Top of the Worl--Er, Apartment [T]
May 20, 2015 12:52:33 GMT -7
Post by Drawl on May 20, 2015 12:52:33 GMT -7
[Intro]
Aoki pushed the door open to the roof of the building into the light drizzle, Oe close on his heels, ignoring the light drizzle bouncing off the top of his Amagasa; Oe himself was bare-headed, but was, as usual, oblivious to the village's namesake precipitation. The twins were in their separate bodies, meaning one thing at a time like this: it was training time.
Their chosen training ground, away from the prying eyes, happened to also be atop the place where they were best known: the roof of their apartment complex in downtown Amegakure. It was here for two years that the brothers had come and trained without fear of their secret being discovered, where the other members of the apartment never ventured and the peers at the academy were far away. Not that there would be much to question. Today, as before, they were just two brothers training separately, not a single entity. Still, if they wanted to maintain their secrecy for as long as possible (for the good of the village, as it was ingrained in their mind since day one of the academy), they would continue as they had always had.
At first glance, the roof looked both barren and flat, square stone ringed in a metal fence. The architects of the building, to compensate for the rain, had given the roof the slightest of slopes, barely noticeable except when the rain was coming down heavy and running off the sides. It wasn't perfect, though, so puddles of water would still stand in the center of the roof, where a single wooden post, a foot across in diameter and standing eight feet tall, had been planted there. Aoki stepped through the puddles, barely noticing them, stepping close to the post to run his right hand across the scarred wood, with its hundred indents and scrapes from getting hit over the years; in his left hand he held his oil umbrella, the weapon in which had inflicted so many of those strikes.
Behind him, Oe took up his spot against the feet, cross-legged and slouching against the metal bars behind him; the training he planned on doing wasn't going to require much movement.
They had separated fifteen minutes ago. That gave them three hours and some forty odd minutes to train before they had to merge again. How many techniques could he feasibly learn before they needed to reunite. How many strikes of the umbrella against wood? How many illusions and tricks of the mind? Will today be the day they they go too long and remain this way forever?
Aoki shook the anxiousness away and lifted the umbrella into the parasol stance. Behind him, Oe closed his eyes, racking his brains for the seals he'll need for his own techniques. . . the training had begun.
Aoki pushed the door open to the roof of the building into the light drizzle, Oe close on his heels, ignoring the light drizzle bouncing off the top of his Amagasa; Oe himself was bare-headed, but was, as usual, oblivious to the village's namesake precipitation. The twins were in their separate bodies, meaning one thing at a time like this: it was training time.
Their chosen training ground, away from the prying eyes, happened to also be atop the place where they were best known: the roof of their apartment complex in downtown Amegakure. It was here for two years that the brothers had come and trained without fear of their secret being discovered, where the other members of the apartment never ventured and the peers at the academy were far away. Not that there would be much to question. Today, as before, they were just two brothers training separately, not a single entity. Still, if they wanted to maintain their secrecy for as long as possible (for the good of the village, as it was ingrained in their mind since day one of the academy), they would continue as they had always had.
At first glance, the roof looked both barren and flat, square stone ringed in a metal fence. The architects of the building, to compensate for the rain, had given the roof the slightest of slopes, barely noticeable except when the rain was coming down heavy and running off the sides. It wasn't perfect, though, so puddles of water would still stand in the center of the roof, where a single wooden post, a foot across in diameter and standing eight feet tall, had been planted there. Aoki stepped through the puddles, barely noticing them, stepping close to the post to run his right hand across the scarred wood, with its hundred indents and scrapes from getting hit over the years; in his left hand he held his oil umbrella, the weapon in which had inflicted so many of those strikes.
Behind him, Oe took up his spot against the feet, cross-legged and slouching against the metal bars behind him; the training he planned on doing wasn't going to require much movement.
They had separated fifteen minutes ago. That gave them three hours and some forty odd minutes to train before they had to merge again. How many techniques could he feasibly learn before they needed to reunite. How many strikes of the umbrella against wood? How many illusions and tricks of the mind? Will today be the day they they go too long and remain this way forever?
Aoki shook the anxiousness away and lifted the umbrella into the parasol stance. Behind him, Oe closed his eyes, racking his brains for the seals he'll need for his own techniques. . . the training had begun.