Friends On The Grounds

Days after achieving what Yaijōrama thought was a feat of genius, he decided to make his way back to the training grounds. His hair was wrapped up tightly in a man bun, with a green ribbon bow holding it all together. He was wearing a floral pattern green training GI, with the flowers on it being a dark brown color and brown sandals around his feet.

Yaijōrama looked around the area for a brief moment as he examined the different options when it came to waiting. There was a shady spot by a tree, but there were too many leaves on the ground so right now that wouldn't do. There was a bench near a pond, but he noticed some water on it and he didn't have a towel. There was also a tree stump that had been there, which he decided he'd take a seat on that one and wait. The weather was overall nice out, with a slight overcast which could mean rain but his nose told him otherwise, not to say it was fool proof.

Yaijōrama had invited a friend to meet with him here and so he sat and waited for them to arrive, with his legs crossed and a book in his hand. 'The Tale of the Sassy Shinobi'.

---

WC: 214 - 214

Though Yaijōrama's nose wasn't likely to fail him, his ears already had, the signaling of Maro's arrival only being the shadow that slowly loomed over the younger boy's form. The tall teenager looked incredibly out of place, his muted skin tone and blank expression- which was veiled by his dark locks- only working to make him stick out in the vibrant and joyful place. His dour presentation was offset by his clothing, his torso adorned with a faded pink sweater that looked incredibly comfortable, but worn with use, and somehow oversized for his lengthy frame. The sleeves were rolled up Maro's toned forearms, the limbs set to his side stiffly as he stared blankly down at his younger associate.

Silence lingered like a blanket over the area, the sounds of birds chipping and water flowing filling the air alone. The quiet was comfortable, though, and the blanket of silence was a warm one, oft appreciated and mighty familiar. Grass crunched softly, shifting under his boots, thick leather wraps suffocating the noise ever so slightly, as Maro moved to the shoulder of Yaijōrama. His attendance, as it had always been, was a dull one, with his lips only ever filling the air with exhales and the occasional word. This is how it had been for years. Words were not needed in the day to day of Maro's life, not when the only people he cared to talk to understood him well enough without them.

Yaijōrama understood him. Indeed, the younger adolescent had, for many years, seemed to connect with the quiet farmhand in a way many others couldn't, and where the trailblazer went, his brutish companion followed. But no, today, on these grounds, he'd actually been specifically requested. A slight pivot of his head on his neck indicated the settling of his dark lens onto his companion. Waiting for words to be spoken, no doubt, but content with simply his company.

---

WC: 320 - 320

Yaijōrama's ears indeed fail him. While Maro started to creep up behind him - Yaijōrama was lost in his own thoughts. His fingers slightly grazed the edge of the pages and started to read. Letting his imagination run while with the tales of the charismatic yet ill mannered shinobi. Though this imagery was not to last as once he heard the crunching of the dry desert grass behind him, his attention was brought back to the world. Though his outward appearance would remain the same. A clueless expression, his most natural one.

The silence the lasted was long enough for him to enjoy the sounds of nature. The chirp of the birds, the water flowing through the ponds, and his fellow shinobi practice and perform for those innocent enough to idolized the life that Yaijōrama had now taken upon himself. While he wish that thought could go on for longer, he was also very excited to show his friend what he had figured out.

"Maro!" Yaijōrama said with a gleeful tone, going to place his book roughly on the tree stump behind him. He let out a laugh, which was quickly followed up behind Yaijōrama jumping up to his feet. The sleeves of his GI rode up to show his tanned skin, due to the desert scorching sun. He went to give Maro a hug since he's too tall to clasp on the shoulder to. "You're right on time just like always. Never a moment too soon". Yaijōrama let a jovial smile spread across his face as he went to pull back dropping his arms back towards his side.

