Trial By Ice

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Valkier
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu May 28, 2015 3:45 am


Trial by Ice
The Stories and Studies of Aisu Naohiro

Thread Index
TitleCategoryChapter Index
An Empty VesselLonely[1]
Facing the DarknessLonely[1]
Surface TensionTraining: Suiton Ninjutsu[1] | [2] | [3]
The Walls That Keep UsTraining: Barrier Ninjutsu[1] | [2]
In Defiant ChallengeTraining: Taijutsu[1] | [2] | [3] | [4]
Illusion & DisillusionTraining: Genjutsu[1] | [2]
That Which Is WrittenTraining: Fuuinjutsu[1]

Last edited by Valkier on Tue Jul 14, 2020 4:32 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
Hachiya KotoriGeninIwagakure no Sato[Ukiyogenma Jinchuuriki] [H.N.K.][Gold] [#BF8040][Thread Tracker]

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Valkier
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu May 28, 2015 3:47 am

An Empty Vessel

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Events occurring at age seven, one year prior to Hiro's formal induction into Academy One.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -


Naohiro's eyes snapped open from the sudden knock at his door. The dim, pre-dawn glow from beyond the lone window in his room spoke of the time as his mind struggled to awaken. Naoshige had kept him up unusually late the previous night, pushing his training until exhaustion hit, and with precious few hours of sleep the world was still washed out and bleary to the young Aisu. He dragged himself up and extracted himself from the twist of bedsheets, trying to stifle that inner-voice that groaned and pleaded for an extra hour of respite. He stretched, and the knock at his door repeated itself.

"Come on. Up." Naoshige's muffled voice called in from the hallway. Hiro experienced a hint of satisfaction at its gruffness, meaning his father had had just as few hours of rest as himself. Somehow, that made it a little better. A little. Objecting only so far as allowing a yawn long enough to strain his jaw, the boy slipped on a robe and padded to the door of his room, slid it open, and left in search of a rejuvenating bath to begin the day.

Getting roused so early only ever meant one thing: A tedious day spent accompanying his parents to boring clan meetings, of getting dressed up and making appearances to people who wouldn't so much as spare him a glance. Part of him understood - being born into the Aisu meant bearing with a level of obligation and duty, and holding his discipline before the clan now would work in his favour in later years, but all the same... It was hardly going to be a day to get excited about.

He washed and dressed in good time, helping himself to leftovers of the meal that he'd been too tired to eat the previous evening, and was waiting patiently back in his room when Naoshige returned to check on him. The man nodded in approval when he saw his son, reassured that the days of dragging him by the feet to get ready in the mornings were long past. Wearing a perfectly folded deep blue hakama over a pristine white kimono, Hiro was the picture of reservedness and formality - just as he should be. His hair, sleek and clean, was carefully oiled and pinned up into a traditional rear top-knot. The boy was old enough to know what was expected of him; and so he knelt, back straight, eyes down and patient, until he was summoned.

Hours passed.

Still Hiro knelt, alone in his room. What began as a stiffness in his legs broke into pain, which in turn faded to numbness as he waited, and waited, and waited. He longed to stand up and stretch, to look outside or slip away... But on days like this, he knew better. To his family, formality was law, and not one that they would have their only child evade. It wouldn't be true to say that he was unaccustomed to the delay, however. Often children simply weren't welcome at clan events, yet there he'd be waiting just in case. Should a distant relative or influential clan member come asking after him, there he'd be.
He sighed.


The sun was high into the sky when noises from downstairs alerted him of some activity. Two sets - no, three sets - of footsteps. His parents had brought a guest after all. A faint, muffled voice that sounded like his father's wove it's way through the house, and he turned his head to the side, straining to hear more. Another voice, a woman's, but older and stronger than his mother's. He waited in anticipation, balancing on numb knees in the same position still, expecting the trio to move upstairs and find him. Gradually, however, the noise faded until once again he felt quite alone. Disappointment washed over him and he resigned himself to the wasted morning, slumping in his posture and wondering what else he could've achieved in the time spent sitting on his floor. Obviously, nothing was--

The screen-door to his room slid open abruptly and a stern pair of eyes saw him hurriedly twitch to correct the slump. He felt a flush begin to rise in his face - curse the paleness of the Aisu! - but remained as carefully still as he could. With his eyes still downcast he couldn't see who was standing on the threshold, but a sense of... unfamiliarity ran through him.

"Look at me." The woman spoke with the same voice he'd overheard before and an unexpected chill ran down his spine. He realised he'd been wrong; it wasn't just strength in her voice, but a fierceness, like a lioness taunting her prey. He drew his eyes upward to meet hers.
Belying her stature, his first impression of the woman was one of a commanding elder. She was short and thin, with hair of grey-streaked black held back behind a simple cloth headband. Her face was lined, almost grandmotherly, but as stern as if it were shaped from iron. For all her years, she still exuded a sense of vigour; he got the immediate impression that her mere presence somehow demanded compliance. When she said 'jump', no one would dare delay long enough to ask 'how high?'. He thought that most people would crumple and wilt under her gaze like a flower scorched under a desert sun, but.. something, whether his own defiance or an inspiration drawn from her, urged him to keep his back straight and face impassive. He wouldn't show fear. Her eyes seemed to pierce right through him as he waited, until...

...Until nothing. Her gaze didn't linger on him, but scanned his room as briefly as if she were sizing up the contents of a storage cupboard. A pair of small bells hanging from an ornament in the woman's hair tinkled as she turned away without so much as a change in expression, let alone another spoken word. A moment later and she was gone, leaving only a haunting echo of the faint ringing in his ears. Naoshige's figure appeared briefly in the doorway as he hurried after her and away down the corridor. Hiro was shocked; in that moment, under the woman's heavy gaze, he felt like he could've borne any judgement, any attack on his character or physical test. But to be completely disregarded, ignored without so much as a shrug? He felt it sting like a personal insult, as if he wasn't even worth the mysterious woman's time.

For the first time that day, he broke character and leapt to his feet. The first few steps made him stagger after so long sitting still, but a second later his feet were hammering down the corridor in pursuit of his father and the newcomer. He had to know who she was, why she was there-- and more importantly, what was so appalling about him that she wouldn't even spend the time or effort to make her thoughts known.
He flew along the corridor and took the stairs in two big steps, skidded through the ground floor hallway and hastily pulled open a screen door heading outside. It wasn't until he stepped onto the wooden walkway around the sizeable house that he caught sight of the pair ahead, walking away from him and towards the gate to the family property.

He slowed to a brisk walk and hopped down to the path to follow. His father turned his head to the side to look back at him, and Hiro could see that the pair were in heated conversation - although their words were lost on the wind as they left the property. Nor could he read his father's expression, but there certainly hadn't been any indication for him to stay put, and so he let his intrigue pull him along in pursuit. He reached the gate in short order and turned to follow, finding his father and the mysterious woman about twenty metres ahead of him and walking swiftly towards the gates into Kirigakure's Noble District. Although committed now to investigating, he wasn't without his caution, and carefully kept his distance; they could easily see him if they turned to check, but apparently the topic of their discussion was important enough to keep their immediate attention.


He followed, and followed. Gradually the quiet pathways of the Aisu compound gave way to picturesque city streets. He had spent his life in the district, but even he soon lost his way as he plodded after the pair ahead, the streets becoming a web of crossing alleys and boulevards that twisted and turned enough that he stopped paying attention to the buildings on either side as he hurried past. With no measure of time he began to wonder just how long he'd been walking behind them; a steady ache in his feet spoke of at least an hour or more on the hard slabs of the road. He glanced to the sky to try and gauge the sun's height, but even then he realised he hadn't known the time of day before he'd left. He shifted his gaze back to the pair - and panic gripped him as the corner they were traversing threatened to block them from sight. He broke into a jog, and then a run, to try and catch up. Just a little closer. I can't lose them now!. Suddenly, they too broke into a run, and the three clan members tore down the streets, two ahead and one desperately trying to catch up.

"Wait! Why are you running?"

He called out as a strange fear began setting in. The thought of losing them now seemed unbearable, yet no matter how fast he ran they always seemed fractionally faster, and every moment threatened to take them from sight. Step after hurried step he chased, pushing his sprint as fast as he could go. Shops and alleys passed now in a blur; market stalls, an inn, a butcher's shop, a few shadowed side paths, a tailor. Market, butcher, alleys, tailor, market, butcher, market, alleys.

Ahead, the figures disappeared around the eternal curve of the road. Frustration bloomed, and fear became anger as he skidded to a halt and finally stopped to look around him. Nothing made sense; No roads in the district were like this, none so long or... deserted. He realised the last fact with a shock - When did I last see someone other than those two? In the Aisu compound? No, even the gates were empty... Did we pass the gates? Anger broke into simple bewilderment for the young boy, turning to look back the way he'd come and seeing for the first time how the street was the same bland, repetitive pattern of buildings and side-roads, beyond which there seemed to be inexplicably identical streets. Finally, he fell to his knees, panting in exertion from the run and feeling very much alone, helpless.
Don't give up. He reminded himself of Kirigakure's creed; A ninja recognizes no limitations. He must embrace fear, turning it to his side. Turn it into a boon to serve you, not a flaw that hinders you. Still sucking in air, he stood up with renewed conviction.

"Where are you?!" He shouted, his voice demanding and loud. "Stop this!"

His words hung in the air of the empty street, greeted only by silence. He breathed in and tried again, louder. "I said--"

"Why?"
The reply was a simple question, spoken quietly and calmly. He spun around to face the speaker - and there stood the woman, as casual as if she'd been there all along and he'd simply failed to see her. A faint smile creased her lips, like she was finding the entire situation amusing. That threatened to bring back his anger, and he spluttered in response.

"Wh-... What do you mean, why? What are you doing to me?" His mind quickly jumped to the conclusion that this was probably a test orchestrated by his father, one of many he'd experienced so far in his life.

She stared at him impassively, pausing long enough before speaking to add gravity to her words.

"Your father seemed to think you were ready. Was he wrong, boy? Do you not want to learn?"

"Learn what?" He flared, stepping towards her as he felt the passion in his words. He'd been learning everything he could for years already; he always jumped readily into his studies, never arguing or protesting, even when the topics grew stale. But this was unlike any test he'd ever been subjected to. "This isn't a lesson! This isn't teaching me anything! If you want to teach--"

"Wrong, boy." She interrupted without even raising her voice; the sternness in her tone was sufficient to cut through his rant and rebuff him. "I am teaching you. Today you learn humility. Something that all clan-children need in heavy doses, especially if they seek to learn."

That gave him pause. Humility? What good is that? As an Aisu, pride had been drilled into him from his earliest days. It had become his foundation, his reason to push himself and excel. Pride was the reason he rose early in the mornings and bowed low to his elders, the reason he dressed in finery and studied for endless hours. Although unable to understand, he began to feel a grudging respect for the woman's directness that helped calm him down. His voice was measured and careful when he next spoke.

"I don't need humility. I'm already set to learn. Just because I am proud of who I am, it doesn't mean I can't handle your lessons."

"No? Pride is the bane of all of us, boy. It is pride that drives men to madness trying to prove themselves, pride that divides us and tests us. Pride is the blueprint of war, the pedestal we all scramble to climb. Humility grounds us."

She moved suddenly in a blur. One moment Hiro was standing and watching the woman, and the next he was lying on the paved floor with his chest aflame from a sudden punch.

"Pride tells us we know how to learn, that we are full of knowledge enough to face any task. Humility shows us the truth. If you are to learn, Ice-child, this is your first lesson." She approached and stared down at him sprawled on the ground, and her smile grew just a fraction.

"Be humbled. Know that you know nothing of the world. Find me, and come to me as an empty vessel. Because how can I fill you with knowledge if you already know so much?"


Abruptly she turned, and the bells in her hair tinkled with the movement. Suddenly, she was gone, and the street around him erupted in movement and noise. Hiro leapt up from his sprawl on the hard ground as people flooded into view all around him, some shooting him odd looks and frowns. The pattern of buildings and alleys was broken; he was free from the woman's illusion at last. He stood for several minutes contemplating her words, before eventually turning and walking slowly down the road, staring at the floor in thought.


Lost within the nearby crowd, Naoshige smiled and turned to walk away. The brief encounter reminded him of his own time spent training under Hisako; he couldn't quite say that fondness accompanied the memories, but the old woman would certainly drive his son forward as much as he himself had been, many years prior.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
Hachiya KotoriGeninIwagakure no Sato[Ukiyogenma Jinchuuriki] [H.N.K.][Gold] [#BF8040][Thread Tracker]

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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Fri May 29, 2015 6:58 am

Surface Tension: I

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Events occurring at age ten, during the years of Naohiro's ninja education at Academy One.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -


"I failed today."

Naohiro sat cross-legged on the floor of his father's study, looking troubled. Tightly wrapped bandages coated both of his arms from the elbow down, whiter even than the boy's skin with the exception of numerous faint red blotches that had begun seeping through the dressing. Like most in their large house, the room was overly formal, and its oppressiveness pushed down on Hiro and added to his feeling of inadequacy. Plain floorboards met walls of glossy dark hardwood panels, broken only by bookcases, wall-hangings and ornate cabinets. A luxurious woollen rug of deep green covered the central floorspace - none of that working-class tatami or bamboo in here, thank-you! - which, in addition to the lack of windows and thus natural light, seemed to grant the room a perpetually heavy and serious atmosphere. Nevertheless, it was Naoshige's favourite hideaway and where he spent most of his off-duty time nowadays, usually engrossed in old tomes or discussing clan politics behind the heavy closed doors. The quiet swish of brush-strokes ceased when the boy spoke, and his father looked up from his parchment to address the situation.

"What happened?" He asked simply. Despite a reputation for sternness, he rarely ever raised his voice, and now watched his son with calm eyes.

Hiro bowed his head to the floor out of habit when he was spoken to before sitting back up and meeting his father's gaze.

"At the academy today, we were doing defensive exercises. I was doing really well at the start - I didn't let a single kunai get anywhere near me! - but then the instructors had the whole class throw senbon. It was too much." He raised his bloodied arms in evidence. "I could only deflect a few at a time, and so..." he broke eye-contact and looked down, ashamed, "I just cowered, father. I curled up on the floor and hid behind my arms, waiting for it to stop."

Naoshige frowned in concern. It was very rare to see Hiro so disheartened; he was a capable boy, perhaps even more talented than most, but the weight of his station was obviously beginning to affect him. He should be - and was, usually - very proud of his family name, but he had yet to learn that living with pride also meant being able to withstand the fall that often came with it. He pushed his chair back and rose from behind his desk, set down his calligraphy brush and walked around to kneel in front of his son. He set a reassuring hand on Hiro's shoulder and managed a friendly smile.

"And how did the other students manage with that test?" He asked. Exposing students to unbeatable situations was a common exercise in the academy. There would be many similar scenarios designed to test and assess a child's actions against dire odds before they would be allowed to graduate. Hiro would know that, of course, but the fact that a scenario was almost impossible to beat would be little consolation to someone who felt humiliated by it.

"They... Some did really well," Hiro countered, a hint of envy in his voice, "there's this Toukai girl, she kinda... changed somehow, covered herself in a wing or something and fired needles from it to block the thrown ones." His voice grew more excited as he thought back to his successful classmates. "One boy made a mud wall and just stood there, completely safe and pleased as anything, and then one boy used taijutsu, he had a kunai and was so fast that he dodged most of the senbon and just blocked the few that mattered... But I couldn't do anything like that." He hung his head again, as if expecting to get scolded.

"And the rest?" Naoshige pushed, and Hiro hesitated before giving a small shrug.

"I guess lots of the others failed too." He admitted, "some didn't even try, but even those who did were forced down like me or ended up trying to run for cover."

Naoshige nodded, satisfied. Although the class obviously had a few strong young students who could defend themselves, he'd been correct in thinking that they were the minority. "This is a good thing, Naohiro. Now we know that you have a weakness, we can work to overcome it." He reached a hand out to his son's chin and lifted his head to look into his eyes, reassuring the boy. "Let's go outside. I think I can show you something that might help." And that was it - suddenly, the troubled look in Hiro's eyes vanished and was replaced by excitement.

"Really?!" He perked up, breaking the mood of his self-pity and leaping to his feet, only pausing to let out a victorious "Yes!" as he ran to the door and hurried outside. With a chuckle, Naoshige followed at a more reasonable pace.


In the courtyard that sat at the rear of their property, the would-be ninja faced his father. The latter stood straight with his hands held formally behind his back, much like how a teacher might appear when lecturing a class.

"Your teachers tell me you've already learnt how to use nature transformations in your jutsu, and have an affinity for Suiton to boot," Naoshige said, "That means you've probably inherited the Aisu's potential, and one day soon you'll be able to do things unlike anyone else in your class. Hyouton can provide an incredible defence once you master it. But for now, we can work with Suiton. Just remember that before long you won't even need jutsu like this one. Watch carefully now."

He brought his hands forward to created a quick series of seals and inhaled deeply, before spitting forth a stream of Suiton chakra which erupted into a concave umbrella shape a short distance ahead of him. Hiro watched hungrily; although it wasn't as thorough a defence as the doton-mounds he'd seen earlier that day, this was something that he could do - and moreover, he soon realised that it didn't confine him nearly as much while still providing a reasonable way to block incoming attacks. Perhaps relishing the chance to show off to his son, Naoshige repeated the technique twice more at various angles to further demonstrate it's versatility. Finally, he lowered his hands from the seals he'd been holding and turned to Hiro. "Your turn," he encouraged, "try it out!"

Hiro emulated his father as best he could, coupling the demonstration to his own existing knowledge of Suiton techniques. He bought his hands together to form a ram seal and closed his eyes to focus on the task of drawing and moulding chakra. He felt it begin to build and bubble within his chest as he inhaled, then switched from ram to boar, to snake to rat, and then unleashed his first attempt at the jutsu; water spewed forth from his mouth in a trickle and splashed uselessly on the ground a metre from his feet.

"Ah!--" He managed, surprised, before Naoshige burst into laughter.

"Ahahah- Sorry, sorry!" the Jounin grinned and tried to regain his composure; as much fun as he was having, he was there to help, after all. "Try again," he finally managed and succeeded in hiding his smile, "try hold it for longer before you release the jutsu, be quicker with the seals. Think pressure!"

As bidden, Hiro repeated the technique. He fumbled between the seals as quickly as his novice hands could manage while breathing in and drawing the chakra he needed. This time, the technique manifested in a strong fountain, erupting form his mouth like a jet and, as intended, formed into a rough umbrella-shape before him. Naoshige moved to clap, but a moment later the jutsu failed and splashed to the floor between the two.

"Make the chakra denser, thicker. Your control is good, but it needs to be more.. solid! It's gotta stop whatever is being thrown at you from reaching you, remember?"

On his third attempt, Hiro achieved success. The umbrella blossomed from the watery jet expelled from his chest, creating a sturdy hemispherical shell between himself and his father, with him on the concave side. Even when he finished the technique and released the seals the watery defence remained; an effective cover that he could hide behind. His father tested it suddenly by launching a kunai towards his son - thankfully, it stopped dead upon striking the umbrella before falling to the ground with a loud clink.

This, however, was not enough for Naoshige. My son, he thought, will go the extra mile. Leaping to the side with a speed that would no doubt make him appear as a mere blur to the boy, Naoshige whipped his hands together and launched a new barrage at Hiro from an angle unprotected by the barrier.

"Ninpou: Rain of a thousand needles!" The Jounin inhaled deeply, arced his back, and then spat into the air. Suddenly, the sky turned black. Hundreds upon hundreds of tiny senbon launched from his mouth and surged upwards before arcing down directly towards the boy. Hiro's eyes followed the rain of metal, glimmering as each needle caught the sun and turned down to face the ground, falling faster and faster, every one of them capable of piercing his skin. Naoshige tensed as he watched his son, preparing himself to jump forward and intercept his own attack should Hiro fail to defend himself.

Naohiro hesitated only a moment.

"Suiton: Umbrella Defense!" He called, inhaling, sealing, exhaling. Moments before the salvo of needles descended upon him, he spat his newly-mastered umbrella defence upwards and over his head, right into the path of the attack. Those that hit the layer of water bounced harmlessly away or became lodged while the remainder fell safely away from the covered boy.

This time Naoshige did clap, and Hiro's face broke into pleasure at the success - and at his father's praise.

"Well done!" The Jounin congratulated his son, walking forward and clapping him on the shoulder with pride.

"Now, help me clear this mess up." Hiro's smile vanished instantly as he reviewed the carnage of the last attack - a thousand needles lay strewn about the courtyard, and he knew all too well that his father wouldn't let him rest until each one was accounted for. Bloody great.

Jutsu TrainedShow
*Umbrella Defense
D-Rank Suiton Ninjutsu
After performing a set of seals, the user will be able to create a solid, yet watery defense. Once the seals are performed, the user will spray water created from the inside of their chest through their mouth. Once the water is expelled, it will form sort of an umbrella shape that is concave to the user and about two meters in diameter. This defense can be formed in any direction the user can spit, up to two meters away. Once created, it lasts for three posts before falling lifelessly to the ground.

Word Count: 1717: ~905/650 for training.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
Hachiya KotoriGeninIwagakure no Sato[Ukiyogenma Jinchuuriki] [H.N.K.][Gold] [#BF8040][Thread Tracker]

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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu Jun 11, 2015 2:36 pm

The Walls That Keep Us: I

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- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -


"Barrier-style ninjutsu. Simple in theory, difficult in mastery. But, if you can achieve it, it's an irreplaceable asset." Hisako lectured, speaking slowly and punctuating by way of a wagging finger. Standing before her, Naohiro got the distinct impression that her little speech had been oft repeated to many a student; he already knew a number of barrier techniques, for one thing. Thankfully, he also knew better to raise an eyebrow or complain to his new mentor, as he still found her incredibly intimidating. Even if she was an old woman who liked the sound of her own voice more than she did her young charge.

"Today you'll be practising one of the fundamentals, a simple plane barrier that is used as the basis for many later techniques." She continued, and the boy realised with a spark of annoyance that the Aisu elder wasn't even paying him any direct attention. Eyes vacant as if lost in thought or simply bored during her recitation, she droned on, "The technique is known as the Wall, and requires precise control to maintain. Behold."

Finally focusing on him, likely to ensure that her lesson wasn't being wasted on one who wasn't listening, she shifted her hands to present a series of seals at chest-height, steadily forming one after another so that the boy could learn the sequence. Afterward, with a surprisingly energetic "Ha-!" she thrust forward two open palms into the space between them - and from her outstretched hands a pale blue barrier snapped into existence. She then drew her hands apart methodically and the wall of chakra grew with the distance moved, before finally pushing out an additional two feet to form a sturdy screen.

"Now, try and shatter it. Give it your best punch." She met Hiro's eyes and folded her arms behind the protective jutsu. He moved quickly to follow the instruction, eager to get to try the technique himself. Drawing a fist back, he charged towards the chakra-screen and pushed his whole weight behind a solid, face-on smack that resonated throughout his body and set his teeth on edge as it hit. Hisako smirked as the boy's strongest attempt bounced feebly away from the shimmering wall and left him sprawled on the ground at its base.

"It would take an exceptional physical fighter to break through one of these with force, as you can no doubt see. Blunt strikes like that fly-punch of yours just aren't effective. I would say that using a kunai to try and pierce the veil would work better, but in your case..." her smirk grew in condescension and she shrugged, "better leave it to someone with more brawn" she suggested bluntly. "Now you try."

Hiro scrambled to his feet and eagerly set about moulding the chakra he expected to use, inwardly trying to suppress excitement - this technique, which took his above-average skill in chakra control and converted it directly into strength, was perfect for him. Having trained with ninjutsu for several years already, the former was a talent he was fond of practising, whereas his strength-of-arm wasn't quite up to standard. Mimicking his mentor, he drew chakra and formed it into the familiar barrier prerequisite as his hands fell into the same series of seals that he had just witnessed, ending on the monkey. Just as Hisako had done, he pushed his hands forward and watched with glee as the technique took form, expanding from the rectangle formed between thumb and index-fingers on each hand and widening in response to his motions. He could feel within him the chakra pouring into the technique as he pulled it larger and larger, until by withdrawing his hands he completed the motion and saw it snap into its final position. Through its pale blue haze, he saw Hisako nod with satisfaction.

"Well done. You may have the strength of a flea, but it seems you're not totally useless." She stepped up to his barrier and, with a sudden flick of her wrist, struck is solidly; and it shattered into a hundred ethereal fragments that were soon lost to the eye. "Again. Keep them coming."

He complied, time and time again as his freshly-formed barriers were obliterated by hands that you could be forgiven for thinking were frail. Each incarnation of the jutsu lasted only a second before the old woman was upon it, through it, and waiting for the next. Hiro tired quickly, and by the time Hisako was satisfied he felt almost ready to collapse - but at the same time, immensely satisfied. Although the training wasn't as oppressive as he'd expected it to be, he found that his final barriers were forming substantially quicker than those he'd started with, fast enough even to be of use during heated combat.

Jutsu TrainedShow
*[Wall]
D-Ranked Defensive Ninjutsu
After doing the needed hand seals, which ends on the monkey seal, the user shifts their hands vertically, then draws them out forming a square with their index fingers and thumbs. Drawing them apart from each other, a flat barrier forms from this exact spot. The barrier then continues to grow as long as the user keeps drawing their arms out. Once they stop, it grows an additional 2 feet in every direction. This barrier can take up to 4 strength before shattering, otherwise it lasts for 4 posts.


Word Count: 794/650.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
Hachiya KotoriGeninIwagakure no Sato[Ukiyogenma Jinchuuriki] [H.N.K.][Gold] [#BF8040][Thread Tracker]

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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu Jun 11, 2015 3:11 pm

The Walls That Keep Us: II

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- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -


"Very good." Hisako clapped her hands to bring their previous exercise to a halt and allow Naohiro a short breather. "Your barrier techniques are impressive, I have to say. I think perhaps you have a penchant for hiding safely out of harms way!" He was taken aback by unexpected attack on his courage from this woman he still barely knew, and instantly wanted to correct her - but she was already continuing, thinking aloud.
"I wonder... You're good at making barriers, but have you ever needed to dispel them?" She fixed him with a questioning look.

"I don't.. Er, that is, no." He shifted his gaze away in embarrassment. The logical and ideal end to any barrier was it being dispelled by its caster, but so far it had been a skill he had yet to need; while in training, his barriers had always been broken by his teacher or simply left to fade on their own to see how long he could maintain them for.

"I thought as much," she rolled her eyes in exasperation, "and I suppose you've been taught by your father so far? That boy never was one to teach the basics... Well, nothing for it. You should still have enough strength today to learn it. Form a new barrier, here, any-type will do."

He hurried to follow the command and, after a series of seals and a moment of concentration, thrust his hands forward to create a simple wall barrier - much the same as he'd been doing for the last few hours already. This time, however, Hisako didn't move to shatter it right away and instead let it linger as she turned to her student.

"Now listen, Naohiro: These barriers are formed entirely of your chakra, meaning even after the technique is finished, they remain attuned to you - they can still react and respond to your signals. Dispelling them is simple, let's see if you can manage it with your first attempt. Focus on your barrier, picture the chakra within responding to your stimulus, and create the kai seal. If your focus is correct, and your seal true, the barrier should cease to be."

Hiro nodded silently and set his eyes upon the wall of shimmering pale blue chakra that stood stationary before him. Under Hisako's gaze he concentrated, forming a mental visualisation of his creation in his head and focusing his energies into it, and then formed the release trigger with its verbal counterpart: "Kai!"
Almost immediately, the static mass of chakra distended as if it were a balloon full of water that had been pushed from all sides at once, and right afterwards began to dissipate harmlessly. No cracks or shatters of the sort that caused him to wince or set him on edge, just a simple... fading of energy. Hisako clapped her hands together again and nodded.

"Well done, boy, that's how it's done. We'll make a fine ninja of you yet."


Jutsu TrainedShow
*[Spent]
E-Ranked Supportive Ninjutsu
By doing a single seal, after a barrier has fully formed, the user forces the chakra inside any one of their own barriers to dissipate, making the barrier fade away.

Word Count: 490/400.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Tue Jun 16, 2015 3:31 am

Surface Tension: II

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Events occurring at age ten, during the years of Naohiro's ninja education at Academy One.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -


After an hour or more of recovering endless piles of needles that had been scattered during their previous training, Naohiro felt recovered enough to seek out his father once more. It was rare to have him available during the day - the Jounin was revered as a skilled shinobi and often away on one assignment or another - and the boy was keen to press on with his training given the opportunity. From the wide paved courtyard directly behind their house, he took the eastern path and found Naoshige in an adjoining section of their gardens, standing before the small ornate shrine that sat in the southeast corner of the grounds with his hands on his hips. He was in conversation with one of the house servants - maids and stewards, really, as he and his immediate family were famously abhorrent of slavery - but soon waved them away once he saw his son approaching.

"Eager for more already, huh? I guess that's only natural," his face curved into one of his rare smiles. Although he only rarely joined Naohiro to train, he secretly relished those opportunities and would rarely turn his son down; not only was it a chance to spend time with his son, he still enjoyed the practice and training himself as much as he had done as a much younger man. "All right, then. I've had something in mind for you, and I think this mornings training showed me that you're ready." He beckoned Naohiro over as he left the path and walked out on to the water of one of the small ponds that dotted the peaceful gardens in front of the family shrine. He stood in the middle and turned to face his son as he approached.

"Earlier we covered a strong defensive ninjutsu, but the most versatile ninja are the best ninja. You'll be vastly more capable once you can boast a strong offense as well as a defense. What I'm going to show you is a simple but powerful technique known as the rising water cutter."

Naohiro took a few tentative steps onto the surface of the water to make sure his water-walking jutsu was established, and then hurried into position to face his father across the length of the pond. Once he was ready, Naoshige began, weaving seals one after another and making sure that his hands were visible to his son. The water at the Jounin's feet began to stir, and then at once burst forth into a thin but powerful wave which soared into the air, shot out from his position and tore across the pond.
Hiro's jaw dropped. His father thought he could do that?! Even from his position several metres away from the wave he could feel the intense pressure of the technique as it sliced like a blade through the air. Excitement began to well up in the young student-ninja, and as soon as his father's jutsu dissipated he stepped up to try it himself.

"This is what I've been waiting for! Just watch, father, I won't stop until I can match your jutsu!" He squared his posture and closed his eyes, forming a preliminary handseal and seeking deep within himself for his stores of chakra in the way that was taught to students in the academy. From witnessing its power he knew already that it would take more energy than he was used to spending in his techniques, and so he drank deep of his bodily energy and began the careful, meticulous moulding that shaped it into a suiton technique. Several moments passed before he felt prepared enough to open his eyes, but his hands were already at work, mimicking his father's seals as best he could. He reached the final seal and held it steady while he released the torrent of energy into the water at his feet. It began to stir, churning in on itself for a fraction of a second before erupting upwards in a spray of water that soaked him in an instant, before the technique span away from him and disappeared; it hardly the cutting wave that he had been planning, but it was only his first attempt. He returned immediately to seek more chakra to try again, until his father chipped in.

"Your problem there was your timing," he said, and drew Naohiro's eyes back to himself to show him the sequence of seals a second time. "Each seal has to be performed at the right instant, and held for just enough time to react with your chakra. If you're too fast--" he demonstrated, and water sprouted upwards nearby and splashed uselessly over both of them in much the same way as before. "Be careful with your ox as well, make sure you get the angle of your fingers precise. Absolutely perpendicular, now."

On his second attempt, Hiro nailed his seals with ease, and the technique manifested in a surge of water that coursed away from him across the pond and directly towards his father, although it resembled a more conventional wave rather than the thin, cutting attack that was his goal. Moving in a blur, Naoshige countered the incoming water with his own flawless cutter, and Hiro's half-formed attack was severed in twain to wash safely aside.

"Much better, you're getting there quickly," he guided, his words encouraging, "you have the power of the technique, but you need to focus it more. When you release it, think of the sheer pressure it needs to keep as it moves - the cutting is an exercise in chakra control, not strength. Know that your technique will cut, not push, like a sword through the water."

Hiro nodded, absorbing his father's advice. A little more! His hands flew through the seals and he drank again of his chakra, preparing the technique as before, but this time infusing it with every ounce of control that he could manage; nary a single drop of energy was beyond his influence, he told himself, and unleashed the jutsu. It began with a ripple, and then surged up- and out-wards in a furious cascade of water from just in front of his feet. A thin wave, with a razor-sharp edge that glinted in the sun, tore directly towards Naoshige. The Jounin smoothly side-stepped the jutsu and turned to watch as the wave continued on, eventually dissipating a few metres before hitting the family shrine.

"Brilliant! I knew you could do it. But count yourself lucky that you didn't have the range on that one!" He grinned, but Hiro heard the serious undertone in his voice.

"Of course, father. I'm sorry. I'll be more careful."

"Good, good. Because you're not done yet. It's one thing to perform this technique while standing on water, but it'll be useless for you unless you can do it on dry land. The courtyard is yours for today, Naohiro - try not to mess it up! Come and find me when you've mastered the technique, and don't get discouraged if it takes some time." He nodded to his son before taking his leave, no doubt back towards the house in search of some dry clothes.

Hiro quickly left his position on the pond and shook as much water from his soaked clothes as he could before hurrying back over to the courtyard where he'd been training earlier. He caught a glimpse of his mother's watching face from the kitchen as he assumed a ready stance at the east-end of the paved area, and paused in his training long enough to give her a quick, respectful bow. As before, he began to search out and draw on his inner supply of chakra before moving his hands from one seal into the next, shape by practised shape as he prepared the technique - and then unleashed it expectantly.

Nothing happened.

He stood perplexed for a short while, contemplating the surprising result; Only minutes before he'd been able to do it on the pond, so how much harder could it be here? The lack of water at his feet was an extra hurdle that he hadn't learnt to jump just yet. Maybe all it takes is an extra surge of chakra? The water is still there, it's just deeper, more spread out in the earth, all I need is the extra energy to find and gather it, and bring it back to me for the jutsu... He nodded to himself at the logical deduction, and for the fifth time formed a seal and began searching for chakra. But no matter how hard he tried, only a trickle of energy remained to him; he'd hit his wall of stamina, and try as he might, he just couldn't gather enough energy for even the most basic of his techniques. Suddenly his strain gave way to dizziness, and he toppled backwards, falling first onto his behind and then his back. There he remained, spread-eagled on the courtyard floor, for some time until the world stopped spinning. Reluctantly he had to admit that he wouldn't be able to train any more that day.

On his second day, he exhausted himself with just three attempts at the new technique, each time digging deeper and deeper into his wells of chakra for extra power, stretching his capacity until his body tingled with pain. The result was worth it, as by his final attempt he succeeded in producing a large spout of water from underneath his feet which showered down upon him as he laughed. Although the jutsu wasn't achieved, still, he knew then that he had forced his way through the main obstacle, and could now once again focus on refining the actual wave of water.

He completed the training on his third day, and so eager was he that it was done before even the sun had finished rising over the wall of their house compound. By overloading his technique with chakra, he had succeeded in finding and drawing upwards all the water he needed, and then by walking himself through his father's initial advice repeated his training step by step until the rising water cutter was perfected, and was indistinguishable from Naoshige's very first display.

Jutsu TrainedShow
*Rising Water Cutter
C-Rank Suiton Ninjutsu
By performing the correct seals, the user will transfer Suiton chakra into the ground and cause a thin wave of water to flow towards a target. The water is powerful enough to split open earth, flowing upwards at a peak height of six feet, a width of a half a foot at a speed and force equal to the average of the user’s ninjutsu and control, with a maximum of eight. With this technique they are able to change the course of the wave up to three times with a maximum shift of ninety degrees. The one foot thick wave travels a total of fifteen feet before dissipating.


Word Count: 1697, ~1198/1050 for training.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Mon Jun 29, 2015 6:05 am

Facing the Darkness

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Events beginning on Hiro's twelfth birthday.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -


Naohiro buried his face further into the pillows, pulling the fabric tighter and tighter around him. Still he heard the moans from the next room. There were occasional silences when his father drifted into a restful slumber, but they were always short-lived. Sooner or later, the heart-wrenching cries always began again. Tears welled up in the eyes he'd squeezed shut underneath the wall of pillows, but try as he might, they too didn't cease.

Why?!

The question bounced around the inside of his head, and probably would have kept him awake all night even without constant sounds of his father's suffering. Often it was followed by "how?!", because he simply couldn't grasp it; How could Aisu Naoshige, one of the most skilled ninja in the nation and a paragon of the clan, be reduced to a helpless, sobbing shadow of a man, wasting away in an isolated room while his family watched on and listened? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't real! A disease, no matter how horrible, shouldn't hold such power over a man like his father. He was stronger than that! This was a man who had become a Jounin by the time he was twenty! A man who the clan was expecting to make Bannin within another year!

Except that right now, skilled shinobi or not, Aisu Naoshige was little more than a delirious husk fighting for his life in a way his son never would have expected. The affliction had struck fast, and it had struck hard. Two days ago he had been fine, returning home from a mission in some small Kozuke province village. A little tired perhaps, maybe even a little paler than usual, but otherwise as strong and as full of life as ever. And then just-like-that, he wasn't.

The rash came the following morning. Skin, now turned snow-white, was lit up by angry red blemishes, as bright as drops of fresh blood all the way from head to toe. In those first few hours he'd still been conscious, and spoke of how a weakness had entered his bones and clouded his mind - even sitting up strained him more than he could bear. The fever followed soon after, and Naohiro had been forced to keep his distance and watch as his father slipped away into a wakeless state that grew worse by the hour. Sweat poured from his burning-hot skin and drenched the sheets of the bed, and he tossed and turned until his body didn't have the strength to do so any longer. And then he moaned. Senseless, wordless wails escaped his lips as the fever-dreams set in and carried him away into endless reams of nightmares.
Sometimes, Naohiro could make out the occasional word. His own name, or his mother's. Cries to "run!" or "hide!" were almost as common as pleas for help, but never more than those individual words, and still Naoshige failed to wake.

By now, the boy almost wished that his father would give up and let go. Guilt filled him every time the thought entered his head, but when it did it stayed there. This wasn't any way for a man to suffer - just let it end, let him rest, let him die. The pain he himself felt inside every time he heard a moan only made it all worse, but he couldn't leave - this was his father! The strongest man he knew. He didn't want him to die, of course - who would?! - but if it was going to happen, he wanted it to be over sooner rather than later. Watching and hearing him linger on in pain just a few metres away in the next room was as much as the young Aisu child could bear.

And so he buried his head deeper, drew the pillow tighter, and sobbed.

It took three days for the rash to begin to fade, and the fever to start to ease. The visiting doctors spoke from behind masks and closed doors that Naoshige was incredibly lucky to survive, and everyone else was lucky that the affliction hadn't spread. He hadn't woken up, still, but he'd finally begun to rest easy. They moved him and burnt the bedding, told Naohiro and his mother to watch for signs of the sickness, and then left. The boy and his mother embraced, part relieved and part worried; would Naoshige ever wake up? Would he ever come back to them?

It was another two days before he finally awakened. The last remnants of the fever still left a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and Naohiro knelt next to his sleeping form to place a damp cloth upon his father's brow. Just as the linen touched his skin, Naoshige opened his eyes.

"Dad?" Naohiro jumped when he noticed, sudden excitement filling him. "Dad! You finally woke up!" He leapt to his feet and started for the door, hoping to tell his mother right away.

"Naohiro? Is that you?" The weakness in his father's voice made him stop, and he turned back to sit back down at his father's side. His mother would be back to check on him in a moment, anyway - she'd barely left his side since the doctors had told them they could be in the same room.

"It's me, father, I'm here. How are you feeling?" He reached over and took one of his father's cold, clammy hands in both of his own. The elder twitched at the touch, but then shifted his hand and gripped as firmly as his weakened body would allow.

"I was just dreaming of you, Naohiro." He smiled faintly, and stared upwards at the ceiling. "It's so dark... You should be in bed. It must be so late." He spoke slowly, feebly, but didn't let go of his son's hand. For a fleeting moment he sounded just like the man Hiro remembered.

Naohiro felt an icy chill run through him. What? The shutters on the windows were closed, true, but through them shone bright rays of sunshine which arced across the room and splayed patterns on the floor. It was a little past noon.

"It's so dark," Naoshige repeated, mumbling as he slowly drifted back into a slumber, "so dark I can't see anything..."

Hiro hunched forward over his father and shuddered in grief as the realisation sunk in. Fresh tears appeared in his eyes. How foolish he'd been to presume that no more could be shed.

Just when I'd let myself hope...

"Mm. You're right. It's still the middle of the night," he lied, and clutched his father's hand tighter.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu Jul 02, 2015 7:01 am

Surface Tension: III

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Events occurring at age eleven, during Naohiro's earlier years as a Genin.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -


"You're familiar with the standard clone technique, I expect?"

"Of course, father." The boy nodded, always eager to impress that which he had already achieved.

"Good. That's an invaluable technique, which many a skilled ninja have used to great effect, even as Jounin, far beyond the days when they learnt it. But, you might be surprised to learn that it's not the only way to create clones. Watch now." Making sure his hands were visible to his son, Naoshige began a complicated series of seals one after another while muttering a technique under his breath. At once the water to either side of him began to stir, gathering and shooting upwards before quickly coalescing into humanoid forms. A moment more and their features completed, and now three identical copies of Naoshige stood before his son, two created entirely from water drawn from the pond at his feet.

Naohiro jumped in a mixture of surprise and excitement; He'd heard of elemental clone techniques, but to see one performed in-front of him - and by his father, no less - was unexpected. He still thought of clones as little more than illusions, and hadn't researched them enough to learn otherwise. Luckily, Naoshige's wisdom accounted for that as he continued his speech.

"Assuming you were paying attention, you just saw how the clones took form - from water. In case you hadn't worked it out yet, that's what makes elemental clones so effective: They possess real, physical bodies. Anyone who thinks they're just tricks to distract the eye, like normal bunshin, will be in for a painful surprise." To demonstrate, the Jounin lashed out sideways with an arm and smashed it into the head of one of his clones, which erupted in a fountain of water from the point of impact before splashing back to the pond.

"I would have you master this technique, Naohiro. It might seem rudimentary, but understand that an extra pair or two of hands at your side can often turn a battle around completely. What's more, these particular clones can actually perform jutsu on their own, even if they lack physical strength. Did you see how the technique was performed?"

"I did, father. I'll try it now."

"Good," his father nodded, then slowly turned away, "You should achieve this today. Find me when you do." With that, he began walking slowly back towards the house. Naohiro watched him go quietly and waited until he was back inside the house before actually beginning the training. His earlier practise with suiton had taught him much, particularly of the stamina needed to draw the water one needed from the ground - or water, in this case - and of the control to keep it in shape, but each technique needed its own refinements.


He began forming seals and moulding his chakra, pulling forth enough bodily energy to draw the needed water to create clones equal to his own size. Although he was quickly growing used to the strain of such-ranked jutsu, they still exhausted him after multiple attempts. And he wants me to learn this all in one day? That's not possible! Leaving the complaint unspoken, he continued manipulating the chakra he'd built up. Feeling it react to his handseals and course through his body at will never disappointed, and for a moment longer than necessary he held it - it felt like life, sweet and full of energy, until he completed the jutsu.
A single malformed shape oozed from the pond-water, thick and heavy as if made from oil. It assumed a humanoid shape but failed to coalesce, and collapsed soon after resulting in a small wave that washed over the Genin's feet.

