[Hōzuki Keneō]

To say that taking a day out of his busy routine of training, training and more training was by itself a rather unique phenomenon was sort of an understatement when it came to the life of Ken. Starting when he enrolled into the Academy and finishing long after he graduated, he had been working incredibly hard to refine the clan's ninjutsu into something he could call his own. He had never been the kind of person that would just sit around a scroll all day until he had learned to utilize or even master something someone else had created before he had even been conceived, only to then leave it at that and move on to the next subject.

During his time as an Academy student, he had already begun studying the hidden mist technique, among other things. It had been perhaps the mist interesting technique he knew about that almost every single shinobi within Kirigakure possessed within their own arsenal of ninjutsu. It was a staple in Kirigakure culture, as well as the one technique that was feared by those who opposed the village and wished to do harm upon it. To see and feel the mist setting in out of nowhere, to experience how one's vision became obscured before one began seeing the faint shadows that might indicate movement in the distance, right before the shock of cold steel pressed against their throat marked the end of their life.

The more he thought about it, the more the boy believed that out of all of the things he knew about in the ninja world, Kirigakure's Hunter Nin were likely among the most feared group of people that existed within it. As such, to try and invade the village seemed to him like inviting one's own death, which made him feel quite safe within its walls. More than that, it was the kind of thing he aspired to being himself. He never knew his late father had been a member of the corps, though maybe a small part of him had always known about it, somewhere deep down. But in truth, it was much deeper than just that, much deeper than just wishing to emulate his late father in an attempt at walking in the shoes he left behind.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

For him, it was important to keep growing as an individual for the single reason being the death of both of his parents. Being too young to really remember anything, there were days where he had dreams in which he heard the roars of the three tailed beast and the sounds of its rampage in the distance. Those were honestly some of the worst ones, the nightmares about the day when he lost his parents. As it were, he only really remembered their faces from pictures, as his brain had not truly been developed to the point where he could remember what happened before a certain age. But there was one thing he would never forget.

The fact that both of his parents had died to ensure the safety of the village, as well as their son. It was the kind of sacrifice he could never truly repay, given that it almost felt like they were two strangers that had died for him. After all, there were a lot of people that died during the rampage, his parents being but two names on a long, long list of deaths. But that only further fueled the fire within him to become a Shinobi that would somehow become worthy of said sacrifice. Someone that would give his all to become the most powerful ninja the village had to offer by working hard and studying every day for however long it might require.

For such was his level of dedication. Whether it was practicing new techniques that were currently in progress of development, practicing with the sword or simply possessing a greater level of control over the Hydrification technique passed down throughout the Hozuki clan, every day of training was worth something. And today would be no different. Where he would at times head out to the outskirts of town in order to train in perfect solitude, the fact that the Hozuki had their own area for training on their grounds meant that whenever he felt lazy or conflicted about heading out of the village, he could just choose not to and put in the work while remaining close to home.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

One of the techniques he had been most anxious to learn had been the Water Clone, a ninjutsu he believed would be instrumental to him as a Shinobi that had a strong affinity towards the water element. And for good reason. He had seen other members of his clan use it a bunch of times, and had seen one of his teachers in the Academy utilize the technique while claiming how very capable it was towards those that utilized Suiton. He had been reading up on how to perform it for a while now, but he kept running into the same issue with the way in which it was executed. In short, he believed he could do better.

But that was neither here nor there. Today, he was more worried and occupied with an altogether different form of combat, one that might seem odd for someone who could quite literally turn their whole body into a liquid state and drown someone. It was the use of weaponry, mostly the sword he carried at his side whenever he went out into the field. It was a rather standard sword, though Ken believed that such weapons worked best due to their perceived simplicity. People often would devalue one who wielded a sword when coming into a ninjutsu battle, being believed to be at a disadvantage because a sword could not possibly stand up to a ball of fire or a bolt of lightning.

