Psyche [Training]

Age : 35 Posts : 1113

Training || Mental || Keen Perception:

Spoiler:

Leaning wearily on the sill, Uriko gazed out through her bedroom window. Rain battered down on land below, sounding out a rhythmic drumbeat on the roof of the house. The kunoichi could have sworn she'd seen a flash of lightning in the distance - the rumbling heavens certainly suggested it. She sighed in disappointment. It was no climate to be heading out to train in, that was for sure. She'd planned on continuing her journey through the north of Ta no Kuni, finding the best places, spaces and terrain to hone her abilities. Already having dispatched a large group of mercernary-like louts and three enforcers from Otogakure, the kunoichi had been given quite the workout without even trying. The stormy weather wouldn't usually stop her, but she was meant to rest as the serum she'd injected herself with cleansed her system. Her injuries had more or less healed and the substance she'd taken was mere precaution against potential infections. Besides, whilst the couple downstairs remained unconscious, there was no reason not to enjoy their hospitalities. It had been many a year since Uriko had slept on something as comfortable as the large bed behind her and in the kitchen, there were plenty of luxuries she was also unused to. In weather such as this, it was a welcome comfort. The rain cascaded down the glass, distorting the view of the outside world. Not that the heavy, grey clouds allowed much light through to see by. Tapping her fingers on the window, the woman cocked her head, drifting off into in her own thoughts.

Eighteen... nineteen... twenty. Surrounded. Under normal circumstances, Uriko would have been taken aback by her opponent's skill. But this was the Chuunin exam finals, and the very last match. Her opponent was Isamu, the pride of Iwagakure and the favourite to take this match. His clones stood still, glaring at the woman as their master strolled in amongst the replications, a confident smile on his youthful features. Uriko cast a sweeping glance over her many, many targets. Primarily a taijutsu user, she knew it'd be difficult to engage this many opponents at once and was immediately concerned by the level of this fight. However, the clones all seemed unwilling to attack, which meant that Isamu was restraining himself too. The wily kunoichi couldn't help but wonder why. She was outnumbered and from watching her previous matches, the boy knew she relied heavily on taijutsu and would find engaging so many targets at once almost impossible. Something was amiss, and Uriko was determined to discover what. Quick as a flash, she unlatched her item pouch and released three kunai, each in different directions but all targeting one of the clones. The projectiles were barely halfway to their targets when a fist came screaming in toward the woman's face. Reacting instinctively she deflected the blow with her forearm. Over her assailant's shoulder she noticed one of the kunai disappear through a still unmoving clone, causing its form to ripple slightly. Genjutsu.She thought silently to herself. The clones were mere illusions! With the realisation, she pushed Isamu from her with a sharp knee strike and instantly formed a clasped seal. "Kai!" She cried sharply, watching with satisfaction as the illusion collapsed. Only the Isamu before her remained, his furrowed brow evidence of his irritation at her discovery. "Nice try." She teased, leaping forward and delivering a powerful heel kick to the boy's shoulder. He was sent tumbling away, crashing into the wall. But there was no time to celebrate. Upon impact, the body dissolved into the air and Uriko felt cold metal pressed against her neck. "Nice try." A smug voice whispered in her ear.

"Ngh." The kunoichi exclaimed, thumping her fist against the window sill. Uriko hadn't revisited her memories from her life before criminality for some time. This one in particular left a nasty taste in her mouth. It had been her first true brush with Genjutsu and she hadn't come out on top. At the time the woman had accepted her loss, but now... "Pah." She muttered, dismissing the memory. She knew it didn't help to dwell on the past. Settling the score with Isamu was a long-standing item on her personal 'to-do list', one that had fallen by the wayside after other events had got in the way. She had managed almost daily mental training however, steeling herself against such techniques for when she finally got round to gutting the man. Shaking herself from the torpor and padding back to the bed, she settled atop of the covers, crossing her legs and sitting up straight. The kunoichi would have argued about the qualities of meditative training, but as a former member of the Nagase clan she was well-versed in using these to control her negation abilities. Much as she hated to admit it, this form of training had its uses. Exhaling slowly, she allowed her mind to wander, trying to sink into her own subconscious. Full control over her own mind gave Uriko a cast-iron defence against illusory techniques. Able to separate the fantasies from reality she could at least identify Genjutsu. A strong will and keen focus were required to dispel them with the release technique. That, or considerable pain to shock the body from the illusion. Given the woman's high pain threshold, it was easier for her to use dispelling Ninjutsu than to stab herself, for instance. And so, she found herself walking the twisted corridors of her own mind whilst her body sat almost lifeless on the bed.