"This shouldn't be that hard..." Nao mused to himself quietly. "Plenty of other Genin can use elemental clones, and if father thought I could perfect them in one day..." he trailed off, contemplating his technique. Obviously, treating the jutsu as if it were just the generic clone technique would be wrong, as it was clearly more advanced... "Or is it?"

He tried again, this time picturing the chakra within him in the same way as one would for the conventional clone technique. At the last moment, as the chakra took shape he felt the pent-up potential of its energy, he thought of it swirling and churning within him and infused it with the suiton nature-manipulation that he had long ago mastered. A quick repeat of the handseals, and again the jutsu sprang forth. The results were far more than he expected and an almost-flawless clone of himself sprang up from beneath the water, forming into a finished imitation right as it left the surface of the pond - almost as if it were a real person who had been hiding in the depths.

He breathed out the air he hadn't realised he'd been holding in; it was simple, after all. He tentatively reached out and touched the clone as it stood before him, feeling it; although damp from water, it seemed more real than he'd thought would be possible. Indeed, until he punched a hole through it and watched its life-water flow away, he could not tell the difference between it and a real person. He smiled in satisfaction, and then thrust a fist upward into the sky with a cheerful "All right!"

But as always, he dismissed the idea of leaving the training there. He'd barely broken a sweat, after all. His method of learning suiton jutsu generally began with him as he was now, standing on (or near) the pond in his garden, or another decently-sized source of water. It was remarkably effective and allowed him to see early results and refine his technique often before he would otherwise be able to even manifest a jutsu, and left the common second-hurdle of water based techniques for afterwards: The endurance test of creating them when no source of water was otherwise available. Learn the technique using water that's already there, he recited his regimen, and then learn to summon it from nothing.

That second-step is what he now faced. The last time he'd attempted to learn an equivalent-ranked technique like this, it had taken several days just to have enough energy for the attempts needed - but that had been several years past, and where once stood an eager-faced student there was now a passionate Genin. He relocated to the courtyard directly behind his house and prepped himself to continue, squaring his footing and closing his eyes.
He began by repeating the previous jutsu exactly, to see how far it got him - and, predictably, nothing happened. On his third attempt, he overloaded the jutsu entirely, saturating every action with more chakra than was necessary and releasing it all-too-soon. That resulted in a geyser of an appreciable size erupting from the ground and soaking him through before it died away.

"Focus!" he urged himself, and took several deep, calming breaths. "More chakra, but only to start with." Speaking aloud, he talked himself through the steps one more time. Eyes closed and dripping wet, he would probably have looked like a crazy boy to anyone who might have been present to observe or hear him. If there was anyone nearby, he was unaware and totally dedicated now to the technique at hand. "Now the seals. Mould. Dog. Bird. Ox. Crane. Tiger. Ram. Ox. Bird." his hands carried out his commands without a split-second of a delay, and once again he felt the energy building. Right at the end, he added more chakra; almost twice as much as the first success on the pond, but not as much as the attempt that had clearly overshot the mark.

The result was a resounding success. Droplets of water formed from the air and were drawn together almost faster than he could see, and within a moment were pulled together to form a perfect imitation of the Aisu Genin. He tested it by commanding it, making it run two laps around the courtyard and having it run towards him as if in attack - whereupon he pierced it cleanly with a kunai and watched as the small trickle of water from the wound grew and grew until the water-clone dissipated.

"One more time!" He repeated the previous jutsu, but this time augmented it with extra energy and an auxiliary seal that followed the main sequence. When it completed, three clones emerged where before there had been only one. As soon as the energy was spent he felt suddenly weak, and fell to one knee before he caught the fall with a hand and steadied himself.

"It's easy to overdo it..." he realised, and moved himself around to a sitting position while panting for breath. All the morning's energy was suddenly gone from him, and his head drooped as he surveyed the three clones. Well, no point in wasting them after all that.

"Fight, now!" he called, and watched as three identical Naohiros drew kunai and lunged for one another. One took a painful slash across the face on the first clash of blades, and disappeared with a splash, but the two remaining began a heated exchange of blows. He found himself impressed as he watched - they fought just like he did, identical down to the way he shifted his weight and the angle of his punches. Eventually, one miscalculated a landing and staggered, and the other met it with a calculated roundhouse that ended in another splash of water.

"Well done!" Naohiro clapped and smiled, and formed a seal to banish the clone, before pausing. "On second-thoughts... Go and help my mother with her gardening, and work hard at it!" He grinned mischievously to himself once the clone obeyed the order and hurried off to another section of the gardens. His father had told him to report when he'd achieved the technique, but for all the Jounin knew it would take several hours yet. The clone could tackle some of his chores until then, and let the real Naohiro nap away some of the fatigue that had come with the jutsu.

Jutsu TrainedShow
*Water Clone Technique
C-ranked Suiton Ninjutsu
After performing the required seals, the user will be able to create clones made of water. Unlike a normal clone, the water clone has the ability to interact more with the environment due to it having physical substance. This allows the clone to carry out limited attacks on its target. The range of the clone is limited, only able to travel about fifty meters from the user. The user distributes a sufficient amount of chakra equally amongst their other clones, allowing them to use any C or D-Rank Suiton Ninjutsu the user knows.
  • Taijutsu – 1
  • Stamina – 3
  • Strength – 1
  • Speed – 3

Word Count: 1681, ~1219/1050 for training.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Tue Mar 22, 2016 9:52 am

In Defiant Challenge: I

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Taijutsu training: 1598/1500

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -

"Focus, child!"

Hisako's harsh instruction cut into Naohiro's concentration and cost him the bout as a swift spinning-kick took him in the jaw. His head exploded with pain as he was forced away, feet leaving the ground and his body turning once, twice, three times as it sailed back to the dusty floor of the training room. He landed with a thump that echoed around the stuffy scene with a sense of finality.

No, he forced himself to acknowledge as he rolled onto his back and lay staring up and the ceiling through a haze of flickering stars. His eyes were still recovering from the sudden blow. I'd already lost that one. He knew better than to blame his mentor; the kick that had taken him would've begun long before she called out and distracted him, and she'd probably only done so because he hadn't reacted to it in time. Old or not, the woman knew what she was doing when she took control of his training. Not that he'd ever dare call her old aloud, of course. He'd grown rather attached to his head being where it was.

"Up, up!" She swam into vision above him and, with a whistling swing of the willow-reed that was her chosen method of 'encouragement' for the day, he felt a sharp pain flare at his waist. It was a little funny how that seemed to hurt less and less the more the rest of his body ached, but with a shake of his head to try and clear his vision, he obeyed and regained his footing. "If you want to rest; win, boy!" Swish-crack sung the reed again. He had enough dignity not to yelp this time. Trying to stifle his rising temper, he gave the woman a stiff bow before reluctantly returning to face his duelling partner.

Perhaps duelling partner was a misleading term today. Hisako didn't often find people at his own skill level - that made it impossible to learn 'properly' in her opinion - but today she'd really outdone herself. Assailant might have been more fitting a description. Or sadist, as he seemed to take rather easily to his job of beating the hapless Genin to the floor. Easily over six foot tall with shoulders twice as wide as Naohiro's own, the man - for he was certainly no teenager like Naohiro - towered over his young opponent. At least he isn't a trained ninja, the boy thought ruefully, though the man was certainly qualified in terms of his physical ability. He bowed to signal the start of another fight and resumed his stance --

-- and the beast was upon him. So quick that his motion was nearly a blur, the man launched himself forward with a powerful straight-punch aimed directly at Naohiro's chest, and only an instinctual, shocked step backwards saved his ribs from a likely break. Even so he felt the impact of the punch on the air infront of him - such power! - and felt himself begin to panic again. A single clean hit from the man would be enough to put him out of action for a week. He dropped to a crouch and ducked beneath a second blow, then stepped forward amd slammed a desperate fist into his foe's gut. The impact was as solid as if he'd punched a house, but a grunt from the man suggeted that it had at least done something. Before he could extract himself, however, a pair of trunk-like arms wrapped around his torso from above and in one sudden motion, hauled him upside-down into the air.

He hit the ground on the far side of the makeship ring a moment later. This time, spurred on by the hammering of approaching footsteps, he scampered to his feet as quickly as he could and turned back to face the approaching mountain. You can beat this man! He tried to tell himself, growing frustrated at the seemingly hopeless repition of his failure. This was the fifth time within the hour that he was facing the man - a fact that his complaining body wouldn't quickly forget. Hisako-san wouldn't put me against someone I couldn't beat... Would she? It was probably a good thing that he didn't have time to dwell on or complete that thought. He quickly put up his guard and watched the man approach, trying to judge where, when and how he'd strike. His kicks had been his strong point so far, although he also had a knack for feinting with a foot-rise and then moving to perfo--

The man didn't stop to strike at all. Instead he barelled onwards, only dropping his head and shoulders at the last moment to slam Naohiro with a tackle that felt like it could topple a brick wall. The poor Genin flew backwards, crashing with a cry into the solid wooden screens that formed the back wall of the room. Hisako, who had been standing behind him, deftly sidestepped the airbourne mess of flailing limbs, then casually approached again once he'd stopped and slid to the floor.

Swish-crack! "Get --!"

He reacted instantly and without question, before she'd even finished her simple instruction. Against all the fierce protests of pain from his body, Naohiro launched himself away from the now-cracked wall and back into the fight. Oh, he'd been wrong, very wrong, in his assumption of Hisako's choice in his combat partner. The man outclassed him in every physical aspect, and his best strikes so far had been mostly inneffective. No, I'm not supposed to win this at all, he now realised as he ducked under a right-hook, darted past the man and spun on his heel so as to keep him in sight, but I WILL!. A burning anger coursed through him, blinding him to both caution and pain as he surged forward. Watching only the brute ahead, he didn't notice Hisako's satisfied smirk.

As the man turned to face Naohiro he found a fist directed right at his nose, yet he succeeded in lowering his head in time to take the strike on the hardest section of his forehead instead, then tried to seize control of the fight by pushing towards the boy again. He swung with a broad sweeping motion causing Naohiro to dance back a pace, but then the boy pivoted, grabbed the back side of the man's arm, and yanked with all he could muster to try and pull the brute off-balance. That proved to be a futile attempt as he instead found himself pulled in close again, and a beefy hand appeared at his torso. Grasping a handful of his jacket, the man lifted him up into the air. Naohiro writhed and kicked in a hopeless struggle to escape, until he was forced to instead use his arms to protect himself from a punch to his head. The man pulled back his free arm a second time, and -- an opening!

Using the grip on his torso as a pivot, Naohiro suddenly swung his bottom half forward and, in the apex of the man's buildup to a punch, landed a well-aimed kick right into the man's jugular. His opponent released him immediately, staggering back in surprise and covering his neck with a protective hand. Naohiro managed to keep his footing as he fell to the ground, and then pushed himself forward hoping to press the momentary advantage. Don't let him recover! He told himself. Before the man could resume his guard he deftly stepped right between the brute's legs with his right foot and slammed both palms into his stomach. The man was forced back and from and grunted at the impact, then stumbled as his leg was caught by Naohiro's carefully positioned foot. The Genin seized the opportunity to pull his leg free, then with it still in the air, pivoted sideways and delivered a powerful sidekick right into the man's knee as he tried to regain his posture.

Something gave way under the force of the blow and the man fell to his left knee, surprise evident upon his face. He shot a look towards Hisako, who had begun circling the fighting pair and was watching them with interest. Naohiro brought his left fist around and clocked the man squarely on the temple, then raised to strike again. As his fist connected, a punch of overwhelming force struck back at him as the man roared and retaliated with an impressive hook from his right. The boy's vision went black on that side for a moment and he half-staggered, half-flew backwards. The man tentatively got to his feet, assumed a low stance... And then waited. Like a silent, nameless beast preparing itself to strike whatever dared wander into its lair.

They fell motionless, both watching and waiting for the other to initiate the next exchange. Hisako continued to circle, tapping a finger impatiently on her crossed arms. Naohiro picked out the faint hint of a smile on the man's face, and noticed how his eyes were flickering across Naohiro's stance, reading him in anticipation. Maybe he wasn't quite a sadist, then; the small note of pleasure now present hadn't been there previously, before Naohiro had managed to start fighting back.

Swish-crack! The dry strike of the reed pierced the moment of silence with its fierceness as it slashed across Naohiro's back. "Continue" Hisako muttered. She'd always had a certain quality that let her voice be heard without her ever having to actually raise it. Naohiro gritted his teeth and, with a yell, launched himself back into the fray.
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Aisu NaohiroJouninKirigakure no Sato[Unit 12] [HHD] [#BAE0E2] [#70CEE2]
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Tue Mar 22, 2016 9:53 am

In Defiant Challenge: II

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Taijutsu training: 1527/1500

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -

Several beads of sweat flew free from Naohiro's temple and seemed to hang in the air for a moment as he spun, twirling both to avoid the powerful roundhouse of his opponent and to put himself at the man's exposed side. He jabbed low, aiming for the ribs, but met only air as the hulking man shifted his weight and withdrew from the attack with an agility that was no longer so surprising.

Too fast! He desperately searched for another opening but could see none, and instead drew his arms back into a high guard and retreated a few steps. He'd quickly found that his sparring partner favoured powerful strikes aimed at Nao's torso or head, probably because it made easy use of his height advantage over the Genin - and, of course, because generally dealt far more damage. Naohiro's mentor, Hisako, had probably encouraged that. She'd believe that the increased pain output would force her student to learn and adapt faster in order to survive. Annoyingly, she'd been correct. She had finally stopped prowling the edge of their makeshift arena and instead waited patiently by the door, watching and waiting as the fight continued. The boy could see her out of the corner of his eyes, but he didn't dare move his attention that way properly lest he find himself caught out.

Because although he looked like nothing more than a simple street-tough, the man he faced was far smarter and seemed to know exactly how to surprise the boy. His martial art was straightforward yet effective, and so far the only real success Hiro had achieved was surviving as long as he had; a few landed punches or kicks here and there hadn't done much beyond get his opponent more worked up - though he was at least now breathing almost as heavily as Naohiro himself was. The most frustrating aspect of all was that the teenage Genin knew that he could win, and probably quite easily, if only he could apply his real talent - that of ninjutsu. But that defied both the rules and purpose of the exercise. He scowled at the unrealism of it all, although it did make sense; in the real world his opponent would likely be a ninja too, so limiting himself to the same abilities as the man made the fight as accurate as it could be to something he might experience in the field. And yet... Well, he himself wasn't much of a skilled taijutsu-user. That's why he was here.

