[attr="class","APP3"]He had been treated for wounds in the past before. It was a consequence of his training. Surely she'd seen them, those hideous and mangled hands of his. They're been broken countless times. The flesh had been ruptured, the skin had been torn countless times and worn to the bone. They were heavily calloused. But they healed. They healed back each time, harder than the last as he honed them into weapons. More ugly than the last. They were meant to be deadly, they looked hideous for it was only hideous things that they knew to do. In his on search of power, it was this understanding that he would have to forgo the more gentle things in life if he ever wished to continue, if he sought to see his desires all the way through. So, to Seiichi, to have this moment of placid respite where the world didn't seem to be enveloping and closing in on him or its judging eyes weren't weighting his spirit down or to push himself to exhaustion, only to awake in a pool of his sweat and rise to do the same thing again, it was hard to process these thoughts. It made him realize that, perhaps there was a life, he should have not forgone as a price to have begun the road on his path to power.
". . ."
He drew a weighted breath, a slow inhale that expanded his large chest and gave rise to his expansive shoulders. Despite his inactivity, there was certainly a maelstrom of thoughts that warred behind his set of sea-green eyes. Was this weakness? To doubt those decisions he had sworn himself to so very long ago? To consider that--at the price of blood, sweat and tears--perhaps his choice was wrong? Yet, at the same time, he hadn't felt those things at all. Seiichi felt, for the first time in his life, in a quandary. To categorize these thoughts and to make sense of them was far more difficult and even more so tedious than striking hard at a rock or a tree.
Words were not exchanged by the Bear as she went into her explanation, urging from him a degree of patience that would make or break this situation. Seiichi instead nodded and looked down. It would take a moment to begin but when it started, he knew. It was a heavy feeling, an enveloping weight. It absorbed his wound, engulfing it in that pure energy she projected after moments of concentration. There was a heat to it as it revitalized his flesh, rousing a biological process that would take weeks to initiate in a matter of moments. Seiichi could feel it, that pull of his flesh and a tug. It wasn't an awful feeling, his own hands had been subjected to far worse, but it was by no means pleasant. Through her mystical arts and the hand that projected it onto him, he would heal quickly. Mai Aburame spared him no ounce of treatment as she bound together his blood, muscle and flesh.
She spoke to him, his mouth stilled as she did so. She spoke kindly now, even when she opposed him. There was no harm that he meant in those words and, perhaps, she was correct when she expressed that they become better versions of themselves. But was there such a fate for Seiichi, an ending where he could 'truly' be better? And to what means would it serve anyone but himself? It was another cause for thought and, in reality, perhaps one of the many things he would meditate over when he found the opportunity to return his training. The healing went on for a period, slow and steady was the process with its consistent pressure as it pulled together what had been rend by an abnormal blade.
". . ."
In time it would finish, the wound healed. It was a difficult technique, surely, as few ninja could use it to such a degree. Was this, perhaps, why she took the opportunity to tend to it in the old way first? He had felt the pressure release and would lean forward, slightly. He rolled his shoulder and then the other. "You fixed it," he stated the obvious, rolling it once more. If she were no longer leaning against him, he'd move to stand up. He roused himself to his full height, towering over her even while she still stood on the bed. He would turn to face Mai, moving slowly as he seemed little different than a golem of earth animated by magic. He'd take a step back and, it was there, that Seiichi expressed his gratitude for what was the last time. His knees would bend and he would settle onto them, leaning forward in prostration. It was delicate signing, but it was to emphasize his appreciation, his respect and his trust in her. "Your arts have healed and your words have soothed. I thank you, Mai," he expressed in gravelly voice of his, a sincerity to his words. He would not retain that position for long, eventually moving to stand, once again, to that full height of his.
Taking a step forward, he would offer her a hand. It was rough and calloused, clearly a paw that had never known rest. But it was there for her to shake, should she take it. "When I find a better me, I will become him. Then may we see each other again."
But without even knowing it--or perhaps he had--he lied. There was no telling what a future they did not shape, held. Mai Aburame
Last Edit: Sept 25, 2021 16:06:43 GMT by Seiichi Koji
[attr="class","APP3"]To call the small man before him eccentric may have mischaracterized him. He was of a dainty breed and an insignificant build and, if those details weren't suggestive enough, of small and dainty hands that were nearly overwhelmed by the fanciful threads worn on his frame, of clothing he'd only seen women of affluence wear before. He gave a sniff -- then another. Was that... Lavender? What they they been doing here, this small one that called themselves 'rabbit'. Seiichi looked to the pink-haired individual, the ears of a rabbit to sprout from their rosy set of locks as they remained erect and alert to their surroundings, most likely leaning an advantage of awareness to the small rabbit who stood so oddly in the forest. What had brought them here, what desires drove them so deep into this den of death with a disregard to the danger they could undoubtedly face?
