At one of the many training areas within the gates of Kumogakure, surrounded by high peaks and thick fog, Nanjirou Tsubame sat cross legged on a rock. In meditation, her sword floated in front of her with the ether blue flame of chakra around it. Inside the sword or perhaps inside her own mind, the girl delved into the lessons that the “Demon Sword Ganesh” had to offer.
On a mental version of the landscape that the girl was sitting on, Ganesh appeared before the girl as a tall, gray, and muscular old man wearing an oni mask. At his hip was the same sword that represented him in the physical world. As Tsubame stood, her casual attire of pink and red clothing melted away into her shinobi gear. Armored black gloves and boots, minimal clothing to not interfere with her movements, a black and blue color scheme for night and dark operations. Her favorite piece was the black scarf she wore over the bottom half of her face. It was soft, sturdy, and still flowing material. With it worn correctly, it showed her shinobi headband around her neck. While it was on, she felt like a real shinobi.
“Now that you’ve graduated the academy,” Ganesh began, “even an idiot like you knows how to move their body if only a slight bit properly. So we can begin to instruct you in kenjutsu styles. For you, we start with this.”
With eager anticipation, Tsubame bound to her feet and copied Ganesh’s stance as perfectly as she could manage. He drew his sword and she drew hers. The right hand choked up and pressed against the cross guard while the the left gently held the pommel. Sword raised over hear like a lightning rod. With one swift motion the sword was brought down with a proud cleave that was straight, true, and controlled. Tsubame’s imitation was… less so. Her elbows buckled and her wrists lacked the dedication that the master had displayed. At the end of her arc, Ganesh slapped her sword from her hands simply by clashing his sword against it. With a panicked stumble she went and retrieved it and returned to stance.
“Idiot!” The man barked harshly from behind his mask. “Dunce of a woman! You may have went through the academy but you will never be a shinobi if you can not swing that sword properly! Again!”
Tsubame swung her sword and Ganesh clashed his against hers. The sword did not fly from girl’s hands but was easily pushed to the side. With a bright shine of light the man’s sword swam through the air and stopped with the tip just barely piercing the girl’s neck. Though she very much wanted to, she did not flinch. Her golden eyes remained locked on something beyond her current situation. Focus much stronger than her body could produce. The would-be swordsman returned to stance and swung again.
“You’re dead!” He chastised as he smacked her sword as casually as one could smack a bug from their path. “You’re on the ground and you are dead. Bleeding from the blade you couldn’t stop!” He antagonized and picked at mental wounds. In the fog of her meditation there was a shadow of her former home. A shadow of the memory of the night her parents were murdered. The girl’s eyes narrowed on to the emotion as she swung her sword again. The clang of metal as the swords clashed again. She was moved but not as easily. She pushed the shadows aside and focused on the lesson.
It wasn’t just about the sword swing. It was about the muscles. Not just the arm muscles though. It was the back, the stomach, the legs. Though she was just swinging a sword up and down, Ganesh was instructing her in the focus that was required to swing with conviction. Yes, that was the word he wanted to press into her- conviction. Each sword swing was a path she was taking back to that night and each time he smacked her sword away he was putting a roadblock in that path. Once the spirit felt that the girl had comprehended the lesson he gave her a sign to stop.
“I suppose even a little girl can be taught how to swing a sword up and down if the teacher is good enough. Practice on your own for a week in the physical world. And try to eat some meat. You’re too skinny for swordsmanship.”
With that, Ganesh vanished. The mental visit lasted about 2 hours in her mind but only thirty minutes had passed in the real world. Under her tutor’s instruction, Tsubame practiced another hour before she called it a day.
WC: 787
[Thread End]
On a mental version of the landscape that the girl was sitting on, Ganesh appeared before the girl as a tall, gray, and muscular old man wearing an oni mask. At his hip was the same sword that represented him in the physical world. As Tsubame stood, her casual attire of pink and red clothing melted away into her shinobi gear. Armored black gloves and boots, minimal clothing to not interfere with her movements, a black and blue color scheme for night and dark operations. Her favorite piece was the black scarf she wore over the bottom half of her face. It was soft, sturdy, and still flowing material. With it worn correctly, it showed her shinobi headband around her neck. While it was on, she felt like a real shinobi.
“Now that you’ve graduated the academy,” Ganesh began, “even an idiot like you knows how to move their body if only a slight bit properly. So we can begin to instruct you in kenjutsu styles. For you, we start with this.”
With eager anticipation, Tsubame bound to her feet and copied Ganesh’s stance as perfectly as she could manage. He drew his sword and she drew hers. The right hand choked up and pressed against the cross guard while the the left gently held the pommel. Sword raised over hear like a lightning rod. With one swift motion the sword was brought down with a proud cleave that was straight, true, and controlled. Tsubame’s imitation was… less so. Her elbows buckled and her wrists lacked the dedication that the master had displayed. At the end of her arc, Ganesh slapped her sword from her hands simply by clashing his sword against it. With a panicked stumble she went and retrieved it and returned to stance.
“Idiot!” The man barked harshly from behind his mask. “Dunce of a woman! You may have went through the academy but you will never be a shinobi if you can not swing that sword properly! Again!”
Tsubame swung her sword and Ganesh clashed his against hers. The sword did not fly from girl’s hands but was easily pushed to the side. With a bright shine of light the man’s sword swam through the air and stopped with the tip just barely piercing the girl’s neck. Though she very much wanted to, she did not flinch. Her golden eyes remained locked on something beyond her current situation. Focus much stronger than her body could produce. The would-be swordsman returned to stance and swung again.
“You’re dead!” He chastised as he smacked her sword as casually as one could smack a bug from their path. “You’re on the ground and you are dead. Bleeding from the blade you couldn’t stop!” He antagonized and picked at mental wounds. In the fog of her meditation there was a shadow of her former home. A shadow of the memory of the night her parents were murdered. The girl’s eyes narrowed on to the emotion as she swung her sword again. The clang of metal as the swords clashed again. She was moved but not as easily. She pushed the shadows aside and focused on the lesson.
It wasn’t just about the sword swing. It was about the muscles. Not just the arm muscles though. It was the back, the stomach, the legs. Though she was just swinging a sword up and down, Ganesh was instructing her in the focus that was required to swing with conviction. Yes, that was the word he wanted to press into her- conviction. Each sword swing was a path she was taking back to that night and each time he smacked her sword away he was putting a roadblock in that path. Once the spirit felt that the girl had comprehended the lesson he gave her a sign to stop.
“I suppose even a little girl can be taught how to swing a sword up and down if the teacher is good enough. Practice on your own for a week in the physical world. And try to eat some meat. You’re too skinny for swordsmanship.”
With that, Ganesh vanished. The mental visit lasted about 2 hours in her mind but only thirty minutes had passed in the real world. Under her tutor’s instruction, Tsubame practiced another hour before she called it a day.
WC: 787
[Thread End]