One of the things that many individuals often found fascinating about the hidden cloud was its sky-high scenery. True to its name, buildings were scattered across tall mountain peaks, built on platforms that fought back the forces of gravity. Needless to say, anyone who wasn’t used to the narrow walkways could almost feel the natural pull of the world towards the montainous bottom. Thankfully, most shinobi from the cloud were used to these conditions already. Regular training provided their bodies with the natural finesse to fight back the dangers of the land they called home, ultimately giving them an edge over outsiders. For someone in particular, however, this wasn’t the case.
Enter Mahiru, a dedicated genin of platoon two from the hidden cloud. Despite the internal screaming from every inch of her body each morning, she fought back the natural cold of her homeland and trained harder and harder every single day. Physical training, mental training, ninjutsu techniques, stealth…! There was no shortage of guts and effort on her approaches, but perhaps… She might have overdone it this time. Her newest method? Upside down crunches on the walkways. It sounded like a great idea at first, really; use her bandage ninjutsu to keep herself hanging from the handrails, and focusing all her physical prowess on pulling herself up. The perceived risk added from training at such a dangerous spot would bring her concentration and effort to the maximum output, forcing her to train two distinct arts at the same time. It just so happened she was a little too eager — the clock ticked and nightime crept in, and so did the cold. The result?
A lizard-brained girl hanging from the walkways first thing in the morning.
“H-help…Sssomebody…” a breathy call for assistance escaped her lips, barely audible to anyone passing by above. Hanging by her leg bandages alone, it was only a matter of time until this situation unfolded into a pointless disaster. After spending a night pondering about the ramifications of her marvelously stupid idea, her stomach grumbled and she could pretty much taste her breakfast already. All she needed to do was go back home, prepare something to eat, and she’d be back on her feet again —
[attr="class","APP3"]There were pillars that supported this earth. One of those mighty pillars had been consistency. The sun always rose and it always set. The clouds would always collect and it would always rain. The earth spun on its axis and accounted it 'winter' and would turn to call 'spring' elsewhere and eventually swap. There were far more that kept reality as they knew it, at this large scale. Though, that wasn't to say it ended there: there were consistencies of finer machinations as well, ones that had a more personal impact. One always slept. One always woke. One always ate and the most dedicated of all always trained. Rain, sleet or snow they'd know no rest. Exhaustion, injury and even to their final fumes, they would not relent. It was those who strove to achieve a new goal everyday that would outpace their peers, it was those that sacrificed the most that often found fate rewarding them the most.
If they survived.
It had been early into the morning, the last moments of twilight fading as it gave to the dawn of a new day. The manner in which the horizon was crested by a mighty sun was picturesque, something to be read in those first few lines of a good boy. It rose gingerly to greet those who awaited her arrival, showering them with a benevolent warmth. It filtered into the village slowly, beaming great shadows as it struck and rose over low buildings and warmed the backs of the far taller ones. Days were finite in their time, their end known commonly -- but a more dedicated few found ways to optimize those hours. In short, to spend the most time training -- and consistently at that -- was the most profound way of utilizing those limited hours. To do so on a basis that grew from daily, to weekly, to monthly and so on proved an even more successful method. However, the bane of existence to many came in the guise of hard work. It was a consistent thing across generations, a befitting curse.
“H-help…Sssomebody…”
The bear beneath the source of the sorry plight abruptly came to a stop. Even with his mundane, less-than-impressive hearing, there was no discounting the sorrow in their voice as it had been wrung by exhaustion and surely a degree of strain. He looked left. Then right. Then behind and even leaned forward. Eventually -- and to her benefit -- he looked up to see an unlikely sight: it had been a girl -- one of his girls -- that had been hanging way up there! Except, they hadn't met yet. It had been by chance that he looked into a briefing about her, gaining a vague grasp of her unusual origins and the assumption of latent abilities; naturally, it was her dossier that was so unnaturally assembled. Despite his often stony visage, even he struggled to hide the embarrassment for her. While not being a model citizen or one to look onto for manners, he knew well that there were more ideal ways to make first impressions.
"Go on. Fall."
He called to her in his loud voice, birds that had been nesting stirred from their places of sleep as they tucked themselves into the reasonable crannies and nooks. The command was issue, but it wasn't as if he made a promise to catch her.
Nor did he follow up saying he would, after a measure of silence.
Regardless of her pleas for help, time flowed like a never-ending stream. Every second reminded her of just how long she had been stuck in this embarrassing situation, but the sharp headache was perhaps the worst of it all. While her intention and desire to improve was almost palpable, anyone with a modicum of experience could tell she lacked the awareness of her own limits. It was only through venturing into the streams of time — and later, within its oceans and storms — could one truly delve deep into their own ego to understand oneself; mind, body and soul.
After several hours asking for help, at long last a voice boomed back.
Mahiru teetered along the border between consciousness and the lack thereof, his words sending her back to days long gone. That person used to do the same, back when she was sleeping soundly within her glass shell. A loud voice capable of piercing the green ocean that delimited her first experience of life. Garnet hues looked for the source, but her blurry vision could only tell how massive whoever had issued the short, imperative suggestion. “But…” Even through the mental fog obscuring her mindscape, Mahiru could tell letting go of her only safety measure preventing her from becoming a red stain was a bad idea.
“…I’ll just end up going sssplat!” What little of her exhausted consciousness she had active pondered about the repercussions of letting go. Was there any other way out? Under normal circumstances, the forest-haired genin could easily pull herself up. Perhaps she didn’t try hard enough?! To put that possibility to the test, her muscles flexed as she tried to pull herself up — only to be met with failure once more shortly thereafter. A long, soul-drained sigh rang through the air, carrying frustration, exhaustion and embarrassment along with it.
But then it all happened in an instant.
The combined strain of dwindling chakra reserves strained throughout an entire night, and a five-second-long trip to dreamland was more than enough to break the concentration to keep her jutsu. The bandages let go, and lady gravity ultimately had clutched the genin on her hands, pulling her down to impending doom. “Hyaaaaa!” the girl’s voice pierced the air, startling the birds and prompting them to leave their nest. She’s falling and there’s no way back; no chakra and no stamina to save the day. Or perhaps, more accurately,
[attr="class","APP3"]There was a delicacy to everything. A soft energy to a hard energy. A light to a dark. Any analysis done on a situation could reveal, with discerning eyes, where a balance had lied. There was a value in discovering those balances and understanding them. This took time, however. It was unfortunate that not all things functioned with similar consequence if one leapt with an untamed eagerness. It was a fact that the poor girl above him-- the genin within his platoon --was all too familiar with as she had forgone preliminary work and instead embraced it all gung-ho. There was nothing wrong with this, in theory. Often, the most worth-while benefits were earned with trial and tribulation, all in earnest virtue against attrition that felt insuperable. For a shinobi to posture themselves to such positions required dedication and expected ceilings to be broken through.
However, most had the wit between both ears to know what danger was risked when they should inevitably fail in the face of their task, no mountain being conquerable on the first try. Despite the perilous situation she had found herself in, there was no resentment that the jounin harbored towards the emerald-headed genin-- though, soon to be red-headed or half-headed considering the varied outcomes of her impending fall. It was an amiable trait to go beyond-- in fact, it was a necessary trait if she ever wished to command and vestige of power and call it her very own. However, before all that could occur, one had to reason that the space between her ears was filled with the proper brains to capitalize on her talents.
She was young -- 'new', perhaps a more fitting term. Her 'brains' would come, be their revelation in combat sense or natural wit she'd conjure through her own strides in growth.
Imagining what women her hard work would develop her into was interrupted by a girlish wail that filled the air, the arms and legs of a flailing lizard girl aimlessly swimming through the air as she kicked and punched. Very soon, if he acted no quicker, this would be the greatest form he'd ever witness her in. Wasn't it the case that people, as they mounted their final moments of life and hitched their last desperate breath, found that their life suddenly flashed before their eyes? She lived no normal life, not from what he understood-- was she robbed of this final comfort?
She'd land with a thud, her back to smack hard...
Against a set of hard, powerful arms that seemed to swallow her whole in their mass alone. Despite how jarring the crash may have felt, she'd find that her eyes could eventually open and that her vision wasn't clouded with red. She was a waif compared to her, insignificant in size but no less in purpose. "You can't go 'sssplat'. You haven't trained hard enough," came a set of words that were no less stentorian than the boom that alerted her before, even the rumble of their production could be felt with how close he held her to his chest; curiously, any closer analysis would fine that his words seemed to be some odd marriage of command and expectation. He'd set her down before she became too comfortable with the prospect of being cradled, forcing her to stand to her feet whether she was prepared to or not.
"One-hundred."
No context. But it was a clear order. What would she do?
A chill ran down her spine as the safety provided by her bandages was no more, and soon she felt the frightening sensation of weightlessness take hold of her body before she plummeted. Limbs flailed about as she could hear her own wail, loaded with fear for her own safety. There were still so many things she wanted to try, new techniques to learn, and perhaps above all else, new people to meet. It was fine if they often side-eyed her; regardless of the nonhuman features she carried, she’d do her best to befriend them either way. Alas, along with the realization she had majorly fucked up, comes a second layer of surprise… He never said he’d catch her. “Heh…” A lack of memories to flash before her eyes and of awareness prompted the lizard-brained girl to chuckle at herself. So that was the end —
Fucking idiot.