He spoke in verse, it seemed, recanting words not known to his ears. Despite the Bear's own ignorance on the matter, they were no less true to the rabbit and Seiichi knew better than to dissect these things, to propose challenge to one's thoughts or beliefs when unwarranted. They were spoken in and soft and gentle tone, a manner much unlike the energy that had existed in this forest: His was a knife, now, that cut through the tension and were perhaps the way this rabbit dealt with these moments of unyielding suspense, of stress propagated by the deathly auras emanated by creatures most deathly, foul and overgrown. They had been kings along the forest's floors and its treetops, having once ran rampant with no force powerful enough to bring them to yield, to stop or stifle them. They waged war among one another, collected in their packs, and often assaulted strangers or new comers to their lands.
-- Until Seiichi had shown up.
As Hikari stepped forth, a gentle step no different than the nature of their appearance, that sensitive nose would be greeted by a masculine musk befitting of the detail those curious ears decipher off of his beating, thrumming heart. By all speculations he was large -- no, larger than life. He towered over the young man, a single tree-trunk like leg was undoubtedly larger than he had been. It was no wonder that these monsters and beasts struggled so against him as, in any lifetime before this one, they were never pitted against a man so capable, so dangerous and unrelenting on what he took as the building blocks of his own power. If there was anything that Hikari would perhaps come to learn, in his time amongst this man, was an unyielding drive that often possessed the knack of putting him in predicaments not often considered by man.
"You are safe,"
It was then that a hand of his extended. It was an ugly hand, misshapen as a consequence of his desires. It was large and calloused unlike any the young rabbit would have witnessed before, the finer details of countless scars were evident on them as, through his own volition, they had been broken countless times before by as a product of specialized conditioning. Punching hot coals, rocks, trees and sand bags cursed him with paws that would never fit a set of gloves again, but were instead now capable of punching through countless types of material. He turned it over, that calloused and ruined paw of his, and held it out for the rabbit to take. "So long as me move together, small rabbit, no beast nor shade of death will prey on your flesh." Seiichi's was an earnest attempt of fanciful language, despite never using it. Perhaps, in his willingness to help, he mirrored that manner of speech to lend comfort to the rhyming Usagi besides him, the small rabbit lost in the heart of a deathly den.
Had it been taken, it would feel rough. To the more delicate, it was assault to the senses that such a tool was meant to be wielded by a person. They had been weapons responsible for countless degrees of destruction, even death as suggested by evidence along the unseen portions of the forest. If the rabbit neglected the gesture, as they were within the right to, Seiichi moved to withdraw his hand and bade them over in his direction as he soon began to mobilize outward.
"You mistake me," returned that stentorian voice. It was large, loud and powerful as it rumbled with its low tones and reverberated within the hollowed woods, the pair spared the threat of beasts as they scattered in the wake of Seiichi's advancing presence. "I am a man. I do not tell these beasts how to react or how to respond. I do not control their base instincts," he elaborated further as he led them through the darkening wood, the slivers of light that once lit the path were diminishing; instead, in their stead, came the twinkle of eerie eyes in the darkness, all a palatable distance from the two. "Not all in here fear me."
"Not you.'
The Bear of Kumo clarified on their walk, a truth that he recognized immediately. Despite his mundane senses, his ears were not death to the hesitation in the boy's voice or the feigned smile upon their face when they action had been attempted, but Hikari confirmed his bravery for moving besides the bear.
"Tell me, Rabbit, what is it that brought you to venture deep in the heart of this den? What is it in your convictions that overshadow the bravery of even the strongest men?"
@hikari
Last Edit: Sept 25, 2021 13:51:54 GMT by Seiichi Koji
[attr="class","APP3"]It was then that they were pulled out to see by the longboats, the Cog they boarded assuming its senses at this point as the canvas that been unwound caught the bracings of the wind which set the fabric to billow forth. With the guiding hand of natura, thus was their mission into motion as they floated out into the sea. They were met by a crash of water as it smacked against the ships hull, the giant vessel washing out into the sea as it as rocked by the tumultuous splitting of the ocean, the great expanse burdened with the task of seeing their ship to its destination, should it make it so far. The winds were restless as the whipping of gales could be heard curling around the hull of their ship, sweeping droplets of water onto the deck that soon turned into puddles and were bound to continue in their growth unless otherwise mopped up; the mid-oceans breeze was refreshing and warm, far kinder than the tundra's of Kumo.
