Ronku just finished his daily work on his grain farm, which involved using a scythe to harvest the grain. He changed out of his dirty clothes and began to mentally get in tune with his night time training routine. On his way out of his small red farm home, Ronku's mother told him "be back before 11 P.M., I'll have dinner ready by then, I'm making your favorite chicken chili soup!"

Ronku replied with a simple "Thank you mother, I'll be sure to be back by then." Ronku looked at the clock, it was 7 P.M., he had four hours to get in some much-needed training. Ronku walked a few steps out of the front door and waved farewell to his mother before he closed the door. Ronku gazed up to the stars that shone brightly on this side of town where there were no lights, but a few candlelit houses on the horizon. Ronku dug through his pocket and pulled out a cherry-flavored cigarillo and rested it in the left corner of his mouth, he cupped it with his lips and gently rested his teeth on the base of the cigarillo. He pulled out a box of matches and struck a match against the gritty side of the package, a quiet sizzle sound made Ronku's neck hair stand up. He took the small flame and simultaneously cupped the tip of the cigarillo and dipped the match into the front of the cigarillo and Ronku took a few puffs. The tip of the cigarillo glowed red, and he proceeded to whip his hand at his side to vanquish the flame of the match. Ronku took a few rips from the cigarillo to ensure it stayed lit, and in a few moments his skin began to crawl, he could feel his blood pressure going up, his body appeared more vascular. Ronku wore a clean blue tank top made of 100% pure cotton, with blue jeans and a belt, and a pair of black flat sneakers and some black ankle socks. He grabbed his gourd full of water off of the porch that held a gallon of water, and a few citrus fruits from the tree that grew right up against the house. With that he was prepared for a perfect night of training, he made his way to his usual training spot, an abandoned mine shaft only a few miles away from the village walls. Ronku walked through the pitch-black desert with little more than the embers of his cigarette to light his way, but he knew where he was going from pure muscle memory.

The cave was made of sandstone and it had a twenty-foot walkway, down into an open area which was 800 sq ft. and had a ten-foot-tall ceiling. The cave smelled like a gym and had blood stains all around the cave floor. Ronku entered the cave as he used his hands to guide his way, and with a sharp right turn into the open room, Ronku bent down and flicked his cigarette over a pile of sticks and wood shavings which caused an eruption of fire. Ronku threw a few logs on the fire, and the cave was light up and grew increasingly hotter. The cave made a strange wind draft due to its shape that caused most of the smoke to flood out of the walkway instead of sitting in the open area. From a distance, one would be able to see the orange glow from outside the cave, since the walkway was a straight shot to the open room. Just above the small fire was the Suna ninja symbol painted in blood.

Ronku emptied his pockets and set down his gourd of water, and threw his cigarillo on the ground, and stomped it out. He glanced down at his fists which were still scabbed up from the prior days training, and with a slight gripping motion he warmed up his hands to prepare. Ronku took position raising his hands to his face like a boxer, and he hopped back and forth feet away from the cave wall opposite the walkway. Thus he had his back faced towards the entrance, and his eyes set on the wall in front of him. A slight four-inch circular indentation was in the wall, and blood was caked up thick in this indentation. Ronku feeling warmed up began. He thrust his left-hand forward feelings the contact between his scabbed fists and the wall, instantly his hand went numb, and his bones felt like they had just broken. He threw his right fist into the wall. And then the left, and then again with his right hand. He roared letting out a deep bellow, and in a matter of minutes the scabs were freshly opened and blood rained down once again, a sight all too familiar to Ronku. His hands were numb, and with this, he had nothing to hold him back. He went another round constantly hopping on his toes and he integrated dodging into his movements. He continued to train with the cave growing warmer and warmer from the large fire in the room. Ronku yelled at himself "come on!!!! You will never get anywhere with these weak punches."

WC:871