Hi. This is not only my first work of Naruto fanfiction, but my first work of anime fanfiction in years, so please be kind. This is a semi-lighthearted AU high school scenario, so there are many stereotypes to be had, but I hope this can defy some of those over-used plot devices and become something genuinely interesting and enjoyable for you. And also:

aristeia (Greek: "excellence") n. a scene (such as in Homer's Iliad) of great elaboration depicting the majesty of a great hero's finest moments in battle

March 5, 2011


The Aristeia of a High School War Hero

by Seph Lorraine


The schoolyard was alive with students, moving about energetically, trying to work out pent up nerves from sitting through three periods of mundane classes. Beneath the overhanging brick siding of a hallway leading to the cafeteria, a group of teens goofed about a pair of stone benches, while a group of girls dominated the table and chairs near the exit of the math wing, scooting over to make room for their friends, but keeping watchful eyes upon the door.

At the precise stroke of 12:35, a senior would come strolling through those doors like clockwork. He would push open the door, glance at his watch (a classic, antiqued brass with mother of pearl face and silver inlay), cast a cursory glance at the group of tittering girls, and cross the yard into the cafeteria. There he would toss down a brown paper bag with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a ziplock bag of red grapes next to another senior with dark red hair and a formidable tattoo, and have lunch.

It was baffling, really, why this group of bubbling chicklettes waited everyday for this precise moment. Not for the squeaky opening of the rusty green door. Nor for the startled company incurred by sandwich-to-table contact. Not even for the sheer image of beauty as the dark haired senior passed by their table in a manner that could only be described as 'slinking'. No, it was for that sheer moment, somewhere around 12:35:43AM, when those deep pools of soulful emo would turn up-no doubt with the grace of a black swan taking flight towards the glowing moon-from that delicate wristlet to glance at them.

He would glance. A moment of honest recognition. A moment of understood familiarity. Nonetheless, a binding connection until gradutation between him and the whimpering table of dollfaces.

He was the dark, dreary emo sun that lit their skies and hearts a'fire.

They were an affirmation that yes, he was almost to the cafeteria.

The lunch buzz did not stop with him, however, like that unfortunate group thought it did: Right by the exit of the cafeteria, through a pair of glass doors, a group of students flung pudding at one another on white plastic spoons. Not five paces from them a group of boys assaulted a stingy vending machine. And at the far end of the courtyard, beyond a group of girls munching celery and pretzels and practicing yoga, barely concealed by the outcropping of the band room, three boys stood motionlessly staring at the roof.

"Why does this always happen? I thought we were going to start kicking it more gently now." Shikamaru spoke dully, staring at the dark green gutter outcropping from the edge of the roof.

"For real, that's like the third one this week." Kiba spoke dully, narrowing his eyes at the blond to his right.

Naruto looked somewhat apologetic, "Sorry. I kinda' got distracted."

Kiba groaned, moving to step into the blond's field of vision. Across the yard, a pair of legs and a bob of carefully cropped pink hair stood joking with a group of girls, their laughter bubbling across the breezeway, "Man, you've gotta' stop moping after her. She's not even cool anymore, anyway. I mean, I hear she's on prom committee now. Real exciting."

The blond rolled his eyes, "There's nothing wrong with being social or involved." He stared a little longer, as if trying to assure himself, "And she's a good leader-figure anyway. She's really got her head on straight and stuff, you know."

Behind him, Shikamaru snorted, "And a nice rack."

"Are you shitting me right now?" The scruffy haired boy looked back at his blond friend, "She's a fangirl."

Blue eyes glared, "She's really into her hobbies."

"Yeah, stalking."

"She's not a stalker."

"What would you call it, then?"

The blond was quiet for a moment, "Enthusiasm?"

Shikamaru snorted again, this time accompanied with a loud scraping sound, that made the other two turn to regard him, as he stood leaning over to push the table towards the wall. "I don't know about you assholes, but I want my fucking hacky sack back."


In the cafeteria, Gaara jumped as a brown paper bag made emphatic impact with the table beside his face.

It really shouldn't have scared him anymore, at this point in the school year.

He pealed his cheek off of the table-top sluggishly, and rubbed at it, blinking several times to make himself look more lively.

Sasuke merely glanced back out the window, towards the yard through which he had come and began to unrap his lunch.

"Those damn pudding-flingers, at it again, eh." The redhead muttered as a blob of tapioca hit the window.

"Hn." The dark haired boy rolled his eyes and took a bite out of his sandwich, eyes remaining locked through the window outside.

Gaara nodded drowsily for a moment longer, but just as he had worked up the motivation to lay his head back down on the table for a hard-earned nap, the brunette spoke.

"D'you think he has a girlfriend?"

The redhead blinked his green eyes and turned in the direction of his friend's stare, his eyes came upon Neiji, from his history class, flipping listlessly through a book. "Huh. I don't know. He's not bad looking. I imagine there probably exist a few interested parties."

"Hn..." Sasuke narrowed his eyes, "I've only seen him talking to the pink-haired girl."

"Huh." Gaara frowned, not really interested. "Ok then."

"And really. Who goes after a guy who plays hacky sack at lunch?"

"Yeah..." Green eyes surveyed the table-top longingly.

The Uchiha chewed his peanut butter and jelly.

Gaara frowned and looked back out the window, "Wait. Who the hell are you talking about?"

Suddenly his eyes came to rest upon a group of boys, piling upon a table to reach the roof. At the top of that pile, resting in a teeteringly troublesome position on a spiky-haired boys back was the blond that sat in front of him in home economics. The boy whose inedible wonders, produced day by day in a cloud of smoke next to the art room, enraged their teacher and made Gaara's skin heat with arousal.

Oh no. Not him. Anyone but him.


(Dun dun duuuun) To be continued.