There is no Character section for this, but it seems to be a living, breathing force all its own. It has secrets and triumphs, hopes and crushed dreams. Who is it?
It Knows
It knows. You wouldn't think it, looking at it, but it knows. It sees everything and it remembers even more. It remembers the red haired girl and the boy with fire in his eyes who held so much passion. It remembers the silvered haired man and the silver haired boy who would never know him. It remembers the unlikely three who would lose each other so violently, only to be pulled together in the worst of ways. It remembers farther back than that. It remembers wars and deaths and births and peace. It remembers the orange boy who sat on the swing in its tree, waiting for the moment he could join his classmates in graduation.
Its walls have stood for as long as the village has stood and it will continue to stand until the day the village falls. It will serve its purpose for as long as it is needed. And when the need is gone, it will fall into disrepair and it will decay and fade away with all of its secrets and stories. For although walls may remember, they cannot speak.
It remembers the rain on the day the girl in white and red and the boy with pale eyes sheltered beneath its eaves. It recalls the way the rain sounded as it hit the roof and ran in rivulets down the shingles to the gutter. It remembers the way the girl had been breathless, like she had been running and how the boy's chest had heaved silently, a wide, cruel slash of red staining his immaculate shirt. It remembers the way the girl had yelled, passion and fury and fear all wrapped together, speaking of incidents and people far removed from it. It remembers the way the boy smiled gratefully at the girl until she broke down in helpless sobs, wrapping slender, strong arms around his bleeding chest. It remembers the way they had tangled together after that, desperately holding onto one another, like the world might be ending and only they could keep it together. It remembers that rainy day beneath its eaves and the whispers and sobs that had been passed there, until there was nothing left but breathlessness and love.
It also remembers the pale eyed girl and the boy with the dog. The dog that left part of itself everywhere, always making sure everyone knew everything belonged to him. It remembers the way the boy with the dog had watched the girl with pale eyes and for how many years. Endless years. It remembers the final day, long after the pale eye girl had become a pale eyed woman and the boy with the dog became the man with the dog. It remembers the sudden exchange, brief and hot and terrible. It remembers fear. And it remembers bliss. It remembers the moment the man looked at the woman and the woman saw the truth and laughed with joy. Laughing at her own foolishness and his hopelessness. Then the man laughed with her and kissed her and swore never to hide the truth from her again. It remembers and it revels in the memory.
It remembers the way the sun shined down on the field the day the boy who moved slowly brought the fierce woman with the taste of sun on her skin to it for the first time.
"This is where we trained." The boy told her lazily. "It was very troublesome."
The Sun Woman nodded, largely ignoring him, "The whole building is reserved for training? That's not a bad idea."
The boy shrugged. "Guess so. A lot of it's classrooms, and we do normal teaching there too. Handwriting, math, the basics on top of the endless ninja training."
They paused beneath the oldest tree it had and the boy leaned against the old rope swing. "If you asked me," he said, gazing up at the sky, "It was all way more troublesome than it was worth."
The Sun Woman rolled her eyes, "Is everything troublesome to you?" she demanded.
He glanced at her, "I don't know. But this might be."
And then the Boy who moved slowly became the man who moved deliberately and the Woman was never quite the same because the forest got into her just like the sun and sand used to be.
Yes, it remembers all of these things and countless more. It remembers lovers and rivals, friends and enemies. It knows how closely all those are related and it knows how easily one becomes another. It knows and it keeps it to itself. Its students came to it to learn, but some things cannot be taught. Some things can only be experienced. The Academy knows that love it one of those things.