Open Taijutsu 101: Augmented Armaments [CLASS]

[Chikamatsu Shin]

The Toraono Dojo's sparring room was far more spacious than Shin's usual classroom. The open floor had been cleared of obstacles, leaving ample room for movement and practice. Along the western wall, a long wooden table held an array of training implements that Shin was meticulously organizing.

The Twelfth Kazekage moved through his inventory with measured calm, dressed not in ceremonial robes but in traditional sparring attire. A clean white and pressed keikogi rested neatly across his frame, sleeves rolled back for ease of movement, its simplicity broken only by dark forearm wraps worn from long habit. A black belt secured the uniform at his waist, giving way to wide, pleated hakama that whispered softly against the tatami as he shifted. His pale-gold hair was left loose, framing his face as he waited, patient, composed, and unmistakably ready.

"Let's see... bokken for slashing techniques," he muttered to himself as he arranged the wooden practice swords in a neat row. "Bo staff and training tonfa for bludgeoning..."

His hands moved to a collection of wooden training kunai and tanto. "Piercing implements, check." Next came the wooden shuriken and practice senbon needles. "Thrown and projectile weapons..."

Finally, his attention turned to the most unique items on the table - several simple wooden marionettes in humanoid form. They were basic training puppets, unpainted and unadorned, with no visible weapons or mechanisms. Just articulated wooden figures that could be manipulated with chakra strings.

"And the puppets for understanding how weapons can extend beyond what you hold in your hands."

Shin counted each category carefully, ensuring he had enough of each type for his students. He had learned over the years that hands-on practice was essential, especially in Taijutsu courses. Every student would need their own weapon to work with.

As he finished his preparations, he moved to the center of the sparring room and waited. The sound of footsteps in the hallway signaled that his students would be arriving soon.

"Today will be interesting," he said to himself with a slight smile. "Let's see who has the aptitude for augmented combat."


WC: 347/1000
PC: 1/5

 

[Chikamatsu Suisen]

Suisen had been practicing with his chakra strings in one of the smaller training rooms when he'd overheard some academy students talking about a Taijutsu class. "Wait, Dad's teaching today?" he muttered to himself, dismissing the wooden practice dummy he'd been manipulating. "And it's about weapons? Oh man, this is perfect timing!"

The young homunculus practically sprinted through the Toraono Dojo's hallways, his blonde hair bouncing with each excited step. His crimson eyes were bright with anticipation—this was exactly what he needed. He'd been working on his puppetry techniques, sure, but most of it had been self-taught or learned from watching his father from a distance. An actual class? With his dad? About weapons and augmented combat?

"This is gonna be awesome," he whispered to himself as he approached the sparring room.

He paused at the doorway, taking in the scene. His father stood in traditional sparring attire, looking every bit the composed teacher as he organized various training implements on a long table. Bokken, bo staffs, training kunai, practice shuriken... and there, at the end of the table, several simple wooden marionettes.

Suisen's heart did a little flip at the sight of those puppets.

"Yo, Dad!" Suisen called out as he stepped into the sparring room, his usual grin spreading across his face. "Room for one more student? I promise I'll be on my best behavior. Well... mostly best behavior. Like, seventy three and a half percent best behavior minimum."

He moved closer to the table, his eyes immediately drawn to the wooden marionettes. His fingers twitched slightly—the instinct to reach out with chakra strings was almost automatic now. He'd been practicing the Chikamatsu style for months, ever since he'd first manifested those chakra-flower weapons and realized he had an affinity for puppet techniques.

"Are we doing puppetry integration today?" Suisen asked, his voice carrying genuine excitement now. "Because I've been working on my string control! Watch this—"

Without waiting for permission, Suisen extended his hand toward one of the simple wooden marionettes. Thin, nearly invisible threads of chakra extended from his fingertips, connecting to the puppet's limbs. The wooden figure jerked slightly as Suisen's control wavered, then smoothed out as he made it take a single, wobbling step forward.

"Okay, so it's still pretty rough," he admitted with a sheepish laugh, releasing the strings. "But I'm getting better! I can manifest my own puppet weapons too, the chakra-flower blades, remember? Though I've been trying to make them less 'accidentally threatening' and more 'deliberately functional.'"

The seals on his arms tingled faintly as his chakra responded to his enthusiasm. Suisen glanced down at them, then back up at his father.

"I know I've been kinda... learning on my own mostly. You've been busy with Kazekage stuff and everything. But this?" He gestured at the training setup, his grin becoming more genuine. "This is perfect. I need to learn how to properly weaponize my puppets. Right now they're mostly just for show, and that's not gonna cut it when I eventually graduate."

He paused, then added with characteristic humor, "Plus, if I'm gonna carry on the Chikamatsu legacy of being terrifying puppet masters, I should probably learn from the best, right? Even if the best is currently dealing with other more important stuff"

There was no bitterness in his tone this time, just genuine excitement to learn from his father, mixed with his usual inability to take anything too seriously.

"So where do you want me? And please tell me we get to actually practice with the weapons today. I'm so tired of theoretical lessons about chakra flow and puppet joint mechanics. I wanna make stuff move and fight!"


WC: 610/1000
PC: 1/5

 

[Goro]

The Dojo was too big.

Goro heard the noise before he reached the doorway. It was a frantic energy that didn't belong in the quiet discipline of a training hall. A voice was rambling about percentages of behavior and the mechanics of puppet joints. It was the sound of someone who took up a lot of space.

Goro stopped at the threshold. His white braid hung heavy down his spine. He was dressed in his simple work clothes. They were stained with the dust of the caverns and meant for hauling debris. They felt like an insult to the clean, polished wood of the Toraono Dojo.

He watched from the shadows of the hallway. A blonde boy was already inside. He was bright and full of a restless, buzzing spirit. Goro watched him extend chakra threads toward a training marionette. The boy called the man at the center of the room "Dad."

Goro’s red eyes widened. He didn’t know the face of every high ranking official, but he knew that man. Chikamatsu Shin. The 12th Kazekage.

The contrast made Goro’s skin crawl with a quiet itch. He didn't know the blonde boy. He didn't know his name or where he came from. All he saw was someone who looked like they belonged in the light. This boy was loud and confident. He had a father who led the village. Goro had six arms and a family that preferred the silence of the deep tunnels.

Goro tucked his extra limbs tightly against his sides. It was a defensive habit. He didn't want to be the freak today. He didn't want to interrupt a family moment. But he had been given an order. To be late was to be a burden.

Step. Slide. Step.

The tatami mats whispered beneath his feet as he finally crossed the threshold. It was a different sound than the crunch of gravel. Cleaner. Wronger.

Goro moved toward the table of weapons. He kept his distance from the high energy boy. His breath hitched as he looked at the tools laid out in neat rows.

Bokken. Staffs. Kunai. Puppets.