Her scream is cut short and her eyes closed as she had resigned herself to fate. Thankfully, it appeared she had come to the wrong conclusion. This was no end; it was the end of her embarrassing session of Hanging Among the Clouds instead. Sheepish orbs open up, vision still blurry. Unlike her peers, Mahiru had a load of different senses and features which often got in the way of her training and daily life. Her cheeks puffed up, and soon a chameleon-like tongue shoots out in the air, returning shortly afterwards with plenty of information. Her vision sharpens and she can finally get a good view of the man that had saved her life.
With a single flick of her tongue, Mahiru sometimes registered sensitive, and perhaps even pointless details of everything nearby. It was a necessary evil that allowed her usually blurry vision to sharpen and focus like a normal human’s. Among those details were included the taste and smell of everything nearby. Craddled in his arms, most would be thankful towards their savior first thing — not when they had Mahiru’s inquisitive nature. Garnets glanced at him, and there wasn’t a single drop of hesitation on her visage as she delivered her question.
“Oji-san, when was the lassst time you took a -wooah!” Her feet landed on the ground, but her legs were far too weak to support her weight. She fell back, sitting on the hardwood. At least the combined cushioning of her tail and a rather well-endowed lower physique was more than enough to prevent any painful impact. “Thanksss anyway! I owe you -huh?” before she could voice her gratitude, the fortress of a man uttered a word — or more precisely, a number.
She wasn’t the brightest mind around, but Mahiru wasn’t dumb either.
“Eeeeh?? One-hundred crunchesss??” It was the type of exercise she had been practicing last night after all, “But I ssspent yesterday doing them…!” shoulders lowered, eyebrows angled against one another and a heavy sigh were clear indicators of a weary lizard-girl ready for a break instead. Regardless of her exhaustion, his silence was as clear as the azure above them and she felt compelled to follow him — he did save her life. "Fine..." There was no room for a break just yet. She lays down on the ground before preparing herself, and soon enough she starts a mental countdown.
Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven…! While she worked out right before him, garnet hues observed his towering size, “Jussst… Who, are… You, Oji-sssan??” her voice, albeit strained and hissed, delivered a question that perhaps she should have asked herself a long time ago.
What a weird one. The thought crept, funny that it had been born in his mind. Human but with inhuman features-- rather, ones he'd never bared witness to before on a person of flesh and blood. What's that? Yes-- he'd seen her type before, but only upon old and tattered manuscripts of foreign and ancient styles which emphasized the adoption of a beast's nature to comprehend the style in which they fought. A tongue sprung from the thin tiers that were her lips as if it were a party streamer. Had he been anymore genial, the coincidence would have brought a curl to the edge of his lips for it seemed to celebrate the very fact that she'd live to breathe another fresh breath; alas, fresh wasn't the word. No, in fact, his stench had been but a more natural odor that seemed ripe, a befitting stink. "The other day," Seiichi informed her, a question more readily asked by her alarmed expression that her shortly spun sentence. It was sweat, of course, and a lot of it. The way Seiichi saw it was you were working hard or hardly working.
And the jounin only knew how to work hard.
He had dropped and joined her after a moment, that mass of bloated muscle coated in his masculine perfume to lie besides the genin some few feet as he crunched away, curling upright as a puff of air fled him only to be renewed by the time he made it back down. As he was sure to draw breath in the day, he was as sure to find a manner to work out. There was no counting -- not for him, anyway, he only kept track of the girl's crunches. Whether it was a cause of alarm or a sense of belonging, she wouldn't find menacing eyes dissecting her while completed her order. Despite her fatigue, Mahiru proved no slouch when it came to pulling through. It wasn't before long that Seiichi found himself shifting, pressing against the ground as he resumed his towering height. Looking as thickly built as he did tall, it was a wonder if he were more wall than man.
"Seiichi Koji." An answer was delivered on that blustery voice, his words spoken .
The goliath that cast a shadow no less grand than a venerable oak tree was a well-known name in their village of Kumogakure. Seiichi was the jounin that headed the second platoon with a rather unique character about him, but equipped with a personality that expressed itself better in action. "You're Mahiru Kobayashi," he'd tell her in that stentorian bellow, speaking more as if he named her there and then. There was a weight in his gaze -- no, his was a glower as a crease seemed permanently fixed to his forehead and his brows were but a twitch from a furrow. No word would have to come between them for the man to sense her tension, how strained and worn her muscles had felt. It was a feeling he'd none before -- no, it was a state he recogonize.
A state to pierce through ones boundaries and mount echelons of power they could not ever hoped to have known without.
"Another hundred." A clap of thunder.
Had the Fates designed his solidarity in her fatigue to be perceived as something cruel and torturous? His intention was to support her, but a fatigued mind could be a perplexing thing.
"Then one-hundred more after that. You will do this everyday."
