"Gisei Lake." The words spoke were quiet and of a low and guttural tone. Loose stone and dirt crunched beneath his boots as his weight came to rest on the balls of his feet, though the noise was drowned out by the loud ambient sounds of rushing water - and not just any rushing water either. The powerful roaring of a waterfall just thirty meters away pounded against his eardrums, eliminating nearly all surrounding noise.

"One of Iwagakure's few water supplies... The locals say it was created by a single man, who worked himself into his grave to ensure the village would have a stable supply of water..." His musings overlapped the sounds of the waterfall. Slowly, a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he briefly reminisced over how fortified and heavily secured the village hidden in the stones was. Their administrative building was more akin to a bunker than an office, and rightfully so. There were too many threats that could - and would - eliminate weakness at the first given opportunity. Takao lowered himself into a crouch, and rested his forearms across his bent knees.
"They can't rely solely on this... can they? It's such a blatant security risk for a place that has the biggest hard on for keeping things under lock and key." His grey-hued gaze lingered as the smile dimmed and disappeared. He glanced about the lake and saw it was calm and undisturbed. Not a soul in sight, which was exactly how he preferred things to be. "Ah... Just as well. It'll make for a good place to train 'til I'm back in Konoha."

He hadn't even needed to close his eyes to aid in concentration before chakra flooded into his left hand and foot. It was an odd method of descent when he could simply walk down the wall as if he was in control of gravity itself, yet still his preferred means of progressing down the face of the cliff. He could think of much better places to occupy his time in, yet each and every one could only be found hundreds of miles from his temporary home away from home.

His hand gripped the edge of the cliff and his body vaulted over. Before he could descend, his left foot slammed into the sheer stone surface. With only his left hand and left foot making contact, he began to slowly slide down the mountain. The chakra that had accumulated in his limbs was precise; it was exactly how much was needed to allow him to slide down at a leisurely pace while maintaining enough grip that he wouldn't fall. A trick he picked up while training his control over the chakra that resided within his body when said body was too tired or too injured to be worked. There were some occasions he was quietly thankful for his injury that had since been healed, although those occasions were seldom. It had given him plenty of opportunity to exercise his mind, which was a factor he had left woefully neglected.

"What will I even do when I'm back in Konoha..?" His eyebrows creased at the thought. Things were... safe. Calm. The world was at peace. Hao Uchiha was dead, thanks to the combined efforts of several shinobi of Konohagakure. Every time the thought crossed his mind, he cursed under his breath, and this occasion was no different. He should have been there. He should have fought. Hao Uchiha was not specifically his to kill, as he had never done Takao any personal wrongs, yet the raven-haired teen held such contempt for the man. He wanted to be the one to end him, the one whose names they would praise and the one whose legacy they would speak of for generations to come. Yet instead, he was the one who called the Summit that lead to the deaths of several esteemed shinobi. 

With grit teeth, he hissed out a breath. "...and they blame me for their own leader's ineptitude. If anything, I did them a favour..." As the words escaped his mouth, regret washed over him. Death was not an event to be taken lightly, even that of his enemies. Hatred bred more hatred, which bred more war and bloodshed, and he didn't want that. He didn't want the hatred and ire that lingered in his gut, that formed so many negative thoughts, and yet... it was there, lingering. His own personal evil, the proverbial devil on his shoulder trying to lead him astray from the path of righteousness. His mind was at war with itself, and he couldn't even begin to comprehend what he needed to do to stop it. If it could he stopped.

He shook his head. "Alright... Let's get my mind off that." His words were spoken aloud in a clear tone, yet he knew nobody was there to hear them. As was the usual course of action for him when there were thoughts to be distracted from, he would opt for training. Of course, that had been his original purpose for traveling to the lake in the first place, on top of various other reconnaissance purposes. He liked to know his surroundings, and he liked to know them thoroughly.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see in Iwagakure. He found it to be a boring village, devoid of much that would interest him despite their best attempts to do so. They seemed to have tried to modernize themselves in line with the other villages, and had done a fairly decent job considering, yet the location still left something to be desired. There was just something about Konohagakure that stood above all the other villages in his eyes. It was the first of its kind, the strongest. The stalwart defender amidst a world of flames. They were always the first to be targeted due to their standing as one of, and if not the strongest shinobi village. He was proud to call it his home, and he would surely die before he allowed for any harm to befall them as a result of his actions.