To the Tsuchigumo, a tool was an extension of the body's purpose. These tools were designed for the slaughter his family spoke of with such hushed tones. He looked at the training marionettes the boy had been playing with. They looked like hollow shells waiting for a soul.

"Excuse me."

His voice was a low rasp. It was barely a notch above the rustle of his own clothes. He stopped several paces away from Shin and the boy. He offered a deep, somber bow. All six arms moved in unison. His torso bent with the stiff discipline of the Hive.

"Tsuchigumo Goro. Reporting as ordered."

He straightened up. His eyes dropped to the floor. He felt like a mismatched gear forced into a high end machine.

"I am here to be useful," he added. The words felt heavy. "Whatever the village requires of me."

He glanced toward the table. He looked at the bludgeoning tools. He knew the weight of a staff. It felt like the heavy rebar he’d been clearing earlier. Then he looked at the puppets.

"The puppets," Goro murmured. He was almost talking to himself. Shyness lost out to curiosity for a brief moment. They are how a shinobi reaches further?

He waited. His multiple limbs tensed. He was ready for the work, but the presence of the Kazekage and his son made the air feel weighted.

WC: 581/1000
PC: 1/5

 

[Hokkyoku Yuka]

Yuka moved through the halls of the dojo. Yuka was only 4'1", small build. Her hair, as orange as the desert sun, was wind-swept. She wore practical clothing: a tan sleeveless tunic with a mesh top beneath, paired with olive-green shorts. Her large amber eyes scanned the area as she moved quietly. The village was different; it felt loud and crowded here. She had lived her whole life in the desert and barely spent any time inside any village. Her family, her clan, spent a month or so ago in the village. Now she was here, she had chosen to stay, and become a shinobi. Her family had already left, and she knew she would see her mother again in a few months. She knew today's class would be an opportunity to learn about weapons and taijutsu, and to meet some of her classmates.

Yuka stepped into the room to see Shin, Goro, and Suisen, whom she really didn't know; she had never seen the Kage. She assumed the taller man was the teacher, and the kid with him was maybe his relative. She assumed all the blondes in this village were related; there weren't many. She had come into the room just as Suisen attempted to demonstrate... something. She saw him reach out to the wooden marionette. Standing there and watching for a few minutes, she learned the teacher was the Kazekage, and the kid was indeed related, father and son. She had heard from her cousin that the Kazekage's son was a lab-born freak of nature. Compared to Goro, the six-armed freak, Suisen looked normal.

Disinterested in the people, her eyes landed on the table with the training weapons. She didn't introduce herself; instead, she quietly approached the table, her expression blank and her head lowered. She studied the practice equipment with a calculated cold stare. She intentionally kept space between her and Goro; she didn't want to be accidentally touched by such a creature. 'He should have stayed underground, I can't believe the desert birthed such a creature...' Yuka thought to herself, but she kept her expression flat. She wouldn't speak her true thoughts outloud. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself.

"We're not using real weapons to practice with?" She asked, her voice soft, small, and almost fragile. Her eyes flicked up to Shin, and she tilted her head. She was rather disappointed. Real weapons had consequences, real ones. Getting hurt made you stronger.

WC: 416/1000
PC: 1/5

 

[Kyuji]

A few days had passed since the Clan Council Summit, my impromptu meeting with Chikamatsu Shin and his sister, meeting my new squad of Genin and sparring with Rika to test her skills. Given the fact that I had been sidelined due to unforeseeable circumstances for some time and when I was free to leave the Byakko Clan Estate, I sprung myself back into the fray of daily life in the village. A lot had changed since I was last active in the village, but there was a not a lot of time to reflect on that with the immediate threat of the Baron Twins and our preparations as village.

...And yet, I was walking from my clan's home to the Toraono Dojo's sparring room today as I heard that there would be an event being ran by Chikamatsu Shin for the students of our academy. With having my own squad of knuckleheads to handle, I would be likely busy with assignments with them or writing up paperwork after we were finished to teach new students and test them to become Genin. But, I had been a teacher at the Academy for some time prior to the World Martial Arts Tournament and it was hard to let go of something that you were compassionate about. I also was curious what the Kazekage and my former apprentice would be training them on as he had to be busy with his duties and also the preparation on his end for the unpredictable - he could also possibly use the assistance if there were an influx of students.

When I arrived, I would walk into the room and give a nod to the teacher of the day before looking over each student that was already here. There was certainly some variety in this batch of kids and it would make for an interesting dynamic to educate. There would not be a word said as I was here out of curiousity more than anything else and did not want to take the spotlight from my former apprentice. If people were interested in knowing me or wished to speak to me, I would entertain them, but I was not the star of the show today - that was their Kazekage, my former student.

---

OOC:

• WC: 378/100
• PC: 1/5
• I am okay if people want to post before me in rotation. I will be busy starting Friday till February 6th with work stuff so please do not wait on me.

 

[Sabishii]

Slow, the wisps of ghosts would swirl around the boy with alarm. He had been quietly writing in the tablet he kept with him for so long. Since... that day. A reminder that even when he had people who loved him, they could easily be taken away. So, he walked... silent footsteps towards his assigned and designated to this part of the village. Around him would be a howling soul... a shadow visage that exuded from his chakra a soul like figure. Multiple. They touched and tugged the boy, but he seemingly did not care or was not fazed by their presence. To him they were his only true family. The Hyokkyoku took him in, and he stayed with them in their quarters for now. Yuka had taken a liking to him, or so she had shown a bit, but they had minimal interaction at this point...

He was told that today would be weapon-based combat training, something that he was familiar with because of his use of a polearm, he was no expert... yet. Yet he was likely to be better than many of his peers. Or... those his age. Alas, peering down the halls of the Toraono Dojo, Sabishii would seemingly and aimlessly make his way to the posted class. "...Hmmmm.", a moan escaping the boy's throat as he looked into the room. 'So... bright...', a thought passing through his mind he blinked from behind his hollowed-out eyes. Tattered sandals clattered on the floor and the boys ripped and damaged clothing seemed to make light scratching noises. The boy oddly smelled of roses for his dirty visage. His appearance was soft, but his eyes... were distant and dark. He didn't walk far into the room finding a spot and placing his weapon on the floor.

"...Present...", he would look up to Shin, then the rest of the classroom his eyes seemingly glazed over as he looked from person to person, stopping on Goro for a moment and slightly smirking before lowering his eyes as a ghostly whisp would appear and disappear quickly. "...Learn...", nodding to the whisp Sabishii would look up to Shin and nod once again, "...I will..." and with that he would sit quietly.

[MFT]

WC: 390/1000
PC: 1/5
OOC: Ghost Whisps and speaking can be heard if you choose to hear it. The ghosts are apart of his Nara Abilities.

