Training in the Mist

The day, like most since his arrival within the Land of Water, was gloomy to say the least due to the ever abundant Mist that lingered over the land and to which became the sole icon of the great village; Kirigakure no Sato. Light from the sun that lingered over the top of the mist refracted off of the small droplets within it to dimly stream through the blinds of the one bed room flat apartment that belonged to a shinobi not native to these lands, his journey over the course of his life has led him to call The Village Hidden in the Mist his home. The walls of the flat were bare, the room empty with the exception of an already made bed and a set of weights stacked together in the corner. The owner of the placed nowhere to be found within the room, but sounds from the only other door within the flat besides that of the one leading to the world outside indicated his location.

Without so much as a squeak the door swung open revealing the newest addition to Kirigakure's military ranks, Rōarku Puredetā. His well built frame was something extraordinary for shinobi of these lands, despite being 16 years of age the tonality of his body's muscle mass was on par with that of Jounin of this village, a gift among several other that he received through his lineage. Fresh from the shower, beads of water slowly accumulated on his bare chest before running down the lengths of his abs, also foreign to these lands was the caramel color of his skin tone unique to far off places in the Land of Lightning. As he walked away his left hand reached back closing the door behind him while his right began to playfully brush through the short blonde hair of his, the last bits of moisture from the morning's shower being slung around the room as he stopped before his weights. As routine the morning's workout was about to commence.

By the end of the morning's workout, per usual, the room had become something akin to a sauna. Certain characteristics of within the Puredetā lineage made possible for Rōarku to see the various smells wafting from not only himself, but throughout his room. Synesthesia was the technical term, but to those of his lineage it had become known as Blended Senses. By the looks of things, the boy had some cleaning to do, but that would come later. For minutes Rōarku laid spread eagle across the floor looking up at the ceiling as he began to slow his breathing, although his body was exhausted from the workout his mind drifted in the sea of memories he acquired over his short life span. Memories of his brother in particular…

"Come on Rō… Pull yourself together… The past is the past, let it stay there and focus on your future… The Leader of Ghosts will be assigning you missions soon, much needed training is afoot…"

With those thoughts probing his mind the young Puredetā boy sat upon the edge of his bed, a look of determination mixed with reluctance resting on his face as he performed a series of hand seals. From his body three clone began to manifest, one from either of his sides and the third forming directly in front of him. Despite being clones their intangibility meant they weren't combat suitable though still good for a few purposes, in Rō's case a base for practicing his chakra control. Although he wasn't stopping with just the clone technique, with a simple nod of his head and the ushering of the word "Go…" plumes of smoke enveloped each of his clones. In the smokes wake three different figures stood where the previous copies of himself were.

Turning to his left, the boy observed his clone who had successfully utilized the Transformation technique to grow several inches taller and fairer skin, the insignia of the Village Hidden in  Clouds was embroidered on the clones shoulder and its flowing brown hair rested just above. The clone taking on the identity of Rōarku's previous female care taker when living within the Land of Lightning after his parent's death. Directly in front of him, a similar effect had occurred only this time the clone took on a  more masculine figure. The same insignia was embroidered onto the same sleeve of the same arm, but the hair of the individual was kept short and neat and lastly jet black. This one taking upon the identity of his male care taker. Last but not least, he set his sites upon the final clone to his right. It had taken on an appearance similar to its owners though slightly different in regards to its choice of clothing, bandages rather than cords wrapped the legs of the individual and it bore no insignia tying it to any minor nor major village. This clone taking on the appearance of the boy's late brother. Rōarku's eyes grew glossy as he gazed upon this replica of his brother, it appeared just as he had seen him the time before his death.

