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'?"
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 night had been a peaceful one for the sole figure within the Mizuno household. A long day of errands and housekeeping kept Nobukatsu out of the empty place for much of the day, but he had to return home at some point. After all, what happens to a house when it is left alone? Would the house, too, grow lonesome like its occupant? Would it, too, wonder what it has done wrong?
Makoto's animal senses would have picked up on the simple scents of dinner that remained in her break-in room; fish, rice, soy, vegetables. Nothing to write home about. No one would have responded to the initial whisper, either; it wouldn't be until the clattering of noise that footsteps would sound off a few rooms over, stealthy to the average persons but nothing that a full-blown jounin could miss. In just a matter of seconds, Nobukatsu's face would hover into view of one of the doorway's barely-closed slits, relief washing over him.
Makoto might pick up on the fact that there's a slight shift in bodyweight and a quiet thud against the wall as he put down the wooden sword he had brought with him for self-defense.
The door is properly opened and a casually-dressed Nobu enters the scene. Simple robes for at-home wear, and a candle he is presently trying to light as he steps in. The smallest quantities of ink are on his fingers; he may have been writing when startled by the home intruder. "We have a front door. In fact, this house has a few doors." This was the polite way of displaying the small amounts of annoyance he felt he could get away with.
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 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.
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.
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.
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...
Against the soundscape of rain and morning mist, Nobukatsu practiced. The family home had a dedicated dojo; a space supplied with every basic necessity, most of which were unused these days. Nobukatsu trained alone on empty mats, wooden blade in hand, and simply let his body recite the same things he let his body recite every morning.
The first form. The second stance. The third grip. The fourth flow.
It emptied him of his dreams each day, those spoiled things that kept trying to cling to him. Dreams of a father that would never again greet him, and dreams of a mother that he would never see. Not that he saw much of them in the first place - ample amounts, of course, for a military family, but never enough to please the heart. Nobukatsu emptied his mind of their faces now, finishing the routine in silence, with nothing but the basics.
Nothing but what they taught him.
Soon he is cooking a meal in an empty house; he is alone this morning. A praise of thanks is given to a living space that cradles him and him alone this misty day; only then is he able to go out and make his way to today's destination. Before he can fathom it, he has found himself at the grave marker of his father.
Nobukatsu is silent for far too long.
"I'm going to find her," breaking the pitter-patter of rainfall on stone with a stoic voice. "I won't let my training trouble you anymore." As he speaks he unwraps his bandaged left arm, showing off the red-tainted signs of fresh ink there. A new part of the process; a new promise on his skin. "Never again will complacency claim me. In a way, she taught me that."
The rain hides what might be his true feelings as he re-wraps himself and slowly makes his way towards home. He had preparations to make.
Proficiencies
Taijutsu [Rookie] The fundamentals have been practiced and honed. Nobukatsu knows the required martial skills required of a ninja but nothing more and nothing less. His moves are solid but basic, the result of hours of practicing the same drills over and over without real combat experience to back them up.
Kenjutsu [Rookie] Nobukatsu's kenjutsu is also in its fundamentals. It would be more accurate to say that Nobukatsu is more gifted in the art of kendo rather than kenjutsu, practicing the rhythm of forms and grips over and over without much real experience to back it up. He carries a steel-rod umbrella with him rather than one of the family blades; he isn't worthy yet.
Stealth [Rookie] Nobukatsu has the hang of silence and stillness, but lacks the full observational awareness to hide himself with efficiency that would work on anyone trained to search out the hidden. Stealth has never been a pride and joy skill in the family, and it shows in his lack of interest in furthering it beyond the bare minimum required of him.
Medical Ninjutsu [Apprentice] A student that has finally moved on to practical applications. Nobukatsu has always had an interest in the inner workings of the body, initially studying the medical arts to further his understanding of his own self, but has found a nugget of talent within himself that he seeks to nurture. Don't expect him to heal anything life-threatening, but do expect him to wax poetically about the intricacies of your chakra points in conjunction with your major organs. At this stage he's more of a first-aid-kit connoisseur than a jutsu professional.
