The following week from his meeting with Kuro could be summed up as calm and relaxing. It was a very weird sensation but for the following seven days Michino didn't hear a single peep out of the voice in his head that was normally threatening him and trying to take over his body. Today was the last week in the day, it was late afternoon and the Genin was wrapping up his training session.
His focus was shifted for the first time somewhat with the ability to think with far more clarity. The mental practices and studying he had been pushing back because of the disruption was now finally caught up with. Of course this meant his physical limits were to be pushed with each training session; he was a Toraono afterall. Every day the shinobi pushed how far his body would allow him to go and today was no exception.
As the blazing sun slowly started it's last track down beyond the horizon he perched himself on the top of the highest pillar he could find outside the dojo using only the middle finger of his right hand to hold his weight. He had held this position, slowly cooking in the sun as he also trained mentally on resiting heat, since about twelve that afternoon. A small black stain where his sweat had rolled into a ever evaporating pool around the finger finally began to stop steaming when the drops hit the concrete. Pleased that he had managed to survive the last six hours without passing out from heat stroke, Michino carefully allowed his core muscles to relax so he could curl his body up and downwards until he was sitting on top of the pillar. He looked out towards the setting sun with hopeful eyes as he reached towards his side and pulled up a small water bottle and began to greedily drain its contents.
He had not forgotten what the Demonbeast King had offered him. It was something that poked the back of his mind every day, and every one of them leading up to now he had pushed it back so he could catch up on everything he had in backlog for study. Today he had allowed the thought to soak into his conscious so he could finally make a decision. He wondered if it was a ritual of battle or one of sheer mental ability. He had went over all the known sealing jutsu he was aware of and how they worked and still couldn't fathom how Kuro would split apart his two selves and seal one of them into something. While he was thinking to himself his left hand had absently crept into his hip pocket and began to stroke the walnut casing of the pocket knife he kept on him at all times. It only took a few moments for him to realize what he was doing. With curiosity he pulled out the knife and with a flick of his wrist flipped the blade out of its casing. It was a rather large knife, the blade just shy of six inches. It was a thin and elegant straight edge knife without a point and when unfolded looked like a barber's razor however the way the tang of the blade was set into the handle it was obviously crafted for battle. The wood casing had burnt etchings of the Toraono clan symbol and a strange runic sign that he had never been able to figure out the meaning behind. According to some of his kin the knife was the only thing left in his mother's possession that was of note; apparently she had been a mission-to-mission kind of shinobi who rarely rested. They were the type to rarely have items of value or anything that was considered "treasured". Twirling the knife in his hand absently he watched as the burning orange light reflected off the blade trying to finally make up his mind about the sealing.
It was while he was twirling the blade did he catch its eyes. Catching the knife by the hilt he stared into the reflection of the not him. The Otherside was looking back at him but instead of the normal terror that his darker half tried to impose on him was a look of pleading. Michi tried to listen hard for his other half but there was no audio, just a panic expression on his own face that he didn't feel. Then just as suddenly as he had caught his Otherself, in a blink, he was looking only at his own face. With a quick movement of his hands the blade lock was flipped allowing him to folded it back into the casing and slide it back into his pocket while the rest of his body gathered itself to stand up. He looked down at the long drop before him and without hesitation stepped off the pillar.
The air rushed up to greet him quickly followed by the ground that felt akin to landing on pillows after focusing a sudden blast of his own chakra to pad the science of physics. A plum of sand followed in his landing but he strolled away from the pillar and inside of the dojo with the haste of one with purpose. Michino had no idea why but something just didn't feel right.
Sure enough as soon as he stepped across the threshold of inside and outside the building a sudden and sharp pain speared him right in the center of his chest. His eyes grew wide and he clutched at his breast plate as his breath suddenly turned short. Dropping on a knee the Toraono clutched hard on the door frame to keep from falling over completely. A numbing sensation shot down the arm holding the frame and his fingers slipped down it as his body fell towards the ground. Only a single word escaped his lips though he wasn't positive that anyone could hear his plead,
"Help..."
