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A Little Bit of Recovery (Training)
2 posters
Roku <3Citizen
Ryo : 2000
A Little Bit of Recovery (Training)
Tue May 08, 2018 11:04 am
Roku woke with a start, which was less than pleasant with his lingering head wound.
But he woke up and that was a plus. There was some belief that head injuries and sleep could end in coma, but it seemed reasonable that the human brain was capable of taking care of itself through rest. The bandages he had half consciously wrapped around the gash were drenched through with his blood. For the most part, his profuse bleeding had ended, and although it likely played a part in his lightheadedness, Roku still needed to act. As he climbed into the back of the wagon to start cleaning and redressing the wound, the boy thought about what he was going to do with the day.
He needed to train more. Hurt or not, it was no choice but a necessity. Power.
The word rang through his head like the faint echoes of tribal war drums, bouncing between the mountain ranges of his skull and pounding everlasting impressions into the terrain of his mind. An awkward, crooked smile crossed the normally blank features, a feeling blossoming in his chest unlike the typical contemplative emptiness, rage, or fear. The story was just beginning, today was the day for it to get on the road.
Without thinking, he had already begun his morning routine; caring for his own wounds was not new, but dealing with wounds like the one he had freshly acquired was usually something to be avoided. It surprised him that he had cared for the wound so efficiently and already made his way back out of the wagon with a small crate of dried meat and fruit in hand. Something had changed in him, an order had fallen into place. His smile faded into an unconscious smirk as he chewed his way through another trail breakfast, and the subject of his work today slowly formed in his mind. His mother, a wonderfully inspiring woman with a heart that was too good to stay in this world. Not pure, not by a long shot, but still good…
Roku may have been his father’s spawn, from his hard stare to his monstrous nature, but he was still his mother’s son.
The boy clasped his hands together and focused on the earth before him, mouth still full of half-chewed jerky, before stretching out one hand to draw up earth with chis chakra threads. A clump rose, hardly half a foot in a semicircular shape. His head throbbed once, hard, but he tried again anyway. The hand seals may have been part of the problem; it was a jutsu he had seen used time and time and time again, but the only clear memory he had of his mother demonstrating the jutsu definitely involved more than just one. He would have to remember or figure it out. But regardless, it would take time and effort, so he could rest for a little while. He worked through his breakfast and reminisced.
A rainy morning, sprinkling water down through tight treetops like nature’s massive strainer, and thick air. His father had left, they had been followed for the past several miles and it was starting to become a close call. That was to be avoided. Roku’s mother attempted to distract him with a technique that tended to encapture the young boy’s attention easily. Sometimes, she would raise miniature clay dolls just for the sake of his amusement, but she made it a point to demonstrate the proper technique in all of its effectiveness quite regularly so as to drill it into the child’s mind. Even from such a young age, as Roku could not have possibly been older than four years old at the time, learning how to survive in the harsh world he would encounter was of the absolute utmost importance. The thought crossed his mind in the present, the concept that his parents knew of the imminence of their demise and tried to impart all of what they could to him before their misdeeds and treacherous lifestyle caught up to them. The phantom smell of copper and fire drifted through the memory, a haze settling over a once clear thought. Another memory made his head swim, starting to push through a very firmly settled mental barrier. But a little bit of introspective thought was no reason for several years of forced repression slip now, especially when there was no good reason to think about it right now.
Shaking his head helped to clean the slate and push away the stinging feeling that had started to prickle behind his eyes. Refocus. Refocus on the jutsu, the seals, the motions he would need, the manipulation of his chakra to properly handle the doll. Rat, Dog, and it ended with Tiger, he knew that for certain. But after the first two, the itty bitty ninja in training had been distracted by the actual creation of the thing. The clay doll had risen in front of him with a squelching noise, surprisingly solid given that it had been created from the mud their tentative campground had been set on for the week. The boy had clapped eagerly at the sight, a creation quite a bit larger than he was from only chakra and nearly liquid earth, with claws twice as long as his little fingers on its hands and feet. It turned to face him, a featureless face focused in his general direction stealing his laughter. Quite a thing it was, quite a scary thing. But the only feeling remotely similar to that was his mild discomfort, as fear had been bred out of him unless it was completely necessary. The memory helped fuel the development of distaste for mannequins, however, and anything without a face was somewhat unnerving to Roku. Eyes that were not eyes, soulless imprints where the windows to the soul were supposed to be, they were similar to his father’s. And his own, but at least with those, the child was aware that a feeling, a beating heart full of rage and fear and curiosity existed.
The same could not be said for the others.
Roku tried once more, throwing up a couple random ideas for what seals could fall between Dog and Tiger with no success. But the throbbing in his head had ceased, replaced by the feeling of inadequacy seated deeply and firmly in the pit of his stomach. Even without the proper technique down, should he not be capable of creating at least half the size of the construct? But obviously, this was not the case, as all he could muster already was a failed top portion. He was growing frustrated, but that only lead to harder trying and training, and the idea that he may only stop when he was rendered unconscious from the strain of his work. Instead of continuing to attempt the Clay Doll jutsu any more for the moment, Roku stood and marched to the edge of the clearing. He formed a Tiger seal with one hand, and a staff shot up from the ground a foot in front of him. Instead of choosing to actually do anything with it, he simply took a couple steps to his left and did it again. The effort started to burn inside him like he had swallowed fire; his chakra had yet to undergo the training he sought now. If it was too weak, he would burn it all up and then try again, refining his energy like one would remove the impurities from a fine metal before crafting a weapon from it. Another cane, after a moment’s reprieve, and then another. The breath in his lungs was stolen abruptly as Roku tried again, gasping for air already. It was unclear whether he was actually training his chakra or whether he may have been working on his endurance, but he did definitely need to take a break. There were four in a line, starting to circle around the clearing. Originally, the plan was to get them lined around the entire little camp, but it was abundantly clear that he would have to take a very long time to do such a thing. Painstaking. But he was going to try, at the very least. Just not too much of a difficulty to prevent repeated attempts.
He returned to the wagon, shifting a few of the crates around to reach what appeared to be a half ration reserved for the deceased Jack; he was a stingy man in life, but that was almost all there was to know about him. Tearing the shoddy plastic wrap in two, the secondary meal was postponed by a sparkle coming from the box he had kicked. A glint bounced off Roku’s shades, and he bent to pick it up with a curiosity that swiftly turned to a form of horror diluted by overexposure. It was a charm bracelet. There was a six-petaled flower, roughly made, with the word “DAD” ineptly but lovingly scratched into the flat back side. It twisted the boy’s gut if only for a moment, to think about the life he had taken and all that it entailed, and that all that was left was entrails. Another charm was actually a pendant, larger than the rest and shaped like a heart. It clicked open via a small latch near the top, and inside was a portrait of a female with a rather chubby face but a bright smile. It was a mother, a good one, and you would not be able to tell if you were not well attuned to it but Roku knew good and well those eyes and that smile, and it only ever crossed someone who had borne another life into this world and cherished it with every ounce of goodwill they possessed. She was an adult almost middle-aged, likely the former thug’s wife, and judging by her pallid tone, she was rather sick. Her optimism shone through it, but not brightly enough to conceal that she was clearly not well. This did not faze the missing ninja at all, having watched a remarkably similar face be broken down from that same awful stupid happy smile into despair and anguish. The pendant clicked shut and found its way to a pocket in the kimono, disappearing into the macabre garment like a stone in the darkness of the sea. It would be an apt memento of his life; if he could not have taken Jack’s heart, he may as well have now.
Roku rose, walking back out of the wagon and to the treeline once more, sandwich still in hand. Could have been better, plain pork and mild seasoning not too much to the boy’s tastes, but it was food and it did taste fairly good. He stared blankly ahead at his four canes, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. Or, rather, thoughtlessly, because sometimes when a person thinks for so long that they have covered every base, crossed every bridge and burnt it on the other side, there is just nothing left to think about so much as think over, and eventually even that becomes so dull that the thoughts just filter out for a time, and all that is left is the soft, tearing pork and the spicy tang that rolls down your tongue. He chuckled, a quiet noise that only lasted a second and barely pushed through the morsel he had been in the middle of consuming. It was amusing how one’s mind could wander, sometimes for days, if it were allowed. Solitude was not necessarily a bad thing, just a strange thing for the boy to deal with. Maybe it would morph him into a monster over time. Who could say?
Walking over to the four canes, leaving about a meter between himself and the center point of the semicircle, the missing ninja raised his hands and slowly weaved the requisite seals, envisioning the doll in his mind. His ability to slowly practice some jutsu amazed him; there had to be at least a few that needed to be done quite quickly, but the basic Doton techniques he had practiced all seemed as though he could at least get the practice down in a slow, methodical fashion. The doll raised as intended, head forming first very slowly and the rest of the body following like a ship being raised out of murky water. It rose, almost as tall as him and just as deadly if it were capable of independent movement. A couple blue chakra threads shot from Roku’s left hand to connect with the dummy, and he raised his right to the doll’s head level.
Roku smiled as his puppet matched the movement, its earthen claws resting against his fingertips. First step, taken.
