Fighting Wall Fart Continuation

Link to previous Time - https://gladiusrp.forumotion.com/t3594-fighting-street-art-mission

Exp earned so far (mission)-
Astaroth - 7 × 20 = 140
Fushi - 6 × 20 = 120

Fushi continues the topic -

Fushidarana was not extremely smart but she was slightly perceptive and she knew that she had fumbled her first impression and internally raged about it. She knew this would cause a negative spiral and would have to be stopped but the Usumaki lacked the tools to inherently know how and now had to try and solve this problem for the first time. The Earth Style user did not know why she cared so much but she did, there was something about the boy aside from petty attraction. For now however opening up to another human being would have to be shelved whilst she scoured her skull for the skill to circumnavigate this situation successfully.

The way he had to scurry to keep pace helped soothe her petty emotions, it was a form of holding power and a dumb one at that. It had not been done intentionally but when noticed Fushidarana did not slow her pace, instead swallowing a smile before it surfaced to her face. Besides they needed to get the casing done quickly, though the Uzumaki thought her mission partner paranoid for thinking it was needed. After all surely these charlatans would conquer more than simple surfaces with scratchings and paint, no, in the mind of this genin it would he some bored teenagers and one would try to fight while the rest pissed their pants. This was the way of the world on the average day after all

With a sudden burst of insight the idea incorporated itself into the idiots intellect and Fushidarana would see her way to stop thos bad impression. 'A brick head farm boy?' Well I can try fixing that the Uzumaki female thought to herself steeling herself for what she was about to do for the very first time ever in her life. Hopefully it would work out for her, only time would tell;

Abruptly turning to face the much shorter man the long limbed woman would prostrate herself getting mud onto her clothes. That part she did not mind as much as staring at the damn stuff with her head down.

"I do not know exactly how elevating you above others has cause you grief but I must apologize for it was never my intent" her words were soft spoken but they were loud enough for Nagato to be able to hear and thus respond to. The Uzumaki braced her body for what would no doubt come next, while she herself never would, the genin knew how her parents treated those who prostrated themselves in penance before them. It would be harsh and she would probably need ijutsu performed on her after but it would be worth it if she could stop the boy's menstrual cycle of a reaction. If only she had known it was his time of the month, she should have known, should have learned from how her brothers got emotional and thin skinned during certain periods of time that this would happen and now she would make sure to keep that in mind for dealing with the man currently above her.

"Forgive me Nagato, just avoid the face if you will....please?" The Bukijutsu weilder knew she was asking for a lot but the last time her father had kicked her in the face it left a scar, the Uzumaki already had to use too much foundation as it was to cover up one, let alone two.

Surprises were both few and far between for a ninja, and waiting around every corner. It was with an odd sense of shock that Fushi completely flipped the conversation.
"What are yo-..." But some part of Nagato - the one that still clung onto the 'old ways' as his ancestors would have called them, stilled his tongue. Fushi felt this was necessary and so he would give her the space to speak her peace. He listened without recourse for additional verbiage or adding to the conversation.

For someone who came from a background like hers, adopting a position before him must have been quite the dedication. She was probably ruining more money with this gesture than they were going to earn from dealing with these artistic street rodents. "I think there's been a little bit of miscommunication between us here," Nagato said, offering his hand out to her.

"You haven't done anything that needs this kind of apology, and I'd gotten accustomed to looking up when I was talking to you." Assuming that Fushi took the offered hand, he would help her up into a standing position - as such as a gentleman's duty here. The tidbit about the face took him aback, but Nagato was choosing to ignore that for the time being. With only a very delicate heaping of life experience, fingering that can of worms told him that they were flesh-eating and hungry. It wouldn't do to haphazardly throw himself into a situation he didn't understand.

"You're forgiven Fushi, for whatever it is. I thought I was the one who had slighted you, no?" He raised an eyebrow at her in quizzical askance. A decidedly bookish expression for a very nonbookish boy.

Looking up at this unexpected tone Fushi would see Nagato bathed in a halo of lightlight cast by some source she did not care about. Nay instwad she focused on the angelic figure and the hand extended towards her to lift her out of the muck. Her clothes may be soiled but money was no object to the nobel who never wanted for it and thus never build care over it. Whilst true she had just wasted more ryo than the mission wouuld provide, it was worth it for this completely new experience that washed over her. For the first and only time of becoming defenseless or exposed to another did not result in the Uzumaki coming out worse for wear.

Accepting the hand with her bigger yet more delicate one she avcepted the other ninjas help even though she did not require assistance in the slightest. The other ninja would then explain that he had percieved no slight against him but the next thing set the Uzumaki Buki user to blushing. So he had gotten used to looking up at her huh? Why did that make her feel excited and weird, flattered and some new unknown feeling the woman could not comprehend. Still holding Nagato's hand Fushidarana Uzumaki would subconsciously squeeze it when the man stated how he felt in the wrong.

It was simply too much for the woman who was unaccustomed to such niceties and actual ettiquite. Standing there like a golem the doton weilder would be completely flush and innert for three seconds before awkwardly looking down to their grasped hands and quickly letting go.

"Sorry Nagato" she bleeted out fearful at making the man feel awkward, not knowing the actions just performed would make things more awkward. "You are uh att- uh fine, youre like really fine dont worry" internal panic had set in as the woman's brain began to revert to that of a teenage girl around her crush. "So um like I havent seen uh anything that weird but without jutsu who knows, should we like continue or um is there anything I should clear up orrr?" The nervous panic continued to escalate as the mission contonued on spurred now by the acts of kindness the male had performed.

