Competence. Composure. Focus. Those were the traits required of a ninja in this modern age of unity and warfare; no more reckless killers in the mist. That was what Nobukatsu had chosen to believe, as false as it could be, and that was why he was now here in the mists of the docks. The lick of the sea at the wooden docks had an rhythmic ebb and flow to it, one of the few beautiful parts of the village in the mists.
In the near distance some fishermen were packing their rowboats for work; there was the path just behind him, where villagers were already making their way back and forth in small increments. Off the beaten path, yet still close enough to home. Nobukatsu found an unused pier and focused himself; he let the moisture in the air fall against his loose clothing and felt the sting of seawater against his lungs.
As he let his home fill his thoughts, he gripped the wooden facsimile of a sword he had brought with him, moving through those tried and true basics. Nobukatsu needed to "break out of his comfort zone", as once teased to him by both of his parents, and now there was a sense of meaning to them as he left the family home to find places in the village to take in for himself.
Even as his body went through those swings, stances, and steps, he was focused on the sea. Nobukatsu was perhaps too focused, not aware of anyone or anything else around him beyond his pier...
Look at the novice swing around his needle dick. a singsong tune accompaniment, as an orchestra of mockery rained down - a brief glimpse into a potential future if I were a bit more wealthy. Oh well. This'lll work fine.
I noticed the guy on the docks a few minutes ago, running around looking for some new reading material. Docks were always a good place to look; although I got tired of the waterlogged shipwreck trash I saw every day. Sometimes, a gem - most of the time, garbage. The kid is definitely a gem.
I'd finally leave the crowd of on goers, approaching the pier with a slight swagger. The hand gripping my sheath and belt particularly tight, elbow tight to my side. "Hey, you!"
Ah, I recognized him, now! This was going to be even better! I twisted, the sheath of my blade rotating backwards - leaning back on my opposite leg. A step forward, an arm drawn towards the sun - I aimed an Iaido strike at the amateur swordsman's chest with the blunt end of my blade. I almost immediately noticed the opposite curve drained an enormous amount of striking power from the attempted strike, but it should still gonna scare the shit out of him.
"Too afraid to play with a real weapon, Nobukatsu?" the blade flipping back down, sliding carefully into my sheath as an enormous shit-eating grin spread.
Nobukatsu's eyes are closed and he is mid-swing when that voice cut through his focus. His inclination was to finish out the rest of the current kata but the tone of the voice - that shit-eating voice - left an itch on the back of his neck that he couldn't ignore. An unfortunate sensation his pops told him to keep in mind, and if had any sense he would have given it his full attention.
He didn't.
Nobukatsu is left woefully unprepared when he finally opens his eyes and his body spasms to attention as a blade is thrust at him. No, he realizes as his wooden bokken catches the blade without the required strength and prep to block it, its not a truly fatal strike... but his ribcage is still jabbed, his last-minute block doing little. He then sees that it wasn't going to be fatal regardless, as the sore spot might indicate; blunt edge. Nobukatsu hated his panic even more now, fool that he was.
A quick breath in to draw in some calm, to soothe over his face and give this guy his flattest stare as he let the tip of the wooden swood stab down against the wooden planks. "Do you just carry around a real weapon to get a rise out of people, Nomura?"Don't answer that, he thought just as soon as he asked, and carried on. "What would be the point in carrying a sword out here, anyways?"
He never did fully appreciate the dangers of the mist village.
"Of course!" cloyingly sweet in my response, patting the hilt of iaichi. "That, and it makes my dick feel huge!" A laugh followed, nodding towards Nobukatsu and the ocean beyond him.
"If you need a reason other than that, probably whatever one you're using to swing around that stick." A finger would idly point, not that it was overtly noticeable. I realized about halfway through that I knew almost nothing about the guy across from me, whether or not he even knew how you began to train for the sword.
Self-taught swordsmen were always interesting, needed some huge balls to face death without proper training.
"Which is, what, by the way?" I'd continue, leaning my stance back as a hand caressed my chin. "If you want to train, I can help you do better than that dreck." A wave of the hand, dismissing the swings I had seen.
"It's more fun than the little surprise, trust me." A hand extended, reaching out in friendship. "But we're going to have to start with your footwork." Okay, maybe not the most friendship.
By the gods, this man was crude. It got under Nobukatsu's skin to have someone be so... crude and familiar with him, but even as that feeling washed over him he couldn't help but appreciate it. Nomura was just... such a nice change of pace from order and control that even Nobu had to admit it was good to shake things up every now and then.
If only this guy could watch his language.