And while it was true that either of those would fry a swordsman in no time, when in the hands of a truly accomplished weapons expert, even lightning could be cut. To that end, several practicing dummies had been pulled up and placed across the courtyard, ready to be struck from various angles and at different levels of strength and speed. Instead of using his real sword, he would rely on a Bokken, a wooden sword that possessed roughly similar weight. Since it would be a considerable waste of good training equipment to just go carving and cutting into it with an actual sword, not to mention dulling the edge of the weapon in the process, the utilization of a Bokken was by far the best and most clever way to go about it.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

With the wooden blade in hand, the training began with multiple repeated strikes. Bringing the blade down from above his head and hitting the dummy against the right shoulder, the head, the left shoulder and so on and so forth. It was a rather dull and overly simplistic practice regiment, but it served a purpose. It was a great way of building up muscle in the upper arms and shoulders, was a good way of practicing one's stance and solidifying their footing in case a real combat situation were to arise, and did wonders for muscle memory. All of them were really important, but there was something about constantly drilling the same strike to make the body remember.

It was the foundation of the vast majority of martial arts to make the body remember what the brain might consciously forget, somewhere down the line. And as a future practitioner of Kenjutsu that would create a style that was entirely his own, he could not scuff at the basics. And so he went, striking at the dummy again and again, repeating the process for the better part of an hour under the watchful eye of his Sensei. Though unmoving from his spot and potentially being vast asleep, the elderly man had his face pointed towards him at least. Crafty as the old bag was, Ken knew better than to underestimate him and go off on the assumption that he was not paying attention to what he was doing.

Making sure his form remained as flawless as he could keep it, more strikes followed. Shoulder. Head. Shoulder. Every strike landing in the exact same spot with the exact same level of strength exerted and pace behind the blow was next to impossible, but it was something he would strive for regardless. His father had been a great hand to hand combatant, besting almost everyone he fought through means of Taijutsu or by utilizing hidden weaponry. Like himself, his father had the Hozuki Hijutsu to fall back on, liquifying his entire body in order to get out of tricky situations and resituate himself into a more favorable position. It was exactly that which made the Hozuki into such fearsome melee combatants.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

But as it were, he could not exactly say that he had mastered either the sword or his clan's Hijutsu. But he needed to master the body if he was to master the sword, that was what the old man in the chair told him time and again. Striking again and again, beads of sweat were starting to form, proving that even a Hozuki transpired in spite of their physique. Beginning to feel the strain in his arms and shoulders, now was when the exercise reached its more critical levels. Normal people would eventually give up the moment their muscles began to ache, or held out for a few more minutes before giving up and calling it quits.

But most ordinary people did not have something to prove the way that he did, nor did they have his teacher watching over them like a hawk. For once the fatigue started setting in and his strikes began to lessen in strength and speed, it became clear that he would only be able to keep this up for so much longer before his muscles would cease to function as he wanted to entirely. There were limits to the human body after all. So when he felt a harsh tap against his bottom, he almost dropped his wooden sword as his footing faltered. Turning his head to see that the old man had risen from his chair, made his way over to him unheard and gave him a correcting tap with his cane just went on to further prove that Shinobi lost some of their edge with age, but remained sharp regardless.

"I think the dummy has had enough for today, Keneō. Do you think you still have some strength left for a quick sparring session with the old man?"

Hearing the old man speak, the ashen haired youngster could not help but feel relief in the knowledge that he could now stop striking at the inanimate object, which both of his shoulders were quite thankful of. But to go from striking a dummy into a spar might not be the best of ideas. Still, he honestly did not have it in him to say no at this point.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

Shaking his limbs loose and doing a few quick hops on his feet to make sure his body was as ready as it could possibly be, Ken faced the old man. Taking in a deep breath, he held the wooden sword in front of him as he looked his opponent in the eyes. Still just leaning on his cane without really doing much, the old man nodded at him to begin. Stepping in the moment the signal had been given, Ken aimed his sword at the old man's side with a quick and short arc. In a single swipe, the old man raised his cane to the side, striking against the Bokken and twisting it upward into the air before aiming to strike again. Removing the cane after colliding it with the wooden sword suddenly caused the boy to move forward.

The removed cane no longer pressing against his weapon caused his forward momentum due to the fact that his center of gravity suddenly shifted. Having no choice but to alter his footing or get hit over the head with a walking stick, Ken placed his foot forward to regain his footing and instantly dashed back. Putting a few valuable centimeters between his head and the walking stick as it swung in front of his face, the boy had temporarily avoided a single-strike knock out, which would honestly have been a very demoralizing factor had it gone any different. But he was nowhere near out of the woods yet. For as soon as he had stepped back, the old man stepped forth, bringing his cane right back around for another hit.

Elevating his sword and using both hands to stop the single-handed cane strike from the elderly man, Ken had truly believed that his training might have made him stronger at this point. Instead, he was just barely holding his own against a man in his seventies that came swinging at him with a damned walking stick. Intercepting the blow with all of his might, he could feel the strain on his shoulders and upper arms from all of the training as it now actively worked against him. Cursing under his breath, he pushed against the cane as the two makeshift weapons clashed against another, the old man clearly hiding a bit of a smile under his grey beard as he watched his grandson struggle.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

Working as hard as he possibly could in order to protect himself from the blows of a superior opponent, he was rapidly reaching the point where he could no longer properly deflect the attacks from the cane. As he was now, he was still no match for the old man who had a lifetime of practice backing up his every blow. A body that was trained from his youth and had learned to adjust to life as an older warrior, taking all of the faults and pitfalls of old age along with him. But that in itself gave him an idea. Even though this was a spar, it had been inherently unfair from the start as no amount of practicing on a dummy would prepare him for someone with several times his age worth of experience.

Just as the old man was leaning into his strengths, so did he need to lean into his own in order to come up with a proper retort. So just as the attack came his way, Ken liquified his arm and shoulder using the hydrification technique, causing the cane to pass through him, much to the old man's surprise. Not so much surprise born out of him not having expected a Hozuki to become liquid, but surprise because he had not expected his grandson to utilize it in a spar. Then, just as the cane passed through and his arm reformed, Ken managed to land a slight tap on the old man's forehead with the wooden sword. And just like that, the two just stood there for a bit, looking one another over as neither of them had really expected this outcome to be the one they'd end up going with.

Then, the old man just started laughing, moments before flicking the walking stick against the side of the wooden sword, disarming the young Hozuki and ending the spar right there. Showing just how easily the old man could have taken him down if he had wanted to, the fact that he had taken him off-guard was the only reason why he had managed to claim a win. Even if that win was more or less achieved through means of cheating.

"You did will, Keneō. In time, I am certain you will become a fine shinobi. Subterfuge and distractions are as much a ninja's weapons as the sword, so make sure you use them to the fullest.... when not undergoing training, idiot."

[Hōzuki Keneō]

Receiving a swift whack on the forehead with his grandfather's cane, he made it quite clear to the youngster that the next time he pulled a trick like that during a sparring session, that he'd end up receiving a proper beating. Because for all of the things the old man and his wife had done for the boy when his parents did, he was still rather traditional about a lot of things. As such, when Ken was to pull cheap tricks and resort to using his hidden technique, one which his grandfather could also utilize, he would punish him for not taking the training seriously. And he was quite honestly right in doing that, though he did positively affirm Ken's usage of his ninjutsu usage.

"Enough with the swords for today. Why don't you show me what you've been working on, since you're so eager to put our clan's Hijutsu to use."

At first, Ken wasn't entirely sure whether the old man was really saying what was on his mind or if he just wanted to provoke the boy some more. But when after a while, the man began leaning upon his cane again and seemed to actually await any kind of action, the young Hozuki was convinced that he was actually given the okay to use his ninjutsu.

"Well alright. I came up with this one quite recently. It uses our clan's Hijutsu and combines it with the Hidden Mist technique, creating a more dense type of fog that doubles as a sensory field and a counter-sensory field. I felt that it was pretty nifty."

Without warning, Ken broke his body down to nothing but water before almost instantly erupting into a massive, thick bank of fog that covered the entire training grounds in the compound, leaving his grandfather seeing absolutely nothing. While Ken could not exactly see him either, he could feel where he was, though he could not see what the man thought of it. In most ways, it was just the exact same thing as the regular mist technique, though it would take someone possessing sensory skills or a unique type of sensory doujutsu to really understand it for what it was. Even he couldn't be entirely sure if his technique worked the way he wanted to, having to go entirely off of his own understanding of chakra.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

"So... you've combined our Hijutsu with the village's hidden technique, creating a version that can be used only by our people? Not too shabby."

Though he seemed fairly intrigued by the notion, Ken could hear in the old man's voice that he wasn't entirely blown away either. And rightly so, as the technique was in and of itself relatively simple in nature, merely combining several factors and connecting them together into one whole. It was the kind of thing that would be able to do a lot in certain situations, but was outright useless in most others. But that was exactly how he wanted his techniques to be. After all, these were not the sort of skills you learned by reading them out of an old dusty tome or scroll as some kind of relic from the past that kept getting given over to the next generation until the scroll eventually disintegrated from old age and needed to be pencilled over to a new one.

These were his own technique, ninjutsu of his own creation and therefore things he got to be proud of. Even if his grandpa didn't exactly show any real sort of hype over it, the boy himself was very much content with his creations, having his mind set on generating many, many more in time. Slowly bringing all of the moisture back in as Ken reformed into his human shape, the remaining mist that was up and about gradually pulled away as it was no longer getting chakra invested into it. Finally able to see the look on the old man's face, he could tell that he wasn't entirely unphased by what he had seen, though as he was not a sensor himself, he likely could not have appreciated the technique as being nothing more than a slightly fancier version of the hidden mist technique.

"It's not much, but I imagine it to be a start. If I am to ever become a member of the Hunter Nin or the Seven Swordsmen, i'll need techniques like these up my sleeve."

[Hōzuki Keneō]

It wasn't the sort of thing he could slight the old man for, but the fact that he knew better in this situation was something that would later go on to have been a turning point in his life. The moment where he stopped really caring about what other people thought about him and the things he created, and began focusing on how he felt about himself and his creations. Because at the end of the day, that was really all that mattered. And even though he was starting to get tired, he knew that he could not just go ahead and call it after the somewhat disappointing reaction he had received from his grandfather after tricking him during a sparring session.

Picking his wooden sword up from the ground after his grandfather had disarmed him, he wandered back over to the practice dummy. Assuming his stance once more, he resumed his training regiment and returned to simply striking the shoulders and the head in the same order over and over again. With his grandfather watching from the sidelines as the stubborn boy just kept striking and tiring himself out, it was almost as if he wanted to make an attempt at sending some inspiring words in his direction. Though it more or less stranded on it just being an attempt, as it wasn't nearly as inspirational as the man might have intended his words to be.

"If you wish to join either of those groups, mere tricks won't persuade them into letting you in. But a pocketful of tricks just might get you invited to a try-out. Keep up the good work boy."

With that, the old man nodded at him before taking his leave. Odd as it might seem to some, Ken knew that this was the man's way of showing affection, by first letting him know that half-assing it won't due and that he needed to come up with a lot more than just the 'trick' he had spent months teaching himself.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

"I know, I know. That's why i'm already working on a few new techniques that might be slightly more spectacular to witness than a fogbank. One of them uses water clones while the other actually revolves around the use of a sword."

