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1 Restoring What was lost[Training - Invite] on Thu Nov 08, 2018 4:37 pm

Daremo

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OC Stuff:
Any Kumo-nin can join this. All I ask for is a post within 48hrs, and keep a posting order, if possible. Once the thread hits 12,500 total wc(for the max ep), feel free to break off into other separate threads or join the other one that will be post later. As from the Ep, this is mainly for anyone who wants to benefit from the training guidelines


It never fails. While he might have a general dislike for the Chuunin exams, seeing them as nothing more than legalized fight rings, and a means for those in power to view the product, that being the shinobis competing, Daremo still finds himself drawn to the spectacle. A proverbial moth to a flame, he always manage to find time to attend the event, arriving way before the exams started, giving him a chance to mingle with the locals and visiting people, and leaving only after the winner has been announced, after having gotten his fill of what he desired at the time. Yes, despite his own opinions of the exams, Daremo enjoyed them for what they were.

Closing silently closing the door behind, not wanting to wake up the remaining sleeping occupants of the house, Daremo exited the Uchiha’s household with a small smile on his face. His father-in-law and mother-in-law were both up and teasing their daughter, Daremo’s wife, about their relationship, and hounding on why they were not invited to the wedding. He could have stayed, and saved her from the lighthearted torment, but, he did not. He knew they were doing it out of love, and because they missed their child. So, with that, Daremo mentioned stepping out for a bit to stretch his legs.

He couldn't remember the last time he had actively gone out to train, important obligations, pertaining to his family, kept him away from the training grounds. He had grown somewhat rusty as of late, as evident in previous mission and the Siege of Inabayama an, and he was not okay with the development. As someone who was once the Tsuchikage, and former Sannin of Iwa, there was no reason why he allowed his training to deteriorate as it did. Other parent shinobis were able to handle both duties perfectly fine, therefore, he should be able to do the same. The fact he had, in his opinion, grown weaker, pissed him off. He was going to fix this, starting today.

Dressed in a light grey kosode, black hakama with a matching slash around the waist, and black Jika-tabi, Daremo stroll down the street. Even in the early morning, people were already out and about, mingling with others and checking out the opening vendors. Greeting those who acknowledge him, he continued his trek towards the training grounds. The attire he wearing being anything, but what one would expect, someone who was going to train, to wear. But, for Daremo, wearing but a Kimono would feel awkward. The attire being something he was accustomed to wearing since the earliest moment of his life. Wearing anything else would feel awkward for the male.

Arriving at the training grounds, it was not surprising to find many of them occupied with groups of shinobi. He assuming many of them getting training to take apart in the Chuunin Exams if the older and more powerful shinobi overseeing some of the trainees training was anything to go by. Passing a couple of training grounds, he eventually comes to one that was devoid of others. The training ground being circular with a forest acting as a natural barrier for it southernmost direction. The ground show signs of use with there being small caters, burn marks, and other battle indication sporadically about. Several large wooden posts, with the tops being flat, was erected the east. Each post was anywhere between two - five meters apart. The levitation of each post was different, some being higher or lower than the next.

Though he found the wooden posts interesting, and something he would check out of later, he needed to start stretching. Thus, for the next ten or fifteen minutes, Daremo warmed up his muscles in preparation for what he was about to put himself through.


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Daremo's Attire

Raiu Mizuki

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Jounin
The last time the yamabushi had heard about Chuunin Exams taking place, she was positioned as guard at the gates of the Village hosting them. It was the day she'd remember as Hastur's failure to protect Kumogakure. The day where the illustrious Lamya had infiltrated and trashed the arena to claim her title as the destroyer of Sunagakure and spread terror to civilians and refugees alike. That day, two of the kage had merely been sitting there on spectators' spots to enjoy the spectacle instead of dealing with a Nukenin to be considered a dire threat to any Village's existence.

