Commitments, commitments! The idea of something so close to obligation, yet so, so far away. I had committed to attending a small orchestra performance with a few of my platoon members, but as usual, found something more engaging in the time between promise and future. Not that it was difficult to be more interesting than the musicians in Kirigakure - most of them sing drunk shanties for hours on end.
"So, a cut from underneath aimed at the upper left..." I traced the intent of the words with the edge of my sword, slowly following the trail against a hay dummy. On my way to the venue - notedly, a very roundabout way - I found a bookshop toting some rare, older kenjutsu script. Something Seven Dragoons? The cover looked like shit, and some of the text was illegible, but it was interesting enough to buy.
A frown creased as I sheathed my blade, turning back to the book. An errant flip of the page, eyes scanning back and forth. No real theory on footwork... Wonder if that means I could use most of these from varied positions. Staring at a diagram, I began to trace the stance with an idle finger, movement catching the corner of my eye.
The training area setup was fairly public, being a short offshoot no more than a few dozen feet from the main road. A main road that, miraculously, carried an unfortunate combination of person and time. Lifting myself up from hunching over the tome, my brow raised, a fake pitch of excitement to follow. "Ah, Asura! Nice to see you."
The thought continued to roll around in his head like a command on loop, the day having greeted Asura with little more than the right to breathe and the necessity of interaction. A small, purple ocarina rest in the Chuunin's hands as he walked, nimble digits moving with precision as full lips shaped themselves to the instrument's opening. He played a soft tune that had completely stolen his attention, every note echoing and resounding throughout his mind as if devouring the flames of turmoil that so consistently raged within. Silver hair flowed against the gale, his trek a meaningless one upon the main road. He was simply seeking solace, this his coping mechanism for all that the Hyuuga Clan stirred when his training took place. How fortunate he was to have escaped their clutches for the day. Intent upon mastering the song, there was naught to disturb the intensity of his focus.
Or at least, one would have thought.
The excited voice hadn't exactly startled Asura, more snapping him back to reality as his footfall stuttered for but a moment. Feline eyes shifted toward the source of greeting: a Genin of Kirigakure. And an odd-looking one, at that. Despite the greeting, Asura's countenance showed no visible change. He lowered the ocarina until the instrument rest in the palm of one hand, the other simply dangling as the Hyuuga regurgitated some form of happy - practiced - response.
"...Hello.." he began. What was his name again? ...Nomura," Asura stated as swiftly as his memories would allow. There was little concern as to how the Genin before him would take his lack of remembrance. In an attempt to smooth the encounter, the Hyuuga changed subjects and gestured a hand toward the book. "Reading up on something important?" The question was accompanied by a slight raise of his eyebrows, a reminder inwardly that appearing inquisitive and invested drove the parameters of conversation to better places.
Bags of sand rest comfortably at the outer perimeter of the training area, the Chuunin silently remembering that he'd escaped his training earlier. Perhaps, with a little ingenuity, he could create a makeshift session in which he'd train far away from their scrutiny. If naught else, the afternoon skies that hosted billowing clouds of various shapes would offer him an aesthetically pleasing backdrop to his day.
Definitely a psycho. the thought echoed quietly, the absent minded response not doing my elder much of a favor. "Something like that." A faint nod across the back of my shoulder at the open pages - "Flipping through a neat kendo book."
My sight would turn back to the Hyuga, noting the small ornament - or was it an instrument? - in his hand. A brief flare of guilt, although it was more of a nagging annoyance, lit up my mind. Not long, not bright, but still a faint crease in the corner of my mouth as a frown had almost started to form. "What about you?" I chimed, the silence between words eerily still.
"I figured you'd be at the - ah, what was it called again?" the words slipped from my tongue, struggling against the back of my teeth to reclaim them. A finger held in the air, requesting silence as syllables collided into one another behind closed eyes. Ar-ir-ur-or--ork-orc-orch- Yeah, yeah, orchestra.
"The orchestra going on." I pointed back to the main road, a hand idly resting on my sword hilt. Unintentionally, might I add. "Always took you for one of those 'music buffs'." a faint hint of sarcasm hanging on the edge of the words. "Wait, wait a minute -" his reaction finally catching up;
Asura's features yet again remain unchanged, though inwardly he was caught upon a snag. To have dangled between offense that Nomura struggled with the grand composition of orchestra and then to have audibly called his lack of remembrance into question. The Hyuuga could feel those claws scratching from beneath the surface, attempting to rend the psychological walls of his patience and eviscerate his peer. The war waged on silently, Asura opting instead to tap idly against the open holes of his ocarina. No sooner than when Nomura's question slipped out and into open air did Asura step past him, his hope that the gesture would afford him a silent forgiveness for ignoring the Genin's question.
