I'm never good enough. Outshone by either prodigy or hard worker, I'm always in the background. If I try, I fail. I work, but it's never good enough.

I watch his cool eyes, but he doesn't see.

The other girls are all liked. Sakura has Lee and Naruto, always chasing after her, devoted to an unimaginable level. Ino is beautiful, with shining blonde hair like the sun and pure blue eyes, men trip over themselves for her attention. Hinata is dedicated, and the shy girl has more admirers than she knows. But where's my attention?

His eyes see all, but they don't see me.

I work hard, and never complain. I may act like I don't like my team, but truly I am glad to be here. They accept me, yet they do not see me. No one sees me, for no matter how hard I work, I'm never good enough.

He wasn't expected to be what he is. A prodigy in his own right, outdoing all the limitations put on him.

I am plain. Dull brown eyes and hair; mediocre skills. I may be able to hit any target, but that doesn't mean anything. It seems I need to have amazing jutsu, and unbeatable skills of some kind. I am not special.

He is skilled, and he takes it for granted.

Cool white eyes. I drown in them. I want them to watch me, to see me, but they're to set on their task.

I clutch my kunai harder, before throwing it at the target. As always, it hits dead centre, but I can't help but think it still isn't good enough. My teacher congratulates me, with words used so much they have no meaning. Everything he says never used to make sense, speaking in 'poetic' ways that only made sense to him. I understand now, but the meaning is lost.

More weapons are pulled into my practiced hands as I stare down my target, before whipping them towards it with a speed only I possess. Only I possess naturally anyway, some people botch the circumstances in their favour by using chakra. Once again, it hits the target dead centre, landing on top of the first kunai and clattering to the ground. Useless comments follow again. I have his eyes only because he needs to look, because he is expected to. No one sees; no one wants to.

I look next to me, to see him moving with his swift grace, somewhere between a dance and a meditation, but most defiantly seeming nothing like a fighting style. My teacher sees this glance, and suggests we face off. I haven't fought him since we were Genin, considering he is now 'superior' of me. What bull.

The suggestion is given to him, and he looks me over with his cool eyes. He only listens to our teacher anymore, even though they are at the same level as Jounin. I am sure he is going to refuse, but to my surprise, when his voice rings it out in the majestic way only he can muster, it speaks of acceptance rather than refusal.

We face each other, our teacher shouting things at us that I cannot catch. The match begins, and he flies at me in his practiced grace. I am not going to let him get too close. I know he works; he doesn't know how I work. You watch and you learn, but if you stay stuck in your own world, you learn nothing of others.

Weapons fly from my hands before I am even aware that they are there, and he deflects and dodges them with barely a thought. I have never seen him sweat. He is too perfect.

My hands reach behind me, unfurling paper along with it. Signs are sprawled all along it, summons.

I press my hand to one, and a large sword appears in my hand. I furl the scrolls back again, before facing his cool eyes again.

He reaches out to strike me, but I do not dodge. I know I will just move into another strike. I swipe down the blade, and he is the one who has to dodge. I pull out a series of shuriken, and they are flying through the air already. He spins, and sends them flying off in random directions. He stops, and I have the blade at his throat before he has time to get his bearings.

My teacher congratulates me, sputtering some nonsense of my youthfulness. As my blade disappears into a puff of smoke, cool eyes watch me.

I start to walk away, dismissing myself with my sensei before leaving, my training done. I feel smug. For once, I have won.

I can feel his eyes burning in my back. He sees me, but out of spite. I'm not sure if I like this any better.

I find my way home, along a path carved through forest. My teacher always insists on training far out in the forest, where it is among everything 'youthful'. If you haven't noticed, he's really messed up. My other team mate idolises him, and follows him like a lost puppy as well as does everything he can to be just like him.

I reach my home, where I now live alone. I moved away from my parents a few years back; and now live in this pig shed of a house. My keys are pulled from my pockets by my precise hands, and they reach the doorknob. Ice slinks around my waist, and I gasp and turn around, breaking from the grasp and press into the door, opening it sending myself tumbling backwards and onto the floor.

I groan and grumble as I scramble to my feet, looking up when I have found my bearing just to stare straight into icy eyes.

He sees me, alright.