[attr="class","APP3"]It stood proud. It was of a traditional appearance on the outside, a venerable structure that stood tirelessly against the test of time as students were made into masters, young boys grown into men. It was a dojo, but as proud as she stood she was but a relic of the past. In recent years it had been relegated to the role of a shrine, its path only worn by wayward travelers as they lit candles and incense. The last master, the final one to publicize their practice within those walls, had died many years ago and his students stopped returning, some moving on to begin their own practices or others making an effort to take on the world. Where their paths may have gone, it was beyond the scope of this dojo seemed to lowly to nurture their legacy, to providing a base for their great story.
Not Seiichi, though.
Through a purchase and some consideration, the Jounin had finally committed to a promise he had made to himself. While Seiichi held to no particular form of martial form, there was no doubting his insuperable talent when it came to the combination of many and their underlying principles. Be it from neigong to qigong for the gentle internal martial arts to do external forces they produced, to hojo undo for the strength training in karate to power through the movements accessed by various katas and so on, Seiichi had mastered the practices. He had been tireless in the pursuit of mastery, in harnessing what power techniques were before him to shatter their molds and further the ceiling to his own talent.
Yet, he knew that he could not do it alone. Dummies did not strike back. The world of Shinobi had taken a different direction and matured talents, such as the professions as he so tirelessly dedicated himself to, could never shine until they were brought to a point of evolution. The jounin knew it was time to take on disciples and further the role of martial prowess in the shinobi world.
Seiichi had always been a frugal man, needing little of the money he earned as a means of survival. His time, mostly spent without respite in the tundras of Kumo, needed zero fiscal support. It was through this alone that he could afford to restore parts of the structure that had been failing, as well as the equipment used. Students would find, inside, various tools for strength training and condition: Chi Ishi, Ishi Sashi, Jari Bako and so on to condition their striking strength, grip strength, the durability of their hands and the power of their forearms. Not a resource was spared in the hopes that no student would spare the opportunity.
Seiichi himself could be found inside, hauling the concrete weights that were the Ishi Sashi as he took a straight stance with his feet brought to shoulder width. It was a full and straight motion, where tension was maintained in front of him as the weights were lowered to his thighs and brought up over head, each arm left to alternate. Jai Huángjīnjiǎ Kaito Nishimura
Last Edit: Sept 26, 2021 3:55:51 GMT by Seiichi Koji
[attr="class","APP3"]It was a tough time getting around the city with how much mischief he's caused in his younger years. Kaito managed what he could and made his way to the part of town that had a lot of foot traffic. The young shinobi spent his day walking around looking at various shops and speaking to people he obviously didn't care about to see if anything interesting would come up. It in fact sure did. An old lady spoke of a dojo off a beaten path that seemed like it didn't belong there. If you were to view Kumogakure from above you'd be sure to spot it but from where he was currently standing it wasn't visible.
Kaito made his way past the crowd into the path that led up a steep hill. The hill itself was beautiful, the trees were shaken by the breeze and the sun poked its light through the holes in between the leaves. It was weird that this city had such a beautiful and remote spot. Kaito wasn't one to stop and smell the flowers but sometimes this is nice. After stopping to eat the onigiri he kept in his jacket pocket he'd continue his ascent. When he broke the hill line, he let out a small gasp. The shrine was beautiful, old, and slightly dusty but it definitely gave off an aura of mystery and even slightly of history.
He couldn't wait. Kaito dashed towards the shrine and didn't even knock. He'd pop his head into the doorway and see a massive figure. This man was huge and seemed terrifying. Kaito's body could feel his strength from about 5 meters away.
"Lifting weights sir?" he'd say half nervously and half in a joking manner.
[attr="class","APP3"]Seiichi had been left without interruption for sometime, but ever the beast of habit, he continued despite the ache. It was important to face against the attrition brought on by mundane elements such as boredom and the more nefarious ones born of exhaustion. If one neglected to challenge themselves the moment they were upon those ceilings, they would never adapt and never breakthrough. It was in this that their abilities would deteriorate or stagnate, their strength not what it once was for no capering flame unfurled beneath it. It was then, that, Seiichi would deny himself this reality by never stopping. In training, he would seize everyday.
