Because of the nature of the restaurant business, family dinners were rare in Jirou’s household. Generally, Jirou, his mother, and his two siblings would either fix themselves something simple at home, or go over to Scallop and Nabe themselves. Tonight, however, Denki had left the restaurant with some of his employees, and was instead applying his culinary talents to a family dinner. For such a large man wielding a chef's knife the size of a machete, he was capable of remarkably fine movements; he made short work of several large onions, turning them into perfect, tiny cubes only a few millimeters in length before transferring them to a pan to fry. Jirou’s sister Mei was at his side, preparing rice and grinding the meat that would go into their hamburger steaks.
In the next room over, Jirou’s mother and elder brother were sitting around a table chatting. Mostly, they were sharing stories that had happened at the factory that day: who had dropped what inopportunely, which places they were courting new production contracts from, and so on.
“I think we could use a drink,” Kyoka said, standing up and walking to the kitchen.
As she entered, Jirou’s mother took her bright red hair out of the bun it had been in all day. She squeezed past her husband, giving him a little slap on the rear as she went by. It elicited a laugh and a growl from him and a groan from Mei, who rolled her eyes theatrically.
“Don’t you act all high and mighty young lady! I know you’re thinking about some lucky boy who you’d like to put your hands on like that,” Kyoka announced loud enough for the whole house to hear as she reached over and grabbed a bottle of sake and a few glasses. “Sake, honey?”
"Ew ew ew ew ew ewwwwwwwww," Mei whined in disgust. "Mo-om!"
“Yes dear,” Genki managed to get out over Mei’s loud objections in response to her mother’s remark.
Kyoko poured some sake into a cup, which, while a small cup by Kisama standards, would have passed for a regular sized teacup in any other context. She placed the cup beside the stove and gave Genki a kiss on the cheek before heading back into the living room. She placed three more glasses down on the table where Tetsuo, Jirou’s elder brother, was seated, skimming over a newspaper. She filled the three cups, set the bottle back down on the table, and picked two of them back up.
“That one’s yours,” she said, gesturing to the remaining cup with her elbow. “I’ll be right back.”
Kyoko walked out into the house’s modest courtyard. Jirou had been there since getting home, practicing his swordwork. Kyoko waited a moment, watching him.
Jirou was imagining several enemies coming at him at once with swords. As they charged, he relaxed his body. When the first one swung his sword, Jirou stepped to the side, then fell into a squat to avoid another blade. As he stood, Jirou swung his sword into a backhand grip and spun around, skewering one of his foes on his wooden sword. Someone raised his sword, but before he could bring it down, Jirou unleashed a powerful push kick, sending the man backwards before turning to parry a blow.
When he turned, he saw his mother looking at him, a cup in each hand.
“I have some sake if you want to add some Oudouchi to your repertoire,” she said with a smile. “Although I don’t know why you keep this up. There’s better money to be made elsewhere.”
Jirou dropped his bokken and walked over to Kyoko.
“There’s money to be made in it,” Jirou pouted, taking a cup. “Samurai get paid.”
Kyoko laughed.
“With the money I make off of one precision part, I could buy a dozen soldiers,” she countered.
“Or I could go around and, I don’t know, teach Toryu.”
“Xincha is full of ‘master’ swordsmen who will teach anyone and still have to come begging to your father for food.”
Jirou groaned, and Kyoka put her hand on his shoulder.
“Listen Jirou, I know you don’t like the family businesses, but there’s something out there for you. I just don’t want you throwing your life away on some battlefield for nothing because you didn’t figure it out right away. You’ll always have a roof over your head and a warm meal here. That’s more than I had when you were born. Just stick with what you’re doing now, talk to people, ask around, and the right opportunity will jump out at you. I just know it.”
Jirou scrunched up his face at his mother’s lecture as he took a sip of sake.
“But this is what I want to do!”
“Jirou, you don’t remember, but your father and I suffered through the Great War. Soldiering is not a good life. It's dangerous, and someone is always telling you what to do."
“Sounds a whole lot like my life now! ” Jirou shouted. "You and dad are always telling me what to do. At work and, just, with my life."
"People becoming goddamn soldiers is why you don’t have any grandparents or aunts or uncles. All it does is take and take from you until one day you die on a goddamn battlefield all alone!” Kyoko didn’t realize it but she was shouting now. Shouting and tearing up.
