Headache

The  village was in a time of peace but it wasn't the best of situations because the village still lacked the growth and development that had been planned when the village had its last meeting with those it deemed powerful and worthy. Since then things have changed, for instance there was a new Hanakage and his name was Sinna Uchiha, he was a strong and formidable shinobi but he was still young, being thrusted into the position of kage was something that didn't initially sit well with him but he eventually grew to accept the role. For instance the young kage was busy in his office right now slaving away doing paperwork, he had been signing papers for the past few days which didn't make him feel good as he was someone that needed freedom in order to feel.. well free. He spent most of his days behind a desk since becoming leader of the flower village since he became Hanakage and it was genuinely eating at him. His fire as a shinobi would burn no brighter than it was at this point in his life and he was spending his best years behind a desk stamping paper over trivial matters.

It was almost time for the Hanakage to have a meeting with those who put the village in his hands and explain his urge for more to them. They needed to understand that Sinna was wasting away behind this desk and he would not stand for it. A sigh would leave the mouth of Sinna as he looked to his window seeing how the beautiful sun looked while it set highlighting the cherry blossoms that covered the tree's near his office. With a slight smile on his face Sinna would push away from his desk standing from his chair and calmly walking to his window, from there he'd open it and jump to the tree which was a few feet from his window, from there he'd casually slide down the bark of the tree before dusting his pants off and finding himself outside of his own building, staring up at his office.

"Ahem" phlegm was cleared from the throat of the Uchiha while alerting the man to his presents. His raven haired was noticeable, along with tomoe shaped earrings dangling from his ears. The man also sported a set of hairpieces in his hair. His brown eyes paying close attention to individual before him. Izanagi arrived on the scene a mere moment after the man landed on the ground. His attention was safely fixated on the office above. Izanagi on the other hand stood his ground six feet away from the white haired one. He didn't bother making any plans for the day. This was merely a casual stroll which set him on his current course. If anything, Izanagi was curious to know what the man was escaping from. His right hand rose and tapped against the black bar being sported as a piercing through his eyebrow. The six foot two inches frame belonging to Izanagi sported a mixture of black and grey Shinobi attire. He wears a black hooded top with long sleeves covering up his arms. He wears a pair of grey finger-less gloves. And between the long sleeved hoodie and his gloves, his entire arms are covered up by his attire. A grey flack jacket is usually sported over his hoodie top. And beneath this flack jacket is the hoodie and underneath his hoodie top is a short sleeved fishnet top.

The flack jacket also covers up portions of his shoulders, although not quite an armour plate. The hoodie top also extends down to his thighs, with the material folding over itself to create a split. What this does it prevent the garment from obstructing Izanagi's movements. As such parting his legs and the like is as easy as breathing. Or better yet it would come as easy as walking around in his birthday suit. His black pants are somewhat baggie. Izanagi also wears grey leg warmers on his legs that covers up a portion of his back shinobi sandals. A grey and black Anbu like mask is often sported by the man that is Izanagi. In essence he wears nothing fancy except for the normal Shinobi gear. "Howdy" he uttered with a gentle smile on his face. His right hand moving to wave at the man stood before him. In truth, he wasn't yet sure what to make of the situation. Howdy should be more than enough to get someone's attention. His introverted nature proved to be problematic at times. That and compared to most other Shinobi he lacked experience. He was working on getting better and have come along way. That smile of his shifted to a stoic expression. His posture showed he was quite relaxed. But compared to past times, his body showed less openings. He wasn't at all perfect just yet.

They often said that hard work was the key to success. "Up to much?" Izanagi asked while showing himself to be socially awkward. He was tentative, unsure of what to say or even do at this point in time. A sigh being released was proof of that. In any case, this could turn out to be quite the meeting.

“Get up.” Akumi’s voice echoed.

Takashi held back the tears; His back was on fire, the streaks where the sword had hit him flaring up in snakes of burning pain. He could barely could hold on to the bokken; his knuckles bruised from a badly angled parry. He squeezed shut his eyes to hold back the tears.

“Don’t you dare cry.”

He pushed himself upright, resting on the wooden sword as if it was a cane. The familiar disappointed eyes of his mother gazed at him, a piercing stare that never got any less intimidating. Even after hours of training, she still looked immaculate; not even a single drop of sweat on her brow, still in an offensive stance; whilst Takashi’s clothes were soaked through, patches of crimson where the strikes had broken skin, each ragged breath sending droplets of sweat down on the wooden floor.

“Again.”

The words had barely left her mouth before she struck at him. He put up his sword, staggering into a haphazard defensive stance as he barely intercepted the incoming strike. The assault was unrelentless, Takashi staggering back with each dull thud of the wooden swords, Akumi stepping up on every inch he gave. His exhausted body could barely keep up, his hands taking increasing new shades as he failed to parry blows in time.

Maybe it was a blow stronger than the rest or a break too big in stance, as he lost his footing, the wooden floor beneath having grown slick with his own sweat. The air left his lungs as he hit the ground with a thud. Breathless, the beams seemed to meld with the roof and darken, seeping his vision into a dark blob. His body was one big ache, yet a voice in his mind kept telling him to stand up. His mother's voice.

He felt himself lifted, color seemingly coming to his eyes. He could feel the unmistakable feel of soft breast pressing against his chest.

Ah, he knew this dream well.

His hands rose slowly, seeking the globus forms that dominated his every thought. Yet before they could find a firm grip, his mother came into view, stone-faced, her lips moving soundlessly. His arms instantly lost all life, falling limp along the rest of his body, his crimson cheeks only adding to his face of shame.

“Enough Kenjutsu for today, Takashi.” she whispered in his ear, as she hugged him gently, his head resting on her shoulder. Her tone was mellow, the words as if made of velvet.

She gently let go of him, got up stiffly and retrieved a small wooden box from one of the corners of the room. Placing it gently on the ground in front of Takashi; She kissed his forehead. “Patch yourself up and go for a walk, dear.” She spoke softly and sweetly once more, yet the last word always sounded awkward to his ears. He was far more familiar with the disappointment, chiding or anger, than this sweetness which scarcely came out of his mother.

Takashi’s eyes never left the ground, and albeit he heard no sound, he knew his mother was now gone. He warily opened the wooden box, even though he knew its contents. Basic medical supplies. He knew his mother knew jutsu that could mend wounds and bruises with a mere touch, yet she wanted to make sure her son knew the mundane way to heal the body, apart from the fact that she was a firm believer that painful lessons were the easiest to remember.

When all the bandages were set; he wearily got up and headed out. His mother had probably meant for him to clean up and get a fresh change of clothes, yet Takashi loved the sensation of the wind flowing through his sweat-drenched shirt. And he was incredibly lazy.

Hobbling his way out of the estate, he walked under the canopy of shady trees, sneaking peeks from over his teashade glasses to anything that looked vaguely female. It was at that moment that he had the epiphany that it would be a great idea to go to the hot springs. After all, a hot, relaxing dip could do wonders for the pain. On the other hand, he technically was banned for three months; and even though that was not something that would normally even hinder him in the slightest, having found multiple ways to sneak in undetected, he had no fight left in him today. He just wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t deny that walks like these could be relaxing, especially with so many buxom milkmaids about.

Feeling a sudden surge of pain in his thighs, he rested on the bark of a nearby tree; Just as a shinobi slid down the next to him, albeit Takashi was too distracted staring at an accidental flash of stocking and thigh from a ramen stand customer.