It was a day off but that hardly meant lack of work; the towering man had little in the way of a social life, which perhaps was a little bit of a problem. He hadn’t really considered anyone a friend for a long time, and had become even more reclusive since the incident two years ago. As much as he despised the left arm he had, it was starting to become noticed little by little; observant folk resided in the village and questions were starting to form in the minds of those who observed the bandage wrapped limb.
When he’d broken his right arm training, he had been forced to use his left hand; and though he was left handed to begin with, the limb was clumsy and awkward not always responding as it should or when it did the reaction was overdone. So, swallowing his pride, the man had begun to rehabilitate the arm at home; doing exercises that worked the fine-motor skills of the fingers as well as training his mind to gauge the amount of force he put behind the use of the limb. One major factor that was working against him was that he couldn’t feel anything but a burning tingle in his shoulder where the joint once was during moving the limb.
The effort he took to make sure he could blend in, make it so people didn’t ask questions. He was fit and his body was well sculpted, people would think nothing of having a bandaged limb on his figure so long as it was moving and being used; at least that is what he hoped. For the last several years he had been keeping it out of sight and attempting to keep it out of mind but that was proving to be impossible the more Ryu interacted with people.
Since today was a day off, Ryu was using it to work on rehabilitation. By painting ceramic statues. Since he didn’t want to make a mess of his home, the towering man reclined in the small side yard beside the family residence he had inherited when his father passed on many years ago. He wore unembroidered, khaki colored hakama, and a sleeveless vest that covered him up enough to be considered decent but was left open and showed the heavy rippling muscle of his stomach and hinted at the slabs of his pectorals. The man’s hair was up in a warrior’s tail and blazing scarlet in the morning beams of sun bringing out the subtle highlights of his straight, thick hair. Violet-blue eyes seemed to be focused on the small statue of a samurai in full regalia, holding a katana to the side as a salute; but would flick up to pay attention to new motion around him for a moment. The monstrous arm was still wrapped in clean linen bandage from shoulder to finger tips but it held a brush that looked very, very dainty and tiny in the large fingers holding it. He was touching the brush to the ceramic carefully, hand shaking visibly when it got nearer to the statuette.
The samurai statuette was barely touched by color, more white-grey showing than the splotches of color that clashed a little garishly. Yet despite the terrible look of the work so far, Ryu simply rinsed and repeated the cycle of painting the thing with careful and measured motions.
When he’d broken his right arm training, he had been forced to use his left hand; and though he was left handed to begin with, the limb was clumsy and awkward not always responding as it should or when it did the reaction was overdone. So, swallowing his pride, the man had begun to rehabilitate the arm at home; doing exercises that worked the fine-motor skills of the fingers as well as training his mind to gauge the amount of force he put behind the use of the limb. One major factor that was working against him was that he couldn’t feel anything but a burning tingle in his shoulder where the joint once was during moving the limb.
The effort he took to make sure he could blend in, make it so people didn’t ask questions. He was fit and his body was well sculpted, people would think nothing of having a bandaged limb on his figure so long as it was moving and being used; at least that is what he hoped. For the last several years he had been keeping it out of sight and attempting to keep it out of mind but that was proving to be impossible the more Ryu interacted with people.
Since today was a day off, Ryu was using it to work on rehabilitation. By painting ceramic statues. Since he didn’t want to make a mess of his home, the towering man reclined in the small side yard beside the family residence he had inherited when his father passed on many years ago. He wore unembroidered, khaki colored hakama, and a sleeveless vest that covered him up enough to be considered decent but was left open and showed the heavy rippling muscle of his stomach and hinted at the slabs of his pectorals. The man’s hair was up in a warrior’s tail and blazing scarlet in the morning beams of sun bringing out the subtle highlights of his straight, thick hair. Violet-blue eyes seemed to be focused on the small statue of a samurai in full regalia, holding a katana to the side as a salute; but would flick up to pay attention to new motion around him for a moment. The monstrous arm was still wrapped in clean linen bandage from shoulder to finger tips but it held a brush that looked very, very dainty and tiny in the large fingers holding it. He was touching the brush to the ceramic carefully, hand shaking visibly when it got nearer to the statuette.
The samurai statuette was barely touched by color, more white-grey showing than the splotches of color that clashed a little garishly. Yet despite the terrible look of the work so far, Ryu simply rinsed and repeated the cycle of painting the thing with careful and measured motions.