[attr="class","APP3"]Despite the overwhelming disadvantage that the jounin gleaned, the young man had a fighting spirit. Seiichi, while not the fan of the theatrics in battle-monologuing, could appreciate that. The impact against the tree was a rude one, but through perseverance and a fire that had unfurled suddenly in their belly, its red hot tendrils to tease beneath his heart, recovering would prove no overbearing task to the ginger. He saw that look in his eyes, that one of hunger and contempt, one of a young man who was prepared to throw in the very essence of his life if he deemed it necessary. He broke forward in a sprint, the tree to the back of his foot as he used it for a kick off for an upstart to momentum to transform into a strike. With his postured lowered, prepared to use the legs in his muscles to drive home his kick, he could have looked like a predator...

If he weren't facing Seiichi Koji.

The jounin's sense of battle gave him an obscene advantage-- albeit, if it weren't already present for the fact that there was a multitude of years and echelons of strength and speed that kept them apart. With a careful eye he had examined it all: a venerable combatant, he was moving between both his opponent's foot work and shoulders as the young man undoubtedly repeated motions he had seen many times before. His shoulder betrayed him, telegraphing the nature of his first strike and Seiichi, subsequently, had no problem reading the hook that was unfurled towards his chin. Drawing in a quick breath he responded to it with a swift interception, catching the fist with overwhelming ease using his left hand as Gao returned into his field of expertise. The clench upon it was inhuman and unshakable, tight and foreshadowing of his fate to follow as the man clad in a pelt of bear fur clenched down tighter and suddenly twisted it until an unnatural, upright position: a classical move from a more gentle art of combat that relied on grips and holds to secure victory. He pulled him forward in a manner meant to throw off his center of gravity and, unless the young fighter had an inhuman manner of blocking out pain or found a manner to escape, Seiichi would abuse his advantage and slam his head forward like a literal hammer forged of chaos. It was a brutalizing blow, exercised with all the advantages afforded by the momentum he generated with the pull, the leverage of his height, and is insuperable lead in power.

A hideous and ugly noise would crash through the forest, made to bend around the trees and unsettle birds from their perches if it were to land. It was a totally unnatural sound not meant for the likes of human ears as their foreheads collided in that brutish and jarring manner. If he somehow could remain conscious after such a decisive strike--the sheer brain rattle enough to steal the consciousness from a man--he'd throw him off to the side to collapse onto the ground if he failed to catch himself from such an overwhelming strike. "Go home. Find me when you're stronger." He provided sagely insight at this moment with his gravelly voice, looking to where the young man would be laying if he took the strike head on with no opportunity to brace himself properly or dodge it in the first place. It was there that Seiichi, a man who could down trees and shatter boulders with his superhuman strikes, recognize that a willful strike of his would end the young man before he could recognize it. He waited, for now, to see if the young man retained any consciousness; alas, still he remained in that very same spot.

[attr="class","APP3"]In this moment of theirs, a world of privacy offered by the rigidity of the tent flap, they both were allowed the patience and opportunity to realize things without the contempt of others to criticize or drown them. Unbeknownst to the caregiver and her patient, they were a crutch to the other in these outward musings. There was no restraint in those melodious words, any concern that bound their true nature was undone as the space between his ears was refitted to become a resting place for that summery voice as he listened on. She revealed what Seiichi could only recognize as frustration, a sadness in her sentences as she expressed what must have been her own monologue on the situation at large as greed, ever a forward lurch for mankind, stalled her art and the ability to improve it. Despite their time of peace, there was no doubt conflict on a horizon outside their scope, one that added to the plague that was obtaining knowledge and furthering those mystical arts from which her gifted energy could further expend. Their world was increasingly becoming one where opportunities, and often life, were taken in breadth of each other as greed and conscription to the village militia were only dealt and exchanged with life.

". . ."

A warmth radiated in his chest and it bloomed like the very lotus beneath the glow of a sun that it cherished so, a heat unknown to the burly shinobi until now. It rose, slowly, rolling upwards from beneath his powerful chest and searing his throat shut to such a degree that the thought of a breath was inconceivable. Its advancement north remained unhindered, traveling up his neck and beneath the short and unkempt beard worn on his face. It was a dizzying heat, one which permeated on his flesh like the glow of a iron left in the pit of a forge. It connected from left to right, crossing over the bridge of his nose as it was a dyed warmly in crimson. It even extended to his ears, a caper of warmth to leave them burning. As it came naturally with this sensation, though much unlike how his body had handled anything before, Seiichi felt those rough and calloused hands of his come together in a way they hadn't before: his thumbs twiddled, seeking comfort in an idle action. He didn't know what was going on. It was an ephemeral moment, one unlike he'd ever experienced before. What was this power in words? No, more specifically... Perhaps it was her power in words and these emotions that she could invoke within him.

