Author's Note: Yeah, I know I said I wouldn't update until I got 5 reviews, but then again it was just the first chapter and it doesn't reveal a whole lot, so I lowered my expectations. So, here's chapter two.

Chapter summary: Kisame sees Samehada for the first time, his classmates are a bunch of brats, and his sensei is just there.

About 90 of the story will follow Kisame. Though sometimes it will veer off and follow someone else, I promise you that when it DOES happen it's because it is IMPORTANT! Of course, I bet you guys already knew that. But someone, sooner or later, is bound to say "How can Kisame remember that if it didn't happen to him!?"

Thank you very much for reading (even though most of you probably aren't reading the author's note) and please review. I really appreciate it when I know how people like the story. And since the story is still early in development, I can make changes to future chapters to make the story better if you review. Thanks again and enjoy chapter two!

Chapter Two: The Seven Swords of the Mist

Shit! A seven year-old Kisame screamed inside of his head and he dashed through the streets Kirigakure. Shit! Shit! SHIT!! It was six in the morning and already he was late for class.

In class yesterday, the sensei had told the class that he was taking all of them somewhere special. The little field trip was supposed to boost everyone's need to pass the graduation exam that they would be taking in three weeks. Kisame had been so excited about it that his eyes refused to stay shut long enough for the rest of his body to shut down into sleep. Instead, his busy mind would try to guess where the sensei would be taking them. Was it the monuments that were created for all dead shinobi in their village? Or perhaps the coast, where the blood of enemy and fellow shinobi had been shed? His mind had suggested such things to the blue-skinned child until he unknowingly fell asleep.

It wasn't until a stray cat had gotten into his room and woke him that he realized what the time was. The shark-like boy had then grabbed a set of clothes and rushed out of the abandoned hut, putting his pants on over his boxers while running, and switching his thin brown shirt for a slightly cleaner black one. He had thrown the brown fabric once it was off and had not paid any attention to where it had landed.

Kisame rushed through the crowded streets, yelling out his apologies whenever he bumped into someone or almost ran into them. He ran out toward a creek that served as a border between the market section of the village and the academy. There was a bridge that went over the creek, but Kisame decided that it was too far away and decided to take a chance and jump the creek.

His feet pounded into the soil beneath him at a faster pace as the pale-blue child prepared his body for the jump. A small grunt escaped Kisame when he jumped over the creek and when his left foot twisted and fell into the freezing water once he landed on the other side. He quickly yanked his foot out of the water and continued his frantic sprint.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Kisame kept hissing through his pointed clenched teeth every time his left foot made contact with the ground. It had been twisted more badly than he had thought, but there was no way he was going to let a simple injury make him more late than he already was.

"Alright is everyone ready?" Kisame could hear his sensei's voice as the academy entrance came into view. His sensei was standing in front of Kisame's classmates, who crowded in front of the bald man, and were getting ready to head out.

Damn it! They're gonna leave me! Kisame thought as his pace quickened and as his left ankle began to throb more in a useless plea for him to stop running. "HEY!" he yelled out. The teacher and classmates turned their heads to look at him. "I'M HERE!" Kisame ignored the annoyed and scornful looks that the other kids were giving him as he stopped in front of the teacher. "I'm here!"

Kisame gasped heavily and quickly as he tried to regain his breath, hunching over and resting his hands on his knees. His heart pounded and his breath was returning to him quicker than he expected, but the teacher didn't wait until he was fully recovered before asking, "Why are you late Kisame?"

Kisame gulped and panted out. "I…slept in…cat…woke me." His breath came back to him and he stood up straight, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his arm.

"Wish the cat had waited a few more minutes" a student muttered and was answered by a few chuckles and giggles.

Kisame looked at the group of kids and glared angrily at them. He wasn't sure who it was that had said it, but the glare was good enough to make them all look away from him. Of course that was nothing new to the boy. Everyone in the village was either afraid of him or had a strong hatred for him. Kisame knew that his appearance was a reason why he wasn't welcomed but there was another reason that he didn't fully know about. He heard some of the older villagers talk about it, and from what he could gather, it had something to do with his parents. The boy could careless about the two people who had brought him into the world, and would walk away from the conversation before he could hear anymore. But even though everyone hated and feared him, they still allowed him into the academy. But the reason was still unknown to him.

