The Harsh Tutelage of Saito-Sensei (Masami)

[walkerm]

She was back at the oasis. It was, she was finding, Masami's favored location for training. It was where their first training meeting had been, and it was where all subsequent meetings - training or otherwise - had been hosted. It seemed excessive, Mizuki thought, that Masami-sensei would force his Genin to regularly trek through the desert out to the oasis every time he wanted them all to meet, but, then again, it was probably because he thought it built character.

Mizuki sneered slightly at that. Ha! Character. There were a lot of things that the Jounin made them do and told them that, really, quite frankly, in all honesty, made no sense at all. Half the time, Mizuki thought her Jounin-sensei was just talking for the sake of talking, filling the air with the empty sounds of his own bullshit; other times, she thought he really was saying something, and that she was just too stupid to understand what he was trying to tell them all. The latter half was depressing, and she tried not to dwell on that if she could help it.

The question seemed to be, why, oh why, in the great, wide, vast world, was she standing at the oasis by herself. The answer to that, was, quite simply, she'd been told to. Complain though she might (in private, generally speaking), Mizuki still did what the shinobi told her to. The whyfors? She'd approached the man with the request that he, uh, help her train. He'd told them to do it, after all, and despite it taking several weeks for her to work up her nerve to do so, Mizuki had asked. And he had agreed, telling her to meet her at such and such time on so and so day.

What he was going to teach her, she had no idea. Indeed, she was even a little bit nervous. The usual anxieties were there: what if she couldn't learn it? What if he gave up on her? What if he never showed up? What if he had changed his mind and was busy training Daisuke and Shouten in secret? At that thought, she frowned. That would have been the worst, she thought, if they were having a Man Party and were deliberately excluding her. It would be so unfair, too.

[Masami Saito]

After the impression he had made on his team with his first exercise, in all honestly Masami Saito had not expected any of them to be willing work further with them. He had seen it happen time and time again; had heard about it from his friends, back when he had friends. If a teacher disciplines his students with too strict a hand, or leads them to hesitate before speaking up with him, the close bond between them would never develop as it should. At the time, his opinion had been that such a phenomenon couldn't be true; he would never have dreamed of keeping away from his sensei, regardless of how he'd treated him. He had been an idealist who believed that raising a team would be no difficulty, and that there was truly nothing for him to worry about. That children would take to adults as if they'd known each other for years, and that the immaturity of a group of Genin wouldn't factor into things. Time had changed him, and although he now considered himself wiser, he also recognized the negatives to the way in which he tended to behave these days. Now, he had no desire to develop the aforementioned 'bond' with any of these children. He didn't want them to be close to him. If they chose to keep to themselves, then it would be their own life they threw away. He would harbor no guilt, no ill feelings, and especially no irritating memories of what seemed to be the good.

It had thus been something of a surprise when he'd come into contact with the one he believed harbored the most ill feelings of any of them. Mizuki Shiga. Masami would not call her a mystery to him; no, with his pride, he would call very few things in this life a true mystery to him. However, of the three, he felt as if he understood the least about her. He anticipated that this would not be true for long, however. As he'd stated before, there were few things that brought two shinobi closer together than engaging one another in battle. Masami's training, as any casual observer could tell, was more of a battle than a lesson. He was a firm believer in the effectiveness of necessity when it comes to invention. If the choice was either learning a particular technique, or experiencing harm, nine times out of ten the learner would force themselves to choose the former. That is, so long as they weren't a weakling that would simply run from the lesson. For all Masami knew, this girl could be such a weakling. If this were the case, however, that was merely one less thing for him to worry about.

Worry. Yes, since the girl had approached him, Masami had been feeling the ghost of what he used to call worry in his mind. He had been able to calm himself enough to compeltely analyze what had happened in their first training session, and wasn't going in blind in regards to his own inhibitions this time. Yes, the girl had a certain effect on him due to what had happened. However, he was not going to allow himself to become a stagnant and ineffective teacher due to this simple misfortune. He had heard of such phenomena before. Trauma caused the mind to do many things, and among these things was invent bonds that were never established. Any similarity in look or behavior would force the mind to perceive the situation in a different manner than was real. Masami had long understood the disconnect that the mind could have from reality. He'd manipulated this disconnect countless times over the years, bending other shinobi to his will due to his complete understanding of how to best break a man, psychologically. Forcing an enemy to lose the will to fight was often just as effective as defeating the enemy outright. There was a reason he was known for his ability and ingenuity, and he prided himself on this.

However, here he was, a victim of the very thing he had made light of for the entirety of his career, and the irony of the situation was definitely not lost on him. However, there were certain things that a proper shinobi must be able to look past to fulfill their objective. Like it or not, his objective from this point on was the training and education of these children. There had only been a select few instances in which he had failed to complete something he set out to do, and he had no intention of adding to that list. As such, when the oasis came into view as he walked at an even pace, he didn't take his eyes off the girl for a moment. If he were to leave the past in the past, then he would need to get used to this sight. The two looked so very similar, but this wasn't such a surprise. In fact, he should have been expecting it. Blaming himself for his own lack of foresight, he prepared himself for the lesson at hand.

The sun was high in the sky, as it was so often in the very heart of the desert. Masami hardly noticed the temperature anymore; it was just one of those things about life that one had to adapt to. In fact, he felt somewhat blessed to be living where he did. Both the scalding days and the frigid nights prepared his body in a way that very few environments could have. His body, though evenly tanned and lean from his years living and working in the Sand, still seemed somewhat compacted; almost as if the man never drew himself to his full stature which, in actuality, was somewhat true. Luckily for the girl, there seemed to be something of a cool breeze blowing, as the Jounin's jet black hair blew haphazardly with its flow, seeming almost to serve as a foil for his stoic expression. Feeling the shuriken around his neck press against him, carving even further into a wound already years old, Masami approached the oasis, matching any gaze directed to him by his student with unmoving, yet at the same time surprisingly unjudging, eyes.

Finally arriving at the edge of said oasis, Masami removed his two sheaths, along with his trench coat, adopting a surprisingly casual look when compared to how he behaved and how he had acted toward his team previously. Speaking as he did this without looking at her, Masami made his intentions for the beginning of their meeting clear. ”Since you came to me in an effort to get help, I came under the assumption that you needed me to craft something of a lesson for you. However, if you have a particular area on which you'd like to improve in mind, feel free to say so now, so as to not waste what time we have.”

[walkerm]

Small grains of sand fluttered about, swirling around her feet as a gentle breeze blew through the desert oasis. The sensation of the sandy-filled breeze coasting over her toes tickled, it did, and were she to flex her toes, she would encounter the only too familiar sensation of rubbing against a gritty surface. Elsewhere, the wind would shape the sand to its whim, building and destroying the sandy knolls that were a hallmark of the land and a dangerous traitor to those foolish enough to attempt to use them as landmarks. The wind itself was a blessing, for the day was sunny, and hot. The breeze was warm, of course – everything in the desert was some sort of warm – but it was infinitely better than the alternative of standing heat. Of those were many, and any desert dweller knew to appreciate the moments passing gentle breezes while they could. Of course, any desert dweller worth their salt also knew to be on the lookout for sandstorms. Such was the place they lived, hostile to humans and far harsher an environment than could be find in almost any other village.

Already, her skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat, a testament to the temperature. Her water jug had been nearly emptied during the journey to the oasis, and she’d filled it up again only to half empty it in her wait for the Jounin shinobi in charge of her Genin team. The wait was beginning to drag on, and, not for the first time since she’d requested a training session from the man, Mizuki wondered if he would show up. He had said that he would, and in truth she had no reason to suspect that he would not be a man of his word, yet she wondered. There had been a great many disappointments in the girl’s life, some more painful than others, and over time she had come to trust less and less the people around her. It seemed hypocritical of the Shiga child to carry on distrusting folks when, not too long ago, she had been spouting words of conviction in respect to the importance of she and her teammates working together, and certainly, being as they were Team Masami, the Jounin should fit into that dynamic. There was a distinction in her mind, however, and that was the belief that teamwork and cooperation did not equal complete and total trust. She did not know these people, did not know what motivated them, what their strengths and weaknesses in battle were, and they had given her no true reason to even begin to give them her trust.

Beyond the fact that they were to be teammates, that was.

Well, that, and the girl was developing a growing lack of faith in the man she called Sensei in direct correlation with the amount of time that lapsed. She had, at some point, begun to grow irritated, and in her irritation had begun to form unfavorable thoughts directed towards the Jounin. He was making her wait. Of all the things in all the world, barring spiders, there was perhaps nothing that the Suna Genin detested more than being made to wait. There was something discourteous about it that just rankled at her sensibilities, and, being the generally impatient person that she was, it had a tendency on her end to come across as a smack to the face. “Haha, you had to wait ‘cause you’re not as important as some other things.” It was an unfair assessment, to be honest – there were any myriad of factors that could have determined the punctuality of a person: death in the family, death of self, hostile attack, missions from the Kazekage himself, the Shukaku going batshit crazy. One thing was certain though – things had to be pretty catastrophic for people to adequately justify unpunctuality. Anything less than was just an excuse, and would not be excused. Of course, then again, who was she to excuse or unexcuse someone such as the Mirage of the Desert. A lowly Genin? Ha! Who would listen to her?

No one, was the answer that whispered in the back of her head. Least of all her sand-blind Sensei of whom she’d rather suspected wasn’t going to show up for the express reason of ‘he couldn’t be bothered.’

When the Jounin finally came into view, you can likely imagine that it was something of a surprise to the girl who waited. His appearance heralded the joint arrival of renewed irritation – something along the lines of “Oh, you finally bothered to show up,” – as we as what could only be expressed as a stark relief – relief that he’d actually come, that he had not left her behind, hadn’t blown off her request. There was the fear that Masami favored either Daisuke or Shouten – or perhaps both – over her, and thus didn’t consider her as worthy of his time. Again, it was unfounded based on the previous actions of these three individuals, and yet again, that did not stop her from worrying. Her reaction to his anticipated and somewhat doubted appearance, then, was to scramble to her feet from out under the scrubby shrub she’d been resting beneath quick as lightning, very much in a hurry to stand at attention for man who would teach her. Once detangled and free to move how she willed, it was of course the next natural thing to bow to him in as formal a movement as she could manage (which was not much, sadly; she had rather neglected the kunoichi aspect of shinobi training at the Academy), and then to uttere, again in as formal a greeting as she could manage, the single, yet meaningful, ”Sensei,”

Her greeting was by and large unnoticed, or so it seemed to the young girl – upon perceiving such, she of course felt the slight sting of rejection, and the sense that she was not worthy. Yet, he approached, and that was something. What, remained to be seen, but it was something. He had been looking at her as he walked into the oasis, and had briefly met her eyes before she looked away in consternation, looking instead at his feet, watching the sandals rise and fall as he moved in a sort of rolling gait that was rather unique to human beings. With the great stride afforded to him by grace of his substantial height, it really didn’t take him very long at all to reach a position he deemed suitably close to her, in which case, he halted dead in his tracks. He’d barely disturbed the sand as he traveled, Mizuki was rather fascinated to note, and wondered if that was a result of long experience living in the desert or of shinobi training. She even thought to ask him, briefly raising her gaze again to inquire – only to be stopped dead before ever uttering a single syllable, for she found herself taken aback by both his gaze – which was rather pointedly looking anywhere but in her direction – and the fact that he was removing from his person both the scabbards that housed his swords and the trench coat that had become a hallmark of his reputation.

It was with a wary eye indeed that scrutinized the man, uncertain of what to expect. It was entirely possible that he was readying himself for a fighting session – Oh, no, Mizuki hadn’t forgotten what had happened in the first “training” session she’d experienced under Masami Saito’s care (if that was truly the term to use.) Granted, the last time, he hadn’t really taken the time to remove anything, but if there was anything shinobi avoided, it was establishing obvious patterns – Saito-sensei would know better to avoid such. On the other hand, it was also possible (more like ‘extremely likely’) that the man had something else planned. What, however, Mizuki could not discern. It signified something, that much she was certain, and based on her previous encounters with the famed genjutsu user, the opinion that had been formed was none other than that anything and everything he did was suspect. This extended to every word he said, most especially any and all questions he asked – even those that were indirectly inquired after.

As deeply suspicious of him as she was, however, his words we relevant to the particular situation at hand. That was, training. Did she have something she wanted to work on? She nodded her head, both in response to the older shinobi’s not-question and her own question. Definitely. It had been observed during the four-way battle at the oasis that, of the four people on Team Masami, she and she alone did not possess within her arsenal any sort of jutsu – or any jutsu of note at all. This lack of skill in comparison to Shouten and Daisuke made her look weak, and this simply would not stand. She wasn’t weak, curse it, she was just untrained! She’d never had anyone to teach her elemental jutsu, after all… At least, no one had taken any sort of interest in doing so.

”Elemental jutsu, Sensei,” she said. It occurred to Mizuki that that might have been too brusque, and she hastily amended, “That is, if possible, I’d like to train in my element. Which is wind. But you already know this…”

[Masami Saito]

Masami couldn't help but let his mouth fade into a slight smile at the words of...he supposed he could call her his student. It had been a very long time since he had used those words to describe anyone, let alone a girl whom he hardly knew, and yet the title seemed to come on somewhat naturally in his mind. He supposed this was a result of the fact that he had not been in the position of actually teaching someone in a very long time. Perhaps he was merely feeling nostalgic. Regardless, he let the smile fade from his face just as quickly as it came on, replacing it with the cold look those around him had so gotten used to at this point. It was rare that Masami expressed amusement at anything, let alone something that a mere Genin could say to him. Yet he found humor in the fact that Mizuki had essentially suggested he teach her the very thing he had come to the oasis expecting to teach. He, too, had noticed that she was far behind the other two members of his team when it came to elemental jutsu. In fact, he could not recall observing her using jutsu of any variety, regardless of its status. She had to know the basic jutsu one must graduate from the academy with, that much was for sure. However, she showed virtually no promise when it came to Ninjutsu and Genjutsu; at least, from what Masami had seen. However, if there was one thing the Jounin was sure of, it was that things were not always as they appear.

