Sarutobi Mitsuo held a glass of cold water in his hand, or at least it had been cold when he got it, the Suna sun not doing anything for that. He sighed and took a sip of his now warm water, looking around the Grand Bazzar of Sunagakure. It was much more extravagant than the market back home, and it was also rather packed, something that didn't make Mitsuo the most happy person. He hated when people bumped him, often having to actively avoid people. He shook his head and walked down the street to see if he could spot any other Genin from Konoha.

He had given up on trying to keep his glasses from falling down his nose and had instead tied a string to each end, firmly fastening them to his head so they wouldn't slide off. His green eyes were a little red from sweat running into them as he wiped his brow once more, running fingers through his slick black hair and deciding to light a smoke. He inhaled deeply and brought the cigarette down to his side, his shirt in his pack as he walked around with his toned upper body exposed to the desert environment, sweat making him glisten.

He sighed again, smoke leaving his mouth as he did and looked down at his drink, his other hand moving to unconsciously touch his Katana, as though to check and make sure it was still there.

I wonder if the Chuunin exams will be really hard, eh nii-san? I'm sure I'll do alright, I've been doing a lot of training with Takeshi-sensei and my friends just for this moment. I'm sure I'll do fine...

Masanori walked through the bazaar, a large flask of water in his left hand. He took deep sips from it every few seconds, trying desperately to keep his water in his water, by counteracting his water lost to sweat with delicious luke-warm piss flavoured stall water. As his eyes wandered the shop, Masanori's shoulder slammed into something solid. Turning to look, he had nudged another individual in the market, spilling his glass of water and causing him to drop his cigarette. Masanori paused for a moment, eyeing up the scene. He was going to move on before an issue started, but he noticed the stranger's hand drift slowly towards his katana. Masanori instinctively did the same, placing his left hand on the top of his scabbard, his index finger resting against the underside of the tsuba softly, ready to draw at a moments notice. He kept a hold of his flask with his right hand, however, and non-nonchalantly took a sip as they stared at each other, his mind patiently waiting to see if this asshole wanted to make a move.

Mitsuo couldn't believe what had just happened. His glass had just somehow leaped from his hand, along with his smoke, and landed on the ground, splattering all of his water. No that didn't make sense. Someone must have bumped him. But nobody would do that and not apologize for it...or maybe...

He noticed another shinobi staring at him, his hand was positioned on his sword as if he was preparing to fight Mitsuo. Mitsuo assumed this probably had to be the person who had just bumped him. His hands were shaking a little as he went to slide out another smoke from his pack, only to realize he was all out... Well shit...As if this could get any worse... He sighed and looked back at the person glaring at him, placing his hand back on the handle of his trusty Katana and staring down the opponent intently.

"Hey asshole, why don't you watch where you're going? There's more than enough street to go around!" He didn't mean to say those words, but he couldn't really help it at this point, he was just so annoyed. He began to slide his Katana out of his holster a little bit so that the sun would cause a flash off of the blade. People just have no manners anymore, eh nii-san? Damned tourists

"Hey asshole, why don't you watch where you're going? There's more than enough street to go around!" Masanori's left cheek twitched, revealing a canine tooth briefly before dropping down again. As the man's hand met his hilt and began to draw, Masanori thrust his finger up, pulling the sheath out of the sash at his waist as he did so. Within a second, his right hand was wrapped around the hilt, his clay flask now shattered on the street. Masanori's left hand continued back down, pulling the sheath away. His cleverness in preparing a fast draw position ensured he'd have his blade out at least a second or two faster than his opponent. As soon as the blade was free from the sheath, Masanori dragged the blade roughly to the right, dragging it up in a diagonal line, the edge aimed for the right forearm of his opponent. The distance separating them was a metre; more than enough for the 71 cm killing edge on a 8 inch hilt to reach with the assistance of a human arm. As he swung, Masanori's left side of his body swung back, his body pivoting on the balls of his feet. Regardless of if the slash would connect or not, Masanori would bring the blade back, aiming the tip to the sky and the face to the enemy, as well as bringing the left hand up to brace the base of the hilt, just like aunty Azumi taught him.