"The Orchestra.." Asura pretended to ponder. "That was today, wasn't it?" he asked, laying on another thick layer of deception. He'd complete the act with a soft shake of his head, feigning interest in Nomura's perception. "I suppose that I am. Today, however, is a day for training. To that end.." Asura trailed off. Protest or none, he ambled forward and crouched to inspect the bags of sand that rest along the perimeter of the training ground.
"Why not put the words in your book to practice?"
His intentions were clear. The Chuunin had longed to begin his training with the Sand Release, though he only had his family to instruct him in its uses. The plethora of teachings that he'd sat through began to filter through, so long and winding that even his inner beast could find respite in its boredom. Asura turned toward Nomura, hands gesturing outward toward the whole of the grounds. "Surely, hitting moving opponents that fight back has to be better than sitting on the sidelines and watching."
Didn't even acknowledge the question. I almost had a huff, and even a bit of a fit. It would've been funny! But not the time.
My gaze would shift, twice. First, back at the book; then, back at the Hyuga. Almost repeating the gesture a few more times to drive the point home, but that felt like overkill. "Two reasons." I began, index finger rising to the sun.
"I don't have any fake swords." the finger turning to the weapon on my hip, "and that will kill you. my tone curdling for a moment, although the smile didn't falter. Before Asura could raise any questions, I'd force the narrative forward.
"Second," another finger shot up, "You don't have any fake swords." Nodding towards the instrument he held. "That thing not-withstanding. And!" turning on my heel, I started to walk back towards the tome. "I am not covering another hospital bill because someone wanted to "train" with me."
Heavy air quotes joined the words, a faint sigh under my breath. Already have to deal with... Shit, two? of those. Cursing under my breath, I shook my head, attempting to go back to the book.
Last he'd checked, the Hyuuga was more than capable of handling himself.
It was clearly the underestimation of an overzealous swordsman, a consistent occurrence that came with those who had so-called "dedicated" themselves to the art of the blade. But Asura had no such necessity. His very hands were far more lethal, the Byakugan offering up the Tenketsu of his opponents and exposing them to the Gentle Fist style of fighting. An eyebrow lofted as Nomura took to his flimsy excuses. His words flowed through one ear and out of the other. As he turned his back, the corner of Asura's lips began to turn upward into a rueful smile. "Unfortunate."
Handseals were performed once his ocarina was carefully tucked away, a small string that yielded sudden motion from within the bags of sand that sat around. With greater intensity they began to shake and shift, evident to the swordsman if he were paying adequate attention to his surroundings. Chakra rose to the surface of his focus. As if on cue, the bags began to explode one by one. Innumerable grains began to coalesce and dance through the air, though the practice that the Hyuuga had put into motion was hardly what one would call expert.
"But we can improvise."
The sand jumped to life and began to converge from multiple directions onto Nomura's tome. So forceful was that small display that the text was easily scooped up and shifted, flipping about in the air and out of Nomura's reach. A single, flimsy pillar wobbled and shook.
"Don't be so concerned with me. Worry more about yourself," Asura began. Once more, the sand shifted and toppled over. The tome's intended target was Nomura's head, sand accompanying it to pelt his features with grain and parchment alike. "Don't disappoint me.....Genin." That last word laced with the reminder that he outranked Nomura.
With my back turned, the Hyuga continued to prattle on. 'Worry this' 'Worry that'; mimed words help under my breath, mocking with the open and close of a hand. There wasn't going to be a compelling enough argument the man could pull out of his ass, I didn't -
Sand? One of the weight bags had burst, a piddling spray of sand across the tome interrupting my thought. A flare of anger shot up from the recesses of my gut, a deep, long breath helping to quiet it. Yet the pinch of my finger on the page, the tightness in my neck, it wouldn't go away. A curse under my breath, faint murmurs that the other wouldn't hear; turned quick into a single outburst.
"Alright, fine!" I yelled, a deep frown creasing the corner of my mouth. A hand joined with the hilt of my blade, exhaling heavily as I turned to face him. My other hand slowly reached for the sheath, a furrowed brow being the only glare the man'd receive. "You're overestimating yourself."
Heaven and dragons, so this...
My left knee bucked, weaving the motion forward as my body collapsed. The right shot out, darting my movement further as Iachi met with air, a full draw exiting with the movement. The trajectory started towards his legs, rising with an uppercut as my footing and stance realigned itself to standing. If it was successful, Asura would find his face slashed open.
