1 Underneath the Waterfall [Seiryū | Training | Closed] Wed Aug 19, 2015 4:40 am
Daraku
D-rank
A dreary morning on Mount Ikkyu, the sunlight hardly broke through the dense mass of clouds overhead. The mountain air was cool and fresh, but the breeze was just a tad too cold. It made the blonde hairs on Daraku's arms stand up and left goosebumps in its wake. He woke early but remained in his room for a number of hours with black hair dye, a comb, and determination. He wondered for a moment why he didn't just leave most of his hair in its natural color and have a black streak running through it instead; it would be more cost efficient since he would need much less dye. But regardless, it wouldn't look the same, and since he liked the way he had been styling it he didn't want to change it reverse the colors now. Once the sides of his head were slick with the black, tar-like dye, he washed his hands until they were spotless and watched the color bleed into the sink and down the drain. Now, it would take a while for the dye to do its work, so he went to the bed and sat down. He positioned himself comfortably but carefully so that the dye didn't stain the headboard or any of the pillows; he already paid a fortune to stay at the resort for so long, and he didn't want any additional costs for fucking shit up.
While he sat there idly waiting, he looked over to his swords which he had gotten into the habit of leaning against the far corner of the room near the window. He didn't usually walk around the resort with them, so the only time he took them out was when he ventured back to the main hub of Kumogakure no Sato to shop or hang out since the resort was in the outskirts (on a mountain, obviously) and it was a far and potentially dangerous trek. Or maybe Daraku was just paranoid and he felt strange traveling a long way without his swords. Either way, looking all three threw him into deep thought. In order from left to right against the wall were: Kage no Ken, the sword that was used to kill his mother which his father gave to him; Nisebi, the sword he had taken from his father's hidden armory in Sunagakure after killing him; and finally, Mugen Hikō, Daraku's personal favorite that he originally had forged in Iwa and eventually had upgraded by a ronin who specialized in fūinjutsu. He knew these three weapons perfectly, down to every last detail about their weight, length, and specialized capabilities during battle.
There was another important component to any good weapon-user, and that was personal skill level and expertise. Daraku had been using swords to kill his adversaries for a majority of his life. It was part of his training as an assassin...while the Ishido clansmen of his grandmother's branch were experts of fūinjutsu, ninjutsu, and chakra control, his father had put him down the path of murder, stealth, and close combat. His training was rigorous but it paid off immensely in the long run; bukijutsu was his strong point and it got him to where he was today, as one of the strongest ninja of Sunagakure no Sato. He wasn't satisfied though, and with that he decided that today he would go back to bukijutsu training. It had been quite a while since he had focused on improving his swordplay, maybe two years total? Aside from his Senjutsu training, most of his routine consisted of practicing jutsu and basic exercise for physical fitness. He got off the bed and walked over to the weapons, picking up Hikō and bringing it with him back to the bathroom. He would have considered bringing more than one sword, but it was often too heavy and it slowed him down in fights, especially since that required he strap them to his waist. It would be the same case in any sort of intensive training, so one sword would have to do, and Hikō was his personal favorite.
The Sannin set the blade down on the bathroom counter and washed the dye out of his hair. When he pulled his head out from underneath the faucet and looked in the mirror, he was impressed with the job he had done. The colors were separated clearly and the once-faded sides were now pitch black again, like they had been when he dyed them last. Good, glad that's finally over with. I've been meaning to touch it up for weeks... Appearance was something that was vastly important to Daraku and keeping his hair color maintained was directly related to that, but he was so absentminded sometimes that he would forget to do it, up until the point where his blond roots were showing clearly and the whole look of things was ruined. Now, it was fixed, and the dye would last him another month or two. He put on some pants, his mesh shirt with a black silk shirt over it, and sandals. In the bedroom he gathered his wallet and his room key and gathered them in his pockets, then he strapped his Sunagakure hitai-ate around his neck.
The walk to the large waterfall was unpleasant and far, but Daraku managed to get there in an ample amount of time. The cold morning air still bothered him, but he figured it would end once the sun was high enough in the sky and the clouds started to fade a a bit. Water crashing was a harsh noise, and yet it was oddly pleasing to his ears, continuing consistently in the background. He walked along the base of the water until he found a clearing just under the path of falling water, where he would have peace and solitude away from the various tourists and other resort visitors. He unsheathed Hikō and set the scabbard down on the stone ground beneath him. The blade pointed ahead, angled slightly upward due to the curve that started at its base. A common design for an uchigatana, when paired with the length of such a weapon made for long, sweeping strikes and a surprisingly good reach. That part of why Hikō worked well with Fūton and why Daraku preferred to use it more than Nisebi or Kage no Ken. He took a deep breath and concentrated on his form while he practiced his weapon swings.
While he sat there idly waiting, he looked over to his swords which he had gotten into the habit of leaning against the far corner of the room near the window. He didn't usually walk around the resort with them, so the only time he took them out was when he ventured back to the main hub of Kumogakure no Sato to shop or hang out since the resort was in the outskirts (on a mountain, obviously) and it was a far and potentially dangerous trek. Or maybe Daraku was just paranoid and he felt strange traveling a long way without his swords. Either way, looking all three threw him into deep thought. In order from left to right against the wall were: Kage no Ken, the sword that was used to kill his mother which his father gave to him; Nisebi, the sword he had taken from his father's hidden armory in Sunagakure after killing him; and finally, Mugen Hikō, Daraku's personal favorite that he originally had forged in Iwa and eventually had upgraded by a ronin who specialized in fūinjutsu. He knew these three weapons perfectly, down to every last detail about their weight, length, and specialized capabilities during battle.
There was another important component to any good weapon-user, and that was personal skill level and expertise. Daraku had been using swords to kill his adversaries for a majority of his life. It was part of his training as an assassin...while the Ishido clansmen of his grandmother's branch were experts of fūinjutsu, ninjutsu, and chakra control, his father had put him down the path of murder, stealth, and close combat. His training was rigorous but it paid off immensely in the long run; bukijutsu was his strong point and it got him to where he was today, as one of the strongest ninja of Sunagakure no Sato. He wasn't satisfied though, and with that he decided that today he would go back to bukijutsu training. It had been quite a while since he had focused on improving his swordplay, maybe two years total? Aside from his Senjutsu training, most of his routine consisted of practicing jutsu and basic exercise for physical fitness. He got off the bed and walked over to the weapons, picking up Hikō and bringing it with him back to the bathroom. He would have considered bringing more than one sword, but it was often too heavy and it slowed him down in fights, especially since that required he strap them to his waist. It would be the same case in any sort of intensive training, so one sword would have to do, and Hikō was his personal favorite.
The Sannin set the blade down on the bathroom counter and washed the dye out of his hair. When he pulled his head out from underneath the faucet and looked in the mirror, he was impressed with the job he had done. The colors were separated clearly and the once-faded sides were now pitch black again, like they had been when he dyed them last. Good, glad that's finally over with. I've been meaning to touch it up for weeks... Appearance was something that was vastly important to Daraku and keeping his hair color maintained was directly related to that, but he was so absentminded sometimes that he would forget to do it, up until the point where his blond roots were showing clearly and the whole look of things was ruined. Now, it was fixed, and the dye would last him another month or two. He put on some pants, his mesh shirt with a black silk shirt over it, and sandals. In the bedroom he gathered his wallet and his room key and gathered them in his pockets, then he strapped his Sunagakure hitai-ate around his neck.
The walk to the large waterfall was unpleasant and far, but Daraku managed to get there in an ample amount of time. The cold morning air still bothered him, but he figured it would end once the sun was high enough in the sky and the clouds started to fade a a bit. Water crashing was a harsh noise, and yet it was oddly pleasing to his ears, continuing consistently in the background. He walked along the base of the water until he found a clearing just under the path of falling water, where he would have peace and solitude away from the various tourists and other resort visitors. He unsheathed Hikō and set the scabbard down on the stone ground beneath him. The blade pointed ahead, angled slightly upward due to the curve that started at its base. A common design for an uchigatana, when paired with the length of such a weapon made for long, sweeping strikes and a surprisingly good reach. That part of why Hikō worked well with Fūton and why Daraku preferred to use it more than Nisebi or Kage no Ken. He took a deep breath and concentrated on his form while he practiced his weapon swings.
- Training:
- Training Bukijutsu S-Rank to SS-Rank
Word Count: 1,093/9,000
Last edited by Daraku on Wed Sep 16, 2015 2:10 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : closed thread.)