[Uchiha Izusa]

in pale moonlight

---

A gentle breeze blew through the Academy's training grounds.

Cool. Steady. Balm for an early summer's heat. For the past hour or so a  young man had been busy at work rigging together an intricate system of Ninja Wire and Launchers. An instructor. Who knew these tools well. Typically they were used in lessons. To test Konohagakure's aspiring shinobi or impart lessons on shurikenjutsu. Avoidance.

Tonight... they would serve a different purpose altogether. Atypical of many Uchiha who were blessed with their clan's famed dōjutsu, this one preferred not to rely on it. Resorting to its use only when absolutely necessary.

Many coveted eyes such as these. More importantly, those who relied on them too heavily could grow overconfident.

Lax. Sure that their enhanced perception could overcome any obstacle thrown their way. From personal experience he knew this to not be true. Plenty of times had he found himself unable to react to a threat despite his true sight.

Because after all... what good were eyes that could see if the body could not move in time with them? To this end, he constructed a plan. Compensation for his own body's inability to move. Train. Force himself to adapt. Or else fall.

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[Uchiha Izusa]

the wisteria's scent

---

Time went on, the clouds high above Konohagakure no Sato parting to reveal a waning crescent.

Bathing the village in pale moonlight. No one else seemed to near. Or if they were, he hadn't seen them. In truth he didn't mind practicing in front of others. Though there was something to be said for privacy.

Pulling on a taut wire, he nodded in approval. "All set." Preparations were complete. It took longer than he expected, but there was reason for it. Dozens of launchers, all loaded with shuriken, kunai, and senbon. He must've used every Ninja Tool he had in his possession to set this up. While lessons might be done with blunted projectiles...

...these were all sharp. Razors waiting to slice into anyone unlucky enough to get in their path. Added motivation for him to focus up. And ensure that he took this all seriously. The system had three phases. Staged to spring separately.

All it would take is the cutting of a wire. Part of him hesitated, realizing that he'd rather be doing anything else at the moment. But after some thought he readied himself. Coming to terms with the fact that this was necessary.

Reaching for his wakizashi, he slowly drew the small blade from its saya. He took a deep breath...

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

comes from far away

---

A single swing.

Severing the wire in twain and triggering the intricate projectile system. Stars. Knives. Needles. All whizzed through the air at different intervals. Set to launch at odd timings to better imitate actual battle. The chūnin glared.

Dark eyes moving back and forth to account for their trajectories. Wielding only his wakizashi, his arm moved. A few shuriken deflected without much trouble. Sounds of metal on metal echoed throughout the area as he did his best to stay on the move. Weaving and blocking to the absolute best of his ability. Fortunately, this was the easy part.

Each phase was readied in stages of difficulty. This first was little more than a warmup. While still too much to handle for the average genin, it was perfectly suited to one of his skill. And such, he proceeded with little trouble.

Senbon were always the hardest to counter due to their pinpoint accuracy and small size. Thankfully, the moonlight caught them and made their glints easier to see. More than likely saving him from gaining a few new holes towards the end of it all. "Ten." He thought, swinging his blade to swat away two more shuriken. "Twelve." Not bad.

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

bright, the near-full moon

---

Not good enough, though. As a final clang sounded out he flicked his blade. Staring around the dirt patch.

A dozen projectiles, all scattered about. Some lodged into the ground, others lying loose. The young man's breathing had picked up its pace. Now that the first phase was finished? It was time for the real thing to begin. Eyes narrowed...

...and another wire was cut. Instantly, the difference was noticeable. Volume, speed, erratic rhythym. Though experienced in the art of combat, even he had a hard time keeping up. Wakizashi little more than a blur as his arm spun to fend off the onslaught of ninja tools. "Not enough..." He thought as a kunai sliced through one of his sleeves.

Only narrowly avoiding his skin. "Not enough!" Reaching outward, the Uchiha snagged a stray knife out of the air, spinning his body to deflect three oncoming senbon with the knife. "I need to be faster." Another near hit.

Left shoulder this time. At this rate he was going to be wearing rags by the exercise's end.

Arm working up to speed, he unleashed a Chikawaga. Making sure to stay on the move as his sword spun. Whirring like a storm of steel, he allowed instinct to guide his feet. Doing his best to avoid the discarded Ninja Tools.

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

craters loom like gray flowers

---

Normally, such offensives were reserved for actual swordfights. But he needed the technique's speed. Its coverage.

