The Quiet Storm [Wind Release | Rookie] Making a breakthrough with ninjutsu has left Nomura in the possession of his first elemental release, Wind. With a string of handseals, he can produce small wind projectiles from his mouth, and aims to be able to adhere his chakra to weapons, without much success.
The edge of the city came flush with buildings, narrow alleyways guiding me into the guts of conflict. A wipe on the edge of my sleeve had cleaned my blade, but the smell of rotting dirt clung heavily in turn. Hairs standing on the back of my neck as the smell of smoke overtook my nostrils, the gap widened between myself and the soldiers as dirt turned to cobblestone.
Cacophony continued, struggling to hear my own panic as I sidled along the wall of the alleyway. Barking commands, cries of pain, the crackle of heat, audible as it brushed against my skin. My gaze had shifted upwards, wary of the multitude of flying things - only to be responded to with ire.
A darting shadow, details difficult to parse as the glimmer of steel was sent downwards. Ducking forward, a push against the ground with a roll would hopefully dodge the attack, if not mitigate it to somewhere less dangerous. A hand pushed up, catching a breath. Dammit, I'm already running on fumes. A thought hid behind the taste of adrenaline, muscle fatigue snapping at my heels.
A clamor as I jostled back to a standing position, the clanking of my iai-tachi audible as I entered the building to my left, ripping through a paper-lined door with a tackle. In the midst of the chaos, in the fear of conflict, a hazy memory of the 'mission' came swimming to the surface, pushed down with the heavy hand of anger.
"If I'm going to die here, I'm going to take that motherfucker out." a hushed tone, narrow eyes looking for a way to the roof.
The sputtering of mud was more disturbing than the blood, my sword pulling away with a sickening wetness that would come to haunt my dreams. Assuming I got to have more, my retreat coming into reality as I turned, a hand reaching out to pull away the inuzuka. It wasn't a lasting touch, nor forceful; there was little faith in his ability to discern between ally an enemy particularly carefully.
The soldiers - whatever they were - seemed to die fairly easily, as any other. Is it some kind of jutsu? had rung through my head from the first speck of dirt flying from where spittle should've come. If that's even something you can do... It would come to some level of self promise to study ninjutsu. Bothering with it feels far too labyrinthian.
Continuing into my retreat, my gaze turned from overrun forests to the night sky alight, black shapes flitting between trails of smoke and blotting out the stars. From a stretched frown, concerned knitting of the brow, to even the knuckles tightly gripping a blade flying free from its sheath, only one thought rang in my chest.
My voice garnered attention I didn't expect, a bolt shooting down my spine as I slowly turned to face the newcomer, the boat pulling onto shore some distance away. A raised eyebrow greeted the man's reply, fingers dancing lightly on the hilt of my Iai-tachi. He didn't appear to be anyone familiar, not that it mattered - drunks tended to disappear and show up months later. Half the time, you couldn't recognize someone who was an old friend, let alone a stranger.
A step in the clay-ridden sand slid backward, wary. "No, you'd probably be right." my poison spilling back, a faint smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. A nod towards the bodies, narrow eyes watching the - now apparent - fishermen out the corner of my periphery. "You ever try reasoning with a drunk?"
My smile widened at the remark, although my stance stayed still. Toes pushed against the ground tightly, the nape of my neck still tingling from the man's seemingly sudden appearance. Damn distractions. My thoughts returned to the boat for a moment, the twitch of a frown at the edge of my face. Some level of suspicion had, no doubt, come from the man opposite myself as well.
So the midnight hands would do their dance, idly waiting for someone else to make the first move.
I wasn't sure what it was at first - only that it was hard. Blood spurted from my nose, a crack rattling in the mix of confusing emotions and traded blows. An exhale, the feeling of contact silent in the back of my mind as a faint stream of mucus and blood ruptured.
