Senbon Taitoku Dojo

[// One]

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[Molokai]

40/60

As Toru neared the completion of his goal, he knew that this was going to be the hardest part. He had already altered his perception, enhanced his throw, and learned the dynamics of a senbon in flight, but it was about to get a lot harder. All of that had merely been a prerequisite, because now he had to take it all and apply it with such pinpoint accuracy he could his a small, round poll from a hundred meters away. He didn't expect, and in some respects didn't even try, to strike the pole the first time. Hitting the broad side of a shingled roof was easy, but now he had to adjust his throw both horizontally and vertically. Cocking his arm back and releasing it with all of his might, he locked his eyes on the tiny target and willed the needle to it. Not surprisingly, it sailed harmlessly over the roof.

There was such a saying that something must always be done three times. The first, one will always overshoot or undershoot. The second, one will always overcompensate or under-compensate. It wasn't until the third try that one has a chance of getting it right. But in this case, the chance was still painfully slim. Which was why, of course, he would have to replace luck with skill and make the shot happen every single time. The throw he had just completed landed embarrassingly to the right of the post, but was just about the right height. So, a logical assumption of what to do next, Toru endeavored to aim farther to the left. Winding up his strongest throwing arm, he again let the needle rip and tracked it on it's journey. Again, he missed, but this naturally did not surprise him.

Going along with the idiom of the saying, Toru's second attempt was maddeningly off to the left, although still closer in distance than the first. What this meant was that, somewhere in between his extreme right and extreme left, lied the perfect shot. This second miss was important, because now he had a framework of what not to do and a mental guide of his limits. So, adjusting his aim to the right, with about half of the zealousness of his first adjustment, he theoretically could hit the target this time. The wind-up, the throw, the painfully long sail through the air as time seemed to slow itself down, as he threw yet another senbon. It's arc was perfect; it's speed and power were flawless, and for a moment Toru allowed himself to hope for a prompt success. However, that hope was dashed yet again.

Three times he threw at the pole. The first two went exactly as planned, and the third demonstrated that his skill was not yet sufficient to overcome the curse of luck. This, however, did not deter him, because he observed exactly how close he had come to hitting his target. There, so unbelievably close one could have fooled a simple man into believing he succeeded, was a gouge. A very small gap missing in the side of the post, so small that Toru wondered how he could see it from so far away. But despite all of his expectations, it was there. Maybe it was a sign of luck, but from the angle he threw it last, it would take but the tiniest adjustment to bring it back on course. Yes, just one more throw, mere centimeters to the left. Cocking back, he allowed his course to change by the tiniest degree, and was met by the satisfying whump of metal lodging itself in wood.

[Ancestor Febrie]

+10

[Molokai]

50/60

And now, for the final challenge. Everything he had done at this dojo had led up to this point, the point where he hit something he could barely see at a range he could barely comprehend. Once he did this, nothing would ever be basic again. As he concentrated with all of his might on the tiny target on the horizon, he did his best to make out the even tinier dot that rested upon it. The trick here was to be able to distinguish different colors and changes in pattern from great distance, which would allow him to adapt to future situations as well as allow him to target specific vital points. In this case, the vital point of the stick, the point that would cause it to keel over and die without a sound, was the dot. Centering his aim on the pole, he attempted to target higher up than before and let it fly.

As expected, he massively overshot his first throw. Clearly, whatever mechanism was at work for where the needle landed was very sensitive, meaning that even the slightest nudge up or down drastically changed the outcome of the throw. But that was to be expected when dealing with such massive distances, since the tiny angle stopped being tiny after a while. So, angling down ever so slightly, Toru hoped in vain for the attack to be more successful. Without fail, just as he had expected, the needle stuck just below the intended mark. Or, he thought it landed below the mark. It was still difficult to make out the red circle from the rest of the dark colors around it. Another mighty toss, this time on approximately the same angle, revealed that he truly had no idea what he was aiming at.

Before there was even a chance of landing a pinpoint shot from a hundred meters away, Toru had to focus well enough to see what he was trying to hit. The wood that composed the staff was a dark reddish oak, very cleverly blending with the slightly-lighter red that adorned the dot. The trick, Toru believed, was that the pattern of the smooth circle clashed with the linear pattern of the wood, so paying attention to that detail would allow him to decide where to hit. There were knots in the staff, of course, but those still had the woody texture and were able to blend smoothly with the grain of the staff. Since the red dot wasn't there to begin with, it would seem rather abrupt and sudden if one were to follow the pattern upwards. Searching for this sudden change, Toru took a mighty shot at what he believed he was searching for.

Whether or not he had actually found the dot was of secondary importance to the fact that he missed again. The first throw would always overshoot or undershoot, the second throw would always overcompensate or undercompensate, so the only chance of hitting would be after the third. Counting quickly, Toru guessed that this was his second throw. So, since he overshot with the first throw, he also overcompensated with this one, dropping the needle way lower than the intended target. The next time, however, he was confident he would be able to land the shot precisely where he meant to. Casting out all other measurements he had before, he recalculated everything he had learned and made his throw anew. A light golf-clap emanated from behind him, as both he and Sensei observed a perfect dead-center hit.