"I've something to show you." Yaijōrama went to bring his hands upwards towards about his chest. Yaijōrama had picked an area a bit further from everyone else. What he was about to do was incredible in his mind and he didn't want to get it anyone's way. Yaijōrama started to move his hands amongst each other, performing hand seals. After practicing this jutsu for a little while, he was able to do the handseals at a much faster pace. Moving at a speed of fourty. Snake, Rat, Ox, Tiger - once the last hand seal was made Yaijōrama started to shout boldly. "Mokuton: Nativity of a Sea of Trees".

Once the final word was the said, the ground started to shake some. Roots started to grow along the desert sand, trees that were green and fresh in life started to pop up from the sand around them. Each tree was very tall with them being five meters tall. They were even very thick being two meters wide. Green grass started to grow in the area as well, amongst the harsh desert soil. This was done in a wide area around them was in a twenty meter radius expanding this miniature forest.

Yaijōrama went to drop his hands and he smiled some as the forest finished growing. He was very proud of himself with this and he wanted to show it off. Once with his brother and the other with Maro.

---

WC: 509 - 723 Total

Yaijōrama Senju III Stat Sheet:

Jutsu Usage - AP tracking:

The older boy neither responded in word nor movement to Yaijōrama's greetings, and his hug. This was not unusual for him. Though he typically let people greet him however they pleased, it was rare for him to ever return the message with anything more than a nod of his head.

Maro's eyes watched with a certain stillness as the forestry took over the immediate area. His dark pupils glanced across the sandy terrain as roots crawled through the particles like sandworms, reaching up and interlacing into large and beautiful trees. The surroundings were covered in lush green, grass pressing out and crawling across the ground, taking root in the soil. His head pivoted slightly to see the growth continue on for several dozen feet in each direction. It was an impressive display of power, a complete terraform of an area into something else, a different ecosystem entirely. How would this affect the surrounding animal life, he wondered? Maro didn't truly care, but he'd always been a curious person.

When had Yaijōrama learned to do this? Who had taught him? Maro supposed he hadn't been quite as observant lately, and had missed his friend's progress. He had been distracted, lately, and it had taken his attention away from the things that mattered. His large hand raised up and placed itself upon Yaijōrama's shoulder, his head tilting at his companion to indicate a certain pride in his ability. Maro had always found the long haired boy to have a certain work ethic, a dedication to honing his existing skills and gaining new ones, that few others had. Even Maro himself, who many believed to be callously incapable of feeling pain or knowing restriction, did not work as hard as Yaijōrama did.

It was Yaijōrama, after all, who would come home from the academy and work for hours perfecting what he had learned. It was a sort of fixation on perfection that Maro suspected came from a feeling of weakness or insecurity. He himself understood it well, but a simple understanding of the source did not give himself the ability to replicate the younger boy's willpower. Maro struggled to find value in himself, and did not work to better himself simply to be a stronger person. He opted instead to better himself for others. A stronger man was a better worker, a better follower, and a better protector.

Black eyes peered into Yaijōrama's soul, analyzing him. His head tilted slightly in curiosity. Protector. Yaijōrama perhaps wanted to protect what was dear to him. Maybe the sweater-adorned teen had attributed the boy's work ethic a bit too selfishly, unintentionally. They were alike in many ways, but incredibly different all the same. It was why Maro had been drawn to his friend, who acted as his anchor and his sail, gave him command, even if he did not know he was doing so. The least he could do was play the supportive big brother in turn.

"Good work." The words came out monotone, lacking emotion or inflection, but they were sincere. Maro was proud of Yaijōrama, and the adolescent deserved to hear it, even if the elder teen hated speaking.

---

WC: 525 - 845

Yaijōrama's eyes slowly panned around the miniature forest he had created with nothing but some hand seals and his chakra. It was still something he couldn't full comprehend, while he knew that shinobi were capable of feats of greatness... His progress even this step surprised him even after practicing this jutsu multiple times since the initial sapling he sprouted.

But his eyes eventually fell on Maro, his silent friend who probably hadn't said more than a handful of words. Maro wasn't the type to speak, which was clear to Yaijōrama moments after meeting them years ago. He wasn't showing Maro for any sense of gratification but to share his own personal achievements with those he cared about. But when Maro did speak, Yaijōrama knew the words were fully meant even if there weren't many of them. His eyes grew big and his smile of pride and satisfaction only grew brighter as the two simple words crept out of Maro's mouth. ; Good work. ; Yaijōrama said back to himself and brought his hands up to rub against his ever growing rosy cheeks from his blushing.

