping with poison, were little but a blur as they struck out at her, some sixty blows coming in a single second. The speed of those attacks threw the poisoned webbing at twenty-six year old.
Rise practically swallows her tongue completely with how fast she closed her mouth and sucked in her breath to silence anymore words from distracting the very person she was rooting for. Although, as things progressed her mind was begin to wander down a path filled with unexpected questions. The lines between reality and dreams begin to blur; slowly but inevitably until all the Shirokiri can see before her is a mist so thick that even the ground below her was obscured. 'Can you hear it Rise?..can you hear that beat beneath the surface? The beat that all of us must follow?' A soft, warm, and familiar voice echoes from everywhere with no origin. Before her head could swivel around useless to try and find out who, what or even where the voice came from the world of mist blurs back into reality…
The back pavement of the steps are the first to swim back into view. "Wha…*pant*…what the heck was…ohno…*hurk!*" Yeeeeaaaah, a clean up crew is gonna be needed pretty soon. c_c
Whoops…looks like taking such an offensive tack was a bit of a mistake. x.x; This kid /is/ capable of a good attack. The claws scrape over Shemri's arms, leaving a stinging sensation. She does have enough presence of mind to avoid the webbing with a backspring, though. Shemri lands and rubs her arms, smirking at her opponent. "That is more like it." Shemri glances aside at her cat. "Shiikaa, stay out for a bit longer. I wish to see what this boy is truly capable of." Shiikaa carefully lowers himself onto his haunches, still watching the match carefully. Shemri comes at Meruin again with a little more indirection, dodging sideways before leaping up and aiming a roundhouse kick at his head. She then shoots her other leg at his side and hurls a shuriken as she lands.
Again, with a spider's swiftness, Meruin avoids all blows sent towards him, the small suspended body nearly vanishing as he avoided all. He dipped lower, closer to the ground, waiting for the roundhouse kick to sail over his head. When it did, he moved to the side to avoid the secondary kick, this one moving close to his side. The shuriken was avoided with much of the same, a simple shifting of his wide stance.
"I apologize…" said the small boy, as the four giant spider legs were suddenly covered in a thick carapace, a spider black chitin dark as the raven's dreams, seeming to absorb light rather than reflect it. The boy's form faded from view, like sands taking to the wind…
There would be a flash of movement on Shemri's side, too quick to register with more than just reflex. Using that as a distractive feint, he appeared on her other side, one of his spider legs raised, already crashing down on her shoulder. Even as that occurred, he was leaning towards her and his regular arms, just two, flashed out in a barrage of strikes so swift it blew his long hair behind him so that it fluttered, as though in distress. His talons reaching, the silk along his arms against lashed out at her, attempting to strike and ensare, though only enough to promote further damage being done.
Shemri blinks. More creepiness, fun. o.O; She's absorbed enough in the new transformation to react on pure instinct to the blur to her side, dodging in the wrong direction and—*WHACK* Ow. >.<; Shemri dives forward and rolls, avoiding the webbing attack. Shemri turns and draws a pair of kunai. "I apologize as well…" Shemri drops the kunai. The ends of her sash, hanging limply behind her as cloth typically does up until now, ripple to life and catch the dropped knives. Shemri draws two more kunai. "…but I shall be fighting to win from here on." Shemri lunges at Meruin and jabs furiously with all four kunai. Ironic, the similarities in their fighting styles, though they have two very different means of accomplishing it. Shemri follows up with a strong kick to Meruin's jaw.
Swift darts get Meruin away from Shemri's every strike of the kunai, spider's legs scuttling, child's body weaving, keeping him from all harm. Calmly, he spoke, as he did so. "Affirmative. I—" He was cut off as he took Shemri's sudden kick to the jaw squarely, despite his attempts at evasion, and he reeled backwards, a grunt coming from him.
Immediately, he went forward, attempting to press and stress the woman. His arms whipped out, sending a rope poisonous silk lashing at her from both arms and the webbing over his chest bursts, sprouting forward to throw a trio of shuriken at her. The boy then put on a burst of speed and went in once more with a barrage of poison-taloned strikes, aiming for any cut, anywhere.
Shemri hops back to avoid the silken threads, but they extend further than she expected, brushing her with their burning touch. >.<; She's going to have to put more effort into defen—WHOA! o.O; As the shuriken whiz forth, a stiff breeze suddenly swirls around Shemri, sweeping the projectiles aside. Without questioning the occurance, Shemri pulls a backwards somersault, avoiding the last attack from Meruin by the barest of margins. Shiikaa, who had slipped in by Shemri's feet to create the protective vortex, next unleashes a thunderous roar up at Meruin. Shemri jumps back in to take advantage of Shiikaa's assistance with a haymaker punch. Then Shiikaa pounces at Meruin's ankle for a bite, while Shemri goes for a quick underhand jab at his stomach.
An impulse of sound, surprisingly large from a creature so small, roared through the air as it came towards Meruin. The mutated boy vanished and came into being closer towards the two. The spider legs turn inwards, lowering him so that the haymaker flies high, tearing through his floating hair. Ignoring that, he straightened the spider legs, pushing him high and back, bringing his body out of range of both of his opponents.
The motion was a fluid one, circular, so that after the danger was averted, he was brought down and around, right back at the two. He continued his previous straightforward tactic, simply striking at them. Swift, uncountable strikes, blending with the lashing of his poisonous whips.
Arrrrgh. >.<; Shemri can't seem to get away from those things quickly enough, and Shiikaa's wind can't keep them totally at bay—they're aleady whipping around so much. :P Shemri backs away from Meruin, wondering why she can't seem to move as efficiently as she had been at the start…and suddenly she realizes that she's /tired/. Not the sort of burning, muscle-shaking tiredness she gets from a really hard workout, but a sort of numbness. Oh…of course, that stuff /would/ inflict a slow paralysis on top of how /painful/ it already is. >P
Shemri glances down. "Shiikaa…" Shiikaa crouches. All up to him now, huh? Shiikaa opens his mouth, and a small ball of compressed air shoots out at Meruin. He springs from side to side, firing off the attack again and again in rapid succession.
Meruin's scuttling spider legs suddenly took him away from Shemri, taking him in a haphazard pattern across a small space of the arena, speeding around the air projectiles thrown at him from the cat. He raises a hand and the silk around his arm parts, revealing a duo of shuriken and they slide in his hand. He tosses them, letting them streak towards Shiikaa to busy and, perhaps, incapacitate her. As they flew, his hands came together in a blaze of seals, the motions liquid, one seal nearly blending into the next in his finger's sinuous movements.
Abruptly, the air around Shemri would circle around the woman, a sharp edge apparent from the thin line of blurred motion circling her. The small boy pauses a moment, face as it was the moment he stepped through the doors into the arena. Then he forms a snake seal, and the circle closes on her.
Shiikaa moves nimbly to avoid the shuriken, but Shemri doesn't have such luck with the wind attack. How do you dodge something that's all around you? c.c; After feeling the sting of this last attack, Shemri decides enough is enough. "Hoi, I forfeit! He can have the match!" Shemri sighs and gives Meruin a tired stare. "You are a very tricky one. I hope we never meet under less friendly circumstances." e.e With that, Shemri limps off the field, hoping the medics have something for this condition she finds herself under.
The spider legs on Meruin's back crumbled, spider's chitin collapsing, the silk detaching from his body, falling from him in a torrent. It dissolved, corroding in it's own acids. He stood before the crowd, once more nothing but an eight year old, watching his opponent retreat. He bows to the proctor, then to the crowd, and turned on his heel, smooth gait taking him away from the place. Under his breath, words floated on a whisper: