Leaves From the Vine [Private | Req. Tenko]

[Kita Shiori]

The air was heavy, moisture beading against anything that stood still long enough, and a soft but overpowering scent of loam and crushed flowers riffling through the stillness. Despite winter’s icy grip on Kumogakure the Yamanaka’s glassed-in greenhouses displayed a fecund warmth not easily found even in the most well-heated manor. Shiori stomped her booted feet several times at the entrance, displacing snow and slush onto the welcome mats, before gazing at the overgrown space in awe.

It was a different sort of warmth completely unlike a banked flame, almost oppressive in the way that it pressed in from all angles. Stretching her arms out, Shiori wriggled her fingers, curious at the slow curl of disturbed air so unlike the cuttingly chilled winds outside. This was one of the smaller greenhouses connected to the Yamanaka plot with only four long rows of well-tended greenery. In the center of the space was a long rolling path, liberally dotted with farming tools and covered with a sort of dark burlap to keep the heat in.

The pamphlet at the gate had indicated that this building was turned over exclusively to the tropical variety of hot-house flowers, but Shiori spied a few puffy shrubs and what looked like a dried-up tree trunk nestled on the furthest burrow. She spent a few minutes walking the space, sniffing appreciatively at the blooming flowers and brushing against their lush petals. These were wholly unlike the spikey wildflowers she had picked back home, or the tiny purple stars that spread like wildfire beneath the sage scrub.

Overhead great glass panels were welded together, creating a patchwork of transparent walls, only the bones of the greenhouse visible from afar. It was early afternoon, and someone had spread translucent skins of dark red paper across the sloping roof. The weak winter sunlight pierced the dyed material and cast diaphanous shadows over the growing flora. Humming softly to herself, Shiori picked out a sturdy wooden ledge to the inner most row and sat.

She still wasn’t sure if she believed that Higeki was going to show, that the offer of a joint-training session was real. Smoothing her hakama, Shiori shook her head, smiling faintly at her own nerves. The other girl had sent a note early that morning, and Shiori had been the one to pick the destination, gleefully leaping at the chance to get away from the Academy’s main campus. It didn’t hurt that the Yamanaka greenhouse complex was quiet and tranquil, just the sort of location where they could focus without interruptions. Curling her toes, Shiori watched the nearest plant, wondering whether it breathed the same as she, or how it managed to strive unerringly towards the sun.

 

[Higeki Tenko]

An unfeeling expanse of blue.

Her gaze encompassed the whole of her destination, picking out the tropical Yamanaka building and the shape moving within. She slipped from the branch of a tree with grace, lingering snow on its bark following her decline to patter uselessly against her heels. A quick tilt of her head cleared her hat of the cool substance, rising her feet above the slush that threatened to trap them and taking careful steps down the incline that'd lead her to the greenhouse. Her breath fogged the air before her with every conservative exhalation, blowing back across her cheeks and shading her piercing stare.

She had learned from Takeshi not to be so frivolous when it came to the cold. It was a smarting lesson, of course, but a ... pleasant one, in the end. Woolen gloves pulled across her fingers, borrowed from the ninken Kumo earlier in the day at her softly uttered request. He was a very smart dog: a very good dog, regardless of what Takeshi might say. There was a play of affection across the lines of her lips while she thought, hidden by the cold and distance. Her vest was a hair bulkier than the normal attire she donned, mirrored by the thickened cloth of her shorts - still remaining that much, however, as she didn't wish to simply hide from the cold. Her only need was that she still be able to move with efficiency.

It had been remarkably easy to convince Kita Shiori to meet with her. This was a relative relief, the barest notes of excitement building in that studious way it did with an underlying tingle across her limbs. She had wanted a chance to train, privately, with the other kunoichi since they met briefly in the Genjutsu class they had taken together. That class was a resounding success, and one that influenced Tenko enough for her to apply more focus to the genre as an addition to her skillset. Shiori specifically had caught her eye more than the lessons, it seemed, which is why she approached this door now. The girl's answers and overall perspective - her response to their short examination especially - appealed her to Tenko as a partner.

