[Akira]

"How'd we play this again? Throw the ball, don't get hit?" Hotarubi inquired, as he was 'shooting the shit'

sat behind a field - was an empty space. Normally the Yamakira was used to seeing training dummies or some other features that made it useful for elemental training: but otherwise a gravelled space with a court, a line between them and a couple of balls set on the middle line. This was dodgeball.

His opponent? Zura. They'd gotten on well enough from their last mission that now was an opportunity for them to put into practice what was sometimes referred to as 'relaxation' and when one were ninja, it was 'little and often' - and Hotarubi made sure to be less of a workaholic ecause of how hard he had been working on his other days.

Those days: were filled, and because he was made of earth: meant that the days and nights tended to blend together. Working with the administration on ... matters. Hotarubi was making decisions: or at least, learning how to think about someone who made decisions. Commander training, was what Hotarubi rationalised it as. If the seat of Takigakure opened and it was Kenji, Hotarubi knew he would be the second in. At least. But his father, he hoped he would be able to get rid of the man before that.

What he had learned, and would not have mentioned to Zura was that Ryu had not been seen in the last two weeks. Disappeared: gone. And that was bearing bad news. "I'll only have a few games - and I'm heading out to Iwagakure tomorrow, so till then."

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[Oborozuki Zura]

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"Are you sure you don’t want one?” Zura inquired, his voice laced with a playful taunt as he popped open a frosty can of beer. The beverage’s hoppiness wasn’t exactly to his palate’s preference, but he was hardly one to grumble over a chilled refreshment amidst some friendly competition. [break][break]

Bare-chested and ready for action, Zura was all set to work up a sweat. It had been an unexpected delight when Hotarubi invited him for a round of dodgeball. He wasn’t one to give up an opportunity to pelt another man with rubber balls. They had meshed well during their mission, but Hotarubi didn’t exactly strike him as the type to revel in light-hearted games as much as Zura did. To him, dodgeball was the quintessential game – a perfect blend of chaos, fun, and mischief. And unbeknownst to Hotarubi, he was on the verge of a comical reckoning, courtesy of a rubber ball.[break][break]

"Yeah, simple enough.” Zura began, explaining the game with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You hurl the ball, you dodge the ball. The sole rule – don’t cross that line.” He gestured towards a crude line that he had scrawled in the dirt with a stick. True to his nature, Zura believe in playing dodgeball with a twist of roguishness, where minimal rules meant maximum fun. He planned to exploit every sly tactic in his arsenal – be it aiming for the face, the groin, or anything else he could imagine. Though Hotarubi was literally made of dirt, Zura pondered whether he was even capable of feeling pain.[break][break]


"Victor gets another beer!” Zura declared, casting a glance back at the duo of beer cases chilling on ice – not that they were likely to exhaust their supply.[break][break]
"So, what’s the plan in that stony wasteland?” He propped with an inquisitive tone. Zura wasn’t usually one for politics, but he had a soft spot for juicy tidbits of gossip.

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[Akira]

"I'm good for now," The Chunin exams had been too much of an event for him recently to want to drink again even if it were casually however good or bad it felt. Hotarubi himself stripped out of his shirt as well (because who would he be, if he were to shy away from a challenge?) - unlike Zura's body, his was just more brown and granular, creating odd patterns of dirt and rock.

But it seemed a simple enough game, even though Hotarubi had offered Zura out at the time, he had no idea what it was beyond something someone else had said at one point. "I can play for that." Hotarubi grinned.

"I can't say, Zura." Hotarubi was already thinking about work again which was not helpful to him. "I'm doing it for our Jōnin Hanchō." And for himself, his inside voice reminded him.

"Now come. Face thirst in beer form." Hotarubi would point at him to the equivalent of a comic villain. Projectiles were all that Doton ninjutsu were really - something to hit someone else with and what wasn't a projectile? It either hit/worked on someone, or it didn't.

That was what a projectile was, right?

And so, Hotarubi was more than happy to get started. Full of force, he would pelt it toward the man's torso: biggest space and all that. Unfortunately, it wasn't Doton and so he was throwing it no better than a Kunai would be thrown. It was otherwise known as a 'level playing field.'

"What's going on with your life, then?" Hotarubi would ask. Was that too personal a question for someone he'd met few times? But - it was also to quell the other set of stuff, to avoid having to talk about the future right now.