Despite the lack of scenery, he had still found a location suitable for training. As was usual for him, he was opting to train his body over his mind on the pleasant but cool mid November Iwagakure evening. "Right... Strength and muscular endurance for today, then cardiovascular endurance and martial arts drills tomorrow." A quick list of verbal instructions helped to keep his mind on track. True to his own word, he lowered himself to the ground. His feet were pushed together at the ankles, and his arms were bent in a specific and practiced position. He was no stranger to exercise; his body could surely attest to such a claim.

He started with a simple warm up - one hundred push ups. His form was impeccable, it was clear he'd drilled the motions a thousand times over to effortlessly fall into a rhythm as close to perfection as he did. With natural and controlled breathes, his body was pushed up and lowered down. It tore the muscles in his chest, arms, and back with each simple motions, though the damage was absolutely minimal. It would repair itself by the end of the day, and he was sure he wouldn't even notice a difference. This was, after all, just his way of warming up.

Not long at all had passed before he was done. A minor fatigued breath escaped as the words "one hundred" left his chest. Takao pushed his body back up and held it there without locking his joints. Despite holding his weight, the lack of motion made holding his body up easier, and allowed for some of his energy to flood back into his body. "Alright, next!" A low toned and guttural grunt escaped from his throat as he kicked his legs up off the ground and supported his weight with his arms. He effortlessly fell into a hand stand with his legs extended straight into the air. Slowly, they bent at the knees to compensate for balance.

In a motion not dissimilar to the push ups he'd been doing just moments prior, he used the developed muscles in his upper body to lower himself toward the ground. With his bent legs he managed to maintain his balance as his nose touched the ground, then raised back upward. With the entirety of his body's weight now resting on his arms and shoulders, he made special care to avoid locking his joints, and eased himself into each motion to prevent the unintentional causing of damage to himself. His muscles ripped and tore from the simple action of slowly rising and falling.

A grin weaseled its way onto his face as sweat began to gather on his face. He could feel how weak he'd become despite his best attempts at staying in shape. There was once a time when he was a pinnacle, the epitome of taijutsu mastery. There were those with techniques, but nobody had possessed the same discipline as he did. His injury had brought those days to an abrupt and premature end, but to give up on his attempts to reclaim such a self proclaimed title meant that he was never fit to have held it in the first place. With grit and bared teeth, he forced himself beyond the threshold that he had placed himself. One hundred became two hundred, two hundred became three, and he kept going even after he felt as though his arms were beginning to lose all strength.

Overworking himself was bound to be more detrimental to him than beneficial, but he wasn't just training his body anymore. He was powering through the limitations he set for himself, and then the limitations his body set for itself. He was training his mind, forcing it past the point that it believed it couldn't go and, as a result, showed it just how strong he knew he could be. It was an odd mental state to be in; showing ones mind that it could surpass the limits that ones mind already knew it could surpass, yet didn't believe such was the case. Surely doing so would be more harmful to his body than it would be beneficial, but it wasn't so much about doing as many hand stand pushups as he could do in one sitting to make his muscles bigger and stronger. It was a different kind of training. One that would help him in battle much more than punching harder ever could.

His training continued with various other exercises. They were all relatively simple, meant more to push his limits than to increase the baseline of his strength. True to his earlier words, his focus laid primarily on muscular endurance. After finishing with the hand stand pushups, he gave his body a short rest before resuming the earlier position. This time around he simply walked on his hands for some distance. His gloved hands carried him around the lakeside, forcing him to power through the fatigue that he could feel working its way into his presence.
"Come on..." With bared and grit teeth, his words escaped as an exhausted hiss. Eyebrows were furrowed intensely, sweat had accumulated on his face; all in all it was shaping to be a decently beneficial workout so far. He made himself endure the self-inflicted training.

Although he had lost track of time at some point, a general grasp on his perception of time told him that he'd been at it for about two hours. With a plethora of various exercises performed with the desire to push his limits completed, he opted to scale back up the sheer cliff face he had descended earlier and return to the village hidden in the stones for some much needed respite.