(Sites acting up for mobile posting so short)

An apology? Turning his expression to the quizzical, Nagato cocked an eyebrow at her: the dark silken jag rising up far above an otherwise imperial occulus. "Isn't that my line?" He demurred amusedly, very much aware that they were standing in the middle of the market place holding hands. In other clothes and climates, with fireworks flashing above, it would be almost like a date.
Except it was cold, dark and one of them had managed to accumulate some mud on her. It was a character trait the male Genin would endeavour to remember, it was not every day, after all, you met someone with quite a thorough conviction as Fushi. Or who knew, really. There was a certain amount of discretion involved here - and Nagato walked the thin tight-rope between the obtuse and the acute. How much to ask, how much to infer and how much to act upon?

"Don't worry about your appearance, it makes you look intimidating." Nagato thought about flashing a thumbs up to her, but given how deadpan his deliveries could be, the foresight of old faithful empathy told him that it might backfire a little. An outcome which was given extra credence by their relatively fresh status of acquaintanceship.
It wasn't so much that Fushi needed the help to be intimidating, her features, height and demeanour would naturally lend themselves to that. But her current behaviour was less than ideal if they were to break into a fight and the tepid male hoped it had been a gentle nudge in the right direction. It was not so much that he didn't care for her emotions. But they were on the job.

Letting Fushi compose herself for a moment, Nagato continued the brisk (for him) pace from before, and let the silence settle on their shoulders before he broke the question to her that was itching at him. In truth, it wasn't his place to ask, but curiosity was a foul beast in the mind of this Kobayashi. "So, about your face? Is that where you've had -"

The question was interrupted by the sound his ears had been pricked up for since the start of their patrol: the aerosol carrying paint through the air and landing against wood and stone with a continuous wet hissing splatter. A crude part of Nagato's brain whispered 'pisssssssssss' to him and he struggled to keep a straight face as he pointed in the direction of the sound. Somewhere vaguely to their left, although not far off.


[All good, I'm not posting much either.]

“I suppose Intimidation is a good thing in our line of work" Fushidarana would muse squinching her face into thought as she digested the shorter man's comments. Whilst certainly not the smartest, the Uzumaki did have a cleverness about her and she pierced into exactly what the comment had been intended for. They were on a mission after all, so it was with remorse that the woman would begin to drop the mask from her persona. Long ago she had learned that acting in an over the top and ‘friendly' manner would help. And while her emotions had been true this whole time the Doton user had also been taking the time to investigate the area. Hence her comment being true despite its seemingly empty headed delivery. They had not, up until that point, come across any of the delinquents. This would not remain the case however. 

“What about my face you little git?” the line was delivered with a laugh as she slowly strode towards the now prone body of the tagger. For as soon as the pair had perceived paint applying plumes to plaster or as the man thought piss puddling and pooling on the pavement Fushi had done something with her coordination and strength. Pulling up a rock with her toes she would throw it to her left hand which would then hurl it nigh silently through the air at a very quick pace. This was all done with a fluid motion while the painter was focused on their craft. As such the unconscious body would slap into the wall covering themselves in paint before slumping down it. The Uzumaki had thrown it hard but had not cracked the skull, instead leaving a welt that grew as she strode towards the body and sat upon it using her surprisingly heavy weight to pin the spray painter. 

 “So when this little fuck wakes up you interrogate him got it? I’d just rip the cock sucker's jaw and beat him to death with it but we gotta play by the rules of the Mizukage" Fushi said this all for the benefit of the tagger who was just waking up. If she was correct Nagato would be smart enough to realize he was going to have to play good cop to the woman's bad cop. Of course that meant this situation could go any number of ways but in the end the Uzumaki did not care. They were just a couple of spray painters after all, how deep could this go? Child trafficking ring? She doubted it.

If the rapid flurry of action from his left was of a great surprise to Nagato - it didn't display on his face as he dashed forwards and a scant heartbeat after the rock collided with the artists' head, Nagato and his partner in anti-crime arrived at the scene swiftly. For once, it seemed, justice would be carried on quick feet. Often this was not the case. Especially in the more unreliable parts of town. It was seeping moral corrosion that the iconography of the artist represented. A marker of the social underbelly rearing its ugly head in an otherwise heavily regulated portion of town.
This fight was not so much about whatever injures they delivered to the individual - he was but a symptom of the problem. Nonetheless, it seemed that neither of them was feeling kindly towards him tonight. Fushi arrived first, and as such swiftly snatched up the prized role of bad cop. The temptation was to pull a mature and professional face at her to express this frustration, probably a tongue out and one eye half-closed. Perhaps a rude hand gesture or two, but given the scion's insulated background, he suspected that it might go astray. Or worse, be misunderstood to be something it wasn't.

"If ya say so," Nagato growled and squatted just a few feet away from the prone individual - looking down at him with chilly eyes. Despite the cold, Nagato felt his skin prickling and the uncomfortable sensation of something sliding just beneath the viscous membrane of the skin. A sleepy awareness brushing against the pregnant moment. "Personally I'd rather just say there were...complications with apprehending him, you know."

Taking out a kunai, Nagato passed it between his fingers and didn't say anything for a while - letting the cities ambient light catch the blade at an angle. It would be the first thing the man saw as he awoke. If he said anything or spluttered, Nagato firmly pushed the blade up close to his lips. An operation that proved effective, even if he clearly had things on his mind.

"Now then, I'm going to get your name from you." The point of the kunai fell - almost carelessly, just below the lid of his eye.

"Edoken Rei-." A will'o'wisp edge darted forwards and Nagato silenced him again.
"Your real name," snarling with a ferocity that seemed uncommon. Nagato wondered in a small sensible voice that didn't make it very far into the rest of his brain, as to whether he was taking this a little too far. The rest of that prickly sticky wetness that now lurked behind his eyes didn't see any issues with where it was going. The name thing had been a guess, but Nagato had a sneaking suspicion that calling him out on it and being correct would be much stronger a message than otherwise. And if he was wrong, he was just being a hardline interrogator. And their captive had the look of the weasel about him - not someone who usually solved his own problems.

"Ieyasu Cie." There was a flatness to his voice that Nagato found depressing. Keot, it seemed, had been hoping for more. As he asked more questions, he determined the number of taggers that would be coming through tonight. Ieyuasu was slowly going cross-eyed as the tip of the kunai described a small parabola along the bridge of his nose to the midsection of his eyebrows.
Apparently, there would be another crew coming through of four more people. The enforcers, they had been called. Ieyasu was here more to win brownie points than anything else.

"I'm done with questions for him, what do you want to do now, boss?" This was the first time he had spoken to Fushi in a few minutes and it felt strange to shift so suddenly from a gaping power difference to one of relatively equal terms.

Fushidarana rolled her eyes, just how stubborn was this guy anyways? The old faithful of good cop, bad cop was the proper 'interrogation' technique and there was a reason it worked far better in most cases than the duo bad cop approach Nagato was now taking the trio of souls. The reasoning was quite simple really, you want the person you are tortur- interrogating to resent one person and like the other, over time you can build both of these feelings into hate and trust. Once you are at that point, most of the information is given, not before hand. Though as this was a case of there was in fact people weak enough to break under pure threatery and force. The Uzumaki just hoped the person she was sitting upon would not pass water onto the cobblestone below them and possible ruin her outfit even more.

Speaking of that, even after an apology like that the man either missed the point or understood it and went ahead and did what he wanted anyways. The woman assumed it was the latter as she did not think he was dull or slow in such a manner, nor any she had yet found without him acting coyly about it. Well this would be interesting for forming plans around after all the Bukijutsu user thought to herself as she considered the situation they were in while the male ninja went about sweetly menacing the prone painter who's goose was cooked.

'Growling is laying it on a bit thick don't you think Nagato?' the female doton user made certain to stop her eyes from rolling in her head again at this thinking the man was just putting on some act like the Uzumaki had been doing earlier. This was just a small fry after all, an insignificant pawn whom would show them the way forward, nothing more and nothing less was he to the Nobel. Nagato on the other hand was beginning to look like a useful albeit unruly partner to have, this interrogation told her more about the ninja than it did about the painter's organization after all, Fushidarana Uzumaki had a dull cleverness about her.

Locking eye contact with the man Fushi would give him a genuine smile, "Looks like it's off to the bridge then." Finishing she would stand up and quickly bring her foot down on the back of the prone man's lung knocking the wind out of it but making certain not to break any ribs with the blow. After this she would pick him up by the back of the shirt and pull him, dangling, to her eye level. "As for you, you run home little rat and don't let your mother catch you doing this again, even if she's dead she is watching you" Fushi purred before tossing the man to the opposite direction of where they would later head, making sure he hit some wooden barrels instead of the hard stone cobblestone below.

It would be a bit of a way to the bridge if Fushidarana remembered correctly this would give some time for conversation, which she would attempt again now, "Yaknow I wanted you to play good cop right? Are you just that bloodthirsty or are you more pigheaded? Also what was that about my face you jerk?" The jest delivered with that last line showed there was no ill will coming from her side of this duo.

"I've gotta practise somewhere - and I don't want to sound like an amateur when it comes down to the wire. You just get the honour of being my unfortunate audience."   In other circumstances, Nagato would have stuck his tongue out at Fushi: a very professional expression. But alas, they were still on the job, and even if there was time for a little lighthearted banter between them, he didn't let himself get pulled too far off track. Having gotten the information he needed from Ieyasu he didn't care so much to maintain the rough attitude.

Amusingly, whatever intimidation Nagato had levelled at Ieyasu, he was sure that Fushi's size and sheer strength was a good deal more impressive than his knifeplay. Although if he had been pressed on it, he'd have said that he had weakened up the delinquent for her. After all, these were kids. There was only so much they could be expected to handle. Somewhere, a species of retrospective thought popped up in a corner of his mind: 'wasnt he just a kid too? Where or when did he start thinking of himself in a different frame of mind to them. After all, he wasn't all that different.'

On their way to the bridge, Nagato found himself pinned in a very unfortunate place indeed. Between duty, and a tough question to answer. Truth be told, Nagato hadn't been very clear on the concept of 'good and bad' cop - both of them had been there to hold him down. Although, how to answer it without showing that he didn't know the lingo. Answering too quickly would make him look guilty, too slowly like he was simple and as she said 'pigheaded'. And like so many other times in his life, he let his mouth do the talking while his brain twiddled its thumbs and attempted to formulate a reply. Fortunately, once prodded into action, it usually caught up and made its best attempt to 'back the play' as he had heard his sporting uncle's call it once.

"Ah yeah, about that. I got a little carried away with the act, sorry about that. Blame it on mission jitters, perhaps. As for those two,"   Nagato tilted his head, thinking about it. "I suppose bloodthirsty is the more desirable of the two for our profession, but it felt like the right thing to do in that situation."  
Nagato raised his palm, envisioning the fear he had seen inscribed in Ieyasu's face before making a fist - thinking about his emotions in that moment. "I felt that he'd crack if I pushed him hard enough and gave him no choices. I'm sorry I went against what you wanted. You can play...good cop next time if you want to. But I think we're fighting for keeps this time."  

