Published 7/10/2017

Akihiko - 1 (Chapter 9)

The training field, hidden away between the mountain and Konoha's northeastern forest, is one he has never been to. From what he can tell it is some sort of artificial wetland. If he had to guess he would say that it is used for terrain-based training by the Special Forces. The notion piques his interest. In every chronicle of the Second War he'd ever read Konoha's extended campaign in the swamplands of Amegakure had been labelled as one of the greatest blunders of the war. The unfamiliar marshes and bug-filled bogs had proven to be more of a deathtrap than any of the enemy machinations. With no idea of how to navigate effectively, the lack of mobility had not only locked troops in a pit of neverending malaria and dengue fever, but frustrated any manner of tactical achievement whatsoever. The idea that this training field had been created in the wake of the Second War to prevent the recurrence of such a campaign is intensely fascinating to him. Akihiko resolves to look into the matter after his orientation concludes.

And then, as he is shoved bodily into a pool of putrid swamp-piss, all thoughts of research fly from his head.

"What was that for?" Akihiko sputters disgustedly as he flails his arms and eventually manages to pull himself back onto dry—for certain values of "dry"—land. A few feet away, Kamoku stands untouched by the splash of grime.

"That was simulating the insult your team commander takes when you fail to report on time," the panther-masked shinobi replies. "As this is only your first day, we'll leave the legal ramifications of dereliction of duty aside until later. For now it will suffice for you to learn your tardiness was to me what that pool of water currently is to you. Do you have any questions?"

Akihiko spends a long moment gaping with an open mouth. The mask stares back impartially. And then, because Akihiko is not an idiot, he stands up and mutters quietly, "No, sir."

"Speak up," Kamoku replies. "I can't hear you."

A flash of irritation scuttles by like a roach. Akihiko slams his foot down on it.

"No, sir," he grinds out.

Kamoku crosses his arms and tilts his head. Akihiko wonders for a moment if he is going to get pushed in again anyway.

"Come here," Kamoku hums after a moment. "Let's do a bit of an exercise."

Warily, Akihiko approaches. Kamoku, arms still crossed, regards him for a moment. Then he says, "You are nowhere near the sort of person who can be in ANBU, Akihiko Namikaze. Tell me why."

"Why?" the boy repeats blankly. Not the sort of person who can be in ANBU? If that were the case, why had Susumu invited him here today in the first place? "What do you mean?"

"I mean tell me of your shortcomings. What are you bad at? What do you need to work on? What about you prevents you from being a Special Forces ninja?"

"...Why?" Akihiko asks again. "If I need to fix something, isn't it your job to tell me?"

"It most certainly is not," Kamoku replies sharply. "You're an apprentice, not an infant. We have no interest in taking on mindless, single-function automatons that need constant hand-holding. The very nature of our work demands we be able to realistically assess not only situations and their appropriate responses, but ourselves and how we function. If you are not constantly aware of yourself and your condition—your deficiencies included—you are doomed to failure."

Akihiko tries not to bristle at the implied insult to his competence, but he does not quite succeed. Kamoku deigns to let out a short laugh.

"Your pride has been wounded," he chuckles darkly. "You have an ego, then. Well, that's no matter... If you're going to survive here, I suspect that will be solved before long."

There is absolutely no safe answer to that so Akihiko gives none. Kamoku lets out a knowing snort.

"It's hardly suprising, though. I read your profile. Advanced tutoring in your clan style, top of your Academy class, member of the premier team of your graduating year… life's been too kind to you. Ones like you always need to be taken down a few notches when they first come in."

"Too kind?" Akihiko scoffs before he can help himself. He thinks of the mission, his team, and of Yoshiya, and he and wonders how in the world life had been kind to him.

Then, despite Kamoku's wearing of a mask, Akihiko is suddenly struck with the distinct feeling that his eyebrow has risen. The young ANBU-hopeful immediately regrets interrupting and braces himself for another dunk in the pool. Surprisingly, though, Kamoku does not kick him into the water. Instead, the ANBU just laughs again.

"Foolish and naive. Well, I won't argue with you about whether or not you've suffered as much as you think you have. Let's return to our exercise, shall we? You have yet to answer my question. Explain to me your deficiencies as a shinobi."

Akihiko opens his mouth but nothing comes out. What could? Having borne so many insults in the past sixty seconds, and now being asked to continue the abuse himself, what could he be but at a loss for words? A long moment passes.

"You're struggling," Kamoku observes flatly. "How promising."

"I'm… sorry?" is Akihiko's incredulous reply. Kamoku just snorts.

"I guess it can't be helped... I'll have walk you through it. Now, I'm sure there's no shortage of discussion topics—" Akihiko is sure that the man is smirking now— "but for simplicity's sake, let's try something easy, shall we? Like your lateness to this morning's meeting."

The groan does not escape Akihiko's lips, but it is a near thing. His tardiness, it seems, is quickly becoming a thing of legend. Something else, he thinks bitterly, to blame on the fight.

"Well? Why were you late?" Kamoku prompts.

"That's…" Akihiko looks away. "It's complicated."