If I bothered to look back on things after the fact, there was no rationale left. Frustration, the spiraling lack of control; for both of us, it had already run out of control. And had continued to do so for a fair bit longer than we should've let it... How's the saying go? Let boys be boys.
I'd reel backward, the last bit of my momentum having been lost with my knee. Backpedaling from the impact, I'd end up with my sword loosely held underneath me - the cut it gave my leg only noticed later. My knees weak, another step back would end up with my hands in the dirt, sand strewn carelessly about. With a shake of my head, I forced myself up, turning to my book as I shakily sheathed my blade.
A short glare directed itself at the fallen chunin, a sharp exhale flying with spittle as I gathered my belongings, and hobbled my way home. "Fucking psycho. Sand?"
My breath - my chest - tightened, the swivel of my sword through air burning in my shoulder. The flying head soared, a muddy mess of blood and pebbles landing with a hefty thud. Another step followed, attention swiveling to the rapidly growing mass of soldiers attacking Goro.
My Iai-tachi slid back into its sheath, slick with the earthy mixture as I regained balance, spinning on my heel to push forward. Another breath, the thoughts in my head strangled for attention as eyes forced wide, darting to and fro. The shift into my knee, the weight pushing down into the earth - every motion pushed into a single, flowing pirouette. A moment of inspiration tingled down my spine, the long hours of scrolls and manuscripts pouring open the in back of my skull.
Flowing Sun: Crashing Horse. A tuck forward, an Iaido strike rising from underneath would strike out at one of the men's legs, my spin turning to release a second strike directly down on another's skull, the momentum carrying enough to carve into it's ribcage if the blow landed. Retreiving from the attack wouldn't be elegant, but my voice would ring out regardless, addressing the muscle bound monkey man:
"Disengage! I don't know what the hell is going on!!" the panic liquid as it burst from my lips, pulling myself backwards - and hopefully my sword - with whatever momentum I could salvage from the blow(s). If everything succeeded, we'd have thinned out the approaching line enough to slow them down. Maybe give ourselves enough time to understand what we were fighting.
@ event | 259 words | buki upgraded yeeeeeeaaaaaaaah boi
The smell of oil hung in the air, my hand guiding the rag along my Iai-Tachi, the sheen of the blade bright against the darkness that pooled around me. The moon floated quietly above, a faint sigh sounding against the crash of ocean waves.
The training grounds were positioned on the edge of Karakuri island, known for its clay-like soil; far more substantial than the usual sand many Kirigakure citizens were accustomed to. Made for good footing, something rare for here.
I'd continue polishing the weapon as I stared off into the distance, the sting of air against open wounds keeping me awake. A scrape across my left leg, a massive gash opened on my back - it had been a painful day. In the distance, one might be able to see the remains of what had been, but the shroud of night made it more than difficult.
A body - no, two - strewn across the area. Their heads were nowhere near themselves, having rolled quietly into the ocean... Hours? Ago. I shook my head, the frustration visible with flared nostrils. "Pain in my ass." Against the black sea, the bobbing waves flickered with moonlight - a boat approaching from the mainland.
"If these guys try to mug me, I think I'll lose it." the words were quiet, my hand releasing the rag into the water beneath. A step up and back, raising myself up as I sheathed my weapon. "Gotta find out, one way or another."
The quality of life in Kirigakure wasn't what I hoped for, in a day to day sense.
The parents had stories on what it was like 'back in the day' - faint memories of their own of a country that was turned inside out. They tried to make my life comfortable enough, but there's only so much to do about a grown man threatening a child for drinking money. And those were the good memories.
But there was some small comfort in the landscape. Not often, but on a day like this? Must admit, there is something to it. A loose thought, parading about an empty head as I stared quietly at the waves. Perched atop a massive rock at the edge of the shore, my Iai=tachi clasped lightly across my knees and under cradling elbows. The wind slowly pushed against loose strands of hair, the smell of the sea captivating whatever attention I had.
