[Gima Naoya]

Iron coated every taste bud as Naoya half-coughed half-spat an arc of blood onto the damp earth beside his head. In his gut was a clenched fist, curling into the young boy’s form before drawing back, coiled behind a toad-of-a-man’s unfortunate head. A toothy grin was smeared across his face as he looked down at his victim, Naoya, a defenseless academy student pinned to the ground.

You could tell in the assailant’s figure and disposition that he was a washout, the headband around his neck proving he was at least a genin but his attitude and chosen target implied he had been so for a long time. Whatever it was Naoya had done was unknown to the kid on the ground. Though, often the boy’s wordlessness came across as indolence to the particularly insecure.

It was pretty obvious he wasn’t fighting back either. His arms didn’t tense beneath the mass above him and he didn’t snap remarks at his foe or spit in his face. The last thing he wanted was for this to get any worse. He didn’t get the impression anyone was around, or, if someone was quietly observing, that they cared enough to intervene. You’d have trouble finding an academy student brave and/or stupid enough to pick a fight with a genin, no matter how pathetic they were.

But, despite his resignation, Naoya wasn’t afraid of this guy. His eyes were fiery and he made no attempt to avert his gaze. His form tensed just before each punch, trying to steel himself against the onslaught; somewhere, burning deep within his gut, he wanted to fight back.

Jinjōi Chiyo

[Jinjōi Chiyo]

Chiyo was on her way home. 

After-academy chores at the Araikettei compound were ... uneventful. She mostly was helping her parents around the mansion, with small chores that one could entrust to a child. But, they still had more work to do, and she had to get ready for the next day at school. And also do chores at her own home. And cook dinner for family for when they'd finally come home late. It was a busy day. So much so, Chiyo actually looked forward to classes tomorrow. At least, then she'd be doing something she enjoyed doing. Chores and servant work were ... less enjoyable.

The girl wore her dark-purple kimono - the same she wore to the Academy. She was very proud of it, as it made her look samurai-like. It came with a turquoise sash, and a scabbard, inside of which was her wooden sword she used for classes, spars, and everything else, really! Not a weapon - academy students weren't allowed steel. But a hefty stick nontheless.

That stick would soon come in handy. As she was passing by her favorite training grounds, she heard grunts, and sounds of something hard hitting something soft and fleshy. Raising an eyebrow, unable to quite identify the source, she turned around corner, to see what it was. It sounded like someone was mashing potatoes. 

In fact, it was someone mashing someone's face in.

'What... what is he...'

Chiyo froze. She saw blood on the ground. She also saw a boy on top of another boy, beating him up, with a vile, violent smirk on his face. He was bigger than her. He had a headband. The boy on the floor didn't. The girl recognized him as one of the boys from her academy. 

'So this is what losing a fight looks like...'

Chiyo swallowed. To her shame, the first emotion she felt at the picture was not that of anger or righteous indignation. It was fear. Fear that she, if intervened, might not win that fight. And then it would be her on the ground, getting her face punched in. Come to think of it, Chiyo had never lost a fight. Not a serious one, at least. Chasing boys her age with a stick, for fun, was one thing. This was ... another. All these thoughts went through the girl's head in a few moments, that were likely very long for the unfortunate victim. Her hand was on the hilt of her bokken. Her knuckles whitening. 

'What would... what would a brave samurai do?'

She knew the answer. And so, she drew her wooden blade.

_"Hey..." - Chiyo called out, but it was so quiet the word stuck in her dried out throat. She inhaled, and tried again, much more firmer, this time.

"HEY! WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?! YOU LET HIM GO!"

The girl yelled from behind, at the top of her lungs. Maybe if she yelled loud enough, she'd scare the bully into fleeing.

[Gima Naoya]

Bullies, like the behemoth of a man sitting atop Naoya, were often cowards when met with any real confrontation. They would buckle and run if their superiority was truly questioned without recourse; without some goons behind them to back them up. And for a brief moment, the thought crossed the lummox's mind. Until he saw the new arrival.

Chiyo stood defiant against the man's cruelty and all he could muster, as he appraised her, was a laugh. She didn't look a day older than the kid he'd been beating on and, after a quick scan for a headband, didn't appear to be a genin yet either. If she did try and mess with him, she'd struggle to overwhelm him. "Buzz off, twerp." He grunted, a shaky but imposing depth to his voice as he spoke.

If Chiyo was alone, and the bully had the mind to fight her off, she would have some real trouble dealing with him. His headband alone boasted at least some experience in life or death combat, likely quite frequent at that given the times they were in, and he was armed with far more lethal weapons. But Chiyo wasn't alone.

The momentary distraction offered Naoya enough wiggle room to squeeze a bit free and act. His hand reached out for his own bokken, which had been cast to the side at the start of the pair's scuffle, searching blindly on the damp earth before closing around the familiar wooden blade. His arm snapped back, free of its pin, and Naoya brought the butt of the weapon to connect square with the bully's jaw.