If they branched into more than Genjutsu during this correspondence, Tenko thought that just as well. She was interested in Shiori's growth as a shinobi from her initial classification of a nervous wallflower; she had the mind to serve their village, would she have the drive? The skill to apply her ideas? This train of thinking was met with the only degree of enthusiasm Tenko could muster; acknowledgement. If her fellow student couldn't live up to these expectations, this would be a chance to further meet her own. There was no loss in either scenario.

A polite knock, a wipe of her feet, and she stepped in among the warm fronds that breathed a new life into the surrounding air. Tenko exhaled again, taking in the spicy aroma of the tendered plants and closing her eyes for the second she allowed herself. Another step and she realized the clothing offering her minutely more coverage than normal had been rendered unnecessary - there was a heat inside that quickly beat out the cold gnawing the windows, one that presented itself pleasantly but warned of discomfort if they mingled for too long. That was to say, Tenko didn't mind either way.

A stoic appearance in front of Shiori, the barest whiffs of chakra steaming & curling within Tenko's veins and between her fingers. "Good day, Kita-san. Thank you for honoring my request to train with me today." She spoke in a monotone, every sentence a statement with solid foundation but no decoration. This was the peak of pleasantries Tenko afforded, moving onward with a shift of her foot to a defensive stance and a prime of her hands. "Shall we begin?"

 

[Kita Shiori]

Shiori perked up as the door swung wide, a gust of chilly air the only harbinger to Higeki’s arrival as the girl entered cloaked in still silence. Tilting her head, Shiori straightened her shoulders, a soft smile curling at the edges of her lips as the other kunoichi in training took in their surroundings. Perhaps she had not been here before either, in which case the greenhouse was a place of mystery and rare beauty. Whether Higeki was surprised by the veritable overflow of plant life, she masked it well, pausing at the threshold only to clear her boots before striding unerringly towards Shiori.

Those icy blue eyes never strayed, and Shiori stood, wiping dirt from her hakama as she swiveled to face Higeki full on. The second meeting, no longer chance, and yet Higeki was as much an unknown as the first. For sure, Shiori was pleasantly thankful the girl had deigned to arrive, but her pleasure couldn’t quite erase the confusion.

After Higeki’s first offer of joint-training, Shiori had done her due diligence and asked around the Academy about the steely girl. She had not found anyone who claimed to be a close associate or acquaintance, and what had been revealed was stark enough as to spark her doubts. Why, after all, would such a successful trainee be interested in the lowborn always struggling Shiori?

If there was one word she would use to sum up Higeki it would be efficiency. No motion wasted, no extraneous words or expressions. She was like a calabash gourd, scraped free of the soft pulp with only the hard-outer shell remaining. It made Shiori curious. It took effort and intention to make a yugao. So, what was the reasoning for Higeki’s restraint?

Perhaps she would be graced with the answer. For whatever reason Higeki had shown, and seemed intent on interacting for all the myriad of reasons otherwise. Shiori set aside her disbelief, like flawed cordite, to assess later. Her faint smile bloomed, welcome and warm, as she bowed at the hip towards her year mate. “Hello, Higeki-san. Thank you for coming here.”

The politeness was stilted in their after school arrangement, unnecessary even. But she felt the yawning chasm between them more keenly than could be ignored. Fumiko-sensei had offhandedly complimented Shiori this week, mentioning her raw potential in the same breath as she had critiqued the teen’s lack of discipline. No matter how hard Shiori trained, how many books she read, she would never gain the effortless knowledge of those who had been raised from the cradle to their craft. Besides which, Shiori was certain Higeki was the sort to appreciate recognition of the unspoken hierarchy upon which they danced.

Straightening smoothly, she noted offhandedly their height difference for the first time, and let her smile become burnished like copper. Straight to the point. There was a lot to be said for that method. Higeki’s demeanor was refreshing, like a buffet of chilly wind. At times startling but all the same invigorating. “Yes, of course,” she demurred politely, stepped back to give Higeki access to the space. Bare feet traced the scratchy burlap, earth hard and frozen beneath the protective layering as Shiori replanted herself in the middle of the wide row.

“I was not sure if you wished to practice Genjutsu further, or something else?” Shiori’s tone was friendly but empty of all cadence, carefully obscuring any signs of her own feelings on the subject. At the end, she gestured with her eyes at Higeki’s stance, the other girl coiled like a ready spring in a way that made Shiori doubt they were here to discuss theory.