Much to Yumi's delight, Naoki had agreed to help her train! While it was only a week ago that she had woken up in the hospital, she had been cleared and released just the day prior and wanted nothing more than to triple her prior efforts in becoming a shinobi. She knew the odds were entirely stacked against her and that it was pretty much a hopeless case, but something urged her on in the back of her mind; a dark corner of her brain that wanted to get revenge as it covertly manipulated the rest of her thoughts towards that malignant goal.
Unfortunately she was running a little late that late evening, when all the students had gone home and the complex was almost deserted. She was not sure why Naoki had asked her to meet her at this location, or even this time, but it brought her back not-so-fond memories of that night class which had forced her to wear that garish weighted outfit. She reflected back to when her parents had refused to allow her to wear it while at home with them, and how she had defied their wishes in secret when she could. That thought caused the girl to forcefully blink away the desire to bury herself in self pity; there was no way she could become a shinobi is she couldn't keep herself from crying.
Garbed in a form fitting black t-shirt that didn't quite cover the scarred skin where her right elbow abruptly ended and looser fitting matching training shorts, she jogged into the training pits where Naoki had instructed her to be. She hoped that the girl hadn't left, not that she truly expected such, but there was always that possibility. Across her shoulders she had that familiar black dufflebag hanging on her right side, its bobbing slowing to stillness as she herself slowed to a casual walk, only slightly out of breath from her trek there.
Unfortunately she was running a little late that late evening, when all the students had gone home and the complex was almost deserted. She was not sure why Naoki had asked her to meet her at this location, or even this time, but it brought her back not-so-fond memories of that night class which had forced her to wear that garish weighted outfit. She reflected back to when her parents had refused to allow her to wear it while at home with them, and how she had defied their wishes in secret when she could. That thought caused the girl to forcefully blink away the desire to bury herself in self pity; there was no way she could become a shinobi is she couldn't keep herself from crying.
Garbed in a form fitting black t-shirt that didn't quite cover the scarred skin where her right elbow abruptly ended and looser fitting matching training shorts, she jogged into the training pits where Naoki had instructed her to be. She hoped that the girl hadn't left, not that she truly expected such, but there was always that possibility. Across her shoulders she had that familiar black dufflebag hanging on her right side, its bobbing slowing to stillness as she herself slowed to a casual walk, only slightly out of breath from her trek there.