Learning from a Dummy

Improvement, the thing that most shinobi want above all us who focus on their craft above all things in the world. The ability to improve as a shinobi is directly tied to their worth, someone who can improve in their world and succeed is considered by most to be a special talent of sorts. Toran had found increasingly difficult after each and every time he tried to have found a way to improve his eyes, they were considered obsolete. People didn’t want to trust him, people couldn’t trust him, he was still considered too young, too green as a shinobi. He felt it in his skin, in his bones while he strode across the main center of Hoshigakure. The slightly warm air of the late spring would be perfect for the type of training he would wish to accomplish, the only form of improvement he had left on were two things, focusing on his prowess in ninjutsu, and focusing on his prowess in the use of Taijutsu, or the physical arts of combat. He already knew how to use a sword, yet he was not walking around with one like he normally would. His hands were already sore from the prior days of working out and getting his physical stature and exercise up to par. His body, while not the tallest, was well built and lean. Perfect for a shinobi like himself. The small bits of sunlight shone brightly down in front of him, the tree’s were filled with age and memories of seeing so many others walk down these paths in search for a place of belonging. For making the training grounds feel like a home for those that wished solely for improvement. He had wished that he could have come here sooner, yet living arrangements were awkward to say the least. His parents were disturbed by what he had taken in pursuit to seemingly fit in with the rest of his peers. His mother was shocked to see her once short child having grown immediately to a striking young man. Yet what good would his body be if he could not use it for its intended purpose.

He’d hone his craft, starting in the place where his shinobi had first begun, where he had first gotten a taste of the morning cardio session that would be ahead of him. All around him were training dummies that would fight back if you hit them. Small little mechanisms that were designed to rotate after being hit. It was a perfect way to make someone want to train, to get better at using their physical bodies. They were made out of hardened wood, easily stronger than that of most steel, chakra infused wood was also something that was used for the materials. Something that wouldn’t budge even if you hit it head on. Toran felt ready to finish that practice he had started all those years ago. To be able to defeat these supposed training dummies that had constantly batted him away. No one was around to even stop him at this point from training. He’d have to make use of the time he was given in order to practice. His black iris suddenly began to redden like a pool of bright red blood. Three tomoe sprouting from out of the center and encircling the red iris. His vision was now acutely aware of the movements of his own body. Almost as if he could see things in slow motion. It was here when he would walk up towards one of the many training posts, getting into a balanced stance, his left arm slightly low, no lower than his waist, while his right arm would be much higher, his elbow bent slightly, with his hand opened out. It was here that he would begin the training process, of finally honing his taijutsu, and use it as a means of close combat fighting. The first step was of course actually getting the mechanism to function, which usually involved hitting one of the many arms that the training dummy had. Toran’s right forearm smacked the long wooden arm of the training post, as now Toran had to read the quick movements of the mechanism as he began to actually hit the wooden post with all four of his limbs. His sharingan helped with the sudden movements of the rotating mechanism. His forearms coming to hit, block, or parry the attacks aimed right towards him. Yet he mainly focused on trying to simply go faster, his arms and legs slamming against the arms every time they came near. With the mechanism beginning to ramp up in speed, Toran’s own speed would begin to quicken as well. His limbs fly to match with the incoming speed of the mechanism. Each and every hit was landing with a flourish of sounds. His forearms slamming against the wooden contraption before he felt a sudden slam to his right side, then his left as he was smacked away by the training machine. His body landed about half a meter away. His arms and legs ached with the bruises that he felt on them. He took a small breath, he’d use his legs and core to make his whole body leap right back onto his feet. The sharingan was still twirling in his eye as he could see what he had done wrong. The mechanism can seemingly change depending how hard you hit it, yet also can seemingly speed up when it wants too. It was certainly an interesting kind of device. One that would be perfect for training even more when he finally got the more basic ideas down. His body was strong, with broad shoulders and a lean build. He was a far more dexterous individual. However there was nothing more satisfying than punching someone directly in the face. To feel your knuckle grace the opponents nose before sending them flying. It's what he wanted to do, to fight with both long ranged attacks and be at a close range and not have to worry. Sure a sword could also do that, but what happens when you don’t have a sword. You’ll be useless in that regard.

Toran stared at the wooden training machine, those crimson eyes shining with focus before he rushed back in, quick as a bolt of lightning. He immediately went back into the fight, still hoping to make the machine go faster, to be able to completely and utterly block, yet this time, he’d try to block, dodge, and mostly focus on avoiding the machine… However

THUNK!

He felt his torso be slammed upon yet again by the wooden contraption. The thing was stronger than it looked. The wood wasn’t even budgeting or splintering from him punching it! These things were certainly something else. Perhaps they had advanced them right after he had tried to practice with one of the earlier versions of the contraption. Yet would this truly help him in the art of taijutsu? What would even help him at this stage in the game? Would he need someone that could teach him… There wasn’t any Uchiha in the village that would be a good practitioner of Taijutsu… And there was no way he would try and train with the gorilla of a woman that he had seen sometimes while walking near the religious section. She could probably break him in half with ease. So that was a no go…

Yet what was the problem with himself, he can hit the thing as much as he likes, practice a thousand times. Yet is there no one that can guide him… No one can truly help him in this endeavor. Yamato, Akaboshi, Enishi, Tsunayoshi, Typhon, Hotaru… He didn’t have anyone here to rely on, not even his own mother and father. His own life is right here, in his hands, with no one else that can guide him beside himself. Yet there had to be a way for him to do something, his mind wandered for the answer that was staring right at him, to continue training. To continue to grow stronger, to continue to fight as though the entire world is going to come at him in one fell swoop. That he will, and must begin to think about his own self. He couldn’t agree with isaribi, yet perhaps thinking for himself was what was needed, his own selfish desires and thoughts… They’d be put on the test again and again if he were to continue fighting and becoming a shinobi.

Toran got back up, this time he only had one thought, not to even create a fighting style, not to just make this contraption to grow faster. He wanted to beat the ever living shit out of it. To do something to make sure that he proved that he could accomplish his goal. He had to use his sharingan perfect, to link his movements. His arms rose upwards, keeping a similar stance that he had done beforehand. His body surging with strength, a new feeling covering his senses as he rushed forwards. His own thoughts focused entirely on the mechanism at hand. His fists rising upwards to land a straight jab towards the machine to get it to start, his fist landed with perfect accuracy, his sharingan reading the slow movements of the mechanism, the way it began to rotate, his eyes focused almost entirely on the sequence before he put his arm up to block the next attack, his leg slamming against the right arm, as his right arm aimed for the third one that had begun to spin. The rotation of the arms made this almost like a game, his eyes tracking the precise movements. Helping him deal with multiple attacks, he could not have his sharingan be overwhelmed in a fight. His left arm blocking the next sudden rotational swing, this time using his other leg to rise upwards to block the incoming swing from the top. His eyes continued to help him, allowing him to focus even more while weaving, ducking underneath the neck attack while smacking the lowest arms of the machine, allowing the dummy to spin to its fullest while Toran continued to go faster, his eyes still focused, still keeping track of each and every arm that was swinging towards Toran. He wondered what his team would think of him being able to do something like this, to train himself again and again. To make sure that he could read something like this. To practice something so basic, yet so crucial to a shinobi’s own survival. His forearms continued to smash against the arms that started to become faster and faster. Toran focuses more on combating the speed then outright dodging it. His legs continued to throw out small kicks that deflected the wooden arms. His skin is beginning to become sore with each bruise forming, sweat streaming down his face. His quick jabs lead to the machine continuously growing faster and faster in combat, until the machine would suddenly be faced with a straight punch right towards its center. As Toran had seemingly blasted away the dummy, sending it flying by 10 meters. The wood dummy finally has splinters flying through the sky. Toran stared back at the wooden dummy, curious as to the design of it, he’d have to ask whoever the architect was if there could be a metallic version of this for the more…. Strength based individuals. The crimson red in Toran’s eyes slowly began to fade, as his whole body felt numb from the sudden experience of dealing with that kind of in the zone behavior that he had experienced.

He sat there for a moment, curious about what he should even do, his best bet was to go and ask Akaboshi for a mission to prove that he was ready for the capability of being Chunin. However his failure to bring in Isaribi for the transfusion of their two sharingan made that out of the question. He’d have to do something immense to even be considered trusted by the village after that blunder. Yet the question constantly remained in his head of what he should do… hunting down people certainly would make his life easier… And he could begin to find out just who was the individual that had killed Hotaru… No answers in all the months that had passed, did anyone even care at all? Where was the outrage, the vigorous search for the killer? Did no one even care?!

“I’ll find the bastard… One way or another…” He thought to himself, his eyes staring back at the small amount of training he had done, yet it would take much more than that in order to get strong enough to find the bastard that had done it. He’d make sure of it, he’d find the one that had killed Hotaru Shinkou.

He’d make them pay for what they had done.

WC:2154
Bonus AP:42
Taijutsu Speciality:3000/3000 (Previous WC: Here)

Approved