Daydreaming In The Class Room
Daydreaming In The Class Room
Amane sat at his desk, the cool surface of the wood beneath his palm, steadying the rhythmic drumming of his fingers. The instructor's voice droned on, a steady hum in the background, like the distant buzz of cicadas on a summer night. The chalk scratched across the board in a dull, methodical fashion, filling the room with pale symbols that seemed to blur at the edges, losing their significance in the face of the midday light filtering through the window. His gaze wandered from the equations and diagrams on the board, following the trail of dust motes that danced lazily in the sunbeams. Each particle swirled in its own path, spinning and twirling in the warmth that seeped through the glass. They seemed free, unburdened by the confines of the classroom or the rigid lines of the lesson plan. A faint breeze pushed through the small crack in the window, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass from the courtyard outside. The green of the fields beyond the academy walls beckoned, vibrant and full of life, where the wind whispered secrets to the trees and the clouds drifted in languid arcs across the sky.
Amane’s hand stilled, the tapping ceasing as his eyes followed the movement of the leaves, their edges rustling with a quiet persistence. The way they swayed, bending without breaking, mirrored the fluid grace he sought in his own movements—the effortless precision of a blade cutting through air, a dance of control and power. The instructor paused, a question hanging in the air, unaddressed. Amane’s gaze flickered momentarily back to the front, where expectant eyes searched the faces of the students. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before the lecture resumed, the moment passing without consequence. His attention drifted again, this time to the paper on his desk, where the tip of his pen hovered above a half-finished diagram. The ink had bled slightly into the fibers of the parchment, spreading like the ripples in a pond when a stone was dropped into still waters. The edges of the diagram curved into patterns, intricate and deliberate, yet somehow incomplete, as if waiting for the final touch to bring it to life.
The sunlight moved, casting a golden glow over the paper, and the lines seemed to shimmer, transforming from static symbols into something more—something alive, pulsing with the energy of the world beyond the classroom walls. The pen pressed down again, a smooth stroke that flowed with the ease of water, connecting the lines in a way that felt right, like the completion of a puzzle. The voices of his classmates rose and fell, distant echoes in the background, like the murmur of a stream. Their words mingled with the rustling of leaves outside, blending into a melody that resonated deep within him, calling him away from the confines of the lesson and into the vast, untamed world of possibilities. The breeze shifted, carrying with it the faintest hint of salt from the ocean beyond the horizon. The waves, unseen but ever-present, crashed against the shores of his mind, relentless and powerful, urging him to rise, to break free from the stagnant air of the classroom and follow the call of the open sea.
Amane’s pen stilled once more, the ink drying on the page as his eyes lifted to the window, where the sunlight had begun to fade, replaced by the cool shadows of the afternoon. The lesson continued, the world outside moving on without him, but within the confines of his mind, the currents flowed strong and steady, guiding him to the place where the boundaries between reality and daydream blurred, and the true lessons of the world began. The shadows lengthened across the courtyard, stretching like tendrils across the green expanse, as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky. Amane’s gaze lingered on the window, his mind tracing the shapes of the leaves that danced in the breeze. The rhythm of the classroom had become a distant hum, the instructor’s voice fading to a soft murmur, blending into the rustling of the branches outside. Movement beyond the glass caught his eye, a flash of vibrant orange against the muted greens and browns. He focused on the figure, tall and broad-shouldered, a silhouette that commanded attention even from a distance. The figure turned, and the sunlight caught on the smooth, bald head, gleaming like polished stone. A burst of laughter echoed through the courtyard, full-bodied and infectious, rolling through the open air like a peal of thunder.
Wang Lin stood at the center of a small group of first years, the highest rank in the academy, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation. He was dressed in the simple robes of a monk, the fabric loose and comfortable, yet somehow accentuating the powerful muscles beneath. The robes fluttered slightly in the breeze, as if they, too, were part of the laughter that surrounded him. One of the first years—a wiry boy with a mischievous grin—made a sweeping gesture, his hand moving through the air in an exaggerated arc. Wang Lin responded with an equally dramatic flourish, his arm tracing a wide circle as he mimicked the boy’s gesture, adding a mock-serious expression that only made his companions laugh harder. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, yet there was a playfulness to them, a lightness that belied his strength. Amane’s hand tightened around his pen, the paper beneath it forgotten. The sight of his mentor, so at ease, so unburdened by the weight of expectations, struck a chord deep within him. Wang Lin, the elder brother figure he looked up to, the one who carried the wisdom of years and the strength of countless battles, was here, laughing with the others, as if the world outside the academy walls didn’t exist.
Another first year—a tall girl with a quick smile—tossed a small object to Wang Lin, a bright red apple that sailed through the air in a perfect arc. Wang Lin caught it effortlessly, his fingers closing around it with practiced ease. He twirled the apple once in his hand, then, with a wink and a grin, bit into it with a loud, exaggerated crunch. Juice dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, his laughter echoing once more. The group around him erupted into applause, some of them doubling over with laughter, others clapping him on the back in playful camaraderie. Wang Lin bowed with a flourish, his grin widening as he acknowledged the mock adoration of his friends. His bald head gleamed in the fading light, and for a moment, he looked every bit the carefree student, a stark contrast to the disciplined monk he often embodied. Amane’s heart beat a little faster, a mix of emotions swirling within him. The sight of Wang Lin like this—so different from the stern mentor he knew—was both unsettling and captivating. The ease with which he interacted with the others, the way he seemed to belong in that moment, stirred something within Amane, something that lingered just out of reach, like the distant horizon beyond the courtyard.
The world outside the window seemed to grow brighter, more vibrant, as if reflecting the energy that Wang Lin exuded. The laughter, the playful banter, the easy camaraderie—it was a world apart from the structured lessons and rigid expectations of the classroom. Yet, it was also a world that Wang Lin navigated with the same confidence and grace he brought to everything he did. Amane’s gaze remained fixed on the courtyard, his attention no longer drifting, but focused, drawn to the figure of Wang Lin, who stood at the center of it all, a pillar of strength and joy amidst the chaos of the day. The light outside continued to shift, casting long shadows across the courtyard, but within those shadows, there was warmth, a flicker of something more, something that called to Amane, even as the lesson droned on around him.
Amane’s hand stilled, the tapping ceasing as his eyes followed the movement of the leaves, their edges rustling with a quiet persistence. The way they swayed, bending without breaking, mirrored the fluid grace he sought in his own movements—the effortless precision of a blade cutting through air, a dance of control and power. The instructor paused, a question hanging in the air, unaddressed. Amane’s gaze flickered momentarily back to the front, where expectant eyes searched the faces of the students. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before the lecture resumed, the moment passing without consequence. His attention drifted again, this time to the paper on his desk, where the tip of his pen hovered above a half-finished diagram. The ink had bled slightly into the fibers of the parchment, spreading like the ripples in a pond when a stone was dropped into still waters. The edges of the diagram curved into patterns, intricate and deliberate, yet somehow incomplete, as if waiting for the final touch to bring it to life.
The sunlight moved, casting a golden glow over the paper, and the lines seemed to shimmer, transforming from static symbols into something more—something alive, pulsing with the energy of the world beyond the classroom walls. The pen pressed down again, a smooth stroke that flowed with the ease of water, connecting the lines in a way that felt right, like the completion of a puzzle. The voices of his classmates rose and fell, distant echoes in the background, like the murmur of a stream. Their words mingled with the rustling of leaves outside, blending into a melody that resonated deep within him, calling him away from the confines of the lesson and into the vast, untamed world of possibilities. The breeze shifted, carrying with it the faintest hint of salt from the ocean beyond the horizon. The waves, unseen but ever-present, crashed against the shores of his mind, relentless and powerful, urging him to rise, to break free from the stagnant air of the classroom and follow the call of the open sea.
Amane’s pen stilled once more, the ink drying on the page as his eyes lifted to the window, where the sunlight had begun to fade, replaced by the cool shadows of the afternoon. The lesson continued, the world outside moving on without him, but within the confines of his mind, the currents flowed strong and steady, guiding him to the place where the boundaries between reality and daydream blurred, and the true lessons of the world began. The shadows lengthened across the courtyard, stretching like tendrils across the green expanse, as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky. Amane’s gaze lingered on the window, his mind tracing the shapes of the leaves that danced in the breeze. The rhythm of the classroom had become a distant hum, the instructor’s voice fading to a soft murmur, blending into the rustling of the branches outside. Movement beyond the glass caught his eye, a flash of vibrant orange against the muted greens and browns. He focused on the figure, tall and broad-shouldered, a silhouette that commanded attention even from a distance. The figure turned, and the sunlight caught on the smooth, bald head, gleaming like polished stone. A burst of laughter echoed through the courtyard, full-bodied and infectious, rolling through the open air like a peal of thunder.
Wang Lin stood at the center of a small group of first years, the highest rank in the academy, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation. He was dressed in the simple robes of a monk, the fabric loose and comfortable, yet somehow accentuating the powerful muscles beneath. The robes fluttered slightly in the breeze, as if they, too, were part of the laughter that surrounded him. One of the first years—a wiry boy with a mischievous grin—made a sweeping gesture, his hand moving through the air in an exaggerated arc. Wang Lin responded with an equally dramatic flourish, his arm tracing a wide circle as he mimicked the boy’s gesture, adding a mock-serious expression that only made his companions laugh harder. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, yet there was a playfulness to them, a lightness that belied his strength. Amane’s hand tightened around his pen, the paper beneath it forgotten. The sight of his mentor, so at ease, so unburdened by the weight of expectations, struck a chord deep within him. Wang Lin, the elder brother figure he looked up to, the one who carried the wisdom of years and the strength of countless battles, was here, laughing with the others, as if the world outside the academy walls didn’t exist.