 

[Kyouketsu Shinda]

He crept into the room behind the others that had already gathered, his silence in sound and movement only due to his size. Crimson eyes scanning and taking some simple notes of all present as they were new faces to him, at least new to the extent of spending time in the same place. A slight unease gathered in his chest, the rhythmic pulse of his heart banging like a drum, anxiety washing over though none had yet even took note. That's right, these people were all strangers and by that account he couldn't trust any of them. Trust in this form amounted to Shinba applying distance from himself and them, keeping a health range but equally standing out by doing so. Regardless, the further away from them he became the calmer his heart and the clearer his mind. Still, he was a child and this was just another class afterall, is what he would tell himself while calmly breathing behind the scarf across the lower part of his face. A fingertip pressed against his lower right eyelid, scratching softly while he continued to mull over this place and these people. There was some distraction however provided by the classes setting, his eyes darting to take note of the room more closely. It was open, not unlike most rooms in the academy but the thing that caught his eye was the table. Each weapon drew his gaze and critique, the craftsman trade in his family showing off as his attention drifted over the minute details of each weapon that he could see. "So that's the lesson...then", a single wayward thought amiss the processing. A smirk formed beneath the scarf as his small frame tensed, sudden realization coursing through his body and nerves. This class was going to be one of his favorites, weapons and taijutsu were the only thing that he truly found interest....beyond the nature of bone. "Prese....", his quiet voice cut off instead of finishing and lowering his hand just as fast as he'd raised it. He'd announced himself at least, that was all that required. [Topic Entered / MFT] WC: 356/1000 PC: 1/5

 

[Chikamatsu Shin]

Shin's pale blue eyes tracked each student as they entered the sparring room, his expression composed and measured. The arrival of his son brought the faintest flicker of acknowledgment—a brief glance, nothing more—before his attention shifted to the others filing in.

"Tsuchigumo Goro," he said with a slight nod toward Goro, recognizing the clan's distinctive traits immediately. The six arms, the pale complexion, the carefully controlled posture of someone used to working in the underground labyrinth. A useful lineage for precision work.

His gaze moved to Yuka next, taking in the sun-worn features and practical desert attire. "Hokkyoku Yuka," he identified quietly, noting the amber eyes and wind-swept orange hair. The nomadic scouts and surface dwellers—practical, resilient.

When Sabishii entered with his tattered appearance, Shin's expression remained neutral. He could see the spectral imagery that haunted the boy which led his mind to reflect on his experience with his own sister. He was curious if Sabishii knew they existed yet. "Hokkyoku Sabishii," he observed mentally, watching the shadow manifestations with clinical interest before his eyes moved to the next student.

Kyouketsu Shinda received a similarly brief assessment—the crimson eyes, the cautious distance, the instinctive evaluation of the weapons on display. "Kyouketsu Shinda," Shin noted, recognizing another of the Lesser Clans.

And then there was Suisen. His son. Shin's gaze passed over the blonde homunculus with barely a pause, offering no special recognition beyond what any other student received. The boy's enthusiastic demonstration with the chakra strings went unacknowledged, as did his rambling about puppet techniques and the Chikamatsu legacy. There would be time for family matters later—this was a classroom, and here, Suisen was simply another student.

When Kyuji entered, Shin offered his former master a respectful nod of acknowledgment before returning his attention to the assembled students.

"Welcome," Shin began, his voice carrying clearly through the sparring room without needing to be raised.

"Today's lesson is simple in concept but complex in execution. You are here to understand one fundamental truth... any tool, in the right hands, becomes a fatal weapon. A bokken, a staff, a senbon needle—even something as mundane as a small twig."

He gestured toward the table of training implements, then toward Kyuji.

"This is Byakko Kyuji, winner of the World Martial Arts Tournament. A master of her craft. In her hands, something as simple as a small twig is more powerful than a blade wielded by any amateur. Skill, precision, and understanding of your tool—these are what separate a shinobi from a fool with a weapon."

Shin's gaze swept across the students again, lingering briefly on each face.

"Some of you come from clans with distinct combat traditions. Tsuchigumo precision. Hokkyoku adaptability. Kyouketsu bone manipulation. Chikamatsu puppetry." His eyes barely flickered toward Suisen on that last word. "But today, you set aside what you think you know. Today, you learn that the weapon is secondary to the wielder."

He moved toward the table, picking up one of the simple wooden training kunai.

"This is not about mastering a single weapon. This is about understanding how to augment your combat capabilities with whatever is at hand. A shinobi who can only fight with their preferred tool is a shinobi who will die the moment they are disarmed."

Shin set the kunai down and picked up one of the wooden marionettes, holding it up for the class to see.

"And for those of you interested in puppetry," he said, his tone unchanged, "you will learn that a puppet is simply another form of weapon, an extension of your body through chakra strings. But without proper technique, it is nothing more than kindling."

He set the marionette down and clasped his hands behind his back.

"You will each select a weapon from this table. You will practice the basic forms. And you will demonstrate that you understand the principle I have just explained. Kyuji-sensei and I will observe and correct your technique as needed."

His pale blue eyes swept the room one final time.

"Begin."

WC: 1000+/1000
PC: 2/5

 

[Goro]

A small girl entered the fray, her deep brown skin and bright hair creating a sharp, interesting contrast. Goro did not pay her much mind, noting only her size and her lack of manners. She did not address the Sensei, asking instead about the weapons. Rude, was the only word that came to mind.

The next to enter was an older woman with blonde hair and striking green eyes. She was well-kept and fair, looking very much like a character from a storybook. Goro made a conscious effort not to be caught staring; he did not want anyone to get the wrong idea. She moved quietly to the back of the room, positioning herself to observe the class from a distance.

Suddenly, a chill ran down Goro’s spine.

Another boy dragged himself in, looking as though he had just clawed his way out of the deep desert. He was disheveled and caked in grime, yet despite his messy appearance, a faint, earthy aroma clung to him. It was a sweet scent wreathed in dirt, unlike anything Goro had smelled before. As the boy found a spot, he dropped his weapon to the floor and scanned the room. For a moment, it felt as though he was smirking directly at Goro.

Le***- Huh what was that?

Before he could dwell on it, another presence entered. This one was almost entirely devoid of an aura, his footsteps holding so little weight that he seemed to lack a physical presence. Goro watched silently as the boy found a place in the dojo. He started to announce himself but cut his words short as if the moment had choked him. Instead, he simply raised a hand to verify his attendance.

The Kazekage then began to address them, his voice steady as he called through the roster.

"Tsuchigumo Goro." "Hokkyoku Yuka." "Hokkyoku Sabishii." "Kyouketsu Shinda."

Goro counted the names on the fingers of one hand. He looked around the room and realized there were at least two people whose names had not been called. Perhaps they were part of the class in an unexpected capacity, but Goro decided it was not his place to concern himself with such things.

The Kazekage explained that today’s lesson would focus on the art of improvisation the ability to turn anything in one's hand into a weapon. Whether it was a sturdy staff, a needle, or a simple twig, anything could serve the purpose of violence. Goro winced internally at the thought of a twig being driven into an eye. The mere idea was painful to contemplate.

