Naruto RPG
Would you like to react to this message? Create an account in a few clicks or log in to continue.
Swearing and mature language is permitted.
Mild sexual innuendo and references permitted.
Explicit violence is permitted.
Log in


boss man
Yamato Arantima
Current Events

Christmas Event





Important Links

Top posting users this month
34 Posts - 31%
20 Posts - 18%
11 Posts - 10%
10 Posts - 9%
8 Posts - 7%
7 Posts - 6%
6 Posts - 5%
5 Posts - 5%
5 Posts - 5%
5 Posts - 5%
Naruto, Naruto Shippuden © Masashi Kishimoto
Naruto RPG
Naruto Role Play Game
(Forum RPG) ©
Former Owners, Staff and Members.

All things created on this site are their respective owners' works and all related topics and forum creators. Information may not be taken from forum descriptions, category descriptions, issues, or posts without the creator's permission, shape, or form. Anyone who copies the site's content without said creator's license will be punished.
Protected by Copyscape
Go down
Shichiro Hashimoto
Shichiro Hashimoto
Missing-Nin (D-rank)
Missing-Nin (D-rank)
Survived 2021
You've completed the Christmas Event of 2021 and qualified for the last reward, by partisan you are awarded this fancy badge!
Stat Page : Mi Stats
Remove Remove Remove Ninjutsu Default
Remove Earth Default
Village : Tanbogakure
Ryo : 35000

128 Palms [private] Empty 128 Palms [private]

Fri Oct 06, 2017 12:20 am
Trotting through the desolate streets of the village hidden in the stars, with his pack over his shoulder and the weight of his belongings keeping him grounded the newfound jounin of kumogakure could feel the sweat rolling down his neck. Gently he’d use the arm not keeping his belongings secure to wipe the perspiration of off his brow. “Damn this desert and its climate” The man would mutter as he came to a stop near the gates of the village. He’d reached the rendezvous point that he’d been given the previous night in the promotion party. He was supposed to meet a few of the other kumogakure ninja here and prepare to head back.

But it seemed he had been the first to arrive, seeing as there were no other men nor women clad in kumogakure attire. This immediately raised some red flags, as it was a strange occurrence for Komon to be early to anything, Had their orders been changed and he hadn’t been informed. “No” He’d shake the idea out of his head as he placed his belongings on the edge of an old wooden bench, resting in the hoshigakure streets. The release of the weight brought instant relief to his shoulders and his expression would show it as he placed himself beside his objects firmly on the bench.

It was strange to think that he had carried the three tails of legend across a forest with only his friend senshi to help, but yet his belongings still wore him out lugging them around. “Maybe I should start packing lighter” He’d think to himself as he awaited on the arrival of his peers. But it seemed none would come as an hour passed and he’d begin to wonder if he had gotten his orders wrong. “They did say to leave at 10?” He’d think as he looked towards the sky. Still thoroughly confused he’d allow a few more moments before deciding that they must have meant at night.

Which left the question as to what he should do in the meantime, after all he had almost a full 11 hours at his disposal before he was to meet with his group if he was correct in his guesses. Stretching his arms that still ached from the morning spar with some of hoshigakure finest he’d ponder on the idea of getting more training in would be either beneficial or overkill. Eventually the idea of growing stronger seduced him, and he would sling his pack over his shoulder once more making his way to the training ground he had practiced in earlier that morning.

The walk wasn’t long, as the training ground was near the gate and he’d find himself in a now barren field, the two jolly men he had, had the pleasure of sparring with this morning had long since left. And it seemed not many hoshigakure shinobi fancied the idea of training in a plain grass field. “More room for me” He’d mutter aloud, allowing the words to slip through a shining smirk. He never felt more comfortable than when he was training in solitude, there was no worry of whether or not he had to act a certain way as there was nobody to judge him.

Ready to get to work, the hyuuga’s pale eyes would gaze upon the wooden post in the center of the field and he’d ponder on what to do with it. Which wouldn’t take long as he remembered the hyuuga techniques he had seen in his mother's book. He’d come a long way since learning the 32 palms technique, and has now upped the sequence to 64, but there was still a distance to go as newfound jounin found his skill level escalating. Now he’d strive for the 128 palms technique, the pinnacle of the eight trigrams offensive attacks.

Releasing the pack off of his shoulder he’d let it crash into the grass, the sound of shuriken clashing against kunai would release a metallic echo into the surrounding area, while the hyuuga closed the distance to the wooden post in front of him. The post however would change its form as Komon closed in on it, not physically of course but rather in komon’s mind. Ever since he was a child he had trained like this, the wooden post took on the form of his mother's murderer.

A dark silhouette with nothing but a village insignia to identify it, a conduit for Komon to unleash his volleys upon. A needle of chakra invisible to most would form at the tips of komon’s fingers when he came within striking distance of the post. He’d allow a momentary pause as he looked at the mental image of the man who had taken his mother from him, years ago Komon probably would have stricken at him with rage, but in his years he had learned the error of letting emotion cloud his fights. Youka had taught him that lesson with Jiyo, and he had learned it well.

With nothing but silence in the air the hyuuga would inhale.

“No” He’d think to himself. If he ever came face to face with the man who had snuffed his mother's life away, that man would not find himself against an emotional and reckless mess. Instead, he’d find himself against a clear minded kumogakure jounin. And that, ...that would be the last thing he would ever find himself against.

He’d exhale.


And his two strikes would find themselves lashing forward, his fingertips crashing into the man’s imaginary chakra points, splintering the wooden log on impact. The cracks of the wood would echo through the air as Komon’s body recoiled to position himself for the next volley. Spinning in true hyuuga fashion, his grey byakugan would reposition itself back to the log and his right arm would blast forward closely followed by his left.


As his strikes landed His hand would blast easily through what he now knew to be rotten wood, shattering the log on only his third strike and throwing him off balance. Losing his footing he’d stumble forward and into the grass face first. As the green of the grass stained his clothes he’d roll over onto his back before confusedly uttering

“Three Palms?”

Pleased with his own joke he’d let out the slightest bit of laughter before picking himself back up off of the ground, and once he had regained a solid footing he’d wipe the dirt and grass off of his clothing, not wishing to ruin a perfectly good outfit. “I guess I’m going to need something stronger to train with” He’d say to himself, thinking out loud. The wood had proven to be too weak a foe, and it appeared he was growing stronger with age and experience. Luckily Komon was ninjutsu specialist, with the earth element no less.

Producing something hard to punch wouldn’t prove to be a challenging task for someone with his experience. One hand sign and a hand smacking into the ground later a large wall of rock would manifest itself into the air. Taking a moment to glance over the structural integrity of his own creation the man would place his palm against the surface of the earth wall, taking into account the sturdy and cold surface of the rock.

With his review complete he had come to the conclusion that the rock would make a much more efficient sparring partner than the rotten log he had just obliterated, in fact he almost feared for his own hands. It seemed in a moment he’d find out which was stronger… His ninjutsu, or his taijutsu.

The thought of clashing his specialties together in order to see which he was more proficient at was amusing to him, but the thought would only get him so far. Eventually he’d have to convert it into action. So he’d get to work, once more the hyuuga would allow his chakra to flow to his palms, forming a needle invisible to most men, with the rare exception of the hyuuga and uchiha clan.

This was the power of the prized hyuuga gentle fist fighting style, using chakra to allow your taijutsu to wreak havoc on an opponent's advanced chakra network. It required the gifted eye of the hyuuga and the precision of a master martial artist, it was not an easy style to adopt and yet Komon had taught it to himself with only his mother's books, he’d come a long way in his training and he intended to go much further. Once more squaring his stance towards an inanimate object the hyuuga would inhale, allowing himself a moment of clarity before his attack.


He’d shout as he exhaled, and sent two strikes into the earthen wall. Almost microscopic shards of rocks would be stripped from the surface as the crack of his fingers impacting with the wall echoed through the air. A normal man might have felt pain, but such trivial concepts came as the norm to a shinobi of any village. Pain was their business, they knew it well and they could live with it.

“FOUR PALMS” He’d exclaim as he hoped his third strike would be met with more success than his last.

The earth wall would immediately prove to be sturdier than the log, remaining intact even after his left and right arms finished dealing the 3rd and 4th strike of the 128 to come. In fact the hyuuga had barely created a dent, but he was gaining momentum and he was hardly through with his sequence. Confident that he’d eventually shatter the wall, his hips and his shoulders would shift as he prepared to double down on his efforts.


As he shouted he’d increase his chakra supply, releasing more and more with every strike; always envisioning more damage to the rock. By the time his eighth strike landed the soft imprint of his knuckle began to make itself known, but the wall was thick and designed to stop attacks much more powerful than this. It would take dozens more to break through, and he’d have to up his game.


This was a point in the routine he had reached countless times before, blow for blow being exchanged in a rhythmic fashion. The cracks began to fall into an ever escalating chorus of echoes, an indication to the growing power and momentum of his technique.


This was where fatigue usually began to manifest, after all thirty two strikes in only a few seconds expended a significant amount of energy, and Komon’s respiratory and chakra system had both required intense conditioning in order to reach a point that he could do this. But even with that training this sequence would take its toll on him, and it was becoming increasingly apparent as his breathing became more rigid and frequent, his lungs desperately trying to make up for the oxygen fueling his punches.


There was noticeable burning in his arms, indicating that as hard as his lungs may be trying… They could only keep up so long. He was reaching his end point in terms of endurance, but he needed to ignore it, power through it. The boy knew his capabilities but he couldn’t extend them without pressing them. His fist had left a crater in the wall at this point, about halfway through the earthen structure. “Just a little more” He’d assure himself as he repositioned his body for the last volley.


At this point, he gathered his arms were moving faster than he had ever seen them move before, with all the momentum and chakra he had built up, every strike creating a new jolt of pain he had only one goal in mind.

Break that wall.

100 strikes in and he could feel the wall growing weaker from the repeated exposure to his blows, by 110 the wall felt almost hollow and he knew his goal was within reach, he had 18 strikes left and he wouldn’t waste a single one. Every punch had more power to it than the last, despite his body's natural protest to such a course of action, he had the mental power to continue, and on the one hundred and twenty eighth strike he’d feel his arm crash through the wall.

“I DID IT” He’d shout out loud as he raised the hand that wasn’t currently stuck in the wall, into the air to celebrate. His fist would pump up and down in the same manner as that of an excited child, before he regained his composure and realised he now had to free his arm from the hole in the wall he had created. Letting out an exhausted sigh he’d use his free arm to hell stab the wall, shattering what was left of it into several thousand pieces of small rock.

Pleased with himself he’d fall onto his back, and take a moment to catch his breath, gazing at the clouds above him, all the while thinking of home. “I’ll be home soon” He’d think while activating the telepathic seal senshi kobayashi had given him and his brother. The message was intended for his twin, who was currently waiting for him back home. There was nothing he hated more than being separated from his brother, and as far as the hyuuga was concerned ten o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

Done with his training his head would turn towards his belongings… “Guess it’s time to go”


WC: 2256

Claiming 128 Palms [2250/2250 Max Stat Discount]
Madrigal Kaguya
Madrigal Kaguya
Stat Page : Here
Remove Taijutsu Default
Water Default
Clan Specialty : Taijutsu
Village : Hoshigakure
Ryo : 10600

128 Palms [private] Empty Re: 128 Palms [private]

Fri Oct 06, 2017 8:39 am
Back to top
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum