Chika was terrified of what had happened in the arena. Less than 5 minutes earlier, Okuri was on his deathbed, being disintegrated by Taro’s weapon. Now Taro was on the defensive side, and Okuri wasn’t showing any sign of relenting. She should have been relieved, but Okuri’s body prevented her from feeling so. It looked more canine than it usually did, as if warped by a malevolent spirit. She searched her memories for an explanation of how or why this possibly could’ve happened.
“Okuri?”
The dog-like boy turned his head to the tied up Chika. Having failed the bell test, she had been denied meals for the entire day. Perhaps he would show her sympathy……
Her hopes fell when she saw last of his noodles slide through his lips and into his seemingly endless gut. “What?” He asked innocently, oblivious of his own gluttony.
Itachi softly sipped the broth of his soup. “You selfish pig, she was hoping you had saved some for her.”
“I’m not selfish, I’m hungry!”
A small argument started, one that could neither be won by Okuri (who had the bigger voice and stronger will) or Itachi (who had the bigger vocabulary and stronger argument). To distract herself from the conflict, Chika started to focus on the world around her: the trees, the birds, the grass, the very air which she breathed. A squirrel climbed down out of a tree and scampered to her feet. He looked at her beseechingly, begging her for bread crumbs with his eyes. “Sorry little fellah” she whispered to him. “I don’t have any food either.”
With no warning, Okuri’s hand grabbed the squirrel and crushed its spine, reducing it to a limp corpse. He raised his hand to his mouth and bit the squirrel’s head off, taking the rest of the body in the second bite. Chika sat there, stunned by this random act of brutality, while Itachi shook his head and ceased his argument.
“Fine then. You’re hungry.”
Chika would never forget the expression on Okuri’s face that day. The bloodthirsty way it had grimaced as the vicious joy of the kill took over Okuri’s mind. Then, he had killed a squirrel and eaten it, simply because he was hungry. Now, he was out for human blood. Before, Chika had always believed that Okuri was a sweet boy with an animalistic side that reared its ugly head every now and then. But now, as Okuri grew more and more violent with every passing second, she began to wonder who the real Okuri was.
5 minutes of continuous pounding, and still the totem stood. Frustrated, Okuri pulled a man-sized piece of rock out of the ground. Taro began to mock him again. “Ha! Nice pet rock you got there! Did your mommy give it to you because you couldn’t have a puppy like the rest of your clan?” Ignoring the comment, Okuri focused on a point behind Taro. A pensive look spread across his face. He angled the rock carefully before throwing it with all his might.
Taro’s face turned to a horrified expression. Okuri had just angled the rock so that it never came within ten paces of the top dragon head’s - until it made 45 degrees with the upper jaw. The rock had flawlessly bypassed his defence. Flustered, he destroyed the rock with his naginata.
Seeing the rock shatter restored some of his confidence. That rock would’ve broken almost every bone in his body. Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve. His thin smile returned to his face. But it immediately faded when he realized that the fight was as good as over.
Okuri laughed ruthlessly, as a wolf would laugh when he had a rabbit cornered (if wolves could laugh, that is). He knew that the dragon heads couldn’t hit everything he threw at Taro. Somewhere, there was a funnel shaped area where they couldn’t touch him. Now he had found it. He had already won.
Taro cursed himself for using a jutsu with a weakness that was so….weak. He had never counted on Okuri finding it; he had never counted on Okuri thinking at all! How could he think in such a bestial form? But it was over now. If Okuri could throw one rock, he could throw a thousand! And Taro could only block so many!
Okuri bent his knees and Taro realized that he was finished throwing stones. Okuri leapt forwards, following the trajectory of the rock he had thrown. Taro leapt away fearfully, mere splinters of seconds before Okuri landed on the totem. It shattered on impact, and Okuri hurdled after Taro. Taro landed softly on his feet, but Okuri’s tackle threw him off balance and planted his face in the ground. The larger combatant threw the other across the arena effortlessly, and the walls shook on impact.
“DAMNATIONS!” Takayuki yowled. “Call him off Sarutobi! This has gone too far!”
“It went too far when your son conjured up the family lightning pole. I didn’t see anyone stop the match there.” The Kazekage snapped. “If you really think the boy needs to be saved, do it yourself. If you’re really worthy of your title, are you not the most qualified to do so?”
The Jounin refereeing the match silently crept up to the kage’s seats and subtly whispered in his superior’s ear. “I’ve sent for the ANBU, sir. They should be here any minute.”
To which Sarutobi answered “Make sure the boy’s father gets here. If anyone knows how to handle this beast, it is him.”
Taro was shaking from head to toe. Okuri was playing with him; lurching forward to see him react, to see the terror in his eyes. So confident he was of victory, that he afforded himself time and energy to torment his opponent, and reveled in sadistic pleasure the fear gave him.
