Post by Shimamura Yoshiaki on May 25, 2008 15:13:53 GMT -5
Even from the top of the hill, those guards that had been placed for sure around Kirigakure were impossible to spot. Maybe someone with a higher rank and specialized in stealth would’ve been able to do so, but Yoshiaki was failing with brio at the moment. He squinted down at the valley that cradled his village, and then beyond it at the couple of access points into it, but all he could spot were the signs announcing that Kiri was nearby. They were tiny, from that distance, and he couldn’t make out the black calligraphy, but he knew it was there. And so were the Chuunin guards, watching from some carefully chosen hiding places that hid them even from eyes like his, who knew the approximate area they’d be in. But all he got was damn trees, bushes, and rocks, and nothing moved at all. Yet he stood there stubbornly, with a frown on his face and his arms crossed on his chest, and kept glaring at the area as though he could scare it into revealing something. The usual curtain of mist was a lot thinner than usual, since the day was nice and rather warm for the country, but that didn’t help much either.
“Tch,” he grunted in displeasure when he still had no success, pausing to blow an angry jet of air out of his mouth, to cast some hair out of his face. “Someone’s not makin’ it to Jounin very soon.”
That was, of course, ridiculous. Yoshiaki was 15 and definitely not any kind of prodigy at all, just another average shinobi, so he had a very long way to go before getting some advanced rank like that, if he was ever going to get it at all. But he was making that comment to vent the frustration that still lingered around him from his father’s comment about an hour ago. Katsuo only meant well to his son when he sent him to train, and when he pointed various more successful figures around the village as examples. But Yoshiaki didn’t like that kind of stuff. He knew what he was good for and what not, and he wasn’t stupid not to realize he had to train, either. He just had a problem doing it if other people told him to. In the Academy, he’d had to listen because it was more trouble than it was worth if he didn’t, and even if not, he’d always end up forced one way or another, which was humiliating. But his father was not the Academy, and he’d rather die than listen when it was possible to do the opposite.
“Hmph.”
With that last very eloquent a word, the young boy stepped back a couple of feet from the fence –- and the promise of a nasty fall off that abrupt hill-edge -– and then, loosing his arms back to his sides, he shifted his body’s weight and dropped swiftly from his feet onto his back, in the grass. He barely made any noise when he hit the ground, since it was such basic training to know how to fall lightly, without taking damage. You just had to control your weight center and the speed and exact angle of the drop and you were fine. Of course, in the middle of battle and when you didn’t choose to drop down on your own it was a lot crappier and more difficult, and he’d never gotten it too right, but for now it had been all his doing. He crossed his wrists below his head since the ground was chilly and he didn’t want to get a headache later, and closed his eyes. Like he didn’t know he had to train. Of course he did. But now he was going to rest, since he hadn’t been left alone about this stuff.
“Damned old-man,” he mumbled. “Stop dreaming that your kid’s gonna be some stupid kind of hero ‘n the likes. I’m not that type of guy, anyway.”
To someone overhearing him, not only now but after any of his many arguments with his father, Yoshiaki might have sounded like someone a lot more annoyed than he really was. Although some of the village elders who had spoken to him when he was younger, like they eventually did with every shinobi in the village, had been able to figure him out. And they’d told him he was being childish about his dad and that he should give Katsuo a chance and show his true feelings. Yoshiaki had only rolled his eyes then, which had been greeted with amusement by them. Whatever, if they didn’t like what he was doing, then too bad. He couldn’t help being childish. He was just a kid after all, at 15, even though he was growing up now and the likes, quicker than civilian children too. And outsiders who didn’t know anything about his relationship to his dad should stay away from such comments anyway. They knew they were family, even if they didn’t say sentimental crap to each other. Stuff like that was for weak-hearted women, anyway.
And speaking of village elders, they were having some council or something at the moment, which was why the security level of the village had been doubled in the first place. Due to that, everyone was lazing around, aside from those unlucky enough to be sent off to guard spots that day, so why should he be training, out of all those people doing nothing useful with their time? Of course, Yoshiaki ‘forgot’ to think of a few specific people, like those kids who had been at the top of his class in the Academy, or those who had finished the Chuunin exam without breaking as much of a sweat as him, who were certain to be honing their skills, or to be on some mission in a far away place. But he forgave himself that omission, since that way he could feel like he was doing the right thing.
“Tch,” he grunted in displeasure when he still had no success, pausing to blow an angry jet of air out of his mouth, to cast some hair out of his face. “Someone’s not makin’ it to Jounin very soon.”
That was, of course, ridiculous. Yoshiaki was 15 and definitely not any kind of prodigy at all, just another average shinobi, so he had a very long way to go before getting some advanced rank like that, if he was ever going to get it at all. But he was making that comment to vent the frustration that still lingered around him from his father’s comment about an hour ago. Katsuo only meant well to his son when he sent him to train, and when he pointed various more successful figures around the village as examples. But Yoshiaki didn’t like that kind of stuff. He knew what he was good for and what not, and he wasn’t stupid not to realize he had to train, either. He just had a problem doing it if other people told him to. In the Academy, he’d had to listen because it was more trouble than it was worth if he didn’t, and even if not, he’d always end up forced one way or another, which was humiliating. But his father was not the Academy, and he’d rather die than listen when it was possible to do the opposite.
“Hmph.”
With that last very eloquent a word, the young boy stepped back a couple of feet from the fence –- and the promise of a nasty fall off that abrupt hill-edge -– and then, loosing his arms back to his sides, he shifted his body’s weight and dropped swiftly from his feet onto his back, in the grass. He barely made any noise when he hit the ground, since it was such basic training to know how to fall lightly, without taking damage. You just had to control your weight center and the speed and exact angle of the drop and you were fine. Of course, in the middle of battle and when you didn’t choose to drop down on your own it was a lot crappier and more difficult, and he’d never gotten it too right, but for now it had been all his doing. He crossed his wrists below his head since the ground was chilly and he didn’t want to get a headache later, and closed his eyes. Like he didn’t know he had to train. Of course he did. But now he was going to rest, since he hadn’t been left alone about this stuff.
“Damned old-man,” he mumbled. “Stop dreaming that your kid’s gonna be some stupid kind of hero ‘n the likes. I’m not that type of guy, anyway.”
To someone overhearing him, not only now but after any of his many arguments with his father, Yoshiaki might have sounded like someone a lot more annoyed than he really was. Although some of the village elders who had spoken to him when he was younger, like they eventually did with every shinobi in the village, had been able to figure him out. And they’d told him he was being childish about his dad and that he should give Katsuo a chance and show his true feelings. Yoshiaki had only rolled his eyes then, which had been greeted with amusement by them. Whatever, if they didn’t like what he was doing, then too bad. He couldn’t help being childish. He was just a kid after all, at 15, even though he was growing up now and the likes, quicker than civilian children too. And outsiders who didn’t know anything about his relationship to his dad should stay away from such comments anyway. They knew they were family, even if they didn’t say sentimental crap to each other. Stuff like that was for weak-hearted women, anyway.
And speaking of village elders, they were having some council or something at the moment, which was why the security level of the village had been doubled in the first place. Due to that, everyone was lazing around, aside from those unlucky enough to be sent off to guard spots that day, so why should he be training, out of all those people doing nothing useful with their time? Of course, Yoshiaki ‘forgot’ to think of a few specific people, like those kids who had been at the top of his class in the Academy, or those who had finished the Chuunin exam without breaking as much of a sweat as him, who were certain to be honing their skills, or to be on some mission in a far away place. But he forgave himself that omission, since that way he could feel like he was doing the right thing.