It was then that the door slid open, the first time he had heard it working since he arrived. The jounin looked, slowing briefly in his pace as he continued to lift those concrete weights like a machine. Their pace was steady, even and curiously consistent. He looked to his new arrival: they were young and lithe of frame with auburn hair and bright eyes. Frames like the one possessed by the young man were far more difficult to discern as they often had little to tell. Even worse, he was unfamiliar with them. He could spot the plate of kumogakure on their person, but did not recognize their face. It must have been a shinobi in Kegawa's platoon.
"Ishi Sashi," he mentioned as he was unwavering in his form, the left and controlled descend of the concrete weight alternating in each arm. "They're concrete weights used to build power," he mentioned, although it was difficult to imagine that they did more than little for him. "Have you come to lift them yourself? One doesn't happen upon a dojo without an intention," said Seiichi in that stentorian voice of his, befittingly loud for such a large man as every tone filled the empty dojo. If that hadn't been his intention, to arrive and get stronger by any means devised by Seiichi, then it was to his benefit to explain himself now.
"Your name?" The jounin asked. There was a possibility that the genin was familiar with him, if only by name.
Waves of eager energy pulsed through me as I half-walked, half-skipped across one of the paved overpasses hovering through the Cloud. It had been over a week since the agreement had been made, and today marked the first day of the continuation of my training. The first day that I would be granted an opportunity to blossom beyond the close watch of my family, who had overseen my practice since I was a child. There was some nervousness at the prospect, I admit, but the further I moved from home, the more any tension was blotted out by an excitement, an intense eagerness.
Why was I so excited? For years I had been seeking a method to finally defeat my older brothers in the sword. But how could I defeat them if, no matter how hard I trained, my lessons were forever stuck years behind theirs? Each strategy of mine to shortcut that gap of time had resulted in the steadfast reproval of my parents, who would scold me for my impatience, for my desire to move beyond the basics 'before I was ready.' But if I was anything, I was persistent, and years of begging had finally paid off. While I would maintain my lessons at their established pace, I was given license to supplement my training elsewhere. That is, beyond the range of their control.
Of course, I would never have been released to 'waste my time' training with just anyone, but once I made it known who had agreed to train me, the renowned Taijutsu expert Seiichi Koji, who also lead my platoon, they eventually relented and gave the okay. I usually wasn't so assuming as to approach someone as busy as him with such a request, but word had spread that he was looking for pupils to work with, and so I took my shot. Now, today, I was the sun finally surmounting the clouds, no longer obscured by their enclosing opacity but free to be free.
☁️ ☁️ ☁️
I was there before I knew it, cresting the grand hill that upheld the dojo like an offering to the gods of war. It was perfect—overlooking the landscape for leagues and far enough away that we couldn’t be spied upon. With three more marching steps I traversed the incline and stood, hands on my hips, facing the auspicious building. Rays of light fell in furrowed patterns across its width, washing the exterior in a golden light. This was it. I shrugged my shoulders slightly, feeling the weight of my zanbatō shift along my back, the blade spanning my entire width and a couple feet short of my 5'6" height—Steel Wing, my treasure and bringer of swift oblivion. A durable leather cover encased its length, blunting the edges in case it was needed for sparring. I gave it a final glance before setting my sights forward and covering the remaining ground, entering the dojo that would become my shrine.
Two men stood before me as I crossed the threshold, either of whom couldn’t have appeared more different. It was obvious who Seiichi-sensei was, the goliath of a man who was lifting the two concrete weights as easily as if they were plush toys. My eyes lingered on his figure for some time as they talked. And then they met the form of the other man, who I assumed was another student. He was much smaller by comparison, though still taller than me, and regardless I knew that looks could be deceiving. He was here for a reason; I was curious to see what he was about. I then surveyed the rest of the room, mouth slightly agape, beholding at once every kind of weight and piece of training gear you could imagine. My stomach fluttered.
This was my new home.
“Miyako Haru,” I announced, “and I think the pleasure will be mine.”