Sweat dripped from his brow as the Uchiha's eyes darted back and forth. Kunai. Feet. Shuriken. Ground. Too much to keep track of. "Twenty-two..." The thought echoed in his head as he shuffled backwards. "Thirty!" More.

Blades continued to dance. Tilting his head, a needle bit into his left cheek and flew through his hair.

Shallowly, but just enough to draw blood. Gritting his teeth, a hint of irritation bubbled up within him. Then... a dull throb behind his eyes. "Is this the best I can do?" Half of his vision seemed to morph. Color becoming vibrant.

It was dark out... but he could see. Suddenly, the tools slowed midair. Trajectories, positions— all becoming clear to his sight. Knowing when and where a missile would strike was helpful. Yet it was still up to his body to make use of that information. To react. To move. Arm burning from constant motion, he pressed on. Parrying as best he could.

Once he nearly stepped on a spent shuriken, cursing himself internally as he ducked and leapt out of the way. Now his breathing had grown heavy. Second phase drawing to a close as he stabbed the kunai through a shuriken's center.

Spinning the small metal star on the knife's tip before flicking it hastily aside. He caught his reflection in his blade...

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

listen: crickets call

---

One eye was glowing red. His Sharingan. Single tomoe revolving as he glared. "Still happens..."

The thought crossed his mind. Cursing his lack of control. Not only was his dōjutsu far from mature, but his right eye tended to activate when his emotions ran high. In this case? Anger at his own limits. The Uchiha took a breath...

Crimson bleeding to life in his other eye as he willed it. "No use in getting worked up about it now." There was still an exercise to complete. And with how difficult the second phase had been... he was more than likely going to need his visual prowess to get through the last. "Let's try not to get skewered..." A sole thought as he re=centered himself.

Gripping his wakizashi tightly he glanced around. Half a hundred Ninja Tools now littering the training grounds. Not only would he have to face an insurmountable barrage of projectiles now, but he had to mind his footwork.

Otherwise... "I'd be the most foolish Uchiha who ever lived." Surely. 'Killed in the line of training.' Joke for the ages.

Before anything else, he needed to refocus. Make sure he was limber and had a sense for where everything was coming from. After all, he had set this death trap up. So, deciding to rely on his brain... he took a beat. To prepare.

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

the moon glows the same

---

Space to move. Knowledge of where the attacks come from. Visual prowess.

All of the pieces to the puzzle were in his hands. It would just take some time for him to put them together. Now, there wasn't any room for mistakes. One false step, one turn too late... and he was done for. Reckless, he was not.

To that end, he walked the dirt patch. Practicing the motions before he began the real deal. A shuffle here, a step-back there— all with the aim of readying himself. Envisioning the upcoming dance he twirled his wakizashi. Wrist loose so that it moved without impediment. No simple Chikawaga would save him this time. He needed more.

Needed to be easy. Free-flowing. Like a leaf on a breeze. As he moved, he took into account the positioning of the launchers. Angles, timing, his location relative to them all. It was a lot to consider. Too much, almost. But...

That was the point. To emulate the frantic nature of facing down an enemy force. For a moment he thought of Satoji.

A friend... brought down by a hail of arrows in their youth. Of course they were only genin at the time. But if he had been faster? Able to react? Maybe he could have saved the boy. Spared him an agonizing end. Brought him home.

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

it is the drifting cloud forms

---

Perhaps... but there was no changing the past. Now the best he could hope for was improvement.

To impart the knowledge he'd gained over the years unto the village's youth. So that they might avoid similar hardships. It would benefit him as well. Now a chūnin, he was no longer on a squad. But he had seen enough.

Friends dying. Comrades losing their nerve, or will to live. "I have to do what I can." He thought. To prevent that from happening again. He was no fool. Knew that death and loss was a part of the job. No one shinobi could save everyone. But... "If I can save one..." Just one. Stop a peer from meeting their end. Cut down a foe before they attack.

Well... to him, that would be worth it. Any pain he might have to bear. Blood. Sweat. Tears. Fuel for his desire to improve. As an instructor, his duties did not usually include battle. Though the other role he served, the darker one...

Danger was a very real, very present reality. Combat. High-intensity, maximum stress situations. A single second could mean the difference between life or death. An assignment's success or disaster. He aimed to find that second.

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

make it seem to change

---

To master it. Before it had the chance to result in his downfall.

Hand tightening around his wakizashi's hilt, he took a deep breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth. His free hand moved to his obi, carefully sliding his katana out— sheath and all, to set aside. No impediments.

