It was an impeccable morning for a stroll in Senju park, the largest woodland area within the village. The sun beat down with an uncanny warmth that managed to accentuate the orange and yellow hues within the leaves, creating a kaleidescope of colors which mixed and mingled upon the many paths and trails of the forest floor. There was a crisp feel to the air here. It was warm, it was peaceful, it was something close to what one would have expected the world to be like before the rise of mankind. It was all these characteristics and more which had drawn him here, the modest Genin currently strolling along the main path of the park, carrying an easel along with a small kit of painting supplies. The clinking sounds within his bag indicated the numerous colors and shades he had with him, even as the rough hewn bag indicated his poor upbringing. The blank expression, a look of contentment, was enough to show that he was at peace with himself. Perhaps it was the effect of the forest, he couldn't quite say for sure.

Down, down, along the winding path he went, watching the other park-goers as they enjoyed the final warm touches of fall before the grip of winter. The look of contentment on the young man's face fell somewhat as he saw the families eating their picnics along a clear-blue stream. The sight didn't make him bitter per se, it just... didn't quite meet what he was looking for. Instead, the simple Genin continued to walk along, head in the clouds, much like his element. Time seemed to drift away from him as he hummed his little tune and walked his little walk, at last stopping to look at a small trail that led off the main path down to where he knew the stream to be. Curious, he crossed the threshold and disappeared into the green thicket.

The sounds of the other park goers grew quieter and more distant, the only real sounds registering in his mind were his feet treading upon the gravel and the sound of his paint cans clinking together. When he emerged from the small forest trail, he felt a small smile at last break the unfeeling mold that his face had grown accustomed to. He stood at a small grassy bank on the edge of the stream, an old pine snaking up and over the water from the opposite bank to form a long horizontal branch which had likely been growing for hundreds of years. He liked this place, he liked the sounds that the water made and the sweet notes the air blew when it whispered through the leaves above him. He set down his painter's stool and put his easel in front of him, unfurling the large blank piece of canvas and placing it on its perch.

The boy let out a long sigh as he slumped into his seat, hands assuming their normal positions for painting. His left hand held the painting tray which he now filled with the differing colors he had brought with him, whilst the other held onto the brush he had. With both of these out of the way, he felt he could truly begin to relax. He felt as though he had been constantly moving since his graduation from the Ninja Academy, and now that he was a fully fledged Genin, spending some time to paint and simply reflect would help him decide what next to do. Painting always helped him think.

So, with a half-closed yet acute gleam to his eyes, he began to take in the scene in front of him, slowly attempting to transcribe it onto his canvas...

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He dipped the tip of his brush into the small cup of water placed at his feet, doing so would help him capture some of the lighter colors of the changing seasons. The slow and steady stroke upon the canvas was strangely tranquil, putting him in a trance of sorts. The gentle lapping of the water from the stream nearby felt like it was covering his mind in a cool coating of water. He could hear the leaves rustling with in the breeze behind him, a cluster of red and yellow falling slowly to the ground as the seasons continued their eternal march. Their colors were caught somewhat in the large oak tree he was beginning to craft as the centerpiece of the painting, it's large aged trunk hanging over the water.

It was slowly starting to come together, bit by bit. With each arc of his brush upon the canvas, he could see the vestiges of what could be. The sensation reminded him a tad of those early senses of wonder when discovering his love of ninjutsu, in a way they were much the same. With each small movement of chakra or hand sign, the control over the elements could take shape, much as a painting could begin to form with only the simplest strokes of a brush. There may be only the first steps completed, but the final result could be imagined in one's mind, with that space in-between being the true challenge.

The boy hummed to himself before seeing something dash about in his peripheral vision. Pausing, he turned his head only to have it come face to face with a very curious and very personable dog. The sight startled Yoshihiro, who stumbled back off of his stool, back onto the grass. Sitting up just as quick, he looked at the creature with a curious gleam to his gaze. What was this creature doing here? The voice that followed the pet provided the answer. He could tell it was an older man by the tone of his voice. The Genin looked up from the dog to the approaching figure, eyes growing wide as saucers as he instantly recognized the stranger.

"Y-you're Takao Kimura!" the boy stammered out. Was this real? He had heard of the famed shinobi even before he had joined the Ninja Academy as an orphan. The placid demeanor that he was so often known for began to crumble apart, like a mask that now showed glimpses of the boyhood he had never been able to enjoy. Yoshihiro's felt his mouth going slack, his lips making a small 'O' shape as they watched the older man look at his painting. God, he was looking at his painting of all things! It must have been terrible! Furthermore, he was just sitting there on the ground looking like a dummy!

The boy scrambled up to his feet, dusting himself off as he looked to the man and his unassuming pet dog. "It's an honor to meet you, sir" he greeted, giving a small 45 degree angle bow before looking to meet the man's gaze with what restraint he could muster. A million questions were flooding his mind without any filter whatsoever, he had to stay cool! What would a cool person do? What would Takao say to Takao? "I'm Yoshihiro, Yoshihiro Joe" he greeted with a nervous smile. He walked over to the painting and looked at it, still unfinished. That realization brought a sudden idea to his mind as he looked up to his mancrush idol. "Would you... mind if I put you into my painting?" he asked somewhat sheepishly, looking over to the large oak tree with that branch that draped out over the lake. If Takao sat on it the light would hit him just right and, oh, oh yes, he could see it already in his mind.

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The Genin made a small clicking sound with his tongue, tilting his head sideways as he looked between the canvas and the dynamic duo sitting on the oak log. He could feel the pressure mounting within the back of his head. What if he messed up? What if Takao just picked it up and threw it into the stream and used fire jutsu to set the water on fire? Okay, maybe that second thing wouldn't happen, but the pressure was still there! Yoshihiro took a deep breath in and held it as he picked out a few shades to start making an outline of Takao and Karou. He just. Had to be. As still as possible.

"I don't want to keep you here all day. All I need is just a foundation for your bodies and I can fill in the rest with color. I think I should be okay" he said, looking up from the canvas to to duo sitting on the log giving their best 'graduation photo' faces. Another few strokes of the brush and he had the log drawn as well as Takao's legs. It was a bit slowgoing, but it wouldn't take too long thankfully. In the meantime, the Genin just couldn't resist keeping to himself, sheepishly poking his head around the canvas to look more directly at his childhood idol.

"So... is it true that you pee fire? Does it hurt?" he asked, curiosity dripping from his voice. Such a question, while juvenile, was always the talk of heated discussion during make-believe sessions with the other boys of the orphanage. He had to get some kind of filter going or else he was gonna look lame! Yoshihiro tried to mentally recover from his sudden question, hoping to not-so-subtley change the subject. "Do you... ever think about what it was like before you became Hokage? When you were a Genin?" he asked, his hand twitching a tad as he worked on outlining Takao's upper body. "What would you tell yourself if you could go back in time to when you first graduated from the Academy?" he asked, anticipation raised as his self-insert was in all but name. "Do you ever get scared? You know, when you're out there doing your thing" he continued, the questions coming a bit more freely than maybe he should have let them come.

He bit his tongue then, not wanting to overwhelm the man as he sat there with his dog, very kindly agreeing to let Yoshihiro transcribe his appearance onto the canvas. He tried to focus on the painting, trying to focus on how the colors of the leaves would affect the appearance of the man and his dog. He was still not used to painting animals, so the befuddled appearance of Karou made it a tad challenging the first time around. "I know I feel afraid often. Is that bad? Do you need to not be afraid to be a strong shinobi?" he asked, trying to look at the painting instead of the man- yet acutely aware of any responses he might afford to give him.

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The responses he got from the older man weren't... quite what he had been expecting. Yoshihiro figeted a tad on his stool as he heard Takao take his time in answering the scattered questions that the Geninn had lobbed at him freely. The laughter that had first greeted him caused the teen to sigh a bit, maybe asking him something so deep wasn't the best way to approach this. Still, knowing if the man could piss fire seemed like the question any boy growing up would want to know more about, he was content with the answer he eventually got.

The black haired youth poked his head form behind the canvas as Takao went on to explain the extent of his clan's ability to negate fire. The sight was still somewhat surreal to the boy, whose eyes went wide with shock and awe, "How old were you when you first did that?". His mouth formed an 'o' shape at the small display that the man maintained, only to let his face slip into a somewhat more placid look as he sat up straight on his stool, face concealed by the canvas once again. Painting fire was a lil too difficult for him as an amateur, so he'd probably just skip that part, plus it would throw off the color balance that he was striking with this piece. He had gotten up to the man's waistline and was slowly filling in an outline of his upper body. Going on to pain his arms would be the tricky part, especially with Karou- arms were always easy for him to get the wrong dimensions with. Still, the piece was coming together rather nicely. Truth be told, the whole thing felt like it was slipping into this sense of liquid time, with just the three of them next to the stream existing in a pocket of space and time separate from the outside world. It was fun, he enjoyed it.

It seemed that asking Takao to recall his early days was something that had caused him to reflect and think for a moment. Yoshihiro couldn't blame him, a man like him who had done so much as well as become Hokage certainly had many worn out paths they had tread upon in their life! To think that the older man was still relatively young though... It made Yoshihiro wonder what would await him given time and the inevitable rise of new conflicts. Thusly, when Takao spoke a bit on his early days as a Genin, it was strangely reassuring to Yoshihiro as he sat there painting the older man's form. It was natural to feel uncertain, to feel afraid- indeed, to hear that a man as powerful as Takao knew and understood the same fears that Yoshihiro had was a strangely encouraging feeling. It reminded him that no matter their difference in power, both of them feared the same things, and yearned for peace above all else. He couldn't explain the sensation, it made him feel more human almost, it brought a melancholy smile to his face as he kept painting.

"You have someone who you want to protect? Someone to fight to come home to at the end of the battle?" the teen asked, the concept felt foreign to him. He had always prided himself on being a self-made man. He was a clanless orphan, everything that he was, he had built with his two hands alone. Always alone. "I... I think I understand what you mean. If you did not have this person in your life, would you feel as though you could not find a reason to keep fighting?" he asked, diving a bit deeper on the subject. To have a reason to subject themselves to unthinkable violence and destruction, it took a steeled resolve, the kind of which that Yoshihiro couldn't fathom. He loved his village, his Konohagakure, it was his home, but even he could not compare to understand the strength and resolve a powerful man like Takao needed to be able to continue the fight.

Yoshihiro didn't realize he had stopped painting. The tumult of thoughts and questions in his mind distracting his hands from their work. He dipped his brush in the water again, cleansing it for a new color to be used. He'd try and finish the man's outline so he could work on the dog. Perhaps he was going to deep with these questions. Takao was a man whom Yoshihiro knew and had always looked up to, but he was still a stranger. He needed a more light question to uplift their mood... "So how do you talk to girls? How do I do it?" he asked abruptly. Hey, it was the first thing that had come to his mind, even if the realization of his subliminal thoughts bubbling up tot he surface brought a sudden crimson sheen to his cheeks. Ever since he had met that Hyuga girl on his last mission he had... been having those thoughts that every teen had to try and figure out at some point.

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The teen slowly made small strokes as he began to color in Takao's hair, the flecks of black atop his head turning shades of brown due to the lighting of the scene. So far, Yoshihiro was somewhat proud about how this picture was coming out. Feeling oh so pleased with himself, the teen began to hum a tad as the older man started to let the Genin's words seep into him somewhat. They were rather personal questions, but for the Genin, those were the only ones that mattered really. The somewhat surprised reaction that the man gave was proof enough that the memory was a distant one, for as many born into clans of power, they began their relationship with their abilities at a young age. In that respect, Yoshihiro felt somewhat resentful, for he had no clan save for himself, the 'Joe' clan as he called it, always looking towards that new tommorow just around the corner and what it may bring.

Thusly, when Takao began to speak about his youth and his memories of learning to master Katon, Yoshihiro only gave a few hums of acknowledgement and approval. He had never been proficient in Katon, its combustive nature always felt to wild and difficult for him to control. Futon had always been his calling, for better and for worse, with his skill in Raiton being his next strongest trump card. Still, the young age at which the man had entered into the flame surprised the Genin. "That is very young, were you not afraid as a boy that the flames would harm you? Or did they feel like a part of you, even then in your infancy?" he asked, curious to understand the man's workings on a deeper level.

This question was rather brief though, as the next one seemed to draw the man's attention to more warm and comforting places. The wistful smile upon his face, the relaxed look of his brow, the leisurely gleam in his eyes- they all seemed the symptoms of love... Or mental deficiency, frankly they both seemed awfully similar to the cynical Genin. Yoshihiro snorted as he heard the man's response, it was a truthful one, even he could tell that much. Takao was a man of principle, at least, that was the sense that he conveyed to the youth who now sat across from him, painting his visage upon the canvas. Yet, it seemed to be those same principles that caused the man some sort of apprehension, as the wariness in his voice regarding a worst case scenario was very tangible to the teen. He couldn't begin to know what it would be like to endure such loss, such pain. True, being an orphan was painful, oh how he knew that too well, but to have known love as Takao had and to lose it- that... that was true pain.

