Home
1
Weaponry Specialist (Learning Onojutsu/ Private) Mon Apr 27, 2015 9:55 am
Jurou
S-rank
There were not many things that the mysterious individual had learned about his weaponry abilities. Not as if he cared or anything. Of course it was this way because of the way he came to be; ruthlessly during his old days of now.
Born in a small town to where his father and mother had stayed much clsoe to his father's clan's homeland Kirigakure, weaponry was something that the shinobi had inherited from his father at a young age, but only particularly one style: Kenjutsu. He was not bitter at this however he did perceive himself a bit more interestingly as he figured some things out along the way. When he was merely a Chuunin he learned the way of Kenjutsu entirely from his father and a little bit of an unorthodox style called Onojutsu, from the hidden compartment that his mother had given him in a secret box meant only to be opened at the right time. He learned all he could and more, but each time he opened the box it seemed as though more techniques filled it and he had to learn the techniques again and again until he had them right. Of course it was a hard task yet he was managing. So far there had not come any hard techniques for him to use; by hard of course he meant morally wrong or unusable to him because of his stance about killing people and battling others. Although he was not fond of such things he knew if the time came he would have to learn it. It seemed that time would come sooner than later.
Things had gotten a bit more hectic after he became a Special Jōnin of Kirigakure. He had more work more missions and more things to do than he ever had to do as a Chuunin, it mostly involved paperwork but it also involved tough missions that not many people could do. Recently he had been given such a mission to infiltrate a facility and kill a certain individual. Usually he had to be assured that this person was hurting Kirigakure and there was no other way around it however it was different this time. He knew the man in the picture it was the same person he failed to kill when he was a Chuunin and it came back to haunt him. Figuratively and literally speaking it would try him at it's best. Though he had little time and leaving for the mission is what he intended to do. Barely reading the scroll for his next weapon, an extremely hard one at that was called a bladed axe, unfamiliar in appearance that had looked like a saber or something. A deadly weapon requiring perfection and skill beyond limits of Chuunin. The mission was simple, travel to the outskirts of Kirigakure, raid the location of a certain compound(information was received from an earlier mission by Kirigakure) and make it in time for the world to not notice that they had eliminated a huge threat to the national interests of Kirigakure. A thing that he could do, perhaps soon.
Of course he had still remembered that mission, but most importantly the scroll that he had kept with him at all times. Seeing as though it was still night time, he had no time to lose. Waking up in yet another abandoned building (to which he had gotten used too ever so quickly), he could feel the heavy weight of his eyes as he tried to move them, blink them in a rapid pace to wake himself up from this slumber he hasn't had in such a long period of time. It had been a long time since he had full sleep, with being on the run and everything. Bingo books stating his name was everywhere, but each village other than Kiri on his head was of a mere low price. Which was good enough for him to lay low for now. Two mattresses was enough to suit his needs of a bed as he yawned a silent yawn when the shinobi had woke up, rubbing his index finger around the slit closed gash on his chin as to what Gin had given him years before this. A smirk came across his face as he remembered that glorious tie of a battle. Such a forest reduced to ashes because of those two in their prime. Now in the olds, what was he now? Was he still an elite or a weakling? Was he still as strong as he was before? Such questions had lingered in his head for long periods of time with little to no answers. As the sun had finally risen from the depths of the Underworld, the shinobi had stretched for awhile before getting up, rubbing his eye with his right hand because of irritation. Making his way to the bathroom, his exotic eyes of black sclera and red pupils had darted from his direction and around the hallway of the abandoned room, to which they had come back to him walking to the bathroom.