It was to be a potentially dangerous mission, with an unknown element to who their enemy was. It had been suggested it was shinobi of Kirigakure, Kumo and Mist having been at odds since even before the great whirlpool incident had occurred. Among the crew, however, Seiichi was not so sure of the intel as most men seemed mundane, if not incapable of anything more threatening the a punch they'd prepare by winding their hand back and letting it fly forth with no measure of caution. Still, Seiichi kept a careful eye on the details around him: what could be used as weapons, what could be used to shield himself against in order to exercise his surprisingly versed technique of stealth? There had certainly been boxes of his size around and, as far as weapons would go, hauling crates or even tearing planks of the deck up would suffice until he could close in; he had been meticulous of where to find his claws if the need should arise, a fact hidden from the crew and known by only the captain and Chinetsu. Despite his overwhelming size and the mischaracterizations that came along with it, there was a more tactical mind that brewed quietly behind a set of keen, sea-green eyes.
Seiichi walked upon the deck now, the numerous men upon the ship all set with varying tasks as they busied themselves. Some, however, played games and others danced; one was the most vigilant of them all, however, as he stood atop in the crow's nest with a keen and observing eye in an attempt to spot trouble with his looking glass that collapsed; despite its simple design, it was capable of a field of view of 1000 meters. This was his sole role and, if there had been any concern, he would notify the crew of seaborne threats, however he may find them. In time the Bear of Kumo happened upon Chinetsu, a man his senior in age. "We're vulnerable. I know some of your dossier. But we're not useless," he mentioned with that low voice of his, the words seemingly rumbled in Seiichi's chest before they were projected from him in that stentorian voice. "Make note of what tools we have here. To them, we're nothing more than crew men unless we've been betrayed from the outset." Seiichi expressed before turning away, his words meant to encourage Chinetsu to note what could supplement his jutsu with what was typically found aboard a ship. Despite their focus in other disciplines, they were still academy taught and graduated.
She was a beautiful ship, middling in her size as far as Cog's went and built high with its defensive structures should a threat of archers reveal themselves. However, when it came to the boarding of a threat, that's where the two shinobi of Kumogakure would set in. It was required that, for now, they remain vigilant and well prepared for what was to come -- if anything. They continued forward on the vessel, rocked by the waters as the day went on. It would take sometime before they arrived.
[attr="class","APP3"]It seemed that Seiichi's existence was an affront. That gaze was an uninvited one, the Jounin himself unsure if even his partners in the past had spent so much time... gawking. There was no mitigating the benefits of his uncommon statuesque, his biology to blame for affording him such a member. Yet, despite being endowed with an appendage that required an entourage wherever he went, he'd not come here to show it off. There was no reason for him to tape it to his thigh when it had only been a natural part of him. Those brittle people of papery skin and graying hair had been far more respectful, the old men of this spa having no desire to measure king kong dongs for the title of King of the Spring. Yet, the man did not relent as he shamed Seiichi further. What stoked such raw ire? Had it been that natural selection deemed him Alpha where all beneath him were Sigma who tried their darndest? Despite the fact that it could be a registered weapon, perhaps even a tool for Bukijutsu with fanciful enough gyrations and roundhouses, Seiichi had never killed anyone with it. Why was it, then, that he was being treated as if he were caught red-hooded?
"Loo--"
Fuck.
Fuck.
He was resigned to this fate, the tone beneath that laughter a familiar one. Even if he hadn't been so certain, his suspicions were no doubt confirmed one he began to speak. They were both Jounin of Kumo, months apart in age-- in fact, they'd even completed the academy alongside the current Raikage. If theirs fates hadn't already seemed bound, then the fact that his younger sister was Seiichi's Fang--his disciple--would clear out the remaining doubts. Alas, he settled in the water besides Seiichi, but not without a quip of the forearm kept beneath the waters. Poor man... Maybe he was better off binding it to his thigh.
"Legends say the waters will swell it without the sting of a bee," he interrupted with that loud voice, a baritone that toed the line of bass, before the pair had an opportunity to have at one another's throat. "Leave or stay, now you know." Had a secret in life been revealed to him at no charge? He'd not answered his previous question, having been cut off. With the goliath's words considered, it was safe to assume that people did not mind for he was a testament of what could happen here.
[attr="class","APP3"]She had gone sky high, going so far as to almost pierce the very heavens until...
She turned her disadvantage into an advantage. With a shout that rang from her lungs and a mighty whirl of her body, she was soon homeward bound as she returned to the ground like a dervish dropped from the Heavens themselves, the scorn of her fury quite unknown. She missed him on her landing, the Jounin having no issue with reacting to her speed given a generous warning. However, a mass of dirt and dust were kicked up on her crash, clouding her form briefly. He had already taken several steps back as she was landing, his feet quick to take their steps as she was due to come at any moment.
And she had.
And like a harbinger of destruction she tore forth with the dust-wrapping around her like chiffon. The cloud dissipated behind her, the rest blown away as a result of the Inuzuka's speed; she'd only been on the ground for moments before she engaged those well-tuned joints to shift her forward into a breakneck lunge. Seiichi had only created a minor amount of distance between the two of them as preparation for the oncoming onslaught. He tucked quickly into a roll to the right as she lunged at him, recovering swiftly as the pair moved in and swiftly dissolved the distance that was between them. Analytical eyes watched as her shoulders moved, refamiliarizing himself with her formless style of combat, her aggressiveness no different than that displayed by the Inuzuka branch long-established in Kumo. As she went to rake at him with those inhumane claws, assuming her movements were meaning to span the entirety of his massive chest, she'd find that Seiichi moved in quickly to parry. Having followed her telegraph and committing to his timing, he expected to succeed in the parry of her blows with open palms that slapped hardly her forearms with his superior strength, aiming to null their momentum as Makoto remained at a range Seiichi was most effective in. Giving her no moment of respite, the jounin moved to strike quickly with a hellish combo that contained a blow with his right hand to her left shoulder, his left hand attempting to chain with the strike as he committed to her right hip and then, finally, a kick from his right leg to her left, meaning to break her balance and spill her to the ground. It was a quick and successive combo and, if it were successful, he'd hunt he even as she laid there with a powerful punch intended on ending the brawl by leaving her reeling for breath and blinking the Cosmo's into existence with the stars she'd see.
However, if his timing were off, he'd brave her rending and wear fresh wounds from those razor-like claws, backing up to reassess the situation and lesson more mortal damage.
[attr="class","APP3"]The day would come to dawn with Seiichi already hard work beneath a diffused sky. It had already been hours that he was hard into his work, always taking the opportunity to practice and further improve his craft. He had been working on grip strength, now. It was a grueling exercise and a far worse experience. Without jugs and sand available, the shinobi instead went for great rocks which he groped from above. Unnatural as their shape was and unfit for the purpose they were, they soon were forced into a role by Seiichi Koji as his unrelenting spirit warred through the attrition found in their initial handling. Like jugs for of sand he lifted them, swinging them to-and-fro in his grip while his core remained stationary. The weight of those ill-suited rocks was not undeniable, the strain felt after a length of time as the shinobi continue his use of them, borrowing them from the earth just a little so he could become stronger.
Despite the wear he felt and the moments he could not will vitality any longer into his arms, Seiichi did not despair. Keep an internal clock on just how long he had held it one time over the other, he'd reset and keep count. Each opportunity of failure was seized and repurposed as a way to continue his forward development, to continue forward with a goal in mind and a note on every step taken to get there. It was than that he soon settled into heiko dachi, the parallel stance, and would repurpose those rocks he clenched so tightly into weights to practice strength training the way one would use a ishihisashi. It was from that stance that he coordinated his breaths, lowering the great rock with an exhalation as he'd lift with the other on an inhalation. It was the practice of that hard and soft technique, where the breathing was hard and exhalation was gentle. He would raise them high, then above his own chest, and soon into the sky where he held it suspended for a short duration. The same was done for his other arm. Like all other forms of his training, this was something which Seiichi continued. He worked beyond his exhaustion at every opportunity, the man a heaving pile of sweat as it eventually built around him, standing in his own puddle as his forehead gleamed beneath the rays of the sunlight.
And then he moved on from the training with his improvised ishihashisashi's, setting them aside as his intention matured. Seiichi would sacrafice a portion of the day, unfrotunately, but it was not in vein as he found what he sought: a giant rock. With consideration of his strikes, as well as a meter to the strength he supplied with every blow, the Shinobi soon punched into the rock. From its surface he would beat away mass, shaping it to his desire. He struck with precision and expertise that left the surface smooth and unexpectedly clean, as if carved beneath suiton and pressurized water. Even to this age, with as great as his age had been becoming, he improved. It was a large boulder, as tall as he was and even wider. To cut it down to side, where he sought to make it more narrow than his own form, would take considerable time as every strike required a consistent level of scrutiny. There was no lessening his blow, there was no empowering it. Having developed a form and a method to this strike training, Seiichi continued upon this and seized yet another opportunity for his improvement. It would take time, but with her perseverance, he would shape his own crude kogoken.
Having shaped a tube of earth, only achieved by the control of his strikes, Seiichi was not able to move on with his training further. He would lower his stance, making his legs strong as his back remained upright. With the kogoken sitting on its flat edge, he'd roll it to one side and cross his arms, then rolling it back. He continued this, the flower of weight and power transitioned between both ends as his forearms and shoulders soon experienced a strain and tension. He didn't stop, but instead sped up. Faster and faster this motion would go, flowing the roll into another, and then out and onto the otherside. It was as he played his own game of ball, passing it back and forth and worked all the muscles involved with such a manner along the way. Seiichi continued this, growing powerful still as his muscles were wrought with pain and turgid as a corpse, stiff and frozen.
