Breathe in, breathe out. Another hit. But once again not at the heart of things.
It was odd, but even if it was her own chakra, the bow felt somewhat heavy. It made her think about her early training with her boken. What had her father said?
"The first lesson is to conquer your own sword. If you can't do that, there's no point in learning kenjutsu." She had stood there for what had seemed like hours holding her boken in front of her. Standing still. Doing nothing, as she felt the wooden sword become heavier and heavier with every passing second until her muscles turned sour of pain. She had gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, somehow tried to regulate her breathing. She had to win it from her boken. Yet, several times she had failed. The boken clattered on the ground, and her father had turned his back in disapproval. Bitter tears she had cried, she had even thrown a tantrum. But today... she wielded her katana with such elegance and power that her father had decided to teach her the Arts of Execution. Mizuki eyed her bow. This was not different. Even if Zetsume wanted to teach her the art of kyujutsu, he did warn her he wasn't used to being a sensei. So she had to introduce her own lessons. Twist her father's teachings to benefit those of her new sensei. And this meant... first she'd have to fight a battle of the mind.
She adjusted her stance to what Zix-sensei had shown her and held her bow as if she was aiming. Not drawing a single arrow, she held this position for as long as she could, bow at the ready. Even if this bow was lighter due to it being pure chakra, the combination of holding the stance and maintaining the focus over her chakra made it equally difficult, if not even harder. Minutes past before she actually started to feel any strain, trained by her kenjutsu no doubt, and that was when the battle really began.
Time trickled slowly as seconds turned to minutes. As every heart beat sounded like a gong. As if every flow of her blood felt like a burning river hell-bent to break her. She could feel her muscles complain. The gaze of her father scrutinising her potential. Seven years old, she had been. An ideal age to learn the arts of the shinobi. To be trained in the traditions of the Raiu.
She felt as if it was punishment.
But it was not. To her father, it was a great honour to be taught the arts of Ranton. To be the next generation of kenjutsu masters in line. Even if it was a cruel, harsh discipline, all blood, sweat and tears would only serve to strengthen her. "Better sweat now so to avoid bleeding on the battlefield.", her father had always taught her. The harder she worked to achieve perfection, the less she would risk death on the field. A merciless training to achieve a merciful combat.
She had hated it. With a passion.
"You will not leave this dojo until you mastered the blade." And her father had meant it. Almost a full day she had been there, with nothing more than water. Not allowed to go to the toilet. No food. Only training and mastery to be achieved. She had screamed, cried, thrown a tantrum, but her father had not budged even once, his eyes fixed on her, his mind as quiet as the eye of the storm.
In the end, she had bowed to that storm and mastered her own boken.
This time, she would not bow before the storm. She would be the storm her father had aimed for her to become. She would not be defeated by her own bow. She would be master of it, like her father had wanted her to master everything she faced. She would not fail her kyujutsu sensei, but become a student worthy of praise. Feeling the bow suddenly become lighter, Mizuki knew she had won the battle of the mind with her weapon. The first path had been walked, and now the road towards mastery laid bare before her.
With renewed strength, she aimed for the dummy again and released another shot. Body and mind as one. No longer aiming for that one spot in the dummy, but for the goal behind it. The arrow hit, digging deeper than it had before and with a venomous sizzle before the arrow vanished. The burn mark was there, and ran into the wound of the dummy. Even if she hadn't hit the initial mark, she had somewhat found back her purpose and determination. A determination only broken by... the scent of grilled meat?
Her focus broken, Mizuki saw Repede whining pitifully for her attention as she picked up the scent of grilled meat. How long had she been fighting her own bow exactly? She couldn't tell. Somewhat distracted, she rubbed Repede's head and ears, which was happily received with a good sweeping of his tail, before she mentioned him she'd have to train more. With a growling mutter, Repede rested his head on his legs, not too far from her and sighed heavily as Mizuki returned to shooting target.
Shifting to a new distance once more, Mizuki shot arrow after arrow, making sure to maintain her form as instructed, and though she had yet to get accustomed to proper aiming, at least the arrows seemed to dig themselves profoundly within the targets. Deeper than before, their refuelled intent clear by the burn marks they left behind. The shots she fired became swifter and smoother as she slowly picked up the cadence of firing arrows, but her precision was still lacking. Nonetheless, by the time Zetsume returned to offer prepared food to the hungry, more than half the targets had been marked on several spots by her training.
Her eyes almost boggled out when she saw the amount of food he had prepared, wondering how much exactly the man - or Repede? - ate that he needed to prepare this much food. If anything, she wasn't the sort of person that ate a lot. Just... enough. Measured, perhaps, since eating too much only gorged the stomach and urged the body to tumble into a slumber. Still, since food had been prepared and offered, she'd consider it rude not to eat something. Picking the container and the paper plate, Mizuki filled it with fries and a small piece of hamburger, looked for vegetables she couldn't find and took a little bit of some spicy sauce so as not to offend the cook in front of her. Before actually starting her meal, she bowed and thanked Zetsume for his cooking.
Surprisingly, he asked about her. Her life, her reasons. Personal questions she wasn't really used to hear from... well, anyone, probably? Most people she spend time with knew who she was, and other than that she was usually doing the household since her sickened mother couldn't, or training to maintain her form and kata. Sure, she knew other people, but thinking about it... most of those were usually related to training as well. Like Lin-san, her squad leader and trainer who, lately had been increasingly more occupied the more the rumours about a new Raikage had risen.
She paused for a moment, dipping the fries in the spicy sauce before putting them into her mouth. Emptying her mouth before speaking, she answered his question,
"I didn't exactly choose this life. I'm born Raiu, and therefore it is my solemn duty and tradition to keep our reputation high. We've often served as the front-line in wars, and the bodyguards of various Raikage and Daimyo. Today, my father often serves as an executioner for samurai, ronin, prisoners, or those willing to pay for his services, and expects me to follow in his footsteps."Having given her answer, she listened to his explanation of his story and experience, eating the food she had been given. It was well seasoned, though somewhat odd in taste. She wasn't really used to a lump of pure meat as this, finding hers mostly prepared in various dishes at home or easily replaced with fish or chicken.
Zetsume's story was dark and saddening. To feel so forlorn despite doing his best for the Village, feeling so thankless, misunderstood. People were cruel, never really understanding what benefits they were given by those who made the sacrifices. In certain ways, the Raiu could tell plenty of those stories as they had often been the shock troops during wars, running in the front lines without so much as a thanks only to see how the clans with greater numbers claimed all honour and credit while, in fact, it had been the Raiu who sacrificed most of all.
"I'm afraid civilians can not understand the sacrifices we must make to maintain the defences of Kumogakure. When you speak of the Hydra, we should not forget that Kumogakure has suffered great losses against Kirigakure. Our Village is one of strife and turmoil, ever attracting those that seek to challenge our power and unearth our secret techniques. It may be maintained by few, but it remains recognised and respected by many even today. If anything... you are one of those few that keep up our Village's reputation, and for this I can only thank you, Zix-san."She finished the last of fries and meat before taking a sip of water herself, her mind thinking about the last sentence Zetsume had said - he hoped she'd find a different way. She had a different way, but she was unsure if it would succeed.
"I believe a diplomatic approach may bring a good wind to our Village. It would allow us to recover our forces, bolster our economy and allow us to learn from our rivals without bloodshed. I'm just not sure how successful it will be."wc 1685 + 2405
= 4090
- Chakra 120/150:
Moonlight Bow: 5/post
((Food for 10 people... Zetsume needs to learn how to count again :O ))