Hearing and seeing the water run was glorious to him, as he had hoped and prayed that this abandoned still had at least water in the house. He wasn't paying for the bill. A nightly stay this was for him at the moment. He then averted back to washing his face with his bare hands and would look at himself in the mirror and just stare at him for a short period of time before leaving the bathroom. His quirk was looking around more, seeing as though when he was younger, that was not his original thing. Now, it was forced upon him because of his rank and bounty. A sigh had escaped his mouth as he had put on his original clothes in the manner: A simple, white-colored, muscle T shirt with short sleeves, covered by a black, leather combat vest that had reached to his abdomen, a black cloak of his that was wrapped around his neck, covering such an area with a hood attached, hiding his face from the world that comes with a tail on the front, trailing down to the individual's chest. His bottoms were of simple ninja trousers, having a dark grey in color, and japanese ninja tabi that were black in color. A simple all black attire to him with just a white shirt would suit him right. He had let his long, vibrant, white hair trail his cloak's tail, only stopped 2 feet short of the tail's length.
Was he forgetting something? Ah, his inventory. The shinobi's inventory was of three swords in all: two rapiers and one katana. He had searched his floor of the weapons, only to see them still in the room where he had took his nap in. Lying on the ground near the window were his swords still in their sheath. That was good. He had placed his two rapier sheath on his lower back, with one on top of the other. His Rapier's names were Kano and Bento, one superior then the other in terms of craftsmanship and cutting precision and power, and both favored speed over anything. Now, the katana of his was something that had remained by his side for such a long time. The Katana's name was none other than Naiya, a katana made of diamond alloy, a special gift given to him by Gin in regards to a trade between Soul Cutter and Naiya. Now that he had thought about it, giving away Soul Cutter was a bad idea. The other swords... not so much. Anyway, he had placed Naiya's sheath on his right hip as it dangled a bit. He had no other inventory with his as his place was clean. It was now time for him to leave this place, and hopefully never come back to it again.
Thinking back to his younger days, he had thought of the scroll that his mother had given to him in regards to that new style of weaponry that he wanted to try out. It was none other then Onojutsu it was called? He reached deep into his pocket on his ninja trousers and found the necessary scroll and opened it. He had began reading what Onōjutsu was and the necessary weapons for it. Onōjutsu was nothing more then a style filled with weapons that were unorthodox to the ninja, but could better suit anybody who is a master at a particular style already. Being that Kenjutsu was his specialty, Onōjutsu would be a sure win for him. He trailed the kanji text of the scroll and found the content to where he needed to be, the different weapons that had come with the style. The weapons mentioned with this style were not suited with his liking, but if he wanted to get stronger, there would have to be certain sacrifices that were to be made for such to happen. He did not complain or whatnot, just had a hard time developing like he did before.
~Most of these weapons are just not suitable in a way...~ His words in his thoughts exactly. Well, maybe he was complaining a bit for his taste.
He had walked to the wilderness of Konohagakure, finding himself to be located at a beautiful place called the Naka River. There was no time for such sight seeing as he needed to get this specialization out the way. He had bought a bladed axe from a local weaponsmith that was selling it for cheap. It was not the best, but it will do for now. He began by holding the axe in his left hand, feeling the weight of the hilt on his non-dominant hand. It had a funny feeling to it, seeing as though his left hand was mostly of rapiers and what not from his arsenal. He had begin swinging the axe as well, switching from his normal hand grip to a reverse hand grip as well, testing the weight and force of the blunt weapon in a way. It was much heavier then a katana, or something that he was used to. But sometimes it was better to confuse the opponent. For hours and hours of content, he had swing the axe in multiple ways, multiple directions, switching from the two hand grips while swinging in a certain direction. The sun had set and it was now, and still the process of being comfortable with a different weapon was painful to him. For some reason, he had a feeling that his left hand and arm altogether was getting somewhat stronger from the training with a heavier weapon. A little but needed improvement in his mind. He had walked back to Konohagakure after the long hours of training and sold the axe back to the weaponsmith and went his way to the old abandoned place again.
It was good training with a different weapon. The many arsenals and combinations that he could muster up and make with his weaponry was beyond questioning, maybe even comprehension. Whatever the case was, he felt himself growing stronger by the minute, but he was still far too weak to even be considered a S-rank Missing Ninja.
~Just a few more steps towards perfection, Jurou...~ He thought to himself once more.
