Up and coming (open)

Everyone always tells you the one universal truth: The wheel of time keeps turning.

What they didn't tell you was it was a wheel because it seems to always bring you around in a circle, right back to where you were before. In Hayates case he found himself in the field adjacent the academy. The same place he had been teaching a class right before the war on Suna broke out.

The air had the particular clear quality that always followed a heavy rain, and the ground and walls were still slick. That foreboding, dark storm seemed like it had been summoned by fate to accompany the meeting earlier that day about the future of the kageship, and had left after that cursed meeting. It neither the storm nor the meeting left Hayate in the best mood.

Now, though, he had to focus. The administration had been keeping the people who returned from the war rather busy, he supposed to stifle rumors as much as to overcompensate for the sudden lack of leadership. He had been reassigned the same task as before he went to war, to train members of the newest Kiri generation for hand to hand combat. As the period of conflict stretched on from Kiri to Suna, the constant erosion of war thinned the village, and now even the earliest ninja couldn't take their time with their first steps, they had to be deadly from day one.

Last time he had been rather... not nervous, no, not hayate, but maybe overthought his first leadership position. That wouldn't be the case this time.

The athletic 5'7" 16 year old stood under that same tree, the one he had sparred Kether under, planned missions with asami under, held his last class under. He had a feeling it would outlast him like it did all his relationships. He had ditched the facemask, but still had the same unruly dirty blonde hair falling over his headband, and the tight combat shirt under a swordsmans vest. A kiri emblem on a blue belt secured the sword that hung behind him, and the black tactical pants had his ninja pouch secured over one leg. He stood still, arms crossed, and waited.

(Open to all genin, Acad students that are especially good/focused on melee, and chuunin+with poor hand to hand skills that would have been assigned more training)

Rajiasu grumbled at the alarm. He stuffed his face back under the pillow, and vainly tried to drown out its incessant blaring. Giving up, he silenced the alarm with a slap to its top. He rolled out of bed, quite literally, and wound up on the floor.

No movement ensued for about a minute, before he slowly got to his feet. Today, he clearly got out of bed on the wrong side. His reflection was the human equivalent of a wet cat. His short black hair stubbornly refused to bend to the comb, so he drenched his upper body in lukewarm water. His routine paused suddenly, as an error appeared in his morning code.

Out of towels. Damnit.

He stomped out of the bathroom and partially dried himself on an old shirt. He should be training now. Adjusting to the serious ninja life was rough, but it wasn't going to get any easier by laying around. He threw on some black pants and combat boots. He stuffed a sandwich in his mouth, and stumbled out into the street. The door slammed shut behind him, the lock clicking into place automatically. He set off down the street. His appearance was still unkempt, but mildly presentable. At least he looked like a broke student, not a bum. His footsteps took him past the academy. No longer a student within its walls, for the first time.

It had rained recently. He nearly slipped in a puddle, splashing a dark half-oval onto the side of one pant leg. He splashed his way down the street, his boots keeping him mostly dry. To the casual observer, he looked like a large guy lumbering down the city lane. Perhaps a slightly suspicious character. To the discerning eye of anyone trained in the physical arts, Rajiasu looked a little different. He was clomping down the street in a slightly off-beat gait. His movements lacked a clear coordination and fluidity, and his flesh lacked the firmness of a trained physique. He lacked the usual muscle of someone his size and girth, especially in a village of warriors. Ultimately, his soft civilian background was quite obvious.

He ambled into the field near the academy, passing a lean teenage fighter with messy blondish hair. Perhaps the sky would become overcast again. That was his favorite weather to exercise in; he tended to overheat whenever he tried to kick his mass into shape. He silently finished his trek, stopping in a clearing about a third of the way into the field.

Rajiasu checked around for trees to use. The terrain tended to change a lot, what with all the warriors carving up the earth and terraforming the surroundings. He had quickly learned to test his above-average weight before committing to an exercise. A few nasty falls had quickly reinforced that habit. There were a couple of trees that looked relatively strong.

