[Miyamoto Ikana]

"I assume everyone's a superior opponent." She said clearly. It was evident that Ikana didn't believe in the idea that she was anyone's greater. For most of her time in the academy, she had nothing but the basics. Always jealous at the children that had Shinobi parents, or came from a clan. They were often better than her in every way. While she did seek the aid of her instructors, that could be limited at times. She couldn't have them at any time of the day, and they had their own time and priorities. They had other students to teach. So Ikana for a long while was better than no one. Not while she had only herself to rely on for her training and advancement.

She thought about Sora's words. Before slowly looking down to her chest. "Pain is a great teacher, and every hurt is a lesson. Besides...People have hit me harder before." She closed her eyes in a lighthearted curl upwards of a grin. Slowly offering to patch Sora's small cuts here and there. Though. She stopped when a hand was ruffled through her head. Her hair. She remembered Ikari in these moments. As she slowly slides up Sora's sleeves to begin wrapping the smaller wounds with a twirl of her wrapping. It made her reflect on her past, and honestly? She didn't know if she could.

Not now. "I'll be expanding my technique repertoire soon. As much as I can. If you'd continue to help me with my training from this point forward? I'd be grateful."

[Sora Minami]

"Ikana.” Sora said as the girl began wrapping her arms, not quite able to reach the top most cuts but trying nonetheless, so she knelt, getting down to eye level with the Genin. It was always easier to connect with someone you could look in the eyes- and it was far, far easier to look Ikana in the eyes when the girl wasn’t craning her neck halfway to her spine just to talk to her. "In case you hadn’t noticed. You just made a Jounin bleed.”

True, she had been holding back, but still. She would have beaten most Chuunin into mincemeat with that last combination, if not outright killed them, and even a Jounin would’ve found it difficult to keep fighting after that kind of damage if they were of the wrong specialization. Never mind that she had burned up a little less than half of her chakra in the brief exchange.

"You are… actually incredible for your age and experience. And I won’t hear another word otherwise.” She said, smiling at the girl even as she put a little steel into her voice. She could understand analyzing your own weaknesses, pointing out mistakes and doing your best to fix them, but not this. "You gain nothing by cutting yourself down. Nothing. Do you understand? And don’t think you’re getting off from visiting the medics with that nonsense either. Cracked ribs are not something to play with.”

[Miyamoto Ikana]

"Blood is a sign of devotion." She said, and with it, she slowly looked upon the cuts that just gave small bits of blood soaked in gauze. "You only bled because you let me cut you." Ikana was no fool. She'd known from experience that there were plenty of people her own level that were exceptionally greater than she. Though. She did pause when she was told she was exceptional. For her age and experience. That made her wonder. Wonder how she was supposed to feel. She internally felt a bit of pride in those words. Especially since Ikana herself knew she was getting stronger all the time.

Because Ikana herself had hidden a lot. Because she was wary of the information people might use against her. She knew that when she became Chunin, she'd be able to show off so much more, but also learn so much more in tandem. That was an exciting thought. Mainly because Ikana always sought to advance beyond her natural limit. To become worth as much as possible so that she might be loved and adored by the village. There was once a point in the past where Ikana's dream was to reach the rank of Chunin. To have a comfortable mediocre life and paycheck. To have a stable life. That was enough for her back then. Ikana had already accomplished most of that now.

However, it felt like she was beyond that. She slowly found herself confronted with the knowledge then. That she gained nothing from cutting herself down. Until she spoke then. "But I have. Because by doing so, when I get cut down by someone else. It won't hurt me." Slowly beginning to alternate to the other arm. "I've become hardened. Stronger because I've hurt myself more than anyone else could. Don't you see? I live the way I do, the service I do, because I don't want to be a burden to anyone. Because I've been tossed aside and abandoned because my convenience was gone."

"I'd do anything and everything. Regardless if I'm loved or not. Because...I don't want to be alone. It's why I h- couldn't kill myself. Because I was afraid of what would come next. Because I would be alone." At this point. She couldn't look Sora in the eyes. She felt as if she did, she might see disgust. Disdain. Or an exasperation. She didn't like to talk to anyone about her feelings, because when she did, they were disheartened and at times left her because of it. She'd only done it briefly with Taru, because Taru was a calm, mysterious, and oddly free spirited soul.

"I've...Always been alone, but I'll be anything. I'll break everything about myself. I'll..." She couldn't speak any further. Because she didn't think Sora could understand what she was feeling. What she'd say next. Rubbing her face with her hand, she felt another internal sense of dread. Worse than the feeling in her ribs. "I guess I want my life to just be valuable to others. What little it's worth to them. Because to me? It's worthless."

[Sora Minami]

"That’s not the point, Ikana.” Sora said, not letting the Genin off the hook. She understood where the girl was coming from, truly, but she also knew where that kind of thinking led. What it did to a soul, once it took root. It had already taken hold of the brunette, but not fully. Not enough to where she couldn’t reach her. She believed that. She had to believe it. If only for her own sanity. "You’re good at this. And that’s something you can take pride in.”

She smiled at the girl, a true, genuine thing, bright and soft and kind, the kind she so rarely gave in the days after her team’s death, after the civil war, after the sanbi attack and her own near breakdown. The kind of smile that hurt, just a little, when she thought about it all- and somehow, that made it all the more valuable for the pain. So when Ikana at last opened up, when the floodgates broke and the girl spewed out all her thoughts, her feelings, the worthlessness that she felt inside? Sora didn’t let it fall. It faded, yes, growing more subdued, but it didn’t break.

"I understand, Ikana.” She took a breath, still smiling, as she put her hand back on the girl’s head, gently. She seemed to enjoy that. "I know what it's like to be alone. To have nothing and no one and watch as the world just… keeps on going. Uncaring and cold. I’ve walked that road. I know where it leads. And there is no peace. There is nothing there. Just pain. Sadness. Anger. And loneliness.”

Sora paused, her gaze growing misty at the memories that flooded her mind; the civilians she killed. The children. The blood, staining her soul. She let the pain show- but didn’t stop smiling.

"I asked you a question the other day. About what makes a sword strong. Your answer was good, but it wasn’t what I was looking for. I wanted you to figure it out on your own, but…” There was time and place for everything. Perhaps, in another life, Ikana would have the chance to work through the thoughts on her own. But not this time. Not now.

"A sword, Ikana, is forged from two hunks of metal that most would deem useless. But the smith sees their potential, and so takes them to the kiln. He heats the first, beating the metal into shape. Burning the impurities away. Folding it, over and over, until it grows hard.” She paused then, bringing her hands close together, one finger held up in demonstration.

"Then, he takes the second piece, and does the same. But the second piece is softer. Flexible. It bends, unlike the first. And when the two are ready, the smith takes them… and forges them into one.” She brought her fingers together then, wrapping them around each other and tugging. Just so she could see. "When he is done with them, the pair are inseparable. There is no trace of them ever being different pieces, save one. The hamon. The soul line, where flexibility meets rigidity. Hardness meets softness. Life meets death.”

"That is what makes a sword strong. Not blood. Not metal. Not fear. The smith is what makes it strong. The hammer blows. The fire. The folding. The joining. All of it is a process. A means to an end. A way to make something beautiful out of what many would consider worthless. What, perhaps, even considers itself worthless.” Another pause, to breathe, but this time there is no smile. Only the ghost of it. And patience.

"Do you understand?”

[Miyamoto Ikana]

Pride was a dangerous thing. It really was. The next few moments came with Sora saying that she understood. What it meant to be alone, have nothing, and no one, and the world just kind of kept on going without you. That much Ikana, could feel was true. Different levels, but same experiences. That really was Ikana kind of felt. That there wasn't true peace. Maybe a faux peace, but it wasn't real. Pain. Sadness. Anger. Loneliness. All of those things were feelings Ikana was intimate with. She reflected upon herself, and when Sora spoke? Ikana felt ashamed. Her cheeks flushed as she thought back to her selfishness. Because who was she to speak about her feelings? To hand them out to someone and claim her life was hard? She felt wrong.