Not for this last stage. Leaning the blade carefully against a practice dummy, he unwrapped his scarf next. Draping it over top. So far he had managed to get away with a torn yukata and a few nicks. Even if he was successful this last go-round he expected worse. The sheer volume of projectiles was too high. Steeling himself, he moved to the center.

Standing for a moment to observe. His eyes took in everything one last time. Mentally checking off each launcher in succession. Only one wire remained. Straining against the weight of the trigger mechanism. The Uchiha glared.

It was time to see exactly what he was capable of. Slowly, his arm raised. Breeze wafting over his form as he prepared for what was to come. Somewhere above, a single leaf was shaken loose. Gently drifting downwards. Dancing in air.

It touched the ground. Blade slicing through the wire at the same time.

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

hiding behind clouds

---

And so it began. Faced with a hailstorm of shuriken, kunai, and senbon, any choice in the matter was forgone. Move or be riddled with holes. React or suffer the painful consequences. Live... or die.

Methodology aside, this was a fairly extreme measure. For simple training especially. But to the Uchiha? It seemed necessary. There were no other options that could move him towards his goal. Just as there had been no cause for him to refuse his true assignment in Root. Anything less than what was expected would end in disappointment.

For him, his village... and his family. Wasting no time at all his red eyes danced. Tomoe spinning circles around his irises as his hands and feet moved in tandem. Dodge. Step. Deflect. Parry. Over and over. No room for error.

Only small windows available to reposition. As expected, basic movements were not enough.

Speed had never been his strong suit... something this lesson made him realize he needed to consider. True to form, his arm moved in a familiar rhythm. Not the Chikawaga, but its sister technique. More fierce. The Kazowaga.

Defensive and offensive. Serving his purpose of deflection well enough. He spun as he swung, blade becoming little more than a glint in the moonlight as he twirled it. Swatting away many projectiles in the process.

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

gentle moon lights the way home

---

Not long after he had begun... a problem occurred. Causing him to lose one advantage.

Clouds. Passing over the half-moon. The metal of the weapons no longer shone. "See..." He squinted. Tomoe of his Sharingan speeding up their endless revolutions. "I have to see!" Flaws in his perception meant debilitating injury...

...or worse. It was not a matter of could. But would. For as long as humanly possible, he maintained his wall of swift slashes. Until his arm felt like it would pop out of socket. The constant clanging of metal on metal sounded like a battle all of its own. Not just one clash, but many. Iron on steel. Blade on blade. A desperate struggle to suceed.

Eventually he could not keep up his defense, his arm spent. Sweat poured from his brow. Breathing ragged as his eyes continued to move. It was up to his legs now. Matching his tempo with the launches, he stepped forward.

Back, sideways, forwards again. A dance all of its own. He may not have been able to parry every single missile, but he could do his best to dodge. Mitigate the damage as much as possible. Until the onslaught was over.

---

[Uchiha Izusa]

silver starlit road

---

Senbon struck his arm. Thigh. Still he moved. A shuriken lodged itself in his back. He only stumbled.

Determination kept him going. Or perhaps just stubbornness. Though he was no longer as fresh as when he started  his vision was adjusting. Taking in the oncoming threats and feeding information to his feet. It was not perfect.

Barely even noticeable... but it was something. Enough to allow him to whether the worst of the steel's storm. Dull thuds sounded out all around him as projectiles lodged themselves in the dirt. Shifting as his sandals drew waves on the ground. Sliding, leaping— whatever he needed to do to move out of harm's way. To avoid. To respond.

It was some time still before there was any sort of relenting in the launchers. A hundred, maybe hundreds of tools missing their mark. Mostly. By exercise's end, the Uchiha had fallen to one knee. Weight supported by his blade.

Stabbed into the dirt beneath. Heart racing. Full of needles, shuriken, and a few kunai to boot. More or less a human pincushion... but nothing vital had been hit. At least from what he could tell. His lungs burned. Body ached. And he was bleeding in a dozen different places. Yet he was alive. Sharingan still blazing bright red in the night.

Above, the clouds passed. Shining moonlight over the training grounds yet again. Countless glimmers lit up the area.

Too many Ninja Tools to count scattered chaotically about. And him in the midst of them all. It was getting late now... and he had a lot to clean up. Most of all himself. For a time he kneeled there. Eyes eventually fading to dark.

 Not the performance he had hoped for... but a small improvement. A honing. There was work to do yet.

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