Chessboxin': Da Mystery of

A gentle breeze rolled in from the east, under the moonlights presence a figure zig then zagged numerous times, its features obscured by the blackout backdrop that accompanied a naturally devoid of light path. Blades of grass gracefully glanced its ankles as it moved across the plain, a semi-shapeless orb bouncing counter to its every position then correcting itself in preparation for the next. Along side the moon's presence an array of stars painted the night sky. Formations of constellations, distant and not so distant planets, the portrait of this world could be described as nothing other than beautiful and as he trekked Iroai silently admired the world that he had been blessed to have been born in.

Kyoto iroai: S rank Jounin of Kusagakure no Sato

The figure made a left off of the beaten path, the girth of the blades of grass grew engorged as he progressed and not so graceful they became. A steady pace he still trekked unbothered by such frivolous concepts even if they dared come to his own mind. Silence was not his desire it would appear, the clang of not one but two holsters lightly tapped each of his sides, though smaller than normal still scaled to his size as compliments from the village. A single katana unsheathed, gripped twice at the hilt, and primed for any would be combatant. And still, he trekked with only the moon as his companion as he walked this lonely road, to many, the loneliest road that they had ever known, but still if it were their will, they would walk alone.

A richer more moist air blew from this direction, he could feel it on his skin, as he grew nearer the sounds became clearer. The river, he was soon approaching. Yet, his pace grew sluggish and before long Iroai body became rigid in place, the steel in hand much the same parting his body before him tip nearly an inch from the ground. In concert, frogs croaked, mosquitoes buzzed, and the occasional dipping in and out of the water of a fish fighting the current heading up stream became the music of the night. Although, what Iroai heard was other. Opposite once more his hair went as he titled his head both to and fro, there was no rush to his movements either, the boy surveyed what he could with his head mostly angled toward the ground. A lesson in peripheral vision, perhaps?

Without a moments notice, a glistening of steel pierced the blackened setting reflecting off of the moons light, speeds impressive enough to offset the natural orchestra at work. Hmph… Strike one… Metal met steel as an in of the three foot katana pierced the gravely bedrock still sturdy from not becoming the banks edge, in this act Iroai's palms had gone flat and his weight distributed to them causing his body to go air ward. - KLINK! KLINK! - Steel canceled steel and neither bugged, the power of their collision sending the non-grounded projectiles off course - CHUNK! CLANK-KA-KA - a duel strike, the first becoming embedded in the earth, although the second clattered across its surface and a brief glance made Iroai aware, but a second to think further was not afforded.

Shit… They are decent… The upward motion that brought him airborne was rallied through is legs, a twist in his hips afforded by his partial samurai armor brought Iroai's legs whipping around in windmill form native to capoeira and b-boy styles. - FWOOSH - A full miss aimed at his torso, no doubt the same type as before. - FWOOSH - A delayed launch aimed near the hilt. Not chancing it, pressure was forced through the hands into the hilt burying it another inch before Iroai and it briefly parted ways. The barreling motion from his windmill paired with his airborne stunt, coming from an upward motion the legs came around after the kunai's miss to replace his hands on the hilt.

The moon was his backdrop, his figure from the top of his afro styled hair down to his sandals could be seen eclipsing the enlarged blue satellite in the planet's orbit. Iroai stood with arms folded across his chest, entrails of his headband half his own size were caught in the wind dancing in it its breeze. There the boy, Kusagakure no Sato's S rank Jounin, stood unhindered by the space allotted to him by the other end of his katana, eyes still angled down but in full awareness of what was to come next.