Mitsuo watched as the sword came out quickly, though not quite quickly enough to combat his own speed. He had time to step back and quickly draw his own Katana in a flash of steel above his head, bringing it slashing down even faster to deflect the swing as it was swung at him.

He left the tip pointed to his opponents toe, noticing he was favoring a high guard and knowing the perfect way to counter the high guard was with a fools guard. He preferred to fight defensively when possible, not wanting to give away too much of his strength to his potential enemy. He figured this was probably another challenger in the Chuunin exams and that there was a chance they would have to fight again, though at this moment he was thinking more of making it so this shinobi wouldn't make it to the exams. The dance of steel was about to begin and to the spectators it would be grand indeed, two skilled swordsmen facing off in a battle to the end.

With his fools guard in place, he was prepared for his opponent's next attack.

Masanori paced back several steps, bringing his blade into the traditional Seigan no Kamae stance he was taught as a boy; the face of the blade to the enemy, tip to the sky. Aunt Azumi always said the face of the blade, a small triangle directly under the tip, was the most polished part, and by showing it to your enemy you were showing off the excellent craftsmanship behind your blade, which honoured the smith, while also honouring the gods. He didn't really care for gods anymore, though. Not since the fire. Walking backwards in controlled, calm steps, Masanori expanded the distance to five metres. At this point, a large circle had formed around the pair, curious onlookers and future exam competitors all clamouring to see what was happening. Masanori's eyes drifted momentarily to the dirt that made up the ground of the market. It was rustic, to say the least, not paved like Yukigakure or Kirigakure. Still, that was good, he could use it to blind his enemy if he had to. After all, there is no honour in combat, only victory, and he never let his enemy have things how they wanted it.

Eyeing up the man, his blade rested casually in merely in his left hand, Masanori saw that he was waiting for him to attack; too bad for him. If he wanted to defend, Masanori would force him to attack, and he could play the waiting game all fucking day.

Mitsuo smiles softly as he faces his opponent, his sword sitting in his left hand. He moves to place his right hand in front of his left, closer to the blade to complete his grip. He doesn't need to look around to catch the onlookers in the corner of his eye, knowing that this will become a spectacle quickly. He also doesn't need to study too hard to realize that if he wants to play defensive, he could be waiting for a while. He decided that he probably didn't have time to wait around though, as he had places he would rather be, assuming that one way or another, he was going to have to make the first move.

As he began to take his first quick step, moving towards his opponent's right side. his hands began to draw up the left hand side of his body, so that they would both be reversed and the blade would be brought into a position where it was point down still but blade towards his opponent. When he had finished closing the gap he used his right hand as a pivot point for his sword and used his left hand as a fulcrum, bringing the blade in an upward slash at his opponent. This happened within seconds of his previous stance. When the move was done his blade would be point up and across his body with his hands low at his left side in a Plow guard.

Spoiler:

Note: I have permission for this auto-hit. I originally wrote the post without it, then sent it to Mitsuo to see if he was alright with me landing any of my attempted attacks; he was.

Masanori was... preplexed by the unusual fighting style this man displayed. It was like he was wielding a broadsword, not a katana. And, assuming he were in a battle of that nature, this would be an effective strike, but as it stands, he left himself open to the most basic of counters out there; he had no way to defend his legs. As he swung, Masanori threw his weight into his left shoulder, dashing forwards to his left, his centre of gravity lowering as he crouched into the step. His left hand broke off the blade, which moved with Masanori as he dodged the strike, the blunt back of the blade running parallel with the forearm of Masanori's right arm, his stance having changed wildly. Masanori's left hand grabbed a clump of dirt, which he flung towards his enemy's face, something he would have to bob backwards to avoid having hit his eyes.