- -

Gifted Trait (Permanent 20% Wordcount Reduction on Training Topics)

[60   -/60] - Strength E > E-1
[120/120] - Strength E-1 > E-1
[180/180] - Strength E-2 > E-3
[240/240] - Strength E-3 > D

[260/260] - Strength D > D-1
[320/320] - Strength D-1 > D-2
[360/360] - Strength D-2 > D-3
[420/420] - Strength D-3 > C

[1966] - Total Word Count
    --6- - Remaining

A new day brought forth new opportunities; a fresh start to a goal that always seemed just out of reach. To attain the kind of power he wanted would likely always be without end, a race without a finish line, yet one he would run with everything he had despite it being a proverbial möbius strip. He found himself at the same location as last time, admiring the scenery of the otherwise desolate Earth Country. There were worse places to spend a day, he thought to himself. His regime hadn't changed since yesterday. The day prior had been spent on muscular strength and endurance, and he definitely hadn't gone easy on himself. The soreness in his arms were a clear indication of his dedication. On this day, the training had shifted in style, but not in intensity.

Takao brought his hands together and formed a sequence of five hand seals with impressive accuracy and speed. Despite his clan's ability to channel chakra without the use of his hands, he had kept a plethora of his skills sharp, and hand signs were included in such a skill set. After all, he had techniques that required their usage, such as the one he'd just used. He split chakra from his core and shaped it into a humanoid shape, which took on the appearance of himself. It was far from being the ideal technique for this type of training, but he wasn't planning on dishing out the damage. His intentions were to perceive and receive where possible.

As the doppelganger took shape, they shared a wordless glance. The real Takao rolled his sleeves up just below his elbows and assumed a defensive stance. His right hand was clenched into a loose fist and lowered slightly while his left remained open and at his side. His feet were positioned apart and knees were slightly bent, giving the stance an airy feeling that would facilitate the usage of quick movements and speedy reactions. His ball of his rear foot was raised slightly, and the weight of his body continuously shifted back and forth from his rear to leading foot. Both the stance and the martial art in question were perfect for Takao's style of combat. Observe and adapt. Take only what was useful, and discard the rest. The clone assumed a more offensive stance, a mixture of what could be described as both a muay thai and a typical southpaw stance. The two exchanged a slight nod of their heads to signal that they were both ready to begin, and the offensive stanced clone began a slow but cautious advance. The experience that the clone garnered would be discarded entirely, but such was the nature of a more primitive doppelganger technique. Until he bothered with learning a more suitable alternative, he was stuck with making what he had work.

The clone began its offensive. Its right arm shot rocketed forward with speed and strength to rival Takao's own, unsurprisingly. Takao responded by raising his right forearm and pushing the strike aside. It was his attention to throw his doppelganger off balance by catching it by the wrist and pulling it's weight down. However, things rarely went perfectly to plan, and the doppelganger reacted accordingly by pivoting on its left foot and quickly raising its right leg. By whipping its hips around, the leg snapped forward with impressive momentum.
He shifted his weight and quickly dropped into a crouched stance after releasing the clone's wrist. The roundhouse swung overhead while the real Takao stretched his right leg out and swept for the clone's only point of contact; his left leg. The sweep connected and the clone was indeed swept off balance. While falling, it twisted its torso and outstretched its hands to the ground. It caught itself before it fell and quickly twirled its legs around like a whirlwind, then dropped its hand stand to its elbows.

The clone's legs swung around like a violent tempest, aimed straight for Takao. His weight was thrown around again, although this time aimed backward. His legs were swept upward and his arms were placed behind his head on the ground to facilitate the backward somersault turned into a vault. Takao flipped backward a single time before landing on his feet again, ready to receive another assault from his clone, who didn't disappoint. By the time he landed, the clone was upon Takao yet again with a new torrent of strikes and kicks, each of which were observed, calculated, and responded to in a way that didn't exert an excess of energy.

The clone swung its left hand with an open palm in front of Takao's face, then attempted to quickly follow up with a right jab. Anticipating the maneuver that Takao would've attempted to do himself if he were on the offensive, the raven-haired teen brought his left forearm level with the strike and thrust the arm upward. At the same time, he rolled his shoulder and wrapped his left arm around the clone's arm and brought his right up in a similar position. His feet shifted apart to root his stance and his hips twisted, effectively turning his back to the clone whose arm now rested across his shoulder. Takao's right foot slid forward and knocked the clone off balance, allowing him to throw it over his shoulder and slam it into the ground. The damage wasn't sufficient to dispel the clone, since he was just playing "defensively" after all.
It was quick to recover, and so was Takao. Before a second had passed, they were back at it. He mused that his ability to receive and react vastly outweighed his ability to deal out damage, but such a difference was precisely the point of this training. Attacking was always a risk, it opened one's defenses to counters, which was precisely why leading the battle with his advances was paramount. If he could control the flow of the battle, anticipate exactly how his opponent would react to how he moved and as a result maneuver accordingly, then the result would be decided from the beginning.

