MAELSTRÖM
original concept by Diet Soda
written by A. E. Stover
this version is not edited
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Originally written in early 2007 under the title "Breaking the Rules" by Diet Soda, MAELSTRÖM had been revised in the fall of 2009 by a small team of writers, including Diet Soda and myself. Irreconcilable differences broke the team apart in 2011, which resulted in the subsequent taking down of the story.
In early 2012, Diet Soda pulled away from fanfiction to pursue other interests, and left MAELSTRÖM and other works to me. It is with much gratitude to Diet Soda that I now present this to you, Reader, and hope that this new revision is well received.
MAELSTRÖM is a novel-length story with its central focus on themes and motifs such as: personal growth; issues faced in adapting to new environments; sacrifices made in order to adjust; the struggle of the past in the present; the extents and limits of loyalty amongst friends; coming to terms with the true nature of self; the selfish nature of man; etc.
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(It is twenty after six on an April morning, Monday the fifth.)
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She raised the scissors up to her face and snipped. Strands of brightly-colored hair floated to a sheet of old newspaper dated back three weeks.
She looked at herself in the mirror and ran her hands through her unfamiliar hair. After a while, she exchanged her scissors for a red ribbon and carefully began to tie back her short, short hair.
"You cut your hair."
She jolted, pulling prematurely on the bow, and wheeled herself around on the stool in shock. "Don't do that," she breathed accusingly. "You scared me." She pulled the ribbon off and turned back to the mirror to try again. Then she stopped with a start and whirled again. "What are you doing here?" She stood and began pushing him away, the ribbon fisted in her hand. "How did you even get here? Did you—"
Her window was wide open.
"My window — You came in through my window?" She sent the ribbon in her hand fluttering toward him, and watched with great annoyance as he simply reached out with a hand to catch it.
"You came in through my window. Are you insane? What if you fell? You could've died! I can't believe you — I can't believe you climbed up to my window! Do you know how creepy that even is?"
"Why did you cut your hair?"
"What? Who the hell cares why I — Why did you break into my room?"
They stared at each other, a furious glare clashing with an amused gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally relented.
She came forward and snatching her ribbon from his hand. She could feel his eyes on her as she stuffed the ribbon away in a drawer. "I cut my hair for the new school year. I wanted a little change."
At this, Sasuke snorted. "Some change."
"Shut up, Sasuke."
She was a little surprised that he promptly did so, not making an additional comment or remark after that. It might have been because she hadn't used the usual suffix she did. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't because she'd snapped at him. Not in the slightest. Nothing she did mattered to him anyway.
Then why wasn't he saying anything?
She bit her lip. Maybe… Maybe this time, she'd managed to hurt him? Maybe he'd come wanting to tell her something important — something she'd wanted to hear for the longest time now. But that was ridiculous. He would have told her right from the start. They would've been the first words out of his mouth. Instead, he had said, "You cut your hair."
So what if she cut her hair? What difference did that make to him? She cut her hair because she wanted to. She wanted a change. A change in style; for the new school year, just like she'd said. For a change in style, and nothing more.
But still… What if he was taken aback by her words? She certainly hadn't meant to snap at him; she should have known better by now that he would never change. He always did want he wanted, when he wanted. So he was a little spoiled… She had learned to handle that. She was capable of… She was capable of handling someone like him. She had to — She was the only one who could.
The only one who was still willing to.
With a defeated sigh she turned around, only to see him lying on her unmade bed scrolling through his phone. Whatever resolve she'd made about dealing with Sasuke vanished. She marched to her bed and snatched his phone away.
Or she tried to, at least. Sasuke caught her wrist before she could place a finger on his phone. What was worse was that he wasn't even looking at her.
Feeling confrontation pointless, as it always was with him, she sighed her anger away.
"Sorry," Sasuke began suddenly, the word dropping off his tongue with little to no meaning. "I was busy."
She pursed her lips, moving to sit at the edge of her bed, before answering. "Clearly."
"There's a new student transferring in today," Sasuke said, putting his phone down on her bed. "He's in our year."
She caught the look in Sasuke's eye. "You know him."
A rare moment of hesitation, then; "His name rings a bell."
"Where is he transferring from?"
"New York."
Her next words tumbled out before she could stop herself; "Don't you think you should at least try speaking to your brother before—"
"No." Anger flashed briefly in his eyes.
