Name One Hero Who Was HappyJun 2, 2023 22:03:13 GMT -5
Kaguya Toru
"Live or die, just do it well.
groupMist Shinobi
age 16 years old
birthday August 5, 1007
rank Elite Jounin
occupation Mizukage
| I would know him in death At the end of the world |
The winner's name echoed through the arena of mist and fire, met with an equal amount of support and disdain. It had been difficult to determine what had happened in the arena for the fog had clung to it with a vengeance - the fire that Yamori cast the audiences only reprieve. It had been a long, drawn out battle, that pushed both competitors mentally and physically but it had been the girl who had been announced the victor in the end. The announcement made that abundantly clear.
The results coiled themselves like a serpent around Toru's ragged lungs that felt like fire had erupted and blistered them thoroughly, as if he had inhaled ash. The genin was staring at his opponent now through the rolling fog that was dissipating between them like the effervescent smoke of a flame slowly going out. Each inhale burned, dirtied fingers loosely held onto the hilt of his katana, the tip of it touching the frosted ground of the torn up battleground. He might have raised it to use it again, in spite of his fatigue the strength would have come if he could have been given just a little longer to fight this foe. A child of Konohagakure did not deserve to live, it was drilled into him, a whisper at the back of his mind that he should have done his duty.
Alas, there was a time limit and his limbs were failing him more than he would ever dare admit.
Both pairs of feet turned and disappeared into respective bunkers, clearing from the arena so that the organizers could perform a rapid clean-up and repair, but this was not what hung upon Toru's shoulders. What hung upon him, what was clear in the red of his eyes was the resolution of his desire to annihilate. The intent was an aura, a blanket of decision that followed him into the safety of the bunker where he dared to lift his arm to sheathe his blade though it took a great deal of effort to do so.
Toru had never been a muscular youth, and had only recently come across enough food to fill out in a way that had not put him at a disadvantage in comparison to those that had come here with contented bellies. His loss, though bitter upon his tongue, was victory for any who knew his origin and what was possible if one fought hard enough. If only such a victory could be recognized by the scrutiny of Toru's mind that pushed him to such great extents that he would have died trying to kill, if given the chance.
The newly minted Kaguya paused upon the threshold of the bunker as the chute started to shut behind him, he glanced over his shoulder as the light became a silver sliver upon his features, a brush of pale daylight. It was the last glimpse for now, the final moment before he drew calmer breath and moved further into the space. A straight shot down a dim corridor, and a turn left to duck into the locker rooms where a few others from his side were milling around, the majority of the others intently watching their opponents in a room to the right - they only wanted a peek of what they might face in the coming rounds.
Toru desired no such thing, only to rest a weary body that became only more so with each step he took, it echoed in the cement block chambers. The sound of his footfall prickled Toru in a way that would seem impossible to another, and he made every extra effort to dampen them.
Soon he sat on one of the wooden benches in the locker room, it was warm in here from the steam of the showers and his body craved such a soak. He leaned forward, his elbows buried into his thighs just above his knees, each inhale pronounced along the delicate curve of his back. Bloodied, dirtied fingers danced across the face of his skin, wiping at the sweat that had formed like dew along his forehead, dripping down his cheeks, clinging to the white wisps of his hair. He flicked the moisture off of himself, before glancing down idly at his palms.
There, he saw the result of his power and all of his effort and hard work. Palms hardened with callouses, that could only be attributed to the repeated and consistent use of a katana. The pattern was there, it belonged to Toru, and many passionate swordsmen like him. It was the pride of Kirigakure no Sato. But he felt no such pride now, for he had not proven himself best, and once again that venomous beast ruptured through him, his jaw tightening so hard he felt his teeth might break. But they did not, instead he stared at his palms just a while longer.
A puff of air left him, a choice made then that he would use this as a moment to learn, and to become frightfully better until the entire very earth beneath him would tremble. It would never be enough, not until he was could positively show that Kirigakure, and Mizu no Kuni were the best of them all. He shifted, tilting his head back feeling the stretch of his aching muscles there too. He closed his eyes for the first time, just allowing himself to breathe as another fight was announced somewhere in the background and a few boys in the locker room skittered out to go watch the next round.
Once silence spread like his fog in the room, Toru pulled at the top of his winter coat, shifting it off of his body and letting it fall from his torso, he really did want that shower.
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Han
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