Another first year—a tall girl with a quick smile—tossed a small object to Wang Lin, a bright red apple that sailed through the air in a perfect arc. Wang Lin caught it effortlessly, his fingers closing around it with practiced ease. He twirled the apple once in his hand, then, with a wink and a grin, bit into it with a loud, exaggerated crunch. Juice dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, his laughter echoing once more. The group around him erupted into applause, some of them doubling over with laughter, others clapping him on the back in playful camaraderie. Wang Lin bowed with a flourish, his grin widening as he acknowledged the mock adoration of his friends. His bald head gleamed in the fading light, and for a moment, he looked every bit the carefree student, a stark contrast to the disciplined monk he often embodied. Amane’s heart beat a little faster, a mix of emotions swirling within him. The sight of Wang Lin like this—so different from the stern mentor he knew—was both unsettling and captivating. The ease with which he interacted with the others, the way he seemed to belong in that moment, stirred something within Amane, something that lingered just out of reach, like the distant horizon beyond the courtyard.
The world outside the window seemed to grow brighter, more vibrant, as if reflecting the energy that Wang Lin exuded. The laughter, the playful banter, the easy camaraderie—it was a world apart from the structured lessons and rigid expectations of the classroom. Yet, it was also a world that Wang Lin navigated with the same confidence and grace he brought to everything he did. Amane’s gaze remained fixed on the courtyard, his attention no longer drifting, but focused, drawn to the figure of Wang Lin, who stood at the center of it all, a pillar of strength and joy amidst the chaos of the day. The light outside continued to shift, casting long shadows across the courtyard, but within those shadows, there was warmth, a flicker of something more, something that called to Amane, even as the lesson droned on around him.
CharactersShow
Aisu, Yurei | Hoshizora, Amane |
Kirigakure Genin | Hitogakure Genin |
|
|
[Sword Weapons] | [Yin Release] |
Teal | Mediumorchid |
- King of Cats
- Posts: 1174
- Joined: Mon Oct 09, 2023 9:03 pm
- Location: Detroit, MI
- User flair: "No matter how powerful you become, do not try to shoulder everything alone."
Daydreaming In The Class Room
Sitting in class, Kazuma had a radio in his left ear. The radio was a rip off of Heart's famous tech, but it worked just as good. Crescent Coalition sold them to high ranking ninja and Kazuma fit the bill. The fourteen years old Jounin had his favorite rock and roll station playing. "It was an April morning, when they told us we should go. And as I turned to you, you smiled at me, how could we say no? Oh, the fun to have..." The singer of the song wailed on with a driving electric guitar wailing in the background. Kazuma had his hand covering the radio so that the teacher wouldn't see him goofing off. In truth, Kazuma had already acquired the knowledge necessary to pass this class. The subject matter was battle formations, an integral part of Crescent teamwork, and Kazuma was a well experienced ninja. He had completed over 40 B-ranked missions for Hitogakure no Sato, before the age of fifteen. Teamwork was something he understood well, and Kazuma had plenty of experience with all of the intermediate positions for ninja in his village. This class was necessary for every student of Sky-Reach to pass, but Kazuma couldn't be arsed. He was staring at the chalkboard blindly, jamming to the heavy rock and roll in his ears.
As he sat in his desk, slouched over on his elbow, Kazuma's eyes began to wander around the room. First he looked for Wei Pan, the cutest girl in the class, and when he found her picking her nose Kazuma was aghast. The teenager's eyes bulged out of his head, but he didn't make any noise. Instead he jerked his head to the other side of the classroom and stared out of the windows. There was a group of people enjoying themselves on a fine summer day, and quite frankly Kazuma envied them. The young ninja wanted nothing more than to break free from this boring class, but it would take more than wishing to get such a dream to turn into reality.
The white haired youth started chewing on his lip ring, anxious to get out of class and into freedom's reach. While he chewed on metal, Kazuma noticed someone else staring out of the window. Kazuma barely recognized them from class. They were a lower ranked ninja named Amane. The jounin was sitting just a desk away from him, and decided he would see if the boy knew what was going on outside.
Whispering softly to Amane, Kazuma said, "You know em? Those people outside?" Kazuma gave Amane a curious smile, hinting to the white haired boy that he was interested in a conversation, and not the lesson.
As he sat in his desk, slouched over on his elbow, Kazuma's eyes began to wander around the room. First he looked for Wei Pan, the cutest girl in the class, and when he found her picking her nose Kazuma was aghast. The teenager's eyes bulged out of his head, but he didn't make any noise. Instead he jerked his head to the other side of the classroom and stared out of the windows. There was a group of people enjoying themselves on a fine summer day, and quite frankly Kazuma envied them. The young ninja wanted nothing more than to break free from this boring class, but it would take more than wishing to get such a dream to turn into reality.
The white haired youth started chewing on his lip ring, anxious to get out of class and into freedom's reach. While he chewed on metal, Kazuma noticed someone else staring out of the window. Kazuma barely recognized them from class. They were a lower ranked ninja named Amane. The jounin was sitting just a desk away from him, and decided he would see if the boy knew what was going on outside.