Then, the Lord introduced the woman who had slipped in so quietly: Byakko Kyuji, a renowned warrior and winner of the World Martial Arts Tournament. Goro was stunned. It wasn't the fact that a woman had won such a prestigious title, but rather the sheer caliber of the people in the room. The collective rank of those present outweighed most of the village. He had not expected his first Academy class to be so high-profile.

As the Kazekage continued his assessment, noting the traditions and techniques of their respective clans, the instruction was clear: choose a weapon and begin the journey toward mastery.

Goro wasted no time. While he had little personal interest in complex weaponry, he would never dishonor the Tsuchigumo name. He had already rigorously trained his body and familiarized himself with various throwing tools. Today, however, called for practice weapons. There was no need for his poisons or specialized traps here.

He moved immediately toward the wooden shuriken and practice senbon. Neither was sharp enough to cause serious injury under normal circumstances, and they felt the most natural in his grip since they mirrored his usual kit. With his choice made, he returned to the Twelfth Lord and stood at the ready. He felt no need to mingle with the others; he was here to learn, to work, and to make the Tsuchigumo proud.

WC: 1000+/1000
PC: 2/5

 

[Kōsa Harikēn]

The pale moon set as the shining sun broke through the horizon. The birds were chirpings, and the wind was blowing a pleasant tune through the dunes. As the sun broke through his window, Hariken's eyes flickered open, adjusting to the harsh light beaming into his eyes What... times is it... His eyes lazily drifted to the clock next to him. His eyes burst open, Crap crap crap!!! I'm late for my first day! With a quick rip of the blankets and sheet flew off his body, and swiftly jumped out of bed, landing on feet, and quickly donning a simple black jacket, white shirt, with black pants and shoes. He quickly grabbed his bag, and rushed out of his room; making a quick detour to the kitchen for a piece of toast, Hariken was out of the door, and well on his way to being late to his first class, Hopefully the Sensei is lenient. Hariken gave a small pray to the Black Queen that judgment will be lenient and fair. As he was running through the streets, the people in the streets knew an energetic academy student when they saw one, and waved at Harikēn and wished him and luck and good first day. Though the country has faced many conflicts in the future, the community always seems to try and lift up their people, it was a fine sense of comradery and sense of place. Without much delay in transit, Hariken finally stood in front of the Legendary Toraono Dojo, he had heard tales of many legendary shinobi who trained and learned from here; he believed those that learn as much from the dojo are much more successful shinobi. He meekly pushed open the door, finding that the class seems to have just started not long before his arrival, What a relief. His footsteps lightly tapped on the wood floor as he entered. Kicking his shoes off to the side, placing his back carefully on the floor, and stepping foot onto the dojo mats; he faced everyone present and gave a bow, "Uzumoreru Kōsa Harikēn, apologies for my tardiness Sensei. I hope I'm not too late to join! He held the bow for what seemed like an acceptably appropriate amount of time, rising up, he began studying his fellow classmates; they were an interesting bunch for sure. I am very eager to know about todays lesson plan. [MFT] [WC: 400/1000] [Post: 1/5]

 

[Hokkyoku Yuka]

Yuka listened to the Kazekage’s answer, her face remaining a mask of polite, timid interest. Inside, she felt a dull thrum of boredom. A twig, she thought, her amber eyes tracing the grain of the wooden floor. A twig can kill, yes. But it takes longer. It is messy. The desert did not like being messy. The desert liked clean, dry bones.

She turned her gaze from the teacher to the students, her eyes skipping over the loud blonde and the spider-creature until they landed on Sabishii. A spark of genuine interest lit within her chest- not warmth, but a cold, hungry curiosity. The ghosts swirled around him, unseen by most, but to Yuka, they were clear. They looked like the heat haze that rose off the dunes. The dead of the desert, she mused, a possessive urge curling in her gut. They followed him here. They belong to the sands, and he keeps them.

She wanted to be near that. It felt… correct.

Yuka walked to the table, her movements silent, her feet placing themselves carefully as if testing for loose rocks. She ignored the heavy staves and the clumsy puppets. Her hand hovered over the collection, finally settling on a wooden kunai. It was light. It felt dead in her hand, lacking the cold, reassuring weight of steel. It was a toy. But she would make it work.

She drifted across the mats, moving until she was standing just beside Sabishii. She didn't say hello. She didn't smile. She simply stood in his shadow, breathing in the air that felt chilled by his spectral companions. Close, she thought. This is where the quiet is.

She adjusted her grip on the wooden handle. Shin wanted them to demonstrate that the weapon was secondary. Yuka focused her eyes on the empty air in front of her. She didn't imagine a target dummy. She imagined a neck. She imagined the pulse of a jugular vein, frantic and hot.

The weapon is just the finger, she told herself. The mind is the fang.

With a sudden, sharp exhale, Yuka moved. It wasn't a wild swing. It was a compact, horizontal slash - a motion designed to open a throat with minimal effort. The wooden kunai blurred, stopping with disciplined precision exactly where the imaginary skin would part. She held the pose for a second, her expression blank and serene, before lowering the weapon and glancing back at Shin to see if he had seen the intent behind the wood.

WC: 836/1000
PC: 2/5

 

[Chikamatsu Suisen]

Suisen's grin faltered for just a second when his dad barely even glanced at his chakra string demonstration. No acknowledgment. No "good job, son" or even a "we'll work on that later." Just... nothing. Like he was just another student in the room.

Which, okay, technically he was. This was a classroom. Professional environment. He got it.

It still kinda stung though.

"Well! Looks like we've got quite the crew today!" Suisen announced to the room, his voice a little louder and brighter than necessary. Overcompensating? Maybe. But that's what he did best! Turn awkward feelings into enthusiasm!

He looked around at his new classmates with genuine interest. Goro had six arms which was objectively the coolest thing ever. There was a tiny desert girl who looked like she might murder someone just for looking at her wrong, and a couple other students who seemed way less excited to be here than Suisen was.

When Shin introduced Byakko Kyuji as the World Martial Arts Tournament champion, Suisen's eyes went wide. "Wait, THE tournament? That's so cool! You must be Dad and Auntie's Sensei!" At least focusing on the awesome guest instructor was better than thinking about how his own father was treating him like a stranger.

He listened as his dad explained the lesson. Any tool could be a weapon. The weapon was secondary to the wielder. Don't rely on just one thing or you'll die when you're disarmed. It made sense, and honestly it was pretty good advice, even if it was delivered in that super serious Kazekage voice instead of the dad voice.

"The weapon is secondary to the wielder," Suisen repeated under his breath, nodding like this was the most profound thing he'd ever heard. Maybe if he was the best student ever, his dad would actually look at him.

