1 The Time Has Come [Invite Only][No-Kill] Wed Nov 09, 2016 9:50 pm
Kuroyuri
D-rank
Temaki was ecstatic: Blast was officially approved. Blast, having been the runt of the litter, had had to undergo special treatment to ensure she survived - lots of time in the clinic, special diets, special instructions. It had been a long journey for both Temaki and the pup to get her to the point to where she could be a proper ninken: a proper ‘ninja pet’ as others would call her. But, it had finally happened. Through a great deal of work on Amaya’s part - who doubled as not only Kenta’s personal medic but their personal vet as well - and due diligence from Temaki who showed more responsibility when dealing with Blast than she did with anything else in life Blast finally had a completely clean bill of health. Blast’s papers were signed, and she was fully registered now as a combat pet. She was clear to go on missions or be involved in a variety of other things. But… there was something they had to do first. Training. A lot of it.
While Temaki and Blast had been glued to the hip for years at this point they had never really got a chance to train together. Blast had watched from the sidelines from time to time and had even tried to participate in the beginning, but in the end she had proved too sickly and frail and thus a stop had been put to that for Blast’s own safety. There were too many people to count who told Temaki throughout the years - thankfully none of her own family - that she should just give up on Blast and choose a different ‘pet’, but she would never have been able to bring herself to do that. The bond the pair shared, the loyalty to each other, was something that couldn’t be replaced or repeated with any other canine. Even if it meant a stunt in Temaki’s growth and development she had been willing to wait for Blast to be ready before proceeding: she wasn’t willing to leave her behind or in the dust.
The idea had crossed her mind for Temaki to wait until her father, Kenta, returned from his political visit to Iwagakure before she went ahead with training but her impatience had grown to be too much to handle. She had waited, they had waited, too long for this moment to wait any longer. Still, she had double checked with Amaya (who had wanted quite a bit of detail on exactly what they’d be doing during this training) before proceeding with a proper blessing from the medic. Amaya knew how long the pair had been waiting for this, so she had given Temaki simple instructions not to push Blast too hard too fast - which she hadn’t planned on doing anyway - and to return if anything seemed wrong with Blast before she sent her on her way.
Temaki had then gathered up the few supplies she actually bothered with before heading out the house and to the specific training area she had had in mind. This area was by no means a training field in the ‘professional’ sense of being one of the many the village provided, but rather a spot her and her family had used in the past for private training - a clearing fairly deep within the woods. The spot in particular was a good two hour hike for any civilian through very thick brush and far from any actual marked path which of course meant the chances of anyone stumbling upon someone training here who wasn’t at least a shinobi was little to none. The clearing itself was roughly two hundred and forty yards long by roughly one hundred and six yards wide and in a oval formation with trees lining it from all sides: offering up plenty room for any person or persons looking to get some training done. Off to the left side of the clearing was a fairly large pond roughly seventeen yards long by fifteen yards wide which was fed by a fairly decent sized stream that came into the clearing nearby and which exited underground, allowing it to have a constant supply of fresh water. The field itself was mostly grass, though there were a few areas of nothing but dirt where the grass had been killed off by one fire jutsu or another. There were a few boulders, worn away and smoothed out by weather and time located roughly dead center of the clearing: offering up a fairly decent vantage point of the entire field.
It was upon the highest boulder - roughly eight feet off of the ground - that Temaki currently sat in an Indian style formation: dressed in a black v-neck t-shirt with a green zip-up hoodie over top the zipper of which was currently open, a pair of black baggy shorts which went slightly past her knees, and standard open toed shinobi sandals. She was facing the pond, listening to the birds chirping nearby as well as the flow of the water, while contemplating what kind of training she wished for herself and Blast to undergo first. Blast was resting next to her, curled in a ball and looking like she was asleep save for the fact that her ears kept swiveling and shifting to track the birds as they chirped merrily while fluttering from one branch to another, as well as the various other sounds of the forest too faint for Temaki’s own senses to pick up.