The man evidently realised that Naohiro was on the defensive and lunged forward, sending two quick jabs towards the boy's neck - probably aimed in revenge for one particularly painful strike Nao had landed earlier - which the Genin managed to knock aside. Two more followed, keeping the boy's arms busy as they diverted the blows, before a lightning-fast frontkick broke through his guard and slammed into his chest. He threw himself backwards with the strike, utilising the force behind it to create some distance between him and the man, and skidded to a halt a couple of metres away. He chest wheezed as he tried to suck in air, every bit of bruised from one impact or another, but despite that he forced himself to continue. The man came on again, charging to close the distance and trying to use his greater weight to overwhelm Naohiro. This trick, he'd tried before. The boy dove aside, tucking into a roll to evade the charge and then quickly spinning while picking himself up off of the ground. He sprang back at the man before the brute could turn and kicked as hard as he could at the rear of his left knee, that being another point that he'd previously struck. Concentrating his attacks to certain areas was one of the few solutions he could see to finishing the battle.

The knee gave way from the kick and the man collapsed, catching himself with his left hand as he fell, but then used that as a pivot and swung his right leg back and towards Nao. He jumped desperately, clearing the swipe by a metre and trying to jump over the man on the ground to land on his other side and gain more opportunity to attack. The grounded man traced the trajectory and leant himself in the opposite direction, then regained his footing and delivered a double-fisted punch right towards the boy as he fell.

He was swatted out of the air like a fly, sailing several more metres away before landing on his back. Over the sound of his collision, he heard an audible [color=#D1A0CC0]"Tsk!"[/color] from Hisako. At least she wasn't near enough to whip him again. He looked around and saw that the man hadn't followed-through with the punch and was instead using the momentary break to reassert himself. Naohiro found his legs weak from the continued exertion as he tried to rise, but stamped strength back into them (bruises upon bruises delivering pain from the action) and then reviewed his opponent. Their combat had been going on and off for hours, and for all the man's strength and speed, his stamina seemed more or less comparable to the Genin's - likely a convenient side-effect of Nao's prowess with ninjutsu more than his combat training. By now they were both sweating profusely. The man stood a little awkwardly and appeared to be favouring his right leg, suggesting that Nao's earlier assault on the left knee was still bothering him; presenting an opportunity that would hopefully be easy to exploit further.

He rushed forward, then dodged to one side and let the man's initial receiving strike to pass harmlessly by. Nao darted in low, jumped back to evade the knee that rose up to greet him, then threw himself into the man's torso and stamped downwards on the top of the knee. The man let out a howl of pain and lashed out violently, but the agile ninja threw himself to the side to avoid the swipe, then darted in again and smashed a fist into his opponent's nose. Blood exploded across the man's face, but as Naohiro withdrew his hand the man - seemingly in denial of the pain from the apparently-broken nose - ducked forward and delivered a powerful, but blind, headbutt. It cracked against Nao's skull and sent a quivering lance of pain throughout his head. He backed away dizzily, and thankfully, the man didn't follow.

He stood panting, a pat-pattering of blood dripping from his knuckles and onto the wooden floor. Around them, broken wall-panels and and floorboards littered the area, and their intense hours of fighting left the room, which hadn't been clean in the first place, a mess of kicked-up dust and dirt. Gulping air and shaking his head to clear the dizziness, he gave himself a moment to recover while the man was doing the same, then resumed his guard and tried to focus. He took a few steps forward to close back into combat range, and--

The man raised a hand, palm outstretched, and Naohiro paused. Their eyes met, and with a faint smile of approval, the man nodded slowly. The Genin reeled; that's it? It's... over? The brute was still standing, but even a small victory was a major step forward given how he'd spent most of the day so far lying defeated on the floor after each fight. Hisako stepped in briskly, putting herself between the two combatants, then placed a hand on the man's shoulder and leant in to exchange a whisper. He nodded and rubbed the places where Hiro had struck hardest, neck, stomach, knee. Naohiro scowled at that - even such a small gesture of concern was far more sympathy than Hisako had ever shown him, and he was her student!

"Well done," she finally said and turned to him. The man walked slowly away to the side of the room. "It seems you've finally learnt the first lesson of Taijutsu. About time, boy." Swish-crack! Naohiro jumped at the sudden whip of the reed as it caught him on the thigh, and looked to Hisako with alarm.

"What was--" swish-crack!

"Don't ever back down!" Hisako barked, stepping towards him as he impulsively backed away from the kiss of the willow-reed. "Don't show any fear!" Swish-crack! "Never cower, or submit to your opponent! Never give them the mental advantage, or you'll have lost before the first attack is made!" Swish-crack!

"Do you understand?" She barked, accentuating the words with another whip. Swish--
Naohiro seized the reed, yanked it free and snapped it over his knee, then threw the pieces aside.

"I understand, Hisako-sensei." She eyed him for a moment, face impassive and eyes piercing... And then, after a long moment, she smiled.

"Good." She nodded, then turned to leave. "Now clean up your mess and return again tomorrow. And don't get cocky, you've got a long way to go still." She snapped her fingers as she walked away, and the man rose to leave alongside her. Naohiro watched them go with a sigh. He had been hoping to at least learn the man's name.
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu Sep 01, 2016 11:11 am

In Defiant Challenge: III

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Taijutsu training: 1835/1500

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -

"Watch closely," Hisako instructed from Naohiro's side, "see how they move and learn what you can." Their balcony vantage-point looked down over an indoor sparring hall. On the hall floor several metres below them, young students of the dojo were standing in organised rows and following the lead of a master at the far end of the room. They moved in rehearsed synchronicity, each lunging forward with an exaggerated punch at the same time as their neighbours. As one unit, twenty students took a step backwards, pivoted, and spun a wide arcing kick through the air before them. The master stood stationary, shouting instructions and watching for any failed motions in the class.

Naohiro soon found himself frowning. The students were children of a pre-academy age, and the kata they were performing was a good workout... But that's all it was. Exercise. The actual 'fighting' going on was far too forced, too rigid and premeditated to be of much use in any real combat situation. The attacks had power, sure, but they were so obvious and needlessly emphasised that a baby could predict it. He shook his head and turned to see Hisako watching him. She wasn't smiling - she never smiled much - but her eyes twinkled with a hidden amusement.

"Yes?" She questioned, watching his intently.

He turned back to the room and continued to watch for a moment. "I don't know if I can learn anything from this, Hisako-san." He spoke calmly, letting his eyes watch the front-line of students stiffen as the class teacher began to pace up and down past them. "Not because of the age or the skill of the class, but because of the style of training. I.. I can't imagine this rigid kata being useful for me in a fight." He cocked his head and met Hisako's eye.

"Keep watching, boy," she encouraged, not unkindly, "there's more to see here than lacklustre sparring. See how quickly the students react to their instructions, see how resolute each of them are in their strikes. I'm showing you this so you can see an example of discipline within martial art."

He continued to watch and realised the woman was correct. Although each of the moves individually had obviously been ingrained into each child's mind by sheer repetition, the sequence of one move to the next was random and changing from one moment to the next. Each student reacted instantly, without hesitation or confusion as a stright-arm punch became an initator to grapple, a block, and then a powerful axe-kick. Even though the fighting itself was a bit of a farce, there was an odd satisfaction in the dedication plastered on each child's face. After a moment, though, he looked again to Hisasko.

"I can see what you mean. But I'm a ninja of the Aisu; I'm familiar enough with hard discipline for several lifetimes already." He nodded at the crowd of students below. "There's nothing here that I can benefit from seeing."

Hisako watched him for a long moment, then nodded a slow agreement. "Very well, Naohiro. I would argue that you should not underestimate what you're seeing, but I will acknowledge that perhaps this style is not for you." She beckoned for him to follow, and turned to leave the balcony. The exit led onto a long corridor which lay between several of the large training halls, and she continued to speak as they walked along it.
"You are correct that a rehearsed kata is not ideal for combat in its entirety, but the true strength of that style is revealed in a lightning-quick instant, when a master of it can strike with rehearsed perfection at the perfect, deciding moment. No one would perform a full sequence of moves like they practise here in true combat; only a punch here, a kick there. I think you judged too soon based on what you saw, and not what potential it may have had. But I am a considerate teacher, and I believe it is important to have faith in what one studies. I can see that you are still not convinced, so we will move on."

The pair reached another door and entered onto a second balcony, this one overlooking a different, smaller room. Below them this time was a disorganised group of men and women, many with Kirigakure-mark headbands identifying them as qualified ninja, fighting in twos and threes. Naohiro opened his mouth to voice his first impressions, but at the last moment managed to restrain his tongue. No judgement before fair consideration, this time.

Instead he leant forward against the barrier of the balcony and began to watch closely. Compared to the last training hall, this one was chaotic; here and there a fight would cease when two duelists would turn and jump to attack other nearby combatants whenever they spied an opening in someone's technique. Every man and woman seemed to fight for themselves alone, as if they were on a battlefield surrounded by enemies. This won some appeal in Naohiro's mind. There were no set arenas or rings laid out in the hall, so the combatants had the freedom of their environment and room to move however they needed. No two strikes or locks were the same, as if each motion was impulsive and spontaneous, executed as a perfect reaction to the situation at hand.

Furthermore, he realised, that despite the dozen-strong crowd of people swinging, kicking and throwing each other around, there was a surprising quiet across the room. The slap of flesh-hitting-flesh was rare and stood out loudly when it happened. Each fighter seemed an expert at evading every incoming blow, twisting, ducking, and weaving to escape contact with an opponent. That made the scene almost resemble a dance; it was graceful, spontaneous, and yet seethed with carefully restrained power. It was beautiful to behold.

The crowd slowly thinned over the next few minutes. Some combatants bowed themselves out as they grew exhausted from the continuous motion, but most went down after a badly-timed block or dodge left them on the receiving end of staggeringly quick blows. Every time someone fell or left the fight, the victor would turn and search out another victim. Eventually only one person remained, and Naohiro was surprised to see that the winner was a young woman. Small and slight, she couldn't be older than sixteen and was easily outweighed by almost every man present. He whistled under his breath at the skill she must've possessed to come out on top.

"What do you think?" Naohiro turned to see that Hisako had been watching him, and realised that he'd been wholly absorbed in the training below.

"I think I like it," he nodded, and turned his eyes back to the hall floor. The group of combatants were paying respects to one another, bows and back-slaps awarded to those who fought particularly well. After that the combatants spaced themselves apart from one another and began a series of stretches.
"It looks chaotic at first, but it was beautiful to watch. It looked so natural and impulsive, and the way they moved... Yes, I think I'd like to learn how to fight like this."

"Wonderful." Hisako took a casual half step backwards as she spoke, then took a surprisingly quick step towards him and shoved him off of the balcony.
He flailed unceremoniously in the air for a moment, trying to conquer his shock and right himself before he landed. All his wild flailing proved ineffective, but thankfully - or luckily, perhaps - he crashed into a cushioned mat that had been discarded beneath the balcony. The room spun for a moment after he hit and he groaned, counting himself blessed for not missing the mat. He found it best not to think about whether Hisako had known that the fall would be safe for him or not. She had a tendancy to-

"Had enough of just watching, eh?" A hand appeared over his head as he lay on the mat. It belonged to the slight young girl from before, her black ponytail and pretty green eyes accenting a reassuring smile. He took the hand and pulled himself to his feet.
"Hey, everyone!" the girl let him go and turned to address the rest of the room. A few others had stopped in their stretches to watch as he'd fell, and most of them were grinning at the scene. "We have a new face joining us. He's a little wobbly on his feet, so go easy on him."
Naohiro felt colour rise in his cheeks at the jest, and the girl shot him a wink as a few members of the group chuckled aloud. "What's your name?"

"Na-Naohiro."

"Well then, welcome, Na-Naohiro-san." she smiled again, "I'm Kanae."
"We'll wait a little bit before we have another exercise, but you'd do good to start stretching with us until then. Follow Asao here if you need any tips." She held out a hand to introduce another member of the group, this a tall boy with short-cropped white hair and a scar on his jaw. He looked a few years older than Naohiro and had a stockiness to him that suggested strength, but he nodded in welcome as Kanae left to return to the others.

Asao and Naohiro chatted casually as the elder demonstrated some of the basic stretches for Nao. He'd only been training with the group for a few weeks, but before that he'd been experienced with a form of boxing-taijutsu. He'd quickly begun to adjust his combat style, improving and adapting his fighting to fit in with the methods taught, and was an impressive fighter. But for all that, he was still usually one of the first five to go down in an exercise. That's what they called the chaotic, all-on-all bouts of combat; exercises. Physical strength and size were, apparently, not as important here as they might usually seem.

Nao began by warming up his body by stretching each limb in turn while Asao described the ideal way to approach the combat.
"It's an acrobatic style, at its core, though there's not a lot of flipping and flying through the air. But watch whenever you see someone take a punch. See how they move their body away from the point of impact at just the right time to soften a blow, or bend out of its path completely. See how people use their speed to strike at openings the moment they appear, and watch how someone like Kanae can get through a drawn-out brawl without a single scratch. She makes it look easy, but I'm telling you, it's not. It takes a lot out of you, and you've gotta be quick on your feet."

The explanation was helpful, but not altogether very educational. Nao would need real experience and tutoring if he was going to learn anything of the combat technique - and soon enough, the group began to rise and position themselves around the room ready for a second 'exercise'.
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu Sep 01, 2016 11:12 am

Illusion & Disillusion: I

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Genjutsu training: 1564/1500

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -

Naohiro let the heavy tome drop to the desk with a loud thunk!, then winced at the thought of the scolding he would get if the librarian had seen him do so. Never come between a scholar and his books, his father had once wisely told him. The book was just one of many that he'd gathered over the past few hours, and he held a hope that contained within its pages, finally, would be something useful to him. Most of the other books he'd found so far were either painfully rudimentary - pre-academy stuff, really - or deceptively complex, to the point where his head would be aching from little more than scanning the first page. He was far - far - from an expert with genjutsu, but neither was he a complete beginner. The academy imparted unto all students a base of understanding, but to really make use of it always required one to build on top of it, which is something he hadn't started to do until now.

Just because I don't tend to use it in battle, he argued with himself mentally, it doesn't mean I'm incapable of understanding and applying genjutsu when it counts. He was struggling to convince himself on that last point, hence his presence in one of the village archives on this otherwise-fine day. Now in the final run-up to his chuunin exams, he was granting himself as much free time as he could manage, and filling every moment of it with dedicated and relentless training. He's been studying new techniques and new combat styles, and training his taijutsu under several mentors and with several friends. He'd even taken a few days to teach other people himself in order to gain the experience of acting as a mentor, and had to admit that it'd been oddly satisfying to impart his knowledge to others.

