Luck.
Luck always seems to allude me. Even in my younger days in the Sunakagure, I was never a very lucky girl. It has become clear to me over the years that everything I want, I have to fight for and take it myself. I can not just sit around and expect to be pampered. That's Yumi's job.
My unluckiness is proven yet again as I, in my run, make contact with a heavy something that feels like flesh. I lose my footing in the hit and skid onto my back. The fleshy something exclaims, "Oof!" and flies in the opposite direction, sliding slightly further than I had. As soon as I am back in control of my body, my head shoots up, and my brown eyes try to locate my victim.
Unable to find a good view from here, I blink off my daze and crawl over to examine the victim, assess the damage. It is a boy, and I know I have never met him before, but he looks familiar to me. I don't know why. I must have hit him pretty hard, because he's breathing softly, eyes closed, as almost if he's sleeping.
Something compels me to avert my eyes, and I do momentarily, but when I look back, he isn't there. I guess I didn't hit him all that hard. I turn my head to the other side and discover this boy again, his face not far from mine. "What's your name?" he inquires.
I fall back, shocked and surprised at his speedy recovery coupled with his sudden appearance in my personal bubble. He just laughs at me and good-naturedly offers me a hand. Reluctantly, I take it, and he pulls me to my feet. Since I would be considered rude if I did not answer his question, I exercise the ability to speak I so rarely use. "Issho Enkai. You?" I choose my words to fit the situation, not to make a monologue, so I am satisfied with my short response.
"I'm Rock Lee!" he declares, striking a ridiculous pose. His teeth make some sort of indescribable glistening noise, if that even has a noise. The pose, the teeth, the black, domed hair…It is then that I know why he is familiar.
"Might Gai," I say slowly. "Know him?" I could hardly imagine this is a popular look. The hairstyle is ridiculous and can only be the influence of the one and only Gai. He had told my mother of a prodigal child on his Konoha squad, a taijutsu specialist, and maybe this is he.
"Do I know him?" he repeats as if the very thought of him not being acquainted with Gai is insane. "Gai-Sensei is the greatest thing that has ever happened in my entire life! He has taught me the fundamentals of being an excellent fighter! He has shown me things that are virtually unimaginable to anyone who has not seen living proof like myself!" He seems very emotional, and tears stream his cheeks. "You cannot possibly imagine all of the things Gai-Sensei has done for me! He has a flair for teaching that you will never even begin to understand! Gai-Sensei is-"
"That certainly was a beautiful speech," says Gai as he approaches. I saw him coming while the boy was speaking, the smile on his face at these words, but I didn't say anything because I had a feeling Gai would want to intrude in this way. "Unfortunately, I'll just be cutting in now." He turns to me, his teeth doing that same annoying thing as the miniature version of him had. "Welcome, Enkai. Where is your mother? And the others?"
"On their way," I answer simply. "I ran ahead." Politely, he walks to where my luggage had flown during the collision and lifts it in his massively oversized hands. Instead of words, which I often find tedious and worthless, I nod to express my gratitude.
"Oh!" the mini-Gai explodes. "I forgot to tell you my name!" He turns briefly to Gai, his head down in obedient remorse. "I am sorry, Gai-Sensei, for momentarily forgetting my manners!" Then he spins back to me, and I wonder what happened in this kid's life to make him so animated. "I am Rock Lee!" He announces to me.
"That's, er, nice," I squeeze out, feeling a vocalized response was due but not knowing what to say. Luckily, Mother, Hayame, and the others approach, saving me from the suddenly awkward conversation.
My mother doesn't use words terribly often, but she has an alternate method of communication: affection. Instead of greeting Gai verbally, she wordlessly steps beside him and pecks his cheek. Oddly, the man blushes. Lee whips out a notebook and scribbles something down. Apparently, he takes notes when Gai does something eventful.
Our ten-person party heads off to Gai's home, where we will be staying for the duration of the exam. Gai doesn't have children, but he has multiple spare rooms because sometimes his team stays over to avoid the excuse of commuting times for tardiness to early training. At least, that's what we're expecting to see.
Gai, Lee, Hayame, and Yoshiro-in other words, the men-carry all of our baggage. Together, it takes four people to carry what took eight to get here. We soon arrive, which is good, because if the walk from the gate area took too long, I was going to go insane. I can not walk for long periods; I have to run them.
There are four guest rooms. As we decided in advanced, Manami and Jaiden are roommates. As are Yoshiro and Hayame. Kazan and Yumi sharing was all but unexpected. This leaves me my own room. Mother is going to take Gai's room while he sleeps on the couch. That's what they've told us, but I don't expect that to happen. They will probably just share his room.
I dislike that concept. Gai is nice and all, but I don't particularly care for him, and I don't want him that close to my mother. He acts like he is my father, trying to be there for me when I am upset. I do not need a father. I do not want a father. The last one worked out so well.
My bags are taken to my room by Gai, and I follow him in to see it. The walls are a dark blue with spots, some large and some small, of lighter shades. The pillow cases, sheets, and canopy over my bed are all black. There's a cushioned window-seat that when I look out, I discover the most beautiful view of the village I could have ever imagined. I spin on my heels to face him; he is smiling, standing on the center of the circular navy rug that conceals most of the wooden floor. "It's-" I begin, but I'm not very good with words.
"You're welcome," he interrupts with a smile. For a moment, I almost let down my guard, let him see me for what is on the inside. I have had so much practice hiding my feelings, but that is about to go down the drain. No, I decide not to. I keep my barriers raised high. I won't let him in where he can hurt me. The prospects of my smiling dissipate with my trust.
I need to get out of this situation before I do something foolish. It would be an idiotic move to speak again unless it's to excuse myself, but how do I do that? I decide to wing it. "I'm going to go for a walk," I announce. It's the longest sentence I think I've said for a while. Without waiting for a reply, I calmly exit the room. I glance back over my shoulder, recognize the hurt in his eyes, but I do not stop.
Wordlessly, I depart through the front door. When I am alone in the Konoha streets, I express my guilt through a few tears. Tears are nothing new to me. I've let flow more than possibly any one I know. Perhaps I am just a baby, weak and soft, but they make me feel better. Secret tears are like apologizing to myself and, in turn, apologizing to the wounded party without having to face them.
I dry my face on my dull red sleeve. It was once blindingly bright-a hand-me-down from Kazan-but it has faded, as if it was adjusting to the new owner by regulating its color to fit the personality. Hardly do I ever get new clothes, so most of my clothes in preferable colors-blacks or dark blues, my favorites-have been hand-dyed by me. Today I did not feel like searching for a darker outfit, so I slid into a red long-sleeved shirt, red pants, and a pink sash that was once Yumi's. I hate pink, but my pants were too big, so I needed the belt.
As I wonder, I bump into an intimidating man with a mask concealing the lower half of his face, and his Konoha head protection band covers one of his eyes. I gasp at first, expecting the worst, but I find my breathing regulating. I hope this silver-haired man is nice, and as he directs his visible eye on me, I have a feeling in my stomach that no bad will happen.
Then again, luck always seems to allude me.