His focus was shifted for the first time somewhat with the ability to think with far more clarity. The mental practices and studying he had been pushing back because of the disruption was now finally caught up with. Of course this meant his physical limits were to be pushed with each training session; he was a Toraono afterall. Every day the shinobi pushed how far his body would allow him to go and today was no exception.
As the blazing sun slowly started it's last track down beyond the horizon he perched himself on the top of the highest pillar he could find outside the dojo using only the middle finger of his right hand to hold his weight. He had held this position, slowly cooking in the sun as he also trained mentally on resiting heat, since about twelve that afternoon. A small black stain where his sweat had rolled into a ever evaporating pool around the finger finally began to stop steaming when the drops hit the concrete. Pleased that he had managed to survive the last six hours without passing out from heat stroke, Michino carefully allowed his core muscles to relax so he could curl his body up and downwards until he was sitting on top of the pillar. He looked out towards the setting sun with hopeful eyes as he reached towards his side and pulled up a small water bottle and began to greedily drain its contents.
He had not forgotten what the Demonbeast King had offered him. It was something that poked the back of his mind every day, and every one of them leading up to now he had pushed it back so he could catch up on everything he had in backlog for study. Today he had allowed the thought to soak into his conscious so he could finally make a decision. He wondered if it was a ritual of battle or one of sheer mental ability. He had went over all the known sealing jutsu he was aware of and how they worked and still couldn't fathom how Kuro would split apart his two selves and seal one of them into something. While he was thinking to himself his left hand had absently crept into his hip pocket and began to stroke the walnut casing of the pocket knife he kept on him at all times. It only took a few moments for him to realize what he was doing. With curiosity he pulled out the knife and with a flick of his wrist flipped the blade out of its casing. It was a rather large knife, the blade just shy of six inches. It was a thin and elegant straight edge knife without a point and when unfolded looked like a barber's razor however the way the tang of the blade was set into the handle it was obviously crafted for battle. The wood casing had burnt etchings of the Toraono clan symbol and a strange runic sign that he had never been able to figure out the meaning behind. According to some of his kin the knife was the only thing left in his mother's possession that was of note; apparently she had been a mission-to-mission kind of shinobi who rarely rested. They were the type to rarely have items of value or anything that was considered "treasured". Twirling the knife in his hand absently he watched as the burning orange light reflected off the blade trying to finally make up his mind about the sealing.
It was while he was twirling the blade did he catch its eyes. Catching the knife by the hilt he stared into the reflection of the not him. The Otherside was looking back at him but instead of the normal terror that his darker half tried to impose on him was a look of pleading. Michi tried to listen hard for his other half but there was no audio, just a panic expression on his own face that he didn't feel. Then just as suddenly as he had caught his Otherself, in a blink, he was looking only at his own face. With a quick movement of his hands the blade lock was flipped allowing him to folded it back into the casing and slide it back into his pocket while the rest of his body gathered itself to stand up. He looked down at the long drop before him and without hesitation stepped off the pillar.
The air rushed up to greet him quickly followed by the ground that felt akin to landing on pillows after focusing a sudden blast of his own chakra to pad the science of physics. A plum of sand followed in his landing but he strolled away from the pillar and inside of the dojo with the haste of one with purpose. Michino had no idea why but something just didn't feel right.
Sure enough as soon as he stepped across the threshold of inside and outside the building a sudden and sharp pain speared him right in the center of his chest. His eyes grew wide and he clutched at his breast plate as his breath suddenly turned short. Dropping on a knee the Toraono clutched hard on the door frame to keep from falling over completely. A numbing sensation shot down the arm holding the frame and his fingers slipped down it as his body fell towards the ground. Only a single word escaped his lips though he wasn't positive that anyone could hear his plead,
"Help..."
