Daraku's eyes opened slowly, and he found himself not in a cold sweat for once. He hadn't woken up without having had some sort of nightmare in weeks, so it was a pleasant morning already. He yawned and stretched like a lazy cat, pawing at his hair and staring at himself in the mirror, nothing different than the regular morning routine. By the time he went into the shower and washed himself off, he'd managed to make something decent looking out of his hair and go down to greet the rest of the clan. There was someone in particular he was looking for today, though; his eyes scanned the castle as he walked around, seeking his uncle. He needed some time to train, think things over while he chopped up everything and stabbed stuff, and Kiyoshi was the perfect person for such training. Or most readily available, to be honest. Either way.

A familiar face caught Daraku's eye. There he was! "Kiyoshi! Get over here." Kiyoshi gave him a confused look. Daraku stared at him for a while. Awkward silence, long pause, etc., etc. Other clan members walked past, giving them passing glances and wondering what exactly they were doing. "Why are you staring at me?" he asked Daraku as they stood. Daraku wasn't exactly sure of why himself, he just wasn't saying anything, like the words were trapped in his throat. A dizzy spell overtook him, and he felt exhausted. What the...? He fell to his knees, everything was fading. He heard the terrified voices, screaming, figures and shadows rushing to his side. It was quite the scene. Kiyoshi knelt over the fallen Daraku and shook him, to no real avail or consequence. Silence stirred uncomfortably in his mind as the ruckus only intensified in reality. They carried him to the Hospital immediately.


Daraku's eyes fluttered open; he was in mid-air, floating above something large. What it was, exactly, he couldn't tell, but it was nearly 10 times his own size. It was covered in brown fur, and there was a skull on its back...he levitated over it, trying to figure out what it all meant and what the hell it was, when it shifted. Two appendages moved, which he identified as wings. It was a massive Death's-head Hawkmoth, hovering here and there, presently flying away from him. The beat of its wings created a massive torrent of wind, creating a noise equivalent to that of a raging typhoon. Daraku's small figure was swept into the wild winds, and a mutltitude of moths seemed to follow suit, flying in a swarm through the tornado. First dozens, then hundreds, then thousands, and more and more, until he was engulfed in them. He opened his mouth to let out a scream, but only choked on many of them flying in. He struggled to move, to cough, to do anything...this familiar helplessness was just like his father's genjutsu during their battle, and it drove Daraku mad. Finally, over all of the wind blowing and the moths flapping their wings, a voice came through, soft and serene. It was unintelligible, but he noticed the person who bore the voice through the gap in the swarm...they were approaching, ever so closely, as if walking on the wind itself. They held out a hand...

Wake up... faintly, now, but growing louder. Wake up... Daraku heard the beckoning calls but still couldn't move. It was like paralysis from the neck down, and he was forced to watch as the swarm finally broke, following the gargantuan sphinx moth on its course. The raging winds whipped around him, but the figure was now sprinting, desperately grabbing for Daraku's hand. The body resisted the mind's will to move, as Daraku felt the falling sensation, and tilted his head...gravity had found its way to him again, and underneath the tornado lie a landscape, a long way down. He surely wouldn't survive the fall, that was a given, but he didn't feel afraid, he only felt welcoming to the brutal death below. A different voice chimed in, one he recognized as his father's. "I just wasn't strong enough...strong enough...strong enough..." The voice grew distorted as Daraku distanced from it. "I-If I die...die here...be-become a moth...sage..." The voice lost all audibility, and the original figure that had been trying to save him faded as Daraku accelerated, falling at maximum velocity. The ground was so close...his last moments, he felt a tear, not one of sadness but one of relief, drop from his eye--only to be carried off of his cheek by the impossible speed at which he was falling. He felt the sudden thud against the hard stone, and everything was dark again as his mangled body lay stagnant and lifeless and his mind seemed to lose itself to death's embrace.


But death is never that easy, is it?

"Daraku? Daraku, wake up, you blacked out. They said it was a psychogenic loss of consciousness, from extreme stress. You fell pretty hard, lucky you didn't hurt your head badly." Daraku heard his uncle's voice loud and clear, but didn't respond. He looked around the room, a hospital room by the looks of it. He shifted in his bed and sat up, removing the IV from his arm and pressing a hand to his left knee. He felt an intense pain; severe swelling and bruising.  His shoulder carried a slightly different sensation of pain, one reminiscent of a dislocation. He opened his mouth and let out a hoarse tone. "My shoulder, it's dislocated. They didn't even try to put it back into place? These dumbasses, no wonder Suna's Medical Division isn't worth shit." He held out his arm, offering his hand to Kiyoshi. "Hold me in place while I fix it. Tight grip, now, I'm going to yank hard and fast." Kiyoshi accepted the hand, and Daraku twisted a bit to the left and pulled his arm forward, causing a sharp crack. He bit his lower lip to endure the pain without so much as a wince.

"Psychogenic loss of consciousness, huh? So I just need to reduce my stress and I'll be fine. Let's go."

"Daraku, it isn't safe to just leave after you black out like that! What if it's something more? You need to stay and rest."

"No, I don't. I'm a medical ninja and I know more than all of these quacks combined, and I say I'll be fine. C'mon, Uncle Kiyoshi, I'm going to go train, and you're going to help me. That's the whole reason I was looking for you in the courtyard earlier, and I'm not going to change my plans just because I fainted. It's not like I'm terminally ill, so just get over it." Daraku stood up and removed his bandages and hospital gown, and unfolded his cloths which were neatly arranged on the nightstand next to the bed. He put them on and held out his hand, infusing it with healing chakra and pressing it to his wounded arm until the pain stopped and the bruising and accompanied swelling was significantly lower. He made his way out of the room, not bothering to look back to see if Kiyoshi was following; the footsteps he heard within seconds gave him the answer he needed, and he left the hospital, headed out into the sands he knew so well.

"What's gotten into you, Daraku? You're so...different, today."

"Trust me, Kiyoshi, this isn't different. This is me as I am. For my last few weeks as Clan Head I've been different; mature, responsible, and a true leader. But that doesn't mean that I have to abandon who I am; narcissistic, impatient, and a bloodthirsty ninja. I'm in need of some training, and that's exactly what you're gonna help me with." They continued to speak, with Daraku explaining the premise behind today's training session as they walked. Eventually, they arrived at their destination: the Sandy Arena, a popular fenced training ground that most ninja of the village trained at. There was a group of younger ninjas that were training at that moment, in fact, but they were only a distraction and an annoyance in Daraku's eyes. He looked at them with simple displeasure. "GET OUT OF HERE, YOU LITTLE ASSHOLES! I've got training to do, do yours somewhere else." They looked over to him, not terrified as he would have liked to see them but still obedient. They left without further need for coercion. "Ah. Apart from the whole fainting deal, I'd say this is a good way to start the day. Let's get to it, then."

The blonde ninja examined the training grounds, before making a decision on what to practice first. "Ok, I'm going to trust you with this. Attack me with everything that you've got, and the goal here is to heal myself completely after enduring near-lethal blows. That will serve to help me practice medical ninjutsu and saving myself from the brink of death, see? Whenever you're ready, come at me." Kiyoshi nodded and began to form hand seals, signaling complicated ninjutsu. Daraku had felt this same feeling so many times before, waiting for his opponent to strike but knowing full well that he would be the victor even though in this case it wasn't really a competition. He grinned widely and kept one hand to his hip to keep his weapons readily available for swift use. The fact that he could only grow stronger from here made his eyes beam with excitement...

Training:

Kiyoshi grew wary, looking Daraku up and down to try and decipher exactly how to go about attacking. Daraku was an A-Rank ninja who had killed many...a straightforward attack wouldn't work, because it wasn't like he wasn't going to put up a fight and just let Kiyoshi hit him. Then Ninjutsu would be the best course of action, a ranged attack before anything else, so he began to make the corresponding hand seals. True, Kiyoshi was more of a Taijutsu behemoth, but Ninjutsu had its uses, certainly. "Ok, here it goes, then." he said, in the calm tone that he always seemed to have. He finished he sequence, and his hands were charged with obscene levels of electricity at this point. He held them out, forming a triangle with his fingers, and a massive lightning bolt jumped forward, slamming Daraku in the chest. It didn't even knock him back or phase him, though; the blow's damage was deemed minimal, as he pushed the cloak he wore out of the way to reveal his armor.

"C'mon, uncle. Raiton is nothing against me while I'm wearing this. Give me all you've got, just not Raiton." Daraku smiled as he said this, fairly amused by the buildup of such a jutsu just to be a waste of chakra against his guard. He changed footing, slowly revealing the newest sword in his arsenal. The blade was on his back, but as he pulled it free from its scabbard, it seemed a bit anticlimactic, looking no different from the everyday sword carried by ninja of average calibur. Its looks were deceiving; he held it out in front of him, and chakra erupted from his silhouette, forming a large, deep-orange aura around him. The blade began to take in the aura, feeding off of the chakra until there was none left floating about. It saturated within the weapon, building pressure and heat, and finally it burst into wild red flames. "I don't mean to make your task too difficult, seeing as you're the one helping me train and all...but I'd like to show you my newest sword: the False Sun, Nisebi." The flames burned bright, blinding enough for Kiyoshi to stagger back and cover his eyes with an arm. Daraku took the opportunity to dash forward, keeping the blade held firmly in his left hand, ready to slash. The distance between the two combatants was closing rapidly.

