Enough

The vast mountain range of the Land of Iron loomed before him as he sat down near a shallow pond in the valley before the range. He had a few things he needed to accomplish while still here within the relative safety of his personal home, the village from which he had been raised. Without at least a few abilities with which to defend himself he would be a sitting duck out in the wild and he was to see the whole wide world that would simply not do.

Before commencing with anything else, he would need to train his body at least a slight bit.
Luckily a life of fighting and defending himself from the horrors of his slavish past had taught him a thing or two as far as the proper way in which to hold himself and thus he began to move through a few simple warm up exercises to prepare himself for the rather light bout of training that was to ensue. After warming himself up he would then be fully prepared to finalize his own personal training, gaining a skill which would dupe the world.

He had found, some time ago, that he had begun to come to understand the way in which not only he preferred to move but also the manner in which others tended to move.
A life of constant observation of those who would do him harm led him to either fight or die and to fight another was to, in a deep way, understand that person. To know another's body as clearly as you knew your own led to the path of victory. Conversely, to feed your opponent false knowledge would keep them from treading that sacred walk.

A punch occurred, or would have to anyone watching and knowledgeable as far as the body went. A medic may have thought a miracle had transpired. A ninjutsu master would have noticed nothing. A warrior of the body facing him would doubtlessly have blocked wrong and suffered the opposite side kick that he had actually prepared. He snickered then to himself, musing at what the legendary ninja eyes would do when facing such a maneuver. He had become the lyrebird.