[center][color=#F2F2F2][h3][u][b]Tsuki-sha, Kyūsai[/b] - [i]The Ashen Harlequin[/i][/u][/h3][/color][/center]
Seeming to totally ignore the exchange between the two, Kyūsai took the pieces of equipment as they reached him, neither snatching nor taking them graciously. He was an odd juxtaposition to the other two, one being lazy, and the other practically never being serious in the least. He was neither of those things, not in the slightest. When the next twelve kunai rushed at them, and were summarily deflected by an unknown force once more, Kyūsai slashed his arm with a shuriken, blood getting on the weapon as he did so.

The wound immediately swelled, released a strange puss-like fluid, then sealed up, the liquid disappearing in the same moment it healed, perhaps pulled into the wound as it closed. There wasn't even a scar. [color=#F2F2F2][b]"Pachid, Arina stay within the cloud, please"[/b][/color] he said with a calm smile on his features.

He then threw the smoke bomb down, placed the explosive tag on his right arm and grasped the shuriken in his left hand. The next kunai that appeared was batted away and he disappeared from the cloud of smoke.

There were sounds of clashing weapons, rupturing flesh, almost always followed by screams of terror. An explosion went off somewhere outside the smoke, and then all went silent.

The smoke cleared.

Kyūsai was standing 10 meters ahead of them, his right arm blown clear off, but not bleeding in the least. It had sealed off into a stump and that same puss was gradually exuding from a tiny slit in the stump. It was dripping downwards and with each passing second part of his arm reformed.

He still had the shuriken, which was now coated in gore. His clothes were similarly covered with blood and debris. Still smiling, as if he were merely enjoying a cup of tea and watching clouds pass, Kyūsai let the shuriken drop. The two would, accidentally, blink in unison and as their eyes opened Kyūsai's clothes would be spotless. He glanced back at them with the same smile, [color=#F2F2F2][b]"Come, we've nearly arrived. Oh, and please...mind the bodies."[/b][/color] Around them were strewn over thirty six shinobi, most of them disemboweled or sheered open. Some of them were missing limbs...or a head. Still, despite this, there wasn't any blood. Fluids leaking from their innards, sure, but blood...not in the slightest.

The skin of the many corpses was pale and sickly. If one looked closely they might even see fading lines of reddish hue. If the sun hadn't been out their faint glow would have been visible, but in these conditions it was not.

Kyūsai, taking no mind to the destruction left in his wake, turned away, his back facing them, before walking towards Amegakure once more.

This had been the sixth assassination party.

It had been the sixth failure.

It wouldn't be the last.