The words meant more to him than a paragraph from most people. He had worked tirelessly for the last few nights attempting to understand his talents and how better to use them, so to be acknowledged only gave him more fuel to keep moving and pursue the goals he has laid out for himself. However long those may take, Yaijōrama knew in the back of his mind that Maro was one person - just like his brother who would be with him when he crossed that finish line.

It didn't take long for Yaijōrama to be in front of Maro, he was just beside him after all and he went to stand about two meters in front of him. His feet didn't crunch the ground like it normally did the desert sandy soil, but instead flattened the thin layer of grass that was created amongst the forest. "What have you been up to?" Yaijōrama decided to turn the attention away from what he had just done and over towards Maro. Not that he expected him to verbally answer, he could usually make a guess by whatever gesture Maro may or may not perform in response. "My guess is working out your taijutsu. Breaking open sand bags." Yaijōrama threw out a couple of jabs followed by a right hook into the air, emulating the classic art of shadow boxing. His form wasn't terrible, his father's main gimmick was Taijutsu after all. It was just something that Yaijōrama never truly excelled in it like Maro had or even his brother who was significantly better than him in close quarters.

---

WC: 452 - 1175

Yaijōrama's reaction made speaking worth it. Maro, though he could seem as an emotionless automaton to many, enjoyed helping people. He enjoyed making those he cared for feel good. He enjoyed being useful. He enjoyed this. Not that anyone could tell, with his stoic expression, his head pivoting once more to stare ahead blankly. Maro wasn't stupid. He knew very well what people thought of him and how they read his actions- or rather, his inaction. So many shinobi, and other genin, thought him dull. Often others would wave a hand in front of his eyes or snap their fingers ahead of him to see if he would react at all. He wasn't blind, nor was he catatonic. He was simply watching. Observing.

There were very few things Maro didn't notice. He noticed the way Yaijōrama's face flushed and how the boy tried to hide it, noted the way the flesh under his eyes purpled slightly with lack of sleep and exhaustion, developed through the many restless nights spent tirelessly working on his techniques. Maro could even spot the slight movements in his peripherals of others in the training grounds who noticed the commotion of the abrupt forest development. None would approach, not with Maro here. Other people their age knew too little of Maro to want to know him, but knew him well enough to never try to get to. Just under him he could see Yaijōrama moving from his side to in front of him, but his gaze didn't follow the younger boy directly, instead observing him from the edges of his vision. He was so much smaller than Maro, but Yaijōrama was exceptionally short, and Maro was exceptionally large. It gave them quite the dynamic.

'What have you been up to?'

There was no response, not even an acknowledgement of the question as Maro's head swiveled every so slightly to focus on a bird landing on one of the new trees. Surely it must be confused, wondering, astounded, where this tree came from, and what it was doing here. Or was it too simple to question it? Just happy to be alive and in the safety of a tree branch, mind far too small to torture itself with pointless questions of why and how. Maro admired it. Sometimes he too wished he was as dull as many thought he was. To be carefree and alive seemed to be the dream of many, but pursued by few. No, in the modern chaos of the world, in the vastness of humanoid intellect, it was best to fit within a rigid structure. Even animals did it, in more subtle ways. This bird ahead of him was a curve-billed thrasher. They were easy to pick out from the other birds due to their.. curved bill. They looked menacing, even. Small, little frail creatures, however, though far from the smallest of birds.

Most things were small next to Maro. Insects, next to the thrasher, seemed small too, surely. In their final moments, the last thing they would perceive would be a gargantuan bird landing upon the sand and shrubbery and snapping them up in it's beak, just as the baby thrasher looks on in curiosity at the approaching snake soon to devour it whole. There was a hierarchy, a web of predator and prey, and food chains and structure. Everyone had their own role to play. It was simply how things worked, and how they always would.

'My guess is working on your taijutsu. Breaking open sandbags.'

An exhale was all that sounded from Maro, chest compressing with the release of air he'd been holding in. A curt nod followed shortly after. It wasn't a complete lie. He had been working on his taijutsu, but he did not practice as many others did. Some would say he didn't practice at all. No, he worked all day. From when he rose, to when he went back to sleep, with little break in-between, Maro would work the farm. But yet, he was strong, and he struck fast. The towering adolescent simply believed that labor was the freedom many desired. It was a form of meditation, in a way, that focused both his mind and his body, which made him devastating to fight.

People were too focused on perfecting their one kick, their one technique, trying it over and over again, ingraining their flawed methods into their muscle memory for years to come. It was an issue Yaijōrama had, but had not realized yet. Pushing yourself to train at night, with no trainer, and no one to correct your mistakes, it reinforced your faults, like a hammer on hot metal. The smaller boy was lucky it had not severely affected him yet. Yaijōrama had incredible potential, hindered by his own anxieties, and arrogance that he had not realized yet. Maro shifted on his feet, drawing in another deep breath, several seconds after his last exhale, his breath slow and methodic, as if he was counting the seconds.

It was not his business. He was here now, and he was not training Yaijōrama, he did not have the capability to do so. It was his very own arrogance that made him feel as if he had any right to judge how Yaijōrama honed his skills, when Maro himself was decidedly less talented than the younger boy. His head pivoted upon his neck to gaze quietly at him, pondering. What was in store for today, he wondered.

---

WC: 910 - 1755

Yaijōrama watched Maro as he started to look around. The two words Yaijōrama got from him, felt like they still lingered in the air but he was pretty confident those would be the only two words he got from him through their current exchange. Not that he minded, Maro showed how he felt through different ways. Smaller and more subtle ways than boldly proclaiming your thoughts or intentions to someone. While Yaijōrama didn't know each time Maro had followed him or watched him, there were some instances he knew he was there. Almost like a hawk, watching carefully from a distance in case anything happened to their young. That was one way Maro showed his feelings, Yaijōrama found out. This was but one example that came to mind as Yaijōrama studied his friend with an aloof smile to match.

The change that Yaijōrama's jutsu had on the world around them was slowly starting to come about. As Maro already noticed some birds were starting to take perch on the thick branches but there was smaller details that with a close listen one could hear. The sounds of Cicadas started to come to life, their location always a mystery but the sound they produce is always clear. Snakes that were hiding under a cool rock, started to move about slithering as they went searching for a better location out of the lush flora that was created forcibly around them.

A small yawn broke through the sounds of nature and Yaijōrama went to place his hand over his mouth to cover it lazily. He had been training hard with little sleep, that much was clear. The light purple bags under his eyes weighed heavy, giving him a slightly withered look. His movements were a bit more sluggish than normal, but he still had the same positive energy about him.

His training methods were extreme at times for his age and he knew there were better methods to go about it, but what those methods were he didn't know. He has only done things his way for so long but he knew Maro was strong in his own right. Maybe not as skilled in ninjutsu as Yaijōrama was but Maro excelled in an area Yaijōrama knew he'd have to improve in throughout his shinobi career. There would always be times were a good punch could be useful, a kick needed to be blocked, or just when you need to chase down your opponent. While he had brought Maro here to show him this new jutsu, he was also interested in Maro's capabilities.

Yaijōrama dropped his hand from his mouth and went to take a couple more steps from Maro so they were about 4 meters apart. "Maro you're a genin too... A shinobi." Yaijōrama spoke softly, his voice light on the air. To him the weight of the title was something that meant a lot. Becoming a genin to him was no laughing matter, nothing to joke about or even take lightly; no matter how low on the shinobi ladder they were. "I've seen how you handle the farm. Carrying bags of chili peppers like they're nothing more than some pillows. You even give my Dad a challenge." Yaijōrama's father was a big man, but Maro was just as big as him at more than half the age. With Yaijōrama being a few inches shorter than most, he figured he'd never be able to strike as hard as his peers but he could hope to be faster... Until they decided to grab him by his hair, but that would be a thought for another time.