However, to do so was also a risk. Putting his faith into his expectations and his self assumed ability to predict how an opponent would react was a terribly unreliable tactic. He had to take into account the unexpected-- predict the unpredictable. Combat was not unlike a game of chess, where the victor was all too often the one who thought the most moves ahead.

The clone struck out at him again. This time it unleashed fast, accurate, and well guarded jabs and strikes in lightning fast combinations of three. Right jab, right jab, left cross. Just by watching his own clone's footwork, he could tell that the expected one two combination was in fact a one one two, performed either to test the waters of his own defense or even throw him off with the unexpected right cross.
Takao evaded the first jab, then swung his right arm around and caught the second jab on its return with his forearm. He knocked it aside, thus breaking the stance and forfeiting his clone the opportunity to perform the expected left cross. As a result, the clone had suddenly lost balance-- or had seemed to, at least. In reality, it shifted its weight with its right hand and thrown itself toward the ground. As a result, a sudden kick that lacked weight and power behind it swiped across his face. Despite its usage of speed in favour of power, it still stung, and send him rolling into the ground.

A sly grin appeared on both the face of the clone and his own as he rose back up. "Not too bad, me." The spoken words were quiet, and it wasn't long before the clone was making another advance. A flurry of combinations of typical boxing variety found their way in Takao's direction. Some were blocked, some were evaded outright, and others managed to connect, yet none inflicted any lasting damage. Bare knuckle boxing was rather dangerous, after all, even if it was just with himself. Every so often, the clone would change its tactics and strike with other techniques and styles, namely powerful but slow muay thai maneuvers that Takao opted to evade entirely instead of meeting with redirection tactics. As per usual, his perception of time during combat was lacking in accuracy. It had only been fifteen minutes of constant combat, and he hadn't been feeling particularly winded or fatigued, yet the battle seemed to have been going on for much longer. A minuscule amount of strikes actually found their target, whereas the majority were nullified. A large grin was plastered on both his own and his clone's faces as their intense spar dragged on with no clear victory in sight.

Finally, an opening presented itself to Takao, and he was happy to oblige it. The clone swung high, aiming for his head, but their distance was just a bit further than expected. As a result, Takao's left leg shouldered the weight of his body as his right leg shot outward and caught the clone square in the chest. The weight of his body was behind the kick although it lacked the power of momentum, yet the clone was still sent tumbling a good few feet as a result.

- -

Chakra 346/400:

- -

[460/460] - Strength C > C-1
[480/480] - Strength C-1 > C-2
[560/560] - Strength C-2 > C-3

[1556 +6] - Total Word Count
.....62- - Remaining

The clone stumbled back up to its feet and the two locked eyes. While playing a primarily defensive role, Takao's ability to lead the fight as he saw fit was vastly inhibited, while his doppelganger's advantage kept him reacting to incoming strikes. It wasn't necessarily bad, however, since there would be a plethora of scenarios where he couldn't lead the battle with a powerful offensive and would be forced to resort to defensive tactics.
This meant that training reactionary combat tactics was likely to be just as useful and beneficial to him as it was to work on leading the fight. The clone encroached on his position again, which hadn't changed much sans for assuming the same strike receptive stance that he had held for the duration of the fight.

The advance began with a simple one two boxing combo. A right cross preceded by a left jab, both aimed for his center of mass. It did less damage than if it were to be aimed for his head, but proved to be more difficult to block. Body shots could be rather detrimental as well, enough force could crack a rib or two - and if the receiver was exceptionally unlucky, it could snap a clavicle. The pain alone was enough to end such a bout between even the more durable of foes. Takao reacted swiftly and swapped the weight from his leading foot to his rear foot. In doing so, he allowed for his midsection and torso to lean back, just out of reach of the first left jab.
A right cross followed closely behind the evaded left jab, and Takao shifted his weight again. His right foot slid forward and the mass of his body fell onto the leading limb while his left moved in the opposite direction. His midsection twisted suddenly, and his right leg swept around while he dropped into a crouch. In doing so, the cross barely grazed across his shoulders before missing entirely. The clone pulled its arm back in preparation to evade, but Takao was quicker on his feet with his advantageous position. Using his left foot as a pivot, his right leg swept around and took the clone off its feet. Takao's glove clad hands came to rest on the cold ground as balance while the clone plummeted to the ground. He finished the sweep and carried through the motion, using the momentum to swap legs and lift his left into the air. The raven-haired teen lifted his body into a hand stand and brought his left heel down in an improvised axe kick.

Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough in his maneuver. The clone rocked backward so that its weight shifted from its upper body to its legs, then kipped up and evaded the axe kick which crashed into the ground. The soil splintered and fractured from the contact of Takao's leg. In missing the attack, he had unintentionally left himself open for a counter, which he knew that the clone - a carbon copy of himself for all intents and purposes regarding the training exercise - would take full advantage of.

The left leg of his doppelganger swung around and snapped forward like a whip. Takao barely had the opportunity to bring his arms up to protect his face before the shin collided with his forearms. As a result, his endurance kicked in. Takao tumbled about a meter before immediately catching his balance and spinning back up onto his feet. The clone's advance was unrelenting in force and ferocity, for by the time he was back on his feet, Takao was already back to receiving a new flurry of blows. The combinations the clone began using were more advanced; shifting from simple one two patterns to one one two, then to one two three two, then even further to one six three two combinations before cycling back to the simplistic and dependable one twos. In doing so, Takao was kept on his proverbial toes. The clone began taking the lead of the fight and forcing his reactions, making him dodge some strikes only to be put into a position where he had to choose between defending or enduring. It was truly a battle of whits and skill; one that neither side could win. While the clone was needlessly learning and adapting to his defensive tactics, Takao was doing the same to the offensive side of the battle, and they were lead into a stalemate where no clear victor was in sight.

The sun's position in the sky had hardly moved since Takao had ventured out to the lake on the cool, early Earth Country morning. The lake provided a pleasant yet unsettling backdrop; the raven haired teen never did like large bodies of water. He hated the feeling of helplessness, and such a feeling was ever present when he couldn't move his body freely. But such was the nature of a paranoid and calculating individual, who would sooner think his vacation a hundred steps through and enjoy none of it in favour of being caught off guard.

Their battle droned on for what felt like hours, but in reality had only been about half of one. Takao remained stalwart and unbreakable in his defensive efforts despite the clone's best offensive, while the clone was ever so slowly making headway on breaking through. Sweat had begun to accumulate on both of their foreheads as their stamina began to feel the first hints of fatigue, yet they pressed on regardless. Neither of the two were showing even the slightest hints of weakness, their poker faces as perfect as ever. The clone continued to switch its tactics and attack Takao from differing angles with alternating maneuvers. It employed the styles and techniques of muay thai, savate, silate, and even semblances of karate and taekwando. In response, Takao utilized a carefully calculated mixture of wing chun, juijitsu, judo, long fist styles, and even taiji. In doing so, he was able to intercept the attacks as they were about to attack, and saved himself much damage. Minimal movements with exceptional efficiency and speed. His movements were like water; no specific style or stance, no predetermined movements depending on what his clone did. Combat was spontaneous, and a combatant could not hope to predict it-- only react.

And so the two continued their bout of fists. Try as the clone did, it proved unable to land a clean hit on Takao, whose evasiveness proved to be quite superior to his opponent's offensive advances. It was just about time for the near hour long fight to come to a close. He could spar all day, but his body needed rest to recuperate. A bit of cardiovascular exercise would succeed the lengthy sparring session, which was a fine way to send the day off.
Takao's clone prepared a simple one two combination that was aimed for his creator's head. Unfortunately for the clone, it was just about time to wrap things up for the day. Takao reached out for the first left jab and gestured it aside with the back of his forearm. His opposite hand grappled the arm, and Takao twisted his body violently. The two were sent barreling toward the ground with the clone taking the brunt of the impact. As they landed, Takao immediately placed himself on top of the clone who laid stomach side down. The raven haired teen quickly locked the clone in a Fujiwara armbar, and pulled the limb until the shoulder popped. The clone hissed in pain and Takao retreated quickly, allowing for the clone to erupt into flames as a result of sustaining sufficient damage.

- -

[560/560] - Strength C-3 > B
[560/560] - Strength B > B-1

[1271 +62] - Total Word Count
..-213--..... - Remaining

Takao watched as the flames of his destroyed clone danced through the air. The ground was dirt and soil, which didn't provide much for the precious fire to consume to continue burning. Grey hued eyes watched with a particular fondness as the light dimmed and the wispy arms of fire died away in the cold mountain air. He immediately began to miss the faint warmth that the fire brought with it, and exhaled a breath teeming with disappointment when the last wisp disappeared.

With no clone to continue his training with, Takao opted for the second part of the day's training that he had mentally agreed upon. Cardiovascular endurance and muscular endurance, both rolled into the same package. Stressing his body to the point that it began to burn the calories he had consumed for breakfast, in an effort to lower his bodily percentage of fat and thus allow him to increase his speed. The training would be beneficial in multiple different areas at varying intensities. Less fat meant less weight to carry, which increased how fast he could move. In order to attain a lesser percentage of fat, he needed to burn calories. To do so, he would be strengthening his muscles, which would increase his physical endurance in the way of stamina as well as muscular strength in his legs, augmenting the power of his kicking based attacks. A generally all-around useful training tactic that would afford him plenty of benefits for prolonged exposure. To top it all off, he intended to run the length of the lake, on the surface of the lake itself.

Without the need of a hand sign, he gathered chakra to the soles of his boots. Extending his energy through the thick leather wasn't an easy task, and it certainly wouldn't be a negligible task to maintain an acceptable amount of chakra was he ran. He was well beyond the point of such a task being impossible however, given his extensive training with chakra control. He took an uneasy step out onto the water, and then another, and then another yet after that. When he finally felt comfortable on the almost gelatinous feeling substance, he took off running. One foot after the other carried him at speeds of approximately ten meters per second, a moderate pace despite his injured leg. His laps took him around the perimeter of the lake, at somewhere around twenty to thirty meters from the shoreline. It was just enough motivation to keep his chakra from wavering and his pace consistent. His plan was to run until his legs began to fatigue and burn, then run an additional ten laps, forcing himself to push his limitations.
By the time he finished, the sun was positioned in the middle of the sky. High noon, he thought. His time wasn't too bad. It could definitely use improvements, but not terrible for somebody with his injury. It had made itself ever present after the first fifty meters of running, and the pain had persisted. He theorized that the cardiovascular endurance training that the running provided him with wasn't the only form of endurance training he was receiving. He could only imagine what his pain threshold was like now, but he didn't care much to find out either.

The pain in his leg had proved to be rather debilitating at this point, despite his apparent and self proclaimed high threshold to withstand such. He opted to an exercise that was less intensive on his lower body, specifically his right leg, which the waves of pain radiated from. The small fragments of bone were still misplaced, leaving pieces of his fibula missing and lost amidst the muscle. As a result, the limb was in near constant pain whenever pressure was put on it. It has been that way for about a year, with no foreseeable end in sight-- until now.

He didn't let his thoughts linger. To do so would sidetrack him from his training, which he was much more interested in completing in a timely manner so that he could return to the village amidst a desolate mountain range for some highly sought after rest and recuperation.

The sheer vertical face of a tall mountain separated him from the path back to the village. Atop the mountain provided a rather magnificent view of... not much. Some waterfalls, the lake, but otherwise, nothing he hadn't seen before. He mused that his time spent traveling had numbed him to the beauty of the world, which was a terrifyingly depressing thought. If not the world he lived in, the sheer beauty of life in its most primitive state itself, what could he find beautiful? The thoughts, much like his musings over his wound, were disregarded as he approached the mountain.

Scaling such a sheer surface was a non issue. For a shinobi of Takao's caliber, which wasn't saying much, it was as easy as... well, walking. Surely gravity would press down on him and make it a rather unpleasant task when done at length, but it wasn't particularly difficult either. But the easy way wasn't Takao's way. Not this time.
Gathering chakra in his hand granted him a little more grip than he was naturally capable of. When he was at his full strength he would do it without chakra, and perhaps even weighed down, but for now he did not particularly hold any interest in risking his health further.

He reached up and found a foothold, then pulled himself into a climb. He placed his grips cautiously and carefully, slowly progressing up the surface of the mountain which seemed higher and higher with each inch he climbed. It was a difficult task in the way that he had decided to go about it, slowly scaling the wall one foothold at a time, one inch after another. With grit teeth and a clenched jaw, he slowly made his way toward the top. One more inch, he told himself, every time he pulled his body up. The fatigue of his earlier run had set in and made progressing difficult, but he powered through.
His arms trembled, his core was on fire, and a heavy amount of sweat had accumulated across his brow despite the cool windy mountain air. "Come on..." He grunted, his voice escaping in a throaty and guttural tone. "Little bit more...!"

