It was an awkward climate at the Kirigakure training grounds. Outside in the forests, not too far from the walls of Kirigakure, it wet, yet there was no rain. Instead, it was humid, like a rainforest. Dovy sat on a tree as his own sweat dominated every skin pore in his body. A shirt was abandoned by the 10 year old sailor boy. His torso was covered in bruises and healing cuts, showing a rich past of hard work and battles. Some of these scars were left overs of the most recent war agains the Seven Bells. Its a shame that such a young boy had to experience the things he did on the battlefield. Though it did nothing more than steal more of his childhood, he still came out much stronger than before. Regardless, his past never allowed him much of a childhood in the first place.

He rubbed his sore shoulders as he sat on that thick tree branch catching his breath from chakra control exercises. He had been alone in that spot for about an hour now, bored, hoping to encounter some one new to train with. While on his break, he laid back to rest his back on the tree trunk and pulled out one of his water canteens, water falling it into his dry mouth. Staying hydrated was more challenging for the boy in these conditions, so he was glad that he found the opportunity to train in the sweaty and moist biome.

After his ten minute break, Dovy leaped down from the tree and landed on the slushy grass. It almost took a bit of extra balancing because of how slippery it was. Picking up his cutlass from the ground, he decided to strike the nearby training dummies. There were about ten of them, all lined up shoulder to shoulder a couple feet apart with large targets on their chests and heads. The entire scenery was pretty generic. It was an open, wet field surrounded by tall trees. The dark, cloudy skies accented a rather creepy atmosphere. Yet, it was not something a Kirigakure native wouldn't be use to. In a way, such scenery can be appreciated by some. For Dovy, it was still a little foreign. He was more use to the beaches and islands that he grew up on. His tan skin definitely stood out amongst his other peers. To this day, even though he moved to the central city, his skin still gives off the salty smell of the sea. Its just about the only nostalgic thing the boy had for himself.

Dovy took out his rusty cutlass and began to practice his strikes on the cushy, pillow-like dummies. He wasn't the best, but he was very eager to learn. From his previous training, he realized that he needed ninjutsu to complement his bukijutsu, yet no ideas popped into his head. Perhaps that would be his goal for today. He continued to strike the dummy in the hot, moist weather, hoping that another would appear on the training grounds.

Word Count: [508]

I had grown tired of the wet, filthy city called Kirigakure no Sato.  The foul stench that the strong humidity and mist created every day was toxic, burning my lungs if I stayed in the downtown area.  It didn't help that I had to live in that filth every night because I was so poor.  The mulch of the ground sloshed as it was still wet from the morning rains.  This island was such a miserable place, and some areas were even worse off than before because of the destruction the Seven Bells army had caused.  

The thought of how much time had passed since I woke up from my coma hurt my head.  I still had no clue what had happened since the second day of the battle but apparently the squad of ninja I had been teamed up with were either promoted or missing.  The squad now broken up, I was forced to train by myself.  Thankfully I still remembered the way to the training grounds and wouldn't have to ask a passerby where to go.

I trudged as quick as I could through the mud, enjoying the few parts of dry ground whenever I came upon them.  The closer I got to the grounds, the more humid it got.  Soon it felt like every shinobi who had ever sweated in this place had left their sweat hanging in the air for the next person to breathe in.  I slipped my mouth covering over my face, using it to filter out some of the air.  The mask soon was stuck to my skin as was my hood.  I had only just arrived to the training grounds but was already sweating so I decided to shed some clothing, dropping my hood to let it dangle across my back.  The wind, when it did decide to show up, helped cool off the back of my neck.

Approaching the open grounds, I found a kid, looking to be half my age, slashing a cutlass wildly about at several training dummies hoisted up by planks of wood.  I counted ten as I watched the boy swing back and forth.  He was definitely more trained in the western style of swordsmanship.  My hand instinctively reached for the hilt of my own blade.  Rusty as it was, most samurai would have tossed this to the children for them to use as toys.  It still had a sharp cut to it, though nothing like it once had.  I needed a new blade, yet the manner of how it came into my possession willed me to keep it on hand.

A hard thud of the boy's cutlass against one of the training dummies snapped me back from my thoughts.  "Hey, boy," I called out to him. "Mind if I join in on the training?"  If there was one thing I had learned from living with the ninja of this village, it was that nothing was as it seemed.  There was a very high chance that the same rule applied to this boy and I intended to find out.