[← KIRA →]

+9

[Molokai]

Why not, just for the hell of it. Let's try to split the arrow. Since senbon are double-ended, hitting it precisely enough to hammer it deeper into the post would definitely prove his mastery of advanced throwing. Focusing all of his attention on the very tip of the protruding needle, Toru willed his projectile to follow a path that would lead it there. Trusting in his expertise, he threw with a force that would guide it quickly to it's destination, watching with satisfaction as the other one was pushed deeper by the incredibly precise hit.

[// One]

Learned.

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[Molokai]

[exit]

[Molokai]

SPOILER: Click to show

Buki-Kaikei (Weapon Finance)
Rank: B
Skill: Tai
Effect: The Senbon Taitoku user is able to use any type of projectile weapon as a deadly weapon, regardless how stupid it may seem.
Special: ---
Drawback: ---
Description:After being trained rigorously with almost every type of throwing weapon imaginable, developing an uncanny ability to use virtually any object as a lethal projectile. As a result, the user can accomplish many feats with thrown projectiles that are impossible outside of fiction. This include lacerating a person’s throat with a thrown playing card, spitting your own tooth through a human skull, tossing a paper airplane to a distant rooftop, and killing a person with a toothpick. Any form of projectile weapon is now a deadly weapon in the hands of a Senbon Taitoku User.
Limit: Must be a Senbon Taitoku user

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Sensei said, "A true senbon master can use anything as a deadly weapon. If you can hold it in your hand, you should be able to kill with it." That being said, Sensei gave him six objects and explained the task to him. "You are to go into the village and find the locations these objects are taken from. Inside, you will find a target. You must throw the object and dispatch the target with the same precision you would throw a needle." Good luck. She didn't say it, but she knew he would need it.

The first object Toru chose was a chopstick. Just one. Not a pair, but one lonely chopstick. Venturing into the village, he quickly realized that everywhere that sold food also gave out chopsticks, which greatly increased the difficulty of finding which particular one. He slipped into the smallest shop first and took a seat on the stool, glancing around for any sign of a target. A flash of red caught his eye, and he realized that one of the same red dots he'd been targeting since he started was stuck to the back wall of the kitchen, some ten meters away. Ten meters wasn't so far, with a senbon he could spit that far and score a kill. But he had to use a chopstick. So, waiting until nobody was looking, he hurled the small piece of wood as hard as he could at the dot, and watched as it bounced comically off the wall.

It was much lighter and much longer than the senbon he was accustomed to, thereby greatly increasing the effect of wind resistance on it. He decided that the only way to get it to fly on target, while maintaining enough speed to penetrate, was to minimize that resistance as much as possible. Skirting confused looks from the kitchen staff about the sudden presence of random chopstick, Toru selected another and waited until everybody went back to work. To minimize the resistance, he figured it would have to fly perfectly straight, since any variation in the angle of attack would be exaggerated many, many times. With a flick and a twist, Toru put all of the force behind the thin wooden shard and attempted to give it a bit of spin. It was right on target. Just then, a fan turned on.

Suddenly finding itself blasted off course, the hapless stick careened against the back door and drew more perplexed looks from the space monkeys in the back. Now shooting him accusatory glares, Toru returned to his bowl of noodly whatever and pretended not to notice. Clearly he wasn't fooling anyone. If he didn't stick this damned splinter into the evasive wall very soon, he'd probably be thrown out and banned from the chopstick bucket. Now he had to compensate for the fan, which meant he had to throw it at just the right angle that the breeze actually pushed the stick into position. Judging the angle the wind was blowing and the level of deflection he witnessed on his first throw, Toru constructed a rough model of where to throw it. The wind up. The pitch. Direct hit. Flop to the floor.

Toru significantly doubted that bouncing off of the target was what Sensei had in mind. Thus, with the last throw before the space monkeys got wise and threw him out, he had to muster enough force to pierce the thing he was going to kill. On top of mustering the force, and the angle, he also had to keep it discreet. It wouldn't do to stand up and wind his arm back if he was going for a stealth kill in a crowded place. So, flexing his wrist as best he could, adding a little charge of chakra for good measure, Toru unleashed the pent-up energy in his arm. It flashed with the speed of a professional, his muscles so used to the throwing motion they know what to do better than his mind does. As the owner chased him out with a broom, Toru his a smile as the space monkeys tried in vain to remove the stuck chopstick.

[goliath764]

10++

[Molokai]

10/60

Five more items to go. Reaching into his pocket, Toru picked an object at random. A pencil. Your average, every day, graphite #2 pencil used nearly everywhere that an eraser might be required. Most office buildings used pens, and there was no way he was going to the Mizukage's office to throw pencils around, so he went and inspected the Mist ninja academy. As a chuunin, he was allowed on and off campus without anybody questioning him (whereas genin were sometimes mistaken for students and forced into a class), so it wasn't a problem for him to poke around until he found an empty classroom with an overstock of sharpened pencils and a conspicuous red dot painted haphazardly on the sliding door. Taking a handful of the experimental items, he retreated to the other side of the room and threw a test.

