[As time in Scorpion's Bend creeps by, it feels like clues and information becomes hard to come by. So Clara easily falls into her day to day routine of teaching during the days and working a handful of nights at the saloon. She spends time with the Doctor and goes to investigate matters off on her own, and manages to find time in between to help Dr.McCoy in the mornings and some afternoons at the clinic.
But she never is too busy to find the time to practice. Whether it's working on her magic with Sabriel or finding a nice quiet, open area outside the stables to practice what Itachi's been teaching her. She's relentless in attempting to better herself and become stronger.
She tries to be mindful of the fact no one is eating properly, but she uses the excuse that she arrived in the third group to spend long hours out training. Of course, doing it out in the heat of the day won't do. So she heads out at night and works a good distance away from the stables, letting the chilly night air keep her from sweating and wasting more energy as she works at throwing the knives Itachi gave her between two trees.]
๏ผ he's on his way to check in on one of the other members of the crew when he hears it, the faint thwock of knives striking wood. it's a sound that's nearly as familiar as his own heartbeat by now, countless hours spent honing and re-honing those particular skills makes it something unmistakable — only the cadence is wrong. clara?
he steps off course briefly, a silent presence that alights on one of the trees, watching her. her form is slightly off, one foot not quite turned out properly, but the rest is — adequate, and her determination is obvious by the set of her shoulders and jaw.
she's made considerable progress.
he doesn't linger, simply uses shunshin to carry on his way, leaving nothing of his passage behind. it isn't until he's seen to his business and is returning to the dwelling he shares with sabriel that he actually stops, now hours later, to find her still busily practicing her throws.
this time he stays on the ground, arms folded, head faintly tilted to one side. ๏ผ
[Sometimes she feels bad for not using honorifics, but he's never asked it of her. Right now, she's too focused on going to retrieve her knife from the tree. It's pulled out with a bit of force on her part, and it's only after it's free that she glances his way with a smile.
She's clearly exhausted, but doesn't look as if she's going to quit anytime soon. There's only so many hours in a night, and then she'll be busy again tomorrow. If she's going to become stronger, she has to use what time she has available. So she steps back and takes on a stance to throw again, but hesitates before doing anything.
It turns out she's a little self-conscious with him standing there watching her. At first she thinks it's likely because she's wearing the trousers he lent her, legs cuffed for her small stature, suspenders still holding them up. The sleeves on her plain cotton shirt are rolled up, hair pulled into a high ponytail. And of course, she's barefoot, so it's faster and easier for her to move. All of these things are great for training, but not so much when it's this cold and dark outside.
She shifts a bit uncomfortably, lowering the knife in her hand so she can point over toward him with it.]
[Again, she hesitates. But he did use the word please, so it would be rude to say no. The throwing knife is thrown at the ground, letting it land into the cold soil with a soft thud.
Her hands are incredibly sore now that she's not focused on her training, and she reluctantly turns her hands over palm up for him to see. There are blisters all across her palms, some of which have already popped open. The sight of them makes her eyes go wide.]
๏ผ he does a small water technique one-handed, which results in a spill of cool, clear water across her worn palms. his touch is gently firm as he inspects those broken-open blisters — infection will do them no favours here. ๏ผ
When I was a boy, I used to train for hours in the forest adjacent to my clan's compound.
๏ผ his right hand glows with the soft blue of healing chakra, and he passes it across her palms. not enough to mend entirely, but it will ease what is stiff and sore and facilitate better healing. ๏ผ
[it's a needless thing to point out, but her voice holds enough warmth and gratitude to show that she's pleased he feels the need to at all. He won't want her to bring much attention to it, so she just glosses on past it and keeps talking.]
It's easy to get lost in trying to be better. I didn't even realize how late it must be by now.
๏ผ he stoops and picks up the kunai she'd thrown down, flips it once in his hand and then throws it at one of the makeshift targets she'd cut into a tree. he doesn't need to look at it to know it hits dead center. ๏ผ
An important component to improvement is rest. If all you do is train, you may find yourself losing sight of what you are training for.