When Shin told them to begin, Suisen watched as Goro immediately grabbed throwing weapons with practiced efficiency. Then Yuka took a wooden kunai, positioned herself near the ghost-kid, and executed this super creepy throat-slashing motion that made Suisen blink. "Okay, so she's definitely committed to the whole 'learning to kill people' thing. Noted!"

Right! His turn to be impressive!

Suisen bounced over to the weapons table, his usual energy cranked up to eleven. The wooden marionettes were right there, practically calling his name. He'd been like literally practicing this puppetry stuff for actual months! He could totally show off his chakra string control and prove he'd been working hard and—

Hold the front door.

If the lesson was about adapting to any weapon, picking the one he was already comfortable with would kind of defeat the purpose, right? Plus, it might look like he wasn't paying attention to the actual lesson, which would definitely not earn him any brownie points with his dad.

"Alright, challenge mode activated!" Suisen declared loudly, deliberately bypassing the puppets and grabbing a wooden training tonfa instead. "Let's see if this Chikamatsu can handle something that doesn't involve strings!"

He moved to an open spot on the mat, very aware that both Shin and Kyuji were watching. He gave the tonfa an experimental spin, immediately fumbled it, caught it at the last second, and laughed maybe a bit too loud. "Okay so we're starting from scratch! Cool cool, that's fine! Everybody starts somewhere, am-I-right or what?"

His first actual attempt at a proper stance and strike was... rough. Really rough. Like a baby bird trying to figure out what wings were for.

"Aaaand that was terrible!" Suisen announced cheerfully, forcing a grin even though he could feel embarrassment creeping up his neck. "But hey, didn't hit myself in the face, so like that's a big win!"

He tried again. And again. Each attempt was marginally better than the last, and by the fourth try he actually started to feel how the weapon was supposed to move—the wrist rotation—the way it rested against his forearm for defense.

"Ooooh! I think I'm getting it!" His face lit up with genuine excitement. "It's all about the rotation and like totally using your whole arm!"

He glanced toward where his dad was standing, hoping maybe this time he'd get some acknowledgment. Some sign that dad noticed he was actually trying, actually learning, actually being a good student, trying to be like Sora.

"The weapon is secondary to the wielder!" Suisen repeated louder, practicing another strike with more confidence. "Which means even if I'm currently not great at this, I can totally like get better! That's the whole point, right? Pfff, crushed it."

Maybe if he was enthusiastic enough, tried hard enough, smiled bright enough, his dad would finally look at him like a son instead of just another student in the room....

Instead of a failed replacement for his daughter.

He wasn't Sora.

He couldn't compete.

1000+/1000
2/5

 

[Sabishii]

Delusion, the thought that any one of these students would be masters on the onset of their training. Sabishii knew this from his limited experience with his polearm. A long bo-staff with a bladed attachment on the end. It was dull now, because he'd used it to kill many of the fawn and rodents out in the expansive, and arid outer village zones. What many of these privileged kids would not have the gumption to do. To watch their parent be taken away from them and live with that visual, to be told about it by these ghosts that haunted his very existence. If he were to end it all, what would happen? He would be dragged into the darkness... to be tormented forevermore? No, that was not a choice he would want to make. Not now.

His eyes moved from person to person in the room, falling back to Yuka then back to the Teacher, listening to what he was saying about the idea of the class. To choose a weapon, Sabi thought, was the improper way of learning about oneself. His mother had instilled something within him that would lend him to a way of thinking that humans, as chaoticly beautiful as the were, did not choose much in their lives. Even something as simple as a weapon for battle, it was the opposite. The relationship of a being with their weapon of choice was symbiotic to a degree even without one of the beings in the connection being sentient. The choice could have been made long before a person was born into this world... Every decision of an ancestor would lead them to have a string in this woven fabric of life. So to think anyone truly chose anything, was lunacy to Sabishii, or at least it was idiotic to think you had a choice when it came to ones fate.

Alas, the tired boy would feel the whisk of a soul against him,

"She's coming~"

The word caused Sabishii to straighten a bit before she would step into his shadow. No words. No smile. Just her presence. The boy didnt know what to do with it. He knew not about girls. Especially Yuka. However, he was in debt to her and her family. He would serve out her servitude until he was told his payment was acceptable. Though he did lift a brow as he would watch her... display. Sabishii wasnt perfect, and Yuka was still learning, but he could feel that she was... different from others. 'Hm.' a thought of confirmation watching her again and again. There was no outward display to her action just a look up to the Teacher and Kyuji. A woman that didnt strike him as particularly strong. Not stronger than his mother... but ow true could that be when Kyuji was here and his mother... wasnt. His eyes focused on her for the moment. He would find out more about her... maybe not to be in her tutelage but maybe to gather information for himself as to who she truly was.

Sabishii did not move to the display of weaponry. He didnt see a need to when he walked in with his own weapon. The one that had chosen him. The spirits even told him. It was his father's And now it was his own. Maybe someone would have it once he would pass through the veil. A hand, frail and slender reached down to the wooden handle on the pole weapon lifting it and twirling it inexpertly before dropping it to the ground in a silent failure of a display. The showing made the boy frown, a true showing of emotion from his hollow distant stare. Without a another attempt he sat himself back down, placing his hands back into his pockets.

Silent again.

WC: 1000+/1000
Post: 2/5

 

[Kyouketsu Shinda]

He stood apart from the others with hands relaxed at his sides. As Shin spoke about weapons, Shinda listened without a visible reaction. None of it surprised him, as tools were tools. For Shinda weapons were no different than chisels, mallets, carving knives. It was all the same, just being showcased in a cleaner room with fewer bodies. When the table of weapons was offered, he waited at first in utmost silence. He did not rush a choice, instead taking this time to fully mull over a decision. He watched the others choose first, noted what they reached for, how their hands moved. Only when space opened did he step in. His gaze passed over the larger implements then the smaller weapons. Hands reaching out and running along the handles of placed kunai and senbon. Fingertips following the dull curve of the shuriken and links of a chain and nunchucks. After all of this he paused with a frown beneath his scarf, muscles tensing through disappointment, not in the selection but in his familiarity. None of it challenged him in the way that using something new to his grasp would have. These were tools he already understood, as when stripped of the weight and consequence that made them meaningful...they had no purpose. Training versions of lessons he’d learned in quieter, heavier places with air thick of incense and reverence. The handles, the grips, even how you would hold them all being things he'd experienced. A curse of those who were born into a life of craft and bone. Shinda let out a slow breath after settling his thoughts and stepped back from the table, empty handed. If this exercise was meant to teach him something new, then none of these would do. Taking a momentary glance around the room, he hoped to find an answer...

He allowed his gaze to follow Goro for a moment, noting the careful way he gripped the weapons, the subtle readiness in his posture. Eye's drifting towards the classroom entrance, he watched quietly as someone else entered, late, announcing themselves as Uzumoreru Kōsa Harikēn. He had no need for words or greeting, there was nothing to learn from his arrival. Shinda noticed Yuka and watched her for a moment, his attention staying on her for the longest so far. The wooden kunai she had chosen stopped exactly where a throat would have opened, "She’s not practicing", he thought. "She’s remembering what is already known...". He didn’t flinch as his gaze fell upon Suisen, watching when the tonfa spun wildly. He didn’t flinch when it nearly smacked Suisen in the head. Shinda’s attention would flicker toward Sabishii as he approached the pole weapon that he had came into the class with. He noted the subtle stiffness in his posture as he picked up the wooden handle, the tentative twirl and the abrupt drop. It was clumsy, almost painfully so to watch. When Sabishii lowered himself back onto the mat in failure, Shinda’s eyes followed. He didn’t step forward to offer words of encouragement. He simply cataloged it Sabishii reaction to disappointment, the choice to give up.

He would sink slightly into his stance, muscles relaxing while his fists flexed lightly at his sides. After all the observation and watching other students and their decisions, his mind was not yet made. A few moments would pass in personal silence before his mind resorted to a default option when face with a choice. Turning his attention towards Shin...."Choose for me". This way the choice wouldn't be based on his own perception....his disadvantage would be the unknown.

[WC: 598]
[Post 2 of 5: 954 wc / 1000 wc]

 

[Kōsa Harikēn]

Well that was relief, none of the other students seem to be paying him any mind, but that didn't mean the instructor didn't. Having missed the initial instructions put him a little behind, but based on everyone else it seems the class was about using weapons that you lacked proficiency with, always a helpful skill to know. The Uzumoreru had showed him various methods of using daggers and other assorted short bladed weapons and thrown projectiles. Proficient in the art of subterfuge and silent takedowns; he approached the table and took a look at all his options; Bokken, bows, staves, and puppets... His hands drifted towards the dual tonfas. He studied the t shaped weapons carefully in his hands, coming to the conclusion the short bit is to hold. Hmm... Carefully gripping each short end of the tonfas, it seemed they could provide a unique mix of offensive and defensive abilities. Harikēn could tell that if the long end rested along his forearm, it could be used to parry or just guard while protecting your arms. Transversally, with the long ends being connected to a short end, it gave the tonfa a tricky component; the ability to spin the weapons orientation with a flick of the wrist. Suddenly turning the defensive tool into a offensive force, with respectable strike range and distance gauging. Harikēn had made his choice; the tonfa seemed the most interesting to him. Having something in your arsenal that can be used in an inherently non-lethal manner wasn't really in the Uzumoreru's core beliefs, but sometimes killing right away wasn't the answer, knowing when to restrain, and when to slaughter makes all the difference in the shinobi world. He studied his fellow students, each of which who were trying some form of weapon or another, but what they picked was of no concern to him; while they could very well end up on a team together, their current progress was of no interest to Harikēn. He found a spot in the dojo that had a adequate amount of space to test the tonfas out. He donned a stance that he would similarly if he were holding two daggers; his feet spread apart in to a stance; a secure stance meant secure movement. He held the tonfas in a downward grip, the cold wood sent a chill up in forearm; Harikēn brought his hands up to his face in a standard guard fashion. With the his stance secured he began visualizing potential patterns and movements, analyzing any nuanced movement. It seemed while the weapon was in a "defensive" grip, the wielder would be more than likely boxing, or striking with their forearm. Though he had one in each hand, and this poised an idea to him, one in a defensive hold and the other extended outwards. With a clumsy twist of his wrist, the tonfa spun in his hand, swinging past his face, and extending outwards; Harikēn clamped down again when it was where he wanted it to be. In one hand he had a tool capable of parrying, blocking, while still leaving his hand available to punch. In the other he had a tool with more strike distance and range of movement. Harikēn began "shadow boxing" with the tonfas in hand, mixing in taijutsu, feints ands parries. His movements were clumsy, and lacked the clear refinement that a trained shinobi would have, but the fluidity and versatility of the weapons in his hands felt very satisfying to him to use. His gaze lingered onto the rest of his classmates, some who were indecisive on a weapon, some who picked what they were already good with. What's next Sensei? [WC: 611] [Post: 2/5 1000+/1000]

 

[Kyuji]

It would not take long before a handful of bright, young minds would arrive to the class following my own arrival. I would study each one of them as they arrived, taking a mental note of their appearances and how they conducted themselves. With the addition of the two after me, Kazekage Shin would begin the introductions of each one of them to the overall class and welcoming them to the class today - I was more impressed by the amount of students that were actually in this class since my own classes typically had three on average. But, the times also were changing with the Baron Twins lingering in the distance and the village trying to get prepared to combat them through various strategies. More young blood to add to the village was a welcome sign, but also I had to wonder if they all were here because of their own interest in joining or if they had outside influences affecting their judgments.

I would listen to my former student speak to his class about what they would be doing today and simply raise a hand to acknowledge him when he introduced me and spoke kind words about me. It was nice to be recognized for my feats and talk about them when we were not facing something that could completely change our lives if we failed to push back against the source of it. Yet, if they truly wanted to talk to me about the tournament or any other stories that they heard about me, I would entertain the thought at a later date. For now, they had an assignment in front of them that was to wield a weapon and show Chikamatsu Shin and apparently me as well how they would use it in combat. Odd choice to add me to it since I was not formally invited to teach by him but he trusted me with a younger version of himself and he turned out to be great so it made sense to utilize me if I was already here.

The first one that would accept the challenge was the 6-armed boy named Goro. He would not actually show us anything even though he took the initiative and selected his weapons - possibly due to nerves or he wasn't sure entirely what to showcase to the Kazekage and Byakko descendant. I would look at him from my spot and say directly with that teacher voice that you all know: "Goro, you were to demonstrate how to use the weapons in your hands. Use me as your target and get some practice in to show Shin and I what you can do at your current strength." He wouldn't harm me if you used me as his target considering the weapons were for practice, but also I would be able to stop them without much effort.

The next one up was Yuka who choose a wooden kunai for her weapon and situated herself near the boy that appeared to have little wisps earlier speaking to him. She would practice her form and technique in front of her which were precise and clean for the most part like she may have some experience with this before. "Yuka, there is room for improvement. Your technique assumes you are the same height or level as your opponent. While you should focus on being clean and getting the job done, you need to also consider different elevations, height differences, and alternative focuses on the body than the throat as you were showing me. At your age, another area to focus on would be in the leg as you would temporarily stop an would-be attack on yourself and open yourself up to a counterattack." Straightforward commentary - could use improvement.

