A fresh spring drew out the life of the planet like he drew forth the animating force of a puppet, a guiding hand pressing that which wished to blossom into the path where it would come forth most readily. The budding grasses breached the wetlands and the roots that coiled beneath them gave them both berth and birth, room to grow and the opportunity to be there to grow at all. Yukiin regarded it oddly as he had very little interest in the scenic value of the place, rising from his campgrounds with the girl accompanying him asleep and safeguarded. It had been easy to ensure that safety in such an empty place where only dragonflies and mosquitoes buzzed, glazing the air with the sound of soft buzzing, by simply placing the tents below the water and with appropriate air tubes hidden amount the blooming grasses. With his ice this kind of craftsmanship was simple now, though he reamined slightly uncomfortable with it.
It wasn't challenging for him to command the natural world at this stage so he even wondered if these places, these untouched lands not yet scarred deep enough with the wounds of conflict, would someday be destroyed by even a shinobi as weak as himself. If a mere puppeteer could command a bog to become ice then his superiors would have very little trouble commanding the entire mass of trees to uproot themselves to strangle the opposition. This worried him mostly because he feared that he would not be able to find these places as easily anymore, realms where he could feel more attuned with the animal life and thus, he hoped, the more intelligent variations of it.
Yukiin stretched himself, sitting on a dry land-locked island in the midsts of the wetland with his eyes closed and his heart, breath, and soul receding into him to focus on what was around him. This place would be suitable. He extracted the scroll he'd used before, the fragrant incenses he'd needed to rely on suitable winds to scatter before and thus shattered part of his body in the process descending those scent-friendly mountains...but now? Now the shinobi would create his own winds, set his own fate, and make his own impositions onto the world.
The incense bloomed forth as the scroll was unsealed, blood drawn out and smeared across its surface as the air's currents twisted and buckled under the boy's command. It was not yet perfect, like water it had its own flows and he was unaccustomed with the environment, but once he had stretched his aura, his vital energy, out into this place he heard the rhythm of its heart beat between the beating wings of the insects and the swaying of the leaves. A mind's eye came with a mind's hands and a mind's fingers, guiding the winds like a maestro conducting a symphony and they finally relented with his gentle pressure, like fingers kneading clay into shape.
The currents caught the incense and held it, scattering was not the intention as Yukiin meant to permeate the air this time and infuse his artificial assistances with the non-artificial lands he occupied. He had some time before she awoke after all and found him, disrupting him once more, and he fully intended to use it liberally. It reminded him of the poisons he used, each granule and bit had to be carefully measured and managed, stretched thin until every cell of the substance would kill so that even a touch of venom would put a grown animal down. In this fashion he treated the winds, lacing them with the scent and the intent - to call and to be answered.
The Genin cracked his fingers, adjusted his headband so that his affiliation was as bold and clear in the breaching starlight as he was bold and clear to be making this demand of the beasts he intended to utilize for his advancement. Yukiin had been ignored once, he did not like the idea of it occuring twice though he worried, the nagging worm chewing at the back of his head, that it was a fault of his own...that he wasn't strong enough yet...or perhaps that he was simply unfit...
His puppets were set aside in the scrolls at either side of his body, deciding that arming himself would be at odds with his intentions, so he spoke to himself and for one of the first times without being motivated by wrath or disgust, using his own lips to speak his own words.
"I'm here."
[WC 760]
It wasn't challenging for him to command the natural world at this stage so he even wondered if these places, these untouched lands not yet scarred deep enough with the wounds of conflict, would someday be destroyed by even a shinobi as weak as himself. If a mere puppeteer could command a bog to become ice then his superiors would have very little trouble commanding the entire mass of trees to uproot themselves to strangle the opposition. This worried him mostly because he feared that he would not be able to find these places as easily anymore, realms where he could feel more attuned with the animal life and thus, he hoped, the more intelligent variations of it.
Yukiin stretched himself, sitting on a dry land-locked island in the midsts of the wetland with his eyes closed and his heart, breath, and soul receding into him to focus on what was around him. This place would be suitable. He extracted the scroll he'd used before, the fragrant incenses he'd needed to rely on suitable winds to scatter before and thus shattered part of his body in the process descending those scent-friendly mountains...but now? Now the shinobi would create his own winds, set his own fate, and make his own impositions onto the world.
The incense bloomed forth as the scroll was unsealed, blood drawn out and smeared across its surface as the air's currents twisted and buckled under the boy's command. It was not yet perfect, like water it had its own flows and he was unaccustomed with the environment, but once he had stretched his aura, his vital energy, out into this place he heard the rhythm of its heart beat between the beating wings of the insects and the swaying of the leaves. A mind's eye came with a mind's hands and a mind's fingers, guiding the winds like a maestro conducting a symphony and they finally relented with his gentle pressure, like fingers kneading clay into shape.
The currents caught the incense and held it, scattering was not the intention as Yukiin meant to permeate the air this time and infuse his artificial assistances with the non-artificial lands he occupied. He had some time before she awoke after all and found him, disrupting him once more, and he fully intended to use it liberally. It reminded him of the poisons he used, each granule and bit had to be carefully measured and managed, stretched thin until every cell of the substance would kill so that even a touch of venom would put a grown animal down. In this fashion he treated the winds, lacing them with the scent and the intent - to call and to be answered.
The Genin cracked his fingers, adjusted his headband so that his affiliation was as bold and clear in the breaching starlight as he was bold and clear to be making this demand of the beasts he intended to utilize for his advancement. Yukiin had been ignored once, he did not like the idea of it occuring twice though he worried, the nagging worm chewing at the back of his head, that it was a fault of his own...that he wasn't strong enough yet...or perhaps that he was simply unfit...
His puppets were set aside in the scrolls at either side of his body, deciding that arming himself would be at odds with his intentions, so he spoke to himself and for one of the first times without being motivated by wrath or disgust, using his own lips to speak his own words.
"I'm here."
[WC 760]