"Get up, Kiyoshi, I'm not going to go easy on you! Consider this training for the both of us, we could use stronger ninja in the higher ranks of our clan." Kiyoshi shuffled in the sand, struggled to his feet, and held out a hand. A Raiton barrier formed in under a second, just in time to stop the incoming sword blow. Nisebi clashed against the Raiton energy, sending sparks in all directions. Kiyoshi formed another jutsu in his opposite hand while he had Daraku close enough to strike. "Don't count me out just yet, you're forgetting that I have many more years of experience in battle than you." His fist was soon shrouded in a veil of water, shaping into a drill-like form. He smashed the drill into Daraku's torso before the opportunity was gone, and the water spun violently, piercing into the armor until it reached flesh, tearing away at the fresh skin. Daraku was thrown backwards, and he landed in the sand with a loud thud, holding the bloody stab wound in his stomach. "Hehe, you've...g-got a point there." he retorted as he rose to his feet again. 

"Don't stop now, bring it on. This is only the beginning."

Training:

The pain in Daraku's stomach made him cringe as he tried to go at Kiyoshi with Nisebi, slashing off to the left. Kiyoshi braced himself with the water drill still present around his hand; the two weapons clashed, and neutralized one another, leaving Nisebi without its flames for the briefest of moments and evaporating the water drill entirely. Kiyoshi's speed was equal to Daraku's, however, and he ducked out of the way, sprinting in a full circle to reach Daraku's blind spot. He charged at him with a clenched fist, ready to strike, but Daraku held fast, holding the newly rekindled Nisebi out behind his back to stop Kiyoshi. They were again stuck at a stalemate, but this time, Daraku took the opportunity to spin and slash upwards, cutting into Kiyoshi's torso and leaving behind burns. Blood dripped from the wound, and Kiyoshi gave a half smile. "Good reaction time, but though we may be on equal ground in speed, strength is another story!"Kiyoshi yelled as he switched footing, letting chakra saturate in his fists again.

Daraku dashed away, flitting through the sand at top speed; he was almost a blur, matching his father's prowess. An expression of confidence lingered on his face as he changed directions on a whim, headed towards his uncle, and sent a rapid succession of sword strikes to the man's torso. Kiyoshi dodged each one efficiently, still suffering a few scrapes and cuts here and there but remaining mostly unharmed. He even managed to counterattack, throwing back devastating punches which Daraku avoided as best he could. They chased one another back and forth across the sandy battlefield, exchanging and evading blows with equivalent dexterity and determination between the two. Anyone spectating from the outside wouldn't have even seen the battle happening; they were moving at such violent speeds that they weren't fully visible, and the only indications that they were sparring were the clashes of Kiyoshi's gauntlets against Daraku's sword, and the sand stirring all around them in a whirlwind as the moved.

This state of struggle didn't last much longer, though. Kiyoshi gained an upper hand by tripping Daraku when it was least expected, sending the ninja tumbling forward. He followed through by catching Daraku as he sailed through the air, not with a steady hand but with a direct punch to the chest. The cracking of ribs was heard, and Daraku was sent flying in the other direction, crashing into the chain fence hard. He couldn't muster the energy to stand, so he sat there and held his still-bleeding stab wound and his damaged ribcage. "Alright, you've got me," he said, as he paused to spit up a bit of blood, "Now, come over here while I start the healing process." Kiyoshi obeyed, making his way over to his fallen nephew and kneeling down so that their eyes met. Blood painted the sand like a dry canvas, seeping in and leaving behind crimson lines of abstract art. Daraku activated his Advanced Recovery Method, and began healing the wounds progressively.

"You know, Kiyoshi, I've been doing Medical Ninjutsu for years and years, since I learned it from my mother...but I still never get used to seeing my own blood. It's a bit unsettling...but I have noticed that I'm getting better about it. I'm also getting better at Medical Ninjutsu as a whole, using it both to attack and to heal. The things I can do to a human body with my chakra, be them ruthless and macabre or miraculous and restorative, are growing stronger. I even impress myself sometimes." Daraku stopped speaking there, looking back down to the stab wound and his broken ribs. The stab wound was closed now, and nearly healed; the ribcage would take a lot longer, and the pain was excruciating, but he didn't make the slightest sound. He occupied himself by thinking about how awesome he was to take his mind off the pain. Quite narcissistic, but he couldn't help who he was.

As time rolled by, the pain began to relent, and the ribs moved back into place as the bones regenerated. Daraku focused on the area, concentrating the chakra further so that it healed faster. Doing so exhausted him, but he wanted to practice precision healing to master pinpoint chakra control. He felt the chakra flow through his body, working to repair him. He knew this sensation well, and by this point his ability to manipulate the flow of his own chakra was something he found easy. He remembered back when he had first started using Medical Ninjutsu, and how he and his mother trained for hours and hours just to do small, simplex tasks with the art. She would be proud to see his prowess in it now, if she was still alive...a few moments passed, and the blue glow faded from Daraku's hands as he ended the jutsu. "Healed to perfection. Ok, that'll be enough training for now. We'll continue this session in a few hours, in the meantime, I'm gonna go get some rest and eat something. Meet you back here at...hmm, let's go for 3 PM. Got it?" Kiyoshi nodded, cracking his neck. "Yeah, see you then." And without further ado, Daraku left the arena, taking the long, scenic path back to the stronghold so that he could get a good view of the vast dunes as he walked.

[Exit, Thread Closed]

Training: