Today would be another regulated day for the boy named Jiro. A few weeks have passed since he graduated from the academy, and his days were filled with training or gatherings. Although the recent grad would be nowhere to be found. It wasn’t till much later into the day that the boy would be found rocking slowly inside his hammock. Ignoring his duties for another quick snooze. Unfortunately, his parents did not agree, quickly tossing him aside with scolding louder than his snores. His eyes laid half awake as he was forced to listen to another lecture, groaning as he was forced away off elsewhere to better himself.

The average height boy would soon find himself pushed into the nearest training grounds. Even if he wasn’t dressed for the occasion, only wearing a white tee, shorts, and sandals, he had little to no choice anymore. Those hazel colored eyes scanned the area for anything of interest. The most obvious siting would be another dark-skinned boy, with similar hair color choiring. Yet, unlike young Jiro he seemed to have much anger stored within. He couldn’t help but be pulled in by pure curiosity.

Approaching the boy who repeatedly attacked the punching bag he would simply stop and stare not more than 7 feet away. His head tilted towards the side as if he were studying a newly found beast. His fingers curled against his chin as he nodded slowly. Not caring much for the others personal space, he would turn around and point towards the bag. “I’m pretty sure those bags have feelings too, dude.” He chuckled at his own awful joke.

Zemir landed a savagely heavy hit into the punching bag just a voice broke the otherwise silent scene. The boy would turn from the punching bag and face the origin of the voice, another boy with white hair much like his though he looked like he stemmed from better upbringings. Zemir radiated anger, hate and rage to essentially everything in general what sort of child could be fueled by such emotions?

"Tsch, I'll beat them emotionless then" Zemir was a standoffish and angry kid with very little in the way of social skills. He turned back to the punching bag and began to lay into it once more, hitting it with surprisingly heavy strikes. As he continued to train, his muscles would suffer from more and more strain making each consecutive punch harder and harder to pull off.

As he wailed down on the punching back, Zemir would grunt out conversation "Doubt you came here to watch" His tone was still agitated "What are you training?" Recently the boy had made some work at making friends so he was trying his hardest but it didn't stop his unbridled anger.

The kid simply stared at the other as he began pinching the bag with more vigor. It seemed as if the bag caused him much grief in life. Taking a closer look at him he would notice there was a huge difference between the two. The kid would be more filthy, and looked as if he faced many hardship. Jiro looked at himself for a moment and simply compared the pairs possible lives for a few moments.

Only to snap out of the small trance he trapped himself into after hearing the kid break from his grunts go speak out. With a quick shrug he responded “I could be here for chats. “he attempted to make a small joke to break the ice before giving off a small sigh. “Well, I guess I could train. His body fell onto the ground and his hands clasped together. “see, hand signs are a pain. “he told him as he began to form different signs – rat, snake, dragon. His signs repeated over and over at increasing speed. His eyes focused on his hands before they fumbled and classed into a ball. Groaning after. “the problem is my mind is either too fast or too slow. It messes up with following trough. “

As Zemir laid into the punching back, he would wait for the other's comment before stopping and stepping away from the bag. He would unclip the extra weights around his ankles and wrists before speaking up again as he watched the boy attempt a flurry of hand seals "I don't worry much about them, never got the hang of them or ninjutsu I was always too" he would look at his hand before walking over to a rack of weights "Angry"

As he set things up to begin doing high weight training, Zemir would pipe up again "If you need to start off slow, do a set of 10 seals and slowly get faster, see how quick you can do it" He would give a shrug before laying down on his back with a barbell across his chest equalling up to about 50 kiliograms. With a grunt, Zemir lifted the weights and began doing his set, listening out for any comment from the boy.

His eyes shifted away from his over towards the strange boy. Listening to his words. His head tilted towards the side slightly before speaking out towards him. “How long have you tried to get the hang of ninjutsu?” Would be his first question. “Did anyone at the academy or even your family attempt to help you with it? Strength plays an important role in winning a battle but being able to even use one or two ninjutsu can greatly increase your odds.” He’d tell him with a quick nod.

Now he eyes would focus on his hands as he would recall the advice he was given. Repeating the same hand signs as before, but slower. Keeping his hands locked in for a few seconds before slowly switching. Allowing his mind and fingers to slowly memorize in which order would be best to switch in and out from. “Also, don’t those weight hurt after a while?”

Zemir would raise an eyebrow which quickly became a snarl. In a fit of sudden anger he tossed the weights at the wall behind the boy, just barely missing him. The weights left a large dent in the wall l, a testament to his strength. Zemir was now sitting upright looking furious. "What family?! I have nobody. Unlike you I have no family to teach me. I have a unique power but no guidance for it" he clenched his fists as he contained himself "My body stops me from being able to use ninjutsu like others" he would shake his head, dismissing the subject.

Walking passed the boy, Zemir would yank the weights from the wall before answering the second question. " That's kind of the point" he said simply. "Ever heard the phrase no pain no gain? You gotta hurt to make progress"

His hands clasped together tightly while his eyes widen, all in shock. Hearing the loud clanks of the iron weights smash against the wall behind him was sudden. Jiro sat trough the boys sudden rage rant. Unknown to him, this would be the first of many he would suffer trough. Giving slow nods as he yelled out about his life, and strangely about his body. Watching as the boy would walk right past him to pick up his weights, he would shake his head sighing.

Dusting his shorts after getting himself up, he shook his head once more. He knew when a situation got way over his control and would be best to let things settled. “Hey, I don’t know your name. Nor anything about you. No need to get all riled off on information others don’t know.” The good thing about hand signs is the fact you can practice wherever, so leaving the training grounds wouldn’t hurt his progression. “Now, you may be all alone currently, but we’re still young. You got plenty of time to make more friends and family. But, if not, then you could probably come over for dinner or something later. If you can promise not to throw a tantrum.” He’d tell the boy, giving a cheeky smile. Waving at the angered kid goodbye. “If we ever meet again, let me know.”

Zemir's outburst finally subsided, unsurprisingly he could see how uncomfortable the other boy was. He rolled his eyes and let the boy speak. As much as he hated to admit it but he had a point. He watched as the boy stood up and dusted himself off. "Tsch, I guess you're probably right. Pisses me off but whatever" He would watch as the boy headed off, implying that he should stop by for dinner sometime.

When the boy left, Zemir sat in silence for a while, contemplating his own rage and his actions. He would shrug it off and go back to his workout, pushing himself harder than ever before, he had some pent up anger that he needed to use up. The fact that some random kid had managed to cause him to snap so quickly pissed him off. Zemir would be at the gym for a long time that day, who knew if he'd ever meet the kid again.