A/N: UNBELIEVABLE! One of my stories, A Queen and Her King, got deleted! All because it had the f-word in the summary! And on top of that, another story I know not which one it is, has disappeared from my list, presumably for not rating it correctly. I'm feeling seriously depressed now. What the heck is this! I strive my utmost on these stories and the admins delete two of them like they're nothing!

In others news, I recently got into the History's Mightiest Disciple Kenichi! And I have to say, its quite amusing!

"You...can't have him. He's...mine."

~Shigure.

Ninja

Shirahama Kenichi had a problem. A big problem. He was weak. Also known as "Weak Legs" he was constantly bullied and battered by his senpai and fellow students. To make matters even worse, he now had less than a week to train for a fight with Daimonji. One week. Seven days. Four hundred and twenty hours. As if he could possibly become strong by then! Well, there was one way, one his new acquaintace, Furinji Miu had suggested, but he was absolutely loathe to make the attempt.

In short, he was doomed.

Doomed, I say!

Right?

Wrong.

In his haste to escape the schoolgrounds, Shirahama Kenich failed to notice where his legs were leading him. That is, until the rhythmic slap of flesh meeting mortar reached his ears; the steady pounding of someone in the midst of workout. Belatedly, he realized where he stood. The gymnasium. Oh no! This was the last place he wanted to be! A shiver ran down his spine, trickling across his skin in gooseflesh. This was where the seniors from the Kendo Club held their daily workout regiment!

Only...no one was here?

"One...Two...Three...Four!"

Geh! Someone was here after all! He had to run! This very instant!

Sweating bullets, Kenichi willed his legs to move toward the sound, not away from it.

...Two...Three...Four!"

He rounded the corner in the gymnasium, and nearly ran headlong into a fellow student. The boy was tall, blond, his whiskered cheeks slick with perspiration. He wasn't even looking in Kenichi's direction so much as he was the ceiling. He knew only that this boy was a student because he wore a school uniform. A senior, perhaps? As Kenichi looked on, his senpai practiced a few punches, grimaced, shook his head. Unannounced, he began to remove his upper layers clothing, beginning with his shirt. Kenichi skittered back around the corner, silently wondering what the student was up to. An just who was he? He'd never seen this guy before!

Barechested, the senior tossed a glance over his shoulder-Kenichi ducked!-and, satisfied that he was indeed the only one for miles around, rolled his shoulders to begin.

Exhaling once, the boy began a series of workouts; an inhumane regimen utterly impossible for the human body. First, he fired off a rapid series of punches, each blow drilling against the punching bag with all the force of a small hurricane. When the bag bent but refused to break the blond grunted, taking its sturdiness as a personal affront. He took two steps backward, spun in place...

"Hiyah!"

...delivering a bone crushing kick that all but shattered the bag into a thouand fragments of cloth and sand. The blond stood there, regarding the destruction with a frightening complacency. And then he was gone, a swirl of dust the only sign to mark his sudden passage. Some instinct bid Kenichi look up. And it was a good thing he did. He'd only the faintest instant to see the blond standing there, upside down-on the ceiling!-icily regarding one of the two remaining punching bags in the gymnasium. The ceiling cratered but did not break; because even as he leapt, even as he streaked to earth like a shooting star, he flung his fist forward, taped knuckles greeting the gritty fabric of the bag.

Seconds later, it met the fate of its kin.

"This is crazy, senpai!" Kenichi whimpered fearfully as the second bag burst, showering him in sand and debris. "A normal human shouldn't be able to do that!" Then again, he wasn't normal, this guy. Not at all. Becaue even as he landed, the senior was already in motion. His fists found the third and final bag with a wet smaack pumping back to and fro like pulleys, tearing into the last remaining obstacle until it was nothing more than dust.

The boy ended it by launching himself into a brutal backflip, further defying the laws of physics. His body arced upward, twisting as he spun, a full circle. He landed, not on his feet as Kenichi supposedhe might, but upon his hands, fingers extended. Biceps bulging from the strain, the student flung himself backwards using only his arms, throwing, all of his strength into another spin, and then another. Each consecutive flip carried him further and further away until Kenichi was forced to run just to keep up with this amazing acrobat. How could he do such a thing? Wasn't it painful?

Didn't it hurt?

Apparently not, as the boy mercilessly mashed his fingers against the mat, uncaring of the ungodly sound it created. For each flip, he added a second consecutive combination of blows, slinging punches and kicks through midair as though they were nothing. And was that orange eye-shadow above his lids? Not that something like that, actually made any difference.

How is he doing this? Kenichi wondered as he watched him move. Inhuman! He's not human!

Finally he slowed, his final revolution coming to a grinding hault as his feet hit the floor. His shoulders heaved with th exertion of a healthy workout, his chest rising and falling with even, steady breath. He remained that way for a moment longer, knees bent, elbows locked, fixated at some unknown point in the distance. At some unseen signal all fell from his shoulders; the tension, the anxiety, all of it was gone, just for a moment.

He retrieved the discarded shirt from the floor, wrapping it around his right arm. His gaze swept the room once more, again forcing Kenichi to duck out of sight, and when he'd next returned his gaze to the broken bags, his gaze had become intense. Shirahama Kenichi quivered, such was his glare.

S-Scary!

"Not enough." The blond muttered quietly, settling out of his stance. "It's still not enough." His fingers grew taut mangnanimously moldig themselves into fists. Whatever that strange coloration was adjourning his lids, it was gone now, his eyes restored to their natural hue. Those eyes held murder in them. A hate so strong, so intense Kenichi could only begin to wonder at it. What could someone-anyone-have done to stir such hatred in this young man?

Ah! Kenichi came back to himself nearly too late; the student was turning to leave!

"Wait!"

The boy stopped in his tracks, his face slowly reappearing over his shoulder as he curiously regarded the one who had spoken. A look of irritation crossed his single eye as he saw the boy; none other than Kenichi himself, the exhausted student standing behind him. He frowned. Pinnioned him with a gaze.

"You saw?" He asked, his words little more than a growl.

"I-I-I didn't see anything!" Kenichi protested, flinging both arms before his face.

There was a silence. Then:

"Good." The boy nodded, whiskered cheeks dimpling in a scowl. "I'm nearly out of chakra. I'd hate to waste the rest of it just to put you under genjutsu."

"Genjutsu?"

"Forget you heard anything." The boy waved it off. "Another word and I really will have to put you under." He slung a small traveling bag over his shoulder, where he'd hidden it, Kenichi had no means of knowing. "Oh, and one more thing." He paused, a frightening grin tugging at his lips. "If you utter so much as a single syllable of what you did not see to anyone, anyone at all, this will be the least of your worries."

"H-Hai!"

"Please, wait!" It was then that Kenichi made a mistake. He reached outward, his fingers brushing the blonde's shoulder. The result was as immediate as it was violent. Stars-whole planets!-exploded before his vision as the upperclassmen rounded on him, driving an elbow into his ribs, driving the wind from poor Kenichi's lungs and easily depriving his body of much needed oxygen. It was like getting hit by a ten ton truck.

Kenichi had time for only a small exclamation.

"Oh."

Then he was pushed. Kenichi felt the release of something, deep within the boy. Something raw, all encompassing, and utterly, rechidly vile. It felt as if all the hatred and lust and loathing in all the universe had been compressed into a very small ball, compacted beyond measure, then release as one, gigantic flare. Then he felt as though the world moved out from under him, sucking all the air with it. The words fell from his lips, and suddenly, he was flying. His head snapped forward and the rain boiled around him. The air itself seemed to hurt, he was moving so fast. The blond receded into the distance with uncanny speed.

How far he'd been pushed, he couldn't tell. It seemed to last forever but he knew he had to hit the ground sometime. Oh, he hoped it would be soon. He wasn't all particularly fond of flying, nor of the sensation of weightlessness beneeath him.

But landing was going to hurt.

It did hurt.

His back collided with the grass turf outside, only after hurtling through several layers of concrete and steel. Dazed, Kenichi extended a hand, reaching toward the gaping hole formed by his unnanounced exit. The sound of footsteps clouded his vision as he flopped toward the earh for a second time, gazing up at the evening sun, thrusting its great reddened spikes just beyond the horizon. Above him stood the student; scowling down at him, his single, uncovered eye pulsating an eerie, bloodshot red. Was it...spinning?

"Sorry." He said, almost as an afterthought. "I don't like being touched."

Kenichi didn't care.

Darkness and despair closed in again and he no longer tried to fight them. There was no point. He wasn't sure how many ribs he'd broken, only that it was already, forcing his vision to dim around the edges. So he wasn't entirely certain-nor was he coherent-when someone else stepped into his field of vision.

"Ah, Kenichi-san!"

"He'll live." The blond student grumbled, morosely nudging him in the ribs, eliciting a sharp cry of pain.

"Naruto-san, what were you thinking!" Kenichi had the faintest satisfaction of watching his attacker stagger, struck from behind by a vicsiouc karate chop. The blonde recoiled, eye flaring, but restrained himself from striking at the last instant. And Kenichi, through his steadily darkening vision, saw why. Kneeling beside him, alternating between fury and empathy, was the new transfer student he'd only just met, Furinji Miu.

"Miu...san?"

"He touched me." The blond accused, as though this somehow explained everything.

"He's my first friend!" The transfer student retaliated, furiously. "Just because he touched you doesn't give you the right to kill him!"

"Shigure-chan doesn't hit me." Naruto grumbled, but his tone was sullen. "She never hits me."

"Carry him home!" Miu demanded.

"Eh?"

"I said carry him back to the dojo!"

"Shigure-chan would ask nicely." Naruto was sulking now, arms folded across his chest, petulant. "She wouldn't scream at me."

"Well, I'm not Shigure!"

These were the last words Shirahama Kenichi heard before the blackness consumed him.

A/N: And there you have it. Just a small something to tide the masses over. I'm seriously upset at the loss of A Queen and Her King, and, seeing as I didn't think to back it up, that story is, unfortunately, cancelled T_T Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy this story! Have at ye! The pairing (for now) is NarutoxShigure, an of course Ken

R&R! =D