Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Sun Mar 05, 2017 2:10 pm

The sounds of birds filled the crisp air as Hitori stirred from his half-baked slumber. The sunrise peaked over the horizon, like a child playing peek-a-boo. However, Kumogakure’s typically beautiful sunrise was not warm. It did not fill the air with an orange, welcoming tint. It did not greet Hitori with open arms as he awoke. It did not guide the birds and wildlife. It’s rays did not penetrate Hitori’s window and warm him from a dark and cold night.
No, the sun was cool. It was pale… the clouds around it absorbed most of its light, and storm clouds maneuvered on the horizon like a vicious, dark army preparing for battle, much like Kumo was now. After last night with Komori, Komon, and Sakana, Hitori was drained. He trained so much, and was emotionally exhausted, now physically as well. The Uzumaki tried to open his eyes, forcing himself to rise from his restless sleep. His eyes were bloodshot and watering due to his sleeplessness and drained energy.
The Uzumaki forced himself out of his bed to stare outside. The village seemed quiet, save the birds. Kumogakure was a typically bustling and teeming with life. Not today. Hitori assumed most of everyone was at the training grounds or in their homes, and he couldn’t blame them. People were either scared or enthusiastic toward this new kage figure. And so was Hitori.
The birds flew from tree to tree, landing and continuing about their day as if nothing happened. They were like the previous Kumogakure.
Hitori forced himself from his bed, rubbing his eyes and slouching over the side of it. He took a deep breath and clutched his stomach. It ached with discomfort, but not from any sickness or a soured meal. Hitori felt uneasy and monstrously nervous after the announcement. And after Komori and Komon’s responses… He wasn’t exactly peppy anymore.
The Uzumaki boy washed his face in the sink with hot water. The mirror steamed over and the environment became humid. He pinched the bridge of his nose, now contemplated the very thought of war as he turned the water off. Death everywhere. Hitori could barely handle himself after almost killing a man, but this…
Despite his promise, Hitori wasn’t sure he could go without killing someone during this war. And it was different from what he had experienced on his first mission. That was self-defense and Hitori felt awful about it despite what the grave robbers had done. But war….
Hitori thought about all the death that would spawn from such a conflict. Women, children, innocent bystanders and villagers. Peaceful shinobi who didn’t want conflicts. The young, the old, the mourning… the sick.
Hitori punched the wall, shattering the wood above the sink. Tears ran down his face, mixing with the exfoliating water he had applied to it. He clenched his fist and let them drip on his shirt and into the sink. The Uzumaki slammed his hands onto the porcelain sink, limiting his strength so he was not to break it.
The genin ran out of the bathroom and into his mother and father’s memorial room, sobbing angrily. “Why!?” he yelled, walking in circles as he entered. “Why does it have to be like this! Every time something great happens to me, it all goes to hell! Why was I born here of all places! Why this kage! Why Maku! How could you bring me here!” Hitori yelled glaring at the painting of his mother and father. There was so much hate and frustration in his eyes. “Why do I have to live here and fight for what you fought for! Why did you fight for this village!? Why did you do this to me! Hitori became berserk, throwing scrolls and paintings off desks and stools of his mother and father. “You did this to me!” he yelled, his eyes teeming with water.
The Uzumaki boy crashed furniture, his tears blinding him. He cracked paintings over his knee and punched through the wall. “Why!? Why!? Why!? Why!?” he screamed, punching with each utterance of the word.
The red-haired boy slammed his hand onto a desk, almost clawing through it with his fingernails, and grasped a kunai. He swiftly turned toward the painting of his mother and father and reared back to throw it. “Why?!” he yelled.
“Why…?” Tears streamed down Hitori’s face as he dropped the kunai.
Hitori fell back, sitting up against the wall. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. “Why did you leave me…?” he asked, his voice trembling. Hitori shook as he switched from anger to solemnness. He felt it. The loneliness. He felt alone again, a feeling he was all too familiar with. Only recently, the feeling had been lost. Up until the man in the black cloak gave his speech. Up until Komon and Komori refused to denounce the upcoming massacre.
Time passed as Hitori ran out of tears to cry, leaving a dry sob in its wake. He shook and groaned. His hands bled from the punches. He looked up at them, and he began to rub them as he stood, refusing to look at his parents’ faces.
Hitori washed his hands off. A thin, red liquid dripped down the drain of the sink as his hands cleared of crimson stains. Hitori washed his face once more and dried it and his hands off.
The genin made his way to his father’s collection of various scrolls and novels, the library. Hitori slowly walked inside, trudging along until he met the ladder. He slowly walked up the old wooden construction until meeting what he desired: the chakra scalpel scroll.
The Uzumaki boy grasped his prize and blew on it. Dust launched up into the air, and Hitori fanned it aside and brushed off the more tenacious layer of dust residing on the scroll. He slowly climbed down from the ladder and exited the room, hooking the scroll to his bag.
Hitori made his way to his front door, but he stopped. He looked back toward his parents’ room and stood, silent.
The was the first time Hitori did not say goodbye.
The Genin shut the door behind him and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to see Komon or Komori today. Or anyone. Despite the loneliness he felt, Hitori could not bring himself to look at them. Not now. Not knowing what they did.
The wind was crisp and cold, and despite the sun’s futile attempts to warm him, Hitori remained cold as he walked along the pavement. The boy trudged along, his expression blank and his emotions drained. He carried himself heavily, but pressed on. Hitori lacked his usual enthusiasm. Instead he walked as if he were carried a large weight, and with hesitance. Hitori’s legs tired as he walked on as he found it hard to press on. He lacked the will to persevere. But he had to. He did.
Hitori walked on, finally reaching the training ground. He planted his feet in the dirt and felt the dry soil. He would not stay here. And he would not go to his usual spot. Instead, Hitori pressed on, venturing into the woods. What little sunlight penetrated the mass of clouds began to peak through the treetops of the forest. Still, the light was faint, but bright enough for Hitori to read.
He unraveled his scroll and began to read from it. Stains littered the parchement, and the curved nature of the scroll made it difficult to handle and manage. Hitori placed it on the ground, using his elbows to form it into shape. He traced the text with his finger as he read.
“Allows the user to form chakra around their hands, and sharpen it along the edges. Although normally used for surgery, it can be used in battle, being sharp enough to inflict normal wounds as if it was a blade. The chakra also forms a barrier around ones hand allowing them to use their hand for protection, and even clash with blades.”
“Hm,” Hitori said, raised his index finger to his chin in thought. He turned his gaze to the handseals. There was more than he had anticipated, but nothing too difficult. Tiger → Horse → Rabbit → Rat → Dog.
Hitori got up from the ground and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and glanced at the hanseals. “Tiger,” he said, forming the seal. “Horse,” he said, forming the seal. “Rabbit,” he said, forming the seal. “Rat,” he said, forming the seal. “And Dog,” he said with finality, forming the seal. The Uzumaki boy focused his chakra into his hands, immediately making the connection with basic medical ninjutsu. The was different, however, as the jutsu seemed to be more inclined to create damage rather than to fix it.
Blue chakra formed over his hands. It felt hard and cold, different than his usual warm chakra. The chakra rolled off of his hands like an icy wave on a beach. The chakra was jagged, yet refined.
Hitori turned to look at a tree, eyeing the fresh bark. He looked down at his hands and bolted toward the tree, thrusting his hand forward. The strike split the bark evenly. Hitori withdrew his hand and once again observed it. “The scroll was right. This isn’t just for surgery.” Hitori maneuvered his arms in a flurry, hacking the tree’s bark.
The Uzumaki boy stopped, deactivating his chakra scalpels and taking a step back. The tree was marred by strikes, and it’s beautiful bark was ruined. Only Hitori didn’t care. He once again formed the handseals. “Tiger,” he said, forming the seal. “Horse,” he said, forming the seal. “Rabbit,” he said, forming the seal. “Rat,” he said, forming the seal. “And Dog,” he said, this time faster. He focused his chakra into his hands and activated the scalpel.
Hitori slashed at the tree once again, this time faster. And again. And again. Hitori carved into the tree with increasing aggression. He began to grunt with each strike until he became berserk, striking viciously into the tree. Visions of Maku, his mother, his father, Komori, and Komon filled his head. He thought of war, of what it would entail, and became more and more angry. The Uzumaki split the tree, carving through it. It began to fall on top of Hitori, encompassing him in its shadow. Hitori scowled at the tree and launched his chakra chains from his back, impaling the tree. Each barb split the bark, and shattered the tree above him. The three yellowish chains left bits of lumber in their wake, and, in Hitori’s anger, he created a shower of raining pine bits.
The pine littered his hair and jacket and the rest of the tree fell behind him. The Uzumaki boy bolted to the next tree and thrusted his hand forward. Bits of tree burst through the other end, shattered and maimed by Hitori’s chakra scalpel. The blue chakra teemed with cold hate that had resided within the Uzumaki. He retracted his hand from the tree, feeling the splintered pine. Carpenter ants poured from the tree. The genin stretched out his hand with force, feeling his boiling blood pump through it. His face and ears became hot. He was not accustomed to this emotion.
Rarely did Hitori became angry. Even less likely would he become violently angry. But it felt good. Hitori felt like a boiling teapot begging to burst. And he did.
The Uzumaki boy hacked the tree to pieces with his chakra scalpel, a horizontal slash, showering the fields with pine. Once again, he launched his chains into the tree, this time up through it. Hitori maneuvered the chains inside the tree in a corkscrew motion at his maximum speed. The sulfuric-like chains carved their way through the tree, and, once they reached the top, the yellowish chains split outwards, splitting the tree in dozens upon dozens of pieces, and even more shavings.