515

Dovy's dull, low rank blade skimmed across the limbs of the hay straw filled training dummy. Each smack would release a firework display of water droplets that flew into the air from the force of the strike. Still, no matter how many times hit, they wouldn't fight back. It was completely different than fighting an actual human being. A real opponent could respond to your movements, and most importantly, a real opponent had the possibly of outsmarting you. That was the difference between fighting a giant, stuffed pillow versus a breathing, living, thinking soul. However, to prepare for such a battle, one must learn how to strike and defend flawlessly. This was Dovy was taking the time to do right now. Practice makes permanent. He wanted to have a strike executed perfectly every time for any situation. His form wasn't amazing, but still above average for a Genin, especially those in his age group.

Though Dovy was a young lad, he was not to be underestimated. He was fast, experienced, tenacious--maybe not the most intelligent, but cunning none the less. He already met the minimum requirements to evolve his rank to Chunnin, but he decided to withhold the opportunity and seek more training for another year. The boy had huge dreams and large expectations of himself. More than anything, he knew that someday he would leave Kirigakure to sail the seas of the ninja world and make a name for himself. This was his motivation to push him forward everyday. He was getting close, though, to his destination. He could feel it, greatness was awaiting him, he just had to keep up the work. Dovy swatted the dummy while keeping his goals for the future in mind.

For Bukijutsu, his style was rather uncommon in the city. Swordsmanship was much more popular out in the western, or shore side part of Kirigakure where he grew up. It was there where Kirigakure navy officials battled swashbuckling pirates who eventually developed an alternative style of swordsmanship--a rougher and more ruthless style with little sportsmanship. This was the technique that Dovy inherited from his father and his crew as he grew up off of the surrounding islands. He stood with his torso at the side, shoulder facing front, and his cutlass aiming at the unresponsive training dummy.

"Hey, boy," a voice said to him from behind. Dovy stopped striking the dummy to turn around and see who this person was. To his surprise it was a young woman, masked. It almost spooked him a bit. Masks were not entirely uncommon, but it was still a sight for Dovy to get use to. "Mind if I join in on the training?" she asked him politely. Dovy scratched his head, wondering what rank she was, but he couldn't make it out. She appeared just as sweaty, but quite mysterious with that mask covering half of her face. Still, he was kind of glad some one else arrived like he originally hoped. He would have much rather trained with an actual person than a lifeless tool. "Aye, of course. I'm Dovy Hozuki. How about yerself?" he asked in his thick sailor accent. Most likely like all traditional training spars between strangers, introductions usually go by quick and the two ninja fight right after. Something felt different about this person though, and he was interesting in discovering more about her. Perhaps she could help Dovy take his skills to the next level.

Word Count: 1083

"Aye, of course. I'm Dovy Hozuki. How about yerself?" the boy responded, scratching his head, already studying me.  The light in his eyes seemed to convey his sizing me up.  A hidden smile came to my lips as I wondered what he could possibly be thinking about me from first glance.  First impressions were always very interesting when comparing later once more was learned about the person.

His thick sailor accent caught me off guard.  I hadn't expected such a deep rooted sound coming from a little boy.  I took a moment to survey the cuts on the training dummies.  He had been going at them for quite a while.  How long had he been here?  The boy was dedicated at his work.  I turned my eyes away from the dummies and back to the Hozuki.  "My name is Naoko of the Shimazu clan.  I am from the Land of Iron and as one of the Land of Iron, I am a samurai."

I rested my left hand on the hilt of my katana, clicking it just a fraction outside of its sheath.  My bow still strapped across my right shoulder.  I doubted the bow would come in to play against this boy.  No, it would seem that if we were to train together, our swords would be the way.  Wrapping my fingers around the hilt, the memory of how I had first come upon the blade rushed to the front of my mind.  The sight of the dead Kiri-nin's hand outstretched for the sword still vivid in my memory.  I hoped that I would be able to wield it in the same fashion as its previous owner.

"Might I ask how you achieved such a thick accent?  You sound like a man of the sea at such a young age.  The Hozuki clan, you said... are they a sailing clan of Kirigakure no Sato?"  The boy seemed to be more hospitable than the blue, fish boy I had met months ago.  My fond memories of other Kiri-nin weren't so fond at all, usually met with a clash of swords rather than a shake of hands.  Maybe that was just the way of things, or maybe I had a knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong times.


901

Dovy stood their scratching his head. "Sa-mu...s-sa-mu-aai. Sa-mu-rai. Samurai." He sounded out slowly. What an unusual word. A westerner like himself never had the opportunity to learn about the Samurai and their art. He didn't even know that such a group existed or what they were, exactly. Not to mention the Land of Iron? Whats over there? Curiosity ran through the young boys mind. Surely someday he'll find an opportunity this land made of Iron when he adventures off into the ninja world. "It's nice to meet you, Naoko!" he said Suddenly, a slight click alarmed the boy. His hand reached behind his back where his ninja items, mush like his kunai and shuriken, were stashed. No need to be alarmed though, it was only pulled out by the lightest inch. Dovy movement was almost involuntary, an instinct that he had developed. Trying to play it cool, he pretended to scratch his back instead while keeping his grip on his cutlass. "I like yer bow. By the way... whats a Sa-Moo-ray?" he asked. Hopefully she wouldn't think of him being sarcastic, because he was truly ignorant of the subject. She too, would soon ask a question after.

"Might I ask how you achieved such a thick accent?  You sound like a man of the sea at such a young age.  The Hozuki clan, you said... are they a sailing clan of Kirigakure no Sato?" Dovy wanted to laugh to himself a bit. "Well technically, to me, yer the one with an accent! haha" he answered playfully. The truth, however, was to be slightly covered up. Dovy did not want to reveal anything of his pirate-hood to this stranger. Especially one from a land that he had not heard of, belonging to some mysterious group called the Sam-aru-moo-ai. "Aye! I'm from the shore side. The Hozuki are all over Kiri, but the wet folk that stay in the shide' are mostly in the sailin' business!" he said, dropping a few shore side slang terms in his sentence. Surely she would be able decipher them fairly easily.

Dovy wiped the sweat off of his forehead and moved his damp blonde hair away from his face, looking up to who was clearly proficient in the art of bukijutsu. "Would ye like to have a spar with me?" So far, a sword and an arrow. Does she use any ninjutsu? If not, she may have a disadvantage then. Dovy's fighting style was a mixture of both ninjutsu and bukijutsu. Either way, she was probably way better with a blade than him, which would make a fair match. He was eager to fight, and hopefully learn from this so-called, Sume-aur-ri.

Word Count: 1529

I found the boy quite jumpy, twitching speedily to his back pockets the moment I unsheathed my sword just a half inch out.  His reflexes were good and his instincts well practiced.  This boy was well trained to fight, though by the looks of it, he was trained in a very different manner, maybe even self-taught.  My mind wondered at how proficient one could become without a teacher to guide him, to correct him.  Self-teaching usually leads to many faults in practice which leads to poor combat ability.

My thoughts were stopped as I stood blank faced.  Shock overwhelmed me while I listened to the boy poorly attempting to pronounce the word samurai.  Had he truly never heard of us?  Us samurai, who had lived long before there were ninja, who had fought and bled for these very lands years before the first shinobi clan came into existence.  Still, he greeted me with excitement.  Rather childish in nature, though that was a given with his youthfulness.  He reminded me a bit of the kids from my home village.  The way they always had a vibrant energy shining out of their eyes.

It turned out he was honestly unaware of my kind's existence when he asked of me what a samurai was.  Each time he said the word, I had to mentally forgive him for mispronouncing it.  Then he turned to a chuckle, "Well technically, to me, yer the one with an accent!"

The comment made me think.  Here I was, a foreigner to this village of ninja, and yet I was calling out those that are native to it odd in the way they talked.  I turned my head away, embarrassed by my foolishness.  A typical foreigner mistake, yet I should've known better.  I was the stranger to these lands, it wasn't the other way around.

A deep breath helped me regain my composure to face the boy once more.  He had asked about the samurai and I had yet to answer him.  "The samurai are the eternal warriors and protectors of the rulers in this world.  We are bound by blood and oath to a ruler, to serve him with our lives and our swords until death."  I told him the briefest explanation I could think of.

Too many words might only confuse and distract from my point. I had been taught that by my father, the diplomat, always trying to better my skill in speech.  Somehow I always ended up making things more complicated and confusing the longer I talked.  This time I would speak less, and hopefully mean more with my words.

"As for sparring," I continued, answering his second question.  "It would be my honor to spar with you."