"I came here. . . because I had to-- it was nothing," he assured her with that gravelly voice, the pause brought on by his own struggle with words as he adapted to this new horizon she had brought him to. There had been many things he had learned in his life to respond to: punches, kicks, counter-movements and measure... but never words so kind. She had finished this step in her treatment, leaving him for the first time in what felt an age as the water left upon his flesh dried slowly. She required a new set of tools, but understood nothing beyond the scope that they were all required. The shinobi, having no discipline in the healing arts, could never hope to identify all the utilities required to effectively repair another; in fact, all Seiichi had ever known in his life was how to break things. It wasn't long before Mai returned to stand atop the metal frame of the bed, 'Kuma-Kun' having never moved. He felt a new pressure, that of her shoulders as she leaned against him with her elbows for support. He felt a sting but made no mention of it as he assumed that it was only a part of the process; she felt weightless against him, an ode to her petite frame.

"I once did," he revealed with thoughtfulness in that rumbling voice. "But if a man punches me, I punch him harder... and..." It was a revelation to stew upon, a rightful confirmation of the laborer's initial fears: that he was a monstrous beast, a killer. There was no joy in his words, no tinge of accomplishment to accent his sentence. He did it because he had to. As a shinobi, there was no other way out. He resumed his silence, perhaps the grizzly man found solace in the emptiness that came about soundlessness that enveloped him.

"Do you fear that?" It was unlike him to ask the question, but she had caused within him a change. "Knowing what thrills you but always finding it outside your reach? How would you... change that?" He probed the genius that was Mai Aburame.

[attr="class","APP3"]It was a soothing experience, despite the initial pain he felt when the water kissed the torn flesh of his wound to clean it of debris. She had smoothed a wet towel over that sizable wound, still so gentle as she made it a priority to stand him back up. Had those kind eyes of her been analyzing all the time she had been behind him? Had the women found herself at all preoccupied by the prospect of danger those countless scars exhumed and why hadn't she distanced herself from him? What possible life could a man have lead to leave him in canvas so brutalized, seemingly left to the woods and begotten by beasts? Her words were dulcet as they left gently from plush tiers and spoke in a way that seemed only fit for his ears as this space was only theirs. The man felt as if the essence of anxiety had broken down before her, each melodious and quiet sound the lull of a soothing lullaby to a tune he had never known. It was there that he felt something unlock, something he had truly never felt before. The doting hand that trailed against that unnatural cut was no longer met with the tension of his back, made firm by the exaggeration of muscles so rarely well hewed.

". . ."

Was this an insuperable guilt that he felt? Could it explain this mountainous melancholy that crushed him that, for the first time in his life, left him feeling so feeble? It was an unbearable depression, of the likes which he never wished to witness again. It was in those scant moments, thereafter, that he felt the gentle thrum the kunoichi had lulled his heart into stilled and the refreshed breaths her sobering presence brought stolen from his lung. It was in the words she had said: she was a kunoichi. It had crossed his mind, certainly, but he had only hoped that in her application of such mechanical methods of healing that she had no talent with the flow of chakra, with guiding and calling on those set of skills to unfurl and come forth by her beck and call; alas, unbeknownst to him, he was in the presence of a literal genius. Whilst she was tender in age, there was a talent about her that--perhaps--he would never again witness in his life.

He was the bearer of knowledge he had never wish to known, the burden of it nigh insurmountable. There was no reason for Seiichi to turn upon her the moment she revitalized him, to strike her down as some cruel trick when all she had done is express a sincerity for the well-being of another that he'd never received before. What plagued him now as a ring in his eyes that would no longer end, instead, was what would occur after? Despite their talents, their persons, their histories... They were all but pieces on a boarded game, so stacked in odds against them that they were never made to win. He kept to his silence for a while longer, despite the question she had asked him. It was his nature, wasn't it? To be so distant from others? Even then, she spoke to the brutish man fit to call the wilds his home, in that concordant manner of hers, never faltering or presenting doubt as her sincerity--and in turn, serenity--never wavered when she dismissed caution and revealed herself to him.

"Kuma..."