Whispering softly to Amane, Kazuma said, "You know em? Those people outside?" Kazuma gave Amane a curious smile, hinting to the white haired boy that he was interested in a conversation, and not the lesson.
Kouseki, Seiji • Chuunin • Sunagakure no Sato
Nara, Shiroyasha • Genin • Konohagakure no Sato
Tsukino, Himura • Genin • Kirigakure no Sato
Shuryo, Roku • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Akari, Kohaku • Genin • Iwagakure no Sato
Hyuuga, Isshin • Genin •Konohagakure no Sato
Kisama, Aichi • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Hyuuga, Kokou • Jounin • Konohagakure no Sato
Ishiguro, Shushiki • Genin • Kumogakure no Sato
Nara, Shiroyasha • Genin • Konohagakure no Sato
Tsukino, Himura • Genin • Kirigakure no Sato
Shuryo, Roku • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Akari, Kohaku • Genin • Iwagakure no Sato
Hyuuga, Isshin • Genin •Konohagakure no Sato
Kisama, Aichi • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Hyuuga, Kokou • Jounin • Konohagakure no Sato
Ishiguro, Shushiki • Genin • Kumogakure no Sato
Daydreaming In The Class Room
Amane's fingers paused in their idle drumming as a voice cut through the haze of the classroom, low and whispered, yet carrying enough weight to draw his attention. Kazuma's words barely reached above the murmur of the teacher's lecture, but the curious tone threaded through them was impossible to ignore. The slight crinkle at the corner of Kazuma's mouth hinted at more than just a casual inquiry—it was an invitation, a nudge towards something outside the confines of the lesson, something more alive. Kazuma's presence loomed just a desk away, a quiet buzz of energy in the otherwise stagnant room. The faint hum of rock music seeped through the air, though muffled by the hand Kazuma kept pressed to his ear, a deliberate act to keep the teacher oblivious. The beat of the song seemed to sync with the rhythm of Kazuma’s heartbeat, his slouched posture betraying the restlessness that simmered beneath the surface. The flash of white hair, the casual lean of his frame, and the metallic glint of a lip ring caught in the late afternoon light—each detail painted a picture of someone who had already mastered the steps of this particular dance, someone who found the current tempo far too slow.
Amane turned his gaze back to the window, letting it drift once more to the scene outside. The group in the courtyard moved with a freedom that contrasted sharply with the rigid lines of the classroom. Laughter echoed faintly through the glass, carried by the same breeze that rustled the leaves. Wang Lin, with his broad smile and easy camaraderie, stood at the center, his presence commanding and effortless. The others, the first years who orbited around him, mirrored his movements, caught up in the shared joy of the moment. Kazuma's question lingered in the air, not just a query but a thread connecting the two of them—a thread that pulled Amane’s focus from the drifting motes of sunlight back to the present. He didn’t need to search his memory for a response; the answer was as clear as the sunlight streaming through the window.
Amane’s eyes shifted back to Kazuma, meeting the older boy’s curious gaze. The soft glow of amusement in Kazuma’s eyes, paired with the subtle tap of his fingers against the desk in time with the music, gave away his intent. The lesson on battle formations, with its dry recitations and theoretical scenarios, seemed a world apart from the raw, pulsing life outside the window—and Kazuma, with his easy grin and unspoken confidence, embodied that distance. The whisper of fabric accompanied the slight turn of Amane’s head as he nodded towards the window, where Wang Lin’s laughter still resonated, even through the thick glass. There was no need for explanations, no need to recount the hours spent under Wang Lin’s guidance, the sweat and effort that had forged a bond as strong as steel. Wang Lin’s name didn’t need to be said aloud for the connection to be understood—his presence alone spoke volumes.
Amane’s gaze lingered on Kazuma for a moment longer, taking in the way the older boy’s attention flicked between him and the window, the barely contained impatience in his stance. The shared understanding passed between them silently, a recognition that, while their paths within the academy might be different, there was a thread of commonality—a shared yearning for something beyond the lesson, something that pulsed with the same energy as the rock music in Kazuma’s ear and the laughter outside. "The baldy is my big brother. Well, sort of. He brought me to Lupine when I was young, and looked out for me ever since. Its strange to seem him so carefree, when I've always known him as stern, and unforgiving of failure."
Without another word, Amane shifted slightly in his seat, his body turning ever so subtly towards the window, where the world outside continued to move with a rhythm all its own. The lesson, with its rigid lines and structured formations, faded further into the background, replaced by the silent agreement between two boys who, in that moment, found themselves drawn to the same pulse of life beyond the classroom walls.
Amane turned his gaze back to the window, letting it drift once more to the scene outside. The group in the courtyard moved with a freedom that contrasted sharply with the rigid lines of the classroom. Laughter echoed faintly through the glass, carried by the same breeze that rustled the leaves. Wang Lin, with his broad smile and easy camaraderie, stood at the center, his presence commanding and effortless. The others, the first years who orbited around him, mirrored his movements, caught up in the shared joy of the moment. Kazuma's question lingered in the air, not just a query but a thread connecting the two of them—a thread that pulled Amane’s focus from the drifting motes of sunlight back to the present. He didn’t need to search his memory for a response; the answer was as clear as the sunlight streaming through the window.
