Relax.
Your body is a powerful tool, crafted by years of work and training, built to overcome any obstacle, to slay any foe.
Yet you are rigid. Your resolve and tenacity are admirable, but your refusal to adapt in the face of adversity has already cost you so much. You have much to learn…
“And you aren’t here anymore to teach me.”
Though the Vytal Festival tournament continued to be an exciting venture, the experience was quickly soured with Caja and Budonoki’s farewell. Their departure made sense, yes, Juno’s endeavours had made it difficult for the recovering girl to lead anything resembling a peaceful life, something his recent trip to Mistral could attest to. While he was sad to see them go, their departure left him feeling… lost. Without Budonoki, refining his aura was a near monumental task.
Malina was right. His reliance on his tech had stunted his growth, and sooner or later, he would have to play catch-up.
Where to start, however, was another story.
Refining the physical manifestation of one’s soul was no easy task, as it turned out. After all, it wasn’t like there were any guides or tried and true methods for soul searching. There were too many souls in the world, and there was too much variety between them. Supposedly clearing one’s mind helped, but it was always easier with Budonoki around. One could only meditate for so long on one’s own before becoming frustrated with a lack of inner peace.
So there Juno sat in the training hall, simply observing other students as they fine tuned their craft, his eyes narrowing as he lamented his current situation. However, his attention was quickly diverted by a familiar looking student not too far from where he sat, his interest piqued as she displayed the very same technique he had seen Coconut use in their fight. So it wasn’t his semblance… Was it possible he could replicate that attack as well? It seemed rather advanced, but, quite frankly, it was cool as all hell. Taking a moment to mull over the pros and cons of approaching the student, Juno eventually stood up, his hand resting on Type: J’s hilt as he strode toward her, pausing a moment as he recognized the girl. Prism… Prim... Prisma? The hummingbird faunus another one of the semi finalists in the tournament, and happened to be one of Coconut’s teammates.
Hopefully she wasn’t peeved about him punching her teammate through a tree.
”Hey,” he called out as he approached, only to stop at the entrance to the stall she occupied. ”It’s... Prism, right?”