As Masanori expected, his enemy pulled his head, and with it his upper body back violently to avoid the dirt, desperate to not be blinded. This, however, removed any hope he had of blocking the incoming attack. Masasnori punched at the air behind his enemy's right thigh with his right fist, and as his katana was being held along his forearm, it dug into the flesh as it went past, leaving an inch deep gash in the soft tissue of his enemy's outer right thigh, in the centre point between the hip joint and knee joint. Masanori didn't pause, however, and threw his weight into his right shoulder, throwing him forward into a combat roll, which he followed up by kicking off the ground, landing three metres away from his enemy, where he donned his original stance, once again pointing the tip of his blade at the enemy. "If I had chosen to, I could have cut your inner thigh instead, and you would be dead right now." Masanori explained coldly to his enemy. Admittedly, he had decided not to when the opportunity presented itself, though it was just as open as the outer thigh. He didn't want to deal with the bureaucracy of killing a foreign agent in a foreign land, much less start a war. "I suggest you concede while you can."

It stung, it really stung.. It wasn't the first time that he had ever taken a hit like this but Mitsuo never got used to the pain. He stepped back from the nin, holding the gash with his right hand, his Katana staying firmly rooted in his left. He weighed the option presented to him, the pain snapping him back to his sensibility. He really didn't have any intention of fighting before the exams, at the most maybe doing some training with Kichirou but that was about it. He was still getting used to the Katana, it was certainly not his favored weapon as he had been fighting with his tanto since he was a child. He knew that weapon like the back of his own hand and, had he been using it now, he probably wouldn't have taken the hit he just took.

Mitsuo pulled out his Konoha headband from his sash and tied it around the wound to stop the bleeding until he was able to get it healed, cursing himself for being so foolish.  His pride probably hurt more than his leg and he wouldn't be able to deal with the loss for a while but with his swordsmanship being as lackluster as they were he probably wouldn't last long against this opponent.

He stood back up and raised his sword once more in his right hand, his tanto flicking out quickly into his left, where it felt most comfortable.  He may have not have been the superior swordsman, but he sure as hell was stubborn, and he wouldn't be beaten so easily. He took the tanto in a backwards grip, the blade facing his opponent along the top of his forearm and his hand sitting just below his nose on his face, and his Katana was pointed towards the enemy-nin's face, nearly a full arm length out with a small bend to hide his reach. He smiled as he looked into the eyes of his opponent.

"I don't know if you know who I am, friend, but I will tell you. My name is Sarutobi, Mitsuo. Sarutobi never concede, even if the circumstance seems dire, they push through and triumph. You have shown your true colours, and I will not back down from you."


Mitsuo's eyes burned with determination. He didn't want to kill the shinobi, only to prove himself against him now. He was no longer angry, he was merely determined. With these words he waited once more for his opponent to make his move.

"Ho-Aisu, Masanori. I survived the burning of Yukigakure, my home. I fought through the chaos of that day and lived. I will not fall to some pup who knows nothing of the real world." Masanori stepped slowly backwards from his mark, playing this one patiently. He had a trump card, but he didn't intend to use it in a street fight just so everyone could find out he was a Hozuki. His target was weak on his right leg now, the pain would force him to keep his weight off it, preventing powerful pivot strikes and fast moves. Such a small gash, yet so useful for sword play. Masanori took two quick small steps forward, then kicked back, his eyes locked on his enemy's feet as he did it. Yep, he was definitely avoiding putting weight on the injured leg. It was awkward at this point. Even with the injured leg, he could put weight on it briefly to kick off, which lead to an awkward logistical catch 22. Masanori couldn't do any high vertical strikes because he'd just kick off with both legs and plunge that tanto into his chest, but that swing would be the best thing to block two one handed guards. He'd either have to block with one hand and get overpowered rapidly or use both weapons to block, allowing Masanori to step in and sweep his footing, since the position would give Masanori a positional advantage. Still, he lived with the samurai for five years, he could figure this out.

Raising his left hand off the blade, Masanori drew a kunai from his jacket, holding it in the same way as his opponent held his Tanto. Pulling the Tanto wielding hand back, Masanori hooked his left pinky into his pocket, slipping it into the hole in a shuriken, ensuring his body was tilted so that his left side wasn't visible to his enemy. Bringing the Kunai hand forward, Masanori flicked the wrist, firing the shuriken off the fingertip straight towards his target's face. As he did this, Masanori closed the gap, swinging diagonally from the right with his katana. He waited for a moment, looking for a weakness in his guard of his right leg. When he finally spotted a chance as his enemy rose to block the attack, Masanori released his kunai briefly, allowing it to fall just enough for him to invert the way he was holding it into a throwing grip, and with a flick of the wrist throw it towards the centre of his enemy's right thigh, seeking to make the injury worse.

Mitsuo saw the attacks coming towards him and knew exactly what to do. Normally he would leave his jutsu out of a sword match, but his opponent had thrown honour out of the window and he wouldn't have it. He breathed deeply and jumped, exhaling as a great burst of wind pushed him back and redirected the kunai that was thrown at him. He landed on the outside of the crowd of people, falling to his feet, though feeling the pressure at his cut as he did. He knew he wouldn't be able to fight much longer.

"You think I know nothing? My mother died protecting me when I was a child, my brother died in my arms and I could do nothing to save him. Do you know why I am here?" Mitsuo started to limp towards Masanori, his leg bothering him at first but still gradually gaining speed until he was in a full tilt run at him. "I am here because my brother isn't, and I know it's my fault!" He closes the gap quickly, still slightly faster than the average genin when the adrenaline kicked in. He threw his tanto as hard as he could at Masanori's face, forcing him to dodge and give up his footing, and with his right arm he brought the blade of his Katana across his lower abdomen with a 1/2 inch deep slash, his non injured leg acting as an anchor as he swept his injured leg low behind Masanori's knee. He had once defeated his sensei in a similar manor and had hoped that at least one of his attacks would be able to connect here.

Jutsu Used:

Chakra:

Masanori felt a small amount of comradery with his foe as he began to scream his life story at him. He understood the pain, though Masanori had felt it ten times over what he had experienced. since his enemy had used Jutsu to avoid an attack, Masanori felt it was only fair to do the same. As his enemy threw the Tanto, Masanori substituted himself for a small ornamental clay statue on sale in one of the nearby stalls. The basic illusionary properties of the technique cause it to bleed as his blade dug into it's abdomen, gashing blood and intestines as the blade pierced past the fat layer. A moment later, the trick had revealed itself. By then, however, it was already too late for Mitsuo. He was in a blood rage, and as such he was focused solely on what he thought was Masanori, allowing the original to draw four senbon with his left hand, one between each finger, and throw them at once into the soft muscle of the back of his right leg. Mitsuo dropped onto his right knee as the pain hit him, and Masanori rested his blade on his enemy's left shoulder, the edge pressed up against his throat.

"My girlfriend burned alive in the black flames of Amaterasu, I couldn't save her. My aunt, the Yukikage, was beheaded, her naked body pinned up on a fucking cross next to my parents, who died trying to save her. I watched my nation crumble, and when I fled to the Iron Country for help I arrived just in time to watch Himeji Castle fall. You know nothing, you've seen nothing. I am a survivor, you are just a victim." Once he finished speaking in a tone low enough that only his enemy could hear, Masanori pulled his senbon back out of Mitsuo's leg before removing his katana from his throat, stowing both weapons and walking to a nearby [now abandoned] water stall for a drink, still weary of his opponent of course, he didn't want to get stabbed in the back.


Chakra: 145/150

Spoiler:

Mitsuo had been defeated, he knew this and would not go back for more. He resheathed his weapons and painfully made his way to his feet, showing that he was no longer a threat before walking off into the distance to heal his wounds. His pride hurt more than anything and he wouldn't forget this encounter for a few reasons. He and this Masanori shared a lot of common experience, and Mitsuo couldn't help if they had met under different circumstances they could have become friends...But that was not the case. He would beat Masanori the next time he faced him, and he would make him repay him in flesh for the damage done to him.

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