She watched as Sasuke struggled to prevent an odd array of emotions from surfacing on his face. To say that he was still reeling from the shock of his brother's betrayal of Mangekyo Industries was an understatement. When Uchiha Fugaku had been hospitalized for poor health, Sasuke's older brother had taken his place as the President as originally intended. But Itachi had suddenly sold the seat to a top competitor and left the country, disappearing into the American market.
There was a shadow that fell over Sasuke's face, and she patted his hand gently to ease him out of the internal monologue he'd lost himself in. When he lifted his dark eyes to her's, she smiled.
He raised a brow in question, the shadow rising with it.
"What's his name?" she asked. "Is he a foreigner?"
Sasuke shook his head. "I don't think so. He has a Japanese name," he said, picking up his phone again. He quickly unlocked his phone and flashed her the screen.
She leaned in to read the characters. "Uzumaki… Naruto? That's an odd name." The name reminded her of the naruto found in steaming bowls of ramen. The warm, salty broth and tender slices of meat coupled with springy noodles, pickled bamboo shoots, red ginger, and onsen tamago was difficult to push out of her head and she found herself suddenly craving for a bowl of her own. "Naruto," she repeated again with a smile. "I like it."
"He's been here for a few days already. His apartment is in Konoha East — not the kind of place I would've imagined a guy like him to stay in."
Even after three years, what Sasuke could get out of this city was frightening. He had strong connections in Konoha; he had to, if he was intent on regaining the family business from Soundings, the rival corporation that Itachi had sold all of Mangekyo Industries to. But the level of control he had in Konoha, built purely with intimidation and other less than moral means, was frightening.
"Why do you say that?" she asked, wondering who this Naruto person was. There was a brief moment of hesitation before he replied;
"His family was recently made the head of a large tech industry based in New York. Recently, meaning about ten years ago. I would've imagined him to settle down in Konoha Central like the nouveau-riche tend to do. Instead, he's in a blue-collar neighborhood renting a studio apartment."
"Maybe it's a different Naruto?" she offered helpfully.
"Impossible. My sources are never wrong."
She wanted to ask who his sources were, but she knew better than to ask. There were just some things he couldn't tell her, he had once told her. What those reasons were, she could only imagine.
For her own safety? she wondered more than once, and those were the days when she was still in love with him. But as each year passed, and as he built up his empire piece by piece, she had come to realize that it wasn't for her safety at all. It was for his own. He couldn't risk the loss of information, no matter how small. That's why he didn't tell anyone what he wanted, what he planned, what came next. His trust for her was the same as his trust for the people he used to extract information from, and she was held accordingly — at an arm's length, no more and no less.
"Hey, Sakura. I need a favor."
But it destroyed her.
"Hm?"
Because despite the way he saw her, she had always given him her all.
"Get to know him for me. See what he's like. Find out why he's here and what he's doing. Can you do that?"
Her trust, her love, her devotion — everything she had done was for him.
She smile with practiced ease. "Of course," she said, and meant it.
— everything she had done was for him.
Except this time.
"Anything for you, Sasuke-kun."
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(It is three-thirty in the afternoon on a Monday; the fifth of April.)
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Forty minutes after the bell had rung, she logged onto the school network on her phone.
The lights in the train car were bright and pitched a glare on her screen. When she leaned to the left, it was gone. But her back began to strain and she had to lean back. The glare returned, proudly splashing itself across the screen. She leaned to the left again to make it disappear a second time. A small red light flashed from the tiny light on the top left corner of her phone just as the strain in her back returned.
It was a message.
= irockyourworld =
The first day of school has come and gone!
How was your day?
As usual, he was the first to be on. She wondered how often he logged onto the network; he always seemed to be on. Did he keep himself logged on all the time?
She typed her response:
= hinachan xox =
Good afternoon :)
= irockyourworld =
Wasn't it exciting?
Were you inspired?
Doesn't the first day of school always make you want to do your best for the coming year?
It always fires me up!
She could almost hear him speaking, his energy beaming up at her from the screen. She laughed quietly to herself, a smile curving the corners of her pretty mouth.
= aishoujo =
it was okay
= hinachan xox =
I was surprised that the class sizes were larger this year
= aishoujo =
i just hope that guy's gonna be okay
Her sempai's words plunged her mind into a fearful race. Had something happened already? Was everyone okay? How big was the incident? Why hadn't she known? Who knew about it? Did anyone close to her know what happened? Why didn't anyone tell her?
= irockyourworld =
?
At the confusion of her other sempai, her thoughts slowly came to a stop and the panic in her heart began to settle. Her thumb tapped out a response:
= hinachan xox =
What do you mean?
= aishoujo =
you didn't hear?
our dearest captain selected someone this morning
She wasn't sure what an appropriate response was, so she replied with care the typical kind of answer:
= hinachan xox =
I hope he will be alright.
= irockyourworld =
I don't think it's true.
= aishoujo =
oh? why not?
= irockyourworld =
It's too early in the year.
I don't think taichou would choose someone on the first day.
= aishoujo =
well, i'm sure there's a reason for it
= irockyourworld =
And a transfer student?
I don't think so.
= phantomhive = has just joined the chat.
She felt an odd wave run past her at the new addition to the chat. It was rare to see him logged onto the network. She wondered if something had happened after all as she typed a greeting.
= aishoujo =
maybe he knew the new guy was coming?
= hinachan xox =
Hello :)
= aishoujo =
he's the kind of person who knows these things in advance somehow, right?
= phantomhive =
We should not be having this conversation on the school network.
= hinachan xox =
It's good to see you here again.
= aishoujo =
or maybe it was a planned transfer?
= hinachan xox =
Sorry.
= irockyourworld =
Transferring schools in order to reach a settlement?
= aishoujo =
...well, if you put it like that...
= phantomhive =
The purpose of the school network's instant messaging system is to allow the students to reach the members of the student council, faculty, and staff with their questions, concerns, and suggestions.
She could hear his monotone voice dictating the rules of the school network by heart. She tried not to laugh. She was still on the train; there were other people around her so she pressed a hand to her lips. Her shoulders shivered slightly; a girl next to her peered at her curiously.
= phantomhive =
Members of the student council, faculty, and staff are required to log on and spend time responding to students.
It is a place of information and learning.
Not a place for gossip.
= irockyourworld =
Your seriousness is admirable!
You put your sempai to shame!
= hinachan xox =
Sorry.
= aishoujo =
okay, fine
then i'm coming forward as a student and asking about taichou's selection this year!
i demand that you tell me!
= hinachan xox =
I don't think that's permissible...
= phantomhive =
Please restate your inquiry in the proper form of a question.
= aishoujo =
...
seriously?
you gotta be kidding me
= irockyourworld =
We have to be good role models for the students, remember?
= hinachan xox =
That's correct
= aishoujo =
but there's nobody even here!
ugh
whatever
She imagined seeing the girl's shoulders slump in defeat, her sempai's pouting lips, and the eyeroll she saw so often.
= irockyourworld =
I have to sign off now. My train is going underground.
= aishoujo =
talk to you later~
= irockyourworld =
Goodbye!
= irockyourworld = has just left the chat.
= hinachan xox =
See you again :)
She was late, and she sighed in defeat. She still couldn't type fast enough to keep up, and she tried so hard every day…
= aishoujo =
okay! i got my question!
what is our taichou doing choosing a transfer student on the first day of school?
did he already have prior knowledge of this student?
is this all a part of a secret government conspiracy?
= phantomhive =
Those are three questions.
= aishoujo =
i'm gonna— CONTENT FILTERED FOR INAPPROPRIATE WORDS OR PHRASES —if you don't cut that out
what the...
there's a CENSOR in this place?
= hinachan xox =
Let's not fight here please.
= aishoujo =
you gotta be — CONTENT FILTERED FOR INAPPROPRIATE WORDS OR PHRASES —kidding me
= phantomhive =
Use of inappropriate language: that's strike one.
Three strikes and you will be banned for a week.
= aishoujo =
why, you...
just wait until i see you tomorrow!
i'll beat you up so bad your face won't be recognizable!
= phantomhive =
Threatening fellow students and colleagues: strike two.
She knew this could quickly turn into an argument; her sempai was a passionate woman while the other was the kind to form a wall with his beliefs.
= hinachan xox =
Let's try to stay calm, please.
= aishoujo =
sorry, sorry... i just want my questions answered!
the mystery is killing me!
= phantomhive =
Very well, then.
The manner in which our taichou selects students is classified information. Whether or not this is all part of, as you said, "a secret government conspiracy" is also classified information.
= aishoujo =
...
was that a joke just now?
= phantomhive =
I fail to see the humor in my reply.
= aishoujo =
you're impossible to deal with
= hinachan xox =
I'm sure he didn't mean to be dismissive...
