The rain came in sheets from the heavens, pattering against the buildings and streets of the Hidden Mist Village. The seabirds were silent against this backdrop, leaving Nobukatsu alone in the dojo to hear the muffled sounds of the rain through the wood-and-paper walls. It was calming and oddly serene for their village, giving him the reassurance that today would go according to plan.
He was glad that his request for additional training was taken well; he had faith in his superiors within his platoon to help him excel. This was one of the mist's more spacious dojos; close to his former academy, it was equipped with everything one could need for privacy while being within the isolated comfort of the village. Nobukatsu sat in the center of the dojo, simply waiting for one of his superiors to show up to give him the promised lesson.
Nobu calmed himself once more, a breath in and a breath out. Seeds of unease were trying to plant themselves; he had made little progress as a genin in the last few years, and a dark part of his mind found himself wondering if that was all he was truly destined for.
The White Tiger of Kirigakure seemed to tear himself from the very shadows offered by the dojo, his slow footsteps almost completely mute. Feline eyes peered out and toward the center of the establishment, his very presence eerie and all-consuming. Long, flowing locks of silver shifted with a silken ebb and flow as he ambled forward, a predatory stare falling upon Nobukatsu as he approached. The summons he'd received had been a call to training. Neither the Dossier or the word of mouth had done the Genin any favors. And it was in those moments of judgement that the Hyuuga deemed Mizuno unworthy, a stain, a blemish upon the shinobi name. Deep beneath the surface, the beast's nostrils flared to life - fresh meat.
Asura's head dipped low as he took his place meters away from Nobukatsu, lips parting after seconds to offer him greeting. "You the Genin that requested help with your training?" the Hyuuga asked. Despite the air about him, his very tone was practiced, appropriate, helpful in its inquiry. His very stance offered a methodical appearance, weight even distributed between appendages as he stared down at the young frame in front of him.
"I am Hyuuga Asura. I've been instructed to assist you."
One could only have wondered the peril involved behind such a revelation.
The source of is unease was far closer than he could have imagined. Nobukatsu was, to his shame, unaware of the Hyuuga until it would have been a problem had he been anyone but an ally. No wonder this guy was already advancing through the ranks despite the similarities in their age; he had the presence that demanded respect for his abilities. That sort of aura combined with that hair... there was only one person in the village he could have been.
Short end of the straw for Nobukatsu, he got the person in his platoon that could make or break him.
Nobukatsu made sure to show the Hyuuga the proper respects, bowing his head in equal measure for their greeting and waiting for them to finish speaking. "Mizune Nobukatsu. I am, indeed, the genin that requested training." His nerves steeled themselves, wondering if he was in the same room as a fellow shinobi or if he was in the room with a trained animal.
He had to find his words, but eventually they escaped his lips. "I would like to be reliable, for the sake of the platoon and the village. If I need to seek help to achieve that goal, so be it." It felt like a bold declaration from a genin who hadn't yet lifted his gaze to meet Asura's; asking for help felt like a mistake, at times, in this village that still held very hostile roots.
The only guarantees provided by this life were death and hardship, both of which the Hyuuga delivered as he so suddenly stepped into a forward palm strike. Already, the speed of a Jyuuken practitioner was manifest betwixt kinetic energy and impact. Muscles tensed, blood and chakra rose and roared as Asura aimed to strike Nobukatsu square at the center of his chest. Eyebrows furrowed visibly, his form poised for additional maneuvers as his appendage lashed out with no less than an Apprentice precision.
How insulting that the Hyuuga hadn't initiated his Kekkei Genkai's greatest treasure. Or perhaps it was fortunate for his target. Should he have willed it, the pending strike would have yielded a far more dangerous result through the Gentle Fist technique. He had to, at least, give a modicum of mercy to the unworthy Genin in front of him. Such was his palm strike that it was meant to drive through Nobukatsu and not at him.
Parry or evade, the Chuunin Hyuuga maintained a firm stance and paused after the apex of his attempt. "Shall I give you despair?" Asura asked, chin dipping low as silver draped his visage.
Nobukatsu had enough time to process the Hyuuga's words before the strike, barely putting himself on the defensive. The palm strike found a home at his chest, with Nobukatsu's last-minute efforts being enough to brace and pull back fractions of an inch, Nobu's own hands coming up from their respectful place near his lap to his chest - nothing worthy of praise, but enough to avoid the full brunt of the pain as his hands took the blow instead of his ribcage. He could have made excuses - had he been prepared, had he known, he could have dealt with the blow more appropriately - but he knew that was a foolish line of thinking. There was no such honor or protocol in the kinds of wars and battles they would have to engage in for the village.
His fingers stung from even such a basic blow - their taijutsu was on different levels.
Nobukatsu found his resolve, however, as he regained composure and looked at the Hyuuga's expression. He couldn't afford to view this as training; he was now within this room with a beast, and if he didn't keep up, he felt the consequences could be dire. With the lesson of the first strike fresh in his mind, Nobukatsu assumed a basic jujutsu form, trying to keep track of all the factors he needed to just keep up.
Distance from Asura. The room layout. His own form. Asura's form. That fighting style compared to his fundamentals. To try to anticipate without cornering himself in expectations.
Nobukatsu didn't give a verbal response to the 'question', instead centering his breathing and waiting. He would let his readiness do the talking for now, lest he speak and bring shame to himself.
The Hyuuga was poised for yet another attack, taking note of Nobu's very form. As the Genin withdrew, an almost imperceptible anger grew etched across Asura's features. "Well..?" the question trailed off. From his left foot he sprang, the distance between them yet again closed at a moment's notice as Asura's fingers began their journey. An elaborate dance born out of rigorous training was put on display as Asura lashed out. The intensity of his blows grew increasingly powerful as he assaulted Nobu, a shift in his stance creating a difficult opportunity to seize a counterattack.
There was an almost predatory growl as the Hyuuga fell into his onslaught, determined to pin the Genin before him to the wall in chaos and defenseless positioning. And yet, there was no response from Nobu - only preparation. Such understandings were paramount if he were to survive their training session. The very floor beneath them buzzed to life as the Hyuuga struck out at him, seemingly random in placement but meticulous in execution.