The heap of a man jumped back, not having expected any resistance from the kid and getting blindsided for it. And it was true that Naoya never meant to offer any resistance. But the new arrival's confidence had inspired his and, despite the obvious imbalance in skill, he was prepared to defend himself. He shot an expectant look at his new comrade, awaiting some guidance as to whether they'd stay and fight or make a run for it.

Their enemy looked quite rattled, a thin trail of blood marring the corner of his mouth, and, despite his obvious rage at having been struck by a little kid, he looked unconfident. He would likely fight if only to defend whatever shreds of pride remained within him, but he didn't exactly come across as the valiant and steadfast type.

Jinjōi Chiyo

[Jinjōi Chiyo]

The perp was not frightened off. 

Shouldn't be too surprised. He was an adult by now, he was bigger and stronger. And Chiyo was just a kid, armed with a wooden sword. She needed a plan B. Quick. Maybe say something about how she's seen his face and would tell... Maybe drop the Araikettei name into the mix to scare him off. You didn't mess with rich clans, after all. Gah, so fearful, and so stupid! But better than trying one's chances in a fight, right?

And then victim fought back.

Looked at her, with a silent plea for help. Foolish Chiyo, look what you done. He was taking a beating just now, resigned to his fate. Now you've given him hope. And in doing so, you escalated the fight. There was no way back now, no negotiations. Her feverish mind saw only one way this could end. The boy was gonna be beat within an inch of his life if he lost. Which was why she needed to help. It was the right thing to do. The only way to win this. And so, Chiyo took a deep breath, and then...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The girl bellowed a battlecry as she launched herself forward. Though it was less of a cry and more of a shriek, like nails against chalkboard. Her feet carried her forward with abandon. Strike now, strike fast, strike hard, while her foe is rattled. THEIR foe. It was two against one, maybe they could do this! Chiyo did not know any combat jutsus, but she knew how to swing a stick. Hers was raised above her head, telegraphing a downwards swing. Which, at the very last moment, was changed into a horizontal strike, with the lowering of the blade to the left and a turn of a corpse. 

But it was not the only strike. She'd just... keep going. Wailing at him with the stick, going high, low, high, middle... Anywhere really. Hopefully, buying the kid enough chance to do something, anything!

We're in this together now.

[Gima Naoya]

So they would fight.

As if it were planned, Naoya charged in with the girl's battle cry, holding his wooden sword out to his side with his eyes glued to their target. The man was no easy target; standing roughly six feet tall and nearly as wide, but his attention was split between the two kids. Chiyo's shout demanded far more attention as she rushed in. Meanwhile, Naoya rounded behind the guy to try and get an advantageous position. Initially, he considered mimicking the same relentless assault his fellow student had employed, but, from where he stood, he might be able to do something to draw his ire and allow Chiyo the same freedom of choice he had.

Whatever experience the genin had, it hadn't prepared him for Chiyo. His arms flew upward to block the overhead chop, braving the wooden strike and praying it didn't stun him so much that he couldn't launch a counterattack; how he wanted to crush these pesky flies that buzzed about his head. But the overhead strike never came. Instead, he took a meaty smack to his side and curled instantly.

A low groan fell between them as he recoiled, but it wasn't over head. Soon came the flurry of strikes, each one hitting and leaving a large red mark where they did. It seemed to be doing good work, until the man began to straighten out. Like being sprayed with a garden hose, it only lasted as long as someone took to realize they could just muscle out the shock and grab the source, halting the onslaught.

And he would have, had Naoya not taken the opportunity to leap up on the man's shoulders, brace his bokken around the man's throat with each end held firmly on either side of his head, and squeeze. Naoya wasn't the strongest kid and knew no killing technique, so this was less of an execution and more of an annoyance, but it certainly drew the oaf's attention.

Jinjōi Chiyo

[Jinjōi Chiyo]

'Oh no...'

The onrush of adrenalin was guiding Chiyo's blows, sending her into a frenzied flurry, up until the moment that large hand snapped around the haft of the wooden blade. Had it been steel, this man would have been sliced and diced. But this was a mere training tool. A toy. Meant to hurt, but not do much damage. And now, she couldn't even do that. The girl pulled on the weapon with both hands, only to discover it was not enough to overpower one.

"Hnhhh... let... go..." 

It would have been the end. Or the beginning of a brutal beating. But the boy she was trying to rescue jumped from behind, going to choke the bully out with his own wooden sword. It was a distraction! But ... certainly, not enough to make the genin unhand her stick. Still, it was enough for an opening. An opening any girl should exploit.

"UGH... I SAID... LET GO!"

With that, she kicked the big guy right in the groin, aiming to land the hit with the edge of her wooden sandal. And she wouldn't stop! She'd keep kicking there until their foe would crumple, or until he'd punt her away. Maybe it could get the bully hurt enough to let go of her sword, and let both her and the other kid make a run for it! 

'I'm not sure we could actually beat this guy... He took my blows and didn't even keel...' 

Giving the boy on the big guy's shoulders, Chiyo yelled:

"Hit him on the ears!"

She took a blow on the ear once. it hurt... a lot.