And yet he continued, breaking through a ceiling.
Last Edit: Sept 22, 2021 11:49:44 GMT by Seiichi Koji
--Nay. Not even a second was had. Something stirred off in a fit of rage in the distance, the rousing agitation disturbing waters that were set to still after just a moment. A voice, almost shrill, brought rise to calamity as they squawked in what was an otherwise placid atmosphere. Was he to raise a mighty hand and flatten every fly that cried curses to his name? The notion was less than laudable, given his position within the very village, there was some notion of a vestige in appearances to keep to, behaviors to be replicable. That made such a route improbable, despite how often that road begged he travel. It was better that he ignored it, knowing well that few chose to poke at a bear, even if sleeping.
Unfortunately he had met one of the few.
They'd risen out of the water in an abrupt haste, besides themselves with a dramatic flair. They waddled with an urgency, a desire to free themselves of Seiichi's overwhelming presence. Not without a quip, however, abandoning any opportunity to leave silently. He could feel the weight of their gaze, a glare not unlike the first that spanned the waters they shared for all but a fractioned second. At first: silence, nothing in return. A deep breath was drawn, elbows to spread on polished stone as he sunk deeper into the water, but much of his torso remained above: the curse of abnormal postures was a burden of abnormal height. "Better question," his voice rumbled out in a stentorian manner as his eyes opened, head turning to the face the man that stood no more than a measurable few feet in their passing, "what if I didn't?" A rhetorical question traded for another, the first posed in a manner to make a point over getting an answer.
"No -- don't," the line of his forehead had lightened, the furrow that pinched his brow dismounting as it lessened. "You're not from here," obvious -- it was translated easily in their appearance, much unlike a person of the cold climates found in the Lightning Country or even his village. "My apologies -- I won't be long. The water is yours when I'm done." Seiichi spoke as nonchalantly as that voice of rolling thunder allowed him, that baritone timbre of it making any manner of speech the serious endeavor.
He asserted himself, whether the man chose to stay or not. Möngke Genghis
Last Edit: Sept 22, 2021 11:10:20 GMT by Seiichi Koji
[attr="class","APP3"]How many years had he been into his training now? Too many to keep any solid count on. He had started young--very young--and numbered fewer days of rest than fingers on one hand. He grew to become a venerable giant, a goliath of a man who had been recorded somewhere above seven feet with bloated muscles hugged tightly by flesh decorated in scars of varying degree, but none of them of a handsome aesthetic: they were faded gashes, long cuts and stretches where flesh that had been rend by the visceral swats of feral beasts who played the role of predator or prey. They grew in number of the years, a testament to as many good things as bad as each experience had only made him stronger.
And yet...
They tired that wild man, wearing those roaring flames that unfurled in his belly to the pitiful remains of miserable dregs that struggled to twinkle even their last embers as they faded to darkness. They wore the hewed muscles of his form greatly. He worked tirelessly towards one goal and day by day he drew closer with the proper toll of blood and sweat paid. Yet, despite his best efforts there was a finite ceiling to denying the limits his body imposed and even he found it difficult to shatter those bounds. There were always repercussions in the end but, be it a broken finger or even a broken hand, he'd never relent. Though, even Seiichi Koji recognized he needed a break.
And what better place than a spa?
It wasn't his first time visiting this locale. It had changed, drastically, from the place he had once known it as. There had once been mention of it being a jewel in the tundra, the gem beneath a frozen and turgid crust with elements imbued in the waters that replenished youth and restored vitality-- subsequently, the most scandalous of reviews swore of fertility and virility being improved after just a single visit, even more if engaged within the waters. Yet, the aging bodies and graying staff that went along with it did little to bring color to that romanticization. However, these were not the things that drew in Seiichi Koji. The man now entered through the hot spring, nude to the world in no manner different than he entered it. He was a wall of muscle, no degree of it less hewed than the other as a trunk-like torso was equally met by strong and powerful legs that looked to task for scaling any mountain or wading through any active battlefield. Everything on that jounin seemed exaggerated, far beyond what was meant to be equipped on a modern man, often more svelte in make and model.