Nobukatsu listened in silence as his fellow swordsman carried on, eventually looking down at the extended hand. Nobukatsu moved to clasp it, frowning ever so slightly at the dig on his footwork. "I'm down to see what you've got, but you should stop insulting the fundamentals. They're what sets apart the master swordsmen from men who just carry swords." If Nobukatsu's voice could ever hold an aggressive edge to it, this was as close as it got. Nomura would have an easy time seeing that he didn't appreciate those good old fashioned sword rules being insulted.
"Oh, I didn't know you owned a sword." venom dripping from my response, I nodded back towards the dock. "Got a spare one back at my place, should be good for the basics." a sigh, scratching the nape of my neck. Mom's not home, I hope.
Assuming Nobukatsu would follow, we'd make our way back in to Kirigakure proper, the sun dawdling across the sky before us. A ray of light peeking behind a cloud, brushing quietly against my face, the smell of saltwater distancing as we crossed the threshold.
It was a fairly 'adequate' estate, as my father had put it. A one story building with a sizeable chunk of land, although the yard had been largely reclaimed by a small militia of felines. Somewhere between the number of fifteen and thirty, by my last count. That was a while ago, though. "Wait out here for a second, yeah?" I turned towards Nobukatsu, pointing sideways at the cats. "They'll keep you company while you wait." a half cocked grin.
It'd take a few minutes once I was inside, digging through various drawers that hadn't been opened in... Wait, how long? I started with the tachi a few months back, but... Nah, it hasn't been that long. Even if it was a lie, I'd convince myself as I pulled out my old wakizashi, dusting it off in whatever stray sun I could get in the cramped space. A crack in my back as I stood, heading back to the other genin.
A short throw of the sheathed sword as I nodded towards him. "Ta-dah! It's not pretty, but it'll work." If, more of when; he unsheathed the sword, it would shine plainly against sunlight. Markedly boring, the only distinguishing signs of wear were several small chipped sections near the hilt. "No idea how sharp it is, though."
Nobukatsu prided himself on his calm and collected mannerisms. He had always viewed himself as someone with a level-head; he was dutiful to his academic studies and always sought to remain observant and insightful. Nobu respected the ideas of embodying the calm soul and clear vision that was said to be required to become one with the sword. He even had the steady hands and cool nature required of a proficient combat medic, a source of some small pride within him, and wanted to hone a good bedside manner for that very reason.
He considered throwing all of that out to strangle Nomura.
Nobukatsu knew it was important to remain in good standing with his peers, especially those with unavoidable ties to himself - the swordsmen of the mist inevitably crossed paths, it seemed - but he couldn't exactly explain what compelled him to actually follow Nomura home. Perhaps it was a desire to prove himself right, or a need to see exactly why this guy seemed so interested in showing him some techniques despite all the abrasion that came with it.
Then came the cats.
It was bad enough that his house was bombarded with dogs at inconvenient times thanks to a family friend; now there were eyes and tails all around him, the mewing and meowing, and the fur. "Take your time," Nobukatsu stated plainly, lying as he didn't desire to be out here all day with a pack of cats that seemed to be the landlords of this place. He looked about politely in the absence of his rough-tongued 'friend', taking in the state of the yard and the house itself. As the minutes grew long, however, it would result in Nobukatsu doing what he could to not interact with the cats; a few cautious steps here, a few there, turning when he had to to avoid any of them trying to get comfortable or brushing up against him.
And then there was the sword. A fairly standard wakizashi by the weight and guard, and Nobukatsu drew the blade an inch or two out to see if it was a proper one. "Sharp or not, you've handed me a blade." Nobukatsu wasn't sure if this was a challenge to his personal code or not, at this rate. "Pray tell, what do you plan on having me do with this, now that you've given me a 'real weapon'?"
Something in my gut told me Nobukatsu was a tad ornery. The shift in tone, the glare - the repeated shooing of cats. Good. A hand idly rested on my Iai-Tachi, a faint chuckle radiating outwards.
"You have to ask?" A raised brow accompanying a sharp grin, motioning to the weapon with my opposite hand. "Attack me."
My left foot slid behind my right, weight shifting backwards. The majority of my own footwork had been taught a bit more orthodox - but those who can't, teach. Doubt I'm going to be the best teacher. Assuming he bothered to follow the instruction, my body would buck back and forth, avoiding any slashing movement. Dropping my weight onto my back leg and letting it drop down; creating enough of a gap each time for the wakizashi to hit nothing but air.
A wag of my finger followed, smile widening to bright white teeth. "Keep it going!" A plain attempt to egg him on, I'd continue my backpedaling motion, swiveling my upper body into a faux fall if he attempted a stab. Largely, the footwork looked more impressive than it was. With even a couple afternoons of training, it was possible - after all, it was just controlled falling.