The bits of pine showered onto Hitori and he breathed heavily. The blue chakra erupting from his hands quelled and subsided, and his chakra chains slowly faded away as a yellow mist. Hitori dropped to his knees and breathed with difficulty.

WC: 2034

Sun Mar 05, 2017 3:11 pm

The aforementioned dull glow of the sun was actually rather pleasing to the Hozuki. The orange glow of the sunrise was actually a welcome sight, as it reflected the state of the village. To be preparing for battles to come on a day with blue skies and chirping birds and all of those other cliches just felt… wrong. It also made the sky more beautiful in his eyes. Orange was a nice change from the ever growing mundane of sky blue, and the clouds helped to ensure that the sun’s rays were not too blinding. As someone who tended to get dehydrated a lot, this was a welcome sensation to him. The atmosphere matched his current state of mind. Dull and clouded. Was he on the right side? Or was he a victim of a power hungry madman who was now their supreme general? The Makukage had a very elitist feel to his grandiose speech, one that worried the Hozuki. He would be fighting in a war with no clear winner. As well as no clarity to define which nation(s) would be in the right. It seemed as though the village of Kumogakure no Sato was preparing to be the aggressors in this conflict with their newfound imperialistic philosophy. He looked down at his hands. His fingers were sticking out of the fingerless black gloves that he was wearing, which merely covered only his palm and wrists. These were his weapons for war. Not the swords on his back, nor the kunai in the weapons pouches holstered to each of his legs. His hands. They were an extension of his chakra network, and the sole reason he was able to perform ninjutsu. Simple, fluid motions of these tools of his were enough to be able to perform feats of great skill. But a feat of skill for him was the death sentence of another. He then lowered his hands and continued walking to the training ground. The dual Tsubasa strapped to his back now seemed heavier. They had been a gift from Senshi Kobayashi upon completing the chuunin exams. Originally, he thanked the boy greatly and even paid for the labor of the blades at eight thousand ryo. They were trophies of sort, a milestone to show how far he had gotten. How far he had come to be able to protect others. Now they could be used as instruments to kill. An extension of his own body that he had not quite mastered. He did not fully agree to this war, but he would not allow himself to be killed, or any of his comrades for that matter as well. This meant that he would need to put in an absurd amount of training in order to make sure that he was in peak condition. Especially with his swords, as he was not too skilled in the art of weaponry.

He approached the woodlands of the training grounds, as it would make more sense for him to practice the sharpness of his blades against thick tree trunks instead of merely whistling through the air around his person. It was then that he heard the sound of a tree being cut. It seemed as though someone else had had a similar idea to his own. He smirked, as this meant that he would be able to have a sparring session as opposed to practicing against inanimate objects. He ran lightly, as he had spent more than enough time being stealthy in his chuunin exams that had given him more than enough experience. He flashbacked to silently running to a false ceiling tile to escape that hulking human spider abomination from his fifth exam. This thought halted his running speed for a moment, but he shook his head physically, as if that would mentally remove the memory as well, and continued forward towards the sound. He arrived just in time to notice a tree falling on a familiar red headed face and witness the shattering of the tree from the boy’s chakra chains. The boy seemed… angry. Every other instance between Komori and this boy had primarily been teasing and training, aside from that one mission. The last time he had seen Hitori’s chakra chains were when he nearly killed a man. It was good for him that he was finally managing to control his advanced bloodline, but the fury of it all still hit Komori like a semi. He witnessed the boy brutally decimate the tree that he had just set his sites on and approached him anyways upon the Uzumaki dropping to his knees. He cleared his throat to get the boy’s attention, not sure of what to actually say in response.

WC: 784

Sun Mar 05, 2017 3:51 pm

Hitori breathed loudly, hearing the crunch of grass and pine behind. He raised his hand to his brow, wiping the sweat off of his face. It tasted of a salt. Hitori looked over his shoulder to notice an older boy, wearing a blue shirt with various black accessories and a familiar face. It was Komori Hozuki. Hitori turned back to face the tree and took a deep breath. He rose his hands to his hand in order to control his breathing. His hands ached from the pain, and his body ached from the chakra output. Hitori had never pushed himself this far before. He had never gotten this angry before.
“Hey, Komori,” he said, taking another breath.
He was calmer now, and his breathing had slowed to almost normal. Hitori slowly raised himself from his bed of pine shaving and splintered pieces. He didn’t want to look at Komori. Not right now.
Hitori hoped he was just scared. Like he was. Scared to speak out against the Kage, scared to leave the village. Komori wouldn’t support this war willingly. At least that’s what he hoped. But his indifference… irked the Uzumaki. It frustrated him to his core, as did this new leader of Kumogakure’s military.

Hitori looked up at the cloudy sky. He spoke to Komori without looking at him. “Doing well, I hope? What’re you doing here?”

WC: 2262

Sun Mar 05, 2017 4:01 pm

He could not help but notice that the boy seemed to refuse to look at him. He decided it was best not to press the matter, especially considering the display of rage that he had just seen. “I’d assume the same as you, Hitori. I came out here to practice some more with my Tsubasa,” he said gesturing to the blades which were strapped to his back. “I might need to use them more. And soon…” His voice trailed off. He had never intended to really kill with them. “Anyways, I noticed that you seem to be able to cut into trees with those hands of yours.” He smirked in an attempt to diffuse any awkward feeling in the atmosphere between them, despite Hitori not even looking in his direction. “Care to test that ability against my blades? Luckily, they’re designed for more defensive purposes, as the sawed edge is more for catching the end of a blade and disarming an enemy.” He thought about Max, who had literally been disarmed during a mission. “I do, however, assure you that your arms will remain attached to your body.” He gave a light chuckle at his own remark and to what he was about to say, “Most likely.” He would then await for Hitori’s response as he placed his right hand on the sword strapped to his right shoulder, so that he would be able to draw it without having to waste too much time. “Well, what do you say?”