There are certain things that simply can't be discussed here.
= aishoujo =
i'm leaving
= hinachan xox =
We are all bound by the rules.
= phantomhive =
Wait.
= hinachan xox =
I'm sorry.
= aishoujo =
what?
= phantomhive =
All the ladybugs in our garden died this morning.
She felt her heart sink at that; she knew how dear those ladybugs were to him, she knew how every living creature was dear to him.
= aishoujo =
oh, that.
She remembered when the garden in the school's plaza outside the Konoha Elite building was finally finished. She remembered releasing ladybugs and butterflies into the garden with him and her other classmates. She couldn't bear to think that the children and grandchildren of the ladybugs she herself had introduced into the garden were now all gone — dead.
= hinachan xox =
That's so horrible...
= phantomhive =
It is a strange phenomenon for such a large group to die at the same time.
That, combined with our taichou's early selection this year? I think it is an omen.
The girl sitting next to her asked her for the time —it was almost four in the afternoon.
= aishoujo =
the school gardener tried a new pesticide this year on the lettuce and it killed a lot of the bugs
so he used it on all the plants in our school to keep the bugs away or something
As the train moved along, she felt herself being moved down the tracks and through the city; it was a strange sensation, feeling yourself being moved, feeling yourself being jerked forward and back when the train twisted and turned, feeling yourself being shaken when the train clattered on the tracks.
= aishoujo =
...?
okay, like, seven minutes of nothing passed since your last comment.
= hinachan xox =
He must be upset...
= aishoujo =
are you, like, in mourning or something?
= hinachan xox =
They were very important to him.
She tried staying still. She tried keeping absolutely still, but the sudden twists and turns were impossible to predict and prepare for. The jerking was more violent, she found, when she kept her body stiff and immobile.
= aishoujo =
9 minutes.
seriously, it's not a big deal.
= phantomhive =
If members of your family one day dropped dead, would you not consider it a big deal?
= aishoujo =
but i don't have any real family members
= phantomhive =
Are you incapable of imagining situations?
Must you always be shrewd and insensitive!?
A strange sadness washed over her and she thought of the ladybugs again. She understood him; she knew how he felt.
= aishoujo =
...
= hinachan xox =
Please don't fight here.
= aishoujo =
oh, look at the time
= hinachan xox =
I'm sure she didn't mean to offend you
= aishoujo =
i have lot of chores to do
and homework
= phantomhive =
Wait.
= aishoujo =
i'll see you tomorrow~
= phantomhive =
Wait
= hinachan xox =
See you again.
= aishoujo = has just left the chat.
= hinachan xox =
I'm afraid I have to leave soon as well. I'm on the train and my stop is coming up soon.
= phantomhive =
Wait
= hinachan xox =
Goodbye.
I'm sorry.
Is there something wrong?
= phantomhive =
I had to tell her something
But I think it's better to tell you
because your boyfriend has acquainted himself with the new student.
Her thumb quivered above the keypad as she waited for him to continue. He didn't, so she urged him.
= hinachan xox =
Oh.
What is it?
= phantomhive =
Please don't get involved with this year's business.
I have a feeling that this year will not turn out pleasantly.
For some reason, she found herself wondering what the garden would look like now that the ladybugs were gone.
They were all gone; no more bright red dots traveling across emerald leaves, no more crunching their small, fragile bodies between your thumb and forefinger, no more red ladies against the walls of the school building in the afternoon, the red against white like drops of strawberry syrup on vanilla ice cream; no more, no more, no more.
= hinachan xox =
I understand.
= phantomhive =
Take care of yourself, and tell your boyfriend to be careful as well.
She wondered, now that the garden would be without the red ladies, if something would change. Would the garden suffer from their absence? Would the strong beetles, the diligent bees and ants, the beautiful butterflies, or the lonely grasshoppers grieve over the absence of the little red ladybugs as her friend must have done? Was their presence significant in anyone's life? Was there anybody else that cared?
Did anyone even know they existed?
= hinachan xox =
I understand.
Thank you.
As soon as she thanked him, her heart willed her to ask what she had been wondering since she heard the news about taichou earlier that day.
= phantomhive =
I will take my leave now.
= hinachan xox =
Do you think he will be alright?
The new student, I mean.
There was a long while that passed before she received a response. During that time, she took note that her stop was coming close and she took care to make sure she had all her belongings, which weren't much at all.
