Tales of a Ninja Magician: Of Where We Come From

When Gods Arm Wrestle

"Wind Style: Flock of Swallows!" Poncho assassin roared out with an equal amount of conviction. He drew his sword too early, initially, it appeared as a mistake for Shimo but then he understood that the actual sword was not the dangerous part of the technique, it was a cause to what was to come. Once drawn, the chakra infused blade created a gust of wind flowing one direction, meanwhile using his sheathe holding hand the man formed a hand seal which allowed him to create another current of wind that moved the opposite direction. The man had created a miniature typhoon inside the office room.

Even faced with such an amazing yet seemingly simplistic technique Shimo did not flinch for a moment, the young man continued to dash at his opponent with his technique. Tanshu once told him that no sword technique could have matched the triple cutting techniques he used, the vortex of cutting winds appeared quite formidable but at best it would match Shimo's technique, not break it. Even if their swordsmanship techniques were dead even there was still the ninjutsu wolf made of ice chakra. Shimo was going to win!

A deafening howl followed by a crashing noise followed as the two clashed with their techniques. The poncho assassin's facial cover and his poncho tore to bits, Shimo's body tensed and blacked up in multiple spots and his arms almost blew up in a bloody mess from the sheer pressure of their swords clashing, while initially, the poncho assassin was smiling, soon his smile faded from his face once he realized that Shimo's apparently singular draw actually cut at three spots at once perfectly blocking poncho's typhoon of swordsmanship. Then the man's eyes quickly shifted up but couldn't form a definitive emotion instead of running through a myriad of them before understanding that his fate was not to escape – it was to freeze solid. Such an ironic end in the middle of a desert village...

Bang!

Shimo's Ice Wolf avatar of chakra behind him exploded into shards of icicles and a kunai that shattered it fired from a long-range dispenser fell onto the floor, the two swordsmen dashed past one another with Shimo falling on his knees and thrusting his sword into the floor to keep his body from hitting the floor and passing out. That sword was the only thing that kept the young Yuki on his knees and breathing.

"There's a second man... Outside the office..." Shimo huffed out as sweat broke out through his forehead combining with the blood already going down the boy's forehead and the back of his head.

"What can I say?" the poncho assassin replied with a cocky expression while he sheathed his blade and looked back at the boy who was in no condition to stop him now, "While my origins are as those of a samurai of the Iron Country, the Shaphac are no samurai and do not follow the Bushido, they are actually terrorists. I am under no moral obligation to face you honorably. In my defense, my ally outside is a blind marksman. Think of it what you will..." The man replied turning away only to face a large man who appeared to blink into existence seemingly out of nowhere, dressed in a white cloak with a blue hat that had a great hieroglyph proudly stating "Wind" on its center.

The bulky arm of the interloper swiped to the side, in mid-strike steel parts assembled a set of armour around his arm that sent the poncho assassin flying through the side wall, after the assassin burst through the wall, passing out from the combined damage taken from the intense and almost instant-fast hit and hitting the wall, the armoured hand of the interloper fired off and grabbed the man dragging him back to the hulking brute's grasp.

"I think it's hilarious, personally..." Akasuna Mugao grinned at the young man who just barely managed to stand back up and face the Kazekage.

It was quite convenient that Shimo was already on his knees, after all, kneeling against a person of such high stature may have been the proper manners however most foreign ninja chose to merely bow their heads to their mid abdomen level suggesting great respect but not subordination.