Like a thin, frayed knot, the restraints of the beast within were snapped with ease. The plunge had rewarded him with a carnal desire, a twist of impatience that sewn shut the mouth of reason. The exclamation of Nomura's agreement was followed by swifter handseals, this time the sand shifting with greater speed and joining the fray from the Hyuuga's southern flank. The waves converged in a defensive manner, rushing upward from beneath him with an intensity, a speed born from defiance and instinct. While his sparring partner's attempt was one of swift maneuver, the Hyuuga had ensured the proximity of the sandbags and his advantage in drawing closer to them. The movement was accentuated with a kick backward from his foot, placing distance betwixt himself and the impressive attempt at slicing into his flesh.
A twisted grin etched itself upon the Hyuuga's features as he landed meters away, crouching and placing hands against the bags beneath. It only took moments, a wall of defense erected and designed to force Nomura into a stagger backward. "Hardly!" Asura exclaimed with a guttural growl. "I simply have -confidence-!!" The words were followed by tendrils of sand that circled the wall, an effort to restrain Nomura's limbs.
And so it began, the intensity of their training manifest in those initial movements. Asura's breaths were hard, forceful and signifying the enjoyment of adrenaline beginning to course his veins. Nomura had unknowingly opened the cage, the Chuunin grateful and hosting a certain passion within the Byakugan that displayed itself as the veins bulged and protruded from his countenance.
Before long, each bag of sand would be empty, its contents surrendering to the will of Asura's intent. He would be drained of chakra by the end, of this he was certain. Still, Asura thought with delight, it was going to be well worth the exhaustion.
My shoulder stiffened, sheathing the weapon with still white-knuckled grip. Sand continued to pool and shift, obviously some kind of technique he was fucking around with. From the little I knew of the man, this wasn't the usual - so something new.
"Confidence in what?" My voice almost reaching a yell as I stepped forward, a footstep smashing a puddle of sand. "A parlor trick, or with annoying the piss out of me?" my head cocked to the side, Asura's shift in demeanor plainly obvious.
Nutcase. The distance he put between us filled rapidly with sand, some entwining to seemingly make its way towards me! I'd scoff if it was any less pathetic. A hand raised to slap away the substance, my frown deepening with another step forward. "If you're gonna be a bitch about it, do something better!" this time a barely withheld roar, another draw of the blade.
This one horizontal, a hyper traditional nukitsuke strike at Asura's midsection. Another step forward betrayed the principles of Iaido as I brought the back of the blade to smash up and against the Hyuuga's temple. "Fucking sand?!"
— asura hyuuga | 190 words | "I hAtE sAnD" - anakin pissbaby
They were fully engaged, the notion of withdrawal a fleeting thought as waves of sand coalesced to form a defensive outcome for the Hyuuga. Nomura's words were fuel to the flame as Asura continued, the immediate vicinity a playground for his ocular power. Admittedly, the upkeep of chakra for the Byakugan was a miniscule one. However, the chakra used to control sand was another matter entirely. So much so that Nomura was able to physically thwart his structures, the grains exploding away as the swordsman sought to close the gap once more.
"BOTH!!" Asura roared in exclamation to the question. To those uninitiated, Nomura's attack would have struck true with little resistance. But he had pit himself against the Byakugan, and the Chuunin was prepared to handle the approach. Handseals were performed as he continued to move, the sand now gathered between them rushing upward in the form of another wall. This one was barely able to defend, the Hyuuga creating an evasive maneuver with a jump in the opposite direction of the blade's travel. The Genin would find his blade not only halted in momentum, but beginning its first stages of being swallowed into the sand's grip.
A skid along the earth saw Asura to another bag of sand, placing his hand against its hard surface so as to yield no extra chakra expenditure. Simultaneously, the sand around his feet began their attempt to wrap about his ankles. The Chuunin's growl of defiance seemingly echoed about the battlefield as he summoned the reserves from stray bags. Neither of them, he surmised, would yield.
The bubbling tension of a flaring anger. Each step, each impediment, another drop for the cauldron. How hard did it have to be to enjoy a day alone? Can't just get the annoying assholes out of my life for an afternoon so I can find some fun stuff. Nooooooo. My nostrils flared, the weight of earth against my sword straining against me.
A rip backwards, steps were shallow, slipping through the sand with little resistance. The drag would've been more problematic if I cared to actually create distance, but that wasn't going to be a need for that. A long exhale followed, spinning my blade to sheath it. More sand surged, move seals woven by the Hyuga as his eyes seemed to rip from his face. So that's what the byakugan looks like.
Learn something new every day.
My hands still gripped tight around the hilt and sheath, another step forward. The sand tossed around my ankles, flying pellets trying and failing to enter my - rather narrow - eyes.
Another step forward. "Go on then, do something to impress me." My arm was tense, ready to spring. If he reacted to the taunt -"This shit is a parlor trick." - He'd be getting a bit of a haircut.