"We should train together. This is the first jutsu I've learned since graduating and I didn't even teach it to myself. I met another Hoshi shinobi. They stopped by and helped me out, you know?" Yaijōrama started to laugh a little thinking about how frustrated he was trying to read those scrolls by himself. He figured if that shinobi didn't come by and help him, then he'd still be where he was. Trying to figure out earth release and combine the two elements - water and earth into wood release. "So what do you say? We're at the training grounds. We could help each other figure out stuff. If you have anything you're trying to do." Yaijōrama didn't know what things Maro wanted to train in. He had heard of different techniques to help someone's taijutsu prowess but he didn't know the names of them. He was hoping Maro did, so Yaijōrama could help Maro get to those goals.

---

WC: 761 - 1936 Total
+10 AP for this post
+10 AP for previous post
490 AP total

Maro and Yaijōrama differed in many ways, more ways than could reasonably be listed. While Yaijōrama was a young boy, filled with hope and potential and promise, Maro was the archetypal follower, albeit a strong one with a certain aptitude for feats of strength and endurance. He was aimless in his objectives, lacking intent and desire for anything grand. In this regard, he didn't have a particular affinity for the word 'Shinobi' or 'Genin'. They didn't truly matter to him aside from boosting his capability in serving others and aiding them in fulfilling their purpose. That itself was his purpose. His visage remained stolid as Yaijōrama brought up the matter, even when the juvenile mentioned Maro's own capabilities.

Yaijōrama's boundless aspiration was carefully balance by Maro's bleak composition, who listened to  his words with a reserved hush, typical of the burly shinobi. There was a slight shuffling sound of fabric against itself as Maro physically shifted, adjusting the positions of his arms to fidget with the sleeves of his faded pink sweater. Anyone who didn't know the young man so well would have assumed he was disinterested in what was being spoken to him.

'We should train together. This is the first jutsu I've learned since graduating and I didn't even teach it to myself. I met another Hoshi shinobi. They stopped by and helped me out, you know?'

It was a good point. They should train together, it was exactly what Maro figured they both needed. It gave Yaijōrama a reason to get out of his comfort zone and break bad habits early before they settled in and became consistent. If they trained together, it'd hone both of their skills, and with how opposite in their skillsets they were, it'd be good practice should they ever be faced with someone unlike themselves in combat. Maro had, admittedly, been curious about how a fight would go if he faced someone skilled in ninjutsu and faster than he, but it wasn't exactly something he could go out and test on some unsuspecting passerby. Not without major consequence, at least. He wasn't willing to leave the city and brave the Missing Nin and criminal dens either, not yet.

'So what do you say? We're at the training grounds. We could help each other figure out stuff. If you have anything you're trying to do.'

Maro's large frame turned and looked over the rest of the training grounds, across it's sandy and cracked earth, where other genin and shinobi practiced and trained, some even sparring against each other. He drew in a deep breath, chest expanding with the heavy intake, and he held onto the air for several moments as the thought lingered in his mind. True practice, true sparring could be brutal. Holding back could reinforce ineffective tactics just as training by yourself could, albeit in a different way. When two friends fought, and one held back, it settled a false idea of their own limits and capabilities in their heads, and an uncertainty as to what they were truly capable of.

Of course, Yaijōrama wasn't exactly suggesting that the two youths brawl to near-death right there, but the opening up of the two training together would eventually lead to a spar in which they had to truly test their own abilities against each other. It was a dilemma of sorts. Did Maro want the best for Yaijōrama? What was the ultimate good thing here? Bashing in Yaijōrama's body and forcing him to spend possible days recovering, or letting him think that he had done better than he truly had and instilling a false confidence which could take him off the books forever?

Should Maro and his close friend fight, and the younger of the two genuinely win, would that also enforce a confidence that could be dangerous? Was it in Yaijōrama's best interests for Maro to beat him horribly in a spar? Maro was not a violent boy, but when done honorably, it was a chore, like any other, and he considered himself quite well at doing the chores that needed to be done, without complaint. This was too much contemplating for a simple question.