So it was with certain discomfort that the mountain hermit of the Valley of Mountains sat on the bench as a spectator, watching Daremo warm himself up. Her own sobering attire hidden by a simple cotton cloak in hues of white, grey and cream. Her face remained hidden under the hood she had pulled over her head, her body somewhat leaning on a walking stick. She had never been a spectator before and wasn't sure what to think of it. All she knew were the excited stories of civilians looking at the competing genin in amazement, their day to day skills no match even for the weakest of shinobi trained in the martial arts since childhood. But to what extend those would amaze a yamabushi with the prowess of a jounin remained to be seen. The stories told by shinobi were generally far different than those of civilians after all, their perceptive gaze either scrutinising the blatant weaknesses of their students, dismissing that of their opponents or taking a peek at hidden potential of what they believed to be of young shinobi holding great promise.

Allowing herself a moment of daydreaming, Suzume imagined what it had to be like to see promising students and deciding to take those as personal students, or to gather them up and lead a squad. Such dreams may have been trivial to many of her rank but the hermit had hardly ever been member of a team. Under Lin's reign, she had supposed to be in one but the genin had hardly put in the effort to continue growing higher in rank than that of a genin, whereas that time where she was in a squad under the lead of her own father she had outranked her team members. Not to forget she had been sent on a diplomatic mission for Hastur to boot. The pride she had felt back then meant little now, Suzume never having wished to be the blind pawn servicing a kage such as him.

With a sigh, she'd snap out of her own thoughts and watch the slowly climbing sun turn shades of orange light into yellow as the morning progressed. Much like Daremo she was awake rather early. Unlike Daremo, the yamabushi had seen the earliest rays of the sun throw what little warmth they had into the arena. As a mountain hermit, living by the rhythm of the sun had grown to be natural, much like hunting game, fishing and foraging was they way she nourished herself. Long hours of meditation, healthy treks through the Valley. The occasional bandit beat up to avoid her skills from getting out of shape, while watching over Kazuki returned to her a sense of humanity, purpose and joy. The hermit smiled faintly from under her hood.





570


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MIZUKI RAIU
"Life is an Art worth cultivating."

☯ ID Card
☯ Techniques
☯ Arsenal

☯ Stories
☯ Growth

☯ Theme Song

Tomohiro

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Chuunin
The puffiness of his eyes said it all. His body was tired from the zealous journey. The road from Kumogakure had been long and almost treacherous. He didn’t understand why so many bandits had to attack his caravan on the way here. You would think a large group of shinobi would have plainly stated, “stay away.” Tomohiro had looked around the room as his cousins were still asleep. The other three young men that had been sent here to report on the events of the exams back to his clan. It had been one of the first times in Nakir history that one of them step foot in Konoha. Unfortunately, he had to be the first ones. His clansman had a deep disdain for this village that was quite passionate, but it seemed like the original reason for their dislike was lost in the annals of time.

The young Nakir got up and prepared himself through his usual morning rituals. His renters space didn’t have food or cooking accommodations, but that’s only the amount of ryo that he could afford. For a clan that didn’t make pointless expenses, they surely were very cheap when it came to funding a mission that deemed necessary. He didn’t really have his day planned out, but he decided to take his time out for himself. The trio of clansmen that came with him weren’t going to be bothered too much about where he would be going. They had been given a map of the area and he figured that it would probably be a good time to train. The idea of using Konoha’s facilities and training grounds disgusted him, but he would have to make due. If he was going to make a mess while he trained, it might as well be in another village’s training grounds.

Tomohiro stepped outside of the small makeshift living space into a decently empty street. The map he had started to already have creases, but it would it was currently all he had. The map was quite detailed and he figured that he would pick the first training field he spotted. He traveled to the first training ground in hoping he could burn off the sleepiness from his eyes. Slightly adjusting his leather kasa and trench coat, he began pursuing his destination. It was only when he arrived that he made a mistake. There were way too many people at this destination. A horde of genin from different villages had populated the training ground. The whole thing looked like a giant social event. What kind of shinobi spent the time in a training ground socializing? Tomohiro sighed as he moved on to the next one as he didn’t feel himself being around a lot of people.