Amane’s eyes shifted back to Kazuma, meeting the older boy’s curious gaze. The soft glow of amusement in Kazuma’s eyes, paired with the subtle tap of his fingers against the desk in time with the music, gave away his intent. The lesson on battle formations, with its dry recitations and theoretical scenarios, seemed a world apart from the raw, pulsing life outside the window—and Kazuma, with his easy grin and unspoken confidence, embodied that distance. The whisper of fabric accompanied the slight turn of Amane’s head as he nodded towards the window, where Wang Lin’s laughter still resonated, even through the thick glass. There was no need for explanations, no need to recount the hours spent under Wang Lin’s guidance, the sweat and effort that had forged a bond as strong as steel. Wang Lin’s name didn’t need to be said aloud for the connection to be understood—his presence alone spoke volumes.
Amane’s gaze lingered on Kazuma for a moment longer, taking in the way the older boy’s attention flicked between him and the window, the barely contained impatience in his stance. The shared understanding passed between them silently, a recognition that, while their paths within the academy might be different, there was a thread of commonality—a shared yearning for something beyond the lesson, something that pulsed with the same energy as the rock music in Kazuma’s ear and the laughter outside. "The baldy is my big brother. Well, sort of. He brought me to Lupine when I was young, and looked out for me ever since. Its strange to seem him so carefree, when I've always known him as stern, and unforgiving of failure."
Without another word, Amane shifted slightly in his seat, his body turning ever so subtly towards the window, where the world outside continued to move with a rhythm all its own. The lesson, with its rigid lines and structured formations, faded further into the background, replaced by the silent agreement between two boys who, in that moment, found themselves drawn to the same pulse of life beyond the classroom walls.
Last edited by Gara on Sat Aug 24, 2024 12:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
CharactersShow
Aisu, Yurei | Hoshizora, Amane |
Kirigakure Genin | Hitogakure Genin |
|
|
[Sword Weapons] | [Yin Release] |
Teal | Mediumorchid |
- King of Cats
- Posts: 1174
- Joined: Mon Oct 09, 2023 9:03 pm
- Location: Detroit, MI
- User flair: "No matter how powerful you become, do not try to shoulder everything alone."
Daydreaming In The Class Room
Smiling softly, Kazuma still had his music playing. The hard rock beat was barely audible, or so Kazuma thought. The way Amane tapped his finger seemed to suggest to Kazuma that the boy could hear the awesome rock and roll ballad, but Kazuma wasn't worried. Amane seemed cool to Kazuma. Maybe he was just partial to the boys white hair, but Kazuma felt like he could trust Amane in that moment. The pierced youth continued looking out the window to Wang Lin and his posse. Kazuma didn't recognize him, but he assumed the dude was someone of well reknown in his own circle.
When Amane confirmed that he knew the monk, Kazuma nodded to him. Still whispering, the jounin said to Amane, "It's always nicer looking in. I guess sin this case we are looking out, technically." Kazuma chuckled. What he meant to say was that the monk surely felt the usual sternness of his actions even when frolicking. Stress, pressure, they were things not easily shaken. To enjoy ones self though, would make those things appear weightless. "It's good you can see your mentor enjoying himself. He looks happy." Kazuma flashed a look over at the teacher. He was still going on about simple formations, explaining the value of a point in conjunction with the assault team. It was terribly boring, and Kazuma turned his head back to the window, nestling his left ear into the palm of his hand.
"I'm Kazuma Amegawa. I'm a Jounin of Aguin. Nice to meet ya." Kazuma reached his first across the empty desk for Amane to fist bump with him.
When Amane confirmed that he knew the monk, Kazuma nodded to him. Still whispering, the jounin said to Amane, "It's always nicer looking in. I guess sin this case we are looking out, technically." Kazuma chuckled. What he meant to say was that the monk surely felt the usual sternness of his actions even when frolicking. Stress, pressure, they were things not easily shaken. To enjoy ones self though, would make those things appear weightless. "It's good you can see your mentor enjoying himself. He looks happy." Kazuma flashed a look over at the teacher. He was still going on about simple formations, explaining the value of a point in conjunction with the assault team. It was terribly boring, and Kazuma turned his head back to the window, nestling his left ear into the palm of his hand.
"I'm Kazuma Amegawa. I'm a Jounin of Aguin. Nice to meet ya." Kazuma reached his first across the empty desk for Amane to fist bump with him.