The taller of the two had been standing in silence for longer than that was usual, holding onto that single breath. Before Yaijōrama could ask if anything was wrong or move on to a different topic, he exhaled heavily, turning back to face the Senju boy decidedly. A large hand raised, clenching into a fist, and gesturing Yaijōrama forward.

Maro was stancing up. He wanted to spar.

---

WC: 761 - 2516

Yaijōrama watched Maro as he moved. The silence was going on for a while which wasn't unlike Maro but there wasn't even a move of his hand to gesture anything. ;; Moments like these make me wish I could read minds. ;; While the thought was humorous it was also true in most regard, sometimes with Maro despite how much Yaijōrama understood - there was always more to understand with Maro. Another layer that has yet to be peeled or another wall yet to be broken through. ;; Maybe I should say something again. I can just suggest we spar? Pops always said getting beaten up only helps to build you up. ;; Though before Yaijōrama could say anything, Maro made the first move.

Yaijōrama went to bring his hands up as Maro assumed his own stance. Placing his hands together, Yaijōrama formed the seal of confirmation. A gesture that a shinobi uses when they are preparing to spar or go against a comrade, someone that they respect. Right after performing the seal, Yaijōrama went to press of his right foot in a sprint towards Maro moving as fast as he could, at forty speed. His hands were behind his back as he closed the short distance between them and once he got within less than a meter of Maro - Yaijōrama brought his right hand around, attempting to connect a right hook towards Maro's body at forty speed. Though the punch was just a feint and if Maro went to block against it, Yaijōrama quickly went to jump off his left foot as he moved into a quick spin kick, his right foot trailed around his body and he went to connect it with the bottom of Maro's jaw, moving at forty speed once again.

Yaijōrama's left hand was close to his body ready to defend against a counter, though he didn't know how well that'd do him. He knew Maro was much stronger than him physically, so he hoped that he could use his speed and size to his advantage. His long hair was still wrapped up tightly in a man bun.

---

WC: 354 - 2290 Total

combat stuff:

Large hands raised to confirm the spar with the seals, but soon after dropped back to Maro's sides as he readied to fight. Maro didn't adopt any sort of fighting stance at this point, looking almost like a simpleton as he stood there dully, arms at his side, staring ahead at the much younger Yaijōrama as the boy rushed him. It was a little unsettling how statue-esque he was in the heat of the moment, not even flinching or recoiling as the feint came in at his face. Evidently, however, he did fall for it, hand lurching up last moment to grab at Yaijōrama's wrist, grasping nothing but air as the feint was seen through.

As Yaijōrama raised his leg in the high kick, he would get a glimpse at Maro's eyes, the black lens cold and unfeeling, focused not on the enemy ahead of him, but at absolutely nothing. Maro was staring at nothing in the middle of combat, gaze intensely focused on empty space. And as time seemed to slow as the foot advanced towards it's intended target, Maro's eyes.. shifted. Ever so slightly, to meet Yaijōrama's. His arm stayed in the air from his previous attempt to grapple the feint, the leg bypassing it as it approached. Even then, with his eyes set harshly on the smaller boy ahead of him, Maro moved ever so slightly, time seeming to advance rapidly as-

THUNK!

Yaijōrama's shin collided solidly with the neck and jaw of Maro, slightly tilting the taller boy to the side from the force of impact, his feet sliding apart to gain balance and upright him. The gust of wind from the quick blow blew the towering teen's hair aside, revealing his eyes, still set on his target, and with all the intent in the world to act. His arm, still upright from it's missed grapple, moving to latch down onto the leg that had hooked it's foot around his head when he shifted forward slightly. Provided he got his grip on the leg, Maro finally acted, twisting his upper body with cruel strength, going to uproot Yaijōrama from the ground and slam his side down onto the harsh earthen soil, wrenching the leg in his grasp all the while.

---

WC: 374 - 2890

Combat Information: