Mornings were never easy for Taiho, always a late riser in terms of when he would finally roll out of bed and do something, even if he had been awake for what felt like hours beforehand. It just never felt like he could catch a break, it wasn’t as if sleep were difficult to come by, it was just that the sleep was shit, and so was the bed he slept on.
Rolling away from the warm body that occupied the lower sheets, he’d slowly and carefully rest his rather small and well taken care of feet on the visibly dirty and hardwood floor. His back arched only slightly as he leaned forward and placed his palms on the edge to maintain some semblance of posture as he took a deep breath in. His seemingly perfect skin had seen better days, not as if he had been abused, but rather it was obvious that he was a warrior of some kind due to the various battle scars that dotted his frame. None were in obvious places that could be seen outside of his standard operational gear, but they were numerous enough to show that he wasn’t afraid to fight just about anyone or anything. His long blonde hair, a product of years of growth and maintenance, also hung off the bed slightly. It seemed to lack it’s usual sheen, though that was likely due to the lack of light in the room and the fact he hadn’t performed his usual morning routine yet.
Last night seemed to have been a blur for him yet again. Another late night of training and... extracurricular activities, another night of fitful sleep and waking up next to strangers. Sometimes men, sometimes women. Not even he knew who they were or what they wanted, but they helped forget the pain. The ache of loss that never truly left no matter how long he had been in this new land.
Heaving his body forward, he stood up and walked over to the sink to begin to prepare himself for the day. He acknowledged that dwelling on the past and present deficiencies wouldn’t get him anywhere. It wouldn’t bring back those he had lost, and it wouldn’t stop the stares. But even acknowledging this didn’t stop his rising anger, the great sense of disgust that wrapped itself around him and burrowed so deep that it would never let go. It was weird in a way. He cared not for how he was viewed physically, in fact he reveled in it. He loved the attention that both men and women gave him on a daily basis. But he disliked the utter cowardice that hid beneath that beautiful frame of his. The absolute failure that allowed his home to be destroyed, and the regret that his father had to sacrifice himself just so that he could escape. He knew his anger consumed him, he recognized that one day it would destroy him, but he just couldn’t contain it. He just felt the urge to do more and more harm every day, and nothing he did could replace it.
He would stare at himself in the mirror for a few more minute before the body on the bed shuffled about alerting him to the fact that he had just a few minutes before he had to get out of the room. The man had made it clear that he didn’t wish to wake up next to one of his kind and he damn sure didn’t want to deal with the village guards should the man make good on his promise.
Gathering his clothing together, he’d vacate the home, dressing himself as he walked. The sun had barely risen yet and so the village was still shrouded in the dusty aura of the dawn sun. He would walk across the village towards the training grounds over the course of the next hour, not really wishing to return to his own apartment. He’d greet the other early birds of the village, the passing shinobi or opening shopkeep on the way to their place of business. He knew the Fissure was always open for training, but wanted to get some solo work in first before heading there to spar with any potential candidates.
Stopping in one of the nearer training grounds since he didn’t wish to be too far away from the gym, he’d reach into his duffle bag to grab a roll of wrapping tape and placing it on the ground before sitting down and removing his clothing to prepare. Dressing down until he was dressed in a simple tank top and boxers, he’d proceed to tape up his hands and feet slowly, methodically losing himself in the motion of wrapping up each individual finger in a roll of white gauze. He’d ensure that each finger was tightly bound, no sign of skin shown as he would move onto the next, and the one that followed. It would take him nearly ten minutes to do both fingers, but by time he was done, both hands were immaculately encased in a double layer of gauze. Reaching down he’d perform the same action with his feet, taking extreme care that he not wrap the gauze too tight or too loose so that it would be the perfect fit and not discomfort him when he trained.
Standing up from his preparation he would then settle into a basic guard stance with both arms up and near his head, positioned perfectly to allow him to see through the gap between them and yet close enough that a strike would not be let through unless he otherwise willed it. Muscles tensed as he crouched slightly, left heel planted firmly in the cool morning soil as his right traced an arc through the ground before settling a half step behind his left. He’d lean forward if only slightly and would flex his fingers gently before stepping forward towards the nearby training log. His right leg would lift off the ground before stamping itself firmly in the dirt a half step ahead of his left as he struck out with his corresponding right fist, curling his fingers only in the action of the strike to reduce damage to himself and to reduce the chance of injuring himself before striking the log with an audible thump. The strike itself lacked a lot of the power he had previously, something he chalked up merely to his body being weaker than it was before he had left his homeland. Another sore point if he was really honest with himself.
Returning the leg to its starting position, he’d shuffle forward a half step, maintaining foot placement as he ducked his head behind his protective guard and bobbed his upper body about before striking out again on a side body motion that came from the far right that would send him towards his left. Leading the strike with his right hand again, it would land firmly against the log before immediately retracting as he continued the upper body motion before coming around to the total apex of his left leaning motion before performing a return strike similar to the one he had performed with his right. This time leading the strike with his left fist, the strike would once again land firmly against the log with an audible thump. The two strikes would be the key start to a devastating five strike combination that combined not only his hands but also his elbows and knees as he weaved the strikes through the imaginary guard of the training log.
The combination would only last but for four seconds, the strikes coming out with such accuracy and speed that dwelling on them would be pointless. The whole purpose of the combination was to quickly overwhelm the opponent before they could mount a proper defense in a close combat situation. He knew that versus longer ranged opponents if he could get into range to punish them physically that he wouldn’t need nearly as strong of a combination, but the fact that he could potentially end the fight with such a combination meant that perfecting it would make it a crucial tool in his arsenal.
He’d reset himself back into a ready stance, having only spent a few seconds on the maneuver before shuffling his feet about to set himself into another preparation step by swapping the positions of his left and right foot. Bouncing on the balls of his feet to limber himself up, he snap out a sudden low kick with his dominant leg before pulling the leg back just as quickly to push off it and using the ball of his left foot as a pivot to spin around to land a reverse roundhouse to the upper portions of the log with a loud crack as the blade of his foot impacted off the side of the wood. Twisting back into his ready position he’d hop back a step and settle back into his normal ready stance to assess his next movements.
He’d spend close to thirty minutes practicing further movements, working his body until a nice light sheen had gathered on his skin causing it to glisten in the rising sun. His breath would come out heavy as his hands rested on his wide hips. A satisfied smile would cross his face as he thought over the practice, at least confident that he hasn't forgotten his movements, even if his body lacked the strength to properly apply them. Gathering his things, he’d pack up the remainder of his clothing before slinging the bag over his shoulder and taking to the trees in the direction of the gym.
It would take him about twenty minutes to cross the length of the village, along the way garning the customary stares and greetings from civilians and shinobi alike that admired his rather accentuated frame as it traveled through the village. He’d stop just after entering the Fissure, admiring the work done to make the most of the location and transforming it from it from what most would have considered a scar on the earth into a well maintained training facility. A small smile would cross his face at the thought of the many warriors that had graced the area with their presence and skill, growing in power until one day they possibly no longer needed it. He could feel the desire within himself to also reach that pinnacle where such a location would no longer be fit for the practice he wished to have.
But for now he would have to settle with what he had. Slinging his pack with all of his clothes over to a distant wall, he’d walk over to a collection of equipment that could be used for multiple workouts. The area was still lit by the light of a torch since it was still very early in the morning and the bright rays of sunlight had yet to pierce to the cracks far up above. Grabbing a handful of dirt from the floor below, he’d slap the earth between his hands, feeling it crumble between his fingers as he crushed it to fine dust before hopping up and down on both feet causing his rather supple behind to jiggle if only slightly. Dropping his body into a prostrated squat, he’d swing his arms out and upwards from behind him before leaping with all of his might to catch the heavily elevated bars. The equipment was clearly made for ninja as all of it had been positioned to what many would be considered the extreme to allow for maximum workouts. Hanging shortly from the bar, he’d glance around himself and notice that it was only him for as far as his eyes could reasonably see for now but he figured that this would change as soon as others began their own morning routines.
Flexing the muscles within his arms, he’d pull himself up and over the bar, his grip maintained through sheer strength and force of will. Thankfully his ordeal hadn’t sapped all of the strength from his body, but he could tell that the way he was no was no where close to where he had been previously in his life. Anger rose back up into his body as he focused more and more on his deficiencies as he moved throughout his exercises. Each test of his body driving his ire higher and higher as a semi permanent scowl began to replace what used to be a rather peaceful smile. Finally, he snapped out of his mental evaluation as he noticed that the torches had gone out and the sun was finally filling the valley with light. More and more shinobi were filtering in and now that he could see clearer, there were a group of sparring rings placed deeper into the fissure. Spying out the location, he’d walk closer to observe some of the fights going on, interested in seeing the various fighting styles of the people who had taken him in.
Arriving by the closest ring to him, there was a rather intense brawl going on between two ninja of an unknown rank. The blows they traded were so fast that he really couldn’t tell how they were able to even react at such a speed. The way the fight flowed amazed him honestly, each strike flying out only to either be blocked or redirected away before being responded with a strike of its own. Watching the bout with intense eyes, Taiho could feel time itself slow for him as he watched the two move about, still unable to properly perceive their movements, but able to at least gleam the basic positions that they took and the intentions of each strike. Both fighters seemed to at least grasp their opponents style just enough to react appropriately and not be caught out by feints and traps. The dance was honestly so beautiful that it had washed away almost all of the insecurities that had taken root within his mind. It also fostered a ravenous desire in himself to experience something similar.
Looking away from the spar finally, he’d walk over to the next closest ring, there was already another man in the ring. He was fairly tall, standing well over Taiho’s own height from what he could see from the ground. The man’s spiky gray hair was an oddity however, something that Taiho had not seen in Iwa before meaning that the man’s hair color was likely unique to him or his... clan as they were referred to here. Nodding in understanding that the man was asking for a sparring partner, he himself would climb the ramparts and step into the ring. His slim body didn’t need much to get between the ropes and even seemed to garner him some catcalls that he ignored as he bent over to get between the ropes. He’d stop just before the taller man, his own form dripping in sweat from all the exertion he had performed over the course of the morning. It was hard to pinpoint the man’s clothing as he hadn’t gotten a good look, but he could tell that he himself were a mess with his gray tank top being absolutely soaked in sweat. His shorts had also seemed to shrink to his body with the moisture, defining his curves as well, but all of these details were ignored as he stared up into the man’s face with a look of challenge. He didn’t expect to beat the larger man, but practice was practice, and if he was going to get back into proper form, he’d need all the practice he could get.
WC: 2614