Sasuhiro waited for the chuunin exam to be over. He'd never be promoted, he knew that the from the first time he used a hand seal. The chuunin opposite him looked prepared, his kunai sharp and ready to tear into Hiro's flesh.
The Shichidaime nodded to the tournament director, who gave the signal to begin. Abrame darted forward, hands a blur as they formed some jutsu. Hiro shut his eyes tight, willing the technique to work this time.
Byakugan! He opened his lavender eyes. Abrame looked a bit more transparent than usual, his face contorted in contempt. The advanced perception the ability gave him was just enough to dodge his first attack.
The rush of the Fire Style attack flickered from the blue-white of chakra to the red-yellow of live flame. He rolled to his right, and again as a shiruken whizzed through where he had been standing.
He gathered his chakra in an instant. He pointed at Abrame and saw the stream of power congeal and release as it flowed through his finger. He felt a twinge of pride that only the Hokage and the instructor would see his jutsu fail.
"I thought the Hyuuga were the masters of close-range fighting." The chakra dissapated against his body, the white strands shattering. "You can't even use the Byakugan properly yet."
"I can!" Hiro shouted, rasing his palms and drawing his left foot back. The sixty-four palm technique would have to be fast, but it would end this as soon as Hiro could afford.
"Then what is this?" The kunai pressed into his back, were his spine meet his head. The point dug into his verterbrate, sending flashes of pain along his nerves.
"Kage-sama, this creature is a disgrace to Konohagakure. It would be better to kill this weakling now so he doesn't embarrass us any further than he already has."
The seventh stood, waving a hand dismissivly. "This isn't war anymore Abrame, he is still a useful shinobi." The Seventh's white robes were streaked with red and orange, like his was constantly on fire. His face was untouched by age, very few old shinobi had survived the war. It was strange seeing a face only a few years from his with such authority.
"Come, I have a task for him. Abrame, prepare the next candidate."
Sasuhiro followed the Seventh out of the arena, sheileding his eyes agaisnt the light of the outside world.
"Lucky for you, I knew your father." The Seventh guided him along the roads of Konoha, heading in the direction of the newly created Hiue, the Hokage's palace. The old one had been destroyed years earlier. "The Rokudaime's reign was short, but it probably saved all our lives. For that, I gave him a painless death and swore to look after his son," he turned his eyes, much whiter than Sasuhiro's own. "That debt is running out. Do not fail me on this one, or I will be unable to protect you from those like Abrame. Our village is becoming stronger, and routing out the weak."
The Seventh's frame remained still, but Sasuhiro felt every inch of the shinobi's displeasure. His life was set at birth, and he had failed so far.
"Don't fail me, Uzumaki."