As for Fushi's face, he turned his head towards her for a moment, sneaking a cursory look again before replying. He had been informed in the past that 'innocently blinking' just made him look like he had woken up from sleep and hadn't been listening - so he refrained here, although perhaps Fushi wasn't far from the truth with the pigheaded comment. Nagato distinctly recalled complaints about being far too headstrong.
"That you have a very nice face but I'd be scared if I was in your bad books?"   Unfortunately, it seemed he'd be pigheaded to the last.

Iyeasu? Eyesoassuu? The Uzumaki tried to ponder the name of the kid that they had interrogated, it didn’t ultimately matter but she hoped he was a low level who could quit out of the life of crime. It wasn’t a safe one even compared to the career of being a ninja which was her own profession. Right now it was muuuuuch safer to know how to use chakra for an example, at least when it came to cleaning up crime. 

 “Well why not just take up singing death metal for practice?” Fushidarana asked the young man in genuine confusion. To her that seemed like it would be the most efficient and cohesive practice for getting good growls down. Though perhaps that was not his main objective and the raven haired woman was being slightly airheaded, a very distinct possibility indeed. The Uzumaki while thick headed functioned well enough thanks mainly to her perceptive nature and ability to think outside the box. She was street smart but certainly could not do math at an even slightly above average level. 

Well…it did work…and Fushi had been having troubles at staying mad at Nagato all day, with that in mind she could justify not worrying about him going duo bad cop though she could not help but chuckle at him telling her to play good cop. “Now you’re getting a bit big for your britches partner, wanna wrestle to see who gets to be bad cop?” this time her laugh was more than a giggle but a full and hearty guffaw even though she was not certain who would win, she was confident it would be favorable for her thanks to leverage. Length of limb helped a lot in the art of wrestling though truthfully her heart laugh gave away that this was entirely and completely a joke. Wrestling in the middle of a mission was foolish of the utmost degree and a good way to give advantage to weaker enemies. 

As soon as the context was given the mentioned face in question would become flush as the hands flapped at the sides of the Uzumaki ninja in order not to have her overreact to both compliments, granted she thought one was better but coming from Nagato both might be equally meant to distill joy. Regardless the tall and deceptively slender woman was entirely flustered and just stammered at this completely distracted by the words just uttered. Unfortunately this would cause her perception which was normally keen to not notice the group that had come from the direction of the bridge stealthily. Unfortunately it seemed that Ieyasu was supposed to check in with the group he had mentioned and the group got suspicious now using the urban environment to snake around buildings and through roads to get to where the two ninja were. Their headbands no doubt rousing suspicion though if there was any they did not act upon it. Even now as they slinked around the building that Fushidarana and Nagato had stopped ten feet from.

Singing? Nagato cocked his head in thought - not so much as to the exact genre his erstwhile companion had offered (death metal sounded ominous) - but to the concept as a whole. Voice, speech and the ability to communicate were all invaluable things. Nagato didn't care to be able to sing, but training the human voice was a muscle like anything else. And he was confident that given time and practice he could improve his own. So perhaps she was onto something - even if Nagato suspected it might be best to practice out of earshot.
"I'll look into it, thank you for the suggestion."

Nagato eyed Fushi for a moment - their size difference coming on big and strong in those moments. "No, no. Saving my strength for the rest of them, you understand." He laughed back at her, no shame at all hiding behind his admittedly less than honourable defence. Not that Nagato really took much value in these things like honour, it still didn't hurt to keep them in mind. Even if he privately thought they were a little absurdist for Shinobi to place so much stock in. And if not absurdist, than a species of hypocrisy that Nagato couldn't truthfully identify. It settled somewhere between hating your neighbour for something and then doing it yourself to show him how ridiculous it was.

Still, he laughed heartily with Fushi - for they were young, ridiculous and on an adventure. Or so it seemed anyway. The night unfurled before them, and all the world seemed an Hozuki-clam. Ripe for the plucking.

And just as swiftly Nagato felt welcomed by the night - so too did it seem to sweep away those infinite options. He was felt feeling remorseful, as though his inaction had cost them everything. But it brought his attention to another state of deficiency. Whilst it seemed Fushi was embroiled with her own emotions, Nagato peered around - not the most perceptive of individuals he failed to observe the movements that his companion would have seized upon.
As they came up along the bridge, paranoia played on its thin catgut strings in his ears; singing a tune most painful. "Do you think we -" Nagato was interrupted by a meaty crack as a rock bounced off his head from the side - catching him across the side of the temple and it was due to a far less than ideal history with pain that stopped him from crying out. Instead, he sucked in a breath and steadied himself.

Training kicked in automatically, and he drew two kunai from his pockets, scanning the mist uncertainly. Warmth pooled at the top of his ear, strangely itchy, as blood began to flow from the wound. All head injuries were want to blood profusely. "What happens when good cop and bad cop get taken unawares?" He murmured stiffly, still stubbornly sticking to their old agreement and not resorting to chakra trickery.

((Sorry if it's bad, really tired writing it and mostly just pressing buttons on the keyboard.))

So it seemed that her companion was awed by her physical power, perhaps there was hope for breaking him in later yet but that would be for later. Much as she did wish for it to remain in her mind, that nice foggy feeling of bliss that she felt when Nagato paid her compliment but that was not the fate for tonight. Instead of the red haze of romance a crimson haze of blood would be what was cast over the young man’s vision that night unfortunately for them both. The failure of her perception along with her failure to protect the smaller man would overshadow any memory she had of a promise of no jutsus, much less even was it that she would remember the idea of interrogating this group. Fushi too, would see red.