Next up was Shin's kid and the way that he spoke hurt my cat ears as he was loud and borderline obnoxious with how positive he was with everything. He would use a tonfa and struggle with it initially which was to be expected, but he would show signs of improvement as he kept attempting it. I could tell this was not his expertise, but you had to start as a beginner in any art to become an expert. "Suisen, you can use improvement in using the weapon but I can also tell you never used this kind of before. You are more accustomed to something else, aren't you? It is important to try to dip your toes into all kinds of weaponry, but you do not need to try to be a master of nothing. Stick to one weapon that you feel comfortable with and then slowly expand from there."

It would seem the next would be Sabishii and he did nothing umimpressive with his demonstration - it was a sad display truly but I wouldn't show it on my face. We could have moved on and not said anything, but I felt he needed to be addressed. "Sabishii, you barely showed anything. Try again and let's see if you can get it this time. Practice is important if you want to grow as a person and shinobi. You have to allow yourself to have a failure to then turn it into a win!" I would move from my spot and kneel down beside him, leaning in and telling only him: "I believe in you so don't be so hard on yourself. You are young and are allowed to make mistakes and grow from it." I would then move back to my wall in the back and let the fun continue.

Shinda would have been next, but he asked the Kazekage to choose his weapon for him as I guess he was indecisive. I would look at Shin and speak directly to him: "If I am allowed to decide on his weapon, I choose a sword as both you and I are ones that use them daily." My attention would then turn to the last student who was named Harikēn and watch him take a space away from the others as he demonstrated what he could do with the dual tonfa. Overall, his technique was good if a little slop but experience and time would rectify that without much effort. "Overall, you are doing well with them. I have no real commentary to offer aside from keep pushing yourself with them if you want to use them in the future and you will see the inexperience quickly disappear."

---

OOC:

• WC: 1468/1000
• PC: 2/5

 

[Chikamatsu Shin]

Shin's pale blue eyes swept across the sparring room, observing each student's form with clinical precision.

Goro's grip on the shuriken and senbon was steady,years of underground precision work evident in the controlled tension of his six hands. Yuka's throat-strike had been clean, if predictable. Suisen's tonfawork showed improvement, though the weapon clearly wasn't his natural choice. Sabishii would need encouragement, not criticism. Shinda awaited his assignment with patient stillness. Harikēn's shadow boxing showed promise.

"Adequate," Shin said simply, stepping toward the center of the room. "But form means nothing without purpose. Kyuji-sensei has provided excellent corrections to your technique. Now we address why Taijutsu matters."

He raised one hand, chakra flowing through the familiar patterns. A beautiful flower bloomed in his palm—petals of deep violet and gold, impossibly vibrant against the plain wood of the dojo floor. As it opened fully, several more sprouted around the room's perimeter, releasing faint clouds of pollen that drifted through the air like morning mist.

"I am not a Taijutsuist," Shin stated, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "My talent lies elsewhere—in poisons, in genjutsu, in the subtle arts that kill before the enemy realizes they've been touched. But I would be dead ten times over if I had neglected my weapon training."

He gestured to the weapons on the table.

"You will each find your specialty. Some of you may become Ninjutsu masters, bending the elements to your will. Others may walk the path of Genjutsu, breaking minds with illusion. But the moment you face an opponent immune to chakra, or find yourself in a situation where your reserves are depleted, your survival will depend on this—" He tapped a wooden bokken. "—your ability to fight with what you hold in your hands."

The pollen continued to drift, invisible threads of his chakra weaving through the air, making contact with each student's skin, their lungs, their chakra network.

Soon, they would feel it. The weapons in their hands would begin to burn... not truly though, but the nerves would scream as if scalded by fire. An illusion, yes, but one that felt devastatingly real.

Shin's expression remained composed, though a slight smile touched his lips.

"Dedication to the craft of Taijutsu is not optional. It is survival. And survival often requires enduring discomfort, pain, and circumstances that make you question your choice to walk this path."

His pale blue eyes swept across each student once more.

"So I ask you now, how much dedication are you willing to have? Will you endure what comes and prove you belong here? Or would you prefer the comfortable life of a merchant? A mechanic? There is no shame in choosing safety over the blade."

The smile widened, just slightly. Encouraging. Challenging.

"But if you stay, show me your resolve. Show Kyuji-sensei your resolve. Prove that you can hold your weapon even when everything in your body screams to drop it. Prove that you can still fight when your body is begging for death."

WC: 1000+/1000
PC: 3/5

((OoC: I had Shin summon a Twilight Sage [Anchor] and have it use Hot Weapon on all of you. 0s timing though Initiative, Illusory Cantrip, Reflexively trigger. With the exception of Kyuuji i am 99% certain none of yall could actually deny my Genjutsu as my base roll is like 1d20+30))

 

[Goro]

Another body crossed the threshold, a boy with hair that betrayed his age. If someone looked at Goro’s silver hair, they would likely say the same about him. Goro refocused on Shin, waiting and standing there patiently as the silence stretched on. The waiting went on for so long that Goro started to get nervous. He expected they might take turns or partner up, yet nothing happened. He was expected to figure out what made him unique on his own. The Tsuchigumo were normally precise with their orders because structure and preparation were necessary for the Hive to function. This lack of a blueprint felt unnatural.

He watched as the other kids grabbed their weapons and began to experiment. Some appeared awkward while others seemed practiced. Sabishii struggled with his movements and then surprisingly just gave up, which was a sight that sat wrong with Goro. In the tunnels, you worked until the task was finished. Shinda remained in a state of patient stillness and eventually asked the instructor to choose a path for him. It was a safe choice, but it lacked the initiative the teachers seemed to be hunting for. Nearby, another student picked up a pair of tonfa and handled them with surprising competence, his form steady and practiced despite the unfamiliar weight.

Goro’s own stillness was eventually broken by Kyuji-sensei. Her voice was sharp as she reprimanded him for standing like a statue, and she demanded he target her. This provided the one thing Goro’s mind needed to function, which was a clear objective. But before he could make his move, Shin moved to the center of the room. He spoke of survival and the reality of life when chakra fails. Then the violet and gold flowers bloomed, and the pollen drifted through the air, dancing on the nose of the six armed boy.

Goro felt the heat before his brain could register what was happening. The wooden training projectiles in his hands suddenly felt as though they had been dipped in molten metal. His nerves screamed in protest. Even though his eyes told him he held simple wood, his brain insisted he was clutching white-hot iron. The Hot Weapon genjutsu hit him with a physical torment of agony. His own fingers twitched with the primal urge to let go.

However he did not drop them. He ground his teeth together as the pain flared white in his mind. He was a laborer who had handled caustic chemicals and rough stone, so he knew he could handle this, but he needed a way to fight through the sensory overload. Goro stood silently with a white noise lacing his mind as he locked in. He was truly lost in thought over what he actually wanted, which was to be more than just a tool for others to use. He considered the weapons and the searing heat, and then he found a solution.

