A/N: A project for school I thought you might enjoy~
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As Yakushi Kabuto passed down the sun-warmed hall, an unfamiliar sight caught his attention, and he paused mid-step. Glancing surreptitiously about to be sure no one was nearby to observe, the young ninja turned to examine his reflection in the newly-cleaned glass of the Academy window.
The figure that returned his inquisitive gaze was that of a young boy, no more than about nine or ten years old. He was draped in baggy purple cloth that did not quite hide his childish frame, soft skin and shortish limbs betraying his youth and lending an air of innocence and inexperience to his presence. A round and somewhat babyish face, void of the firm shapes and stress lines that might be expected on an older being, peeked over the high collar with a soft pout of concentration on its expressive lips.
He had a bookish look about him, Kabuto thought, intelligent but mousy. The musky scent of old books did indeed linger on his clothes, and the old-fashioned pair of too-large spectacles slipping down his small, round nose added to the bookworm appearance. His eyes were sad, black gems set in contrast to the clean canvas of his pale skin - bright, mournful pools of dark ice reflecting the bright summer noon that existed beyond his phantom image in the window. When he shifted on his sandaled feet, there was a fleeting moment when the crystal of his glasses reflected the sunlight pouring into the hallway, temporarily reversing the role of magnification they had previously served; but it was merely a moment, and then those all-absorbing eyes were once again turned on the world.
Just caressing the tops of his faint brows, dusty gray bangs fell in a shy curtain, framing the bold representation of a leaf carved into his shiny new hitai-atae, the metal-and-cloth headband proclaiming him an official genin of the Leaf Village. Kabuto's dark gaze lingered on the object, the new and unfamiliar thing that had caught his eye as he passed by his reflection in the window. Its clean metal plate straddled his brow with confidence, proclaiming the Village's possession of the child - the shinobi - who bore its mark. He had secured the bright banner of blue cloth that held the symbol in place with a tight knot at the back of his head, just above the scrap of string that kept his dull, nickel-hued hair pulled into a ponytail trailing softly down to his shoulders.
The curiosity faded from Kabuto's gaze as his eyes fixed on the Leaf's symbol; gentle fingertips reaching up to brush the cool metal, a muted sigh escaped Kabuto's soft lips. His observations were interrupted, however, at the sound of sharp, even footsteps echoing some ways down the hallway. Dropping his hand and stuffing it into a pocket, the young ninja continued on his way, ambling right along and leaving no traces to betray his moment of self-assessment.