So much anger had been welling up inside him, almost ready to burst out in a torrent of wind and earth, yet Kegare's self control was not to be trifled with, as he had spend many years suppressing his emotions, his hatred and his seething hatred towards his clan and his country.

He hated it all, the way the world worked, the way the weak were being opressed by the strong and how there was a complete disregard for those that had talents not related to being a shinobi. The world was a twisted, sick place in his eyes, yet without the power or strength to change it, the masked man simply had to abide by his place in society as a disgraced and dishonored member of his clan.

"Always the same thing," Kegare lowered himself a bit, looking around, noticing the cracks in the ground and rocky walls that surrounded him. Every inch of his surroundings showed the blood and sweat that had been shed in the rocky fissures, of countless shinobi trying to strengthen and better themselves. "This world is a sham, why...why... why? Why didn't I simply take this decision sooner?"

His right hand clenched into a fist, the old man slammed it against the rocky surface of the wall in front of him, hearing his glove almost rip under the strain and stress it got from that single angry punch, yet the sound of the rock cracking wasn't there.

He was weak, helpless and downright below expectations. He who had once been hailed and lauded as a once in a generation prodigy had turned out to be nothing more than a fluke, a joke to both his clan and his village. "No more, I will no longer be weak...no longer be denied."

Now he punched with his left hand against the wall, shivering slightly when a cold breeze rushed through the fissures. Again with his right hand, again with his left hand, Kegare started punching the wall in succession, his gloves ripping open, being torn to shreds while his knuckles started to bleed, he continued punching, letting out a loud roar filled with hatred and despair. "I would want to see the world burn if it stays like this!!"

After letting out that anger, the masked man took a step back and took off his gloves, looking at the droplets of blood that ran down his hands, the old man finally calmed down a bit. "That Reikarou Kijin had a point: the world IS sick."

He took off his hat and vest and placed them on a small boulder at the entrance of the fissure he had taken up as his training spot. Using some ointment to ease his wounds and speed up the healing process of his hands, while grabbing a new pair of gloves from his vest and putting them on, glad that he always had a spare pair with him, just in case he needed it. "Well, there's no time like the present to try and change this dying world."

wc: 513