Jirou had no response to that. He just crossed his arms and looked at his feet.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” Kyoko said, wiping her eyes with her finger. “You can keep training until then.”
She walked back inside. Jirou shouted indistinctly, and reached down for his dropped sword.
WC: 952
When the Boys are on Parade [Lonely]
When the Boys are on Parade [Lonely]
| Akito Hyuuga | Konoha | Jounin | #008080 |
|
Jirou Kisama | Heart Empire | Akibushi | #BF4000 |
|
Hanzou Fukusha | Iwa | Genin | #800080 |
When the Boys are on Parade [Lonely]
Every day seemed to bring some new rumors of war. Iwa and Suna had been in conflict for some time, and Konoha had gotten involved as well, losing their Hokage early in the fighting. When it was just Iwa and Suna, it was easy enough to ignore: two villages – two lands at war far away, but lending a trickle of refugees into the Heart Empire. Then, Konoha declared war on Iwa to stop their expansion, and the trickle increased to a flow.
The next domino to fall was the Crescent Coalition declaring war on Konoha. When that news reached Xincha, the buzz of the news was inescapable. From the time that Jirou awoke that morning it was all he heard about.
“Good morning Jirou. Big news today: looks like the Crescent have declared war on Konoha. It’s all over the news,” his older brother Tetsuo told him when he got up.
“Good news for the factory though! War is big business,” his mother called out from another room.
After a quick breakfast, Jirou and his father walked over to the Scallop and Nabe and opened the place up. As customers started to filter in, war chatter was inescapable.
“This is going to mean a ton more refugees.”
“I hope we don’t get involved.”
“Heart is supposed to be neutral, but you never know.”
“With all the refugees pouring in, I hear there’s been a huge uptick in banditry, especially near the borders.”
As Jirou overheard all of this, just one thought filled his mind: this was the time to enlist. He had told his mother that he would wait “a year or two.” It had been a year, and this was the time. Even if the Heart Empire stayed neutral, as it intended to, there would be plenty of opportunities to fight bandits and guard the borders. And if any other country dared attack Heart, they would feel the wrath of Jirou.
“Jirou! Stop standing around! We got customers!” his father shouted from the kitchen.
That shook Jirou from his fantasy of striding through the battlefield, arrows falling all around him. Still, as he went to greet the new customers, he began to hatch a plan.
The next day was one of his few days off. Jirou arose quietly, just before sunrise, and got ready. He had set out clothes the evening before to minimize noise: a tight black t-shirt, baggy gray pants that cinched at the ankles, a deep green fatigue jacket, and the wooden dog tags which were given to him when he graduated from the academy. He had set aside boots and his sword as well, but didn’t don them quite yet, so as not to hamper his sneaking. Jirou scampered quietly to the kitchen, sneaking a small jug of sake into his pouch before heading to the door. When he had cleared the front door, he hastily shoved his feet into his boots and ran off. Once safely out of view of the house where he had grown up, he finally paused to tie his boots and fasten his sword to his hip.
As the sun rose on Xincha, Jirou walked through the awakening city with all the swagger of a high-ranking samurai, nodding to the fishmongers and bakers opening up their stalls. When he arrived at the mustering ground, soldiers were beginning to filter in. It was a mixture of recent academy graduates, just inducted as full-fledged samurai, and older soldiers supervising their training.
“Hey Kisama, what are you doing here?”
Jirou turned around to see a group of boys who were in his year in the academy.
“Hey Yuta,” Jirou said to the boy who had called him. “I’m gonna join up!”
“I thought your mommy wouldn’t let you!” Yuta mocked.
Jirou gritted his teeth as the group laughed at him.
“I’m gonna kick your ass Yuta!” Jirou hollered.
“Oooh, I’m swoooo scwawed,” Yuta replied, making himself sound like a baby. “Wittle baby Jiwou is gonna kick my ass.”
Yuta grinned and reached for his sword. “Bet you couldn’t even land a scratch on me.”
Jirou started to reach for his sword, but was interrupted by someone shouting behind him.
“What is your major malfunction Hayasaka?”
Yuta’s hand flew off the hilt of his sword and to his waist. The whole group’s eyes were wide as they went into deep bows.
“And who the hell are you? Did the academy shit out another piece of garbage onto my training grounds?”
Jirou turned around, hand still on his sword. He saw a short, stocky man who’s short-cropped black hair made his jowly, square jawed face look even more rectangular than it was.
“Who the-” Jirou growled.
“And take your goddamn hand off your sword in front of me child!” the man barked, interrupting Jirou. “I am trained in iaido and I'm the top swordsman in the entire Tea Country armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another training dummy. I will wipe you out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my words.”
Jirou blinked several times, not really sure what to make of that. Still, he released his grip on his sword.
“Are you mute boy? What are you doing here?”
Jirou bowed. “My name is Kisama Jirou, I’m here to enlist!”
“Why are you enlisting now? Academy class graduated weeks ago!”
“I uh… waited a year. I was in the same class as them,” Jirou pointed to Yuta and his crew.
“Guess we’ve got a special one! Why should I let you in after a year of lazing around and jerking yourself off?”
Jirou grinned smugly. “I’ve been training every day! I’ll fight anyone and show you!”
Yuta stepped forward. “I’ll wipe the floor with him! He never even learned iaido. They had to send him to special remedial sword classes in the academy.”
The sergeant laughed.
“That true boy?”
“No!” he shouted. “It’s called Toryu style.”
The sergeant stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow. “Alright then. Kisama, show me what you got!”
The sergeant, Yuta’s gang, and a few nearby soldiers formed a circle around Yuta and Jirou. As they did, Jirou produced the jug from his pouch and took a swig of sake.
“Aaaaaaand fight!” the sergeant bellowed.
Yuta reached for his sword and settled into an Iaido stance. Jirou took a deep breath and rolled his broad shoulders a few times, then charged, drawing his sword as he ran.
When Jirou was in range, he saw Yuta push his sheath backwards. The moment he did, Jirou planted his right foot and went straight from his run into a push kick aimed at the pommel of Yuta’s sword. The blow landed before Yuta could fully draw his sword, and it made Yuta lose his grip on the blade. As it fell back into the scabbard, Jirou aimed a straight punch at Yuta’s nose. That blow landed too, and Jirou felt the bone of his opponent’s nose crack under his knuckles.
Yuta was able to back-roll out of the blow. As he came out the roll, he drew his blade and prepared to bring it in a wide arc across Jirou’s torso. However, a brass spike shot out of Jirou’s left palm, parrying the blow. Jirou swung his sword lightly, and halted it an inch away from the side of Yuta’s neck.
“And you’re dead,” Jirou chuckled.
Yuta dropped his sword and Jirou sheathed his.
The sergeant walked towards the two, clapping slowly.
“Well done Kisama,” he said. “Well done. You’re full of dirty tricks, but then again there’s nothing wrong with that on the battlefield. You can consider yourself enlisted.”
Jirou grinned with pride.
“Just one thing,” the sergeant said, producing a tanto from his belt.
Jirou’s eyes went wide.
“We have to get rid of that god awful mustache.”
WC: 1309
CWC: 2261
The next domino to fall was the Crescent Coalition declaring war on Konoha. When that news reached Xincha, the buzz of the news was inescapable. From the time that Jirou awoke that morning it was all he heard about.
“Good morning Jirou. Big news today: looks like the Crescent have declared war on Konoha. It’s all over the news,” his older brother Tetsuo told him when he got up.
“Good news for the factory though! War is big business,” his mother called out from another room.
After a quick breakfast, Jirou and his father walked over to the Scallop and Nabe and opened the place up. As customers started to filter in, war chatter was inescapable.
“This is going to mean a ton more refugees.”
“I hope we don’t get involved.”
“Heart is supposed to be neutral, but you never know.”
“With all the refugees pouring in, I hear there’s been a huge uptick in banditry, especially near the borders.”
As Jirou overheard all of this, just one thought filled his mind: this was the time to enlist. He had told his mother that he would wait “a year or two.” It had been a year, and this was the time. Even if the Heart Empire stayed neutral, as it intended to, there would be plenty of opportunities to fight bandits and guard the borders. And if any other country dared attack Heart, they would feel the wrath of Jirou.
“Jirou! Stop standing around! We got customers!” his father shouted from the kitchen.
That shook Jirou from his fantasy of striding through the battlefield, arrows falling all around him. Still, as he went to greet the new customers, he began to hatch a plan.
