Beneath the winter sun

Hikaru certainly didn’t want to get rusty since he was no longer training to be the shinobi he’d sought out to be. Instead he stretched his muscles outside the pack lands as he tried to get a better understanding of the lands he now called home. His thoughts swiftly shifted to the boy who made that statement a reality, but Hika forced himself to focus. He’d come across the trail of that wolf he’d met last season. Curious if he’d find anymore trouble with the fire marked man he followed him to what seemed like a very obvious battlefield.

If nothing came of this trip at least he knew this place was here. The smell of fighting and blood overwhelmed his senses and excitement raced through his body. Even if he hadn’t graduated the thrill of a good fight would never leave him. A rush of adrenaline washed through him as the sound of the man’s voice rang over the hills. Hikaru was curious now and on small white paws carried himself to the arena.

He was easy to see against a monochrome background, but his stormy eyes were filled with the confidence of a real Iga. He may not have been able to claim his affiliation but he’d been born to them and despite his differences, the spirit lived on. He lifted his head high and gave an eager grin as he sized his opponent up. Already loosening his limbs and bending his joints as he prepared for a spar.

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