Private Shuriken

[Inosuke Ashina]

SHURIKEN​

Tython, Master's Retreat
0700 Hours Local Planetary Time
​

Inosuke was early by a measure of hours. Catching the earliest shuttle to Tython, the Knight's commute progressed in relative peace. He was solitary in the cabin, with the only other presence being the inorganic Kuat-Entralla piloting system. From the Retreat's small spaceport, he headed directly for the garden beyond the memorial. In a grassy clearing surrounded by hedge and stone reliefs, Knight Ashina reveled in the breeze and morning sun for several drawn-out moments of serenity.

Jedi robes were shed in favor of loose-fitting clothes and bare feet. The attire blatantly reminiscent of his planetary origin was almost enough to make him look like little more than a misplaced traveler. When his lightsaber ignited, it repainted his place in the garden. The plasmatic hum and azure radiance made him more obviously a Jedi than a tourist interloper. Not as if there was anyone around to notice in the first place.

The blade sliced the vacant air time after time. A dancelike routine began in step with a phantasmal rhythm. Deliberate targetless strikes made the plasma purr with every inch. It was the same as he'd done a hundred times down to the very inch. When it concluded, he spun it again. Repetition like a broken holotape went on for hours before Inosuke came to a decisive halt. The warmup was hardly a sweat-maker anymore. These days it had become more of a ritual than anything.

He dropped to his knees, neutralizing his weapon and setting it aside. Eyelids shuttered over pupils, hiding perception away from the flora. Breathing steadied, then slowed as a trance took over. It wouldn't be long before his student, if that term was in any way decorous, would arrive. The time until then would pass like a night to the slumbering cognizance.

Soon.

 

[Henna Ashina]

Henna rose with the morning sun. A familiar routine played out; coffee, stretch, run, eat. A ritual performed thousands of times before, it was broken before the end. Where she would have picked up her studies, she instead headed out the door. The bustling streets of Coruscant were quickly left behind as she made for the spaceport. Her robes were done as well, favoring light, form-fitting cotton instead. The time on the ship flew by as she studied ancient texts downloaded to her datapad. Musings of a master dead and gone were the only company she needed.

Alsha's embrace welcomed her to the world. On her hike, she allowed herself a moment to stop and breathe in deeply. The quiet symphony played as the light cradled her soul. The sun bore down, its warmth far more hospitable than the last time she was on the planet. When her lids opened once more, there was a sense of reinvigoration that followed her the rest of the trek.

When she found the knight resting in the garden, she made no sound. Her silent approach sat herself in front of him cross-legged. She simply sat and stared and waited for instruction.

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

One eye winked open after several moments of nothing. The other eye followed after a notable delay, putting the final piece in place of the Ashina glare. Devoid of verbal greetings, their collective presence slowly devolved into a staring contest. Inosuke didn't blink until after she did, making him the winner of a contest that was never taking place to begin with.

"Good morning," he finally offered in his flattest tone to date. After a slow sweep of regard around the garden he opted to stand. Bare feet sunk into the grass as he rose from his knees. Starting with the left, he rolled up both sleeves to his elbow. The breeze momentarily reminded him how encumbering Jedi vestments could be. His lax attire almost felt liberating. All in all, it was a small relief and one he wouldn't dwell on for longer than an instant.

"I'll take your silence as unspoken eagerness. Stand up."

 

[Henna Ashina]

"That's one way to take it." She muttered.

The stare off was not as enlightening at she would have hoped. She allowed her eyes to lazily scan his form, up and down then up again. She had hoped perhaps he was an morning person, but it seemed the grave demeanor was simply him.

She rose much slower, taking her time as she quite literally smelled the roses. The soft wind carried the floral scent to dance around her nose. She reveled in even such a small joy.

When she finally stood, she leaned back on what foot, looking to him expectantly.

"What exciting lesson brings us all the way to Tython?"