The next day was one of his few days off. Jirou arose quietly, just before sunrise, and got ready. He had set out clothes the evening before to minimize noise: a tight black t-shirt, baggy gray pants that cinched at the ankles, a deep green fatigue jacket, and the wooden dog tags which were given to him when he graduated from the academy. He had set aside boots and his sword as well, but didn’t don them quite yet, so as not to hamper his sneaking. Jirou scampered quietly to the kitchen, sneaking a small jug of sake into his pouch before heading to the door. When he had cleared the front door, he hastily shoved his feet into his boots and ran off. Once safely out of view of the house where he had grown up, he finally paused to tie his boots and fasten his sword to his hip.
As the sun rose on Xincha, Jirou walked through the awakening city with all the swagger of a high-ranking samurai, nodding to the fishmongers and bakers opening up their stalls. When he arrived at the mustering ground, soldiers were beginning to filter in. It was a mixture of recent academy graduates, just inducted as full-fledged samurai, and older soldiers supervising their training.
“Hey Kisama, what are you doing here?”
Jirou turned around to see a group of boys who were in his year in the academy.
“Hey Yuta,” Jirou said to the boy who had called him. “I’m gonna join up!”
“I thought your mommy wouldn’t let you!” Yuta mocked.
Jirou gritted his teeth as the group laughed at him.
“I’m gonna kick your ass Yuta!” Jirou hollered.
“Oooh, I’m swoooo scwawed,” Yuta replied, making himself sound like a baby. “Wittle baby Jiwou is gonna kick my ass.”
Yuta grinned and reached for his sword. “Bet you couldn’t even land a scratch on me.”
Jirou started to reach for his sword, but was interrupted by someone shouting behind him.
“What is your major malfunction Hayasaka?”
Yuta’s hand flew off the hilt of his sword and to his waist. The whole group’s eyes were wide as they went into deep bows.
“And who the hell are you? Did the academy shit out another piece of garbage onto my training grounds?”
Jirou turned around, hand still on his sword. He saw a short, stocky man who’s short-cropped black hair made his jowly, square jawed face look even more rectangular than it was.
“Who the-” Jirou growled.
“And take your goddamn hand off your sword in front of me child!” the man barked, interrupting Jirou. “I am trained in iaido and I'm the top swordsman in the entire Tea Country armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another training dummy. I will wipe you out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my words.”
Jirou blinked several times, not really sure what to make of that. Still, he released his grip on his sword.
“Are you mute boy? What are you doing here?”
Jirou bowed. “My name is Kisama Jirou, I’m here to enlist!”
“Why are you enlisting now? Academy class graduated weeks ago!”
“I uh… waited a year. I was in the same class as them,” Jirou pointed to Yuta and his crew.
“Guess we’ve got a special one! Why should I let you in after a year of lazing around and jerking yourself off?”
Jirou grinned smugly. “I’ve been training every day! I’ll fight anyone and show you!”
Yuta stepped forward. “I’ll wipe the floor with him! He never even learned iaido. They had to send him to special remedial sword classes in the academy.”
The sergeant laughed.
“That true boy?”
“No!” he shouted. “It’s called Toryu style.”
The sergeant stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow. “Alright then. Kisama, show me what you got!”
The sergeant, Yuta’s gang, and a few nearby soldiers formed a circle around Yuta and Jirou. As they did, Jirou produced the jug from his pouch and took a swig of sake.
“Aaaaaaand fight!” the sergeant bellowed.
Yuta reached for his sword and settled into an Iaido stance. Jirou took a deep breath and rolled his broad shoulders a few times, then charged, drawing his sword as he ran.
When Jirou was in range, he saw Yuta push his sheath backwards. The moment he did, Jirou planted his right foot and went straight from his run into a push kick aimed at the pommel of Yuta’s sword. The blow landed before Yuta could fully draw his sword, and it made Yuta lose his grip on the blade. As it fell back into the scabbard, Jirou aimed a straight punch at Yuta’s nose. That blow landed too, and Jirou felt the bone of his opponent’s nose crack under his knuckles.
Yuta was able to back-roll out of the blow. As he came out the roll, he drew his blade and prepared to bring it in a wide arc across Jirou’s torso. However, a brass spike shot out of Jirou’s left palm, parrying the blow. Jirou swung his sword lightly, and halted it an inch away from the side of Yuta’s neck.
“And you’re dead,” Jirou chuckled.
Yuta dropped his sword and Jirou sheathed his.
The sergeant walked towards the two, clapping slowly.
“Well done Kisama,” he said. “Well done. You’re full of dirty tricks, but then again there’s nothing wrong with that on the battlefield. You can consider yourself enlisted.”
Jirou grinned with pride.
“Just one thing,” the sergeant said, producing a tanto from his belt.
Jirou’s eyes went wide.
“We have to get rid of that god awful mustache.”
WC: 1309
CWC: 2261
Last edited by Drak on Thu Feb 15, 2024 9:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
| Akito Hyuuga | Konoha | Jounin | #008080 |
|
Jirou Kisama | Heart Empire | Akibushi | #BF4000 |
|
Hanzou Fukusha | Iwa | Genin | #800080 |
When the Boys are on Parade [Lonely]
“You did what?” Kyoko bellowed, getting right in her son’s face.
Jirou had been out all day, which wasn’t uncommon. What was uncommon was how early he left and how sweaty and worn out he was when he returned. Jirou’s answer to his mother’s casual inquiry into where he had been was what drew her ire.
“What did you promise me?”
“That I would wait ‘a year or two’ before enlisting,” Jirou shouted back, making little air quotes around the length of time his mother had asked for. “It’s been more than a year, so I enlisted. It’s done. There’s no going back now. With everything that’s going on in the world right now it’s the perfect time. The Heart Empire needs me.”
“The Heart Empire doesn’t need you!" Kyoko shouted. “It doesn’t need one more child ready to die for it. Your family needs you. Our businesses need you. We need you!”
“The family businesses will do fine without me,” Jirou spat back. “Tetsuo is gonna take over the factory, and Mei will take over the restaurant and I’m not going to take over shit. This is the way I’m going to make something of myself! That I'm going to find my way.”
“This is the way you die!” Kyoko shrieked.
“I’m not gonna die,” Jirou said proudly. “The Heart Empire is neutral. I probably won’t even see any action.” He tried not to sound too disappointed with that last part, hoping to assuage his mother’s fears.
“Who is going to take over your restaurant shifts?” Jirou’s father Denki barked.
“I can figure that out with the other guys there,” Jirou told his father. “And for right now I can probably still work there a little bit when I’m not doing training. The pay is going to be better too, soon.”
Denki just sighed. Kyoko walked over and sat next to her husband, resting her head on his shoulder. It was hard to tell, but she was holding back tears. Jirou thought that maybe he should leave, and he walked up to his room.
Maybe twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Tetsuo came in.
“Jirou, bro, mom is losing it,” he said. “What happened?”
“I enlisted,” Jirou said warily, pushing his chest out with pride.
Tetsuo sighed. “Yeah, I thought as much.”
“What? You have thoughts about it too?”
“Me?” Tetsuo said, pointing to his own chest. “Honestly man, I’m surprised it took you this long. Seems like this is what you want to do, so I say do it. I hate that mom is hurting so much about it. I can kind of see why, but I think this is different than the Great War.”
“Yeah. It's different...”
“Listen, if this is official official, if you’ve signed the paperwork and everything, then you’ve gotta excel at this soldier stuff.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Jirou had been expecting another fight, not this weird, supportive, older brother stuff.
“If you made mom cry like this so you could do something you suck at I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Jirou grinned at his elder brother.
"Deal!"
WC: 520
CWC: 2781
Jirou had been out all day, which wasn’t uncommon. What was uncommon was how early he left and how sweaty and worn out he was when he returned. Jirou’s answer to his mother’s casual inquiry into where he had been was what drew her ire.
“What did you promise me?”
“That I would wait ‘a year or two’ before enlisting,” Jirou shouted back, making little air quotes around the length of time his mother had asked for. “It’s been more than a year, so I enlisted. It’s done. There’s no going back now. With everything that’s going on in the world right now it’s the perfect time. The Heart Empire needs me.”
“The Heart Empire doesn’t need you!" Kyoko shouted. “It doesn’t need one more child ready to die for it. Your family needs you. Our businesses need you. We need you!”
“The family businesses will do fine without me,” Jirou spat back. “Tetsuo is gonna take over the factory, and Mei will take over the restaurant and I’m not going to take over shit. This is the way I’m going to make something of myself! That I'm going to find my way.”