WC: 2123
Claiming 10 Chakra and Clay Doll
But he woke up and that was a plus. There was some belief that head injuries and sleep could end in coma, but it seemed reasonable that the human brain was capable of taking care of itself through rest. The bandages he had half consciously wrapped around the gash were drenched through with his blood. For the most part, his profuse bleeding had ended, and although it likely played a part in his lightheadedness, Roku still needed to act. As he climbed into the back of the wagon to start cleaning and redressing the wound, the boy thought about what he was going to do with the day.
He needed to train more. Hurt or not, it was no choice but a necessity. Power.
The word rang through his head like the faint echoes of tribal war drums, bouncing between the mountain ranges of his skull and pounding everlasting impressions into the terrain of his mind. An awkward, crooked smile crossed the normally blank features, a feeling blossoming in his chest unlike the typical contemplative emptiness, rage, or fear. The story was just beginning, today was the day for it to get on the road.
Without thinking, he had already begun his morning routine; caring for his own wounds was not new, but dealing with wounds like the one he had freshly acquired was usually something to be avoided. It surprised him that he had cared for the wound so efficiently and already made his way back out of the wagon with a small crate of dried meat and fruit in hand. Something had changed in him, an order had fallen into place. His smile faded into an unconscious smirk as he chewed his way through another trail breakfast, and the subject of his work today slowly formed in his mind. His mother, a wonderfully inspiring woman with a heart that was too good to stay in this world. Not pure, not by a long shot, but still good…
Roku may have been his father’s spawn, from his hard stare to his monstrous nature, but he was still his mother’s son.
The boy clasped his hands together and focused on the earth before him, mouth still full of half-chewed jerky, before stretching out one hand to draw up earth with chis chakra threads. A clump rose, hardly half a foot in a semicircular shape. His head throbbed once, hard, but he tried again anyway. The hand seals may have been part of the problem; it was a jutsu he had seen used time and time and time again, but the only clear memory he had of his mother demonstrating the jutsu definitely involved more than just one. He would have to remember or figure it out. But regardless, it would take time and effort, so he could rest for a little while. He worked through his breakfast and reminisced.
A rainy morning, sprinkling water down through tight treetops like nature’s massive strainer, and thick air. His father had left, they had been followed for the past several miles and it was starting to become a close call. That was to be avoided. Roku’s mother attempted to distract him with a technique that tended to encapture the young boy’s attention easily. Sometimes, she would raise miniature clay dolls just for the sake of his amusement, but she made it a point to demonstrate the proper technique in all of its effectiveness quite regularly so as to drill it into the child’s mind. Even from such a young age, as Roku could not have possibly been older than four years old at the time, learning how to survive in the harsh world he would encounter was of the absolute utmost importance. The thought crossed his mind in the present, the concept that his parents knew of the imminence of their demise and tried to impart all of what they could to him before their misdeeds and treacherous lifestyle caught up to them. The phantom smell of copper and fire drifted through the memory, a haze settling over a once clear thought. Another memory made his head swim, starting to push through a very firmly settled mental barrier. But a little bit of introspective thought was no reason for several years of forced repression slip now, especially when there was no good reason to think about it right now.
Shaking his head helped to clean the slate and push away the stinging feeling that had started to prickle behind his eyes. Refocus. Refocus on the jutsu, the seals, the motions he would need, the manipulation of his chakra to properly handle the doll. Rat, Dog, and it ended with Tiger, he knew that for certain. But after the first two, the itty bitty ninja in training had been distracted by the actual creation of the thing. The clay doll had risen in front of him with a squelching noise, surprisingly solid given that it had been created from the mud their tentative campground had been set on for the week. The boy had clapped eagerly at the sight, a creation quite a bit larger than he was from only chakra and nearly liquid earth, with claws twice as long as his little fingers on its hands and feet. It turned to face him, a featureless face focused in his general direction stealing his laughter. Quite a thing it was, quite a scary thing. But the only feeling remotely similar to that was his mild discomfort, as fear had been bred out of him unless it was completely necessary. The memory helped fuel the development of distaste for mannequins, however, and anything without a face was somewhat unnerving to Roku. Eyes that were not eyes, soulless imprints where the windows to the soul were supposed to be, they were similar to his father’s. And his own, but at least with those, the child was aware that a feeling, a beating heart full of rage and fear and curiosity existed.
The same could not be said for the others.
