With a light thud, Tenten's head landed against her sensei's shoulder, breathing quietly and calmly as sleep swept over her.
They had been on a mission. One of many since Tenten had become a Genin and student of Gai. The boys had been both long sound asleep, every now and then one could hear Lee mumble something in his sleep.
Only Tenten had initially said she would stay awake with Gai, after he had said he would keep night watch, to keep him company.
Though after a few hours, she had been more asleep than awake. Still, she refused to lay down. Instead she fought against the sleep that threatened to overcome her.
For a while her head kept falling forward while her eyes closed, just for her to quickly open them again. Over and over again, until she had finally lost to sleep.
From Genin Tenten @shinndo
Sorry I know we talked about something else in dms and I def. will send something for this but this here popped up in my brain and didn't wanted to leave anymore
Many people did not know that Maito Gai was capable of being very, very still. Many saw that he could put his shoulder to the plow like no other, that he blazed through hours and hours of training with determination and sheer will. They lauded him for his accomplishments, unable to really fault him for his boisterous attitude and his ridiculous antics. Maito Gai was an ever-moving streak of green, a man filled with so much energy he often seemed to be vibrating just trying to restrain his enthusiasm, a man you would hear before you see.
Those who knew him better knew that stillness was at the core of his being. For as long as he can remember, he had been reaching within. Deep within, past the shallow ripples of daily hindrances, past the murky currents of time past and time present. If he reached deep enough, he would find the point of stillness. A sense of being that swayed not in the winds of change and warped not around the shape of others.
Taijutsu was also about stillness — inner stillness, and stillness in motion. Before power, there had to be balance. Before strength, there had to be clarity. Before speed, there had to be precision. Before work, there must be rest.
Cultivating this in his students was a little more challenging than he had imagined. Neji was the strongest in grasping these principles, and he was calm and focused when it came to training, but he lacked patience still. Lee was the hardest worker of them all, and though he had a tendency to get ahead of himself, he was obedient and faithful. When Gai said rest, he’d rest, even if, like when Gai was younger, he had to fight every trembling bone in his body to restrain himself. Tenten, on the other hand, seemed to have inherited Gai’s stubbornness more than the other two.
“Rest,” Gai had insisted, “So you can be refreshed and ready for the next day.” Tenten had refused, and there was nothing Gai could do to convince her otherwise.
So there he sat in complete silence, cross-legged by a tree, arms loose by his side and hands folded over his lap, still as a rock. The shadows of the forest were much less still than him; silhouettes seemed to weave in and out of the dark, while the leaves whispered its rustling promises as a breeze came and went. Somewhere, a cricket began its piercing chirp.
Tenten sat right by his side, and he knew it would begin soon. The rubbing of eyes, squeaking in their sockets. The heavy exhales and thinly-repressed yawns. Then the heavy eyelids, before she was nodding off against his shoulder.
Gai broke his stillness with a smile that climbed up his face as he glanced over at her. And once the weight on his shoulder grew heavy enough that Gai knew she was definitely deep in sleep, he maneuvered her very gently down on a flat patch of grass before laying a blanket over her.
For a moment he stood over his three students as they slept, quiet, resting, and Gai’s heart soared with emotion. Then, with a deep breath and a long exhale, Gai returned to his post and sat, cross-legged, still as a rock.