“This is the way you die!” Kyoko shrieked.
“I’m not gonna die,” Jirou said proudly. “The Heart Empire is neutral. I probably won’t even see any action.” He tried not to sound too disappointed with that last part, hoping to assuage his mother’s fears.
“Who is going to take over your restaurant shifts?” Jirou’s father Denki barked.
“I can figure that out with the other guys there,” Jirou told his father. “And for right now I can probably still work there a little bit when I’m not doing training. The pay is going to be better too, soon.”
Denki just sighed. Kyoko walked over and sat next to her husband, resting her head on his shoulder. It was hard to tell, but she was holding back tears. Jirou thought that maybe he should leave, and he walked up to his room.
Maybe twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Tetsuo came in.
“Jirou, bro, mom is losing it,” he said. “What happened?”
“I enlisted,” Jirou said warily, pushing his chest out with pride.
Tetsuo sighed. “Yeah, I thought as much.”
“What? You have thoughts about it too?”
“Me?” Tetsuo said, pointing to his own chest. “Honestly man, I’m surprised it took you this long. Seems like this is what you want to do, so I say do it. I hate that mom is hurting so much about it. I can kind of see why, but I think this is different than the Great War.”
“Yeah. It's different...”
“Listen, if this is official official, if you’ve signed the paperwork and everything, then you’ve gotta excel at this soldier stuff.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Jirou had been expecting another fight, not this weird, supportive, older brother stuff.
“If you made mom cry like this so you could do something you suck at I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Jirou grinned at his elder brother.
"Deal!"
WC: 520
CWC: 2781
| Akito Hyuuga | Konoha | Jounin | #008080 |
|
Jirou Kisama | Heart Empire | Akibushi | #BF4000 |
|
Hanzou Fukusha | Iwa | Genin | #800080 |
When the Boys are on Parade [Lonely]
The training was hard. Harder than Jirou had expected. And to make matters worse, it seemed like every time he started to get a handle on the training, his sergeant would make things harder on him. Climbing over a wall? His height helped a lot with that, and he was able to jump and vault over it. Then, the sergeant had him do it with arm and leg weights. When he managed to drag himself up the wall and drop down onto the other side, his sergeant told him to try it again but to land on his feet this time. When he managed that, the sergeant produced a backpack full of weights.
Sparring? He was able to use his strength, size, and oudouchi to beat out most of the recent academy grads. Then, the sergeant sicced two or three cadets at once on him. After a few good drubbings, Jirou started to really get the hang of fighting multiple opponents at once, so the sergeant upped the ante again. The newer recruits were to be divided up into squads, with each being assigned one more recruit to hunt down. Jirou was placed with the highest-achieving squad in his year, and before he set off the sergeant approached him with that good old weighted backpack. “Important intelligence you need to get back,” he had said with a grin.
Jirou was given a few minutes to run out into the woods outside of Xincha before his opponents came after him. All he had to do was either defeat all four of them, or evade them for 90 minutes. About fifteen minutes into the exercise, Jirou was running through the forest when he saw a blunted dummy arrow whiz past his head. Jirou whirled around, drawing his sword. Up in a tree, he saw a small boy around his age notching another arrow. At the foot of the tree was a lithe, elegant looking girl, hand on her sheathed sword, eyes locked on Jirou.
The archer sent a flare arrow upwards, to signal to the other two squad members that they had found their quarry. Jirou considered running, but between his size and the weighted backpack, he knew he wouldn’t get far before an arrow hit him. Then, in an instant, the girl was on him, drawing her sword in the classic Iaido style, flowing into a large-arced slash. Jirou was able to maneuver around her dulled blade, but had to quickly duck again to avoid another arrow. When he ducked, the girl slashed her sword down at Jirou. He stumbled backwards, barely avoiding her blade. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. The girl quickly replaced her sword back into the sheath and turned to look at Jirou. He could see her planning out her next move.
“You want the intel? Take the fucking intel!” Jirou shouted, quickly slipping off his backpack and lobbing it at the girl. Her eyes, which had narrowed with focus, went wide. She took her hand off the sheath and prepared to catch the flying bag. It was immediately apparent that the bag was heavier than she had anticipated. Despite guiding it into her body with her arms and leaning her weight into it, the backpack probably weighed close to what she did, and the force was enough to knock her down. Dodging another arrow from the archer, Jirou sprinted over to the girl who was struggling to push the backpack off her chest. He tapped her lightly on the forehead with his dull training sword.