He clumsily began climbing the nearest tree that appeared ready to support him. The leaves rustled in the wind as he slowly progressed up the trunk. A quick prayer and a small leap, then he was swinging feet first under the thickest branch, his hands struggling to maintain their grip ten feet off the ground. He slowly absorbed his momentum from his body into his swings, dissipating the energy awkwardly. When his body was mostly still, he began trying to lift into a pull-up.

He managed a 25 degree bend in his arms, but was stuck. He resisted the urge to kick his legs or swing his body - that wouldn't make his arms any stronger. Sweat began to trickle down his body as he remained stuck. Eventually, his grip strength ran out, and Rajiasu plummeted to the ground, landing awkwardly. He shakily got to his hands and knees, and took deep breaths. His cheeks burned crimson from both exertion and embarrassment about his physical weakness. Higher than a few days ago, but that didn't mean a lot.

All told, he struggled to do the pull-up for a good minute. He glanced upwards, and saw the lean guy against the tree again. This time, he wasn't preoccupied, and he noticed the fellow's build and equipment. A lean looking dude with weapons and tight, practical clothing for combat. Well. He didn't even goof up in front of a random chap, this was probably someone important.

Rajiasu wanted to ask for advice, but he didn't think he could go over empty handed. Kirigakure warriors were pretty hard-core, it wasn't wise to look weak or undetermined in front of them. His head whipped back and forth, trying to clear the fog of tiredness. A big breath, and then he was in a stance: legs bent at a right angle, his arms crossed in front of him, elbows pointing outward. This was more his jam. His legs had to support his bodyweight all the time, unlike his arms. He decided to hold his squat until his legs literally collapsed.

As much as he wanted to ask the other fellow for training advice, he wanted to put in his maximum effort first. If the clearly stronger fellow decided it was worthwhile to help Rajiasu, then he would decide on his own. Rajiasu didn't want to force the issue. His breath started to grow ragged as he squatted. He mostly stared ahead, occasionally glancing to the tree to see if the fit fellow approached.

Belatedly, he realized he forgot his water. He swore, but under his breath. He was sweating a lot, and he needed minimize water wastage on speech.

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(The part other people would see: Walking down the street while looking uncoordinated > Passes Hayate > tries and fails to do a pull-up > decides to train his legs instead > hopes to attract Hayate's attention in a good way.

Let me know if you think I should edit something for clarity or approach. Rajiasu isn't socially comfortable, hence the indirect approach later on.)

Tsubasa coughed.

The young man was currently sat atop a ramen shop within the village of Kirigakure, taking long, quick drags from his first cigarette ever. Tsubasa was aware of the health risks associated with the activity, but after a day of dealing with annoying shinobi and their issues, he didn't care. Even if he hadn't been dealing with the stresses that came with becoming an actual shinobi, the young man had never been one to follow rules; it was honestly only a matter of time before he fell into the bad habit on his own. So there he sat, smoking a cigarette, ashing it occasionally as he felt the buzz set in stronger than he was expecting. "Oh lord." Tsubasa had been expecting the effects of the substance to be mild, as people who smoked often seemed fine, but he wasn't ready. Especially with how quickly he had been smoking, the boy was doomed from the start.

His stomach was becoming more irritated by the second, and there was a certain heaviness to his head that only served to make him feel more nauseous. Tsubasa was beginning to realize that he had a serious problem, his cool image was being challenged by one cruel fact, he was going to throw up. The boy knew better than anyone that throwing up after smoking a cigarette would damage his image, but there was nothing more that could be done. Looking around, watching for anyone who might notice his embarrassing situation, he noticed no one near either the ramen shop or the academy training field directly to the right of the ramen shop. Believing himself to be safe, Tsubasa turned his head down towards the ground directly in front of the ramen shop and emptied his guts in a fashion that would've been directly visible to anyone in the seemingly empty training field. 

Feeling much better after vomiting, Tsubasa’d lie on top of the Ramen shop for a short while, sure that no one would’ve seen his disgusting actions. In his mind, there was almost no chance that even with only 15 meters of distance between himself and the closest of the trees that marked the perimeter of the Academy’s training field. The young boy took his time of solitude to rest lightly, staying aware of his surroundings but not so wary that he took any particular note of his fellow shinobi’s actions; even if he was aware of the other 3 presences, any information other than their entrances just after he began to vomit and their general locations would have been lost on him.

Brown eyes watched through the wispy tips of hair that just entered the top of Hayates vision as a big guy entered the field.  He projected a large and intimidating image, but didn't carry himself like someone who knew how to fight.  In Hayate's mind he seemed one of those street toughs you see in the movies, where regular people would cross the street or be intimidated when he confronted them or shook them down for money, but the hero would comically wipe them out with one punch, revealing the facade.

Luckily, no hero needed to wipe this facade.  Hayate took out a small clipboard roughly the size of his hand to flip through and watched out of the side of his eye as the newcomer passed him and took to the tree.  The branch didn't bend near enough for him to have enough training weights to make a pullup difficult, and the stance was basic at best, but better.  

A younger face, partially hidden behind bandages, openly studied Hayate and the active genin as it approached.  Seeming curious but not overly so, the figure simply greeted the two, to which Hayate would respond with one casual wave of the hand while still pretending to be engrossed in the clipboard, clearly not up for more converastion.  He'd really rather not get involved before hand, it made the task at hand more awkward.  Hayate was not a born leader and had only done this once before.  At least the older one seemed to be pretty new, and the other was younger.  They list of those eligible he had had the picture and name of both under genin.

The distinct sound of someone retching in a nearby alley caught his attention for a second, but it wasnt a drunk, just seemingly someone who had too much ramen from the store they were leaning against.  Probably some kid that overspent his allowance, not worthy of too much note, as the fellow seemed to finish and shift out of sight again.

His watch showed two minutes past.  No time like the present.  He tucked the mini clipboard back into a pouch.  He just had to seem authoritative, right?  Thats just talking tough, he could do that.  Right?  Breath in.  Exhale.  Lets do this.

"Alright.  I assume as you're both here and on the eligible list, you're both here for hand to hand training.  I'm Hayate of the Seiteki clan, and I'll be handling that.  For the record I don't particularly care if you're here to get good or to get excused from a mission or other obligation for the day, they just asked me to make those that show up better at fighting.  I complete my missions. I may not be the picture of who you expected, but if you really want to be trained by someone more senior, you can simply prove that your skills are worth it, and I'll help see that it happens."

He glanced the two up and down.  He meant it, but didn't particularly think it would be an issue this time around.

"We will be full contact, but try not to permanently injure or kill anyone.  I'll attempt the same.  I've got blunted kunai and shuriken here" Hayate took out a small sack from his leg pouch and upended it, letting a few of each fall to the ground to the right of his feet with dull thuds as they hit the earth, the hard, dense rubber not really giving or bouncing at all as they hit, but also not creating the clang one would expect of metal. "If and when you feel the need to use a weapon against an actual person, and we're sticking to basic jutsu.  Punch harder, run faster, perhaps a a clone, but no fireballs or genjutsu or ice shards.".  At the last few words the fingers on Hayate's left hand flexed one by one in a wave once, like a wild west gunfighter might do while hovering over his holster before a draw.  The soreness from where the yukis blade had bit briefly flared up, but went away as quickly when he did the exercise.


"I've got your names on the sheet, but why dont you introduce yourselves and get anything you need to out of the way before we start"

Damn. He didn't expect peace and quiet, but there was an extra fellow to witness Rajiasu's self-inflicted humiliation. Thank god the fourth guy (Tsubasa) was retching and puking out of sight. He hadn't heard the other guy moving around, so he might have been present all this time. It was unclear to the novice, at least, he could only assume it was a village drunk, too little perception to see any tiny trails of smoke to draw another conclusion. Who else would be likely to throw up at this time of day, after all?

The third person, the one who arrived after Raijasu, had the guts and social skills to directly approach the lad under the tree. By that time, his knees were visibly shaking from exertion, his cheeks had reddened, and air was blasting in and out of his nostrils. Sweat dripped down his forehead. And he had only been here for a minute or so. What a glorious training session in store, for our young weakling. And he wasn't going to run either. Running of the metaphysical kind had landed him where he was, and there was nowhere else to go. Focus would be essential.