 The tall woman would crouched to become wider to completely cover her comrade like a matriarchal feline protecting it's young, thanks to her skill and training the genin was able to gauge exactly where the first rock had come from and thus sending a kunai to split that man's forehead was a simple task. The maroon flower that blossomed from the pale canvas signaled the players departure from the stage before Fushidarana would even fully crouch over Nagato. “To my back, I have a feeling theres another one down the side of the bridge. I have an eye on the one on this side and hes waiting for something, probably them to get into place.” The Bukijutsu user shared the information as it poured into her brain, what the other ninja would do with it was up to them but she was hoping he could find this theoretical person or the one on her side of the bridge would approach closer. If he did not she could still hit him but the idea of leaving the smaller ninja open to more damage infuriated her.

Nagato wasn't sure how to go about processing Fushi's grasp on the situation - he was commonly the person who held the cards due to his sensory skillset. It was a rough learning experience to be on the other side of the equation for once. Embracing it, moving past it, Nagato peered through the mist and stepped to the side of Fushi for a moment to ensure he didn't hit her with his kunai before he threw it - visualizing the location he needed it to land. He was guessing the left side of the bridge, as the band of unseasonably violent fellows would have likely come from the East end of Kirigakure. He was rewarded with the metallic sparkle of disappointment: deflected.

"I think they're ready for our thrown fun now," he remarked bitterly - fingers itching and a bloom of superviolence blossoming behind him, Nagato took a Taijutsu stance he had learned during his academy years. Its founding principles were simplicity unto themselves: break them.
"Let's fight to break out of this deadlock Fushi, we're pinned here." His words were murmured and once she agreed or disagreed with the plan, then Nagato would feel comfortable with beginning to move forwards - the blood on his face turning his expression macabre.

“Fine we will but the thrown fun doesn't stop here, get the guy behind us and I’ll tackle the group!” At the word fun Fushidarana Uzumaki would spin around and use the momentum to pick up and gracefully hurl the smaller man to where she was facing early. It would only be 15ft and at a vertical angle keeping the falling damage to Nagato to none even if he botched the landing a bit, the genin doubted he would. As her sentence continued her voice would grow louder into a guttural shout as the woman charged into the group of four men who emerged from the mist, the first man ran forward and performed a downward chop with the sword that had blocked the kunai earlier. 

 Catching it with both hands the Uzumaki regeneration would eat any damage before it happened allowing Fushi to yank the weapon away while bring her forehead forward into that of the running man's causing him to be knocked to the floor like a puppet with it’s strings cut. The next person took advantage of this however and got his sword to sing through the air above the Doton user's head keeping it down. Of course this would be about the time she expected some kunai to come flying in from behind her. The timing of these actions was what she was hoping would help her avoid some pain so if the other ninja ended up encountering more gang members on the other side of the bridge this was going to turn into an old fashion brawl.

Thrown fun was only part of the truth - it was fun for perhaps one of them. For Nagato, it was much more akin to the time he had been bucked unceremoniously from the back of a horse. However, it kept on going and he couldn't truthfully see where his trajectory was taking him.

Unlike the last time, however, he was a much more physically capable individual and sticking the landing was not an unanswerable task for him. Truthfully, he could perhaps even ask for Fushi to throw him harder next time. If the suspense on the bridge, mingled with the pain had been enough to get his adrenaline flowing through his veins - this was another level of engagement entirely. It turned out that getting the drop on the solitary man was a relatively easy task - and whilst it grated on him a little bit that Fushi was accepting that much harder task, he knew that by securing their rear they would be able to escape should it be required.

The look of surprise was a delicious morsel for Nagato as he landed next to the man and immediately transitioned the momentum into a palm thrust: knocking him up into the air and immediately grasping his arm and swinging him down into the dirt. A crossbow twirled from his hands; a distant shape disappearing into the mist. It's an exit from the scene was punctuated only with a soft splash as was the man's as the crunch of his bones of the cobblestone filled Nagato with a sickening revulsion - but also a surge of energy. There was a primal joy to be found, there, but only in the unthinking continuation of action.

And it turned out that continue it would - Nagato's ears were clear and his senses like crystal: even so the sound of boots running at him didn't require much combat boosted awareness to be detected. Pivoting into the arhart fist, Nagato met the first combatant with a low swinging kick - threatening to spill his legs out from underneath. He stalled his momentum but did nothing to prevent him from stabbing at Nagato; rolling out the way of the thirsty blade.

Four gang members? Ieyasu was either full of shit or ignorant as to the scope of this gang. Ultimately he was just a nobody, but Nagato wasn't going to forget the lack of details either. A part of his noted that with the increased population of Kiri, a corresponding increase in crime was only to be expected. But to this point? It boggled the mind.

Vaguely he wondered how Fushi was doing, but as two shades joined the first, he sojourned the charitable thoughts for another time. There were problems aplenty on this side of the bridge, and he whispered a prayer to grace and offered both men a solider's salute as Keot had taught him long ago now.

Time was up, help was not springing forth as fast as the Uzumaki would have liked forcing her to bring her head back up with a jump backwards preceding it. Along with that jump her hands would fill with kunai which when she landed five feet behind would flash to the man who had slashed her, he blocked the first but not the second which struck his belly causing his two remaining companions to cover his retreat by advancing as a duo and forcing the genin to pull her wooden bo staff from her belt loop, a five foot staff was not so ludicrous wielded one handedly by someone nearly six and a half feet tall. Her grip was about 5/8ths of the way down the shaft allowing her long arms to wield the grain like some wooden baton though truthfully she preferred using it as a bat. 

The pair of men advanced upon her with brass knuckles and a flail with a two pound ball on a short chain. If the flail was longer perhaps this would have worked but instead Fushi shifted a bit to the man with the brass knuckles which would force the man with the flail to have to cover more ground for a better position or risk hitting his friend. The Bukijutsu Kiri ninja had no such qualms and would crack her arm back using her powerful shoulders and arm muscles to act almost like a whip bringing the wood in an arc forward to crack the first man in the side of the head knocking him to the ground in a blur even to her, that one was probably not going to make it, the person with mud and now blood on their clothes thought as their momentary distraction was rewarded with a metal ball to the ribs. 

 Nothing she couldn’t regenerate from but the cheeky fucker, using her free hand she grasped the metallic chain and pulled the man towards her using her torso’s momentum to crack this man in the side of his ribs dealing more damage and he didn’t register as an Uzumaki or Kaguya to her so he probably wouldn’t be healing from this. “Not funny is it!” Fushi choked out as she wondered how Nagato was doing…

For whatever reason, Nagato had never felt a particular affinity towards the weapons - something he suspected that came from his ethereal passenger, but also the delicious satisfaction that could be derived from accomplishing a task with your own two hands.

The trio of men approached cautiously - a few cursory glances towards their awkwardly splayed companion did little to allay the burning anger that lit within their eyes. If this had been a comic, they would have said something cheesy here like 'you'll pay for this' or 'you're gonna regret doing that'. Instead, their grim silence communicated everything and more that was going through their heads. Even in the pale Kirigakure gloom, their white knuckles boldly rose to attention and even though none of them saluted Nagato back - he could recognise their own preperations for combat. He didn't have a weapon to furiously grind between the strength of palm and finger.

Just grace and Keot.

The first exchange was exploratory and probing - but Nagato learned much more from them then they did he. The first one to strike did so in a controlled and practised manner, and Nagato knew that the priority target was the one in charge. Darting around the strike, quickly than he seemed to be expecting he focused on stampping on the blade - pinning it to the ground and beneath his bodyweight before kicking the man's hand and forcing his grasp to relinquish the blade.

Moving again, Nagato darted back as the other two jabbed at him - one with a halberd or a spear of some description. In truth it was probably a repurposed fishing pole, which meant that the wooden handle would be its weak point. Assuming he could get past the darting metal spike which threatened to brain him.

Pivoting on his toes, Nagato darted first at the unarmed man who was retreating backwards frantically and drawing another sword - with some complications it seemed before switching his target midway through. Slapping aside the pike - Nagato registered a vague painful blur as the metal sliced skin open but the overextension left the wielder open. Hurtling himself forwards - he hoisted the man up with both arms and furiously brought him down into a rising knee. With a sound like an exploding donkey, he collapsed - winded and thoroughly incapacitated.

With one of the spear bearers dealt with, the formation fell apart quickly from that point - without greater coverage of their weapons he rammed his closed fist into the side of the second pike wielder and didn't need to see his eyes roll up into the back of his pale head to know the blow had been dangerously close to lethal.

The last one took a bit more time and effort, but both of them know the outcome once the man found his back up against a wall. Tiring of the chase, Nagato traded with him - allowing another cut to score across his arm in exchange for an elbow strike to the man's jaw. His momentary disorientation would quickly escalate into unconsciousness and Nagato rested for a moment: hands on his knees before making his way back towards the bridge.

"You better be doing alright over there." He called out, but it didn't seem they'd be reuniting any time soon. Already he could hear more footsteps. What an outrageous night.

The arrow that now pierced Fushi's other side and glanced off her ribs sailing into the night sky, was caused thanks to her turning and assuming she was done there. Two more men appeared from the dark mist though neither wielded a bow which the Uzumaki found extremely frustrating. How many good damn men were there? This just didn't make sense, though it made more sense than what would happen a short while after this but for now the Doton user standing on a bridge had to fend off two men who were armed with spears. 

Advancing in a crossed patter the two men would jab at Fushidarana in a way to try and hed her into a specific place but instead she would grab one of the spears pulling the man forward in a trick so nice that it worked twice. Using her free hand she punched the man from beneath and under his jaw into his throat downing him instantly. By now both her would were completely healed so theoretically she could take another arrow in order to determine the archers position. Before she could decide the other spear man darted forward unexpectedly at the Uzumaki only to be caught in the back with an arrow.

 By now it was far too long to leave Nagato allow so after returning fire and hearing a soft faint yet juicy thud she would turn around and begin to make her way to the other side of the bridge before a rush of water came up behind her and threw her to her destination quicker than expected forcing her to roll next to the man who appeared decently healthy “I'm glad you’re not dead either" Fushi would say warmly before snapping into solid reality with a warning “They have a suiton user and hes on the other side of the bridge.” As she spoke the visible road rash she had was healing in front of the eyes of anyone who cared to look.

Grumbling half-heartedly, Nagato came forwards with a rolling tumble - and prompting swept up the two incoming combats with a rising storm of action - neither one of them preparing from an assault below their eye-line, let alone a lone assailant when it seemed they had assumed it was the work of a rival gang. Knuckles throbbing in time with the beat of his heart, Nagato walked towards their slumped bodies and deflty kicked their weapons from their hands with his boots - their hands raised up, drunkenly attempting to defend themselves. As they softly murmured complaints in badly accented sailors tongues' Nagato heard the familiar crash of water against the stone and turned around; only after silencing their wayward curses.

A familiar face came through the gloom, and Nagato smiled; it was perhaps the best thing he had seen all night. Her greeting was music to his ears; the warning much less well-received. Cursing in a fair imitation of his previous assailants, Nagato motioned her to follow him.