His response eventually left him, to slip quickly between his lips as if he was unsure of it. Kuma no Kumo was the nickname he'd been given--just the tip of it, actually--almost a title among the locals that came to knew him for rather obvious reasons. But, to the young woman who knew nothing of his history or his person before he stepped into this tent? It could have very well been his name. "Why are you here?" He asked after sometime, the gravelly nature of his rumbling voice added an air of intensity that didn't belong to the question, not in the way he asked it. He remained where she had sat him, at the edge of the bed with his hands upon his knees. He felt the trickle of water run down his back, absorbing into the belt he wore; unbeknownst to her, his headband had been turned over in the sash, hidden from all but eyes of divine birthright. He would not reveal his ninja status. Not now.

"Thank you... for meeting me, Mai..."

It was almost as if shaping sound into intelligible words helped the colossus of a man. Instead, and perhaps unbeknownst to her, the words left him in a duality of relief and sadness.

Mai Aburame

[attr="class","APP3"]To walk in this land of Otagakure had felt like walking on the bones of something greater, of something older. Had that not been the case, though, when the great village fell and in her place rushed in vultures that were prepared to carve in their greed swathes of land? Despite his sentiments--and, also, his purposeful separation from politics--he had found himself here on a political stance, the Raikage imploring him to show face for Kumogakure. He had spent a great deal of times in the wilderness, wildlife plentiful in these lands as a majority of it had been taken over by nature. At some point he had even gotten in a fight and, at another, the jounin found himself training diligently in a dojo only to accosted by smaller men who saw him a foreigner.

Even with its lower population, the streets were still rife with life in all shapes. Children could be heard playing as their feet thrummed wildly against the ground in the heat of their games. Not far and, in fact, all around people could be heard bartering and trading as Shinobi from foreign villages were implored to enter and make purchases. The air was blessed with a fresh scent as bakers baked and shops turned their signs, fryers to burn and soon bubble as meals were prepared for the day. It was a melody of tasty scents; alas, however, as not all was well. As unfortunate as it was, this was hardly the fault of Otogakure. The world had a penchant for ne'er-do-wells, clusters of populations creating pools for them to be found around. For someone possessing the statuesque of Seiichi, however, that was seldom an issue as few dared approach the man and even less sought to stir trouble with him.

But not everyone was born like Seiichi.

Cries tore through the murmur of the crowds from an ally he had once walked by, the screams of a woman could be heard. "No! Let go! These are mine! What are you doing?" She screamed for all to hear, two men dragging her into this crevice of society, pulling her in until her voice was muffled by the surrounding buildings. Blows could be heard landing, perhaps that resounding ring only born when blunt objects struck flesh or butted against bone. There was a crowed he was forced to weave through, pushing aside and mowing down a group would only be a further cause of concern here. The man growled as he worked to push through the many that seemed to turn a deaf ear to the situation, perhaps all to familiar with what was going on.

If someone didn't make it there soon and accost those who were trying to rob the lady, they could get away or far worse. He had only heard where cries came from but, not for a moment, had the shinobi gotten an opportunity to steal a glance of what they looked like as they acted so quickly. This was one of the few moments where Seiichi which he had back up.

Aiko Hyuga

[attr="class","APP3"]Far be it for Seiichi to possess advantages for the mere divinity of his birth, given something unattainable by standard means by the virtue of his family name. Both his eyes and ears were mundane, but his mind was sharp and the thrumming heart in his chest dauntless as adrenaline brought it to a quicker drum. His platoon and its partner were two gears turning, each primed to support the purposed turn of the other. His worries of the genin, a spirited girl with a penchant for recklessness, were dissuaded as she mounted Kakimaru and could now forge her own manner of escape upon the mighty beast's back; on the other, Korogaru was dismissed from the arena entirely from the opposing force, large and sturdy pillars of earth tore through the cracked crust of earth in a manner that personified the beast's volition. However, this move afforded the Kumo Jounin a buy into the action.

It was apparent that the veteran shinobi, some of which he recognize from internal squabbles during his own militant tenure, were on the move as their independent actions would be the sum of this beasts demise. It was here that Seiichi allowed himself a brief moment to dismount the claws that hung from a hook woven into the belt that gave his gi its shape. Then, when his grips were secured around the handle of his claws, Seiichi broke forth into an incredible run. He moved so quickly that his speed betrayed any natural premonitions forged by the lumbering appearance of his beastly statuesque, the Jounin achieving a ground speed that did well to expose his area of focus if his stalwart form hadn't already done so. The rataplan of his calloused feet could be heard as he thundered along the ground with crashing steps, circling around the back of the gorge they had been overlooking as he moved to prime his approach. This had only been possible for his starting position as anything further would have made his terribly normal ears incapable of distinguishing those voices that chimed with dissent that had been bubbling before the situation had turned. Upon reaching his destination across the pillars, of which were willed by the stomp of the rhino, Seiichi briefly backed up before...