WC: 1033

Sun Mar 05, 2017 4:38 pm

Hitori nodded softly to himself at Komori talked. Most of what he said blended together in a mess of Hitori zoning out, disinterest, and a reluctance to even look at the Hozuki. The Uzumaki boy looked down at his hands. They were bleeding, but the chakra scalpels were supposed to guard him from such injuries. He stirred around the chips of pine with his finger. Blood ran down his hands and stained the wood below.
Hitori had often been alone since his mother died. For what seemed like years, Hitori was vexed and bullied by other people his age, and he was rarely spoken to by anyone else. Komon and Komori were his first real friends, but now he felt more alone than ever. It was similar to losing his mother, but at the same time, they were still here. It was just different now. The war was changing everything and it hadn’t even started. Or was it?
Everything felt different, but he still had Komon and Komori. Or at least he thought he did. He was so angry at them, yet he could understand why they acted the way they had. But it wasn’t moral. But they didn’t want to die, either. But Komori was so indifferent. But was it a ruse?
Hitori’s head began to hurt. He didn’t know whether to be angry or understanding. Hitori gripped his pine chips into his hand, crushing them. The pine scratched the outer layer of his skin.
Just talk to him. Nothing’s happened. We’re still friends.

Hitori took a deep breath, releasing the chips in his hands. He heard Komori’s offer and began nodding. “Ye-yeah. Sure. I can spar with you a bit. “Just let me gather myself.”

WC: 2549

Sun Mar 05, 2017 11:24 pm

Based upon the rather melodramatic display that he had just witnessed, Komori opted that it would be good for the medic to collect himself and preferably calm down. Unless.. The boy’s rage seemed to make him more of a force to be reckoned with. With his chakra chains and rage combined… No. His own voice stopped his train of thought. You can’t do this. He was a boy. But that was all. He was just a boy and it was just wrong to think otherwise. He could not hone Hitori’s anger and frustration. He was not going to hone the boy’s temper to make him an instrument of war. War, war war. That seemed to be the only thing happening lately. Their supposed undesirable peace had been stripped away from them willingly as the aura of production and preparation drowned out everything. Clothing suppliers turned to producing leather clothing in preparation for the poorest civilians who wanted to fight. Blacksmiths turned from forging tools to full out weapon production. The industriousness that stemmed from war was like a plague, it seemed, that had befallen the village. Some cried for bloodshed and conquest while others viewed it as peaceful yet stern acquisition of land. Mere territorial expansion to secure resources for the benefit of the motherland, the great city of Kumogakure. Or once great. The general outlook of the city itself would vary depending on the consequences of war. Would Kumogakure be seen as a savior to forgotten people? Inviting others to join them as they expanded their power? Or would we be seen as an invading force, coming to take away land and capital that would not be ours in the first place. Regardless, it would happen and Komori could tell that it was affecting Hitori more so than he was letting on. He would not sharpen Hitori’s rage to use as a blade in the fires of war. No, he would channel it. He would let him release this built up tension within his very being. “You won’t have time for that in the heat of battle, come on,” Komori said. This was partially being said to goad the boy on, and see whether or not he would be able to come to terms with war. Was this his trigger? Was the mere thought of war enough to ignite a righteous fury inside of him? Komori unsheathed both of his blades and held them at his sides. The sawed off edges of each were prepared to catch the chakra coated hands of the boy, without being sharp enough to accidentally cut into him. Once again, these blades were made for more defensive purposes than offensive. Komori took a grounded stance, with his blades drawn close to him so that he would be able to defend himself as much as possible, in a way that mimicked the bukijutsu art of the parry.

WC: 1515

Sun Mar 05, 2017 11:42 pm

Hitori turned to face Komori. His eyebrows had lowered. “This isn’t battle, Komori. This is peace. For now, at least.” Hitori stood up and brushed the pine chips from his coat. “I want to keep it that way. For now. Until that man sends us wherever his sadistic gaze falls.”
Hitori glanced at his parchment from afar, quickly reading it. The Uzumaki boy raised his hands and began to form the handseals. “Tiger,” he said, forming the seal. “Horse,” he said, forming the seal. “Rabbit,” he said, forming the seal. “Rat,” he said, forming the seal. “And Dog.” His hands erupted in a brilliant blue color, as if blue fire, and his chakra rolled off of his hands, surging.

Hitori took a step forward, placing his right foot in front of the other. The red haired Uzumaki spun his arms in a flurry, his hands forming circular lines and cyan fire, until he came to a stop, holding his right hand toward Komori and his left close to his chest.

WC: 2719

Mon Mar 06, 2017 12:39 am

“We can’t get used to the peace.” Life seemed to be developing into battles anyways. Shinobi were soldiers, practically bred for war. Hitori, on the other hand, was a medical shinobi. He had been motivated by the desire to heal others. Komori, on the other hand, sought to defend others. If they were a target, he would be their shield. As a genin, he had been known to be hot headed and rather confrontational. The rank of chuunin seemed to have aged him about three years or so. He had gotten a new hair cut afterwards and changed his appearance, which only further cemented the fact that he had grown, both physically and mentally. Hmm. Seemed as though Hitori was awaiting a first strike. No matter, then. Komori raised his left blade in an arc above his head, intent on bringing it down atop the Uzumaki boy, hoping that he would raise his right hand to block, while simultaneously swinging his right hand horizontally, resulting in Hitori being struck at from two separate angles at a speed reasonable enough to where Hitori could react and move in time, provided that he would have to be able to recognize where each blade was striking.

WC: 1718

Mon Mar 06, 2017 8:26 pm

You’re right. We can’t get used to peace. Not with people like Maku holding positions of power. “Then I’ll have to change it to where we can have peace forever.”

Hitori watched Komori’s movements closely. He shifted his feet through the dirt, sliding it slowly forward. Sweat ran down Hitori’s brow as Komori took up his swords. The Uzumaki boy breathed deeply and prepared. Anticipation grew inside him, then Komori struck, slower than he was capable of. Hitori scanned his hand movements and quickly assessed where he was striking. Above and from the side. Two strikes. Hitori quickly raised his right hand to intercept the falling blade, and he used his left the clash with the horizontal blade. The Uzumaki planted his his back foot into the ground and contorted his body in a twist, rising his front leg and aiming for Komori’s chest.

WC: 2863

Mon Mar 06, 2017 10:55 pm

Komori easily noticed the kick headed towards him, but he allowed it to connect with him anyways. The Hozuki’s motives would not quite be clear to Hitori yet, but it was for the best. Komori was pushed back a few feet, and stepped backwards even further to put some distance between them. He was impressed that the Uzumaki had countered his strikes, despite slowing down a bit to give him a fair chance. He felt the piercing on his left ear seem to weigh him down as it continued to passively channel his chakra and allow him to move faster than normal, but he was stalling. He was not even trying to attack. Not truly. He then swung both of his blades, one above the other, from the left to the right in a sweeping arc. The odd nature of his attack was that he was swinging, aiming the flat of his blade to connect with the boy. Whether this was done for the purpose of slowing down his swing or for another reason is up to interpretation. Should the boy dodge, Komori would raise his right sword above his head and slash it in a downwards angle in the direction that the Uzumaki had dodged. If he caught it, Komori would leave his left sword connecting with the boy, while simultaneously turning his body to attack with his right sword on the boy’s other side.

WC: 1954

Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels

Re: Hitori Learns Chakra Scalpels