Kouseki, Seiji • Chuunin • Sunagakure no Sato
Nara, Shiroyasha • Genin • Konohagakure no Sato
Tsukino, Himura • Genin • Kirigakure no Sato
Shuryo, Roku • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Akari, Kohaku • Genin • Iwagakure no Sato
Hyuuga, Isshin • Genin •Konohagakure no Sato
Kisama, Aichi • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Hyuuga, Kokou • Jounin • Konohagakure no Sato
Ishiguro, Shushiki • Genin • Kumogakure no Sato
Nara, Shiroyasha • Genin • Konohagakure no Sato
Tsukino, Himura • Genin • Kirigakure no Sato
Shuryo, Roku • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Akari, Kohaku • Genin • Iwagakure no Sato
Hyuuga, Isshin • Genin •Konohagakure no Sato
Kisama, Aichi • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Hyuuga, Kokou • Jounin • Konohagakure no Sato
Ishiguro, Shushiki • Genin • Kumogakure no Sato
Daydreaming In The Class Room
The low hum of Kazuma’s music pulsed through the air, a barely-there vibration that tingled in Amane’s ears, like the distant rumble of thunder. The beat, heavy and insistent, seemed to match the rhythm of Kazuma’s casual confidence, the way his fingers drummed lightly against the desk, each tap a silent echo of the music only he could fully hear. The faint scent of metal—sharp and tangy—lingered around Kazuma, likely from the lip ring that caught the light whenever he spoke, a subtle reminder of the rough edges the older boy carried with him. Amane’s fingers continued their own rhythm, a soft, steady tap that mirrored Kazuma’s, the sensation of the cool wood beneath his fingertips grounding him in the moment. The warmth of the afternoon sun filtered through the glass, casting long, golden streaks across the classroom, and with it came the faint smell of earth and grass, a reminder of the life teeming just beyond the walls. The distant laughter from outside, muffled but persistent, seemed to merge with the faint strains of Kazuma’s music, creating a strange harmony that filled the space between them.
Kazuma’s words were a low whisper, barely disturbing the air, but the weight of them lingered. The notion of “looking in,” of being on the outside while others enjoyed the moment, resonated in the quiet that followed. Amane’s gaze drifted back to Wang Lin, whose laughter continued to ripple through the courtyard, a sound as warm and rich as the sunlight that bathed him. The sight of his mentor, so free and unguarded, carried with it a strange mix of comfort and yearning—a reminder that even the strongest needed these moments of levity, these fleeting glimpses of joy. The soft rustle of Kazuma’s movement brought Amane’s attention back to the classroom, the slight shift in the air as the older boy turned and offered his fist, the gesture casual yet expectant. The scent of worn leather, from Kazuma’s bracer, mingled with the lingering smell of chalk and ink that filled the classroom, creating a sensory backdrop to the moment that seemed far removed from the dry lecture continuing at the front of the room.
Amane met Kazuma’s gaze, the bright curiosity in the Jounin’s eyes underscored by the steady beat of the music still playing in his ear. The air between them felt charged, not with the tension of battle formations or the stern discipline of their training, but with a shared understanding, a silent agreement that this moment, however brief, was one worth marking. He extended his fist, feeling the slight give of the desk beneath his arm, and met Kazuma’s with a light bump, the touch as fleeting as the summer breeze that teased the edges of the window. “Amane of Lupine,” he replied, the name slipping easily into the space between them, like the rustle of a leaf caught in the wind. The moment held, suspended in the afternoon light, before the classroom noise crept back in, the drone of the teacher’s voice a reminder of the world that awaited them both beyond this brief exchange.
Kazuma’s words were a low whisper, barely disturbing the air, but the weight of them lingered. The notion of “looking in,” of being on the outside while others enjoyed the moment, resonated in the quiet that followed. Amane’s gaze drifted back to Wang Lin, whose laughter continued to ripple through the courtyard, a sound as warm and rich as the sunlight that bathed him. The sight of his mentor, so free and unguarded, carried with it a strange mix of comfort and yearning—a reminder that even the strongest needed these moments of levity, these fleeting glimpses of joy. The soft rustle of Kazuma’s movement brought Amane’s attention back to the classroom, the slight shift in the air as the older boy turned and offered his fist, the gesture casual yet expectant. The scent of worn leather, from Kazuma’s bracer, mingled with the lingering smell of chalk and ink that filled the classroom, creating a sensory backdrop to the moment that seemed far removed from the dry lecture continuing at the front of the room.
Amane met Kazuma’s gaze, the bright curiosity in the Jounin’s eyes underscored by the steady beat of the music still playing in his ear. The air between them felt charged, not with the tension of battle formations or the stern discipline of their training, but with a shared understanding, a silent agreement that this moment, however brief, was one worth marking. He extended his fist, feeling the slight give of the desk beneath his arm, and met Kazuma’s with a light bump, the touch as fleeting as the summer breeze that teased the edges of the window. “Amane of Lupine,” he replied, the name slipping easily into the space between them, like the rustle of a leaf caught in the wind. The moment held, suspended in the afternoon light, before the classroom noise crept back in, the drone of the teacher’s voice a reminder of the world that awaited them both beyond this brief exchange.