Though. The metaphor she gave about what made a strong sword seemed to be pretty interesting. A long analogy until she got to the point. The smith. That everything was a process to make it strong, but ultimately, it seemed to be the perseverate and flexibility. To hammer and mold what was given in the process to make it so. So. That said? Ikana had to wonder. Was she the smith? Or was she the sword? She found herself slowly thinking on it. If she understood. If Ikana could grasp that concept. She found out that basically, Sora was telling her that she could make herself strong.

"I don't think I get it entirely. Or I do, but it's too hard for me to digest. But that doesn't mean I won't figure it out. I'm a slow learner. I am. But I do learn." She took deep breaths. Trying to feel if everything felt in place. Until she felt a slight crackle sensation as her chest rose. That didn't sound right. As it cut her breath short and she lowered her head. Self worth was what Sora seemed to want to grant to this young girl. However, if people didn't give value onto her? How was she supposed to confidently look and say she was worth anything? It seemed complicated.

"I need a doctor...I think. I think it's poking into something it's not supposed to." She says with some slight discomfort.

[Sora Minami]

Sora smiled at Ikana’s thoughtfulness, resting her hand atop the girl’s head once more, waiting. She had a brain behind that dour attitude, and she was certain the girl would figure out what she meant, eventually. It wasn't something you could grasp in an instant, or explain fully in words- it was deeper than that, reaching to something fundamental about life, about existence and one’s place in it. Even she didn’t fully know what it all meant, only that it was a way. A chance. A path out of the chaos, and towards something better.

"It’s alright, Ikana.” She said when the girl was done, ruffling her hair again. "I don’t expect you to puzzle it all out in a few minutes. Just… think on it.” And with that, the Jounin leaned forward, sliding one arm behind her student’s legs in order to lift her up in a gentle, firm carry. There were medic-nin on standby near every training ground, so they didn’t have to go far, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Broken ribs could puncture a lung, after all.

"I know. I felt the snap when Samidare hit you.” Ikana wouldn’t have to worry though. She’d get her there without any more injuries. Of that, Sora was certain. "I gotcha.”

[Miyamoto Ikana]

It felt odd. To be carried in this manner. To have her hair ruffled like this. For a moment, she wanted to reach out and hold Sora's hand there. So that she could continue to feel the comfort of their palm. However, there wasn't any time to really contemplate that. She was lifted and carried, like how an older sibling might carry a younger one. That was a very calming experience there. Ikana was pretty used to feeling like everything and everyone was against her. However, in instances like this, she could be caught off guard. Same as anyone. So, she let herself get carried.

"...I think a lot. Some people would say a lot more than I should." After all. It was a lot to digest wasn't it? With her mind drifting to the lessons and the thoughts imparted on her, it was difficult to not see the world from a dark and cynical light. However, it didn't mean she enjoyed thinking of it that way. Was there a chance? She found herself musing on that, realizing that perhaps the world wasn't so black and white. Not as much as she thought of it anyways. However, that was a matter for another day. As Ikana came to question what made a sword strong.

[Sora Minami]

Sora carried Ikana and listened. The girl spoke softly, saying little, but her words held much meaning in them, if she was willing to dig a little. Thinking too much was a common problem among Shinobi, far more than most would think given how martial most villages were even in times of relative peace. But that was because Shinobi were, to the surprise of many, still people at the end of the day, and the problem with people, she had found, was they tended to make things infinitely more complicated than they actually were.

"Sometimes, Ikana…" The Jounin said as she strolled out through the wreckage she had caused to the training ground, noting the various Chuunin who were already rushing in to put out the fires her Samidaregiri had caused. Perhaps she had gone a bit overboard with that one. It was an A ranked technique, after all.

"Sometimes, the simplest answer is the right one."

fin

Miyamoto Ikana