The training grounds of Konoha to Mure seemed to resemble a prelude to a story leading many to greatness but all to the grave. Death was unavoidable after all. The marks on some of the tree's where far older then he himself. Yet still the wild life flourished here. As if the violent acts practiced here where not designed to bathe all of it in a curtain wave of blood. He felt no sympathy towards it all though. Death was but part of the cycle to life. The blood itself providing nutrients to the soil and in some cases attracting new life where it would not have other wise existed. The paradox of life was always leading into more unique and interesting things. However he had so little time to contemplate if his own death would bring life or just subtle bones in a desert. Rumors where spreading of some powerful missing nin coming this way and he had seen people packing as much as they could carry and leaving. They where scared. And why not be? Kage after Kage had died at the hands of these men and villages burned in their wake. The very foot steps left behind coated in layers of blood. His fist clenches tightly as he lets his yellow eyes look over the tiny craters in front of him. If only he had more time to gain strength. He was not so confident that Konoha could deflect such an attack and still survive. Part of him considered running but most of him wanted to stay. He would not be of much help but at the very least he hoped if it came down to it he would give an extra push to it all. Even if he was nothing in comparison he would still stand.

Either way his mind wanders slowly back to the present. This particular training field had been someones major practice spot. Holes dotted the fields of grass like a sickness had infected it. Its outer layer of skin torn in so many places. The Taijutsu training poles where also chipped away and worn. Some where just plain broken with splinters left where the top used to be. This is how others dealt with their fear. They trained and trained if only to grow stronger. Such determination was an admirable trait in any man. And it was that dedication that gave him hope with such a shadow encroaching upon his home. His hand reaches down to grab the shovel from the shed next to him. It felt light in his hands but awkward. Not a tool used for combat usually so it didn't seem to fit in his grip well. Still he dips the tip into a bag of sod and pushes it further down with his heel. A nice big scoop for the hole he targeted first. Then it was carefully dumped into the hole and patted down nice and tight. This went on for some time as there where many holes to be filled. When that was done he put away the shovel and sod before looking back over his work. It was less dangerous to the training individual to trip and hurt themselves. But the land itself still looked like a sad, diseased thing with so many grass-less spots. Next he moved over to the training poles taking down the damaged ones was a slight chore not to get stuck with a splinter in the process. Afterwards he would erect new ones and check that the rope was tight at the tops. He would return here soon enough but not for the mission. Nay indeed he needed to train as well if he was to grow stronger.

Exit thread.