CharactersShow
Aisu, Yurei | Hoshizora, Amane |
Kirigakure Genin | Hitogakure Genin |
|
|
[Sword Weapons] | [Yin Release] |
Teal | Mediumorchid |
- King of Cats
- Posts: 1174
- Joined: Mon Oct 09, 2023 9:03 pm
- Location: Detroit, MI
- User flair: "No matter how powerful you become, do not try to shoulder everything alone."
Daydreaming In The Class Room
"Nice to meet you, Amane." Kazuma said to the teenager, still staring at Amane with a passionate curiosity. The jounin was excited to meet someone. He had an intrinsic desire to befriend others, hoping to gain in life by knowing people. It had always worked for Kazuma in the past. He was well liked by his orphanage caretakers, and as a ninja he proved to be one of the most loyal Shinobi raising through the ranks of Hitogakure. "I am of the Aguin house, a very esteemed member as you might expect.I'm a Jounin for Hitogakure." Kazuma reached down and grabbed his forehead protector from out of his bag. It had the crest for Hitogakure engraved into it.
Smiling still, Kazuma continued speaking softly to Amane. "Are you a ninja? I haven't seen you around the office. I tend to some special tasks in Hitogakure. I direct fresh ranks around the office. It's a pretty cool job, but it doesn't pay. Haha." Kazuma chuckled and then pulled his headphone out of his ear. Whispering even quieter still, Kazuma said to Amane, "Yo u wanna hang out after class? I heard students get extra points for training across Houses. Maybe we can meet at Training Ground 9 after this boring class?" Kazuma was grinning wildly. He loved the idea of seeing someone elses skills, and more than that, he wanted to make a new friend. Kazuma hadn't met too many Lupine's outside of Rei, so he wondered if Amane was as talented as she was in battle.
Smiling still, Kazuma continued speaking softly to Amane. "Are you a ninja? I haven't seen you around the office. I tend to some special tasks in Hitogakure. I direct fresh ranks around the office. It's a pretty cool job, but it doesn't pay. Haha." Kazuma chuckled and then pulled his headphone out of his ear. Whispering even quieter still, Kazuma said to Amane, "Yo u wanna hang out after class? I heard students get extra points for training across Houses. Maybe we can meet at Training Ground 9 after this boring class?" Kazuma was grinning wildly. He loved the idea of seeing someone elses skills, and more than that, he wanted to make a new friend. Kazuma hadn't met too many Lupine's outside of Rei, so he wondered if Amane was as talented as she was in battle.
Kouseki, Seiji • Chuunin • Sunagakure no Sato
Nara, Shiroyasha • Genin • Konohagakure no Sato
Tsukino, Himura • Genin • Kirigakure no Sato
Shuryo, Roku • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Akari, Kohaku • Genin • Iwagakure no Sato
Hyuuga, Isshin • Genin •Konohagakure no Sato
Kisama, Aichi • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Hyuuga, Kokou • Jounin • Konohagakure no Sato
Ishiguro, Shushiki • Genin • Kumogakure no Sato
Nara, Shiroyasha • Genin • Konohagakure no Sato
Tsukino, Himura • Genin • Kirigakure no Sato
Shuryo, Roku • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Akari, Kohaku • Genin • Iwagakure no Sato
Hyuuga, Isshin • Genin •Konohagakure no Sato
Kisama, Aichi • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Hyuuga, Kokou • Jounin • Konohagakure no Sato
Ishiguro, Shushiki • Genin • Kumogakure no Sato
Daydreaming In The Class Room
The courtyard buzzed with life, a symphony of laughter and movement as the first years reveled in the afternoon sun. Wang Lin, towering above most of his peers, found himself at the center of it all, his deep, resonant laughter carrying across the open space like a bell. The warmth of the sun kissed his bald head, and the scent of summer—freshly cut grass mingled with the saccharine sweetness of blooming flowers—filled the air, making the moment feel almost too perfect, like the lingering aftertaste of something forbidden.
His broad shoulders shook with mirth as he exchanged playful jabs with his friends, the easy camaraderie between them a stark contrast to the discipline that typically ruled their days. But even as he joined in the revelry, something tugged at the edge of his awareness, pulling his gaze upward toward the classroom windows. There, through the glass that reflected the courtyard’s splendor in fractured, shifting patterns, he caught sight of a familiar figure.
Amane sat at his desk, his posture more relaxed than Wang Lin was used to seeing. The younger boy’s white hair framed his face, casting shadows over eyes that seemed distant, unfocused—lost in a world beyond the classroom’s walls. From this distance, Amane’s usual intensity was softened, a rare glimpse of him without the weight of expectations pressing down on his shoulders. There was a stillness about him, a quiet that stood in stark contrast to the boisterous energy of the courtyard, as if he were caught between two worlds—the one outside, filled with light and life, and the one inside, where thoughts ran deeper than the surface revealed.
Wang Lin’s laughter faded, replaced by a quieter, more contemplative smile. He knew that look, the way Amane’s fingers tapped absently on the desk, the slight furrow in his brow that spoke of a mind far from the lesson at hand. Wang Lin had seen it before, in the rare moments when Amane allowed himself to drift, to daydream. It was a reminder that, despite his skill and the burden of being a fifth year in a sea of younger, less experienced students, Amane was still young, still searching for his place in the world.
A friend nudged Wang Lin, pulling him back into the present with a joke about the teacher’s droning voice, but the image of Amane lingered in his mind. Even as he joined in the laughter once more, a part of him remained with the younger boy, wondering what thoughts were playing out behind those distant eyes. In the splendor of the afternoon, surrounded by the warmth of friendship and the sweet smell of summer, Wang Lin felt a pang of something deeper, a recognition of the quiet strength in Amane’s solitude.
His broad shoulders shook with mirth as he exchanged playful jabs with his friends, the easy camaraderie between them a stark contrast to the discipline that typically ruled their days. But even as he joined in the revelry, something tugged at the edge of his awareness, pulling his gaze upward toward the classroom windows. There, through the glass that reflected the courtyard’s splendor in fractured, shifting patterns, he caught sight of a familiar figure.
Amane sat at his desk, his posture more relaxed than Wang Lin was used to seeing. The younger boy’s white hair framed his face, casting shadows over eyes that seemed distant, unfocused—lost in a world beyond the classroom’s walls. From this distance, Amane’s usual intensity was softened, a rare glimpse of him without the weight of expectations pressing down on his shoulders. There was a stillness about him, a quiet that stood in stark contrast to the boisterous energy of the courtyard, as if he were caught between two worlds—the one outside, filled with light and life, and the one inside, where thoughts ran deeper than the surface revealed.
Wang Lin’s laughter faded, replaced by a quieter, more contemplative smile. He knew that look, the way Amane’s fingers tapped absently on the desk, the slight furrow in his brow that spoke of a mind far from the lesson at hand. Wang Lin had seen it before, in the rare moments when Amane allowed himself to drift, to daydream. It was a reminder that, despite his skill and the burden of being a fifth year in a sea of younger, less experienced students, Amane was still young, still searching for his place in the world.
A friend nudged Wang Lin, pulling him back into the present with a joke about the teacher’s droning voice, but the image of Amane lingered in his mind. Even as he joined in the laughter once more, a part of him remained with the younger boy, wondering what thoughts were playing out behind those distant eyes. In the splendor of the afternoon, surrounded by the warmth of friendship and the sweet smell of summer, Wang Lin felt a pang of something deeper, a recognition of the quiet strength in Amane’s solitude.
CharactersShow
Aisu, Yurei | Hoshizora, Amane |
Kirigakure Genin | Hitogakure Genin |
|
|
[Sword Weapons] | [Yin Release] |
Teal | Mediumorchid |
- King of Cats
- Posts: 1174
- Joined: Mon Oct 09, 2023 9:03 pm
- Location: Detroit, MI
- User flair: "No matter how powerful you become, do not try to shoulder everything alone."
Daydreaming In The Class Room
The splendor that was going on outside of the classroom was truly surreal. One of the little girls who were following Wang Lin was frolicking in the courtyard, jumping happily around Wang Lin, and as she turned her body, she found herself looking right, square into Kazuma's lue eyes. It seemed that the jounin was day dreaming, and the little girl thought he was absolutely beautiful. With his shaggy white hair Kazuma captivated the young girl. She could only see Kazuma, and she couldn't help but wonder just what was on her hero's mind. He looked so cool, and vigilant. The little girl started in the window for a long minute, ceasing her saccharine play around Wang Lin.
The little girl saw Kazuma talking with Amane, and she couldn't help but be in awe by the strange boy He seemed truly ethereal to the girl, and she was lost in thought staring at them. That's when Wang Lin turned around and patted the girl on the head. She was struck from her glamour and focused more intently on the matter at hand, praising her elder.
The little girl saw Kazuma talking with Amane, and she couldn't help but be in awe by the strange boy He seemed truly ethereal to the girl, and she was lost in thought staring at them. That's when Wang Lin turned around and patted the girl on the head. She was struck from her glamour and focused more intently on the matter at hand, praising her elder.
Kouseki, Seiji • Chuunin • Sunagakure no Sato
Nara, Shiroyasha • Genin • Konohagakure no Sato
Tsukino, Himura • Genin • Kirigakure no Sato
Shuryo, Roku • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Akari, Kohaku • Genin • Iwagakure no Sato
Hyuuga, Isshin • Genin •Konohagakure no Sato
Kisama, Aichi • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Hyuuga, Kokou • Jounin • Konohagakure no Sato
Ishiguro, Shushiki • Genin • Kumogakure no Sato
Nara, Shiroyasha • Genin • Konohagakure no Sato
Tsukino, Himura • Genin • Kirigakure no Sato
Shuryo, Roku • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Akari, Kohaku • Genin • Iwagakure no Sato
Hyuuga, Isshin • Genin •Konohagakure no Sato
Kisama, Aichi • Harubushi • Heart Empire
Hyuuga, Kokou • Jounin • Konohagakure no Sato
Ishiguro, Shushiki • Genin • Kumogakure no Sato