A mighty explosion echoed through the streets and a few shinobi could be seen darting across the rooftops towards the Imperial barracks. It didn't take a tactician to realize that the rebels had decided to make their move. Takeo had told him that he had until tonight to decide where is allegiance lied; perhaps this is what he meant. Well, it didn't matter if the commander was watching, or if anybody was watching for that matter. Tonight Ryozan would prove his loyalty. With that, he stood up and began walking towards the chaos.

"You there!" An Imperial soldier shouted as he pointed at Ryozan. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get inside now!" In a slow, smooth, motion, Ryozan's hand found the hilt of his sword, and before the soldier could react, there was a flash of metal. The soldier was no longer pointing at Ryozan because he was now missing an arm. His eyes went wide and he was about to cry out in pain, but another slash of the shinobi's blade flew across his throat, silencing him forever. Ryozan continued walking forward as if that man had never stood in his way.

More soldiers saw what had happened, and soon a team of four darted into the streets to stop the man that was now unmistakably a rebel. Ryozan paused in his advance and once again, his hand found the hilt of his sheathed sword. His body was tensed up, like a viper ready to strike, as he waited for even the slightest opening. Such an opening came from the youngest of the soldiers, a boy no older than himself, perhaps a year younger. He drew a sword and charged at Ryozan, but novice as he was, he had never seen iaijutsu in practice before... and he never would. Ryozan took a single step forward, and his sword exploded out of its sheath in a metallic blur, tearing through the boys side and rending his vital organs asunder. He would bleed out in a few seconds. That left three more soldiers who took the opportunity to attack their apparently open opponent, but they underestimated how flexile Ryozan's muscles were. Draw, sheathe, draw, sheathe... Ryozan drilled this every day, not allowing himself to practice more advanced techniques until such basics were perfected. So, imagine the looks on their faces when the arm that had just moments ago swung wide open to attack an enemy was now already pulled back far enough to block the barrage of sword strikes that fell down on Ryozan. 

Still, it was three against one, and they would eventually overpower him, but then his free hand made a couple of seals. "Fubuki no Jutsu!" A blast of wind and ice shot out of Ryozan's hand, launching the middle soldier back several feet and convincing the other two to back off. He had not pulled any punches with that attack; large shards of ice were lodged in the soldier's gut and he would die from blood loss soon unless he received medical attention. However, now they saw Ryozan as a serious threat. One soldier blew on a whistle, and the shinobi could hear about a dozen footsteps coming his way. Skilled as he was, there was no way that he could block so many attacks. However... Ryozans hand once again rested on the hilt of his sheathed sword, but that was just an intimidation tactic to convince them to wait for reinforcements. As the soldiers began to surround him, he channeled his chakra through his body. The air about him grew cold, his skin seemed to glisten in the waning sunlight for a moment, and then hundreds of scales of ice burst forth from his body, covering him from head to toe. They did little to restrict his movement, but would offer excellent defense against attacks from all directions. Also, their sharp and jagged edges would make close range combat like fighting a man covered in razors. Ryozan was now surrounded by fourteen soldiers, but he feared only that he might damage his countrymen's property with their skulls.