His mentor is not impressed. "That was possibly the most pathetic deflection I've heard in years," he informs. "If you're going to try to evade the question, make an effort not to be so incompetent about it."

An angry exhalation does manage to force its way through Akihiko's throat then.

"Sorry, okay?" he does not quite snap. "It wasn't like I decided to go on a flower-picking trip or something. I wasn't late because something nice happened."

"Excuses," is the unamused reply. "And bad ones at that. Try again, wretch."

Fed up with the name-calling, Akihiko goes silent. The moment stretches out, long and awkward, but he obstinately refuses to speak in spite of his mentor's silent reproach. It goes so far that Kamoku actually begins tapping his foot. A small eternity passes.

"...You've wasted enough of my time today," Kamoku finally decides. "If you wanted to stay in the General Forces that badly, you should have just said something. Come on. We're going back to the Tower."

"What?" a bolt of horror strikes Akihiko through the heart. "No! That's not what… I wasn't trying to…"

"What are you trying to accomplish, then?" Kamoku asks coldly. "What sort of message do you think you send me by behaving this way? You were late. You aren't making an effort to learn. You'd rather stand here in wet clothes and refuse to speak for the sake of avenging your bruised ego than cooperate with my instructions. Why would I think that you want to continue on this path when your actions are clearly saying otherwise?"

"I can't go back to the General Forces now!" Akihiko panics in reply. "Not now… not anymore!"

How could he? There was no way he could go back to his old team and go on taking missions like nothing had happened. What sort of face would Suzu look at him with? How would she ever tolerate teaming up with him again? He hadn't meant it—of course he hadn't, he never meant it, of course he knew it wasn't her fault Yoshiya died that way—but what did that mean to her? Even if he hadn't meant it, what reason did she have to forgive him?

Kamoku regards him—or seems to regard him—with a dispassionate look. "Explain," he orders.

Akihiko's ears begin to burn bright red, but he swallows and stutters out the morning's events: the misunderstanding, the betrayal, the angry accusation, the ridiculous punch, and even the mortifying flight from the glare of Suzu's terrifying uncle. By the time he finishes Kamoku has a gloved palm plastered to his mask.

"Unbelievable," the brown-haired man breathes. "You're in a league all its own."

Akihiko just curls his fingers into fists and stares at his feet, unable to refute it.

"Has it ever occurred to you," Kamoku questions with sweltering contempt, "to try biting your tongue just once in your life? Don't think I didn't hear about your outburst in the camp during the mission, either. Are you always this much of flaming wreck?"

"Only when I get mad," Akihiko mumbles. Kamoku puts his forehead in his hand again.

For a moment, all Akihiko can hear the buzz of insects. His skin begins to crawl with the chill of his waterlogged clothes. His feet start to itch and the sound of his breath is shallow. In that instant Akihiko finds he is suddenly able to name the insidious, torpid emotion that has been licking at his consciousness since he had first fled from his clan's compound: misery.

"...Why didn't you tell me?" Akihiko mutters. He isn't sure if he really wants to know, but he says the words just to fill the air. "That she didn't accept, I mean?"

"Why should I have?" Kamoku lowers his gauntleted arm with a snort. "So you could have pressured her into remaking her decision?"

Akihiko's first reaction is to protest, but as he opens his mouth he finds himself realizing that that is exactly what he would have done. Silently—wretchedly—he shuts it again.

"...I was disappointed too," Kamoku shares after a long moment. "It was such a waste. We only had a short conversation, but it was clear that she was vastly intelligent. Self-aware, too... unlike you," he adds sardonically. "She was nothing special martially, but that would have been solved easily enough with the proper instruction. After all, you're all the proof one needs to realize that it's a much smaller matter to teach a person technique than it is to teach him wits."

Akihiko finds himself suddenly awash in a sea of weariness. "I'm not stupid," he sighs as he finds himself remembering the days when Yoshiya had jabbed at his intellect in just the same way. "You know that I'm not."

Akihiko readies himself for another blistering counter-snark, but Kamoku, somewhat surprisingly, does not seize the opening. In fact, the tired honesty almost seems to soften him.

"You're right," the ANBU says. His voice is not gentle, but it is not ironic or sarcastic, either. "You're not stupid. But you're temperamental and you lack self-control. You crumple under stress. For people like us that's just as bad as being stupid. Worse, even."

"So what should I do?" the boy asks. He finds he cannot keep his shoulders from slumping. "It's always like this. I've never been any different. I don't know how."

"That's all right," Kamoku quietly replies. "No one could expect you to know all on your own. And you don't have to know in this very moment, either. Once you've understood weakness, you only have to rely your elders for help."

Akihiko looks up.

"Are you saying…" his lips purse. "Are you saying you're going to fix it?"

"No," Kamoku shakes his head. "It's not within my ability to fix other people. But I can help you find a path. That, rather than force-feeding you reform, is the real job of a mentor, Rengoku."

A/N: I've received a lot of feedback expressing extreme hatred for Akihiko. It'll be interesting to see how opinions of him evolve over time.