Rajiasu's legs fully buckled beneath him, as if to punctuate the greeting initially uttered by the third ninja to arrive (Kazushi). It was an almost comedic timing, though the weakness it signified was anything but. His body landed hard on the ground with an audible thump, ankles folded back almost to his hips, head spinning from tiredness and approaching dehydration. He lay there for a second, almost reveling in the feeling of muscle burn.

Ahhh... Weakness leaving the body. Where was the hospital again?

If he kept grinding at it, not letting himself sit too still, he could fight off the perpetual lazyness that threatened to engulf him at all times. His relaxation could almost be an extreme sport.

A voice floated over on the wind, distinctly different from the first one that spoke. Rajiasu craned his head forward, peering over his wheezing chest, to see the first chap speaking from his place below the tree. Wait. Hold up a second. As Hayate spoke, introducing himself and the reason he was present, Rajiasu's eyes zoomed in on one extremely important detail.

A clip board.

Rajiasu belatedly realized he had walked straight into some sort of organized training session, when he really just wanted to be weak by himself, to assuage his ego. Nothing for it, it would be harder to leave than to stay, and he really needed the training. He could mope later in his room, where public opinion didn't matter. He straightened his legs and tried to get up, but was visibly tired from his brief exertions. A body roll and a pushup brought him to his feet, with some sweat clearly marking his resting place. He turned back to face the others, walking towards them as Hayate continued to speak.

Hayate didn't mention his rank. Which meant either he was low, or didn't think it mattered for the purposes. Rajiasu wasn't sure, but it didn't really matter. At this point, any trained ninja had plenty to teach. Matter of fact was the way to go though. Not rude, maybe a little cold, but that was easier for a socially inept doofus to handle. He might have seriously considered hiding if the trainer was the sassy and outgoing type.

His eyes shifted to the falling, then bouncing weapons. The lack of clanging was a very, very pleasant surprise. He almost missed Hayate's flexing fingers, which unnerved him.

Hope this guy has been having a good day. Not that I would be able to tell.

He paused before speaking, making sure the trainer was done his part. Anxiety flooded his face at first, but shifted to relief at the mention of errands.

".... Rajiasu Yuki. Didn't realize there was a training session... but ... I need all the practice I can get."


The words caught in his throat repeatedly. He tried to hide it, but it would have been obvious to the typical civilian. He started to run to the nearest convenience store, but realized he hadn't spoken directly to the other trainee.

"Uh - good to meet you too."

He would wait for the other trainee to introduce himself, before fully sprinting to the nearest convenience center (at a grand speed of 10). He would return with a shopping bag full of water bottles. Normally, Rajiasu would have reused a large bottle by itself, but today he had forgotten his favorite drinking vessel. Today, he'd make do. No excuses. They could pile up far too quickly.

The bag of water bottles was carefully deposited in the shade of the tree, nestled out of the way.

"Thanks.... I got extras." Hopefully he didn't have to explain it. Because the conversation already made him visibly uncomfortable, and he wanted to avoid extra talking until he was "ready".

One of the bottles was left outside the bag already, missing a significant portion of its clear contents. He bent his arms and pulled his elbows out to the side and up, opening his lungs. His breathing gradually slowed.

"Wait, are we fighting you, Hayate? Or are we fighting eachother?"

As Tsubasa continued to lie down on the roof of the ramen shop, he felt himself become overcome with boredom. The young lad wondered to himself what could be done to relieve his boredom, before remembering the people in the training field in the distance. Grinning slightly, Tsubasa decided that the poor souls in the field would have to shoulder the burden of being Tsubasa's entertainment. Hopping to his feet, he took off in their direction, taking care to be as difficult to detect as possible. Traveling didn't take long and Tsubasa was directly above the group on a tree branch by the time the chunin was at the end of his opening statement. 'A training session?' Tsubasa thought, 'Interesting'

He continued to listen and by the time Rajaisu asked his big question, Tsubasa's grin was as wide as possible. The idea of intruding on these guys' training session was almost too much fun for him to contain himself. Whether the chunin chose the latter option or the former, Tsubasa would likely interrupt by challenging the chunin. If what he said was true and the other genin were truly the bottom of the barrel when it came to combat, then they wouldn't be much fun for the challenge seeking boy. The chunin would likely be interesting though, as he hadn't sparred with anyone of a higher rank since he became a shinobi. 