All of this was brilliant, he acknowledged; more progress by far than he'd made in quite some time. And yet one aspect of his education had been quietly pushed aside in favour of long hours spent sparring, lecturing, and moulding chakra: Genjutsu. The mind-bending techniques of illusion and trickery that were so strong, yet so complex and oft overlooked or avoided. There's so muc potential in them, he knew, and yet it's so difficult to learn!. He wasn't alone in his aversion to it - most ninja his age were hesitant about genjutsu, and those that used it tended to do so almost exclusively, as if the techniques required so much training that one couldn't possibly learn taijutsu or ninjutsu at the same time.

That can't be correct. I'll force myself to sit here and learn something, if I have to! He took a seat at the long desk, pulled the tome around to face him, then opened its stiff leather cover and flicked through to pass the contents and settled on an early page at random.

Genjutsu techniques are one of the three primary forms of shinobi arts used in the world, he began to read, then skimmed ahead a little and continued. No sense wasting time on the boring descriptions that he already knew, after all. Genjutsu techniques exist in four distinct classes: Illusion, Status, Overlay, and Warp techniques. The first two form the bulk of all commonly-practised genjutsu, and along with Overlay techniques are wholly unique in their effects. Warp genjutsu is the combination of Illusion and Status components into a higher tier of complexity, and together with Overlay styles result in some of the most difficult - and devastating - techniques ever encountered.

He paused in thought; did the author mean 'most devastating techniques', or 'most devastating genjutsu techniques'? There was a large difference, but he found his interest was piqued. He leant over the book and continued to read hungrily. The next few passages worked to describe the four classes and their components.

Illusory genjutsu are the most common type, with applications ranging from the simple (such as changing the text on this page to appear differently to someone affected), to complicated, multi-sense illusions that can wholly dictate the outcome of a battle. Illusion genjutsu covers the realms of all the body's physical senses; sight, most commonly, but also sound, touch, smell, taste, balance, receptivity, and so on.

He took a moment to think on each of the senses, his mind trying to wrap itself around the idea of objects feeling different due to a mind-twisting genjutsu, or how something as simple as a sound made by an initiator could be used as a conduit for chakra to apply a technique. It was a all little strange, but at the same time, fascinating. This one category alone held so much potential.

After a few minutes spent pondering, he moved on.
Status genjutsu are the mental counterpart to Illusion genjutsu, the passage included a pleasing diagram of the mind and body, highlighting areas and senses that could be dominated by the different classes of technique. Their realm is the altering of emotions and thought itself; a skilled Status genjutsu user can invoke fear in men's hearts with a simple glance, they can rally unfailing loyalty and courage with a click of their fingers, or send the strongest soldier to his knees, lovestruck from the smell of flowers.

Naohiro smiled at that last part, the idea sounding ridiculous. His smile faded to a frown as he re-read it, noticing the serious tone and the lack of any humour elsewhere. It's not an exaggeration, he realised suddenly, Status genjutsu is quite literally dominating thought and emotions! He found the idea disturbing, even a little terrifying - the book claimed it was a relatively simple matter to tweak memories inside a victim's head to incur a desired reaction, and he reeled at the concept. How could a man be sure his mind was ever his own, if such powerful techniques were in use around them? Growing apprehensive now, he continued to read.

Overlay genjutsu focus on the subconscious mind of a target, awakening it to becoming their reality, and manipulating it directly. There is no 'simple' when it comes to Overlay genjutsu; the techniques take place on real-world timescales of fractions of a second, yet those who experience them can feel the time stretching out to hours, days, weeks, or even years. The user of Overlay techniques can flawlessly dominate the mind of their victim, pulling their consciousness into any setting they wish and manipulating it almost endlessly.

This one he didn't quite understand. He re-read the passage, shook his head, then pulled over a second book on the table to cross-reference the first against another description. It helped, but also made him feel humbled in his ignorance.

Imagine yourself standing in battle, weapon raised, the second book explained in a far more casual tone, but in an eye-blink your weapon is gone, and the battlefield too. Instead you're suddenly standing in a cage, hanging over a cliff-edge in an unfamiliar world. The sky bleeds blood, the shadows writhe and stab at you, and a hundred images of your enemy take their time to gouge at your skin with knives. They set your cage alight, plunge burning pokers into your stomach, and tear apart the muscles in your body. You feel all of it. And it goes on for days, your assailants never tiring, your body never quite giving up completely. And then - just like that, you're back there on the battlefield, weapon back in hand, and not a scratch on you. But those countless hours of torture were real, confined to your subconscious mind, and no amount of realisation will make the pain any less. No... Naohiro shut the book and shoved it away, feeling a little sick at the descriptions. Suddenly he understood why people feared genjutsu-users. Absolutely terrifying, beyond any fear of death itself, because they could, apparently, go so far beyond the barrier of death to inflict pain and torment upon a man.

It took him a long ten minutes of careful reflection and preparation to continue his studying. He left the second book where it lay, however, and kept his eyes firmly on the first. He skipped the remaining passages about Overlay genjutsu and moved on to the fourth, and supposedly final style.

Warp genjutsu are the combination of Illusion and Status techniques to create fantastically convincing and complex results. They are frequently referred to as 'sensory illusions', though the term does not do them justice. They are capable of feats such as not only making a person perceive their surroundings burning, and feeling the heat, but also going the step further to invoke belief - and outright fear - of the burning. Victims suffer the mental trauma of Status genjutsu in combination with the sensory experience of Illusion, creating genjutsu that are, more often than not, near impossible to differentiate from reality. It is for this reason that Warp styles are regarded as some of the most deadly techniques in existence.

He put the book down again and whistled softly in appreciation. While the base logic was familiar, he hadn't ever experienced or discovered detailed descriptions of the more complicated forms of genjutsu, and doing so was like opening a new door of possibilities within his mind. A door that led to the absolute domination and mental ruin of those who crossed a genjutsu master.
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu Sep 01, 2016 11:13 am

Illusion & Disillusion: II

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Genjutsu training: 1504/1500

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -

Naohiro's studies in genjutsu had thus far unsettled and intrigued him in equal amounts. The potential of the techniques he read about were fascinating, causing him to ponder for long minutes about what he himself might one day be able to create as illusions or emotional hooks; and yet the potential of what other people were capable of creating was terrifying. It was this last point that urged the young Genin to keep at his studies, educating himself on the subject as much as possible with whatever bookwork he could. That was important - because once he'd exhausted the scholarly methods, the next step would be practical application, something that he wasn't yet confident he was ready for.

He was still sitting within one of Kirigakure's dusty archive buildings, and had secluded himself for the day on an upstairs balcony that doubled as a reading alcove. It gave him all the privacy he could want, and also afforded a view down upon the ground floor of the library building, where the shuffling silhouettes of other people could be fetching and replacing books into long rows of dimly lit shelves. Similar shelves ringed his alcove, but the space within was dominated by a long table and benches, the latter topped with a plush cushioned fabric. An oil-lantern sat lidded on the table, half-hidden behind piles of books he'd already scoured or discarded as useless to his current topic of interest.

One or two tomes, however, did contain decent information. Breaking the Mind Prison was stylized on the cover of one of these, and he pulled it over to where he sat and began flicking through the pages. Eventually he settled on a particular page and started to read silently.

Escaping genjutsu is an art in and of itself. It is a subject which dozens of scholars and shinobi alike have spent lifetimes researching and perfecting, always seeking more reliable or more effective solutions (see Chapter Six: Breaking Hypotheses). Certifiable evidence, however, consistently suggests that the tried-and-proven methods herein are still considered the most effective.

He hungrily kept reading, devouring the information contained within the pages. He slipped a bookmark into 'chapter six' for later reference, but otherwise wasted no time in getting back to the text.

Chief among these methods is the Kai Release, a rudimentary internally-focused ninpou technique that has now been included in the basic education of all ninja of Kirigakure. To understand the Kai technique, one must first understand the base theory of genjutsu and its initiation to a target.

Unlike with ninjutsu, wherein chakra is generally controlled and directly manipulated by a user to achieve a desired effect, genjutsu differ in that chakra is instead channelled to a target by way of dsitinct
initiations. These are the 'hooks' that act to trap a target in a genjutsu. They are always attuned to one particular sense of perception; sight, for instance, or smell. When the target percieves an initiator, a (hypothetical) bond is established between the technique caster and the afflicted, thereby instantly transitioning - or channelling - the user's chakra directly into the target's circulatory system or mind.

Naohiro scratched his head in thought at this, easily able to pick up on the base differences between ninjutsu and genjutsu but unsatisfied as to the theory. He picked up a fine writing-brush, dabbed it briefly into a pot of ink, and spent some minutes scribbling out a page of notes and interpretations on the subject. He read the passage again, frowning, and then set his notes aside; he would cross-reference his understanding with other texts later on, to ensure he either discovered the truth of the matter or corrected himself in the event of a mistake. Finally, he returned to the book.

Applied genjutsu therefore exist not in the mind and body of the caster, as with many ninjutsu styles, but in the body of the affected victims themselves (though this distinction breaks down somewhat in the context of Overlay techniques; see Chapter Thirteen: Transverse Consciousness in Advanced Genjutsu). This has been proven true through years of extensive application and testing among the ninja population. It stands to reason, therefore, that the disruption of the chakra network in a victim, whether intentional or incidental, in turn disrupts the effectiveness of any genjutsu present within their circulatory system.

The
Kai Release is an intentional application of this chakra disruption, applied by a victim to their own body. The principle is simple: As genjutsu are themselves delicate adjustments made to the flow and interaction of chakra within one's body, temporarily stopping or 'purging' that flow will consequently end the effects of a genjutsu. However, it should be noted early that this general rule applies only to simplistic genjutsu techniques.

Naohiro hesitated again, not entirely liking what he'd just read: The Kai Release was meant to be a reliable counter to all genjutsu, wasn't it? So how could advanced illusions resist its interruption?

An experienced genjutsu user is entirely capable of including allowances within the alterations to a chakra flow that serve to counter the sudden cessation of flow within a chakra network, essentially making a technique immune to a rudimentary Kai of the sort taught to students. In this situation, the Kai must also be improved by the victim to further its effectiveness. This is usually achieved by solid understanding of, and first-hand experience with, the intricies of genjutsu techniques themselves. An advanced Kai Release, while working on the same base principle as it always has, can instead stagger multiple interruptions to a chakra flow, or force its own alteration to the chakra network which overwrites the effect of any genjutsu present. It is for this reason that one must, as a rule of thumb, be qualified with genjutsu in order to counter it effectively.

The young Aisu slowly put the book down and closed its cover, mulling over the theories and descriptions he'd just read. The tome was a step up in difficulty from where he'd begun that morning, which was both encouraging and frustrating simultaneously, as he could no longer skim the words and still learn. He busied himself making a second page of notes, jotting down the key points of what he'd been reading, then pulled the book back over and flicked through it to the next page in the section.

The other methods of cancelling the effects of genjutsu are simpler, yet often far costlier and less reliable. Most frequently applied by Genin and students of the academy is the discovery that intense pain - that is, the mental shock incurred by one's mind upon suffering a sudden spike of pain - can be sufficient to shatter the grip of a genjutsu on oneself. This method is scorned by experienced ninja, however, as the obvious cost of suffering the wounds is detrimental to one's combat capacity. Even simple genjutsu can require serious stab wounds, torn joints or broken bones in order to generate enough shock within the body to escape an illusion technique. Worst of all is the fact that the intensity of pain required to break a genjutsu does not scale evenly to the complexity of the technique applied; escaping even a moderately complicated technique may require a near-fatal wound, which quite possibly means that escaping the genjutsu is costlier to the victim that suffering through it.

The final method of escaping genjutsu needs no long passage or introduction; it is simply unconsciousness. If the mind ceases to function and stops controlling the body, then no genjutsu present can incur any effect upon a target. Unconsciousness also has a similar - but stronger - effect on the body to the Kai Release, disrupting the chakra flow by a substantial enough amount that any technique will fail. It is mentioned last within this text because, again, of the obvious repurcussions of applying the method within combat. However there have existed expert practitioners of genjutsu who have developed methods of temporary unconsciousness followed by almost instantaneous wakefulness that serve as their defense on the field. It should be noted by any reader that the authors of this text do not condone this...

Naohiro closed the book again and sat back, soon having to stifle a yawn as his mind slogged through all the new information. He found that he was a little disappointed that no books gave much direction on detecting and avoiding the initiators of genjutsu themselves, rather than escaping the technique after being afflicted by it. Surely that seemed like the most obvious defense? Although, he had to admit, learning an initiator of an opponent's technique in combat without succumbing to the connected genjutsu would in reality be near impossible.

He rose and stretched widely, then stacked the books and slowly walked them back to their respective shelves. I've covered enough by book for one day, he reasoned with a wave of satisfaction regarding the newfound knowledge, next will come learning some techniques and experimenting with them... I wonder who I can rope in to test some things on?
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Sun Sep 11, 2016 8:44 am

In Defiant Challenge: IV

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Taijutsu training: 1712/1500

- ~ - ~ - ~ - - ~ - ~ - ~ -

At a shout, two dozen bodies swarmed back to the centre of the training hall. Most of the group were teenagers, a little older than Naohiro himself, and he watched as they surged forward and begun weaving through the crowd. They moved quickly, harmless but alert and ready to react to an attack, until they found themselves a target against which they fancied their chances. Then they struck like a coiled spring, fighting with such vigour and spontaneity that it was a wonder to behold. The crowd around the combatants would part to give the duellists space, and within minutes the whole hall was full of sparring twos-and-threes. Naohiro remained ready, tense and waiting as he circled the group and eyed any lone stragglers warily, but soon twigged that a good majority of the fighting men and women were ignoring him.

That made him hesitate. Were they being kind because he was new, and giving him a chance to experience their so-called 'exercises' without immediately getting swarmed? Or was it a silent condescension, ignoring the small boy who they thought wasn't a threat? In either situation, he realised, he was not content to sit idly by. A sudden slap rung out from the crowd ahead of him as a sharp front-kick from one man hit its mark against his opponent, who staggered backwards and narrowly avoided falling to the ground. The struck man quickly righted himself, but then raised a hand in admission of the hit, and walked away from the fighting gathering. He moved to the side of the room, defeated but smiling. Naohiro didn't spare him much further thought as he darted into the crowd to pounce upon the victor. Every person here probably outclassed him in combat ability, and so he would take every advantage he could get, even if someone was revelling in victory as he attacked.

He ran in a half-crouch, close to the ground as he ducked and wove around other sparring pairs in his path. One of them lashed out towards him without so much as a glance as he neared, and he threw himself into a forward roll to quickly open the distance - but by the time he'd risen and turned to face the one who punched, the man was just as focused as before on his opponent. I need to be constantly alert, Nao realised, although it looks like they're only fighting one person each, it's really an all-on-all event! He turned and relocated his first target, and with a few hurried steps was within striking distance. He jumped after the last step, then tucked his legs in and aimed a powerful mid-air knee strike towards the back of the man's head...

...And sailed harmlessly over him as the man ducked casually. Naohiro staggered as he landed, trying to regain his composure, and as he turned back around to face the man he found a lazy, open-palmed punch surging towards him. He's fast! He hopped backwards a step and brought his own arm up to deflect the blow to the side, but the man withdrew his arm in a blur and then struck again, narrowly falling wide of a blow to Naohiro's head. The man grinned throughout the assault in an easy, effortless way that set Naohiro on edge. He's toying with me, he realised with a wave of bitterness. How dare he!? He scowled and moved to retaliate, swinging once, twice, three times in quick, darting punches to the man's midriff and sides. Nao brought up a leg and kicked twice, hopping forwards on his other leg between strikes to keep himself in range - and not a single blow landed.

His opponent was like a leaf, drifting on a warm summer night's breeze. He spun and tumbled away from every blow, lazily avoiding strike after strike and never once breaking a sweat or losing his taunting smile. Naohiro pushed himself harder, lunging forward to bring him so close to the man that he couldn't escape, and brought in both of his elbows to strike--

Pain struck the back of Naohiro's head like a hammer-blow, and his vision danced with stars as he spun away and hit the ground on his side. He tried to right himself and sat up, blinking away the assault of confusion and dizziness as he regained his awareness. Infront of him, the slim girl who had won the previous exercise moved like a hurricane as she fought the man he'd been attacking a moment earlier. He was mine, he lied to himself, grinding his teeth in annoyance, but forced himself to stand, raise a hand in defeat, and walked to the side of the room. Try as he might to convince himself that he'd stood a chance against the man, he knew that his failure had only been an easy strike away at any time. He'd left his back exposed as he concentrated on the man, and had paid for it with what would surely become a sizeable bruise later.

All in all, the bout had lasted barely a few minutes, and that long mostly because he'd been ignored by the well-meaning other combatants early on. He stood near the other defeated fighters, trickling away from the crowd at a steady rate, and leant against a wall to watch further. In as short a time again the exercise was over. The woman from before fell with the last half-dozen other duellists, and a thin, wiry man looking to be in his early twenties remained the victor. Naohiro hadn't noticed when his own opponent had fallen to the girl - the combat was so quick, so spontaneous, that it was difficult to follow from outside of the crowded group.

The group relaxed and mingled for awhile, and people who moments ago had been trying their hardest to bash each other's faces in clasped hands and exchanged smiles. Compliments, pointers, and heartfelt grins were shared between combatants as the crowd dispersed to relax and stretch for awhile longer. Naohiro felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Hisako standing beside him, scanning the room thoughtfully.

"Well?" She asked without looking at him, "Why did you lose?" Her voice was calm and level, and he didn't get the impression that she was either disappointed or surprised at the outcome. She glanced at him then, and pressed further. "How would one win a fight like this?"

"By choosing your fights carefully," he responded at once, without needing to think. That much was always obvious, but even more so in these exercises he was being thrown into today.

"Hm." Hisako nodded, but frowned. "Yes, true enough; but how, then?"

A slight pause, then, "By knowing my opponent." He grew in certainty as he said the words, remembering lessons from his father while he was a child. To know one's enemy was the absolute basis for most military treasises, as well as a keystone in any ninja's education.

"Yes, again, but there's more to it than that." Hisako made a dismissive gesture and returned to surveying the crowd again with her eyes. After a moment in which Naohiro hesitated and failed to answer quickly enough, she continued. "Before all, you must know yourself." The emphasis was clear on the last few words, and she fixed him with a searching gaze.

"Surely... Surely I already do? Who could know me better than myself?" He hesitated and looked down at his hand, flexing it experimentally. He knew the answer wouldn't please his mentor, but it had come to his lips before he could stop himself. It was true though; he'd been training to learn and develop his own abilities for most of his life - if he didn't already know himself, then how could he?
Whatever reaction he had expected, it hadn't been a laugh. He looked up in alarm as Hisako recovered her features, though her lips still quirked upwards in a half-hidden smirk.

"Oh, my sweet winter child..." she muttered mostly to herself, shaking her head in amusement. "Most men spend their entire lives trying to learn about themselves, and the vast majority never manage it!"

"Would that I had been born a woman, then," he replied without thinking, also grinning slightly despite the faint spark of annoyance her words had brought. "Father always said they seem to know everything from birth."

This got another laugh, and Hisako reached out to flick him on the head in a motion that was casual yet too quick and smooth for him to dodge. Despite the sting, it was probably the gentlest admonition he'd ever gotten, particularly from her.

"No. No, you have much to learn still. And a good way to begin," she nudged him forward again towards the crowd, "and a good way to do so is to fight. Fight until you can't fight any more, then get back up and keep fighting. See how you react once you're too tired to think, let your base instincts reveal themselves, and in so doing, learn about your own nature. Then build upon it. Teach yourself to act not through careful assessment, though that certainly has its place, but through instinct. Know how you are going to react to any situation before you find yourself in it, so that when it does happen, you can still remain wholly focused on your task, safe in the knowledge that your instincts will not fail you."

Naohiro stared at her, soaking up her instruction. It was rare for her to be so direct, or so helpful, and so he drank in the mini lecture.

"Fight until you're surrounded, backed into a corner with no hope of escape. Fight until exhaustion, desperation, and that fierce stubbornness of yours drive you to the extremes. Only then will you have some semblance of who you are, and what you are capable of. And by the time you're my age, you might have grasped the whole picture."

He nodded, beginning to understand what it was he was being tasked with. This would be a long day, and one that would be only the start of many. Helpful or not, Hisako's instruction usually ended up with him battered and bruised - and this seemed to be going nowhere new in that regard...
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Tue Jul 14, 2020 4:27 am

That Which Is Written: I

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Hidden away at a desk in the depths of his study, Naohiro hunched over a small tome. Learning fuuinjutsu almost always led to long hours spent with long tomes, or else even longer hours of trial and error when those tomes proved not to exist. Not for the first time he wished it was prolific a skill as simple ninpou, or elemental techniques. It was difficult enough trying to unearth the secrets of fuuinjutsu, but to find a primer on removing fuuinjutsu? That was gold, and so he treated the small tome with the respect its cracked old pages deserved.

But for all that respect, he soon grew despondent. The author described theories and hunches, experiments and observations, but included little practical or applicable knowledge within its few pages. After all his searching, it seemed he’d have to figure it out first-hand after all. It was supposedly quite simple, at least. Setting the book aside, he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and inked a brush pen, then deftly painted out the correct seal formula for a weak flash tag; strong enough to punish him if he failed, but nothing that would stop him from continuing to try, and nothing that would make a mess of his study.

With the new seal infront of him, he placed a hand just above the sheet, closed his eyes, and allowed chakra to seep from his palm down into the page. Concentrating, he felt it touch and trace the seal, and he built a mental image of the seal surrounded by his chakra. Within that he could feel his chakra from earlier, from the seal’s creation and priming. It would be a simple matter to simply drain that; but no, he had to treat it as if it were someone else’s chakra, foreign to him and harder to deal with. Instead, he analysed how to divert or destroy it. He’d have to overcome the innate power built into the seal. He increased the flow and strength of chakra passing from his hand into the seal, controlling it carefully until it’s power was equal to that already in the paper. Finally, he formed it into what felt like a siphon, tapping into the seal’s chakra and… bleeding it away, gently at first, then faster, like an opening floodgate. He maintained it until the power of the seal had fully dissipated, then at least opened his eyes and removed his hand. Where the seal had been, nothing remained to be seen; the fuuinjutsu, chakra and all, had been wholly removed. He smiled. Now, to try it on a more complex seal, with somebody else’s chakra… Grimacing at what sort of trap he might be putting himself into, he rose and left in search of a helping hand…
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*Fuuinjutsu • Removal
D-Rank Fuuinjutsu
After performing the necessary hand seals, the user will hold their hand over a seal, and begin to remove it. This removal will be successful as long as the user has more [Control] than that of which the Fuuinjutsu was sealed with.
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Sun Mar 20, 2022 11:50 am

Most of the training grounds within the Aisu complex were designed for the younger clan members, the many genin and chuunin who were driven to continually improve through Kirigakure’s competitive ethos. The chambers beneath the Winter Palace were something else. Restricted to all but the most skilled of their number, the halls here presented challenges beyond the scope of your everyday ninja. Many were the stories of those who entered and failed to return, and very few had even seen the deepest levels. Only an acknowledgment from the clan leader herself could grant one permission to enter.

Permission, as it turned out, was just one of the barriers to entry. The entrance to the underground training areas was situated at the rear of one of the clan council chambers, a place that was almost always monitored. That itself wasn’t an issue—the senior councillors likely just wanted to be aware of who dared enter and when, lest they be needed or not return—but the door itself prevented anyone unworthy simply wandering in. It stood as a tall, carved stone slab, with no visible handle, hinge, or even crack around its edge to suggest that it was in fact a door. Naohiro stood before it, considering. It was so seamlessly crafted it was, for all intents and purposes, simply part of the wall. Of course that’s exactly what it was to those who didn’t qualify to know about its secret. He’d been given such privilege just recently; now he just had to prove he was actually worthy of it.

He placed a hand against the slab and gave it a testing shove, fully expecting it not to move—and of course it didn’t. Closing his eyes, he instead allowed a small tendril of chakra to leak into and through the slab, probing and searching. Almost immediately he was rebuffed; a powerful barrier, likely a fuuinjutsu seal inlaid in the slab, seemed to repel his chakra and prevented him from learning the door’s secrets. He opened his eyes and sighed. He hadn’t expected just entering the training chambers to be such a challenge. I suppose that’s why they agreed so readily to my request, he mused, either I’ll fail here and no harm will be done, or I’ll succeed and prove myself capable to actually enter. The first test, then, was to disarm the seal and open the door.

He began to trace the outer edges of the slab, probing again with chakra and noting where and how it got repelled each time, slowly working inwards to determine the extent of the seal. It covered the entire slab, of course. All right. This, I’ve done before… Somewhat. Finding the center, he once again positioned his hand, but this time poured a much larger quantity of chakra into the slab, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel and flow of it as it pulsed into the stone. Rather than probing, he traced and shaped it to match the large fuuinjutsu formula hidden inside, holding it just beyond reach of the repulsion. It took far longer than he’d expected; so far he’d only attempted this technique on much smaller, weaker seals, and those he could actually see and trace by eye. This ordeal amounted to a greater task, pouring out chakra, controlling it, and all the while maintaining a mental image of what he’d traced to ensure the chakra went to the right places and served the right purpose. For almost ten minutes he stood motionless at the back of the council chamber, fixated on controlling his chakra release and manipulation until it finally matched the seal.
Next came balancing the power of the chakra against the seal, just like he’d practiced. He poured more energy into his counter-seal, then pushed the whole web gradually towards the fuuinjutsu. Where it encountered resistance he added more chakra, strengthening it and working it together with extreme finesse, drawing it closer, and repeating over and over until his chakra almost perfectly overlaid the fuuin beneath. Then, trusting his instincts to maintain the focus, he began weaving the chakra from his web into and around that of the seal; entwining it and wrapping around it, resisting the repulsion through an extreme effort of control, and then adding to the entire design a siphon to bleed the door’s fuuin of its energy. Suddenly, like a dam bursting, the opposing chakra began to bleed away, confined by his own and directed outwards to harmlessly dissipate. He maintained his own counter-seal until the last vestiges of the fuuinjutsu disappeared, then lowered his hand and staggered back, panting.

Sweat beaded down his face from the intense concentration and continued exertion of feeding chakra, but he thought it a success. When he probed the door next, his chakra passed through with ease, allowing him to feel, in a general sense, the internal workings of the door. Hidden behind where the seal had been there were five hollowed-out recesses within the slab, each one housing an object. He touched one with a strand of chakra and felt it resonate back at him, responding to his chakra. It felt like a small orb of crystal—or at least that’s how he began to picture it within his mind as his chakra probed it out. Around each crystal was an intricate network of chakra pathways connecting both to the other four and also to a mechanism elsewhere within the slab—presumably the hidden lock and means of opening the door.

After taking a quick breather, he returned his focus to the slab and pushed his chakra out, through the stone and into one of the crystals. It hungrily sucked up every shred of energy he gave it, and he could almost feel it glowing brightly within the door. But as soon as he turned his attention to the next crystal, controlling his chakra into that one instead of the first, the first crystal immediately began to bleed away his chakra. Within moments it was gone entirely. When he stopped pouring energy into the second, the same thing happened. He pulled back, thinking. Perhaps he could split his infusion five ways to charge all 5 orbs at once? Or perhaps place a web of sealing chakra around each crystal to stop it leaking?

It was worth a shot. Splitting his focus between several targets shouldn’t be too hard—controlling his chakra into two strands was rudimentary, three easy, but four took him a moment. The fifth strand was outright difficult, but after a minute he eventually managed the control of it, then one by one touched each strand to a crystal. He felt the familiar drain as he pushed chakra out carefully, evenly, carefully bending it to where he felt it was needed—but to no avail. Even expelling a large amount of chakra to each crystal, they inevitably lost the charge as soon as he stopped channeling it in.
The web idea seemed like a longer stretch, but worth the effort to attempt, as even a failure would no doubt tell him more about the door and its secrets. He experimented for a minute on one crystal, but without proper planning, struggling to come up with an effective seal technique on-the-fly. By now he was also feeling that the loss of energy was very much intentional; he was tackling this problem the wrong way. He was clearly missing something. He returned to his probing, searching again, until he again came across the chakra pathways running between the orbs. He traced them carefully this time, seeing how one crystal connected to the others. It appeared as if two particular crystals were the start of the pathways, which each fed directly to another two, and they in turn to one centrally located. The last one was the key to the door mechanism itself, but the puzzle clearly began with the first two. Curious, he paused to consider.
The first test at the door, the fuuinjutsu seal, had been an intricate test of control, at one’s skill at overcoming an unexpected hurdle, and the strength of one’s chakra. It made little sense that the second puzzle would be the same idea again, and nor did anything about the door suggest a harmful trap. Everything about it, down to its very location in this hall, was to ensure that only those who were worthy of passing were actually physically capable of getting past.

