You dimly remember a story from a past life. It was supposed to be a tale of the impossible, spoken by a Nobleman who never achieved much. His tales of impossible animals and wondrous travels were intentionally inconsistent, a joke. And here you are, recreating one of his most famous trips.
The Nobleman used an cannonball. You weren't so pedestrian. No, you were currently standing with one foot on a rocket, the other ready to catch another one if need be. You had thirty seconds until your ride exploded, but the celebration would go on for at least another hour. Plenty of rockets to catch. Besides, in twenty seconds you'd be over the target.
Shinobi umbrellas are heavy things, and not often used in your village. Hidden swords, more senbon than you can shake a stick at... No, not for you. Yours is a proper black dome umbrella, ninety one and a half centimeters in diameter, with a shaft eighty four centimeters in length. There was nothing really special about it, aside from the fact that it was yours. And that it was made from the finest silk the Aburame Clan had to offer. Despite this, people spoke of it as though it were a legendary weapon.
The Umbrella of the Wind. Even if the peacock head was cute, if it ever broke, you'd just get a new-one. You had to before.
You stepped off the rocket and charged the umbrella with your chakra as you opened it. It caught more than it's fair share of wind, and cushioned your fall. You drifted as a leaf on the wind, except with considerably more control. This wasn't particularly difficult, if you were honest. The hard part was taking off from the ground. Your unparalleled control of your chakra allowed you do things usually left to spiders. Like
flight. It took so much energy to attain lift, but it was doable.
You caught the edge of the tower with a foot and walk along it for a moment, putting away your umbrella. This was a terror mission, of sorts. Assassinate a businessman, ensure that his associates never cheat Konohagakure again. And make everyone else aware that no one was safe. As far as the man's inner-circle was concerned, there would be no survivors. This included the body guards.
Most shinobi disliked tight corridors, but you had learned to love them. Likely the same day that gravity ceased to matter to you. Obstructions ceased to matter, really. The wall was the same as the floor and the ceiling more-so. Even your fellow shinobi don't think to look up, and it's trivial to reach down and lop their heads off if they're not paying attention. Not that you always bothered. A kunai launched with your chakra alone could easily pass all the way through a person.
Really, you were killing time as well as cannon fodder. You wanted people to know what was coming, even as you charged down hallways, across ceilings, and up walls. He was going to know fear before he died.
You almost felt bad for the ones you actually had to touch. One got within arm's reach, and you gently put a hand on his face. Palm open, it would have looked tender if it weren't for what happened next. The Hyūga are known for injecting small amounts of their own chakra into their foes to create severe internal damage. You could probably do that. Instead you, you simply attracted his to yours. You glued his skin to your own, the way you'd glue yourself to the wall. And then you began to move.
The screaming man became almost a part of you before his skin ripped off. His neck broke soon after, so it wasn't as cruel as it could have been. But anyone who found the body would know. If anyone found the body. His friends weren't much luckier, really. The Taijutsu specialists had it worst, as touching you meant either you bound them to you, or you violently disrupted the limb. Neither was pretty.
Finally, you got to the room you were looking for. You knew, because your gentle knock was answered with a hail of bullets. Spendy toys, guns. Still, they were aiming for someone standing on the floor, not the ceiling. You let yourself in once the gunfire stopped. It takes so long to reload...
You pounced through the smoke, and laid hand on the desk. While you could likely have picked up the entire thing, that wasn't your plan. The papers on it slid violently toward you, attracted like iron filings to a magnet. They slid into shape, forming a blade. You raked it across where your target should be. The chakra infused paper sword, only five microns thick and hard as steel, sliced into something, but you knew it was not the man.
You willed the smoke away with a fluctuation of chakra. As you'd suspected, you were surrounded. Your target laughed behind you. "Even you cannot win against my strategy! You never should have come alone!"
You laughed as well. "I didn't."
Outside, the fireworks reached their climax. The building shook, and began to rise. The big finish was about to start. The explosion that rocked the building caused the ground to heave and everyone but you to stumble. The floors cracked. The target was the first to die. The others tried to escape, but you chased them. The falling rubble was as easy to traverse as the stairs, even as you bounced and spun. Gravity hadn't really mattered for years. You gathered loose paper, ever expanding your whip.
The floor became the walls as the building tipped to the side, and still you strode through it as though it were another day at the office. The last man had a Human Kite sealed away. Feeling playful, you used the papers you had been gathering and flew after him. The dust blinded him, but did nothing to you. He dropped into the reservoir, and you followed.
Water was as easy as anything else. Easier, really. You just propelled yourself along, swimming faster than anything had the right too. He didn't last long.
And when you came out the other side, you weren't even wet. The Umbrella of the Wind carried you back to the meeting point, where you greeted Mariko with a smile. "Nice work with the explosives. I couldn't have done it without you!"
Somehow, despite the years you'd hated each other, you'd become close. Then again, what else should be expected of the God of Attraction?