I slowly slid out my katana from it's sheath, revealing it's complete, rusty length.  The metal did not shine, though there was barely any sunlight seeping through the clouds, trees, and mist to give it a shine, nor was there much metal not rusted to have even been able to shine.  Quite fitting to face a ninja with another ninja's sword.  I raised it forward and slid my feet into the beginning stance, quietly praying to the sword as if it was a link to it's former master.  "May this blade be as quick and fluid as it once was with you."


1465

Eternal warriors and protectors of the rulers in this world? Samurai, just the sound of the title had a noble and almost divine ring to it. Not quite mercenaries, and not quite servants; they seem to be the guardian angels of those who lead this world in all directions. What an awesome thing one could have in their resume. Still, the phrasing of that response almost sounded philosophical when filtered through Dovy's slow mind.

"We are bound by blood and oath to a ruler, to serve him with our lives and our swords until death." she said to him. Dovy wondered if Naoko has someone to protect. Perhaps she is here to accomplish a goal similar to his: to become stronger and someday go to where she belongs. Surely, her ability to dance with her blade must be above average than the other Genin ninja of Kirigakure. To say the least, she is probably stronger than Dovy in this field. Luckily for him, sword sparring was not his only option. Though he planned to mix and match his technique with both swordsmanship and ninjutsu, he still desired to help grow in his dancing, and perhaps Naoko could help him achieve that extra experience.

"It would be my honor to spar with you." she continued. Slowly, and in a calm manner, Naoko extracted her blade from its sheath. Just as Dovy's would, the low-quality blade scratched and screeched on its way out, revealing its imperfections. However, he knew the blade was not to be underestimated. Most likely, just like Dovy's, the blade has probably had the taste of plenty of blood, and it only had to thank the skill of its wielder. Quickly, Dovy shifted his stance by pivoting so his right shoulder was facing forward and his blade pointed at her.

"Alrighty, let's have a go then!" he said to her before quickly stepping forward to her. "Wild Bubble Wave!" Dovy spat huge volume of bubbles out of his mouth and aimed at the ground, next to Naoko's feet. These bubbles were to reduce friction, considerably slowing the opponents' movements to his advantage. However, there was something different about this water jutsu than if were to be performed by the average Genin. The Hozuki's great alignment to water gives them the potential to initiate water type techniques with more power than those of their average rank. He knew off the bat to fight her with respect, not underestimating this noble warrior's strength in bukijutsu.

Dovy darted forward with a horizontal sweep to the left. After the strike, he would return his blade back into center position to prepare for a counter and parry it. The boy's speed would be proven fairly quickly, and so would Naoko's as well. He hoped deep down that she would be incredibly skilled. Most of the Genin in this village were too predictable and foolish. Fighting them was no competition, but now he hoped that this newcomer would give him something new to work with. A samurai, who knew what these eternal warriors would be capable of. Surely this battle would be an interesting one. The moist environment now became a battlefield, waiting to see what would ensue for the Pirate and the Samurai.

Word Count: 2,068
Chakra: 135/150

Jutsu Used +1:

"Alrighty, let's have a go then!" Dovy declared to me before quickly stepping forward. "Wild Bubble Wave!"

Right off the bat, a hundred bubbles spewed out of the little boy's mouth and spread out upon the ground at my feet.  The sudden absurdity and abnormality of bubbles coming from a person's mouth shocked me to the point that I didn't move my feet.  Only my disciplined training in the sword protected me as the boy flew at me, sending a hard sweep to my left.  My hands raced up, angling my katana down in a vertical block.  His attack stopped, he pulled back and centered himself.

Though I wanted to return the favor of his cut, my feet would not move out of fear of what the bubbles might be capable of doing to me.  There was so much I had already seen from other ninja that these bubbles could be any and all kinds of trouble.  I dared not move.  With my feet locked, so would be my sword.  Instead of returning a clash of metal for metal, I focused my chakra into the blade and let out two harmful slashes of wind chakra to extend my blade further than my body would allow.

Swing.  Swing.  I started with a backswing, coming right off from the inverted block of Dovy's attack.  The slash cutting up and across on my left from below my waist to above my head.  My katana curved down in an arc.  Smoothly moving into its second slash that mimicked the first now on my right.  I centered my blade and exhaled a deep breath.  This boy would require my full attention to fight.

Chakra:

1475/1475 Trained Endurance to D-2
273 WC