How quickly they'd transitioned from casual conversation to an uproar of combat. There was little regard for their safety. At least, not when the anger betwixt them continued to grow in flame. No longer was it a sparring session. It was them at their greatest effort, the sand rushing along the ground and gathering once more as the Hyuuga stayed agile. Where Asura aimed to create distance, Nomura was more than happy to close the gap. It was when he slipped through the sand and taunted the Chuunin that lips curled upward into a malevolent grin. As you wish.
Asura's foot gave an instant kinetic energy as he stood, a kick of strong proportion sending the bag of sand upward and between them. A defensive structure while it was in the air, further handseals boasted more than an act of desperation. No, this was strategy. Of course, Nomura could assist him in cleaving the bag in twain and yielding an immediate supply of sand to manipulate. Alternatively, he'd find that turning his back on the mass of sand behind him would be a negligence that Asura wouldn't allow him to forget.
From behind Benkei did a pillar of sand rush toward his back, aimed to overwhelm and force him forward. Asura's form, enhanced by the Byakugan's prowess, would consequently create an angular dodge to further distance himself from melee range. "Impressive enough!?" the Hyuuga bit out, his chakra descending into dangerous territory as he maneuvered. Had he resorted to Jyuken, their bout would have spoken of a different tale. This, however, was a new avenue to be explored.
They continued their elaborate dance, the air thick with tension as combat ensued. Nomura would respect his progress, his attempts to aggravate Asura be damned.
Clenching muscle, the kiss of metal to air - my step forward released itself with a spike of force down, tucking my chest deep and all but tackling through the 'barricade' of sand. My promised hair cut for the - admittedly long haired - hyuga was cut short, a bag of sand finding itself hurled towards me as he backstepped further.
Its contents spilled open, the window of action leaving me little room to think or function. What it gave in spades was compromise, or more accurately, improvisation. Bulging veins, the constant whirling of sand, it was all starting to visibly toll the chunin, the sound of his breath audible. Mine as well - the sword wasn't light.
Break their concentration. Memories of an ancient lesson from the academy, trying to instill the most basic trait of a shinobi. Not ninjutsu, not kenjutsu; but sneak attacks. Low blows, dirty tricks. There was some consideration for the sand as my blade touched the sky, empty strike in front of Asura. Instead, my knee jumped forward, shifting the entirety of my weight into one more 'jump' forward.
Their training sessions had very clearly turned into something more, a desperate attempt at both ends to stand atop the precipice of victory after having brought their respective instruments to bear. As the sand raged upward and onward, it seemed that Nomura was becoming more accustomed to combating it. It simply meant that the Hyuuga was nowhere near as adept as he'd have liked to be. The sudden attempt forward hadn't escaped the sight of the Byakugan. Quite the opposite, though it meant little in the way of dodging the incoming attack. His chakra dipped into a dangerous place, the sand beginning to wane beneath the confines of his control. His last attempt? Utilize what was left in the tank and throw a hail mary into the distance of effort.
The sandbag had been just enough of a distraction for a few handseals. Suddenly, what separated them was now forming into a pillar, suddenly firing upward in a thick slab of hardened sand that was meant to drive the swordsman off of his feet. A guttural growl unleashed from his belly, the Hyuuga had been counting on striking Benkei square between his legs. As the two closed distance and collided, however, it had seemed that it was his intent all the same.
Both attacks struck with simultaneous proportion, the Byakugan instantly disengaged as a hard exhalation was forced from his lungs. Pain rose to the forefront of his every thought as he was thrown backward, the sudden lurch providing additional offense in the form of an unintended headbutt. Time slowed to a crawl as Asura flew through the air, slamming into the earth and skidding to a halt. One might have sworn that a "K.O." symbol was floating somewhere above the pair..
I wasn't sure what it was at first - only that it was hard. Blood spurted from my nose, a crack rattling in the mix of confusing emotions and traded blows. An exhale, the feeling of contact silent in the back of my mind as a faint stream of mucus and blood ruptured.
If I bothered to look back on things after the fact, there was no rationale left. Frustration, the spiraling lack of control; for both of us, it had already run out of control. And had continued to do so for a fair bit longer than we should've let it... How's the saying go? Let boys be boys.
I'd reel backward, the last bit of my momentum having been lost with my knee. Backpedaling from the impact, I'd end up with my sword loosely held underneath me - the cut it gave my leg only noticed later. My knees weak, another step back would end up with my hands in the dirt, sand strewn carelessly about. With a shake of my head, I forced myself up, turning to my book as I shakily sheathed my blade.
A short glare directed itself at the fallen chunin, a sharp exhale flying with spittle as I gathered my belongings, and hobbled my way home. "Fucking psycho. Sand?"
