Awakened Martial Artist

Byond Name: sykon20

Discord Name: ProfessorNight#2773

Character Name: Mitsuo

Rank you're applying for: Awakened Martial Artist

Why you want to apply for this rank: I've played the Crane Hermit before in previous wipes on other servers. Teaching students is fun, as long as they are willing to learn - And not metagaming my rank and what I can give. Passing on skills to those worthy makes me feel accomplished overall.

Any previous experience with this rank: Yes, as mentioned above. :)

RP:

	"KIKOHO!" a large beam of condensed energy rocketed form an elderly male's hands; which were in an odd triangular cupping motion. It slammed audibly into a dillapidated wall, almost instantly causing it to collapse in on itself. With a pant, he turned away from the slowly collapsing house. It was night but he was sure it wouldn't draw much attention; as he was in what was virtually a ghost town. It had lacked inhabitants for years or so it seemed. Dust covered much of the furniture within the abandoned homes. Or at least the few bits that weren't looted. He was simply practicing his techniques, as he did every day. And figured the house would be a perfect target for it. He made no exceptions to his training routine and would end every session with the Kikoho. However, no matter how many times he used the blasted technique, it would always fatigue him by a specific amount. It was as if it were percentile based, making him feel the same level of exhaustion he had felt upon using it for the first time. But he -could- use it more often than he used to be able to. The Kikoho sucked up your life force and infused it with focused sharp ki in the user's palms. While the amount of life force used would always be the same, and you could never really increase your total amount; the amount did regenerate faster with practice. Or so he found.

"I've dawdled here long enough..." He said, his voice gentle; a soft note of fatigue hidden behind his words as he lowered towards his haunches and grasped a small satchel. "I have to get to where I'm going, to check out that man's son. I doubt he's going to amount to much, but I did say I would come," he thought to himself as he walked south towards the exit of the ghost town of a village. The man stood at a stiff 5'9" feet, his short black hair carefully trimmed, lacking any amount of grease. He was slim, a toned and lithe frame was hidden well underneath his black gi; which had a white kanji encapsulated by a red pentagon on it's back which read "Nirvana," for those whom could read it. He carried himself with a lofty dignity, his arms behind his back, his left hand gripping his right wrist firmly. He radiated sharp but gentle energy, which would unnerve anyone who sensed it; as it has been noted to feel like an Assassin's blade, prepped and at the ready. As if he could draw it at a moment's notice.

Entering a trench surrounded by various trees, he continued his march. His immediate surroundings which were already covered in the night's embrace was further obscured by darker shadows cast by the forest's canopy. Which even hung eerily over the path he walked. Closing his eyes as he walked, he stretched his awareness out 50 feet in every direction to see if he would pick something up. A mess of chakras that would only belong to a Human would pop up in his senses, to the South-west. It was moving in tandem with him, traveling in the same direction. And whoever it was solely locked on him. A flash of disappointment flashed in the man's pale green eyes, but he deigned to ignore it for now. He would normally dispose of whomever it was following him, but giving someone the benefit of the doubt wouldn't hurt.  After all, they could be looking for the path.

An hour later, the person was closer. Barely visible to anyone looking into the trees. A normal person wouldn't see them. A skinny looking man, with wild grey hair, a dagger drawn in his left hand. It looked as if he believed he was still hidden. And normally he would be. It was dark. And where he was made him even harder to see. But he had chosen the worst mark. A cold glint appeared in the Hermit's eyes as he twisted on the heels of his feet in his stalker's direction, his left hand's index finger lifted lazily from his side. "Dodon Ray," a hiss escaped his lips, filled with malice as a thin sharp beam of ki rocketed from the tip of his finger. It pierced the man in his chest, where his heart would be. He would only release a grunt before slumping over; a surprised look on his face as his dagger clattered to the earthen floor below. However his target simply continued on as if nothing happened, and the would-be bandit was left to perish swiftly in the woods; forgotten.

=THREE DAYS LATER=

	At last, he had arrived at his destination, a large bulwark of a gate towering over him with a singular rough-hewn man standing outside of it, staring daggers at him. So far he felt quite welcome here. In the place, he was invited to. He had to note how well put together the walls were. Sharp pointed tips tied together with veins, to keep them nice and firm. The veins were thick, with small sprouts sticking out of them. Not easily cut, and there were too many bindings to realistically deal with the walls without alerting the village. It was an overall clever design. Having gotten lost in thought, he found himself standing a few feet from the gate guard. "Who are you. What brings you to Oaklay. We don't normally get travelers..." The man's voice was full of confidence as if greeting people wasn't anything new to him. However, it did hold a scheming nature to it as well. As if everything wasn't as it seemed on the surface.

"I was invited here by the village head. Mr... Well, Mr. Oaklay... Narcissistic of him to rename the village after himself, isn't it?" the Hermit remarked in a snide manner, waving at the man to step aside. "The admittance fee is approxima-" the guard was swiftly cut off by an open palm chop to his carotid artery. While it wouldn't kill him; he would swiftly choke and fall unconscious. He likely wouldn't get up before the man left with what he had come here for. And it wasn't as if he was invading. Pushing open the gate, he stepped into the village. He didn't bother to shut the gate behind him, as far as he concerned this would be an in and out situation. He didn't expect much from his would-be disciple... But the village was immaculate. Thatched hay roofs, supported by solid lumber. Framed windows of sycamore, with potted plants adorning window sills; rims of curtains visible from within the houses. It was a similar theme for most places. It made it feel like there was a thematic theme to the settlement.

It did radiate a cheerful atmosphere, and it wasn't something he disliked. But he didn't travel all this way for this. Continuing further towards the epicenter of the village, he spotted a large octagonal building. Which he would presume to be the village elder's home. Walking to it forth and giving the sturdy door a swift knock. Just three quick but powerful knocks, shaking the door in the process of trying to get the resident's attention. "I'M COMING, I'M COMING!" an agitated voice drifted from further in as loud stomping reached the Hermit's ears. The door was pried open by an elderly man, gray blooming fully in his long tied back hair, wrinkles spotting his face, and an oddly placed mole on the left side of his face. He stood a bit taller than the Hermit, but not much. "And you are?!" he said, his voice groggy. It was after all early in the morning.

"I have come to assess your child, Oaklay. Bring him out, now." the Hermit's tone brokered no argument, causing the old man to flare up with a brief flash of anger before realization flashed in his aged eyes. Nodding swiftly he vanished into his house, before coming out with a plump child, pushing him roughly from behind. "This is him. This is Edgar. Say hello to our esteemed guest, Edgar!" The older man commanded. Edgar was a stout plump teenager, it was clear he was pampered by his father. Why in the world his dad would want him to go under his tutelage was beyond him. His gaudy teal hair also hurt his eyes, but he figured appearance was hardly important. You could be the most unhealthy looking man alive, and still, strike fear in the heart of millions, or otherwise save the lives of people across the globe. It ultimately came down to your own skill. Edgar nodded and bowed to the Hermit. "Hello, sir... I-I'm Edg-Edgar..." he stumbled over his words as he walked out, his father shutting the door roughly behind him. "Well... Follow me out into the field.. Edgar..." The Hermit spoke; doubt littering his voice at this point.

=A mile out from the village, 30 minutes later=

"Alright, Edgar... I sent your father a small pamphlet explaining to him what I wanted you to do... Did you practice at all, or do I need to instruct you? If you -did- practice, I want you to assume the poses in the pamphlet now." the black-haired teacher commanded plainly. The plump young man immediately dropped down into lotus position, his hands resting over-top his knees, the tips of his index finger and thumbs touching on either side; his eyes closing firmly. "Very good! Alright, I'm going to instruct you on opening your root chakra. Nothing too strenuous, if you can do it I will take you with me." it was as easy as that. That was the only requirement, complete the opening of the Root chakra in one go. Of course, he did -NOT- relay the information on energy control. The boy was expected to be proficient in ki management before even requesting to be taken under his tutelage. Those were the guidelines. So he expected nothing less.

"The Root chakra signifies your connection to your physical body. Your well-being, ability to survive, and being able to ground yourself at the moment. The reason I made you walk so far from your village was to flare up your Root chakra." he continued in a sagely tone, instructing the boy gradually. "The Root chakra is red in color, and many people see a chunk of earth. It's normally dead for people just starting, but I want you to grow grass on it, and bloom a red flower. Do this and you come with me. Fail and die." It was the ultimatum to contest all ultimatums. Wasting his time was worthy of death after all. He had plenty of things to do. And his time was precious. But putting someone in a life or death situation would kick-start their fight or flight response, and spur on increased performance. So it was a win-win either way. And even if he wasn't going to actually kill them, they didn't need to know that now did they? Even if doing so would be just in many people's eyes.

Focusing his energy on his eyes, he'd focus on the boy's chakra points. To his surprise, many of them were dully active already. And the root chakra itself already had specks of grass sprouting from its earthern representation. The boy hadn't even begun yet. So it looked as if he had the natural aptitude for this line of training. Which would explain why his presence was practically demanded. However, the boy's navel chakra was all but dead. Which made sense, as it aided in confidence; which the boy didn't seem to have any. An easy fix were they to get into more serious mentoring. Non the less, he began to watch the boy's actions. To see how he would handle it. And to his surprise, he did exactly what he was supposed to!

The boy was showering his energy directly from his core in gentle sprinkles like rain over his root chakra. Each sprinkle contained condensed and heavy amounts of energy, which would sink into the earth and force up blades of grass, the root of a flower popping up from the center of the mound of dirt. And within a short five minutes, a red flower had bloomed amongst a vast amount of long grass. It was a bit too much grass, but he had accomplished the task he was given with a quickness. Which impressed him, and spoke volumes for Edgar's skill. Nodding slowly in approval he waved his hand. "Enough, you may stand..."

The boy sprung to his feet with new life, his actions much swifter than before. Opening the Root Chakra properly would do that for you, as it was based on the physical body primarily. "Henceforth, you will be my student. This is temporary, and can be revoked at any time should you prove unworthy," sternly speaking he stared down at the plump boy. Edgar nodded, excitement glistening in his beady eyes. "You will adhere to a strict training program, as you will not be permitted to continue opening chakras until your body is in prime condition... And yes. It will suck." he snickered, Edgar looking down-cast. Waving him on he turned away from the village. Being a mentor wasn't terrible, and he would gladly teach the boy if he had the aptitude. "We leave now. No, you won't be going home. You can go home after training. We don't have time to spare," he stated plainly, walking along. Edgar simply stared on dumbfounded.

"Well?" the Hermit turned back staring at the boy; who promptly began to follow him. His father wanted him to go and train with the great Nirvana Hermit. And he would. Even if it meant not seeing him for a long time. Though he was on edge at the threat of dying. Would that be a theme...? It didn't matter. He was stuck with the older man now...

And thus their training continued.