He untethered himself from the earth with a supernatural leap, reborn a bird of prey as he flew through the sky.

He ripped himself from the ledge of the gorge with a superhuman tension in his legs, a few steps back taken to prep his jump. The jounin's claws were brought forward as he'd use them to catch himself on the side of the pillar for any miscalculation in his jump. All the while that this occurred, it seemed as if the orchestration of a great ninjutsu had been completed. He watched, from above in the sky, as dust was kicked around and the vague shape of a sphere revealed to him by the suggestion of the dirt that swirled around it, fitting it sveltely as if it were chiffon for scant moments. It was a glutenous technique, propelling forth with the intention to destroy, although it would leave the pillars he sought unscathed and no less erect than before. He braced himself for the impact as he approached, an unbelievably insurmountable tension was seized by his form as he braced for the collateral of any impact against the pillars, which were eight meters tall. He succeeded, sliding only briefly before he scaled it and stood tall upon it.

The rhino's avoided it, maneuvering around the pillar of earth as any sensible being would-- despite the little natural sense about them. He was prepared to abandon this post if it became a danger to grand for even he to overcome, but now he watched on until his battle sense, forged by plentiful encounters, could afford him more of the situation. This was far different than fighting a man, men, or even wrestling a beast as finer details--the twitch of a shoulder or the shifting of feet--were lost in this sea of gray flesh. Should revelation be granted to him by the aid of another or by a mistake of the rhino, Seiichi would move to strike. But for now...

"FIGHT ME!"

His cry for battle boomed forth like a thunderclap, that stentorian quality to his voice heralding the challenge to wherever the rhino hid. Tact would not serve him here.

[attr="class","APP3"]The morning of their departure had arrived and it couldn't have been any sooner as the jounin reeled for action. Men clamored about the deck and shouted until they stirred the ire of the birds that squawked back in challenge to their boisterous and proud shouts. Many loud and cheerful of returning to the waters -- as well as returning home. There were a great many hands on deck and many of them were of varied shapes and sizes, none too unique from the other that suspicion could drawn. The boots of men hurrying on the wooden boards was a deafening stampede, a great many of them heaving massive crates in pairs as they loaded on the cargo. There was a great many things to have been brought on board, organized to the tune of a specific system that recommended that the most valuable of all be kept publicly visible, but beneath the duress and scrutiny of another series of impressive tiedowns and locks that both captain and overseer understood as diversions.

For, blended into their crews along with the rogue, scoundrels and sluggards, were two men of the second platoon in Kumogakure. They had arrived early on, their recruitment an elaborately engaged process as the two shinobi were forced to utilize their stealth as well as their acting, brought to play on the convincing role of deck hands. The owner of the vessel was privateer captain and a man who had invested a great deal into the trade and commerce. Through the morning both men were reliable in the efforts of loading the ship, bringing on crate after crate onto the cog ship as the sun rose and soon hung up high. It was a hot sun, an unforgivable one. It beat loudly on their flesh as no obstructions lofted in the daytime sky. No one complained, though, as these men had learned well that it did little well to focus on ones discomfort, especially among the company of several other men.

". . ."

The jounin, who had foregone his standard gi and pelt for something more natural to the role he explored, paused to view the ship. Despite his abnormal size, a venerable giant among these more gangly and sun burnt men, his clothing wasn't too far off as he wore a simple shirt--though more of a blanket considering its fit on him-- and straight pants that stopped half-shin on him. There was still a distinct lack of footwear as, after all, those calloused pads that were apart of every footstep were rough enough to smooth stone or sand a plank to its finer grains. They had begun to near the end of their loading, the cogship that had been fitted for this journey was middling in its length but still bore a grand load as it was responsible for the transport of both man and material to the mainland.