As if in a dream, time passed without the woman being consciously aware of it. Minutes became hours and the hours soon accumulated. After about two hours of total stillness, Uriko took a deep breath. The atmosphere in the room started to heat up, the air feeling a little like it contained static charge. The meditating kunoichi seemed nonplussed, remaining in precisely the same position. There was no apparent change in anything else within the room, either. The strange sensation was in fact a side effect of the female shinobi's meditation. Drawing chakra out of her body, she was manipulating it to keep her consciousness buried within her own psyche. Without doing so, she would have naturally awoken at roughly the two-hour mark. As one might suspect, this forced method was not without risk. Practitioners had been known to, on occassion, struggle to return to reality and normal functioning. Those few had fallen into comatose states and been unable to wake. Luckily, this danger was more prevalent in those new to the process. Since Uriko had been enforcing her meditation for years without consequence, she didn't forsee any danger. Somewhere deep within, the kunoichi was essentially breaking into her own mind. The training put her subconscious' natural defenses to the test, forcing them to react to the intrusion. Regardless of the medium through which an illusion was cast, Genjutsu ultimately tricked the mind, never anything else. Staging such an intrusion trained her psyche to identify and resist this. The method had other uses too, though the female nukenin rarely called upon them. If she wished, the woman could recall any information her conscious or subconscious mind had stored, given enough time to find it. This was not a jutsu of any sort, simply a feat of memory enhanced by heightened cognitive states. Of course, Uriko had to tread carefully. There was much that she needed to stay buried.

The air was thick now, carrying the sensation of finely controlled chakra. A bedside clock documented the four hours Uriko had been sat in the one place, honing her mind to the exclusion of all else. It wasn't a regular practice of hers, to continue for this long. But the recollection of her first defeat at the hands of an illusion-wielder had triggered something in her. She had felt compelled to push herself this time. Downstairs, the married couple were showing signs of coming around. They stirred regularly now, on the brink of waking. Yet Uriko did nothing, still engaged with her own consciousness. If the pair awoke and found her as she was now, they could alert the authorities without the female criminal ever knowing. Half an hour passed. Downstairs, an arm slipped from the edge of the bed the kunoichi had lain her hosts on. It connected lightly with the carpeted floor and a pair of hazel eyes flickered open. The wife had awoken first and after regaining her bearings, she'd set about rousing her husband. He took a few minutes to rise, still groggy from the anaesthetic. They spoke in whispers, obviously aware of what the kunoichi had pulled. The man headed upstairs, whilst the wife sought their messenger bird. The husband was two-thirds of the way upstairs when a shriek emanated from a distant room downstairs. The woman had discovered their slain falcon, lying cold on the wooden awning. Uriko had put security measures in place, of course. The distressed yell had penetrated the trace-like state of the kunoichi, whose eyes snapped open and head immediately turned to the muted steps drawing closer across the landing. Snatching her items from the desktop, she lashed them to her waist in an instant. At the same moment, the bedroom door swung open and the husband stepped tentatively into the room. The pair locked eyes for a fleeting second, before Uriko darted forward and threw herself out of the window. The man's shoulders slumped in relief. His reprive was short-lived. Catching sight of the two sealed tags fluttering on the wall, already ignited. Some two hundred metres away, Uriko gave silent thanks for the pair's hospitality. It was a pity they had woken, but the kunoichi would probably have had to kill them anyway. This method was simply... messier.

[Word Count = 1634/1600].