As Temaki contemplated this daunting question she reached up and pulled off her village hitai-ate before attempting to pull her long golden blond hair back into a ponytail as best she could so that it was out of her face and off of her neck; securing it with a black hair tie that had previously been around her wrist in a messy bun. Not really caring if her hair looked a little messy - she never really bothered worrying all that much about her appearance - she re-tied her village hitai-ate so that the metal plate was resting at the top of her head and helping to hold back the few stray strands of hair she had missed.
Wordcount: 1,027
While Temaki and Blast had been glued to the hip for years at this point they had never really got a chance to train together. Blast had watched from the sidelines from time to time and had even tried to participate in the beginning, but in the end she had proved too sickly and frail and thus a stop had been put to that for Blast’s own safety. There were too many people to count who told Temaki throughout the years - thankfully none of her own family - that she should just give up on Blast and choose a different ‘pet’, but she would never have been able to bring herself to do that. The bond the pair shared, the loyalty to each other, was something that couldn’t be replaced or repeated with any other canine. Even if it meant a stunt in Temaki’s growth and development she had been willing to wait for Blast to be ready before proceeding: she wasn’t willing to leave her behind or in the dust.
The idea had crossed her mind for Temaki to wait until her father, Kenta, returned from his political visit to Iwagakure before she went ahead with training but her impatience had grown to be too much to handle. She had waited, they had waited, too long for this moment to wait any longer. Still, she had double checked with Amaya (who had wanted quite a bit of detail on exactly what they’d be doing during this training) before proceeding with a proper blessing from the medic. Amaya knew how long the pair had been waiting for this, so she had given Temaki simple instructions not to push Blast too hard too fast - which she hadn’t planned on doing anyway - and to return if anything seemed wrong with Blast before she sent her on her way.
Temaki had then gathered up the few supplies she actually bothered with before heading out the house and to the specific training area she had had in mind. This area was by no means a training field in the ‘professional’ sense of being one of the many the village provided, but rather a spot her and her family had used in the past for private training - a clearing fairly deep within the woods. The spot in particular was a good two hour hike for any civilian through very thick brush and far from any actual marked path which of course meant the chances of anyone stumbling upon someone training here who wasn’t at least a shinobi was little to none. The clearing itself was roughly two hundred and forty yards long by roughly one hundred and six yards wide and in a oval formation with trees lining it from all sides: offering up plenty room for any person or persons looking to get some training done. Off to the left side of the clearing was a fairly large pond roughly seventeen yards long by fifteen yards wide which was fed by a fairly decent sized stream that came into the clearing nearby and which exited underground, allowing it to have a constant supply of fresh water. The field itself was mostly grass, though there were a few areas of nothing but dirt where the grass had been killed off by one fire jutsu or another. There were a few boulders, worn away and smoothed out by weather and time located roughly dead center of the clearing: offering up a fairly decent vantage point of the entire field.
It was upon the highest boulder - roughly eight feet off of the ground - that Temaki currently sat in an Indian style formation: dressed in a black v-neck t-shirt with a green zip-up hoodie over top the zipper of which was currently open, a pair of black baggy shorts which went slightly past her knees, and standard open toed shinobi sandals. She was facing the pond, listening to the birds chirping nearby as well as the flow of the water, while contemplating what kind of training she wished for herself and Blast to undergo first. Blast was resting next to her, curled in a ball and looking like she was asleep save for the fact that her ears kept swiveling and shifting to track the birds as they chirped merrily while fluttering from one branch to another, as well as the various other sounds of the forest too faint for Temaki’s own senses to pick up.
As Temaki contemplated this daunting question she reached up and pulled off her village hitai-ate before attempting to pull her long golden blond hair back into a ponytail as best she could so that it was out of her face and off of her neck; securing it with a black hair tie that had previously been around her wrist in a messy bun. Not really caring if her hair looked a little messy - she never really bothered worrying all that much about her appearance - she re-tied her village hitai-ate so that the metal plate was resting at the top of her head and helping to hold back the few stray strands of hair she had missed.
Wordcount: 1,027