He leaned his head back and focused his chakra at his navel core. A chemical reaction triggered internally to produce a fluid guided by his instincts. His cheeks puffed as the liquid lurched from his mouth in a thick, silk texture that was thicker than common ninja wire. Goro dropped the burning projectiles into his lower hands and used his primary hands to catch the spooling silk. He wove the thread with mechanical speed and spooled it over the projectiles horizontally. He placed them so their edges jutted out from the thread like the teeth of a chainsaw, creating a makeshift and weighted whip.

To solve the issue of the heat, he grabbed two training kunai and placed them handle to handle. He began wrapping the silk thread around them in layer after layer until the wood was buried under a thick, insulated grip. He was no longer touching the hot weapon directly because he was holding a handle of his own creation. The illusion still hissed in the back of his mind, but the physical barrier of the silk gave him the mental leverage to ignore the phantom burns.

He had never used a whip before, but he remembered the elders using ninja wire to strike distant targets. It was all about momentum and reach. Goro gripped the silk-wrapped handle while his four extra arms tensed to brace himself against the residual pain. He looked at Kyuji-sensei with his red eyes narrowed. He would not be a wimp or lose out to doubt. With a sharp and exhaled grunt, Goro swung the makeshift silk-whip outward. The weighted projectiles whistled through the air and trailed white thread as he made his first awkward and pained strike toward his sensei.

WC: 1000+/1000
PC: 3/5

 

[Hokkyoku Yuka]

The woman, Kyuji, spoke, and Yuka's attention went to her as she criticized Yuka's technique. She stared up at the woman, the wooden Kunai at her side as she listened. Height difference, size difference. All valid points. Going for the legs would be an easier option. "Thank you for your... Input, Sensei." Yuka replied as she held up her Kunai. She prepared to make another practice slash. 'The legs, maybe the thigh,' She thought as she envisioned an adult in front of her. She took a step forward and slashed low. She looked at the others for a moment. Each choose their own type of weapon. None of them kept her interest, however. Sabishii would be the only one she watched for a little bit longer. After her family took him in, his abilities were about the only thing that interested her. Death followed him.

Then Shin spoke, Yuka glanced at him as he explained that he was not a taijutsu-ist. She hardly cared what his specialty was, but she wondered why he chose to lead a class he didn't specialize in. She watched as he raised his hand, and before she knew it, her hands started to burn. It was slow at first, the heat, then it rapidly became hotter, her jaw tightened, and her grip on the Kunai tightened. She had held a weapon before plenty of times; holding it through pain was different. She glared at Shin; she felt heat, not related to the genjutsu. 'Don't let go,' She thought, but her hands burned. He wanted proof she could still fight? It felt awful, the burning, her hands wanted to drop the Kunai, but if she did, it would be admitting defeat.

Something her father taught her, a ninjutsu for self-defense. She remembered it, stone bullet. She lifted her hands and looked at them, the kunai in her left hand, and her right hand trembled slightly. 'This piece of shit,' she thought as she looked back to their Kazekage, their sensei. She had seen her father perform one-handed seals before; she knew it was possible. She lifted her hand and channeled her chakra. She was trying to cast Stone Bullet with single-hand seals. Like she had seen her father do before. She didn't like being hurt, and she wasn't going to stand there and just take it either. She didn't care who he was. She was seeing red. "Earth release, Stone Bullet," Yuka muttered through the pain and clenched teeth. Yuka pushed her chakra outward, and stone pellets formed in front of her, shooting toward Shin. It was sloppy, unrefined. However, in this moment, she just wanted one thing: to hurt him as he hurt her. She was not thinking about consequences; the other students in the room didn't exist to her.

[MFT]
[OOC: Casting Stone bullet and using this RP to apply for the nimble hands ability ]

WC: 1,261/1000
PC: 3/5

 

[Kyouketsu Shinda]

A decision was made for him and without missing a beat, a wooden sword would find itself within his grasp. It's model wasn't the traditional bokken style, having a straighter -blade- profile which resembled more of a piercing sword than a slashing one. There was familiarity in his hand, the handle feeling second nature to him regardless of how he adjusted his hold. He became distracted by the instruction of their teacher, his mind following everything said though not really taking to heart the gravity of the words. His inexperience made him completely unaware of what Shin was actually doing....at first.

The sensation crept in before Shinda recognized it for what it was, as initially he felt a warmth along his knuckles. Then it began to become sharpened, the wooden surface trapped in his clenched fist seemed to flare, while his nerves began slowly screaming as if his bones had been shoved into open flame. He immediately knew it wasn’t real, his mind identified it quickly as some genjutsu. The problem Shinda encountered was although his mind knew that could be the only possibility, his body didn’t care. Muscles became locked and tense while his breath was caught at the base of his throat. He could feel his fingers begin to tremble as if they were fighting against the urge to let go. The instinct to release came hard and fast but before it could take root, before he lost grip, the smell hit him and only him. His senses had started to equate this feeling with past experiences to cope.

A smokey taste started to linger on his tongue as the air became infused with notes of char and ash. Not imagined like an hallutionation, but remembered because he'd actually tasted and smelled it before. The burning sensation dragged something up from deep inside him as metaphorical funeral pyres lined him in silence, twenty-three bodies laid out beneath ritual cloth. Carmot enriched flames licking upward into the sky, blackened smoke filtering towards the awaiting heavens. Incense burned hick, mixing poorly with the unmistakable stench of flesh turning to ash and bone beginning to char. He remembered standing too close, watching the fire eat what had once been village shinobi. People who had given their lives as proper tools of the village reduced to heat and reverence. There and then, along the corners of his eyes tears started to flow, like slow drops from a faucet.

This memory swallowed the physical pain while his eyes unfocused, staring through his own hand as the dojo dissolved into flickering orange light. Compared to that day, the heat coming from twenty three fires, this burning was nothing. This was quiet, there were no families in mourning and no one chanting names that would never answer back again. Around him, he heard the others struggle but it felt far away. The pain dulled him physically, not because it lessened, but because he stopped giving it space. Each tear that fell, carried with it a resolve that was shared by experience and memory. Shinda breathed slowly as his lungs found air again, while he had submerged himself in the memory rather than the illusion. Having a gaze that remained unbroken, despite the tears and the growing pressure around his heart, each finger suddenly found strength. This was when the pain peaked, finally overcoming his barrier of memories. Yet despite this surge of heat and pain, he remained still with his grip unbroken and his posture steady. He was able to endure because burning was familiar, heat was common and yet he was alive. Fire and flames were for the memory of the dead, not as a reason to fear living. To fear being of use. To fear being a tool of the village. To be like the twenty three, shinobi.

With his [Grip] enforced, Shinda's next steps were light and practiced, while pain seared at his every movement. A straight forward stab, simple and immediately followed up with nine more. Each, causing a tear to free from his eyes the moment he stepped or followed through. Through these tears however his expression had not once mimic'd that of sadness, but focus. He wasn't sad, simply motivated...

[WC: 701]
[Post 3 of 5: 1000+ wc / 1000 wc]