CLANG!!!CLANG!!!CLANG

A tocsin that they would depart soon, calling all men near the ship should have had wandered off briefly or gone below the docks to relieve themselves before surrendering themselves to the constricting, closed confines of a ships deck. "LOAD YOURSELVES ON!" Demanded a voice which screeched from the aftercastle of the ship, a bulwarked end for an added means of defense. That was their summoning bell and the pair of platoon 2 were wise to have followed that call. The ship numbered a good twenty men, many mundane in their looks and surely their intelligence by the expressions worn across faces aged rapidly by the salt-water air. None of were an impressive build, but several of the men were of a more rotund torso but advantageous height. "We're days out from the mainland. The smells in the wind tell me the route'll be clear for our travel. No worry of water being our sully."

With few words exchanged thereafter, perhaps to reduce the thought of suspicion that eventually rendered the services of to shinobi, the canvas unfurled from the mast. It flapped as it rolled down, reaching its full length in no time. It was untethered from the deck and, soon, longboats appeared beyond the aftercastle as the half-dozen boats worked tirelessly with oars. Man waged their war on physics, for that moment, as they strained themselves to budge the ship. With their perseverance she trundled forward slowly and, with a gust of wind to fill her sails, she jumped forward. The captain's focus was now out on see, finding the current he'd travel along so many times ago.

Had there been truth to the missive they took for the mission, they were bound to be waiting for hours before anything more occurred.

Now came the struggle of finding his sea legs, but his indomitable will would serve him well.

[attr="class","APP3"]There was an insufferable heat in their gaze as all eyes peered onto his person with no dissuaded concern and onto his wound with contempt. It had been a searing uncertainty that could not go unnoticed as Seiichi transgressed from the open space where they could see him to a more private tent, where the Jounin was soon to examine his wound with a more critical and intimate eye. Like disease on a new land, murmurs broke out in a wildfire manner as words of dissent that among the crowd. Even to his mundane ears, could their concerns be humored: they thought he would devour her whole, body and soul, the moment an opportunity would arise. Some boldly claimed that mountainous beast would bat at her with those swollen paws, frightening hands to rend flesh and shatter bones so he could lap from them like a meal. Despite her critical and wise judgement, the confidence they bestowed in her character analysis did not go unchallenged. Surely, should she survive the encounter with a man that seemingly teetered so dangerously on their perspective of conscionable acts and savage nature, the men with tenure among their laboring group would accost and challenge her for the decision when the alternative was to send him away into the wilderness from which he came.

". . ."

Such brutality was to never be the case as the purity in her resolve proved the finest and most tampering bane to any malignant facet of his character, quelling the mocking moans of those unfair judgements cast onto him. Where his form exhumed a dangerous and deathly miasma, a sheer tension in the atmosphere to be born that seized the area around him and likely roused such initial alarm, Mai dauntlessly placated incident with a boundless kindness, one of which he had never experienced before. Any duress that the bear-clothed goliath had been beneath was unfurled in a most benevolent manner, the jounin that tended so carefully to his wounds among a different breed of human as parallels grew harder to draw. Her power must have been inconceivable, even to the likes of Seiichi who bore the burden of ghoulish and unnatural strength.

". . ."

There was an unnaturally resilient property to his flesh, but numbering scars that had dulled and faded with age, were enough to draw simple conclusions from. The weapon that had rend him so cleanly was no doubt unnatural in its nature for cutting so magnificently--so surgically--through an otherwise dense carapace hewn into a mighty armor over years of personal war and attrition; the width of his shoulders made exploring his back only a littles less than scaling a mountain, even upon the edge of the bed on her most tipsiest of toes while he leaned forward would make for an unexpected challange. He flinched at the initial sting, the sound of his discomfort first secured by the sharp breath he stole; perhaps even a reminder that even he still felt pain.

"I cannot..."

The words, like the echoes of Titans that had long been forgotten, eventually slipped from between his lips as she nurtured his wound to a stable state. "It is no path of mine." Seiichi explained in the chasm of what was the enveloping silence that the tent afforded them; this had been the most he'd spoken in all this time. Was there a reason that she approached him with these old methods of medicine, where others would instead mold their chakra to stop the bleeding or seal a wound? Perhaps it was the humility in the action, to clean and dress another with unyielding attention and undivided attention. He looked over, the finer features of his visage on clear display as they were no longer obscured by the pelt he wore; it was removed along with the gi to grant her access to the wound. His eyes were betrayingly kinder than his imposing frame could lead one to believe, but they were not without a haze brought own by unknown means.

"Your name?"

He spoke unprompted. Another ode to his humanity, but only among a few that had already counted; perhaps, despite that grizzly and unwelcoming appearance of his, he was a shy child in a mature body.

Probably not, though.