Thin brown strands of hair danced in the wind as a small pale boy, walking by himself, shuddered. The sun had not yet blessed the sky with its warmth, and Enno was used to being up early to see the sunrise with his parents. That said, bitter mornings in Kumo were getting to be a bit much, especially the biting breeze that swept through more often than anyone from outside of the city seemed to care for. An extra scarf is all Enno was given by the academy officials, and it didn't help much. The rest of his thin standard issue shinobi gear was not sufficient to stop the frigid winds from chilling a young man new to the climate to the bone. The sad part is that this was one of the warmer mornings he'd experienced. A sharp inhale led to a cold nose and a cough.
Just keep walking, you'll warm up soon enough. The internal monologue played over and over in his head. If anything happened, he was assured medical attention was available at a moment's notice. This was one of a precious few welcome changes from his old life; living in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere generally didn't offer much in the case of an emergency. This benefit, however, did not outweigh the annoyance of constant sound. There was never any quiet amongst the training; even through the middle of the night the sound of metal striking wooden or hay targets could be heard near endlessly. It made for restless sleep. Enno wiped his eyes of crust with the end of the scarf, hoping the cold would subside a bit with the now rising sun.
It had been about a week since he began living in the dormitories of the academy, taken from his parents in exchange for a plot of land and a lifelong contract for supplying goods. His room was small, offering only a bed big enough for a large dog and enough room around it to store a few weapons, sets of clothes, and little else. The paper thin doors and walls meant there was no privacy offered by the space, only a roof to keep things dry and a warm place to rest his head. The only thing that stood out was a plaque on the wall that read "In memory of Hayata Shin, seventh Raikage. Your sacrifices will be remembered." Of course, this meant nothing to someone who didn't even know what a "Raikage" was. It would take some time to get used to his accomodations, but what choice did he have? Adjust and adapt, or stagnate, struggle, and perish.
And so, the shivering form continued his slow march around the training square, breathing heavily and coughing occasionally. It wasn't pleasant, but it would be necessary to prove himself worthy of survival. If there was one thing living impoverished and lonely taught a young child, it was how to survive on nothing. Enno's worst enemy at this point was his asthma; a ninja that can't run for a fair distance is hardly a ninja at all. Not that he had much of an idea as to what a ninja was. As the day warmed, something akin to confidence blossomed forth, and the stubborn child broke into a slow jog around the complex.
This is the only way.
Careful, heavy, controlled breaths. Step, lift, step, lift. He would get more practice with the tools of the trade later. For now, it was time for endurance training. If his lungs stayed that weak, he wouldn't survive a day on the field. Each step felt more pointless as the breaths became shorter. What was the point of training? What end goal is there to being a shinobi in the first place? He had been taken from his home, thrown into a cold, unforgiving environment, and basically told to learn or die. As the boy dropped to his knees, carefully controlling his labored breathing, he wondered if there was more to being a ninja than just survival. Surely there had to be some purpose to all this, otherwise he could have stayed with his family and learned to tailor as they had. Paying no attention to his surroundings, he thrust a fist into the ground and uncharacteristically muttered aloud.
"Why... am I... here?" he gasped between breaths. "Why... ninja?" Putting a hand over his rib, Enno stared at the ground as he caught his breath. The scarf around his neck loosened and fell to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust as it settled. Yesterday had been his first class, and he got a taste of what chakra could do. He felt what the shinobi of Kumogakure could do, and what he had been told by several officials as to the expectations placed on him, but little of it made sense overall. Not all were destined to survive the academy. Perhaps this poor soul was one of the damned.
WC: 808, MFT
OOC:
Anyone that feels like indoctrinating a country bumpkin on Kumogakure life and a ninja's duties and options ICly, please do! Looking to give Enno some long-term character development and goals through interaction, so come on in and leave a fresh perspective for a young mind~
Just keep walking, you'll warm up soon enough. The internal monologue played over and over in his head. If anything happened, he was assured medical attention was available at a moment's notice. This was one of a precious few welcome changes from his old life; living in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere generally didn't offer much in the case of an emergency. This benefit, however, did not outweigh the annoyance of constant sound. There was never any quiet amongst the training; even through the middle of the night the sound of metal striking wooden or hay targets could be heard near endlessly. It made for restless sleep. Enno wiped his eyes of crust with the end of the scarf, hoping the cold would subside a bit with the now rising sun.
It had been about a week since he began living in the dormitories of the academy, taken from his parents in exchange for a plot of land and a lifelong contract for supplying goods. His room was small, offering only a bed big enough for a large dog and enough room around it to store a few weapons, sets of clothes, and little else. The paper thin doors and walls meant there was no privacy offered by the space, only a roof to keep things dry and a warm place to rest his head. The only thing that stood out was a plaque on the wall that read "In memory of Hayata Shin, seventh Raikage. Your sacrifices will be remembered." Of course, this meant nothing to someone who didn't even know what a "Raikage" was. It would take some time to get used to his accomodations, but what choice did he have? Adjust and adapt, or stagnate, struggle, and perish.
And so, the shivering form continued his slow march around the training square, breathing heavily and coughing occasionally. It wasn't pleasant, but it would be necessary to prove himself worthy of survival. If there was one thing living impoverished and lonely taught a young child, it was how to survive on nothing. Enno's worst enemy at this point was his asthma; a ninja that can't run for a fair distance is hardly a ninja at all. Not that he had much of an idea as to what a ninja was. As the day warmed, something akin to confidence blossomed forth, and the stubborn child broke into a slow jog around the complex.
This is the only way.
Careful, heavy, controlled breaths. Step, lift, step, lift. He would get more practice with the tools of the trade later. For now, it was time for endurance training. If his lungs stayed that weak, he wouldn't survive a day on the field. Each step felt more pointless as the breaths became shorter. What was the point of training? What end goal is there to being a shinobi in the first place? He had been taken from his home, thrown into a cold, unforgiving environment, and basically told to learn or die. As the boy dropped to his knees, carefully controlling his labored breathing, he wondered if there was more to being a ninja than just survival. Surely there had to be some purpose to all this, otherwise he could have stayed with his family and learned to tailor as they had. Paying no attention to his surroundings, he thrust a fist into the ground and uncharacteristically muttered aloud.
"Why... am I... here?" he gasped between breaths. "Why... ninja?" Putting a hand over his rib, Enno stared at the ground as he caught his breath. The scarf around his neck loosened and fell to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust as it settled. Yesterday had been his first class, and he got a taste of what chakra could do. He felt what the shinobi of Kumogakure could do, and what he had been told by several officials as to the expectations placed on him, but little of it made sense overall. Not all were destined to survive the academy. Perhaps this poor soul was one of the damned.
WC: 808, MFT
OOC:
Anyone that feels like indoctrinating a country bumpkin on Kumogakure life and a ninja's duties and options ICly, please do! Looking to give Enno some long-term character development and goals through interaction, so come on in and leave a fresh perspective for a young mind~
