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There were a wide variety of reasons any given person might find him or herself attracted to martial arts. Many simply enjoyed the discipline requires, a chance to break from their disorderly routines in favour of dedication to something other than a TV schedule. Some appreciated the quasi-religious aspects most of the arts carried with them. The concentration, meditative states, moments of cleansing--it was yet another way to express the fanatical modern mind. Then there were those who needed the outlet, the hours of violent aggression, the time and space to channel their primal urges into something comparatively safe and free of the 'blood' part of 'blood lust.'

Zetsu simply saw it as an opportunity for great potential. After a certain number of deaths, the fight itself became a quietly disconnected moment; styles and form and drills melted into the idea of bodies in motion. Coming to an event like this did very little for the administrator's adrenaline. Instead, it was a veritable buffet of talent, an opportunity to browse the region's youth for anyone of potential interest. Thus far, Hibiya Park was falling short of anything like exciting.

Half of his attention wandered toward the next exhibition of interest: the archers. Kyuudo had never been any particular favourite of his, but it was certainly worth glancing over. Moving with the quiet unerring steps of a man who steps lightly without thought, Zetsu took up his station like an obedient observer, prepared as always to be completely underwhelmed by what he saw.