The train screeched to a stop at the station she passed by twice each day, and yet still remained so foreign to her. She had memorized where the platform the doors would open, she had memorized what it looked like — she could sketch it, if she tried hard enough — and yet she didn't know it.
A man with a briefcase speaking to his wife on the phone left the train from the same car she was in, and so did a woman across from her with her two children. There were crowds that swept in and out of the train every day — did any of these people really know the station? Did anybody care whether or not they knew? She didn't know.
The train pulled away and the light at the top corner of her phone blinked rapidly, indicating that she had a new message.
= phantomhive =
It is too early to hypothesize.
I apologize.
= phantomhive = has just left the chat.
She watched him sign off as soon as he posted his reply, and she stared at it for some time. She began to type her reply to no one, thinking all the while about the foreign station and of the empty garden in the plaza at school.
= hinachan xox =
I see.
Thank you.
Sorry.
What was she sorry about? She didn't know. But she felt that it was appropriate to apologize.
She waited a few moments longer in case there were new first-year students in need of guidance who logged onto the network, but she knew how unlikely that was on the first day; the network wasn't busy until the second week, when students began to settle in at last and when the first-years began to understand their surroundings and get a feel for where they belonged.
The train began to slow down and screech across the tracks — it was time. She gathered her belongings, her bag and her self, and moved near the doors.
She was the only one in this car getting off at this station, the station she walked through twice a day, the station that saw her off every morning and welcomed her back every afternoon, every day for three years. Did that mean she knew the station? Did that mean she understood the station's cast-iron frame and the mosaic artwork along the walls? She'd walked past it over two-thousand times now, she knew where the tulips turned into roses and where the roses turned into butterflies, and so on and so forth.
Did that make her know the station?
She walked on, clutching her phone tight in her hand because she felt that it was her last connection to the ladybugs she had set free as a freshman in the summer, the poor red ladies who were now gone.
She felt for a brief moment the utter stupidity of her clinging onto the imaginary remains of a bunch of dead ladybugs, and she flushed hotly at her own naivety and childishness. She wanted to leave the chat right then, but what if there was someone who wanted to discuss the sudden disappearance of the ladybugs in the garden? If she didn't remain online, that person would be alone in their thoughts, and she knew that was never really a good thing.
She tightened her grip on her phone, her mind teetering back and forth between a decision. Finally, just as she entered the entrance of her home, she came to one.
= hinachan xox = has just left the chat.
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There is no one in the chat.
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(It is eight o'clock in the morning. The date is April fifth — a Monday.)
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(It is the start of a new year.)
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(Aren't you excited?)
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(Wait.)
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(What's that?)
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(On your face?)
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tHER'es s□MethING □n y□UR f∆Ce
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(Are those tears?)
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(Are you crying?)
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(Are you crying with excitement?)
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(With joy?)
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(Or are you crying—
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—iN dESP∆∆∆aaiR?
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(It is the morning of April fifth, ten before seven-thirty on a Monday morning.)
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(From the outside, the school looked just like any other.)
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"My apologies. I had to rescue a family of deer from a huntsman this morning."
To his surprise, the class replied with good cheer. "You're late, Kakashi-sensei."
Kakashi looked up at his new collection of students, their unknown faces staring at him with varying expressions. "Well," he began, "this isn't fair. Looks like everyone's already well acquainted with me. And here I am, not knowing the name of even a single one of my adorable new students."
He took in their cheeky faces as he fingered his chin with a thoughtful hum.
"I suppose it's only fair," he continued, "that I return the favor and get to know each and every one of you on a more personal level. How does a genealogy project sound? Clearly you're all bright and intelligent scholars, so leaving you with two chapters worth of subject material to study independently won't be an issue. I'll be expecting you to go back at least ten generations, and to include all of your extended family members. Oh. I should probably add that I don't take family massacres or orphan stories as excuses, so don't even try."
The shock that fell over the students chilled the room.
After a few beats, Kakashi raised a hand to them. "Just kidding," he chuckled. "If I went off our syllabus on a whim like that, the headmaster would have my head." He watched the class falter collectively, a few sighs releasing anxiety into the air and shaky laughs tumbling out before him like a game of jacks.
"Now, for roll call." Kakashi opened a blue folder and held it up. "Just call out when you hear your name… Oh? What's this?" Fitted along with the class roster was a notice informing Kakashi of the arrival of a new student. "Hm. This feels vaguely like the time I finally got the prize inside the cereal box…" He looked up and, sure enough, there was an empty seat in the third row waiting to be filled. "Looks like this year is going to be interesting."