"Alright," his sensei's booming voice called out to the class, "now that everyone is here, we'll be on our way."

An excited smile came to Kisame's face as he limped behind his sensei while the rest of the class began to follow, their walks perfectly normal and unhindered by an injured ankle. Even though the sensei would look back to check his students, and even though Kisame began to slow down, but not enough to be left behind or put in the back of the line, no one paid any attention to, or mentioned, his twisted ankle. Even though they all knew it was there.

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The group of students followed their sensei as he led them to a marsh far from their village. Kisame had learned how to ignore his throbbing ankle after the first two hours of the walk and was back at the front of the line. All of the students were starting to get tired and even a few of them had already emptied the contents from their canteens, though a few of their friends were generous enough to share. Some of them tried to convince the sensei to stop, but the man would just tell them to suck it up and kept walking.

"There it is," The sensei muttered.

A small hut was a few yards ahead of them. It wasn't as big as Kisame's home, but this one hadn't been abandoned for a few years either. Kisame had never heard of anything important that was near the marshes, so why had their sensei taken them to this hut?

"Everyone," the man spoke as the group of students came to a halt in front of the hut, "sandals off before you enter."

As everyone started to take off their sandals, Kisame looked for a patch of dry grass to wipe his feet on. He didn't have enough money to buy sandals, so everywhere he went he was bare foot. Not being able to find something dry, Kisame took off his black shirt and wiped the bottoms of his feet with it, making sure it was inside out when he did so. He heard a few kids laugh at him and even heard one say to another, "I told you he's blue all over!" but he ignored them. He put his shirt back on once he was done, the dirt and moist mud that was once on his feet now touching his chest and stomach, but not visible.

Kisame followed his fellow classmates into the hut and was immediately hit with the smell of jasmine and yarrow. There must have been some incense burning somewhere. The smell cleared the child's head and he felt a strange sense of balance within the hut. It made him feel as if he were protected by an unknown force. Everyone seemed to have felt the same presence for no one didn't even utter a whisper. The students silently followed their sensei down to the end of the building, their tiny feet not making a single sound on the tatami mats that covered the entire floor. They passed many rooms and Kisame noticed that the people in the rooms were shinobi. He wanted to ask his sensei why there were shinobi in the hut, other than themselves, but his question was answered for him before he could utter it out.

The sensei led them into a large room where they all stood in front of a row of seven giant swords placed against the far wall. All of them had been crafted differently so not one was alike. The students gawked and many of them said "wow", breaking the silence as a few gasps of amazement joined in.

"If you pass the graduation exam," their sensei explained to the gawking students, "then one of you will wield one of these swords."

"Just one of us?" a girl inquired.

The man nodded, "Yes. The graduation exam is set up so that only one of you can pass."

Some of the students went silent; some started muttering out their fears, while some of the more egotistical ones proclaimed that they were the ones who would pass. Their voices grew loud enough that the sensei had to silence them with a low "Hush!"

"Excuse me, Sensei," one student raised his hand, "but what will the test be?"

"You'll find out on the day we give you the test." The sensei stated simply.

Although Kisame heard all of this, he wasn't looking at anyone when the words were spoken; he was too fixated on the blue scaled sword before him. It looked dangerous and reminded him of a shark's skin. The sensei began to talk about the history of each sword and their names. All of the swords had been used before by many great shinobi in the past, but only one has yet to taste any blood in the battle field.

"Samehada," the sensei explained to his students. Kisame was listening more intently this time and kept his eyes on the bald man, wanting to know as much about the blue sword as possible. "has never experienced battle before. The only blood it's tasted are from the few shinobi who have tried to wield it."

"The sword ate the wielders!?" a student shrieked.

The sensei sighed, "No, the sword didn't eat anyone. It's just that no one can wield it. If anyone does, then spikes will spring out of the sword's handle."

After hearing those words, Kisame became very uninterested in the sword. The sword was cool looking, but then again Kisame would like his better if there weren't any holes punched in them. However, even though the danger of getting your hand spiked lingered, there was still something about it that fascinated the boy enough to make him think that he was the one who could wield the dangerous weapon.