Cool Kids

Date Posted: 9/25/16

Word Count: 1200

Recess was a new addition to the Konoha Academy schedule. New meaning barely a decade old. Before that, students had short breaks, or special classes outside, which were usually more interactive and burned the pre-genins' pent-up energy. But having a specific time set aside for the children to simply play, that was something instated by Konoha's first Director of Education, Iruka Umino.

Immediately following lunch, the students were allowed a whole half hour to be more than ninja-in-training. They were encouraged to simply be children. Even the prodigies. Konoha had seen enough of its children grow up far too quickly.

Some, however, were unfairly limited in what enjoyment recess brought.

Eight-year-old Saka Hatake was one of them.

The second-born son (by a mere 10 minutes) of the legendary Copy Ninja watched from the sidelines, stranded on a bench while all the students from his class loitered, wandered, and ran around a playground he couldn't see. His world consisted of a veil of darkness, through which only the colorful glows of each individual's chakra network could be seen thanks to his Karigan.

He could hear the wind in the old Konoha sycamores, but he couldn't see leaves. He could smell the mud, knew that it had rained last night, but he couldn't see if there were any puddles around to splash in. He could hear the voices of his classmates, see their glowing figures go to and fro, but he didn't know what their faces looked like. He also couldn't tell if any obstacles stood between him and them, that might hinder him if he should dare choose to join them.

Koinu usually played as his seeing-eye dog at school, at home, on walks through the village—everywhere. Koinu knew what sycamores looked like, knew where the best puddles would be, knew who was cool and who wasn't, and always kept Saka from stumbling or running into anything.

But Koinu had been invited to play HORSE. Saka, obviously, could not join him. Basketballs didn't have chakra.

So he sat back, and watched the world happen around him as much as he could without an anchor to tether him to the physical world.

It sucked. Big time.

Little boys had far too much energy to be wasted on a bench, during the one time of the day where they were allowed to use it up without fear of disrupting somebody's lecture.

As Saka observed, listening to the chaotic flood of children's voices fluttering on the breeze around him, he noticed a group of children setting up in a familiar arrangement—four, standing in the corners of an imaginary square. One moved his hands, as if he were dribbling a ball. Saka could only assume that he was. A line began forming behind one of the children—the Jack spot—as the game of foursquare commenced.

Saka liked foursquare. But he only ever got to play it at home. Right after they discovered he was actually blind (though it had taken forever to understand what that meant), Papa had gotten special chalk and a ball infused with chakra, so Saka could see it. They didn't have those things here.

But sitting here would drive him crazy. What could he do in order to play?

Shino-sensei had once given a class on using senses other than sight. He said ninja should be able to function even at the loss of one of their senses, like if they got lost in a dark cave, or their ears burst.

Smell and sound. Those were the ninja's replacement for sight. Touch was a close third, but wasn't always consistent.

Saka was certain that he could smell the rubber of the foursquare ball, even from where he sat. And he could hear the slightly metallic 'thwack' it made every time it bounced off the pavement.

It should be easy, then!

He stood. "Hey!" He surged forward through the dark, toward the group of glowing figures. His toe hit something hard—the edge of the court—and he almost pitched forward. Only the shuffle of his feet and an awkward shift in balance saved him, and he heard a few nearby children snicker.

Ignoring them, hiding a scowl, he continued on his way, where he could tell that the game had paused at his approach.

"Can I play?" he asked, blinking at the red-hued kid who stood in the Ace's square.

Silence followed. They glanced at each other, their faceless heads turning back and forth, but he had no way of knowing their reactions otherwise. Then the red kid chuckled a little.

"Sure." It was a boy, and Saka recognized the voice as Saburo Jo—one of the best students in the Academy despite his age. His arms jerked. "Catch."

Rubber hit Saka's face so hard, his skin flared and his eyes watered. He tumbled back, losing his balance despite a valiant effort to save it. The impact jarred his tailbone, scuffed his elbows, and for a long moment, he could hardly tell which way was up. Balance was hard when you had no horizon to look at.

Then he heard them laughing.

"Geez," said Saburo, snorting with derision. "Some ninja you are. Can't even catch a ball."

"He looked like a penguin if-if it tried to fly!"

"Flap, flap! Flap, flap!"

More laughter. Saka rubbed the water leaking from his useless eyes, pretending it was just because of the stupid ball.

He didn't get it. He really didn't.

"Back off!" a familiar voice said in an unfamiliar growl. The other kids went silent, and Saka smelled fear ripple through them.

"Uh…" Saburo stuttered. "S-Sorry, Koinu…"

Koinu's comforting cerulean glow drew close to Saka's right, his arms up like he was holding something. Then he reeled an arm back and let it fly. At a metallic 'thwack', Saka watched Saburo curl in on himself and flop back onto the ground. Stunned silence reigned afterward.

Saka's twin came to him, and gripped his arm. "Up."

Saka refused to budge. Shame heated his ears. He didn't want to get up. He couldn't see their eyes, but he could feel the weight of their gazes. It was enough.

"I don't… I don't understand," Saka muttered, so soft that he knew only his brother would hear. "You and me are just alike, right… but they still…" His throat closed despite him demanding it not to, and a pathetic snivel escaped him before he could stop it.

"If you cry, you just encourage them," said Koinu.

Saka snarled. "You don't get it because it doesn't happen to you."

"No. But it happens to you."

"Exactly!"

"Exactly."

Saka paused. Koinu was trying to say something without saying it again. He wasn't quite sure what it was.

"You said we're just alike, right?" Koinu sighed. "'Cause we are. And what they do to you, I'm gonna pretend they did it to me. Especially since you haven't learned how to hit back yet."

Saka stared at his brother. And once again, he wished he could see what he looked like. Because he probably looked pretty cool right now.

"Now," said Koinu, grabbing his arm again and standing up, "get up. We're Hatakes. We're the cool kids, remember?"