Roku tried once more, throwing up a couple random ideas for what seals could fall between Dog and Tiger with no success. But the throbbing in his head had ceased, replaced by the feeling of inadequacy seated deeply and firmly in the pit of his stomach. Even without the proper technique down, should he not be capable of creating at least half the size of the construct? But obviously, this was not the case, as all he could muster already was a failed top portion. He was growing frustrated, but that only lead to harder trying and training, and the idea that he may only stop when he was rendered unconscious from the strain of his work. Instead of continuing to attempt the Clay Doll jutsu any more for the moment, Roku stood and marched to the edge of the clearing. He formed a Tiger seal with one hand, and a staff shot up from the ground a foot in front of him. Instead of choosing to actually do anything with it, he simply took a couple steps to his left and did it again. The effort started to burn inside him like he had swallowed fire; his chakra had yet to undergo the training he sought now. If it was too weak, he would burn it all up and then try again, refining his energy like one would remove the impurities from a fine metal before crafting a weapon from it. Another cane, after a moment’s reprieve, and then another. The breath in his lungs was stolen abruptly as Roku tried again, gasping for air already. It was unclear whether he was actually training his chakra or whether he may have been working on his endurance, but he did definitely need to take a break. There were four in a line, starting to circle around the clearing. Originally, the plan was to get them lined around the entire little camp, but it was abundantly clear that he would have to take a very long time to do such a thing. Painstaking. But he was going to try, at the very least. Just not too much of a difficulty to prevent repeated attempts.
He returned to the wagon, shifting a few of the crates around to reach what appeared to be a half ration reserved for the deceased Jack; he was a stingy man in life, but that was almost all there was to know about him. Tearing the shoddy plastic wrap in two, the secondary meal was postponed by a sparkle coming from the box he had kicked. A glint bounced off Roku’s shades, and he bent to pick it up with a curiosity that swiftly turned to a form of horror diluted by overexposure. It was a charm bracelet. There was a six-petaled flower, roughly made, with the word “DAD” ineptly but lovingly scratched into the flat back side. It twisted the boy’s gut if only for a moment, to think about the life he had taken and all that it entailed, and that all that was left was entrails. Another charm was actually a pendant, larger than the rest and shaped like a heart. It clicked open via a small latch near the top, and inside was a portrait of a female with a rather chubby face but a bright smile. It was a mother, a good one, and you would not be able to tell if you were not well attuned to it but Roku knew good and well those eyes and that smile, and it only ever crossed someone who had borne another life into this world and cherished it with every ounce of goodwill they possessed. She was an adult almost middle-aged, likely the former thug’s wife, and judging by her pallid tone, she was rather sick. Her optimism shone through it, but not brightly enough to conceal that she was clearly not well. This did not faze the missing ninja at all, having watched a remarkably similar face be broken down from that same awful stupid happy smile into despair and anguish. The pendant clicked shut and found its way to a pocket in the kimono, disappearing into the macabre garment like a stone in the darkness of the sea. It would be an apt memento of his life; if he could not have taken Jack’s heart, he may as well have now.
Roku rose, walking back out of the wagon and to the treeline once more, sandwich still in hand. Could have been better, plain pork and mild seasoning not too much to the boy’s tastes, but it was food and it did taste fairly good. He stared blankly ahead at his four canes, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. Or, rather, thoughtlessly, because sometimes when a person thinks for so long that they have covered every base, crossed every bridge and burnt it on the other side, there is just nothing left to think about so much as think over, and eventually even that becomes so dull that the thoughts just filter out for a time, and all that is left is the soft, tearing pork and the spicy tang that rolls down your tongue. He chuckled, a quiet noise that only lasted a second and barely pushed through the morsel he had been in the middle of consuming. It was amusing how one’s mind could wander, sometimes for days, if it were allowed. Solitude was not necessarily a bad thing, just a strange thing for the boy to deal with. Maybe it would morph him into a monster over time. Who could say?
Walking over to the four canes, leaving about a meter between himself and the center point of the semicircle, the missing ninja raised his hands and slowly weaved the requisite seals, envisioning the doll in his mind. His ability to slowly practice some jutsu amazed him; there had to be at least a few that needed to be done quite quickly, but the basic Doton techniques he had practiced all seemed as though he could at least get the practice down in a slow, methodical fashion. The doll raised as intended, head forming first very slowly and the rest of the body following like a ship being raised out of murky water. It rose, almost as tall as him and just as deadly if it were capable of independent movement. A couple blue chakra threads shot from Roku’s left hand to connect with the dummy, and he raised his right to the doll’s head level.
Roku smiled as his puppet matched the movement, its earthen claws resting against his fingertips. First step, taken.
WC: 2123
Claiming 10 Chakra and Clay Doll
KysonCitizen- Ryo : 33973
Re: A Little Bit of Recovery (Training)
Tue May 08, 2018 11:56 am
Approved my guy
- Roku <3Citizen
- Ryo : 2000
Re: A Little Bit of Recovery (Training)
Tue May 08, 2018 2:07 pm
Thank you my dude
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