The next training area he arrived at was quite empty. It seemed like there were a couple of people here, but he didn’t pay them much mind. Tomohiro sort of kept his distance as he didn’t want to seem a bother. Tomohiro removed the kasa covering his face to be hit by the morning sun. The light sort of blinded him a bit, but he would need to take make an effort to wake himself up. The young chuunin placed his hat upon the ground as he removed his trenchcoat and neatly placed it next to his hat. Tomohiro was left wearing a long sleeve black tunic with matching black pants that revealed a lot of his boots. He then proceeded to remove his Kumo headband from around his neck and tied it around his slightly large forehead.

Today, he only carried one blade. It was his Kenmei. The blade had served him well over the passing months. The blade was a proud part of who he was, but he figured that it was past time to probably sharpen it. Tomohiro being free of his clothes began stretching for a few minutes. He would then go onto unsheathe his katana and start practicing various forms. The shinobi looked as he was in a constant dance. His movements smooth and delicate as the blade reflected the light of the sun. The feelings within him were peaceful and calm. This had to be one of the few moments that he was able to relax since he had left Kumogakure.

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Tomohiro Nakir

The Grey Blade of Kumo

Jutsu List | Jutsu Reg | Weapon Locker | Mission Registration

Chakra Flow: S | Ninjutsu: A
Katon: S


Weapon Styles: Kenjutsu

4 Re: Restoring What was lost[Training - Invite] on Sun Nov 11, 2018 11:15 am

Amaya~

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S-rank
“So when are you two getting married?”, Amaya’s father asked as he slipped into the kitchen with his usual silence, leaning his massive form against the counter next to her as she went about making herself a cup of coffee. His arms were folded across his chest and the look on his face was stern, but there was a twinkle of mischief and playfulness in the Uchiha’s eyes.

“We already are married.”, Amaya responded automatically, a coy smile on her face as she added sugar and cream to the travel cup.

“I’m shocked Amaya! Getting married and not letting your mother and I come! For shame on you! For this I will punish you with twelve hours of silence!”, her father responded, his voice as stern as his expression but holding an underlying playfulness to it.

“Well, that certainly will make my day far quieter.”, Amaya’s mother teased as she walked in, kissing her husband on the cheek must to the “Eww” and “Gross” of her grandchildren that followed behind her. Watching her husband gasp in a fake fashion before pretending to storm out of the kitchen she chuckled before turning her focus onto her daughter. “Your husband has given me the slip, Amaya. I was going to try and convince him to cut his hair.”

“What’s wrong with his hair?”, Amaya asked after giggling at her father who returned only seconds later with his own coffee cup, the giant of a man gently hip bumping Amaya out of the way and stealing her coffee cup which made the twins giggle as well as Amaya.

“Nothing, dear, I just wanted to see if I could convince him to do it.”, her mother responded with a look of utmost innocence on her face.

Amaya shook her head in response, “Mom, leave my husband alone. I like his hair just the way it is.” The next few minutes would be spent with more playful banter and teasing. The teasing had started almost the moment she had arrived back to Konohagakure. She had expected to be gone for a while, several years in fact, so the fact that she was back so soon amused her mother and father greatly: them having made several comments along the lines of “We knew you couldn’t stay away!” and so forth. The elderly couple had taken to picking on her over numerous things: the fact that she had returned so soon, the fact that her and Daremo had gotten married without them being there, among other things. It was all in good fun, amusement for all really, nothing dark or mean behind it, just the gentle playfulness of her mother and father who were thrilled to see Amaya, Daremo, and the twins they had fallen in love with almost instantly so soon again.

With her husband having slipped away to go train Amaya herself was looking for a quick exit, not that that would be too hard. The twins wanted their grandparents to take them to the market and sightseeing - of course, Amaya was welcome to tag along with them if she wanted, but she was curious to see what her husband was up to, and wanted the twins a chance to spend some time alone with their beloved grandparents. So in the end she had decided to let her parents go alone with the twins, knowing both Zaylee and Mamoru would be well taken care of and looked after by her parents despite the more crowded atmosphere.

Speaking of crowds… she wasn’t particularly looking forward to venturing through them. Even as early as it was she knew people would already be about. With that in mind she didn’t rush herself in getting ready, and took care in picking out her attire for the day - a black short-sleeve top that stopped right below her rib cage, black pants and shoes, and the long jacket courtesy of Daremo’s grandmother that was white in color with the Guanyin clan symbol on the back and orange on the interior. After brushing her long, black, wavy hair she twisted it up behind her head, securing it with two orange lacquered sticks, ignoring the few spare pieces that fell down around her face. Satisfied, Amaya left her parents house, locking the door behind herself after stepping outside.

Just as she had assumed the streets were already packed, people coming to and fro, going about their early morning business. Amaya took to the rooftops almost instantly, using them as a means to beat the crowd as she ran and jumped from one to another, focusing on the location of her husband. He was easy enough to locate, though she kept herself as hidden as possible as she moved from the rooftops to the tree, using them as a means to slip into the training ground, noticing another familiar figure with him. With a playful smile on her face she would wait until the opportune moment before launching herself out of the tree and down to toward the earth, landing lightly not on the ground but on her husbands back. Her arms would wrap around him from behind before she shifted herself so that she could kiss his cheek gently before releasing him and taking a step back. ”Shame on you for leaving me at the mercy of my parents, after I saved you from a sneaky haircut, courtesy of my mother.”, she spoke playfully. Focusing her attention onto the female on the bench she would offer up a friendly wave and smile - Amaya’s usual passive expression she used like a mask gone for the moment.


Personal WC: 950
Total Thread WC: 2,885


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Specs:
Medical Ninjutsu: SS ☆ Ninjutsu:  SS ☆ Taijutsu (Striking | Speed | Kyusho-Jitsu): B ☆ Fuinjutsu: C
Elements:
Katon: SS ☆ Raiton: SS ☆ Fūton: D

AmayaGuanyinJutsuLocker


"Never get so caught up in learning from life that you forget death has lessons to teach you also."

Daremo

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It was wishful thinking on his part to believe that training grounds would remain empty for his time. He was under the assumption the grounds picked was far enough from the main ones that no one would bother come it, but, it was apparent his train of thought was wrong if evident by the individual spectating. He did not pay them any mind as he stretched, and warm up his body for what was to come. There was no way he could tell them to leave, nor did he want to consider who the person was. Sooner or later, they would see a glimpse of what he put himself through anyway.

Tossing a quick glance over to the spectator, nodding in their direction, Daremo were about to make the hand-sign for the shadow clone technique but stopped when a courier-nin appeared in front of him. “Kobayashi, Daremo?”, Nodding at being addressed, he watched as the courier-nin handed over a scroll with the kanji for Konoha’s blacksmith written in red ink, “Your order from Konoha’s Iron Dragon.” With a small sacrifice of blood, the scroll was unraveled, revealing a pair of black bracers. Slipping one, Daremo flicked his wrist, unleashing the ten-inch blade that slid from the underneath side of the bracer. “Thank you.”, He said, finding his order to be worth it.

With the courier-nin disappearing, probably going back to tell the store owner that the package was delivered, Daremo performed the hand-sign for the shadow clone. As the shadow clone was formed, a perfect replica of himself, Daremo felt the dip in his chakra and frown. A useful tool the Shadow clone was, he was not fond of how taxing it was on the body. Nevertheless, the benefits for the technique outweighed his own gripes with it. “Are we going to try them out?”, the clone asked, receiving a nod from Daremo. “Yeah, we will only be trying out ours though.”, sealing the other hidden blade up, lest he wanted to damage it somehow, he slipped the scroll onto his person.

Making sure the bracer was securely on his right risk, he looked at his clone who was waiting for him. “You know the rules, no jutsus for the first half of the training unless the injury is serious. Aim for vitals and deliberating areas but show some restraint for now.” some might find it silly to relay the rules of engagement to a created clone, but, Daremo had learned, at least in his case, his clones’ personalities tend to differ from his own with some of them amplifying certain extremes of his. There have been a few times, in the past, where his personalities caused him strife during training.