With his advanced experience in throwing things, his throw was noticeably more accurate than the throws of the academy students, who's attempts were marked in grey around the dot. Clearly, Sensei had set up this entire operation ahead of time, way ahead of time. Despite his experience, however, it still landed eraser-first and bounced harmlessly to the floor, snapping off the sharp tip with the impact. Pencils were a difficult design; the center of weight was in the back, and the tip was soft and fragile. Without chakra intervention, only soft targets could hope to be pierced, assuming the awkward balance didn't derail the whole operation in mid-flight. Toru threw another pencil and carefully watched it's flight, observing the pattern it took through the air and devising a way to counteract it.

With a casual toss, the back-weight wanted to come forward, but the momentum kept it spinning until it crashed. Like that, it would be luck and guesswork for it to land tip-first, and it would almost certainly hit at an angle and snap the graphite. So, in order to counteract this unfortunate tendency, Toru needed to throw the pencil in such a way that the rear-based weight pushed the rest of the bulk forward. Essentially, if it wasn't perfectly straight as soon as it left his hand, it would go drastically off course and risk not doing enough damage. Palming it gently, allowing the base of the eraser to rest in the cup of his glove, he made a hybrid motion of flicking his wrist and thrusting his arm. Lacking in both accuracy and power, the wooden projectile landed tip-first in the paper door, several feet below his mark.

The concept was right, mostly. He just needed to do it in such a way that it went where he wanted it to. For a moment, he considered cheating and simply blasting it with chakra, but he knew that wouldn't help him at all. In a situation where he actually had to use this skill, chakra use may not be an option, so he had to make sure he was able to do it with his own physical steam. An idea occurred to him, one that was reminiscent of the classroom he occupied. When a technique like this needed to be used, it would most likely be in a situation where he couldn't make a public spectacle of it. Which meant he needed to be as discreet as possible, so a big arm-based throw definitely wouldn't do. So, he tucked his middle finger into his palm, situated the pencil securely against it, stabilized it with his ring and index fingers, and flicked with all his might while thrusting his arm. Sure enough, the graphite spike disappeared, replaced by a perfectly rounded hole where it once was.

[Molokai]

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Whether or not that aspect of the technique was thoroughly mastered, Toru made the decision to move on. If he later discovered he was still having difficulties with the pencil, he'd come back. Searching his pockets for the next goal, Toru fingered something he wasn't expecting at all. Retrieving the object, he discovered it was nothing less than a playing card. Nothing special about it, really. 3 of clubs, some weird symbols on the back, made of card-stock and shattered dreams. Flipping it like a Frisbee, Toru watched with a perturbed look at is spun and careened into the dirt, not even doing so much as denting the soft ground. Picking it up and wiping it off, he bit his cheek as he sought the nearest house of gambling. As it turned out, the local casino was also a brothel.

Smelling of stale booze, cheap cigars, lies and sex, Toru felt decidedly like he didn't belong there. Apparently, the local hooligans agreed, seeing him dressed as a shinobi and either ducking out of sight or sizing him up. While some saw him as some kind of law enforcer, thus immediately hating him for his very existence, everybody saw him as a freak. In the world of shinobi, strange and inhuman appearances were commonplace as bloodlimits and rituals altered their bodies to make them more effective fighters. In here, he was just another retard. Deciding to forgo braving the blackjack table, Toru palmed a card deck and occupied a dart board. Taking it again like a throwing disk, he took a backhand stance and flicked it with gusto, only to have it flutter off in another direction.

Feeling the eyes on him, Toru tried again, but to no avail. The aerodynamics of the playing card simply didn't allow a straight throw to be made like that. Even the slightest bit of angle variation to any direction results in it veering wildly off course, even making a complete turnaround before coming to rest. Willing to try one more angle of attack before trying to find a new plan, he lined up the card vertically, matching the line of his arm. Then, curling his limb like a scorpion preparing to strike, he brought his arm down with a vengeance. The card was released from his nimble fingers and erupted toward his target, rocketing with all speed and fully prepared to destroy anything in it's path. It's collision with the dart board, did not happen. During it's path, one side dipped, and the whole thing smacked into the ground with an audible pop.

Just then, a gruff-looking fellow with a beard that made him look like the drunken lovechild of a viking and a walrus approached and spoke in a rumbling voice that would knock town a house of cards from across the room. "You can't use your thumb. You gotta just use your first two fingers." Toru, feeling vaguely like he had just experienced a minor earthquake, held the card that the Norse stranger handed to him. Even if it was accurate, it also needed to pierce, so Toru quickly hardened the edge with his paper release and let it rip. Seas parted as the man resembling Thor laughed his booming laugh, apparently deeply pleased that the half-and-half boy split the dart board in half. With a clap on the back that felt more like a mountain moving, the stranger congratulated him and returned to his reinforced barstool.

In response to the continued jeering of the gamblers, Toru threw a dart from across the room, hit the board with a dead bullseye and nailed some guy's cigar to the wall. Nobody said a word as he disappeared through the front door.

[// One]

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