Indeed, Masami had been aware that Mizuki's natural affinity was to wind. He supposed she was somewhat fortunate; the Jounin believed wind to be one of the most useful elements one can manipulate, and would not hesitate to say so if the conversation ever arose. For what other element can be used both for manipulation and for the purposes of attacking? He supposed both earth and water could be used to manipulate an object without necessarily destroying it, but somehow both of these elements had their downsides, as well. In the deep desert, a water manipulation is essentially useless, lest one is in a particularly fine location. As for earth, Masami had always found earth manipulations to be rather brutish. Wind was a fine choice, and Mizuki was blessed to be gifted with such a natural affinity. Why, then, had this affinity not been taken advantage of? Just looking at her, Masami had to admit she didn't look as if she had much promise in the ways of combat. She was, after all, female. Regardless, the students of the academy were the village's most valuable resource, and must be capitalized on. Setting aside his feelings on women and their general place when it comes to battle, one cannot disregard the possibility that she may be the exception, rather than the perpetuation of the rule. Such assumptions bothered Masami quite a bit, but this was likely because assumptions such as that generally came coupled with the worst attribute of all: ignorance.

Speaking up in response to her request, Masami first nodded his head slightly before saying anything. ”Yes, I am aware of your affinity to the wind element. I'm sure you're aware by now that I also possess skill when it comes to the execution of wind-based techniques. As such, you're definitely in luck to have someone that can teach by example, rather than with mere theory.” Turning to the side slightly and sighing, Masami looked up to the sky, observing its deep blue, near cloudless quality. Taking a moment to judge the time by the location of the sun in said sky, he closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head slightly. ”I arrived later than anticipated. For that, I must ask your pardon.” Finishing those words, he suddenly clapped his hands together in as undramatic and subdued a motion as one could imagine, and turned his body back to Mizuki, lifting his arms to direct the violent wind reaction that had suddenly occurred with this mere clapping of his hands.

The wind, which could easily lift a fully grown man off his feet, had absolutely no trouble in asserting its will over the unsuspecting Mizuki. Listing her from the ground suddenly, the wind carried her backward at a reasonably high speed, sending her directly at the brush of trees that had been quite a few meters behind her until this moment. As her back hit the largest of these tress, and she crumpled to the ground to recover from this assault, Masami walked a few feet forward to close the now substantial distance between them, a look on his eyes which no longer expressed his desire to be pardoned for his tardiness, but rather displayed how absolutely unphased he felt in attacking a child at least half his size. Speaking to her with a voice as disconnected as his expression, the Jounin began the first of his individual lessons.

”I'm well aware that you likely think me unfair. Even by the most loyal of shinobi in the village, my methods may seem somewhat cruel and uncalled for, so I can scarcely blame you for these feelings. Nevertheless...” He stopped his advance at a reasonable distance, close enough to be somewhat personal and yet far enough away to allow the space to serve as a buffer between her and he, allowing for a reaction to any attack if one were quick enough. ”You are my student, and there are very few,” He stopped himself, taking a moment to correct his wording without the slightest slip or stutter in his speech. ”There are none other than yourselves that can lay claim to such a position. If you are to be taken seriously, then you must be willing to go through the most grueling of trials in order to increase your strength. You, most of all, should be made to understand that any respect you gain must be earned.”

With that, he proceeded to the point of his demonstration. ”That technique is known as the Gale Palm Technique. It requires the shinobi to compress the air they are disturbing with the clapping of their hands, and turn this air into a powerful gale, directing it at their attackers. You've learned through your studies at the academy how to channel chakra and direct it so as to do things such as create duplicates, propel yourself, and the like. You must apply these same teachings to the air in front of you.”

He loomed over her, making her fully understand all that is required as he defined her goal.

”Your task is to use the Gale Palm Technique to take me off my feet. It should be no difficult task; that is, after all, what the technique was designed for. I've made it all the easier in ridding myself of the most heavy of my attire, leaving me lighter and therefore easier to lift.” He looked her in the eyes, driving his final point home. ”You no doubt feel as if you're behind your teammates in terms of skill. This is your chance to even the odds. Prove yourself.”