With the clone agreeing to the rules, Daremo bent his knees slightly, something mimic by the clone. Both of them knew one of them would need to make the opening move. To be the one who fires the proverbial gunshot to start off the spar. Taking a step forward, the action being mirrored by his clone, Daremo closed the ten-meter distance within a blink of the eye. His moments were relatively slow for his rank as it was apparent he was not going full speed, yet. Sparks flew as his jab towards the clone’s gut was blocked with a replica of the hidden blade, it sliding across the length of his own, knocking it wide to the right, opening his guard up.

Using his free hand, Daremo downward struck at the clone’s wrist wearing the bracer, causing the weapon to veer off course, missing from piercing his stomach. Foreign a feint to the right, he opted to continue to action upon seeing the clone not biting the motion. His diagonal strike was stopped in mid-air, the clone having retracted the blade to grab a hold of his wrist. Left hand came up to block the standing kick aimed for his stomach, gripping on the sole of the shoe, Daremo pushed the clone backward, causing it to stumble. Once more, the gap was closed, as Daremo took advantage of the opening given.

For the next few minutes, an intricate dance was performed with him and his clone. Both of them duck, dodge, and parry each kick and fist that was thrown their way. Sparks began to fly as the hidden blades entered into play once more, grinding against one another each time the clash. Jumping back, Daremo placed his hand on his stomach, looking at the small trickle of blood on his fingers, “First blood, eh?”, Daremo shrugged his shoulders at the clone’s comment. Indeed, he had gotten careless during their trade of blows, having caught a glimpse of another who entered the training ground, and noted their Kumo headband.

Daremo mentally cursed himself from being distracted by something not apart of the fight. He should have remained focus on dealing with the clone, worrying not of what was going around him, unless it was a threat. His mother would be kicking his ass if she knew he made such a rookie mistake. Not dwelling on the mishap any longer, Daremo ducked underneath a thrust, aimed for his throat, and moved into the clone’s guard. A series of punches were thrown, hitting the clone in the stomach before having to back away from a knee strike.

Looking at his clone, a wordless conversation was held between them before they exploded towards one another, moving a jounin level speed. The kitty gloves were off as each strike’s intention was clear and focus. Each perry looked up to open up the other for a fatal blow. Both blades would taste the blood of their owner, slicing into flesh, though not as deep as they could go. Blades clashed as Daremo jumped back, the action mirrored by the clone, and just as he was about to engage his doppelganger once more, someone would fall onto his back, wrapping around him.

Knowing who was on his back, Daremo smile while the hidden blade on his wrist disappeared back into its sheath. He did not need to tell his clone to disperse, the doppelganger doing it on itself upon seeing Amaya. Turning around to face his wife, Daremo planted a soft kiss on her cheek, shrugging at her comment, “I did not want to intrude in the fun you seem to be having with them.” he spoke, citrine eyes dancing with mischief. Both of them knew his words were anything but the truth, but eh. An eyebrow was raised, “Why does she want to cut my hair?”, he asked.

With Amaya here, Daremo knew this was the person time to give her the gift that he had ordered. “Catch.”, he suddenly said, tossing a scroll in her direction, “Thought you might this.” Although he had once upon a time never thought about using a hidden blade, he has come to appreciate the functionality of the weapon, and what it can possibly do in the right situations. “Where are the kids at?”, he questioned. He assumed the kids were with their grandparents. They having become smitten over Amaya’s parents, and vice-versa. “Also, how long did it take you to track me down?”, he inquired, curious on how long Amaya had been looking for him.

Glancing in the direction of the yamabushi, he began walking over to them, knowing Amaya would follow. Both of them knew who the yamabushi was, thus, there was no concern in them being a threat. “Never thought of you as the type to watch others train.” he spoke, there not being any accusation in his tone, just curious, “What do you think?” Never did he bother in asking others about what they thought on his training, but, this was the first time for everything. Plus, he was somewhat curious about her sudden appearance in the training grounds.


