The petals drifted lazily around them, the Arboretum settling into a peaceful hum now that the illusion had been dismissed. Shin stood still for a long moment as the remnants of the classroom’s fabricated walls dissolved fully into the earth, his attention lingering on the flowers shifting in the passing breeze. It always amazed him how serene this place could feel, even when his mind refused the same calm. He inhaled slowly, letting the familiar scent of blooming orchids remind him that he was home, a rare thing for any shinobi, rarer still for one who had worn so many titles. Kazekage, Sennin, Overseer… and yet none of them ever reassured him that he was enough.
His eyes lowered briefly. He still remembered every name of the ones he could not save. Training students and shaping futures was a joy and a burden that never lightened. At last, he shifted his stance. No grand gesture. Just a single foot sliding back into alignment with his shoulders, his weight settling lower. It was the kind of change that only experienced shinobi noticed, the quiet transition from instructor to combatant. The scent of his signature Yurei Orchid, the trademark of the Chikamatsu Clan, filled the air. If his daughter had been doing her studying of familial techniques she would recognize this as the Phantosmia fighting style. A technique useable only by those with the innate talent towards manipulating the mind. His body actively released hormones which would cause hallucinations and manipulations to become more effective, and more destructive against anyone near him.
“Before you can master Genjutsu or Ninjutsu… you must first master the vessel that wields them.”
The tone of his voice did not rise, yet the air felt sharper around the edges. He reached to a pouch along his lower back and withdrew a roll of simple handwraps. No sealwork. No chakra enhancement. The most basic tool a shinobi could claim. He held them out to Kasai without ceremony.
“Shoes off. Hands wrapped. The body must feel the ground if it is to command it.”
As she prepared, he stepped a few paces away, giving her room. His gaze swept the surroundings, the wide-open expanse, the soft earth beneath, perfect for what came next.
“Show me how your body naturally defends itself. No stance you have been taught. No posture designed to impress a teacher. Instinct alone.”
He folded his arms behind his back again, not in superiority, but in observation. Years of battlefield medicine had trained his eyes to see everything: the angle of a knee, the tension in the throat, the hesitation in a wrist. The body confessed truths the mind did not yet understand.
“Do not overthink it, Kasai. Let your feet tell you what they fear. Let your breathing decide whether you advance… or retreat.”
A small breeze curled petals around her ankles, as if encouraging motion.
Shin exhaled, the faintest trace of warmth emerging in his voice.
“When you are ready… stand.”
[WC:497]
[1/5]
His eyes lowered briefly. He still remembered every name of the ones he could not save. Training students and shaping futures was a joy and a burden that never lightened. At last, he shifted his stance. No grand gesture. Just a single foot sliding back into alignment with his shoulders, his weight settling lower. It was the kind of change that only experienced shinobi noticed, the quiet transition from instructor to combatant. The scent of his signature Yurei Orchid, the trademark of the Chikamatsu Clan, filled the air. If his daughter had been doing her studying of familial techniques she would recognize this as the Phantosmia fighting style. A technique useable only by those with the innate talent towards manipulating the mind. His body actively released hormones which would cause hallucinations and manipulations to become more effective, and more destructive against anyone near him.
“Before you can master Genjutsu or Ninjutsu… you must first master the vessel that wields them.”
The tone of his voice did not rise, yet the air felt sharper around the edges. He reached to a pouch along his lower back and withdrew a roll of simple handwraps. No sealwork. No chakra enhancement. The most basic tool a shinobi could claim. He held them out to Kasai without ceremony.
“Shoes off. Hands wrapped. The body must feel the ground if it is to command it.”
As she prepared, he stepped a few paces away, giving her room. His gaze swept the surroundings, the wide-open expanse, the soft earth beneath, perfect for what came next.
“Show me how your body naturally defends itself. No stance you have been taught. No posture designed to impress a teacher. Instinct alone.”
He folded his arms behind his back again, not in superiority, but in observation. Years of battlefield medicine had trained his eyes to see everything: the angle of a knee, the tension in the throat, the hesitation in a wrist. The body confessed truths the mind did not yet understand.
“Do not overthink it, Kasai. Let your feet tell you what they fear. Let your breathing decide whether you advance… or retreat.”
A small breeze curled petals around her ankles, as if encouraging motion.
Shin exhaled, the faintest trace of warmth emerging in his voice.
“When you are ready… stand.”
[WC:497]
[1/5]