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[Oborozuki Zura]

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Zura, with a dodgeball in each hand and a confident swagged, watched Hotarubi gear up for the throw. He bounced one ball lightly, with a challenging smirk. There was no way Hotarubi would land a single shot. Evading dodgeballs was akin to dodging life’s many responsibilities – something he had turned into an art form. [break][break]

As Hotarubi launched the ball, Zura’s reflexes kicked in. He twisted out of the way with a dancer’s grace, using the momentum of the spin to hurl one of his own balls back. The first throw was a bit rough, but swift. The second, however, was a masterpiece of precision, aimed just where he predicted Hotarubi would dodge. Ideally square in the man’s pretty jaw.[break][break]

"Not much, really,” Zura casually remarked as he leaped back to reclaim the ball Hotarubi had thrown. He took a gulp of his beer, the cool liquid perfect as the game began heating up. Zura lived a laid-back life by design. His parents, blissfully unaware of how much of his duties he actually skirted, continued their financial support, and Zura wasn’t one to argue. He did just enough to keep up appearances – the bare minimum was his goal. "I keep it pretty lax to be honest.”[break][break]

Being a shinobi had its moments of thrill, and Zura couldn’t deny the rush it brought – it fed into his self-image as a sort of nonchalant hero. But most of the time, he found the whole affair overly superfluous, preferring the simplicity of moments like these.[break][break]


"It’s refreshing to see you’re not as stiff as you look,” Zura teased, his grin mischievous, as he sized up Hotarubi for another round. This was his kind of battlefield – unpredictable, lively and far from the serious world of shinobi duties.[break][break]

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[Akira]

Not much, really.

That was something Hotarubi really felt - their days and weeks blended together with the monotony of training, because without something to grind against it didn't really feel like achieving. Nothing to compare against. But then there were the other things in life he was trying to enjoy (hence the attempt at dodgeball).

There was the sordid reminder of his own rank against Zura's as the ball left his hand. Different priorities. But this was not shinobi time. Zura quickly pivoted out of one way and darted back in using their opposite hand to attack. A good attack. Hotarubi began to lean back on the ball of his feet but he had been focused on trying to catch rather than dodge, and was caught there with his hands ajar.

Hota was taking a point of not using chakra or manoeuvring his form and so would be hit in his jaw, to which there was the flare of his nose. Even if it was a game he didn't like to lose. But he would try to play it off. "Agh.... Yeah. Good shot." He would rub at the point of contact as the ball bounced and he would swipe at the floor to snatch it before its fourth bounce.

"Our clan has a rep of being stubborn but we're the most flexible... not limited." Hotarubi would smile in what was one of the few topics he knew he would be happy about and that was about his proudness of the Yamakira and their body. It would be Zura's turn to play now: and he would be light on his feet as he bounced from the tips of his feet, not putting his heels to the floor.

Ready.

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[Oborozuki Zura]

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Zura’s raucous cheer cut through the air as his dodgeball smacked Hotarubi square in the jaw. "Got’cha!” He crowed, dripping with triumph. [break][break]



Tossing back another gulp of his beer, he sized up Hotarubi, shirtless and ready for more dodgeball action. Hotarubi bounced on the balls of his feet, braced to dodge whatever Zura threw his way. Zura took a moment to appreciate the view, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the sun casting shadows over Hotarubi's physique, before grabbing another dodgeball. [break][break]





He held the ball in his hand, an exaggerated look of contemplation on his face as he pretended to deliberate his next move. Zura's eyes playfully scanned Hotarubi's body, calculating his targets like a predator sizing up his prey. Imaginary numbers hovered above each part, where could he score the highest points? A devious smirk tugged at his lips, imagining the satisfying thud of the ball against Hotarubi’s chest. [break][break]





Without any grandiose gestures, Zura launched the ball, aiming for Hotarubi's midsection. This time, he kept it low-key, hoping to lull his opponent into a false sense of security before pulling off a flashy move when Hotarubi least expected it. [break][break]





"Make sure to dodge, ok?” Zura taunted, the ball hurtling through the air like a bullet. He couldn't help but wonder if he could push Hotarubi's buttons, or if the man had an infinite reserve of patience for Zura.

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[Akira]

Hotarubi throw a hand out- 'pshz.' It was nothing. A short lived victory. The view was not lost on Hotarubi: Zura was clever, sizing him up appropriately just how he was doing the same. Hotarubi thought going for centre mass would be appropriate: highest chance of a hit. But the man could twist - just had to be better. Single digit thoughts entered his mind, trying to seek the most likely way to win.