1322[1961]

Raiu Mizuki

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Jounin
Suzume would briefly be pulled out of her daydreams as a messenger hopped in to make a delivery towards Daremo. The man was full of surprises, making the hermit realise she still knew precious little about the man that had once watched over her in the Siege of Inabayama, joined her during a mission with her student Verdandi and seemed to hint at a past as an ANBU member. Like most shinobi, where he came from and what he did was shrouded in mysteries, Suzume only knowing him to be a Kumo-nin and the fact he wasn't from Kumo. As interactions and relations grew, she picked up little bits of knowledge about him. His knowledge in the application of Iryojutsu, his affinity for pestilence and a possible hint at torturing skill - that or the man held a stroke of insanity better left untouched - the application of suiton, an element they had in common, and the fact he was generally of greater skill than her. Although...

Watching the spar unfold between him and his clone the hermit was wondering if they truly differed that much in skill from each other. While there had been a time where such was certainly the case, her eyes requiring to strain themselves to remotely follow his movement, she could now follow every of his gestures quite well. He no longer moved as a blur, meaning he was either holding back still or her seclusion and personal training had somehow improved her own skills. That said, the idea of fighting one's self was spiritually an intriguing one as the greatest enemy of man was himself, but physically it felt like a bore - was it not so there was no challenge in predicting your own movement? After all, the clone wielded the exact same skills and techniques as the original. The fight would be rather predictable, would it not?

Seeing the clone end up with the victory of first blood, the hermit would smile at the 'victor' and applaud the clone for defeating the original. Then the pace picked up, the two going all out with the weapons they were wielding. Tasting blood but nothing lethal despite the possibility being there. Even then, the hermit found their movements not all that hard to follow. His fighting style was different than hers, focused more on confrontation, parry and direct strikes compared to Suzume's deflective approach, preserving life yet progressively crippling muscles and exhausting movement as she used the power of her opponent against them. The differences between a hard style and a soft style. That didn't mean she was not familiar with hard style fighting, the hermit once having been trained in a similar approach at the hands of her father. Every strike as lethal as her sword should be. But that road laid in a past when she had left Kumogakure to seek the solitude of mountains. Leaving war behind in favour of inner peace and balance.

And speaking of war... The Kumo-headband from another visitor would not go unnoticed as a black-clad shinobi entered the training grounds to attain to his own training. He'd take out a katana, piquing the hermit's interest with it, and started practising. His movement as a dance, fluid and smooth, betrayed he was no stranger to the blade. Much like herself, he was raised with the blade in hand. From the way he moved, calm and confident, in total peace without needing the slightest thought to know his weapon was the extension of his body, his lineage was as clear as water. More so, the dance with the blade looked somewhat familiar, distant words of an old conversation stirring her memory. About her father, who was excited he could train a student who understood the Way of the Blade like they did. In his eyes, crude and unrefined still but with a lot of potential towards more. She remembered that flicker in his eyes at the thought he could shape up a young man into a true warrior.

Ah... Melancholic moments such as these...

Then a woman would step in and embrace the man that had been fighting himself. Time already having shifted, Suzume missing a healthy part of the fight as her mind wandered to bittersweet memories. The two would converse, Mizuki recognising the woman as Amaya and waving at her in greeting with a "Hey~", seemingly triggering the two to join her in the spectator's section of the training grounds.

“Never thought of you as the type to watch others train. What do you think?”, Daremo would ask her as they reached her.
"I've learned to enjoy the movement of the Earth and Heavens around me as a hermit. I can say I would hate to be your enemy. Your fighting style is obviously not native to Kumogakure but it looks like a hard style. All intent to damage your opponent and leave nothing whole.", she replied. Then, with a nod towards the training swordsman a little further she continued, "He's a Kumo-nin. I can tell he's born with the katana in his hand, yet despite a seemingly flawless kata and fluid movement it's strange to consider him so open in his defences. I think I'll help him a little, see what news he has from Kumo while I'm at it. Feel free to join me. Unless you two are going to spar each other?"

After having heard their reply, the hermit would then stand up and gently walk down the spectator section to greet Tomohiro.





934
Total: 1504


____




MIZUKI RAIU
"Life is an Art worth cultivating."

☯ ID Card
☯ Techniques
☯ Arsenal

☯ Stories
☯ Growth

☯ Theme Song

7 Re: Restoring What was lost[Training - Invite] on Mon Nov 19, 2018 12:28 am

Tomohiro

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Chuunin
Tomohiro would continue to move his blade in precise movements. Each swing had been graceful. The feeling of the weight behind each swing of his blade, had been found with internal calmness. Kenmei moved as if the gods themselves had blessed the blade. It wasn’t often that he had been able to train with his actual weapon. The clan usually only used their actual blades for certain ceremonies. Most of their in house training had been done with bokken or other wooden weapons. He was glad that he was able to get some practice in with his actual weapon. The weight was great in comparison to the bokken he used in his clan training halls. It was the weapon that he prized the most. Though, he would look to getting an additional blade. Though, he didn’t want to deal with the burden of finding a blade in Konoha. His family would ask too many questions concerning his blade and he didn’t have to bear that burden.

It felt like it had been years since he last found this level of peace. His muscles had relaxed. Even the sounds around him were nothing compared to peace that rested within his very being. With each breath, his mind became clear and sound. This was definitely where he belonged as far as his state of mind. It was like he was back home enjoying hot tea by the fireplace while reading a book. Tomohiro closed his eyes as his blade cut the air around him. There was a definite passion to how he moved the blade. The track of time he spent in his suspended dance through the space around him. It was clear to him that he would need to ease of his emotions to find some form of tranquility. Maybe it was a good thing that his clansmen sent him here.

It took a lot of resolve for someone to find peace where there seemed to be none. Tomohiro’s way of thinking about being in Konoha had a complete turnaround. His clan had been looking at this the wrong way. Whatever the strife they had toward Konoha wasn’t worth it in the end. The strife they put themselves through could cost someone their sanity. The clan traditions were set in stone, but nothing in the tomes of Nakir history dictated every emotion that they held. There were a lot of things that the clan would need to see differently. He wasn’t sure what to expect from his clan within the next few years. Tomohiro made a promise to himself that he would do everything in his power to make a difference in his clan. Not just for himself, but for the village Kumogakure. The path he needed to take always seemed to be clearer in moments where he was able to find peace within himself.

Nakir hadn’t really made much difference through history. They were always that didn’t fit in to the stories of heros. Famous shinobi never hailed from their clan of monks. It was always seclusion. The seclusion which started to dwindle down their numbers. The seclusion that they just went with the flow of everything that happened around them. It was like the clan was in an endless realm of mediocrity. Sure they were master swordsman, but what was the point of being a master if you wouldn’t pass on your knowledge to help the village. The same village which catered and protected them from harm. It was Kumogakure that made sure they had everything they needed to survive. If those means of survival would end, the Nakir would be like many other clans. They would be scattered among the nations with the traditional unlocking of their doujutsu being a thing of the past. This was the reason for him doing what he did. At one point in his life he wanted to be known as one of the strongest in his village. Now, he would settle for being an asset to help anyone he can.

Tomo continued to perform the movements with his katana as he opened his eyes. Someone would approach him as he regurgitated the movements of his ancestors. Tomohiro would cease the dance and flourish his blade as he smoothly placed it into his scabbard. When the figure approached, he flourished his weapon and placed it in his sheathed the blade. He would then slightly lower his head. Tomohiro wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. Though, he kept his left hand rested on his scabbard. There didn’t seem to be anything ominous that he could tell, but he wasn’t going to just not have his guard up.

One of the stranger's gave off a familiar vibe. He wasn’t sure where he remembered it. The way the individual walked brought back an interesting memory. He remembered a fight back in Kumo and fighting someone who had been using barriers. It was fuzzy, but he did remember that day was the reason why he started training to use barrier techniques.That day was truly nostalgic, but the memory of that moment wouldn’t come to the surface. His hand tightened on the scabbard as he tried to remember, but nothing came of it. Tomohiro bowed slightly as he would be approached.

“Hello, I'm Nakir Tomohiro. How may I help you?” he responded in a monotone.

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Tomohiro Nakir

The Grey Blade of Kumo

Jutsu List | Jutsu Reg | Weapon Locker | Mission Registration

Chakra Flow: S | Ninjutsu: A
Katon: S


Weapon Styles: Kenjutsu

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