A slow smile crept onto his face. Only those physically capable. That was the secret. He began to probe again, but this time, he tuned the affinity of his chakra to that of Hyouton. He traced the pathways in the door back to the first two crystals, split his stream between them, and connected his chakra system to theirs through his touch. The resonation occurred again, this time seeming to fill his whole body, like a bell tolling within his chest. He poured chakra in, again feeling the orbs fill, radiating their energy throughout the pathways inside the door—and when he stopped, the energy stayed. The secret had been his bloodline all along; what better way to ensure that the secret training areas of the Aisu elite remained locked to the Aisu alone? The first two orbs, now brimming with Hyouton-infused chakra, passed the energy to the next set of two. But there the streams of chakra stopped, brimming and potent but stopping short of flowing into that final keystone crystal. He cursed, panting and now leaning against the side of the door from all the exertion. He was so damn close! What else could there be?
Thankfully with the chakra remaining steady in the other crystals for the time being, he was free to probe again and experiment with the last. He tried forming a mental image of a “bridge” of chakra, and felt a twinge of excitement as the stored-up chakra resonated where he affixed it; but no matter how he tried to connect the far end of the ‘bridge’, nothing flowed. Except, when it was disconnected, a faint flow of the energy began pulling down the ‘bridge’ strand and back towards himself. Perhaps his own body could serve as the conduit? He did so swiftly. The chakra surged across, through him, and lit the final crystal in a blazing wash of energy…

And blessedly, finally, the door shuddered. A crack sound ran through from behind it out into the hall, and some council members around the room turned to watch in surprise; he realised they’d never expected him to actually succeed. As the slab split into two and swung inwards, he turned and shot them a triumphant grin before stepping inside. The door swung gently closed behind him, but thankfully on this side appeared to have a much simpler method of opening, with a single mechanism and crystal affixed to the nearby wall that now glowed with pale blue chakra.

Immediately behind the door was a curving set of stairs, taking those who entered away and under the rest of the Winter Palace. Faint lines of chakra set into the walls emitted a dim light, just enough to see by, showing the way downwards. Naohiro descended slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness as he went. Eventually the stairs levelled out and opened into a wide corridor, approximately three metres across and equally tall, which split into a web of many different rooms. Hesitant, Naohiro edged forward, choosing the central path until he passed over the threshold into the first chamber. Something evidently detected his passing, and a door materialised from nowhere behind him, blocking his retreat. He checked it briefly before concluding that he’d simply have to press onwards, and overcome whatever lay ahead if he wanted to get out again. Perhaps, he wondered idly, he should have rested after exerting so much effort at the door to the training halls; but no, he had to treat this like a real challenge. It was a real challenge. Building his resolve, he turned to survey the first chamber beyond...

[2009 words: +5 stats => +4 Control, +1 Chakra Pool]
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu Mar 31, 2022 3:59 pm

Naohiro quietly lifted the latch on one of the upper floor windows of his home, pushed it open gently, and slipped out. He had no real reason to be sneaking, aside from the practice, but it felt natural to do so at such an early hour, with the sun not yet even kissing the horizon. He wore his daily ninja equipment—a few basic weapons and tools, his flak jacket and medkit—but had skipped preparing as he would for a real mission; he shouldn’t have any need for a backpack of supplies and spare weapons, and if it came to it, he could always transport himself back home again in the blink of a space-time jutsu. Out on the roof he breathed in the crisp morning air, then turned around and carefully closed the window and reset the array of small traps hidden around it. Then, with a final tweak to a stray strand of hair, he jumped up and away. He soared out across the rooftops, quickly passing from the tidy manors of the Aisu compound out into the village proper. He circled some of the taller buildings are the heart of the village, carefully dodging the few other early risers or night workers in the streets, building speed until he was running in a flat out sprint, vaulting walls, scaling buildings, and leaping between roofs all the while.

In a few short moments he passed from the inner circles of the village and out to one of the shabbier, but still organised merchant caste districts, and through that out towards one of the untouchable slums on the outskirts. These were a mishmash of run-down buildings, more shacks than homes, more scrapheap than storage yard. He ran through it all alike, paying little heed to the conditions or the people there scraping out their pitiable existence. All Naohiro cared about was making a beeline to the nearest shore—whereupon he leaped again, high and wide with the aid of a quick fuuton ninjutsu, out into the mists that forever pooled above the waters around Kirigakure.

He landed on the surface of the water by transitioning to the staple water-walking technique, and without even a moment of hesitation began sprinting flat-out across the water’s surface. Even with his eyes adjusted as they were to the chakra-laden mist of the village, he could see nothing in any direction—out here there were no obstacles, no people to avoid to buildings to skirt, just open water. He felt the familiar thrill begin to build in the pit of his stomach — that thirst for some adventure, even if he was only planning on going into Water Country this time, instead of further afield.

As the run continued he slowed a little to pace himself; as tempting as it was to race to the farthest shore of the lake at his maximum speed, it’d do him much better today to pace himself and run much further overall. Soon he fell into a rhythm, the impact-less falls of his feet against the cushion of chakra that suspended him above the water beat a steady running beat. Ahead, the mists began to glow with a faint, distant fluorescence as the sun finally began to rise, just cresting the mountains that rimmed the recursive island which he called home. He smiled, feeling free and content, as he pressed onwards. The mists slowly grew less dense as he neared the lake shore, and before he knew it he was striding up the far coast and towards the steep incline ahead. There was nothing gradual about the geography here. The water gave way immediately to a steep climb, directly up towards the jagged peaks of mountains that protected and hid the ninja village within.

He continued to run at a steady pace despite the steepness of the ground underfoot. He began to sweat as the cool, moist air of the lake gave way to sun-warmed clear skies above the blanket of white, and the heat of the day hit him suddenly as he emerged. About half way up he paused for a breather, turning to look down on his distant hidden home and taking a quick drink, but soon turned back to his run and kept climbing, climbing, climbing. In places the slope was nigh impassable, with entire slopes deceptively covered by scree or with jagged spikes of rock that prevented progress. But it all served his purpose today—he was only here to train, to push his body beyond its usual day-to-day activities to keep himself in peak physical condition. As Naohiro grew in rank and reputation he ironically found himself more often in offices, dealing with reports and paperwork instead of out earning his place as a ninja. He didn’t mind that life, but he had to be careful not to let it overtake him—thus today’s little journey out into the wilds.

[817 words: +2 speed]
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Thu Mar 31, 2022 3:59 pm

By the time he crested the mountains and stood in the sunlight atop their peaks, Naohiro was covered in a sheen of sweat. Thanks to the treacherous and impossible paths the run up had hardly been direct, instead weaving back and forth through what felt like a maze of spires and crags. Had he not travelled this route a few times already over the years he’d have found himself lost, turned around or trapped many times over—not that he didn’t have a range of ways to escape such scenarios, of course, but he didn’t want to cheat himself out of a workout today by way of effortless flight or direct teleportation. Those were tools he didn’t need to resort to. So instead he’d pressed on, one step at a time across difficult and steep terrain until eventually reaching the top of the climb. And it felt good. It reminded him of being a young genin again, fresh from the academy and without the experience or repertoire or jutsu to get by on, instead relying on good, plain, hard work. Simpler times.

He walked now along the ridge of the huge bowl formed by the mountains. There was no path, and in most places the ridge was as razor thin—and sharp—as a blade, just as you’d expect from mountains formed by one of the great Mizukage’s of the past. But he did it anyway, ignoring the residual fatigue from the morning of foot travel to get to where he was now. But it felt underwhelming to simply walk along after the difficulty of the climb, so he paused and instead made a detour down the far side of the mountain slope, away from Kirigakure. He walked this way, going down as far as the next lowest ridge line until he came to a sheer cliff face. There he stopped, rested for a moment, then squared up facing the cliff and entered a rudimentary taijutsu stance. He’d always thought punching rocks to be a stupid, thick-headed training method, but somehow—up here in the mountains, all alone with the sun overhead and a sweat built-up from a hike—it felt strangely appropriate. He took a deliberate step forward, twisted his torso and straightened his right arm out in an open-palmed thrust into the wall of rock.

Ha! he exhaled as he punched, and the rock wall answered in kind. His strength, limited as it was compared to some other shinobi, for Naohiro tended to fight with ninjutsu and his mind rather than through physical prowess, proved sufficient for his needs here. A long crack sprouted from his point of impact on the cliff. It was only a hair’s breadth wide, but the fact it’d formed at all was all the motivation he needed to continue. His hand—no, his whole arm, shoulder, and torso too—ached from the sudden impact into solid rock, and he could still feel the jarring solidity of the wall from the impact. But he couldn’t just stop after committing himself this far. He’d come all this way, and the day was still young. He took a step backwards, reset his footing, calculated the next strike and then surged in again, stepping forward and putting his whole weight into a second thrust, pushing into and through the rock wall, striking with the ball of his knuckles to concentrate the energy into as small a point of impact as possible.
The result was immediate and satisfying, sending a snaking network of much wider cracks up the cliff and outwards in all directions, leaving a small crater beneath the impact site of his fist. Several small flakes of rock rained down around him as his arm shook from the impact, the vibrations running all through his body. A line of blood remained on the wall when he withdrew his fist and his hand burned with pain—but he smiled all the same and stepped in for yet another strike.

The third punch came with less hesitation and build-up, but focused in the same location, had just as much effect as the previous two combined. The hit seemed to shake the whole cliff, and cracks opened wider as the whole rock wall splintered into chunks. Large stones and boulders, newly created from the series of heavy impacts, dislodged and fell outwards around him, forcing him to step back and dodge some of the raining rocks. Once the dust had settled, he picked through the debris and found several ideal contenders—large stones, each twice the size of his head, freshly broken from the rock wall instead of the smooth, weathered ones already lying around. He rolled two of them away from the broken cliff, then hoisted them onto his shoulders one by one, held in place by a hand each. Aside from the one arm that already ached from breaking the wall, it wasn’t enough weight to immediately strain him… But he reckoned he could change that if he carried them for the rest of his journey.

[843 words: +2 strength]
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Trial By Ice

Post by Valkier » Tue Jan 30, 2024 6:14 am

The long hallways and many chambers of Aisu Naohiro’s estate were still and quiet. Even the atmosphere seemed stagnant, with motes of dust hanging in the air behind closed shutters, dancing in the shafts of sunlight reaching in from roof lights and doorways. But few people. Both his life and the world around it had grown more serious of late, and now his staff were just as like to be guards and sensors as they were to be servants or entertainers. Social calls had been entirely replaced by those of business and duty, applicants and supplicants. He’d taken on a new ward a month past - a young girl named Makoto - who had remarkable prowess as a sensor, and under his tutelage the student now helped secure the estate even while she played and learned. But she was quiet, even moreso than he, and sought him out only rarely. No smiles and running feet from that one, no hubris to drown out the silence.

And Naohiro himself fit the silence like a glove, either caught up in the mood or, perhaps, the source of it. He sat hunched over a heavy writing desk - a gargantuan thing of polished dark cedar, solidly build and full of all manner of hidden compartments and secrets - in a too-tidy study, silent and motionless at the desk for long minutes at a time. The floor-to-ceiling shelves lining one wall had not a spine out of place, the stiff-backed chairs and their cushioned seats undisturbed, the coffee table its silver tray still polished and spotless. The only sound, aside from the occasional scratching of quill on paper, was the slow, sonorous heartbeat of an ancient grandfather clock by the door. Tock. Tock. Tock. That piece alone was a wonder - his father insisted it was made from the wood of Senju Haziwara himself, the first Mizukage and founder of Kirigakure, over four hundreds years old - but it didn’t draw so much as a glance from Naohiro.

“Two genin and a chuunin.” He muttered, hanging his head over an unfurled wrap of parchment and staring blankly at the words. That made over a score, now. Lives snuffed out almost before they began, prices paid for the glory of Kirigakure. Shouldn’t he feel more? His fingers bent creases into the paper, and he forced his eyes back to focus on that line, but no anguish came, and only a fleeting surface thought of regret. Of the lives lost, or of the mission failed, he wasn’t sure. In truth, he found himself thinking, unbidden, these casualty numbers are remarkably small for such an operation. How great the potential of our youth! Except, he hadn’t always thought this way, had he? He exhaled heavily and fed the paper into a candle, watched the flames consume his indifference, and sat back, one finger absently drumming a counterbeat on the arm of the chair to the chime of the great clock by the door. He’d changed.

When, where, and how, was impossible to tell. And yet, by his blood, he’d tried; his whole youth seemed now like a struggle towards such a mindset, but now that it was reality? He felt troubled by it, lacking somehow. Like he’d whittled a sliver too much wood away from a workpiece, cutting too deep and revealing heartwood where there should be none, leaving the piece forever marred and wanting. He got up finally, stretched, and paced to the tall windows on the wall opposite the shelves. He swept aside the heavy folds of rich fabric and let in the sun, watching the room come alive with sparkling motes of dust above the deep red carpets, the ornately worked wood of the panelled walls, the delicate filigree of the ceiling and cornices, the glinting of the worked silver chandelier. Then he turned and stared outwards into those comforting mists, preferring the absence of features to the exquisite display of wealth behind him. A simpler view for thoughts of simpler times.

Iiyashi Fuhen.
His mind kept returning to that man. At once fervent warlord and gentle philosopher. How funny, yet oddly fitting, that those two qualities seemed so often to merge in a person. A man with a blade is to be watched, but a man with conviction to be feared. A feeling had developed during Naohiro’s brief meeting with the man, something in the back of his mind that wormed deeper the more he tried to reach it, which seemed sometimes now to drive him forwards. It bridged the old and the new Naohiro, bringing forth concerns that hadn’t troubled him since his naive youth and mixing them with the rationalisations of an aspiring leader. That aspiration itself was a recent revelation, first rearing its ugly head around the same time. Or, perhaps, soon after his acquisition of the legendary Desire. For years and years he’d been content knowing his place and his purpose, safe and happy in the knowledge that he could simply strive for strength, strive to aid or perhaps lead his clan, strive just to contribute as one part of machine of Kirigakure, and not have to worry about greater things for greater minds. That was no longer enough. The clan seemed like such a small consideration, now. Was it down to that seed in his head that he aimed higher? Or simply maturity, experience, and understanding? The Great War? The Heart War? He shook his head again, and began to channel. A line of perfect white split the air beside him and spun open a gateway into the mists, and he stepped through and away.
[948 words: +3 Willpower]
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