W O R D C O U N T: 1910/1500
Learning Sub-Specialization ~> Bukijutsu ~~> Onōjutsu Complete.
Born in a small town to where his father and mother had stayed much clsoe to his father's clan's homeland Kirigakure, weaponry was something that the shinobi had inherited from his father at a young age, but only particularly one style: Kenjutsu. He was not bitter at this however he did perceive himself a bit more interestingly as he figured some things out along the way. When he was merely a Chuunin he learned the way of Kenjutsu entirely from his father and a little bit of an unorthodox style called Onojutsu, from the hidden compartment that his mother had given him in a secret box meant only to be opened at the right time. He learned all he could and more, but each time he opened the box it seemed as though more techniques filled it and he had to learn the techniques again and again until he had them right. Of course it was a hard task yet he was managing. So far there had not come any hard techniques for him to use; by hard of course he meant morally wrong or unusable to him because of his stance about killing people and battling others. Although he was not fond of such things he knew if the time came he would have to learn it. It seemed that time would come sooner than later.
Things had gotten a bit more hectic after he became a Special Jōnin of Kirigakure. He had more work more missions and more things to do than he ever had to do as a Chuunin, it mostly involved paperwork but it also involved tough missions that not many people could do. Recently he had been given such a mission to infiltrate a facility and kill a certain individual. Usually he had to be assured that this person was hurting Kirigakure and there was no other way around it however it was different this time. He knew the man in the picture it was the same person he failed to kill when he was a Chuunin and it came back to haunt him. Figuratively and literally speaking it would try him at it's best. Though he had little time and leaving for the mission is what he intended to do. Barely reading the scroll for his next weapon, an extremely hard one at that was called a bladed axe, unfamiliar in appearance that had looked like a saber or something. A deadly weapon requiring perfection and skill beyond limits of Chuunin. The mission was simple, travel to the outskirts of Kirigakure, raid the location of a certain compound(information was received from an earlier mission by Kirigakure) and make it in time for the world to not notice that they had eliminated a huge threat to the national interests of Kirigakure. A thing that he could do, perhaps soon.
Of course he had still remembered that mission, but most importantly the scroll that he had kept with him at all times. Seeing as though it was still night time, he had no time to lose. Waking up in yet another abandoned building (to which he had gotten used too ever so quickly), he could feel the heavy weight of his eyes as he tried to move them, blink them in a rapid pace to wake himself up from this slumber he hasn't had in such a long period of time. It had been a long time since he had full sleep, with being on the run and everything. Bingo books stating his name was everywhere, but each village other than Kiri on his head was of a mere low price. Which was good enough for him to lay low for now. Two mattresses was enough to suit his needs of a bed as he yawned a silent yawn when the shinobi had woke up, rubbing his index finger around the slit closed gash on his chin as to what Gin had given him years before this. A smirk came across his face as he remembered that glorious tie of a battle. Such a forest reduced to ashes because of those two in their prime. Now in the olds, what was he now? Was he still an elite or a weakling? Was he still as strong as he was before? Such questions had lingered in his head for long periods of time with little to no answers. As the sun had finally risen from the depths of the Underworld, the shinobi had stretched for awhile before getting up, rubbing his eye with his right hand because of irritation. Making his way to the bathroom, his exotic eyes of black sclera and red pupils had darted from his direction and around the hallway of the abandoned room, to which they had come back to him walking to the bathroom.
Hearing and seeing the water run was glorious to him, as he had hoped and prayed that this abandoned still had at least water in the house. He wasn't paying for the bill. A nightly stay this was for him at the moment. He then averted back to washing his face with his bare hands and would look at himself in the mirror and just stare at him for a short period of time before leaving the bathroom. His quirk was looking around more, seeing as though when he was younger, that was not his original thing. Now, it was forced upon him because of his rank and bounty. A sigh had escaped his mouth as he had put on his original clothes in the manner: A simple, white-colored, muscle T shirt with short sleeves, covered by a black, leather combat vest that had reached to his abdomen, a black cloak of his that was wrapped around his neck, covering such an area with a hood attached, hiding his face from the world that comes with a tail on the front, trailing down to the individual's chest. His bottoms were of simple ninja trousers, having a dark grey in color, and japanese ninja tabi that were black in color. A simple all black attire to him with just a white shirt would suit him right. He had let his long, vibrant, white hair trail his cloak's tail, only stopped 2 feet short of the tail's length.