Ten minutes had passed and Takao finally managed to pull himself over the edge of the cliff and up onto the top. His legs dangled weakly off the edge as he flopped onto his back, heavy breathes making his chest rise and fall. "Phew..." The air that escaped his lungs caught a bit of a whistle, and he slowly forced himself to sit. Trembling arms, weakened by the extensive physical exertion, propped his upper body up as he glanced down at the lake he'd run laps on such a short while ago.

"Not too bad." said Takao. He would let his body rest for a while - or rather, he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Try as he might, he couldn't find it in him to move his legs after everything was over and done with.

- -

[640/640] - Strength B-1 > B-2
[720/720] - Strength B-2 > B-3

[1197 +213] - Total Word Count
..--50--.....    - Remaining

One straight hour of rest had resulted in Takao finally regaining control of his legs. Trying to stand so close to the edge of a mountain with limbs held up by muscle that felt like glorified gelatin was certainly a precarious position, but Takao had never been the sort to be afraid of heights. He groaned as his joints creaked with the sudden movement and chuckled lightly, musing that his body was akin to that of a man thirty years older than himself. But such was the nature of a shinobi, who experienced more physical trauma than any profession in the known world. His body was likely to have aged ten years in the previous two, even if the majority of the latter year had been spent without intense bodily conditioning.

With a pair of legs that wobbled and felt as though they could collapse into themselves at any moment, Takao began to the slow and grueling journey back to the village hidden in the stones. His leisurely pace afforded him the opportunity to take in the sights; though the desolate landscape didn't provide much in the way of ocular stimulation. There were... a lot of rocks. Some mountains in the background weren't so hard on the eyes, but otherwise nothing interesting. The name of the lands were immaculately descriptive of the country side. But Takao could appreciate the beauty in simplicity, even if it took a little time for him to realize it.

The more he walked, the more the residual burning in his legs subsided, and the soreness faded away. Faint waves of pain still radiated from his injury, but by now he'd gotten to the point that it was mostly negligible when all he was doing was walking. Intensive fighting, on the other hand, still seemed entirely out of the question. He could feel the weakness in the limb with each step he took, and he knew a perceptive individual would probably be able to spot it as well. If Takao were take a shot to that limb in the wrong spot, well... He imagined his entire body crumbling beneath him like a house of cards. For a person as combat oriented as Takao, such a gamble was unquestionable in its risk, and Takao didn't care much for gambling.

"If this business with the Tsuchikage doesn't work out..." He exhaled and shook his head. "I'll be able to find somebody in Konoha to do it, if it comes down to it." Loose gravel that he stepped upon crunched beneath the rubber soles of his boots. He crested over the small hillock and laid his eyes on the village of Iwagakure.
"Such a dismal place..." He quietly muttered to himself. Grey eyes lingered on the village and its features. Whatever attempts they had made to make the village seem more aesthetically appealing just weren't doing it for him. In contrast to Konohagakure, a city in its own right and a damn colourful one at that, the village hidden in the stones was a bit like a painting in monotone. Not inherently unappealing to look at, but incomparable to a vivid work of art. Perhaps he was just a tad biased toward his village of origin, the home that he has and would continue to put his life on the line for.

Before much time passed, Takao was passing beneath the gates of the village. A check in with the shinobi that were tasked to do such had brought his journey to a momentary pause, but within a few short moments he was on his way again. He took his time returning to where he would be staying for his short visit. He had very little to do in Iwagakure save for wander the streets aimlessly and train on his lonesome, neither of which could be done in the solitude of what could only be called a cell of a hotel he'd opted for.
There had been warnings given to him that some of the population might not be too keen on his presence, given his accusations that lead to the death of their apparent beloved former leader. No issues had arose thus far, yet his restless mind was nearly impossible to settle. Grey eyes shifted to and fro, watching the various people he walked past. Most paid him no mind, others spared him a brief glance by chance before averting their gaze when he stared back. Very seldom did it benefit him to have an imposing and authoritative demeanor, but it was rather rewarding when it finally did.

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[800/800] - Strength B-3 > A

[760 +50] - Total Word Count
..--10--....--- Remaining