Old Bones, Fresh Hopes

Sun Sep 29, 2019 5:12 am

He felt weird walking up to the field, bathing in the orange light of the rising sun, with the new gear he had bought. He was still getting used to the added weight, actually, the weapon pouches at the back of the belt, the gear within tightly packed and organized. The explosive tags actually worried him, he never walked around with explosives. But the sharp objects at his hip didn’t worry him in the least; as a chef, he was used to sharp objects. As a matter of fact, he worshipped sharp objects, knives most of all. And now, he had his first tanto; half sword, half knife, although truth be told, he felt a little frightened by it: it was sharper than any knife he had ever held. However it was a slick companion, hanging neatly at his belt, held by the traditional wrapping as the samurai of hold, even though the actual handle wasn’t very traditional in as far as katanas went. Instead, the handle blended perfectly into the scabbard, all of it supple wood dyed black.

Now in the middle of the field he actually felt silly instead of weird. ‘What am I doing…” he though exasperated. The thought of his age aligned with his lack of experience once again reared their ugly heads into the field of his confidence. A bloody chunnin half his age could intimidate him with a stare. He still wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing.

Half of the art of the sword was in the draw. He had yet to draw his tanto from the scabbard. “A weapon shouldn’t be drawn without reason, after all.” He grabbed the scabbard carefully, respectfully. It was curving downwards, indicating the blade of the tanto was upwards. With his right hand, he approached the handle of the tanto, applying pressure consistently so as to draw the blade off the scabbard. The edge gleamed in the sunlight as it was drawn, and Kaito brought it to eye level to admire the craftsmanship of the blade itself. As a chef, he could tell good steel from bad steel, and a reliable knife from a cheap one. The tanto met Kaito’s need for a professionally crafted blade, but it wasn’t something to write home about. “Not that there’s anyone back home to read about it.”

He raised his arm and swung downwards, a swish sound cutting through the air in pursuit of the tanto in testament to the sharpness of the blade, but also a testament to the strength of the swinger. He repeated the gesture, cutting the horizon at chest level, another woosh cutting after the blade’s edge. He gazed at the blade again, admiring the way the metals danced along the ridge. He was glad the Kumogakure shop wouldn’t sell bad materials to their ninja. After all, when they went out there, the destiny of the village could be in the hands of its ninja, and the tools they relied on. He took the back of the blade to the scabbard, led it carefully along the slot of the scabbard, then slid the tanto carefully, respectfully, ritualistically.

Fables of samurai spoke of how they were able to determine their opponents would die even before they drew their weapons, and once they did, their first swing was also their last.

Battojutsu: Quickdraw

Kaito took a deep breath. The skies were blue, the sun climbing upwards sluggishly. He dragged his left foot backwards, holding for stability. He pushed his right foot forwards, lowering his center of gravity, becoming more grounded. His left hand gripped the scabbard and guided the angle he wished to draw the blade into, in order to draw in a diagonal arc in front of him, as if to cut open the chest or gut of an opponent in front of him. He whipped his right arm to free the cloth so as to not disturb him in the next motion, and grabbed the hilt of the tanto, his fingers folding and gripping the supple wood one at a time. He visualized the arc he wished to perform; it needed to be an elliptical arc, to account for the twist of the wrist in the further reach of the swing. He exhaled.

SWISH.

The sound came out as the tanto exited the scabbard, but no sound cut through the air, as the motion was awkward and the wrist movement all wrong. “I’m not trying to slice tomatoes, I’m trying to cut open a human.” He brought the back of the blade back to the opening of the scabbard, sheathed, inhaled calmly, and exhaled sharply. SWISH.

It was better, but far from functional. At best he’d rip open the clothes or scratch some piece of armor with such a draw. Patience, young genin. He brought the back of the tanto to the scabbard’s opening again, slid it downward before reversing the motion and sliding it into the opening. He took a deep breath, and tried visualizing how he wanted the slicing motion to look like, where an opponent would be, and how it would interact with said opponent. Of course, under such circumstances, an opponent wouldn’t let Kaito just fall into a focused posture: an attack would have to be made suddenly, by surprise. As such, Kaito broke the posture and stood straight, hopped twice on his spot, and broke into a little run in a circle around the field.

As he ran, he started to pace down, taking his steps into a walk, until he noticed he was about to come to where he had just stood, evident by the two drag marks of his feet. As he stood where he was before, time slowed down as Kaito visualized the imaginary enemy in the same position he had been before, intimidating Kaito into submission. However, Kaito was a natural killer, and feigned disinterest in the imaginary opponent, before raising his hand to the tanto’s handle and swiftly cutting it through the air. The motion was so fluid it almost tried to take his arm away and into the distance, but alas, only Kaito stood now, the imaginary opponent lay on the ground with a neck wound gushing imaginary blood. “I need a katana to properly behead someone.”

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TWC: 1041 Words
Claiming: 5 Speed + Battojutsu: Quickdraw

Sun Sep 29, 2019 5:15 am

Approved.

Old Bones, Fresh Hopes

Old Bones, Fresh Hopes

Re: Old Bones, Fresh Hopes