If either of those two situations occur, I promise you will be of greater use with a proper night's rest than with hands that are raw with blisters and arms you can barely raise.
๏ผ he sinks down onto the earth, sitting seiza, not seeming to mind the fact it's going to dirty his fancy clothing. he gives her a rather arch look that suggests she would do well to follow suit. resting his hands on his thighs — ๏ผ โ
[She moves to sit in a position like his, ignoring the way the ground feels a bit too cold on her backside. His question seems to take her by surprise though, making her eyes go wide as she gives her head a shake.]
Sorry?
[Realizing that makes it sound like she hasn't heard him, she quickly adds on -]
I haven't. I've seen people killed, right in front of my eyes. But I've never...intentionally harmed someone before.
[And she's still not sure she even can bring herself to do it.]
๏ผ his look on her is attentive. level. his eyes, always red, seem to emit a faint glow in the fading light. ๏ผ
You see value in fighting — and there is. You may go the entirety of your time on the Ximilia without needing to take a life. But the deeper you step into this world, the more you should be prepared for it. I am not teaching you to hit targets, Clara-san, I am teaching you to hit people, and kill them if necessary. There is a cost to that.
[She hesitates, frowning as she looks down at her hands.]
I'm not sure I'm ready to kill. Not yet. And I have no idea if I ever will be.
[It's a quiet, blunt answer. One that has her being open and honest with him. She lacks her usual bravado and bubbly nature. For once, she's dropped the act and is just herself.]
How am I supposed to prepare for the possibility of something like murder?
๏ผ there is a clear distinction in his mind. murder. that is the name for what he did to his clan. people cut down in their homes, where even the strongest among them did not have warning enough to fight back. shinobi do not carry weapons everywhere, and of those uchiha with a sharingan none knew how strong he had become. killing someone in battle is not the same. but he supposes the distinction may escape her, if all death is a like anathema. ๏ผ
There is nothing wrong with being unsure. It is not meant to be easy.
๏ผ it was for him. the bite of the knife, the hot rush of blood across his knuckles. how his father stood in solemn standby and they watched the man choke and gurgle and grasp at his throat as if he could hold the severed skin together through sheer force of will.
he had carried the knife in his hand all the way back to their basecamp. the blood dried tacky, and it had taken his mother's gentle care that night to get him to release it. he remembers the way it clattered as it hit the bottom of the washing basin and how sore he had suddenly felt, as if he had done so much more than simply slit a man's throat. his mother had hugged him and cried, and he had not understood then why she was so sad, nor why he'd heard her furious reprimand of his father later that night.
he needed to learn, fugaku had said distantly, mechanically. as a child he had not realized how hollow, how tired his father had sounded. looking at clara now, he wonders if this is how he had felt. ๏ผ
Willfully taking a life requires the excision of parts of yourself that you cannot easily reclaim. You must set aside compassion and empathy, any desire to see or understand the plights of your enemies, any urge to wonder why they might be standing where they stand. You cannot think of the family they might wish to protect, the friends they've lost, the training they've bloodied their hands with. Their hopes, their dreams.
๏ผ he lifts his chin, orienting faintly towards the light of the twin moons. ๏ผ
If you are lucky, it is instinct. If not — it is a choice you need to make each time.
[Rather than filling her with confidence, his further explanation only makes her doubt herself more. She's quiet as she looks down at her hands, flexing them as she tries to figure out right then and there if she's capable of getting blood on them.]
For the Doctor, I would do anything. But -
[She hesitates as tells him, even if she really hasn't mentioned the Doctor to him before and has no idea if he even knows who they are. She's not lying when she says it, but she knows the truth is more complex than such a simple statement. She would do whatever it takes to protect the Doctor, including dying herself. But she isn't sure harming others is something she's capable of doing.
Even for self-protection.
He's just told her this isn't meant to be easy, that it's not something she can just be certain about in a moment's time. ]
But I'm not sure I can set aside my compassion or empathy. They're too much a part of who I am.
[Her gaze lifts, looking up to the double moons overhead. Something about them makes her feel a sense of peace, even with the serious topic they're discussing.]
[it's always his bluntness that makes her take pause and think on things harder. her attention shifts back over onto him, and she frowns a bit.]
Did I -
[Did she do good?
Say the wrong thing?
He's so difficult for her to read. But maybe it's not important that she gets a solid read on him just yet. He's a puzzle she can keep solving. Her mouth closes and she tiredly smiles, giving a curt nod of her head.
The world has enough killers. She doesn't need to keep working so hard to become another one of them.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action idk when this is let's go with now
But she never is too busy to find the time to practice. Whether it's working on her magic with Sabriel or finding a nice quiet, open area outside the stables to practice what Itachi's been teaching her. She's relentless in attempting to better herself and become stronger.
She tries to be mindful of the fact no one is eating properly, but she uses the excuse that she arrived in the third group to spend long hours out training. Of course, doing it out in the heat of the day won't do. So she heads out at night and works a good distance away from the stables, letting the chilly night air keep her from sweating and wasting more energy as she works at throwing the knives Itachi gave her between two trees.]
idk man we're doing it
he steps off course briefly, a silent presence that alights on one of the trees, watching her. her form is slightly off, one foot not quite turned out properly, but the rest is — adequate, and her determination is obvious by the set of her shoulders and jaw.
she's made considerable progress.
he doesn't linger, simply uses shunshin to carry on his way, leaving nothing of his passage behind. it isn't until he's seen to his business and is returning to the dwelling he shares with sabriel that he actually stops, now hours later, to find her still busily practicing her throws.
this time he stays on the ground, arms folded, head faintly tilted to one side. ๏ผ
Clara-san.
no subject
[Sometimes she feels bad for not using honorifics, but he's never asked it of her. Right now, she's too focused on going to retrieve her knife from the tree. It's pulled out with a bit of force on her part, and it's only after it's free that she glances his way with a smile.
She's clearly exhausted, but doesn't look as if she's going to quit anytime soon. There's only so many hours in a night, and then she'll be busy again tomorrow. If she's going to become stronger, she has to use what time she has available. So she steps back and takes on a stance to throw again, but hesitates before doing anything.
It turns out she's a little self-conscious with him standing there watching her. At first she thinks it's likely because she's wearing the trousers he lent her, legs cuffed for her small stature, suspenders still holding them up. The sleeves on her plain cotton shirt are rolled up, hair pulled into a high ponytail. And of course, she's barefoot, so it's faster and easier for her to move. All of these things are great for training, but not so much when it's this cold and dark outside.
She shifts a bit uncomfortably, lowering the knife in her hand so she can point over toward him with it.]
You're judging me again. Why?
no subject
Let me see your hands, please.
๏ผ if she's been at it this long without stopping, she'll have blisters across her palms. ๏ผ
no subject
Her hands are incredibly sore now that she's not focused on her training, and she reluctantly turns her hands over palm up for him to see. There are blisters all across her palms, some of which have already popped open. The sight of them makes her eyes go wide.]
What are you looking for, exactly?
no subject
When I was a boy, I used to train for hours in the forest adjacent to my clan's compound.
๏ผ his right hand glows with the soft blue of healing chakra, and he passes it across her palms. not enough to mend entirely, but it will ease what is stiff and sore and facilitate better healing. ๏ผ
However, it's an easy thing to get lost in.
no subject
[it's a needless thing to point out, but her voice holds enough warmth and gratitude to show that she's pleased he feels the need to at all. He won't want her to bring much attention to it, so she just glosses on past it and keeps talking.]
It's easy to get lost in trying to be better. I didn't even realize how late it must be by now.
no subject
๏ผ he stoops and picks up the kunai she'd thrown down, flips it once in his hand and then throws it at one of the makeshift targets she'd cut into a tree. he doesn't need to look at it to know it hits dead center. ๏ผ
An important component to improvement is rest. If all you do is train, you may find yourself losing sight of what you are training for.
no subject
[She looks over to the tree, then back to him, frowning.]
I haven't lost sight of getting our hands on that.
no subject
๏ผ he sinks down onto the earth, sitting seiza, not seeming to mind the fact it's going to dirty his fancy clothing. he gives her a rather arch look that suggests she would do well to follow suit. resting his hands on his thighs — ๏ผ โ
Have you killed a man before?
no subject
Sorry?
[Realizing that makes it sound like she hasn't heard him, she quickly adds on -]
I haven't. I've seen people killed, right in front of my eyes. But I've never...intentionally harmed someone before.
[And she's still not sure she even can bring herself to do it.]
no subject
You see value in fighting — and there is. You may go the entirety of your time on the Ximilia without needing to take a life. But the deeper you step into this world, the more you should be prepared for it. I am not teaching you to hit targets, Clara-san, I am teaching you to hit people, and kill them if necessary. There is a cost to that.
no subject
[She hesitates, frowning as she looks down at her hands.]
I'm not sure I'm ready to kill. Not yet. And I have no idea if I ever will be.
[It's a quiet, blunt answer. One that has her being open and honest with him. She lacks her usual bravado and bubbly nature. For once, she's dropped the act and is just herself.]
How am I supposed to prepare for the possibility of something like murder?
no subject
There is nothing wrong with being unsure. It is not meant to be easy.
๏ผ it was for him. the bite of the knife, the hot rush of blood across his knuckles. how his father stood in solemn standby and they watched the man choke and gurgle and grasp at his throat as if he could hold the severed skin together through sheer force of will.
he had carried the knife in his hand all the way back to their basecamp. the blood dried tacky, and it had taken his mother's gentle care that night to get him to release it. he remembers the way it clattered as it hit the bottom of the washing basin and how sore he had suddenly felt, as if he had done so much more than simply slit a man's throat. his mother had hugged him and cried, and he had not understood then why she was so sad, nor why he'd heard her furious reprimand of his father later that night.
he needed to learn, fugaku had said distantly, mechanically. as a child he had not realized how hollow, how tired his father had sounded. looking at clara now, he wonders if this is how he had felt. ๏ผ
Willfully taking a life requires the excision of parts of yourself that you cannot easily reclaim. You must set aside compassion and empathy, any desire to see or understand the plights of your enemies, any urge to wonder why they might be standing where they stand. You cannot think of the family they might wish to protect, the friends they've lost, the training they've bloodied their hands with. Their hopes, their dreams.
๏ผ he lifts his chin, orienting faintly towards the light of the twin moons. ๏ผ
If you are lucky, it is instinct. If not — it is a choice you need to make each time.
no subject
For the Doctor, I would do anything. But -
[She hesitates as tells him, even if she really hasn't mentioned the Doctor to him before and has no idea if he even knows who they are. She's not lying when she says it, but she knows the truth is more complex than such a simple statement. She would do whatever it takes to protect the Doctor, including dying herself. But she isn't sure harming others is something she's capable of doing.
Even for self-protection.
He's just told her this isn't meant to be easy, that it's not something she can just be certain about in a moment's time. ]
But I'm not sure I can set aside my compassion or empathy. They're too much a part of who I am.
[Her gaze lifts, looking up to the double moons overhead. Something about them makes her feel a sense of peace, even with the serious topic they're discussing.]
no subject
๏ผ it's just that simple, to him. ๏ผ
The world has enough killers.
no subject
Did I -
[Did she do good?
Say the wrong thing?
He's so difficult for her to read. But maybe it's not important that she gets a solid read on him just yet. He's a puzzle she can keep solving. Her mouth closes and she tiredly smiles, giving a curt nod of her head.
The world has enough killers. She doesn't need to keep working so hard to become another one of them.]
no subject
instead, after a time, he simply gets up and leaves her to her thoughts. ๏ผ