It had been a while that Hotarubi felt competitiveness or a potential rival forming. Not that it was the same, Hotarubi was nearly a Jonin and Zura was just a Genin: but in the ways of dodgeball? Yeah. That could count. It did appear that the man was aiming for the same targets. "Good eye," Hotarubi would do what he anticipated Zura would, which was twist and let the ball fly by his chest and then bounce, hitting against the boundary of their court.

"Was that good enough?" Hotarubi would ask - kicking the ball with his foot and then flicking it up into his hand, which he would take a few confident steps and the ball would swap from his right hand to his left as he remained side on to Zura, but rather than trying to take a 'smart' shot - the man would wind it around his back so that it would fly around, aiming roughly for Zura's hip section.. but it hadn't exactly been a shot of finesse and he was no 'kunai-projectile' kind of mna.

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"Better," Zura chuckled as Hotarubi smoothly evaded his oncoming dodgeball. If those balls had been sharper, Zura was certain Hotarubi would have been a contortionist by now. A few rubbery bruises never hurt anyone too much. Standing at the ready, Zura awaited whatever Hotarubi had up his sleeves with a sparkle of anticipation. [break][break]

With a flourish, Hotarubi sent a ball hurtling toward Zura with pinpoint accuracy towards his hips. Zura bided his time until the last possible moment before springing upward, in a burst of agility, his knees rising high as the ball whizzed beneath him. "You're gonna have to up your game," Zura added with a wink. [break][break]

Regaining his stance, Zura snatched up the ball that had just sailed past him. Feeling a bit fancy, he surveyed the court, contemplating his next move. Dribbling the ball thoughtfully, he pondered his options. With a mischievous glint, he whipped the ball past Hotarubi in a calculated arc, aiming just so–it would either ricochet back and slam him in the back of the head or leave Zura looking like a fool. [break][break]

Ignoring Hotarubi’s earlier refusal, Zura tossed him a beer. "Damn me if I’m drinking alone,” he laughed.

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[Akira]

"Hah," The Special Jonin chortled.

"Just let me know when you're ready for more, Genin," Hotarubi chided - but it was not spoken in the way he would have on a mission or to Yuri and Midori, it was cheerful. It was smart - Hotarubi bounced from foot to foot. Using a small boon was that he didn't need to look when the ball bounced to know for him to drop his chin to his chest and let it sail over him. And as he did he swiftly seemed to rotate around the object in its orbit as he picked it mid flight, jumped and threw it back.

But, he fumbled on account of Zura's secondary throw and it would slip from his fingers and it would sail right past his body and with a tap as he hit the ground the man caught the beer. Being a shinobi meant having to always moderate your own abilities: frankly, he had to hold a soft grip. One accidental 'grippy' would pop the ball.

Hotarubi sighed - wasn't about to let a beer go un-caught. Soft features would stare at the brightly colored can, dipped in condensation - it was the humidity of the jungle. Hotarubi shook his head, smiling. "Fine." One 'tssssss' later, and the beer was open and being sipped at by him.

Sour - tangy - bitter - the man would not make a face at it, but it wasn't the most pleasant thing to drink. Wasn't the worst (stouts: disgusting.) "Come at me bro," Hotarubi slapped his own chest (after tactfully putting the beer down at the side of the court and out of the way of their shenanigans.)

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Zurawas impressed by Hotarubi’s magical reflexes, his jaw practically hitting the floor. He barely shifted his head, dodging the rogue dodgeball with what seemed like a sixth sense. Clearly, Zura needed to up his game if he wanted to catch Hotarubi off-guard.[break[break]

However, the sight of Hotarubi’s dive to save his beer from a tragic fate served as a delightful consolation. Zura couldn’t help but laugh at the scene. The dedication to not wasting a good brew was commendable, even though Zura secretly wished for a beer-drenched Hotarubi.[break[break]

With a crack of the beer can, Hotarubi obliged, and Zura was all for pushing him towards a tipsy state. His attempts at subtlety hadn’t been cutting it, clearly. Hotarubi's own tantalizing challenge saw Zura slamming down his own before gearing up for another round of rubber warfare.[break[break]

"Only because you asked so nicely,” Zura flashed a cheeky wink, now maneuvering two balls with a mischievous grin. He wasn’t about to waste time putting on a show of strategizing this time; he would act fast instead. With a flourished twist, he sent one ball hurtling towards Hotarubi’s midriff, while the other was aimed low, bouncing off the ground in a sneaky attempt to clip him under the chin.

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