The pads of his heavily calloused feet, hardened to the same lethality his very hands were, were audible as he stepped around the polish stone that encased the water. It wasn't long after he settled in that a decompressing exhale was to leave him. It was the sign that the wear of his form was soon to be addressed. Maybe there was truth yet in those claims -- to a point, he believed so. The tension that seized his muscles, once having been turgid and aching, was slowly released. He leaned onto his elbows, head cocked backwards as his eyes were shut. Despite how absent he looked, though, there was no denying that he remained very lucid and an overdeveloped awareness kept him keen on threats. Möngke Genghis
Somethings didn't change with time. Across from Seiichi was the Inuzuka whose stance lowered instinctively and her form warped into something bestial: her eyes sharpened to a knife's edge, her appearance turned feral and from her maw ambitious teeth were bared and gritted while her claws sharpened to daggers. It was déjà vu for the kumo ninja as he resumed his own stance in preparation for her advance. Despite her formless stance, there was a methodology to the Inuzuka clan's techniques that he'd come to recognize after their numerous encounters. There was a focus on her shoulders as they would telegraph her movements far before anything else, a heavy reliance placed upon them as they were front and center on her approach whenever she'd decide to break forward. The rumble emitted from her throat was a brontide, the quake of thunder that warred in gray clouds off in the distance. He'd only begun adjusting his own posture, lowering it as he'd silently commit to seizing his victory by new means--
And then the thunder came.
She dashed forward like a manic beast as her sudden thrust forward kicked up dirt in her wake. Makoto's movements were telegraphed no differently than the mad-dash of a feral creature aiming to strike until they could seize the kill. She had gotten faster, no doubt, but so had he as the benefit of his hellacious training was found in his drastically improved physique. Despite the speed, her attack was simple and straight forward and as she closed in to land to first blow with her barreling strike, he'd side step to the left-- her right side. It was a quick and efficient movement, timing her plainly read attack unless she had prepared misdirection and drew his attention elsewhere. With confidence in his timing, he reached forward with a mighty, calloused paw and attempted to grab her. There was little chance in escaping his grasp unless she had the talent within herself to pivot aggressively. If he succeeded, she'd feel the clamping force of his machine-like grip on her upper-right arm and a tug on her clothing by his left hand as he seized that too. Seiichi would grunt violently and, with all his might, the bear attempted to redirect her force with a swift twist of his torso as he'd lift her off the round with a spinning step and let go.
If all went according to his plan, he'd launch her high. She'd be speared into the sky without an idea of how high she'd truly fly. It was a hurdle only made possible by the redirection of her raw power and his powerful trunk, leveraging the strength found in his twisting step to finalize the send off.
The goliath before her had relegated himself to the comfort of his silence, his jaded gaze cast carelessly along the floor before him as she returned to her diligent tending in the realm of his wound. She spoke to such adversities with an empathetic approach. Mai succeeded in projecting that, despite her shorter years, she possessed a veracious understanding that allowed her voice to acquire greater purchase upon him and she managed to speak to him as opposed to at him. It was a considerate reply, made after the gentle hum of a springtime bee. Fear. Was that what he felt? In all of his years of living, Seiichi Koji could not have admitted to being fearful of any one thing. He lived meagerly and, along with tacking on the responsibilities of a shinobi, he had tirelessly worked himself to acquire his vast station of power. He worked hard. Worked himself with broken fingers. Worked himself harder--still--with broken hands. He viewed respite a weakness and a disease he could not fall beneath. Was there something truly capable of bestriding his accomplishments of strength and leaving him pinned in such an indefensible manner?
"I have... trouble understanding. I do not fear things." The words would rumble forth after a ruminative pause, his speech deliberate as it was slow in delivery as she roused within him questioning he'd yet face. The bear whom she treated often excised himself from groups and social circles and was this the reason? Had he learned long ago that feeble as his attempts were in evolving his own strength and finding foes to match it, he had slim chance and he loathed the thought of abandoning his pursuits? Had this kunoichi, a muse and songbird blended, succeeded in coaxing from the jaws of a beartrap a demented cub whose expressions were raw and untampered? When he had approached this camp, the thrum of pain felt upon his back had set Seiichi Koji besides himself in frustration and fury that only evolved, mounting and souring into something an order of magnitude fouler. Yet, beneath the council of Mai, who had humbled herself to the lowly post of tending to the wound of a vagrant, her reflective words stirred something yet known to Seiichi.
"But that isn't what you are saying..." He came to the understanding gradually, the fog of his mind clearing. "Thank you, Mai," he began after a settling air of silence, left to hang long enough that his appreciation aged well. "Your words remind me that I am no vain actor." He admitted. It was in this conversation he exposed himself to that he had found the assurance of another. It was a warm feeling. One that slid slow and heavy arms onto his shoulders in a motion to envelop, as if she'd taken the opportunity to lay on his weary frame a warm and heavy blanket and embraced him tightly over it. In all of his reclusive life, the jounin who ostracized himself far from the marvels of comfort, had never experienced such a comfort. There was no mother to embrace him, no father to wipe his tears and urge him to try again. He'd hardened far too quickly and was doomed to crack beneath a self-imposed and inhuman pressure. But Fate had rendered from him those final faulting breaks and presented him with an opportunity: she was an Avatar of this process, a being that despite his indominable strength, he could never hope to better -- nor would he ever try as he quite liked basking in the warmth embracing and radiating light.
"It may be selfish... but I hope you do not change."
A slow and labored breath was drawn, massive shoulders to swell beneath her nurturing touch as she tended to his wound.
"You may have saved me." He rumbled softly, his most delicate words almost deaf to the ear. So abruptly and without prompt, they may tickled beneath the toes of hyperbole. Yet, from Seiichi, they slipped with the utmost it way with sincerity.
Miraculously, it seemed, she doctored another wound the likes he knew not of. On the other side, hidden from her, had been the soft expression which melted onto his face. It was no longer worn turgid.
[attr="class","APP3"]And so the man continued, a venerable behemoth as he steamed away in the cool of Kumo, the wind whipping around his form was the only respite he'd dare endure for he feared a simple moment of rest would subdue him. He had trained various ways: calisthenics, lifting, striking and even refining his kata as he struck those ageless postures with ease and perfection, guiding himself through the flow of combat established by masters long past. There was not a moment wasted, not a breath spared as he focused on his breathing all the way. There were few things that the jounin excelled in, but the art of the physical form had been a mastery he never neglected. This was his calling, his destined path as he strove to push himself beyond that pinnacles had been dreamt. Seiichi Koji aimed to become something greater than aspiration or dreams.
----
He returned to the practice of his striking. Instead, however, relying on a fist to punch he worked a different strategy. Just as he would with a punch, with his fingers fully extended, Seiichi would dare stab into the trunk of a tree with all digits of his hand erect. It was a tireless action, withdrawing his hands and breathing in sharply as his brow twisted into a hideous and tight furrow, his teeth gritted and bared as he would stab into those trees again. His punch was powerful, well trained, masterful after having been etched into his mind over his long life. However, to reduce the surface area so dramatically and the base of which the impact would bottom out was a grueling measure, if not cruel. Instead of his hardened first, akin to the end of a warhammer, it would be the tips of his fingers that stabbed through the trunk of a tree. It was a difficult task, regardless of how powerful the man had been, to keep his hand so stern despite the clear pain he even felt.
But, what was the advantage gained if he focused on nothing? With a deep breath drawn, his lungs filled with the fresh air that surrounded him, he cleared his mind. His focus was on nothing more than the action itself, the mechanics of its and what was required to drive it forth. He explored the muscle control in his hand, the constricting and squeeze of various groups to empower the thrust as it ran forth like a devil's lance. Still, despite his striking power, his break through the tree trunk was not complete -- it was not powerful enough. In response, his focused evolved. His thoughts expanded, moving beyond the physical benefits of his form and instead explored his very own chakra points. Seiichi imagined them, thought of them, breathed chakra in and out of them as he worked it within his own breaths.
It was through this that he found his revelation, that he found power. With the control of chakra expanded, the jounin moved onto to perform far greater tasks with his hand as his focus was reinvested and reinvigorate, set ablaze like a roaring flame in a loathsome wood. He would layer this on. Focus. Focus. Focus. He could feel the power that surged into his hands as he thought of the moment in which he would impact, visualizing the exact second before his calloused pads collided with the bark of the tree. It was there that he would blend the tightening, that hard constriction, of his fingers and then awake that point along the hand. It was here where he would persevere, it was here where he would succeed. No longer was he burdened by the angst and trouble of not performing the technique correctly for the first time.
It was here that the Devil's Lance was born.
Last Edit: Sept 21, 2021 5:13:25 GMT by Seiichi Koji
[attr="class","APP3"]She had sized him up from the very beginning. This time and the last-- that time and the time before that, even. The Inuzuka was an avid stoker of flames, maybe a junkie addicted to that rush brought on by facing adversities in a manner most dire. To her breed, there was no greater satisfaction than tackling attrition head on while discarding their well being, so long as they seized the moment. His bloated muscles meant nothing to her as she prodded at his chest, quite literally poking at the bear with her claw-like nails as she seized every last inch between them. Seiichi would be faced with Makoto just inches from his frame, prodding still and looking up with a challenging grin and a deathly hunger in her eyes. There was no disregarding a twisted smile that had been beset on her wild features. It was no less earnest than the grin of a child as they anticipated reward for their hardwork. Despite her initial detest for the alcohol he offered, having set the gourd on the ground at some point, she had become far more drunk off something else: her confidence.