"Too risky to fight them right where they're strongest." He peered at the rapidly healing wound on Fushi and raised a jagged eyebrow at her in silent wonder. "I'm not going to recover as quickly as you from the combat, your call if you're taking the fight to them right away."
Now that she had long to come to a decision either, as he could hear the water advancing in time with the footsteps from the other side of the bridge already.

“Nagato I will keep them busy and you can sneak up on em and do your thing, I’ll be okay as you said you will not.” As she spoke she rolled her shoulders dumping the overcoat and leaving her in only a bra to cover her toned and tensed body the combat causing her muscles to lightly show through her soft exterior betraying the power beneath but she needed the extra movement because she honestly did not have many offensive doton jutsu to surprise this criminal ninja with though she did have one. “Don't do anything stupid no matter how badly I get damaged okay?” her own pain she could deal with but her plan would not work at all if this charming young man fucked around and got hurt even worse. As she spoke the last part she used the arm of the discarded overcoat to bandage the head wound the male ninja had stoically ignored.

 After this Fushidarana Uzumaki could not waste any more time and turned back to the bridge and began to stride back into the thickening mist now no doubt caused by the ninjutsu user that accompanied this odd gang. Perhaps this was the leader? The noble hoped as much, the idea that this was just a lieutenant of a larger operation did not sit well with the young lady. Her heels cracked on the cobblestone with staccato percussive sounds as she approached her opponent on their own turf. After walking roughly twenty feet the genin would be greeted by a water whip that cut her under the bra and a yell from the mist destroying the purpose of the hiding technique. 

“I'll teach you to dress like a bimbo you gym bunny amazonian whore” even if the voice had not given it away the content of the sentence spelled out that it was a female who delivered it, at least in spirit, the voice confirmed the enemy ninja was female in body too and Fushidarana would rush forward as she bled gaining another three inch deep lash below the other that was still bleeding though healing none the less. The Uzumaki genin needed eyes on her opponent for her jutsu to be effective and she needed to distract this woman so Nagato could strike.

As much as the chivalrous, dashing part of him might be keen to speak up and protest the roles allocated to them - he let the moment go, and all too quickly that pseudo-misogynistic impulse was eaten up by the drums of war beating in his ears. The war machine would chew up and spit back out such high minded notions readily - and Nagato's weren't an exception to this rule. Grimacing at the plan, he didn't voice any outright complaints - keeping things chirpy and (for the sake of his own sanity) fun. A foul image ran across the forefront of his cerebral cortex, turning in mission report in which he had been successful or unsuccessful, but had to report that a teammate had died whilst working with him.
It would be a stain that would last for his whole life - all because he failed to keep someone alive who needed it most. "Alright,' he agreed, although he was sure that Fushi would be able to hear the strain in his voice. 'Don't do anything I wouldn't do, crazy princess. I'm not as squishy as I look either. And I'm breaking the promise if it looks like you're getting in trouble, you hear me?"

Nagato took his time getting into position - he wasn't such a hasty amateur that he'd thoughtlessly throw away all the pain and effort Fushi would go through to win them this advantage. Shrinking his presence down in on itself, he disguised himself thoroughly from view. Hopefully, this particular skill wouldn't qualify as cheating - but after a certain point, Nagato didn't care. They were already being reckless with their lives by refusing to take on these foes with their full skillsets.

Nagato had quickly scaled one of the buildings to the end of the bridge - he already had his approach planned out a little, but it was going to be relatively risky. It was right up his alley, it felt like nothing he had done so far tonight hadn't contained at least an element of disaster to it. From his handling of the situation with Fushi to begin with to their earlier pact. Now, he was going to rely on Fushi to make them lose their focus for a moment. He studied the battle with intent eyes, keenly observing their movements from his obscured position above them on the rooftop; his body hidden away behind an air vent.

Being called a princess had given her inspiration, this same inspiration coursed through her body as she moved forward through the pain, the first lash fully healed and the second not turning the mist red thanks only due to how thin it was. While her current wound was deep and long, the width of flesh separated was razor thin allowing the accelerated congealed process to have stemmed it already but as a third blue line whipped out of the murky fog Fushidarana Uzumaki would duck under it allowing the jutsu to pass over her head as she advanced further finally spying the girl who would spot her as well forming Handseals to activate yet another jutsu. Not knowing whether her partner was ready or not the Uzumaki would beat the other female to the draw forming her Handseals and spitting rocks a short distance into the diaphragm of the desperate whore who insulted her honor. This act broke her concentration, thus fulfilling the condition upon which the genin had taken the now healed wounds. 

 The mist would drop but unfortunately so would Fushidarana whom was knocked down onto the pavement where she limped rolled clutching her head and swearing explicitives in pain as she recovered and jumped back up to encounter a hulking beast of a man who's fists were covered in a translucent energy. It seemed both sides had two ninja in this skirmish and she had only staggered the woman, now there was a man in front of her that she would need to use jutsu on. As such an earthen layer of stone would form around her body, covering her body in short order but also leaving her mobile and not decreasing her perception. The tall woman with raven colored hair that now fell down on the side of stone instead of flesh would fall into a battle stance with her legs positioned solidly and beckoned her opponent forward while hoping Nagato could pull something off here.

First, there seemed to be an opening - and he tensed his body to launch, but it disappeared as swiftly as it opened up. This same gap presented itself time and time again, and eventually, Nagato learned that it was not a true opening - just the natural lull within combat. By the time he had made the jump, it would be too late and they would have moved onto the next dance piece within their duet.

