There were two known purposes for an arena and perhaps a few unknown ones involving large quantities of water and lion-boat-hybrids...to be filled with people and then filled with corpses. Since the arena was currently in neither state, Yukiin found the spot to be mildly disconcerting. He was on edge before, he always was, but he had no need to be here and had downgrading that instinct into a discomfort. This was not home, this was not safe, and it was instead a bundled ball of energy waiting to be unleashed. Small crowd, largely filled with students aiming to take notes and glean information before they we're expected to discuss and implement them in the classroom...at least he hoped, the Main Branch had undergone several revisions as of late and likely altered their ciriculum as well so for all he knew they taught exclusively origami.
But he was here to teach them something useful, or to he used to teach them as much, in the realm of conflict. He'd signed his papers and presumably the opponent had as well, waived right to legal complaint from injuries received up to and including accidental or incidental death, though this was unlikely.
Perhaps before these past few months Yukiin would be in the attitude of being the winner, without exception, but after his injuries and failures prior that confidence had been wounded. Even as an undead monster he was strong, but he was defeatable and that tore at something in his core like a virulent itch no hand could scratch.
Here he could let loose though, work off his steam (or cold vapor in his case) and the shinobi entered the arena with a stride that said "I am here to reasonably fuck things up and then go home and file my taxes in a timely manner."
Body armor affixed.
Traps set.
Body temperature critically low.
Byakko, Yukiin was simply waiting on the other side of the stone cage, meeting the eyes of a few youth who were quickly snapped at for rude staring. Well, he was a monster. Even a child could tell that much. The attention of a few young Byakugan holders was expected, his internal system was a slurry rather than pathways after all, but the Uchiha seemed absorbed in his pacing more than what he contained...like it was little to smooth, too perfect, a replication of a human form that lacked it's imperfections. He was not used to this kind of scrutiny, in fact these were the first people outside of his branch to see him like this and in a moment of rising discomfort he broke vision with them.
"Where's this other guy at, I can't be gawked at all day and not get paid..." The medic sighed, briefly considering if there were stripper ninjas who did get paid to he oggled but he was in the wrong branch as that certainly sounded like ANBU work.
But he was here to teach them something useful, or to he used to teach them as much, in the realm of conflict. He'd signed his papers and presumably the opponent had as well, waived right to legal complaint from injuries received up to and including accidental or incidental death, though this was unlikely.
Perhaps before these past few months Yukiin would be in the attitude of being the winner, without exception, but after his injuries and failures prior that confidence had been wounded. Even as an undead monster he was strong, but he was defeatable and that tore at something in his core like a virulent itch no hand could scratch.
Here he could let loose though, work off his steam (or cold vapor in his case) and the shinobi entered the arena with a stride that said "I am here to reasonably fuck things up and then go home and file my taxes in a timely manner."
Body armor affixed.
Traps set.
Body temperature critically low.
Byakko, Yukiin was simply waiting on the other side of the stone cage, meeting the eyes of a few youth who were quickly snapped at for rude staring. Well, he was a monster. Even a child could tell that much. The attention of a few young Byakugan holders was expected, his internal system was a slurry rather than pathways after all, but the Uchiha seemed absorbed in his pacing more than what he contained...like it was little to smooth, too perfect, a replication of a human form that lacked it's imperfections. He was not used to this kind of scrutiny, in fact these were the first people outside of his branch to see him like this and in a moment of rising discomfort he broke vision with them.
"Where's this other guy at, I can't be gawked at all day and not get paid..." The medic sighed, briefly considering if there were stripper ninjas who did get paid to he oggled but he was in the wrong branch as that certainly sounded like ANBU work.
