[Hōzuki Keneō]

But the more he focused himself on pulling the weapon back towards himself while quieting the other voices and thoughts inside of his mind, it appeared as though the weapon itself became more willing to adhere to Ken's wishes. After a bit more nudging, the weapon came flying back into his direction, prompting Ken to grab it by the handle and snag it out of the air. It was a process that could do with some refining, though it was at the very least a viable technique for him to be putting more time and effort into for the sake of combat. That said though, he didn't think it was going to be perfect for ordinary shuriken, kunai and other such tools due to the amount of individual focus such a technique required.

So as he held his blade out in front of him, Ken looked into it to see just how sharp the thing was. It was strange to think that this was one of the only keepsakes he had that used to belong to his father, at least in a professional sense. In all honesty, the ashen haired shinobi was still having his reservations about whether or not he should be using it in combat, though it wasn't so much about him not wanting to hurt people with it. After all, the people he drew his blade on were individuals that had inadvertently brought it upon themselves to get cut down, so that was hardly worth the thought. What he was afraid of was losing it in battle or it getting destroyed during a fight, as it would mean losing the one memento he had.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

To that end, it felt odd that he would be throwing his weapon around at a dummy, though it made sense that he would do it in order to learn how to bring the weapon back to his hand in case he lost it. Continuing the same trend for a while as he threw the weapon into the dummy and then recalled it, the process of retrieval slowly became easier to the point where it no longer got staggered. That said however, his airborne retrieval could use some work, though he felt like the actual technique itself was something he had down well enough to be useful. Feeling the strain on his limbs from the training exercises, the boy could tell that he had been going on for quite a while now, even though it did not feel like it.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that, for a lot of it, he was mostly lost in thought, thinking about the tragedies that had befallen him in recent times. The trials and tribulations that had been strewn across his path had been shaping and molding him into a better shinobi, one that was rapidly learning how to be functional on his own as well as being part of a team. And while he was capable of adjusting himself to teams and task forces to the best of his abilities, he could not shake the thought that maybe the village had intended for him to become a singular weapon. One that could act as a dagger in the dark, as well as a blade acting in tandem with others to form a decent enough phalanx for protection or a offense.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

Returning Kagewani from the dummy to his hand one last time, the boy put the weapon back into its scabbard before rolling up the individual scrolls he had been reading from today. It was a shame that he wasn't able to get into the third one much at this time, though he felt like the other two had been getting a decent enough amount of attention for him to be able to neglect them on the next run in favor of the former. But with the retrieval of his weapon and his training scrolls, the time had come for him to head back home so he could prepare dinner, take a shower and go to bed. On the walk back, he once again found himself thinking about how he was the leading cause of Taiso's early demise.

How if maybe he had been faster, he might have been able to get to him faster before he bled out. How being a better investigator might have put him on the proper trail more quickly, quick enough at least to aid him in the fight that ended his life. How perhaps being a more personable individual that could talk to people about things such as their feelings more easily might have been able to put him on a more level field with the guy. For as things had been, the only times when Ken and Taiso had been able to really talk to one another about something or the other was about a mission during a mission, or about training during a training exercise. Because while Taiso was a talker, Ken was more... practical in nature.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

For what it was worth, in the weeks leading up to the other's death, he had been doing his best to try and become a better conversationalist by taking Yuzuki fishing and by asking Homare to come over for dinner. The goal had been to place an emphasis on his conversation skills and how to put his thoughts to words better, believing that it would be a great benefit to his work as a police officer, as a shinobi, and during situations where he would need to have conversations with his team mate. But when the latter died, he honestly felt stupid for having tried to learn such things for a while, at least until he realized that it was still useful to a degree for the previously mentioned reasons.

Upon returning to his home, he didn't waste any time getting inside and locking the door behind him. Keeping the blinds closed to make sure people would get the idea that he was out, he sat himself down on the couch for a bit. Looking up at the wall that held Taiso'd battered mask, he sighed deeply as he thought about his own shortcomings, Taiso's shortcomings, but primarily the shortcomings of the village as a whole in failing to properly educate a kid that became a Genin with the belief that he could thrive without any offensive means and only a handful of Genjutsu that could make a person laugh against their will. It made him wonder what their lives would have been like at this point if someone like Toru or Sora had taken them on.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

Obviously the Mizukage was too busy to take on a Genin squad of his own, and he knew that Sora was already the assigned Sensei to the squad that Homare was on. He also knew that when someone took on a squad but lacked the time to be a part of it, it was no different from not having a sensei at all. The only thing that changed was what was written on paper, and a piece of paper had never really made a whole lot of difference in the life of a shinobi. Still, it made him wonder if by now, maybe he would have been a better swordsman, that if maybe Taiso would have managed to learn a bunch of ninjutsu for the sake of self-defense, or knew how to properly wield a weapon.

Whether or not it would have been enough to keep him alive or if maybe it would have kept him from going on that specific mission by himself that day, Ken would likely never know. What he did know was that all of these horrible things had happened, and that once again he was the surviving factor that needed to deal with it if he was to have a future of his own. So rather than sitting at home and feeling sorry for himself, he would use his anger as motivation to keep training and to keep getting stronger. He would train even more than he had done in the past, would take on more missions and would patrol for longer periods of time and for greater distances. All so that he could step over his problematic past and present, and into a more productive future.

[Hōzuki Keneō]

A future where he could consider himself among the Genin that were deemed capable enough to become Chuunin during the exams in Amegakure. Where he could strive to one day become a Jounin and perhaps take on a Genin team of his own, to keep them from having to go to the lengths that he had to get to where he was, and to keep people like Taiso from believing they could make it on their own without proper training and means of self-defense. To keep protecting the hidden mist village like his parents had done before him, and had done for him up until the moment of their passing. But such was the way of the ponderer, no amount of it would bring any kind of change.

So as much as he wanted to take down Taiso's mask and put it away, Ken wasn't there yet. He was getting there, but he wasn't there just yet. So for the time being, he would be keeping it up there until he felt like he had mourned enough and the time had come to truly move on. Perhaps once the Chuunin exams were over and he returned home in triumph, he would burn the mask in a ceremonious fashion as both a send-off for Taiso, as well as it being a way to close that chapter in Ken's own life and make room for a new one. Hopefully a better one, though that remained to be seen. For now, he would focus on cooking his dinner, get himself some time in the shower and roll right on out to bed. Tomorrow was another day.


[EXIT]