Solo Training || Blytraviin Rosemarius || Budō (Day 1)

A new day dawned at Konoha's shinobi school, and by dawned, at least for one of the school's newest students, it meant that the first hints of light touched the sky and spread above her head. From a lifetime of early chores, right from when she could walk, Rosemarius had trained her senses to notice the first light of the day and pull her from a generally dreamless sleep. She came awake with just a blink and not even a yawn; yawning was for when she was tired and she always made certain to start sleeping early so that she could be fully alert when she wanted to be the next day. She tries to roll out of bed silently, but the beds in the school are higher than those at home and a soundless touch of the ground is replaced with a rather meaty kerthump as she falls on her side. She lay there a moment and sighed, but there was a small smile on her lips instead of an expression of prim disdain or annoyance. I've just barely awoken and I've already found a thing to improve upon, she says to herself as she picks herself off the ground and brushes off all the imagined particles of dust and dirt before turning to her bed. Making the bed and making it well is always the first element of a well-ordered day of improvement, she tells herself. She'd read the admonition in a book once, and it seemed like a sensible idea: if you started with doing something correctly and well from the moment you awakened, it set the tone for the rest of the day and gave you an inherent spirit of accomplishment. And so she makes her bed, noting how this corner could be sharper or that edge could be straighter but the point was, the bed was made and from there she could make herself ready in other ways: bathe, clean her teeth, eat a small meal, and dress herself... and one other thing.

There was precious little that was distinct about Rosemarius. She had a slightly narrow face and amethyst eyes and a hooked nose, but the thing that made her stand out was the design she drew on her face each morning, a thick symmetrical thing that framed the lower edge of her eyes and swept down to points just in front of the clench of her jaw. She looked in the mirror at this, gave herself a nod of approval, and then moved on to her other mark of distinction: the three bands in her long ponytail with a different colored bead on each. The first bead was red and it went on first and was closest to her head. The second was green and was placed in the middle, a precise distance from the first--or at least as close to a precise distance as she could get just judging it with her eyes. The last is white and the band it's on is woven through several turns of the hair to create something like a solid ball at the end of the ponytail. Having done this, she promptly tucks the entire thing into the back of her shirt; it wouldn't do to give anyone an anchor or handhold on her, as long experience with other children had taught in a painful fashion.

Having made herself ready in all respects, Rosie takes writing supplies and heads to the library. One of the first things she'd made sure to find out when she'd arrived with her parents the previous day was the exact moment that the keeper of the school's library opened it for the day and she'd been ecstatic that the librarian was an early riser like she was. She must come from the crafts as well, she said to herself as she tried the door and found it open, and then entered. She directed a quick but formal bow of respect towards the woman just now sitting at her desk and then made straight for the books. Not the books and scrolls of technique, at least not yet, but the ones that discussed more esoteric subjects like philosophy and history. An initial scouting expedition of the shelves the previous day had confirmed that there were many scrolls discussing perspectives on the ninja way and the training of shinobi, and Rosemarius selected one of these and took it to a table to begin reading it and taking notes.

There is a Way to all that a shinobi does, she read silently. Each shinobi has their own Ninja Way, their own personal mindset and goals and how they choose to be better and greater than they are, and yet there are things that unite all of these personal ways. By a distant land called 'kungfu', it is known among shinobi as Budō and is the way of self-improvement, self-mastery, and fighting with virtue instead of as a brute. Budō is not only the Way of the shinobi, however, but the way of every person who strives for a goal and immerses themselves in the mastery of self and of a particular skill. The potter practices Budō as he kicks his wheel just enough so that the pot forms perfectly between his hands in a single motion, and he practices it as his fine touch makes the mound into art almost at the same instant he touches it. The butcher practices Budō as he carves fine cuts of meat without scoring the bone, and the weaver as she renders a span of cloth without a single tangle or knot. The shinobi who practices Budō will always be assured of a task and a purpose, for there is not a single thing in a single day that cannot be made more perfect and in this perfection in the tiniest things, the shinobi extends a spirit of perfection over the greater things as well. The shinobi who is clean in body and in mind and free of mental clutter is one that makes his chakra flow like the water from an urn, giving exactly enough to do what he must without wasting any. The shinobi who nourishes his body well will find a greater vigor in himself to fight his battles and to do as he must that day. Even in the grooming of the hair, the making of the bed, the flow of his hand as he writes, the shinobi extends perfection over the entire day and this flow of perfection continues as the river and allows him to master with greater ease those things in which me might have hitherto struggled.

All of these elements make Budō for the shinobi, but they are not the only things. Every student must make himself aware of himself and the ways that he can improve and master everything even more completely, and this is part of Budō as well. But above all, the shinobi finds Budō in the results of this mindset and the end goals of this Way when he is placed in battle against his enemy. The brute flails away at the foe in rage and seeks his destruction in body, but the brute is a simple creature who can only destroy and crush underfoot, who will invite the wrath and vengeance of every person that loved or allied to the enemy that he broke; this is not the Way that a shinobi fights. The ultimate end in Budō is that the shinobi strikes always with purpose, taking into himself the pain that he will inflict and holding it in his heart, and then extending that pain outwards to his foe so that each strike is greater than the last and each comes out of a moment of thought and of consideration. The virtuous blow is one that must be and because it must be, it must strike true and because it must strike true, it must strike deeply and wound deeper than the body. The shinobi, thus, does not break his foe as the brute does but wounds the spirit and turns his enemy towards a path that enlarges the shinobi in either mercy or victory in the fight. Only in this can the shinobi achieve the pinnacle of wisdom and perfection: he wins each battle before he fights it and the perfect victory is victory gained before the foe is ever seen and gained without fighting at all. It was said by a great teacher that the enemy most defeated is the enemy that becomes a friend, whose pain resonates with the pain of the shinobi and whose joys are the shinobi's as well. It is in this gaining of allies that the shinobi encompasses Budō fully and comes to understand all that the Way might instruct him in.

{Word Count: 1465 for EXP}

Rosemarius finishes writing and puts the brush down, leaning over to blow gently over the drying ink and look critically at the quality of her strokes. They were acceptable for the moment but as the scroll had said, perfecting the tiniest things made it easier to perfect the greater things and perfecting the quality of her writing ability was something she'd long wanted, to do but hadn't a chance because of the demands of learning the craft and doing all of the necessary chores. Perhaps I can do it while I'm at this school, she thinks as she gently rolls the scroll up and caps it, putting it back in its designated place. She then rolls up the paper she'd been writing on and binds it in a tube with a length of twine and bids the librarian farewell. The visit, she realized, was actually quite brief but she felt that what she read had expanded her mind and spirit... and now was the time to expand her body. For this, she chooses a corner of the school grounds that she believes will allow her to remain undisturbed and then she starts her more physical training. The first element is doing a series of stretches and limbering, slowly acclimating her muscles to the work that she plans to do shortly. For this, each limb is held out and then moved slowly backwards against its natural direction of movement until she feels the strain and holds it... and then pushes more. Each limb receives this patient treatment, pushed backwards against the direction until it's just short of actual pain, and then held to the limit of her current endurance. Even her fingers are subjected to the systemic preparation. because it's difficult to train well if you cannot grasp things or your hand rebel against the natural movements of training such as blows.

When she's thoroughly limbered, she sits facing a rock with an overhanging lip and then tucks her toes under that lip to act as an anchor, and then commences crunches and sit-ups. She does it steadily, even after her body becomes used to the repetitives motion, separating her mind from the tasks of her body and permitting it to roam over her thoughts and what she gained from the scroll. To begin perfection, I need to work on perfecting the first weapon I have and the only weapon I'll never lose: this body. I may not be the boy child that Mother and Father needed for the work, but perhaps that's a blessing to me because if it was easy to heft and move the blocks, if it was simple to cut them precisely, if it required no effort to begin making pottery out of the raw clay, I'd be less driven to push myself to the outer limits of what I can do. And if I hadn't been pushed by my circumstances, it is very possible that my gift for chakra would be unrealized and although it's a noble enough endeavor, I'd have been forever deprived of my full ability and contented myself always with making fine works of pottery, ceramics, and other items of clay.

She smiles a little at herself as she switches to doing cross-touch sit-ups, twisting her body fluidly back and forth as she goes up and down. Where would I be without such silly and simple things as sweeping thrice to make sure the floor is clean, or walking a dog for the neighbor, or clearing stray pebbles from the clay beds so that the raw clay would be pure and require no close inspection when it came time to cut it? It's amazing how correct the philosophy of this 'Budō' is, and how closely it fits my personal experiences. I'm sure that as we go along in this school, we'll receive tasks that are small and silly and seem to have no purpose but to make us busy but... would it be so different than growing up as the daughter of a skilled potter? I have every reason to accept and believe in the simple tasks because they made me what I am, and who I am, and may yet make me who I want to be.

The latest thought makes her stop in mid-movement as she quickly shut down the physical exertion so she could think about that thought. But what do I want to be? A ninja, without question, but what sort of ninja? Just walking into the school, I could see ninja who use their hands to shatter stone and others that fight with cunning puppetry and still others who mend broken bone with a touch. She gets up from her sitting position and turns over, placing her hands on the ground and straightening her body before resting on her knees and beginning to push herself up from the ground against the force of gravity. The change in repetitive movement interrupted her thinking a moment but also cleared her thoughts, as she knew from long experience that it would. Well, I suppose there is one form of ninja art that I know I'll want to imitate, and that will most certainly be the use of a sword or other weapon as part of my fighting. It'll be an excellent backup for the perfection of my first weapon and I'm sure there's ways to extend my chakra out along the blade and even outside of it to magnify the power of each stroke. Plus, it will allow me to indulge myself in craftsmanship and after my growing up, crafting things would be going back to what I am most used to, what I love best. I think that the Budō of the potter, of the butcher, of the weaver, and of the swordsmith are the Budō that will help me perfect myself. She lifts her knees so that she's now doing push-ups on the tips of her toes. Ultimately, what I am and what I adore most of myself is that I am a craftsman's daughter. I woke up every day to push myself towards that craft and as time went on, I learned to make my hands and mind flow with the clay and render it into the shapes that pleased me. I'm certain that just like that clay, I'll be able to mold and render and shape my body into the form that will give me the possibility of great achievement.

