Solo Topic

Was the potential monetary gains or glory worth it? The more time he spent staring at the flat tan ceiling above him the more he doubted himself. His own abilities weren't at question, as far as he could tell he was on par with his peers. What truly bugged him is that he left the farm and family behind to aspire to greater heights, and loftier goals. Certainly this line of work fulfilled him in a way tending to rice never could. Every day, even those days where he was stuck performing menial tasks, were new and usually exciting if extremely easy. Maybe adversity was what he sought, but he lacked the gall to take a risk.

A much more pervasive thought clouded his mind, as his stomach produced a ravenous noise befitting a forest dwelling predator. Wait a minute.

Then again, the farm life had Gigi's cooking. Even if all grandmother did was basic stuff, there was some magic to it that he couldn't quite capture upon attempting to cook anything himself. One foot at a time, he'd plant them firmly on the floor before standing from his bed. Okuyama shuffled over to the fridge to find himself rummaging through its contents before settling on two eggs, and a few strips of bacon. From there he shuffled on over to the stove, setting his ingredients aside in order to prepare his utensils.

First he turned the stove on, and went to retrieve a pan from the cabinet above. He placed the skillet on the burner, and went to wash his hands. This allowed the pan to heat up before putting any ingredients in. Upon returning with sanitized hands, he removed three slices of bacon from the package and laid them into the pan with great care. As soon as the raw meat touched the heated surface, a satisfying sizzle began to sing. For a while he pushed the pork strips around so they would not stick to the pan. After he decided it had been long enough, he scooped them up and flipped them over. The bottom side was a nice crispy brown, but not burnt. He scooted the bacon over to the side of the pan and retrieved his eggs. He cracked them one a time before adding them to the now grease slicked pan. With the heat had the stove set to, he allowed them to cook for sixty seconds before flipping the eggs. Unfortunately the yolk popped in one of them. He hated things being out of balance, and so he took it upon himself to pop the second egg yolk.

From there he counted another sixty seconds before removing the pan from the heat. He went on to retrieve a plate and fork, which he sould transfer his breakfast over to before consuming the meal.

Per usual, it was never as good as Gigi's.

[479 WC]

About an hour after breakfast, Okuyama found himself perusing the contents of a book that was relatively uninteresting. Then again his preferred reading usually involved the tall tales of legends long passed. Men or women whose feats surpassed reality and beat it with a stick along the way. Maybe that's what why being a shinobi initially drew him in, as most of the fables involved great beasts, long wars, shinobi, or samurai. Few of them told stories of those who worked hard for an honest pay. Back to the book; it was a book on anatomy and how chakra related to the body. Really boring stuff.

After another page he just set the book down and stood from his chair. There were no people to socialize with in his one room apartment, and socializing was what he needed. After donning his boots and securing his headband to his person, he left the estate with no real goal in mind. He had nowhere to be since he had the day off. He could hang around the training grounds for a while. Maybe Kaito or Byakura would be there, maybe not. Those individuals weren't really friends, but they were acquaintances and at the moment that was the best he had.

Upon arrival a cursory scan of the area didn't reveal a large shark or a young male. His dark eyes did happen upon a woman with jet black hair, dressed in a uniform he didn't immediately recognize. Her form appeared to lack a headband, or at least that was the excuse for his lingering gaze. She stood in the far end of the training ground, fighting ghosts with a grace he couldn't begin to think was humanly possible. His eyes were hardly able to follow the punches and kicks the woman threw into the air, and something about those movements made stomach float. What really topped it all off was when she ended the show by performing a few handseals and creating a giant wall of fire that fizzled out after a few meters. From this distance he could barely hear the cursing as the technique apparently didn't go as planned.

He decided to move on before his staring was noticed. The grounds were rather busy, with several groups of people either sparring or practicing techniques. For the first time today he took note of the weather and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, in dismay that it could still be so hot this late into the year. Okuyama moved over to an area of the training ground wherein several targets could be found. Seeing as he forgot to bring his own weapons, he began to scout the area for any that might be laying around. His searching managed to scrounge up no more than three kunai, and one shuriken. Each of these tools had appeared to be blunted by overuse. Maybe he'd polish them up later if he kept them. The tools were put into a weapon pouch attached to his thigh, and he retreated to a safe ten meter distance from the targets.

He started to count down. "One..." His hand hovered over the pouch, ready to retrieve his weapon.

"Two..." he found himself getting nervous for some reason, as if some detail was being forgotten. His heart fluttered in his throat.

"Three!" As he declared his mark, his hand swiftly entered the pouch and withdrew three kunai, which were thrown in a diagonal line from the hip to the shoulder of the target dummy.

As it turns out, putting weaponry in a pouch haphazardly was not the brightest idea. In fact, it may be the polar opposite. In a pinch when you need to withdraw one of said weapons, it is a great boon if you have them orderly and placed in a fashion that slamming your hand against them does not mean you've just impaled yourself. Some lessons needed to be learned the hard way, I suppose.

Okuyama's actions would not go through as intended. Instead his hand would be impaled by one of the kunai in his pouch, and a knee jerk reaction caused him to rip his hand from the pouch, simultaneously dislodging the weapon from his fleshy, leaking appendage. Blood was flowing down his arm in a fashion similar to a busted hose, and he could feel the life draining from him with every passing second. He clutched his wrist with his uninjured hand, before raising the wound to eye level so he could inspect the damage. A shame, it appeared. Stitches, or maybe an amputation would be required.

Upon closer inspection, the blade merely nicked his hand. A small scratch was bleeding profusely however, and most likely needed to be cleaned considering the old, worn weapon that caused the wound.
[1277 TWC]

Mid topic claims, requesting 1,242 WC towards Seigan and 6 stats

Approved