Post by Konohamaru Sarutobi on Apr 30, 2012 11:03:05 GMT -5
There comes a time where even the greatest warrior knows he's in danger. Konohamaru had been so sure that his ploy would work that he hadn't even considered the fact that Kakashi would see through to its core, and realize that he was not, in fact, choking. In all of the three possibilities outlined above, he had anticipated fooling the Copy Ninja. Whether he disregarded the youth's plight, took advantage of it, or sought to help, he would still be at least somewhat affected by what was happening right in front of him. Yet there the man stood, entirely unphased by the show the boy was putting on, stating outright that he knew Konohamaru was “planning” something. The boy stopped his violent choking for a moment, opening one of his eyes with his puffed-out face now resembling a large blueberry. For a moment, just a single, completely and entirely awkward moment, the youth gazed with this one wide eye at his opponent, judging to see whether he was merely bluffing with his nonchalant response, or if he was actually not fooled. The wind whispered about their heads, tickling the inside of Konohamaru's ears with his own hair, for a moment the only sound being that of nature around them.
Then, as if nature had reached her breaking point and forced those standing on her soil to take action, Konohamaru leapt to react in the best way he could. Although he could not capitalize on Kakashi's hesitations, he could always attempt to defeat him with his superior speed. Moving to grab the shuriken and whirl around, attempting to send it back at Kakashi in a manner quite similar to the way he'd originally thrown it, Konohamaru was surprised to find the ground under him open suddenly, and a pair of hands grab him, seeking to pull him down. The boy had heard the legends, the tales of the living dead that come to seek revenge against their killers. Considering the amount of people he had defeated in his life, this could honestly be anyone. Perhaps it was the boy he'd buried under a pile of sand when he was just a small child, or maybe it was the girl whose hair he had pulled just a year later. Shrieking, the boy sought to evade the grasp of the undead, and keep himself alive just a bit longer, but to no avail. As he heard a voice nearby speak up with the name of a certain jutsu, he looked over at his foe, surprised to see that he was not shocked in the least at this supernatural interference.
The words Kakashi had spoken only processed in the mind of the student after he had been dragged under the ground, buried to his neck. A clone Kakashi had apparently conjured went over to join its master after carrying out this particular attack, and the youth understood suddenly that he had made a fatal mistake. Shinju Zanshu...no Jutsu... The boy's eyes widened once more, suddenly realizing what his fate would be. A decapitation technique...so this is what it had come to. Like so many great figures of the past that had been put to death via the chopping of their head, his visage would soon become a trophy that this man could show off to those around him as proof of his skill.
Come to think of it...Konohamaru wriggled his head slightly, stopping his train of thought to examine the situation. He had been under the impression that the man had pulled him underground via some form of jutsu, but could he have been mistaken? After all, what was he now but a head on the ground? He thought he could feel his body, trapped underneath him, but what if that was merely a trick of the mind? He had heard tales, horrible stories of bodies that remained active long after their head had been severed. What if heads were no different? Was he no more than the head of the great Konohamaru, waiting the final judgment that would inevitably come to a warrior such as him? Attempting to turn his head around so as to see the splendor that was his previous body, he found that he was unable to do so. Heads, he supposed, could not generate enough of a force with what weight they had to move themselves. Thus, he would be denied the privilege that so few had had; the opportunity to see oneself (or, at least, a part of oneself) from the third person. Sighing, he directed his gaze to his opponent, giving him a hard look up and down. Yes. This was a suitable opponent. He had underestimated the Copy Ninja, and had paid for it with his life. There was no shame in dying to the famed shinobi of the Leaf, and as a reward for his success Konohamaru decided he would grace the man's ears with words of wisdom that always came to men and women on their deathbed.
”Congratulations, Copy Ninja Kakashi. You have bested the Great Konohamaru. My time in this place is short, but I want to give you my last request, if you'll hear it.” Taking a deep breath, the boy attempted to be strong in his final moments, as he had seen so many enemy shinobi be up to their dying breath. ”Please tell my team what has happened. Let them know that I wish I could come back to them, but I can't move without my body. Let Moegi know I'm sorry I put that gunk in her hair, and tell Udon not to take any of my things. As for Ebisu...” The youth considered the man who had continually opposed his wishes. What sort of message could he have his opponent deliver to him? ”Forget Ebisu. You don't have to tell them anything else, the rest are all things they know.”
Feeling the cold hand of death creep up on him, the boy's gaze grew fainter, his eyes darkening. ”And now...I have to go...” His tongue slowly crept out of his mouth, and his eyes began to roll back into his head, his awareness of the world fading with the traces of his life. ”Goodbye, Uncle...Do not cry for the death of your hero, but grow into a fine shinobi, just like me. If you ever need me...just look to...the sky...” And with that, Konohamaru passed on, his tongue hanging from his mouth and his head hanging forward, completely immobile; the disturbed ground around them the only tribute to the battle which took the life of Konohagakure's finest warrior.
Then, as if nature had reached her breaking point and forced those standing on her soil to take action, Konohamaru leapt to react in the best way he could. Although he could not capitalize on Kakashi's hesitations, he could always attempt to defeat him with his superior speed. Moving to grab the shuriken and whirl around, attempting to send it back at Kakashi in a manner quite similar to the way he'd originally thrown it, Konohamaru was surprised to find the ground under him open suddenly, and a pair of hands grab him, seeking to pull him down. The boy had heard the legends, the tales of the living dead that come to seek revenge against their killers. Considering the amount of people he had defeated in his life, this could honestly be anyone. Perhaps it was the boy he'd buried under a pile of sand when he was just a small child, or maybe it was the girl whose hair he had pulled just a year later. Shrieking, the boy sought to evade the grasp of the undead, and keep himself alive just a bit longer, but to no avail. As he heard a voice nearby speak up with the name of a certain jutsu, he looked over at his foe, surprised to see that he was not shocked in the least at this supernatural interference.
The words Kakashi had spoken only processed in the mind of the student after he had been dragged under the ground, buried to his neck. A clone Kakashi had apparently conjured went over to join its master after carrying out this particular attack, and the youth understood suddenly that he had made a fatal mistake. Shinju Zanshu...no Jutsu... The boy's eyes widened once more, suddenly realizing what his fate would be. A decapitation technique...so this is what it had come to. Like so many great figures of the past that had been put to death via the chopping of their head, his visage would soon become a trophy that this man could show off to those around him as proof of his skill.
Come to think of it...Konohamaru wriggled his head slightly, stopping his train of thought to examine the situation. He had been under the impression that the man had pulled him underground via some form of jutsu, but could he have been mistaken? After all, what was he now but a head on the ground? He thought he could feel his body, trapped underneath him, but what if that was merely a trick of the mind? He had heard tales, horrible stories of bodies that remained active long after their head had been severed. What if heads were no different? Was he no more than the head of the great Konohamaru, waiting the final judgment that would inevitably come to a warrior such as him? Attempting to turn his head around so as to see the splendor that was his previous body, he found that he was unable to do so. Heads, he supposed, could not generate enough of a force with what weight they had to move themselves. Thus, he would be denied the privilege that so few had had; the opportunity to see oneself (or, at least, a part of oneself) from the third person. Sighing, he directed his gaze to his opponent, giving him a hard look up and down. Yes. This was a suitable opponent. He had underestimated the Copy Ninja, and had paid for it with his life. There was no shame in dying to the famed shinobi of the Leaf, and as a reward for his success Konohamaru decided he would grace the man's ears with words of wisdom that always came to men and women on their deathbed.
”Congratulations, Copy Ninja Kakashi. You have bested the Great Konohamaru. My time in this place is short, but I want to give you my last request, if you'll hear it.” Taking a deep breath, the boy attempted to be strong in his final moments, as he had seen so many enemy shinobi be up to their dying breath. ”Please tell my team what has happened. Let them know that I wish I could come back to them, but I can't move without my body. Let Moegi know I'm sorry I put that gunk in her hair, and tell Udon not to take any of my things. As for Ebisu...” The youth considered the man who had continually opposed his wishes. What sort of message could he have his opponent deliver to him? ”Forget Ebisu. You don't have to tell them anything else, the rest are all things they know.”
Feeling the cold hand of death creep up on him, the boy's gaze grew fainter, his eyes darkening. ”And now...I have to go...” His tongue slowly crept out of his mouth, and his eyes began to roll back into his head, his awareness of the world fading with the traces of his life. ”Goodbye, Uncle...Do not cry for the death of your hero, but grow into a fine shinobi, just like me. If you ever need me...just look to...the sky...” And with that, Konohamaru passed on, his tongue hanging from his mouth and his head hanging forward, completely immobile; the disturbed ground around them the only tribute to the battle which took the life of Konohagakure's finest warrior.