The suns reflection scattered wildly as a cloud escaped its sight, heat opening onto the nape of my neck. A sigh followed, stretching my right arm up and out, crooking a hand underneath a popping shoulder. "Mmm. Time to get moving, maybe."
No point in bothering to remember what event, get together, or other nonsensical invitation I was ignoring for the day. No missions for the next few days meant I was free - not like I could be lazy. "But what if I did?" I'd question aloud, arms sliding behind my back, pushing and holding myself up. Probably makes you rusty...
Benkei Style Iai [Kenjutsu | Apprentice] Originally trained in classical Iaido, Nomura has incorporated a unique way of footwork that bucks and rotates the entirety of the user's lower body. Comparable to a drunken sailor's wobbling, he claims the inspiration came from his former master's drunken swagger. Still figuring the direction and applications of the newly focused movements, he finds it difficult to land killing blows with the blade, often slipping his guard in inopportune positions.
↳ Iai-Tachi [Weapon] A soshu forged sword with standard curve and appearance, it has no benefit aside from being solidly average quality. The belt that the sheath connects to his belt has a slightly shifted loop, letting it swing in either direction on his hip.
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Benkei Style Iai [Kenjutsu | Journeyman] Originally trained in classical Iaido, Nomura has incorporated a unique way of footwork that bucks and rotates the entirety of the user's lower body. Comparable to a drunken sailor's wobbling, he claims the inspiration came from his former master's drunken swagger. Having a fair understanding of his own movements and those of his opponents, he can attack from a variety of unusual angles with a devastating initial power. Followup strikes lack the same strength, an Iai slash providing the main offensive brunt of his style. Capable of slipping into blind spots, his blows are difficult to read.
↳ Iai-Tachi [Weapon] A well-used soshu forged sword with standard curve and appearance, it has been battered into familiarity. Once a slightly above average blade has been sharpened and reformed, granting it extra cutting power. With a unique belt loop, the sword's sheath can be maneuvered freely, creating unique angles for Iaido related strikes.
Silence hung in the air as I distanced myself further from the building. I didn't particularly care if the kid continued to tag along, but keeping whatever was left of my lunch down was not particularly easy. It also didn't help I had no idea how to respond to his question.
Otogakure was always known for this kind of stuff... or so our mission briefing had detailed. Experimentation that would make most war criminals blush - and more than likely whatever had been in that house. Kinjutsu... Demon... One of those guys with a dozen eyes, what were they called?" A shake of the head, standing still as my gaze turned back through the leaves.
"No clue. Not going to worry about figuring it out, either." I turned, narrow gaze tightening on Kakesu. "Don't think you should, too. Probably never come near that thing again." My tone left little room for argument as I turned away again, moving back towards the village.
The stench reached me, underneath the chaps of raging flames and the distraction of dozens of men and woman swarming. Death. Something wasn't right.
The mix of blood and dirt came as a surprise - the jolt that slammed against my shoulder not so much. Sloppy footwork. Toes pressed down, pushing forward into what remained of my momentum. The blade heaved, pulling out of soil lined skin as the edges of my robe were cut short. The noise....
"Tch." The snapping of teeth, a grimace flickering as I tightened my focus. No point in trying to regroup if this... Whatever, this is, doesn't go down. My iai-tachi swung backwards, sheathing as I created distance. Two might have been ambitious, but one of these things didn't seem too tough.
I'd have to find out what the hell was going on eventually, but right now I held back, digging my heels into the ground as my stance lowered. Traditional stance work, nothing to be particularly proud of. Assuming the soldiers were as mindless as they acted, I'd respond to any immediate advances with a horizontal Iai strike at their necks. Assuming otherwise, I'd have to advance on them in turn. Get done with these, move on to the next.
"Yeah, sure, whatever." the edges of my face almost slipped, my hand grabbing hers. The idle grin, shaky as it might be, was important among particular... types of people, and indebted betters were some I considered roughly in that category. Was it worth the coin? Obviously.
The tone in my head found wanting notwithstanding, I began to tug our way through the crowd. A few more dirty looks, and a few attempts at forced conversation from onlookers, and we were once again at the entrance. A cough tickled the back of my throat, cutting into an awkward silence as I let go of my sensei's hand. Idling scratching the back of my neck, a shrug followed as I spoke. "Yeah, that was... Not great."
Rumors weren't always big winners, after all.
Out of the corner of my eye, a rapidly approaching, and very angry, man was approaching. My focus snapped back, turning rapidly on my heel. Before I could speak, a roar enveloped the beach - "WHY AREN'T YOU AT YOUR POST?!!" - the volume almost popping my eardrums. A faint bow to Makoto as a I ran off towards him, almost a 'sorry'. Not much of one, even if it had been sincere. "Coming!"[/font[
Not going to be able to sleep tonight... Bemoaned in the back of my skull, a long night dawdling ahead of me.
Clenching muscle, the kiss of metal to air - my step forward released itself with a spike of force down, tucking my chest deep and all but tackling through the 'barricade' of sand. My promised hair cut for the - admittedly long haired - hyuga was cut short, a bag of sand finding itself hurled towards me as he backstepped further.
Its contents spilled open, the window of action leaving me little room to think or function. What it gave in spades was compromise, or more accurately, improvisation. Bulging veins, the constant whirling of sand, it was all starting to visibly toll the chunin, the sound of his breath audible. Mine as well - the sword wasn't light.
Break their concentration. Memories of an ancient lesson from the academy, trying to instill the most basic trait of a shinobi. Not ninjutsu, not kenjutsu; but sneak attacks. Low blows, dirty tricks. There was some consideration for the sand as my blade touched the sky, empty strike in front of Asura. Instead, my knee jumped forward, shifting the entirety of my weight into one more 'jump' forward.
"Wheeew..." the faintest whistle, the sight of buildings lit with flames bright against my frown. They sent us as reinforcements, and unfortunately, it looked like they needed them.
A thought ran through my mind - Scary. Not particularly helpful, but being on the cautious side would keep me alive long enough to figure that out; or so I hope.
My gaze took time to slip back to the woods that had faded behind us, fingers tightly gripping the hilt of my iai-taichi as realization began to dawn. "What the fuck?" managed to slip from a slack jaw, backpedaling as an ape-guarded man began to swing himself into the fray. Unfortunately far from the oddest thing I'd seen since coming to Otogakure.
I turned my head, trying to take some grasp of the situation, back up, take hold of the situation. If I had been so lucky - a pair of the seemingly alive? Shinobi targeting me. No time to think, no time to worry about what was going on.
My left leg buckled, falling forward and to my left. Drawing my blade, I'd strike forward and to the right, shifting from the fall into a harsh right sidestep, before carrying forward the strike in an attempt to wound one and behead the other. More importantly, I'd be looking to create distance, and regroup with the afore-mentioned wall of muscle(s). Power in numbers.
Snapping jaws, twisting branches, the bulldozing mass of fur and flesh smashed apart half a dozen trees - only to come to an abrupt stop at the pile of corpses A sniff, audible in the stilled air. Sweat clung to the back of my neck, my focus far too narrow to even notice the attempt of comradery from Asura. A slow, quiet exhale, as the last seal formed between my hands.
The bear seemed to take notice to the both of us almost immediately as I did, its nose pointing up to the sky as it stood on hind legs. Empty eyes stared blankly, unable to parse our location for the moment. It would be enough for either of us to act.
My chakra rippled out, projecting itself into a clone falling gracefully from the tree. A breath followed, clenching my sword tightly as I leapt to another tree; the clone catching the bears attention. Another roar.
Now! I jumped at the opportunity, heal spinning back against the tree in an attempt to strike down - my iai-tachi slicing out towards its chest. My accuracy wasn't going to be the best, but with backup... Well, I hoped Asura would prove useful.