Meeting the Blade

Kakushin was waiting for a special someone at the Springs, a certain Asuki, who was a martial expert of the land of Moon. At first the meeting was supposed to be diplomatic only, but as he figured the springs was the training ground of the Moon, they might as well spar and practice their shinobi arts while talking and getting to know one another.

Azuki's experience with the SpaceTime jutsu hadn't gone as planned. One moment he was attempting a calculated teleportation, and the next, he found himself in an uncontrolled freefall, the ground of the training grounds rushing up to meet him at an alarming speed. The situation was far from ideal, a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of ninjutsu, especially when dabbling in the complex arts of SpaceTime manipulation.

"Watch out!" His warning was a contradiction in terms—a shout that somehow managed to be both loud and subdued, a testament to his ability to remain composed, even in the midst of potential disaster. His voice carried across the training grounds, alerting anyone below of the imminent danger.

With mere moments to spare, Azuki's training and quick thinking kicked in. Gripping his spear tightly, he executed a precise slash through the air, activating a wind jutsu that arrested his descent. The technique allowed him to hover momentarily before he landed with a gentle tap on the ground, a stark contrast to the potentially catastrophic fall he had just averted. "Space Time is a fucking pain," he muttered, irritation clear in his voice as he surveyed his surroundings, spear still in hand.

His gaze fell on the individual below, a stranger who had unwittingly become a part of his accidental experiment. Azuki's initial look of annoyance softened almost immediately. "Apologies," he offered, recognizing the need to uphold the image and morals of the village, especially in his capacity as a figure of authority and respect.

The lack of a headband on the stranger didn't escape Azuki's notice, marking him potentially as one of the missing-nin, a detail that warranted caution yet also piqued Azuki's interest. Despite his own headband worn loosely around his neck rather than in the traditional manner, Azuki knew the importance of trust and diplomacy, particularly with those whose allegiances were unclear.

"If I interrupted your training, I can offer my aide if needed," he proposed, extending an olive branch and an opportunity. His mastery was in taijutsu, and while he might not possess sensory abilities to gauge the stranger's skills or intentions fully, he was willing to take the chance. This offer was more than just a gesture of goodwill; it was a reflection of Azuki's commitment to the village and its inhabitants, a willingness to engage, educate, and perhaps even bridge gaps between disparate elements within their society.

The encounter, unexpected as it was, presented an opportunity for connection, learning, and possibly even collaboration. Azuki stood ready, open to the possibilities this chance meeting might unfold, his actions guided by the principles and responsibilities that defined his role within the village.

WC:444

as the wait got more and more long, Kakushin transformed the hours into thinking moments, time to recuperate of his harsh life, and to reflect on his wills, desires, and plans for the future and those who would believe in him. As he kept in his complex and deep mind, minutes after minutes, he would occupy his hand and practice his chakra by weaving simple seals and doing motions with his fingers in a particular motion, as if he was carefuly caressing the hair of a young maid, instead gently brushing the air and emptyness before himself. The sweet and soft gesture would sprout the thinest roots and branches from the ground, making them twist and braid into small bonzais, before growing leaves of a vibrant and lively green, and flowers of a unique pastel washed out pink, dark but pale at the same time, embodying something both pretty and sad, both love and death.

But in his train of toughts, Kakushin wasnt really paying attention to the real world anymore, and was suddently really suprised by the sound of the voice of someone. Raising immediately his eyes from the plants to look who it was, the fabricated senju didnt understand the source of the voice for the first few seconds, before starting to look up to see a man crashing almost into himself. As a reflex, the Senju would weave a couple of handseals and simply dodge by sinking into the ground, molding the earth under him like it was now water, making him almost totally disappear. With the landing of the man now secured by his windy maneuver, the Senju interupted his descent in time, reverting the jutsu to rise back up, showing his entire body and length to the landing man, who presented his appologies for such a radical behavior.

''You startled me, thats for sure.'' Would say the man with a smile as convincing and naturally appearing as it was fake and for the Senju, undistinguishable from a real smile, but devoid of true emotions inside, a facade to reassure from someone without feelings.


''You only interupted some deep toughts I was having with myself... Thinking about the nature.'' Would add in a deep pensive voice the tall brown haired man. He was indeed thinking about the nature, but more precisely the nature of mankind, of their ways.

''It would be really a pleasure to train and learn with you. I see you are wearing a brand new headband of the land of the Moon, am I right? And whom might you be?'' asked away in a polite and diplomatic voice the man appearing as a hermit or a philosoph of some kind, austere in his clothing and appearance, yet full of mysticism, and presence.

Caught off-guard by the sudden intrusion into his thoughts, Azuki quickly recalibrates, taking the unexpected encounter in stride. With a swift movement, he centers himself, his spear becoming an extension of his resolve. His introduction as "General Azuki Shinoda" is tinged with a clear reluctance, the formal title sitting awkwardly with him, as though each syllable weighs heavier than the last. The brief flicker of distaste crossing his features reveals his discomfort with the ceremonious aspects of his position, a sentiment swiftly followed by a light, self-deprecating chuckle that momentarily lifts the veil on the man behind the title.

"I detest formalities, you know," Azuki admits, his voice a blend of earnestness and a touch of humor, an indication of his desire for a more genuine connection, even in unexpected circumstances. The slight smile that accompanies his words is rare, a fleeting glimpse into a softer side seldom shown.

Positioning himself at a comfortable distance, Azuki twirls his spear, his posture relaxed yet undeniably adept, embodying the duality of readiness and ease. "My training isn't very fun. Effective," he clarifies, the emphasis on 'effective' underscoring his practical approach to combat training—no frills, just results. His proposal to focus on battle tactics or sparring, an offer to engage in situational training, reflects his belief in preparation and adaptability as the cornerstones of a warrior's skill set.

The encounter, while abrupt, doesn't derail Azuki from his purpose. Instead, it presents an opportunity to impart his philosophy on combat and training—a philosophy that prizes efficiency, strategy, and the art of war above all. His readiness to train, to spar, or to delve into the intricacies of jutsu usage with a stranger is indicative of his role as a protector and educator within the village, a role he embraces with a blend of seriousness and an undercurrent of reluctance towards the formalities it entails.

In this moment, General Azuki Shinoda stands not just as a figure of authority, but as a shinobi dedicated to the betterment of those around him, willing to extend his knowledge and experience even under the most unexpected of circumstances.

WC:352 TWC: 796