|The Beautiful Assassin, Embodiment of Eternal Beauty|
Migoto walked gracefully through the grasses towards the centerpoint of the training grounds. With his eyes, a light shade of red, staring at the dull appearence in the area. No contrasts, just green everywhere with the exception of perhaps a little of the brown of the trees here and there. No red or blue from perhaps a flower or two. The colors were at harmony but not eye catching like Migoto. The silence also challenged Migoto. Silence meant noone was complimenting Migoto. He took it upon himself to change this and in a rhythmic pattern he composed and rearranged handsigns to create yet another of Migoto's ballads, this one he titled,"Ototon Style: Attack."In a harmonious trim, the sound chakra from Migoto's body began to polish Migoto's already perfect design. It cloaked his hands and feet, cutting the grass with each step taken and slicing the air with each punch thrown.Migoto punched into a nearby tree, rather slowly. Soft, yellow marks were left in alignment instead of a hole or crater. "I will destroy this area and recreate it. There are not enough colors here to compliment each other. The yellow of the inside of the trees and the coal black of the ground I am exposing with each step I take on this grass makes this place more lively. Nature is not art until I interfere." Migoto continued to paint the area until he was sure it was at a tolerable coloring level.
"Some people, no matter how old they get, never lose their beauty - they merely move it from their faces into their hearts. I have moved it on to my body and soul. No longer I need a mirror nor another to tell me of my appearance for I have evolved to a perfect state of eternal beauty."
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