Suddenly though, the tables were turned upon the teen, as Takao's sage'y big brother advice caught Yoshihiro off guard- despite having asked for it only minutes ago. The teen's face flushed with blood as he sat back on his stool, hiding his red face from the man by putting the canvas between them both. "T-that is none of your business!" he started, fiddling with the brush in his hand somewhat anxiously. Takao had given him good advice, certainly, but Yoshihiro was still rather uncertain when it came to this sort of thing. He brushed the rest of Karou and the man's body in, working on putting the finishing touches into the piece as a whole. "She's... She's a Hyuga" he admitted at last, after a brief period of silence.

"I dunno what to think, to be honest. The second sentence I said to her was that I thought her face looked really soft- do girls like being told that?" the teen asked, making a light clicking sound with his tongue. He sun above them both had reached its height in the midday, finally beginning to slowly begin its descent into the evening. The teen was almost done, maybe this is what he needed all along, something to help clear his mind. He arced his brush along the large log, working on filling in the rest of the canvas with a good background to match the two subjects of the painting.

"I can't be thinking about silly stuff like all that. I have enough problems to deal with as it is. The Chunin Exams are almost here, and I'm right on the cusp of deciding to compete or wait until the next year" he said, letting out a slow sigh as he sat up fully on his stool to inspect the piece. "Do I fight knowing that as a fresh graduate my physical and jutsu presence will be far less than my competitors, or do I wait for the next year and miss out on this opportunity?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically and somewhat to the older man.

After a moment, the teen poked his head out from around the canvas, gesturing to Takao. "It's finished, come take a look" he said, sitting back to inspect the final product.

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Yoshi thought over Takao's words of advice as the two looked at the final painting. It wasn't professional per se, but it still looked pretty darn good if he could say so himself. The picture of the man and his dog on the log was sublime, capturing the different colors of the fall leaves, hues of yellow and red cascading down onto them as well as the forest floor. The teen gave a content sigh, putting his supplies back down into his bag. The Chunin Exams would come here, but if Takao had joined espite being a Genin for less time than even Yoshi, than why couldn't the teen at least try to go into it with everything he had?

Takao had raised an interesting point after all, what did Yoshi have to lose? He wouldn't be killed (or so he hoped) nor would he be looked down upon if he lost, at least, he hoped not. "I'm an orphan" he stated as Takao looked over the painting, "I'm a one-man-clan, I've got nothing in life to lose" he added, tilting his head as he looked at the painting some more. "If you had nothing in life, but had one chance to seize the day and seize your future. Wouldn't you take it?" he asked, though both men already knew what such an answer would be.

It felt good to receive some form of recognition by the older man, the small pat on the back that he gave Yoshi causing the teen to sit up a tad straighter in pride. He didn't have the opportunity to show himself off, it was difficult to traverse the line between humility and self-deprecation, it was a task that Yoshi had difficulty doing. The boy could only manage a small nod in return to Takao's compliment then, "Yes, I guess it does look pretty solid" he stated, briefly closing his eyes as a long but slow sigh escaped his lips. For a moment, his mind heard nothing save for the sound of the running water nor the thumping of his own heart within his chest. He liked this feeling, the warmth of the sun, and the gratification of being complimented by one whom he admired as a teacher. When Yoshi opened his eyes again, the moment passed, and just like that, he was back in the real world.

The teen got up from his stool, putting his painting supplies into his bag as well as walking over to wash the brush heads in the water of the stream whilst Takao asked him to do another piece. Yoshi looked over his shoulder at the commission, unsure of what to make of it. He was naturally flattered that the man thought his art was good enough to be made a personal piece, but still he was nervous about making his paintings for other people. "If you want one, I'd be happy to do so. You'll have to pay though, being an orphan isn't cheap, nor is trying to make a living off of doing missions as a Genin" he explained, standing up and holding the dried painting under his free arm while he held the stool with the other. "I hope to see you again , either before or after the Exams. Until then, farewell. I trust you'll find me quite easily about town if you wish to have me paint, it takes a special skill to become a Hokage after all" Yoshi said, giving the man a small smile and bumping his chest against Takao's torso as a way of saying goodbye since both of his hands were full.

And with that, the modest Genin began walking back up the trail from which he had come, with a new painting and a new friend to call his own. He smiled a tad once he knew Takao was out of sight, it was a good day indeed.

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[Exit Thread]

Total WC: 4206

• Training Strength, E → D: 750/750
  
• Training Speed, E → D: 750/750
  
• Training Endurance, E → D: 750/750
  
• Training Perception, E → D: 750/750
  
• Training Reaction Time, E → D1: 1075/1075

Left over with 131 WC, letting it be wasted.

Training Rasenshuriken. (S-Rank || 5,000wc (doubled restricted tech) - 20% (genius) = 4,000wc)
6wc discarded.