And so he was struck with inspiration - of a mad king's sort. He couldn't wait forever for the perfect opportunity to present itself. He couldn't expect Fushi to do everything - she was already tangling with what seemed to be completely unfavourable odds. So Nagato adopted a strategy that he had learned long ago from a peculiar Jonin - a man who loved odds, dice and probability - but also whores of all kinds. 'When you gotta do a trick, it needs to be no more than four or three parts. Often you'll wanna add more, but ya can't. Cram it in there.'
To which Nagato had asked, 'what's a trick?'

As it turned out, a trick was when you wanted to make the impossible doable. By fighting the odds with wit, human ingenuity and courage. It took guts, and sometimes a little bit of stupidity. Throwing three kunai up in a long arc, Nagato readied himself for the moment it was coming and then took off at a sprint as the projectiles began arcing down.

He had seen Fushi make hand signs herself, so that meant the gloves were off - so to speak. Although he didn't plan on resorting to anything especially spectacular. As he launched himself off the edge of the roof, he wreathed himself deep into a heart of stone - Keot responding to the call and flooding Nagato's skin cells with eldritch fingerprints. Durability not often associated with human flesh binding itself with his very being - at a temporary cost.

The kunai impacted the ground a few seconds before Nagato - providing ample distraction for his landing - although as he had come down he produced a diversionary clone; a clone who's flight path differed from his own slightly. The noise would cause the suiton user to turn her head, and to see the clone plummeting towards her from the far side. It was an easy bait as she made to respond to the newly spotted threat.

To her back, Nagato landed with a sickening crunch as the bridge beneath him complained, but not as much as when he quickly opened up into the kata of the arhart fist he knew best on her exposed back. Normally he would have held back a little given how dangerous it was to attack someone along their spine or temple - but the gloves were off. Fushi was bleeding and in danger, there wasn't going to be anything pretty about the damage he did. And with a wet crack, the suiton user dropped within a few heartbeats - never even seeing where the attacks would come from.

Pulling a shuriken from his pocket, he let Keot translate his desire into reality as the projectile expanded in size several times as he spun it on his finger and then flung it towards the man - being careful not to angle it so that he would be able to dodge the shuriken and let it carry on towards Fushi. Hopefully, it would be enough of a distraction for her to deal some significant damage to the beheamth of a man.

Nagato was certainly a reliable guy, Fushidarana was glad indeed to have him as her partner on this conjoined endeavor of theirs that had blossomed into a crazy series of events. Who could have imagined that spray painters would lead up to criminal ninja in their very village, it was absurd to think about bit there they were. In her opinion though a trick was a lady of the night and not what her male escort performed there on that bridge glistening in the moonlight, labored in his own sweat. Fushidarana mentally captured that mental image as it popped into her head, now that would be a good way to vent her frustration at this sudden turn the mission had taken. 

For now however the Uzumaki brawler was exchanging hits with the man who was blasting her armor off in chunks with every blow but she saw her fists leave bruises, she could keep this up but could he? A left and right pattern of blows had been set up initially and continued for a time until the woman felt more than saw a large object come up from behind and to the side of her hurtling towards the man who had stepped back to prepare his next swing, with a quick twist of her arm the doton us user would grab the enlarged shuriken and hurl it towards the man switching it's angle and orientation which caused the man to become hesitant in his first course of dodging. While the shuriken was dodged the movement brought him directly into a side kick from the equally tall woman who followed up her attack with a thrust to the sternum with her opposite hand which would cause the large man to spin away like a top. 

Though not before he got an explosive tag off and hurling on the end of a kunai towards Nagato, instinctively Fushidarana grabbed it and regretted it near instantly as the explosion ripped her arm to ribbons down to the elbow. Well that hurt, it would take a long time to heal from well less than five minutes truthfully but it hurt god damnit. “Ow my god damn mother fucking arm, kill this fucker Nagato holy fuck this hurts, Mizukage above this stings like a fucking bitch holy damn" as Fushi spoke her arm would already lose its black charring and begin regrowing from the elbow. This part always was so irritatingly itchy but at least it was better than losing it. The large man was slumped over on the side of the bridge unconscious from her blows but Fushi was too focused on her damn arm.

Striking an unconscious opponent normally would have phased Nagato a little bit - there were moral questions to be answered before. But something a touch colder than simple morality stayed his hand. Glancing over at his wounded ally, Nagato took out several kunai and with an ugly snarl - enlarged them (one by one) and skewered the large man to the spokes of the bridge's handrail. None of the injuries were fatal, but if he moved or attempted to escape without assistance they would be. To say nothing of time's cruel hand slowly stifling his flame. Resolving himself, Nagato turned back towards Fushi - his hands searching for anything, something on him that would be able to help. But ultimately he was just relegated to the role of a witness. And it stung at him with a burning distaste. There was a reckless urge to bring forth Keot but he knew that the small creature wasn't so versed in repairing other people.

It was something for him to look into - until now Nagato had never felt so powerless in the face of his fellows suffering. Now it took on a new kind of meaning for him.

"I've got him pinned down for the moment Fushi, just rest let me deal with him okay?" Nagato's hands felt warm with indecision. Finally he rested it on the crazy Uzumaki's shoulder and gave a careful -and hopefully reassuring- squeeze. As he did so, he talked about the decision making behind his temporary mercy.

"We know this runs deeper and we've killed the others and let everything else go. We need him to talk, if at least for a moment. And besides, I thought you deserved an opportunity to be bad cop for this one." Nagato waited, supporting her only in spirit whilst drowning in a pit of ugly self-loathing as he thought over the horrific state her arms had been in a minute ago.