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(But on the inside—)
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Before anyone could ask him what he meant, the wood-paneled door rattled open to present an almost ominous-looking figure looming silently in the entryway. Static tension overcame the room as the students fixed their eyes on the newcomer.
At the silence, Kakashi lifted his eyes to the door and was met with a piercing gaze. "…Sasuke? Do you need something?" He watched Sasuke survey the room carefully before landing his gaze on the only empty seat in his classroom.
"No," he finally answered. "Just visiting."
The silence that continued to fill the room was suffocating, and every eye was on Sasuke as he slowly made his way to the only available seat in the classroom. Once seated, he simply folded his hands in front of his face and gave Kakashi an expectant look.
Kakashi returned Sasuke's gaze, briefly, before looking down at the memo tucked into his attendance folder notifying him of his new student. There was a picture paper-clipped to it, showing a young boy with hair the color of gold and eyes the color of the summer sky. Uzumaki Naruto, read the boy's name.
A tight knot of dread sank heavily into the pit of his stomach because — now — Kakashi knew what was going on.
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(—the school harbored a dark secret of a dangerous game.)
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Just then, the door rattled open to make way for a student whom Kakashi immediately identified as the one mentioned in the note in his hands. Kakashi's eyes moved quickly to Sasuke, who for a brief moment appeared perplexed, before turning back to the new student.
The boy was too busy containing his anxiety to notice the way Sasuke was staring at him. His eyes were a little wide with uncertainty, and he had the disheveled appearance of someone who had just finished running a marathon, sans the heavy breathing.
"Oh," Kakashi finally managed to say. "Here he is."
He ushered the boy in and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Everyone, we have a new student joining us this year!" His voice rang through the class, sounding too loud in the dull silence that seemed to go on forever.
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(And this boy—)
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There was a frighteningly calm look on Sasuke's face when Kakashi switched his gaze back to him; a look that plunged ice into his veins when he caught it ― and the teacher forced a smile. Holding the new student closer to him, his eyes never leaving Sasuke, he urged: "Remember that Konoha students look out for one another. We are all family here, so treat him well. Understood?"
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(—had no idea that he was in the middle of it all.)
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"Yes, sir," came the unanimous reply from his class, except for one dark-haired student seated in the back, who looked as if he had finally pieced together the last of a rather long and difficult puzzle; a victorious, confident look appeared fleetingly in his eyes before he became unnaturally calm once more.
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(And how long will he last?)
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(Who knows?)
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The date is March twenty-third. It is ten-thirty in the morning.
We will be at the aéroport of Paris-Charles de Gaulle.
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"Flight JL7003 is preparing for departure. Flight JL7003 is preparing for departure. All passengers must be boarded on the plane in fifteen minutes."
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Where will you be?
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Here he was, at the airport of the Charles de Gaulle in Paris, France. And how was he feeling? He was feeling fine, quite fine. There was nothing in the world that could bother him today, and it was true, because that was his resolve; he'd made it when he woke up in the morning today; yes he did.
Here he was, standing at the airport of the Charles de Gaulle in Paris, France. He had his ticket in his hand, and his luggage had been sent through without a hitch. Here he was, turning to look over his shoulder, straining with his ears to hear his name, straining with his eyes to look around him. Here he was, standing at the airport, alone.
But that was silly, he wasn't alone. He was on his way to board his plane, just like everyone else around him. There were plenty of people around him; he couldn't be alone.
Look, there was a mother with her twin sons over there... and a young couple walking hand in hand a little further away. A man with his wife and three children in tow was rushing past him in a hurry. A woman with long, dark hair was walking to his left, and there was a guy with no hair just a few steps in front of him.
And there were more. Men, women, children; young, old; Japanese, lots of Japanese, some French, some some German, Chinese, some even Korean. They were all boarding that plane, the plane he was going to be on soon, very soon, and they were all anxious to board the plane.
"Flight JL7003 is preparing for departure. Flight JL7003 is preparing for departure. All passengers must be boarded on the plane in five minutes. Please have your ticket ready at the gate. All passengers must be boarded on the plane in five minutes..."
Here he was, standing at the airport of the Charles de Gaulle in Paris, France. Here he was, with his ticket in his hand, just like the voice instructed. Here he was, with crowds of people all around him. Here he was, here he was, here he was...
...And there he goes.
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