“Dead,” he told her, before pushing the backpack off of her.
As he prepared to charge the tree the archer was in, he heard voices from his left. Turning, he saw the other two teammates coming at him. One was armed with a katana, the other with a naginata. Jirou ran off, positioning himself behind a tree out of the archer’s line of fire. He saw the two new opponents split up, one heading around each side of the tree. Jirou formed a few quick hand seals and popped around the left side, facing down the opponent with the naginata. He brought his left hand up to his mouth, and exhaled a cone of flame in the direction of his opponents. That was enough to drive them back. Most luckily, the naginata wielder had raised his parallel to his body in surprise. Jirou charged. The boy tried to level his glaive at Jirou, but Jirou reached up his free hand and grabbed the weapon just under the blade, and using his long reach, gave the other boy a hard jab in the gut.
The katana wielder charged, taking advantage of Jirou’s distracted state. However, Jirou had a trick up his sleeve. He brought his leg up, and stomped down as hard as he could on his opponent’s foot. The other boy yelped, then Jirou grabbed one of the boy’s wrists, and poked him in the neck with his sword. As he did so though, something hit Jirou hard on the side of the head.
“What the hell was that? That hurt like a bitch!”
“Got you. You’re dead!” a voice called out from a nearby tree.
Jirou turned and saw the archer beaming down at him.
“Eat my whole ass! That’s cheating!”
The archer stuck his tongue out at Jirou.
“Yeah? If that’s cheating then what is throwing your weights?” the girl asked Jirou.
“Whatever lady, I’m going back to the training grounds.” Jirou stormed off, grumbling to himself.
When he arrived back at the grounds, he was in just as foul of a mood as he had been when he set off. The sergeant came up to him.
“How’d it go, soldier?”
“Terrible. I got killed by an arrow!” Jirou griped, before realizing who he was talking to. “Sir.”
“Sounds like a skill issue soldier! Tomorrow we can have you practice fighting some ranged opponents.”
Jirou snapped. “Why are you always throwing this shit at me? Every time I do something you hit me with something new. As soon as I can do something you add more weight. Whenever I can beat someone, you add another opponent. Why do you keep adding things to my plate like this?”
The sergeant laughed in Jirou’s face.
“That’s what training is! Throwing one more thing and one more thing after that at you until you can handle all of it!”
Jirou stood there fuming. The sergeant’s expression changed to a calmer one.
“Besides,” he added. “You’ve got some great potential sonny. You’re gonna be a fantastic soldier one day, but right now you’re a year behind everyone in your year. That Kisama blood means you’re already bigger and stronger than anyone else in your class. Hell, bigger and stronger than a lot of the full-fledged soldiers here. But you need to get stronger still. Back in the war, if you had a Kisama at your back you knew you were in good hands. You’ve got big shoes to fill, and I need to get you caught up ASAP.”
Jirou nodded.
“Now, twenty laps and fifty push ups with that backpack for back talk. Go go go!”
WC: 1197
Total WC: 3978 / 750. Strength +3, Endurance +1, Speed +1
Sparring? He was able to use his strength, size, and oudouchi to beat out most of the recent academy grads. Then, the sergeant sicced two or three cadets at once on him. After a few good drubbings, Jirou started to really get the hang of fighting multiple opponents at once, so the sergeant upped the ante again. The newer recruits were to be divided up into squads, with each being assigned one more recruit to hunt down. Jirou was placed with the highest-achieving squad in his year, and before he set off the sergeant approached him with that good old weighted backpack. “Important intelligence you need to get back,” he had said with a grin.
Jirou was given a few minutes to run out into the woods outside of Xincha before his opponents came after him. All he had to do was either defeat all four of them, or evade them for 90 minutes. About fifteen minutes into the exercise, Jirou was running through the forest when he saw a blunted dummy arrow whiz past his head. Jirou whirled around, drawing his sword. Up in a tree, he saw a small boy around his age notching another arrow. At the foot of the tree was a lithe, elegant looking girl, hand on her sheathed sword, eyes locked on Jirou.