And yet my body can be shaped into whatever I need for it to be... so what do I need for it to be? She gives herself an extra shove on the latest push-up and brings her knees forward for extra thrust so she can be pushed upright. She then places her palms on the ground and gathers her feet under her before rising and looking about the yard. Heh, no one's awake yet... ah, the glories of rising at the first light, to avoid all the silly and lazy and train myself without their distraction and interference. Not that I'd mind 'interference' from a teacher, even a very silly and useless one, because even the dumbest adult can accidentally impart something useful to me. As Father always said, 'Even in the drunken babblings of an idiot, there are things to hear and know and learn.' Well, on to the running part. She smiles broadly and truly. My favorite part, really. There is such a feeling of peace and flow in running, one step leading to the next, one motion leading to another, everything carrying me forward from where I am to where I wish to be. If nothing else, I will be a fast shinobi, faster than anyone else that I know of. I can think of no better way of fighting than to seem to be one place and the another without crossing the space in between. Of course I'll know that I outran their ability to see and maybe even outran their ability to respond, but they most certainly won't. What was it the scroll said? The shinobi's goal is to wound their spirit and make them follow the path that leads to the shinobi's desires and victory? Starting at the rock where she did her sit-ups, Rosie picks the opposite corner of the yard and jogs to it at a nice vigorous pace, and then does the same to the next edge of the yard and then the next, building a track and a circuit for herself to follow.

Yes, I believe that's what the scroll said. So I think I would shape my body and mind towards speed, being quick of movement and quick of thought. I would be quick to comprehend and quick to act as well so that even if there was someone who was faster than me, they would never be able to be so fast that I an unable to notice their speed and incapable of responding to it within a reasonable frame. But if I'm to be fast, I must also be very precise or there's no reason to be fast. Running about and flailing uselessly is no shinobi way, and I certainly have no plans to make such a fool of myself so as to follow such a path. Mother and Father would be saddened to hear of it and more saddened to read of it and see it. She sighs in between her regular breaths as she jogged. Ah, Mother and Father, Father and Mother... how great of parents they've been to me. They wished for their son and yet fully embraced their daughter and have never stopped dreaming of seeing me rise above it all and become the greatest and best. I'm not sure I can be greatest and best at all things, but perhaps I can be greatest at this thing and in so doing, honor my parents' faith. I will believe in myself and believe in my training, and in each and every task and then, I'll be fastest and most precise and deft in everything I do. So determined, she increases the pace of her jogging, panting a little and puffing as she goes, working up to the "runner's high" that will help her continue to jog vigorously along the edge of the yard. She knows when the high comes: the world seems momentarily clearer and some fatigue drops away. The endorphins flood her and the surge of delight in the exertion causes her to smile just a little and push herself to go even faster than she has before. The fire of tiredness in her legs flares ever higher but it doesn't matter: right now, there is just speed and the breeze against her face and the certain knowledge in her mind that the pain will be passing and with every moment she endures, she will be stronger after.

All too suddenly, the high ends and she momentarily stumbles at the surge of fatigue in her legs but she recovers her balance, the natural deftness in her hands that comes of her growing up learning a craft extending to some extent to her entire self. She grits her teeth and forces herself onwards, sweating now but running to outpace the onset of cramping that would come from doing what her body demands and merely stopping. She alters her course away from her circuit, however, and towards a tree she'd marked on one of her circuits of the yard, one with strong but low limbs that she can wrap her hands around. Virtually without a pause, she hauls herself up to chin level and then lets herself fall back down. She does this again, and again, and keeps doing this until she reaches ten repetitions and then she lowers herself to the ground, leaning back against the tree and breathing hard from her efforts so far. "The... sun comes up now..." she smiles. "The first day of classes at this school and I feel ready for this challenge. No... no... far more than ready, I think I will be eager for this challenge and all I might accomplish." She spreads her arms and then moves them in gripping her shoulders in her hands before returning them to her sides. "I wonder if I have time to consult a scroll quickly for some training techniques. Perhaps... the training for solid blows..." She consults the sun and grins. "I'm tired, and weary of this... no time for extra techniques but to ready myself for a day of instruction by teachers and annoyance by my peers? I've time for that." Squaring her shoulders, she reenters the school and makes herself ready for the day, bathing away the sweat and dirt of her morning calisthenics and dressing in a new set of clothes.

{Word Count: 2128 for EXP}