It wasn't time though, so Tsubasa squatted down on the branch he had been standing on and listened closely. He would listen further and wait for the sparring to begin.

WC: 262

As the trail of dust from Rajiasu taking off faded, Hayate turned to glance at Kazushi, who seemed just as confused.

".... I MEANT anything you needed to VERBALLY get out of the way...." he muttered under his breath.  Oh well.

A Yuki and a Terumi.  Asami and Nero.  Fate was determined to forcibly shove the past right back at him.

The Yuki came back, with a pile of waters.  One of those all heart guys, eh?

"Well I'm not certain you're ready to FIGHT anyone.   I suppose we'll have to see where you are, to see where you need to go next, right?"  A note of friendly ribbing crept back in to his voice where it used to be a while ago, at the earnestness of Rajiasu, he couldn't help it.  Kazushi had been more what he'd been blindly expecting, but he supposed he shouldnt have.  This was him not too long ago, wasn't it?

Hayates hands collapsed into the familiar tiger seal.  "I've got your names, Rajiasu and Kazushi, but for now" He looked at the smaller of the two, bandaged up  "you are 1" then at the larger  "and you are two.  Since you're ready" water seemed to pull outward from hayates skin on either side, multiplying in size and thickening into two other Hayates, who each took a step forward.  "land a blow on a Hayate, and we'll go from there."

The Hayate in front of 1(Kazushi) stood up straight, legs together, forming and holding his own tiger seal.  The Hayate in front of 2(Rajiasu) shifted his feet to a combat stance, his left foot and hand sliding forward, palm up, his right foot sliding back, right hand in a fist near his waist, elbow tucked back tight against his side.

(40 ap for 2 water clones, 507 left)

He wasn't sure if he was more stressed about inclusion on the list, or the prospect of fighting the trainer.

*Gulp*

Nervousness was etched into his face, he didn't even think to hide it.

Two.

Hayate formed a handseal and Rajiasu instantly panicked. A novice and an unknown quantity against a trainer who would use jutsu...? It subsided when he realized he was fighting a clone instead. Partially. He was pretty sure the clone would be stronger, purely on circumstance. At least clones were generally easier to defeat than their propagators.

The water clone shifted to a combat stance, rather than charging. So he was supposed to make the first move. This would have been easy if he was the impulsive type. Or if he had combat experience. Instead, he was a self aware novice, trying to come up with a plan. Set-up for success, right?

(Everything from here on out is unless stopped)

Rajiasu would first imitate the water clone, from his position (we'll say, 3m away?). His own left hand and foot would advance, his right arm tucked in, ready to counterpunch and right foot back. A large frown of concentration took over his face, making it clear he wasn't just stalling. Limbs moved experimentally as he tried to figure out the limitations of the position. Not that it mattered if the clone shifted before he tried to hit it. But better than nothing.

In 20 seconds of trying the same combat stance, all he learned was that he was clumsy. Having one arm out almost straight felt really weird to him. He would ask later. For now....

Rajiasu sighed, a sad little sound barely audible to those nearby. His look of concentration remained as he returned to a normal standing position.

Nothing for it.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Uncharacteristic of him to shout, much less attempt a battlecry, but he needed something to help propel him forward. His legs were one scary attack from shaking like leaves in a storm. He accelerated as fast as he could. He was sure the trainer could see, but maybe his shift in attitude could take the clone by surprise. Since his goal was to hit the clone at all, rather than deal a knockout blow, he figured it was better to aim for the larger target.

His body was on track for a head-on collision with the opponent water clone, it was unlikely he could adjust his pathing given his lack of agility. His right hand outstretched to try to grab the water clones right hand, and if allowed, would pull the clone's hand to the side and away towards his hip. At the same time, his left hand would swing, aiming to hit the other clone in the chest.

If he missed without getting a returning shot, he would probably stumble past for several meters, flailing and trying to regain control of his momentum.