The archer sent a flare arrow upwards, to signal to the other two squad members that they had found their quarry. Jirou considered running, but between his size and the weighted backpack, he knew he wouldn’t get far before an arrow hit him. Then, in an instant, the girl was on him, drawing her sword in the classic Iaido style, flowing into a large-arced slash. Jirou was able to maneuver around her dulled blade, but had to quickly duck again to avoid another arrow. When he ducked, the girl slashed her sword down at Jirou. He stumbled backwards, barely avoiding her blade. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. The girl quickly replaced her sword back into the sheath and turned to look at Jirou. He could see her planning out her next move.
“You want the intel? Take the fucking intel!” Jirou shouted, quickly slipping off his backpack and lobbing it at the girl. Her eyes, which had narrowed with focus, went wide. She took her hand off the sheath and prepared to catch the flying bag. It was immediately apparent that the bag was heavier than she had anticipated. Despite guiding it into her body with her arms and leaning her weight into it, the backpack probably weighed close to what she did, and the force was enough to knock her down. Dodging another arrow from the archer, Jirou sprinted over to the girl who was struggling to push the backpack off her chest. He tapped her lightly on the forehead with his dull training sword.
“Dead,” he told her, before pushing the backpack off of her.
As he prepared to charge the tree the archer was in, he heard voices from his left. Turning, he saw the other two teammates coming at him. One was armed with a katana, the other with a naginata. Jirou ran off, positioning himself behind a tree out of the archer’s line of fire. He saw the two new opponents split up, one heading around each side of the tree. Jirou formed a few quick hand seals and popped around the left side, facing down the opponent with the naginata. He brought his left hand up to his mouth, and exhaled a cone of flame in the direction of his opponents. That was enough to drive them back. Most luckily, the naginata wielder had raised his parallel to his body in surprise. Jirou charged. The boy tried to level his glaive at Jirou, but Jirou reached up his free hand and grabbed the weapon just under the blade, and using his long reach, gave the other boy a hard jab in the gut.
The katana wielder charged, taking advantage of Jirou’s distracted state. However, Jirou had a trick up his sleeve. He brought his leg up, and stomped down as hard as he could on his opponent’s foot. The other boy yelped, then Jirou grabbed one of the boy’s wrists, and poked him in the neck with his sword. As he did so though, something hit Jirou hard on the side of the head.
“What the hell was that? That hurt like a bitch!”
“Got you. You’re dead!” a voice called out from a nearby tree.
Jirou turned and saw the archer beaming down at him.
“Eat my whole ass! That’s cheating!”
The archer stuck his tongue out at Jirou.
“Yeah? If that’s cheating then what is throwing your weights?” the girl asked Jirou.
“Whatever lady, I’m going back to the training grounds.” Jirou stormed off, grumbling to himself.
When he arrived back at the grounds, he was in just as foul of a mood as he had been when he set off. The sergeant came up to him.
“How’d it go, soldier?”
“Terrible. I got killed by an arrow!” Jirou griped, before realizing who he was talking to. “Sir.”
“Sounds like a skill issue soldier! Tomorrow we can have you practice fighting some ranged opponents.”
Jirou snapped. “Why are you always throwing this shit at me? Every time I do something you hit me with something new. As soon as I can do something you add more weight. Whenever I can beat someone, you add another opponent. Why do you keep adding things to my plate like this?”
The sergeant laughed in Jirou’s face.
“That’s what training is! Throwing one more thing and one more thing after that at you until you can handle all of it!”
Jirou stood there fuming. The sergeant’s expression changed to a calmer one.
“Besides,” he added. “You’ve got some great potential sonny. You’re gonna be a fantastic soldier one day, but right now you’re a year behind everyone in your year. That Kisama blood means you’re already bigger and stronger than anyone else in your class. Hell, bigger and stronger than a lot of the full-fledged soldiers here. But you need to get stronger still. Back in the war, if you had a Kisama at your back you knew you were in good hands. You’ve got big shoes to fill, and I need to get you caught up ASAP.”
Jirou nodded.
“Now, twenty laps and fifty push ups with that backpack for back talk. Go go go!”
WC: 1197
Total WC: 3978 / 750. Strength +3, Endurance +1, Speed +1
| Akito Hyuuga | Konoha | Jounin | #008080 |
|
Jirou Kisama | Heart Empire | Akibushi | #BF4000 |
|
Hanzou Fukusha | Iwa | Genin | #800080 |