"You talk too much. You always have," the cloud jounin scolded the Jounin of the Mists with a tone nothing short of disapproving, voicing his ire for those monologues she dared fringe upon in her her endless barrage of taunts. Befuddling to the jounin, she seized every opportunity to stab at him as if it were her tax to earn breath. He took a step back and created the first amount of distance from his sturdy statuesque to her petite frame. Then another was taken, follow by one more until he comfortably separated himself from the Inuzuka at aboout 5 meters. If she'd given him time to step back, as opposed to assaulting him at the cue that he'd accept her challenge, he'd begin shifting into a classical kata of the varied martial forms he practiced: Seiichi postured with both his left arm and left foot lead forward and his right drawn back in a tight fist, his right foot was placed further back to solidify his core or to break forward should he need to sprint.
"I'll knock words of your speech, for the next time." He promised with confidence, the jounin prepared to advance when he recognized she was ready. His strategy was set: to be quick and overwhelming. He'd grown considerably more powerful in their time apart, his strength and speed echelons above where it had once been. Had she, too, gotten considerably stronger?
[attr="class","APP3"]It was no surprise that the blow landed so brutally and with such unforgiving precision, any hope of interception was nil at his current level -- his currentlevel of power. Facing the young man, who had first came off as a nuisance, who approached him with all his might had successfully brought him to reconsider his position on them. Without a proper brace he had no hope and was forced to crumple back, hardly capable of catching himself on his feet as he slumped into a heap. It was a brutish attack but an effective one, nearly incapacitating the young man in a single blow from an unexpected source. Seiichi found his eyes settling on the bruised Gao, lenses to briefly watch his shoulders as he honed his foresight-- if he dared attack, even from such deliberating damage, would he predict it? It didn't matter, as such things never came true-- his prediction. In time, Gao would slowly turned his head up to eye the man with a passion in those lenses with their look much akin to cinders roaring with anticipating. Surprisingly, it seemed that even teetering on the throes of consciousness weren't enough to smother his fire, a flame now further unfurled.
"Kuma,"
Seiichi said once, loud and clearly in that stentorian voice of his that were sure to sound like the clang of bells to his quaking head. He bled heavily from the wound, as was natural -- the jounin had done little to hold back. "Leave and find rest." He suggested, but in that crass nature of his voice it came out no less than a command. It was there that, out of his own volition, that the kumo jounin would turn around and walk away. Unless Gao had a second wind to stop him, he was bound to disappear into the tree line the further he penetrated through the woods. There was no sight of him, eventually.
But...
Craaaack!
Without missing a beat he returned to what he had been doing, resuming his own training dutifully after the short excursion with a man that, judging by his meddle, would turn out to be a fine shinobi one day.
[attr="class","APP3"]There was a breed of insolence in her words, one even rare for herself as she managed to bring an ugly twist to the Kumo Jonin's brow. There was no getting around the fact that Makoto Inuzuka was fiery and had the most utilized foul-mouth Seiichi had ever bore witness to, but to speak so crudely on something she had no understanding on? Well, that should have came as no surprise either, but that was a poor excuse and it made Seiichi no less angry, let alone any less furious as his brows furrowed. The boy, brittle in frame and insignificant in structure, would do little good harnessing his fury and whipping it forth if the first punch would shatter his knuckle or prod him into an indefensible position. By the way which the bear recognized it, he saw that Makoto failed to realize that; though, be it from the blinding light of her own hubris or by ignorance, he was unsure.
"Only dogs begin with running. Man is not born that way-- he must be taught to crawl.." Her rival rebutted, a man she had encountered numerous times over the decades. Without the basics, such as recognizing the value of full and powerful breaths and the methods heightened circulation and bodily awareness brought, he was bound to fly to close to the sun under her guidance. There were numerous benefits, far too lengthy to preach to the woman, when it came to achieving bodily control that Seiichi himself utilized in existing through the grueling existence that was his training.
"You speak like breathing is all he'll ever do. Think ahead. You might see clearly for once." He fired a quip back to the woman. The sentiments she delivered weren't alien to her person. What Makoto did lack in technical technique, she had often made up for with the devious combo she made up with her ninken; it was for these disadvantages that Seiichi had, that he trained so hard. There was no doubting that burdening a ferocious assault was stunning and being backed into a corner, all the while, even more so. With the pressure she undoubtedly produced, there was no doubting her ability to command an overwhelming presence-- he had seen it before, after all.
"Depends. On your own? Not even close."
He rumbled, glowering with narrowed eyes and a well-worn crease in his forehead. He recognized that smile, that teasing grin of a predator all too confident in what they'd make of their prey. Somethings never changed.
". . ."
But, seeing as it was Makoto, that was ok. There was no better person that he could expect to deliver his eulogy -- that'd practically grown up besides each other, fighting opposite to the other.
Last Edit: Sept 20, 2021 7:51:42 GMT by Seiichi Koji
