Leisurely the maidens hand jolts outward to unleash a flurry of shuriken, whizzing through air to collide with a vibrant 'thud' against a practice dummy. Mikasa's gaze settles against four impaling objects, lodged in the same centralized arm region, "Are our tools becoming obsolete?" she ponders aloud prior to rummaging through her attire to retrieve a kunai. Twirling the deadly steel upon her index, the Medical Sennin arcs her arm slicing upwards for the object to hurl forward and sink against the forehead of the poor plank of wood figure.
The platinum mane maiden had not been fortunate enough to participate in the academy, although in this moment she could imagine her younger self training to better herself. In the spirit of a potential alternate reality, the kunoichi inhales gently, "Doton: Sutōnburetto!" a pebble expunges and rockets forward from her lips to pelt against the target. Weaving an additional set of hand seals, a barrage ensues of the same technique, relentlessly bombarding the innocent shinobi training tool. Strolling forward, her digits caress against the unfortunate creation, eying the damage thus far; however it never ceased to amaze her of how durable the academy grounds made these sort of items.
With her back turned to the academy, her digits adjust the shoulder length mane, droplets of prespiration threaten to stick to the rear of her neck. The day in itself wasn't particular hot, but her attire wasn't suited for the outside environment, wearing the formal Sennin attire. Adjusting the crimson bowtie, Mikasa pivots about to resume expelling pebbles against the target to pass the time until the next session she would be teaching. Hopefully, during the down time, she would be able to enjoy a conversation or two, "Where does everyone hide in between classes?" she inquires aloud in an amused tone.
The platinum mane maiden had not been fortunate enough to participate in the academy, although in this moment she could imagine her younger self training to better herself. In the spirit of a potential alternate reality, the kunoichi inhales gently, "Doton: Sutōnburetto!" a pebble expunges and rockets forward from her lips to pelt against the target. Weaving an additional set of hand seals, a barrage ensues of the same technique, relentlessly bombarding the innocent shinobi training tool. Strolling forward, her digits caress against the unfortunate creation, eying the damage thus far; however it never ceased to amaze her of how durable the academy grounds made these sort of items.
With her back turned to the academy, her digits adjust the shoulder length mane, droplets of prespiration threaten to stick to the rear of her neck. The day in itself wasn't particular hot, but her attire wasn't suited for the outside environment, wearing the formal Sennin attire. Adjusting the crimson bowtie, Mikasa pivots about to resume expelling pebbles against the target to pass the time until the next session she would be teaching. Hopefully, during the down time, she would be able to enjoy a conversation or two, "Where does everyone hide in between classes?" she inquires aloud in an amused tone.
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