Konohagakure || Morning Time
Long, arcing whisps of cherry-scented smoke slowly rose from an oak pipe, drifting breezily through the small drafts of wood in the ceiling. An old weary, and aged face puffed on the stem of the simple pleasure, inhaling the harmful smoke deep into his lungs, before blowing it out gently through the stem, and out through the end of the pipe. His tired, yet resolute brown eyes were deep and conflicted as he stared at the rising smoke, leaning back slightly in his chair.
"It's that time of the year." His voice, albeit weathered and lined from years of service - from years of fighting, heartache, and love - managed to stay calm, as he twisted his leather seat around to stare out the large window that showcased the entirety of Konohagakure.
At this time, people were getting up, ready to start their day anew. The sun shone bright in the morning sky, and it seemed as if no one could break the haze of optimism the sun seemed to showcase...if only. The village seemed...somber, somehow. No...not somber, but tired. Experienced. Ready. The years of peace may have rotted them slightly, but they could see - no, feel the tension in the air. Soon, it would be time to evacuate and defend. The time to shut down the shops, the markets, the homes, the orphanages...and pick up their tools of war. Already, he could see the blurring, hazy forms of ANBU operatives constantly alighting the rooftops with their speed, steely gazes shining from under their masks as they searched for any suspicious figure. It was only a matter of time.
Truly, a matter of time. He turned around, and gazed down at what seemed to merely be a small mirror sewn into the oaken wood of his desk - but it was not for vanity, but for practicality. As his chakra spiked momentarily, alerting the four ANBU currently standing guard within the shadowy corners of his office, the Hokage looked down into the mirror. The Academy's class was shown - more specifically, the Rookie Nine's classroom. They would lead the new generation, and show if Konoha was ready. But...for now, he would watch, wait, and plan. They would show them their potential...and develop into fine Shinobi, ready to fight the oncoming war...or they would perish, the females becoming nothing more but pleasure slaves for the enemy - the spoils, while the men worked their entire mortal life in the mines, mining coal for the enemy, until their frail, deprived bodies failed them, and they died of rot, disease, and depravity without a grave or a tear fallen in their honor.
"In these times...the youth are what defines us." Hidoma murmured into the silence. Subtle shiftings of shadows showed that his trusted shinobi agreed.
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"Fifty."
He had been up for a while.
Satoshi's face dripped with sweat, as the boy concentrated dutifully on his task. He wore nothing but a pair of form-fitting, mesh underbriefs, allowing his lean, muscular, and compact body to sweat the necessary liquids so as to not overheat. The boy defied gravity, his feet sticking, chakra-enhanced, to his room's dark blue wall as he went through the necessary movements.
"Sixty."
His upper torso folded up, his defined abs bulging and tensing as he kept to regular the chakra in his feet, all the while performing another crunch that made his front torso feel as if it was on fire. He had to keep going - he had to, until he got to one-hundred. Only then would he allow himself a shower, before he continued his training on the way to the academy. The academy itself did nothing to train him sufficiently for the cold, bloody world out there, but the theoretical knowledge would help him in any exams. Recently, a few years ago, they had upped the training ante, but he felt as if it still wasn't enough.
"Eighty."
This was his third set; meaning he had done two-hundred before, accompanied by three hundred chakra-sticking pushups on the ceiling. It was taxing, yet necessary work. For him to completely master his created Shunpo, and eventually become the ANBU Captain...he would need to master his body. His body, mind, and spirit; both the spiritual and physical side.
"One-hundred."
With controlled movements, Satoshi slowly allowed the chakra to stop flowing towards his feet, allowing him to nimbly flip off of the wall and land lightly on his slightly reddened feet. Feeling a bit numb, but good, Satoshi sighed and rolled his neck. His lightning blue eyes caught the clock, which hung on the wall, over his desk.
'Ten minutes until I'm late.' Easy.
His shower only took three minutes, and Satoshi opened his closet, picking out his state of apparel from a complete, practical wardrobe- literally no bright colors were evident. Grabbing a fishnet undershirt, he slid it on, before grabbing a form-fitting, yet compact, dark black mesh long-sleeved shirt. similarly-colored pants, with a multitude of pockets promptly followed, along with dark shinobi sandals. A leafy green vest followed - given to him by his father, whom wore it in his Jounin days. Satoshi rolled up his sleeves, before slipping on his fingerless gloves - the right one having his fore-head protector sewn into the thick black material. He hesitated on his last article of clothing - but immediately after, he grabbed a silver stud and slipped it onto his ear - it was metal, and could be useful.
Finished, Satoshi strapped his necessary equipment onto his person before nodding. His parents and clansmen didn't need to be warned. They knew that he wasn't one for being late. Channeling the ram seal, he disappeared in a gust of leaves.
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If anyone noticed him enter the room, they didn't show it. Satoshi, in an effort to work on his already exemplary skills, had used a bit of acrobatics to get on the roof. He then focused, and a brief-second later, disappeared in a Kawarimi, replaced with a small thumb-tack that had been placed in his seat a day ago. There was absolutely no smoke, and he mentally applauded himself; he had made sure to brutally master the most simplest of the techniques; they were the most useful, his remedial teacher had drilled into his brain.
Noting that there weren't too many people in the classroom yet, Satoshi leaned forward and stapled his fingers in front of his face, lighting-blue eyes narrowed. Now...to wait.