Was he forgetting something? Ah, his inventory. The shinobi's inventory was of three swords in all: two rapiers and one katana. He had searched his floor of the weapons, only to see them still in the room where he had took his nap in. Lying on the ground near the window were his swords still in their sheath. That was good. He had placed his two rapier sheath on his lower back, with one on top of the other. His Rapier's names were Kano and Bento, one superior then the other in terms of craftsmanship and cutting precision and power, and both favored speed over anything. Now, the katana of his was something that had remained by his side for such a long time. The Katana's name was none other than Naiya, a katana made of diamond alloy, a special gift given to him by Gin in regards to a trade between Soul Cutter and Naiya. Now that he had thought about it, giving away Soul Cutter was a bad idea. The other swords... not so much. Anyway, he had placed Naiya's sheath on his right hip as it dangled a bit. He had no other inventory with his as his place was clean. It was now time for him to leave this place, and hopefully never come back to it again.
Thinking back to his younger days, he had thought of the scroll that his mother had given to him in regards to that new style of weaponry that he wanted to try out. It was none other then Onojutsu it was called? He reached deep into his pocket on his ninja trousers and found the necessary scroll and opened it. He had began reading what Onōjutsu was and the necessary weapons for it. Onōjutsu was nothing more then a style filled with weapons that were unorthodox to the ninja, but could better suit anybody who is a master at a particular style already. Being that Kenjutsu was his specialty, Onōjutsu would be a sure win for him. He trailed the kanji text of the scroll and found the content to where he needed to be, the different weapons that had come with the style. The weapons mentioned with this style were not suited with his liking, but if he wanted to get stronger, there would have to be certain sacrifices that were to be made for such to happen. He did not complain or whatnot, just had a hard time developing like he did before.
~Most of these weapons are just not suitable in a way...~ His words in his thoughts exactly. Well, maybe he was complaining a bit for his taste.
He had walked to the wilderness of Konohagakure, finding himself to be located at a beautiful place called the Naka River. There was no time for such sight seeing as he needed to get this specialization out the way. He had bought a bladed axe from a local weaponsmith that was selling it for cheap. It was not the best, but it will do for now. He began by holding the axe in his left hand, feeling the weight of the hilt on his non-dominant hand. It had a funny feeling to it, seeing as though his left hand was mostly of rapiers and what not from his arsenal. He had begin swinging the axe as well, switching from his normal hand grip to a reverse hand grip as well, testing the weight and force of the blunt weapon in a way. It was much heavier then a katana, or something that he was used to. But sometimes it was better to confuse the opponent. For hours and hours of content, he had swing the axe in multiple ways, multiple directions, switching from the two hand grips while swinging in a certain direction. The sun had set and it was now, and still the process of being comfortable with a different weapon was painful to him. For some reason, he had a feeling that his left hand and arm altogether was getting somewhat stronger from the training with a heavier weapon. A little but needed improvement in his mind. He had walked back to Konohagakure after the long hours of training and sold the axe back to the weaponsmith and went his way to the old abandoned place again.
It was good training with a different weapon. The many arsenals and combinations that he could muster up and make with his weaponry was beyond questioning, maybe even comprehension. Whatever the case was, he felt himself growing stronger by the minute, but he was still far too weak to even be considered a S-rank Missing Ninja.
~Just a few more steps towards perfection, Jurou...~ He thought to himself once more.
W O R D C O U N T: 1910/1500
Learning Sub-Specialization ~> Bukijutsu ~~> Onōjutsu Complete.
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 