Speaking while keeping his back turned on the old man and his focus lingering on the dummy, the boy could feel his strikes gradually increasing in strength. Not so much because he was aiming to strike it harder, but because it had started turning into a means for him to vent a bit of negativity. The negativity he felt coming from his grandfather not being all that interested in the things he was trying to bring to the table as a member of the clan. Still maintaining his form and the pace of his strikes, Ken could tell that he was placing a greater amount of strain on his muscles this way, though he did not feel like giving into them right now. If it meant that he was going to be more sore the next day, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

When tomorrow came, he could always just focus on the more studious form of training, rather than the physically more draining form. As it were, he just wanted to get rid of as much of the mental strain as possible before he would go back to being a social recluse and studying the clan scrolls in private. But right now, his grandfather was still here and lingering, waiting for the boy to either come back on his earlier words in submission or to just keep going at it with the dummy. After several more minutes of striking, the man just scuffed and turned away while leaving him with exactly four parting words.

"If you say so."

[Hōzuki Keneō]

This honestly felt like a jab at him, almost as if claiming the man had absolutely no faith in his ability to conjure up techniques of his own, yet going slightly deeper than that. It made it feel like the man had no faith in him ever rising far enough through the ranks to one day become a masked shinobi or a member of the Seven. It was the sort of thing he did not want to hear from the relatives he had left, and something that honestly got him riled up potentially more than it should. With a single hard strike, Ken broke the Bokken over the head of the practice dummy, committing a wasteful act of destroying training equipment out of what could only be considered as anger. An emotion he rarely ever felt, if at all.

With the makeshift weapon laying broken at his feet in part, the handle remaining in his hand, he looked in the direction of his grandfather, though he had already made his exit by this point. Picking up the remnants of the Bokken, he tossed both halves aside, intending to clean up the mess once he was done here. As he was now without a weapon, Ken just started punching the dummy with his fists. Not entirely without any kind of technique behind it, but not possessing nearly enough of it for it to be called stylish.

Once he began adding kicks to the punches, the whole anger venting issue turned into a complete full body workout before he really even knew what was going on. Not being the kind of person that ever did any venting, this just proved how much it stung to experience having a relative that did not believe in you or your capabilities. Whether it was all just some elaborate ruse to try and get him to come out of his shell and try harder or not, he couldn't tell at this point. All he really felt was the unyielding levels of anger that were, quite frankly, starting to eb away ever so slowly with every single punch and kick that landed on the lifeless dummy.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

Roughly fifteen minutes after the fact, Ken finally ceased his barrage of punches and kicks as he allowed himself to collapse backwards against the yard floor. With a hollow thump, he just remained where he had fallen as he looked up to the skies above him. Somewhere along the way, the day had started reaching its end as the sun had gotten much lower in the sky. But that was often the case when it came to him training, what with it being the things he liked to do most during the day. One could almost go as far as calling it a hobby, of which he honestly only had a few of his own. Looking down his scuffed knuckles and fingers, as well as his bruised shins, the ashen haired youth could easily tell he had gone too far.

Turning his gaze back to the sky, he took in a couple of deep breaths as he could tell that he needed to. His body was quite worn out, the fatigue having set in and rendering him sore all over, not to mention the fact that he was just tired. So very tired. But he couldn't stay here. If one of the other Hozuki came around and saw him like this, he would quite honestly feel silly about it, not to mention inferior. And in the worst case scenario, the one who would come around looking would be his grandfather, which he absolutely could not abide by. No, he needed to get up, and he needed to get up now. He could take a breather once he got back home and into the shower.

Rising to his feet, he began to make his way back to his apartment, turned on the shower and just sat down underneath the warm beams with his clothes still on. Laying down in the tub as the water rained down on him, he could see how the dirt and grime was slowly being washed away. Along with it, most of the aggression he felt was also making its way out, which made him feel a whole lot better. As he made his way out of his dirty clothes and sloppily tossed them into the nearby basket, he continued properly washing himself down with soap before getting out, drying himself down and flopping straight into bed. For all of the training he had been doing today, he was one hundred percent confident that he was going to be feeling this one tomorrow. And that he would be feeling it everywhere.


[EXIT]