"Alright… That's enough, you're all dismissed…"

---

Novice ---> Intermediate Chakra Control

Chakra Pool: 140/150
Word Count: 1010

And just like that, the thrill of the hunt had begun…

Unlike most times when that familiar tingle was sent running up the length of his spine as a result of competition with others, in this moment amongst the empty training grounds of Kirigakure no Sato that driving urge to be at his best came in the form of competition with himself. The day was definitely heading in a different route than most as seen with the variation to the morning's routine and the events that took place to bring forth certain emotions that had been locked away for good measure. No, today would be a day to strengthen both mind, body and soul. Bukijutsu | The Art of Weaponry, had become his primary focus for the moment. Sparring dummies had been placed in different positions throughout the training field and for an added bonus Rōarku placed various plants indigenous to the Land of Water amongst them, this way he wouldn't rely solely on luck and eyesight to find his targets. Things would be done the Puredetā way utilizing his senses in a more profound way than the average human.

In the center of the training field the young Puredetā boy assumed a peculiar stance; his left hand was placed on the ground as means of support whilst his legs were dug into the dirt readily available to shift position or take off running if the situation were to arise, his free right hand had slid into the pouch on his hip where he held his shinobi tools. The Predator Stance, as he liked to call it, was most commonly used in conjunction with his Ghost issued tanto, but the distance of the dummy targets were his problem at the moment so he would settle with the few shuriken and kunai on hand. "Alright Rō… Locate your targets… What do you smell?... What can you determine about the smells?... Which of the scents come off as stronger and which come off as weaker?... All of this will guide allow you flawlessly guide your weapons to the target… … … … … … STRIKE NOW!?!?!"

Without another thought processed the young Puredetā boy's hand quickly outstretched from within his hip pouch releasing in the process two shuriken, what had been hidden by the pouch was that his fingers had gone to work tying a thin piece of metallic wire to each of the thrown weapons. The minute sound of the wire unraveling could be heard by the boy and after some time his hands grabbed a hold of the wiring, crossing his arms in the process. As a result the path of the shuriken had been altered allowing them to curve inward to puncture the targets that they had passed. Though not sparing a single moment, the boy released the wire and flung his hand back into his pouch only this time withdrawing a pair of folded fuma shuriken. Utilizing the strength of his positioned legs, Rōarku jumped into the air twirling in the process, at his peak his eyes flashed open taking a quick glance at his remaining targets. "Target insight… Let's try a little… Mmm… Foreplay…"

Folded metal weapons were launched from his hands, unfolding in the process and spinning like a single buzz saw in the process. A dust cloud kicked up around the boy as he landed back into his  fighting stance and although visibility was limited he used the enhanced prowess of his ears to listen for the sound of success. Schink, Schink - went the sound of both Fuma Shuriken impaling the practice dummy. An unimpressed look befell Rōarku as the debris cleared and he was able to get a clear visual of how precise he had been in the days training. "Ugh… This is still really sloppy work… The hidden Fuma Shuriken is still a tad low… Which means it probably will become noticeable sooner than I'd actually like it too…" Despite hitting the targets, precision was what the young Puredetā boy longed for and he wouldn't stop his practice until he reached the goals he set in mind for himself. Thus, he walked to each of the dummy target and withdrew his shinobi tools from within them and continued his journey for success in the art of Weaponry.

---

Sometime later that night, Rōarku would be found striding through the mist with no sense of urgency or care for anyone in the world. His clothes were torn under the pits of his arms and along the seams of his right thigh, a common beggar dressed better than he did at the moment, yet none of this meant anything to him as he continued the trek back home. All that mattered was that he had risen well above the standards that he had set for himself earlier in the day, in just a couple of short hours he was able to get a better grasp on his skills in weaponry and also manage to learn two of the most basic techniques that fell under the art. No it wasn't much, but for the young Puredetā boy it was the beginning of a long road to a much greater future as a shinobi.

For the first time since he had received residents within Kirigakure no Sato he wasn't pestered with looks of disgust or dislike, the people paid no mind to the boy foreign to these lands. It would seem that an honest day's work was all that it took to fit in with the people of this village, go figure.

Jutsu Learned:

Chakra Pool: 120/150
Word Count: 925