A/N: Edits 10/25/17.

- Chapter Four -

"What do you mean, we both win?" Shin repeated flatly.

"Exactly what I said." Yūgao knelt beside me and eyed the thin slice on my arm. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off I could feel it burning, along with every other injury I got. "You both pass, therefore I will teach both of you."

I sat up when she pulled out some bandages and winced as she started treating my arm. It didn't hurt too much, but the wound stung like an oversized paper-cut.

"It's not deep," she reassured, hands gentle but firm. "I would recommend using some antiseptic when you get home, though. Just in case."

I nodded in understanding, watching as she gingerly wrapped bandages around my arm. There was no point in risking it getting infected. Starting off my ninja career with an infected arm seemed like it would set a bad tone for the rest of the line.

Shin sat glowering, gaze burning holes in our new teacher. "What was the real point of this test?" He seemed irritated at her misleading instructions.

I wondered at the real purpose, too. In all honesty I should have expected something like this to happen, but it seemed like the real point of Yūgao's test went straight over my head.

"Can either of you guess?" Yūgao asked offhandedly, looking at each of us in turn.

Shin frowned and mulled it over. It was clear she wanted us to work together at some point during the test even though she specifically told us to fight, inciting competition right off the bat by claiming she would only take one as a student. Those type of instructions were obviously meant to deter any form of teamwork.

How very Kakashi-like of her, I thought dryly.

But there was something different with our test compared to the one I remembered Kakashi putting Team Seven through in the future. There was more to this.

She had purposefully backed both of us into feeling cornered enough that we considered crazy solutions, and we were both put in positions where winning meant the other person would be seriously injured in the process. It seemed a bit extreme, now that I thought about it, but the fact remained.

Yūgao watched us as we worked through our thoughts, finishing up with my arm.

Then a thought occurred to me: was she testing to see if we'd sacrifice the other person in order to win?

Dread grew in my gut, and I suddenly saw Shin in a whole new light. I hesitantly glanced over and found him observing me back with a similar expression etched in his face. He looked grim, apparently going down the same train of thought I was.

There was a very real possibility we could have killed each other just now if things went differently. If only either of us had been slightly more ruthless and willing to step on the other—

The fact that we started throwing explosive tags at each other almost immediately spoke volumes. Those weren't playthings; they could do some real damage. One wrong step and one of us could have died. And even though none of them actually landed, the reassurance did nothing to ease the apprehension I was suddenly feeling.

Forget Shin's possibility of seriously injuring me, what the hell had I been thinking, throwing those around so casually?

But the answer to that was easy.

Winning. I had been thinking about winning.

"You tested our willingness to seriously injure each other for the sake of winning?" Shin finally asked, staring at Yūgao like she was crazy. "That's excessive for a genin test, don't you think?"

I wasn't sure if it was excessive or perfect, considering what nearly happened. Look how close we came to failing it, I wanted to say.

"That was only part of the test," she said and we both recoiled, staring at her in bewilderment. Hearing our thoughts confirmed only made the realizations worse.

Yūgao eyed us critically, probably also thinking about how readily we used the tags. "While I was testing to see how far you would go to win—the possibility of killing each other aside—it was really about whether or not you would sacrifice the well-being of an ally for your own progress."

How far you would go.

The words seemed to echo in my ears and I stared at her uneasily, apprehension jumping to a whole new level. Those were the same words I had told the Hokage. It was my reason to become ninja, my motivation for joining the forces.

I wanted to see how far I could go.

He had observed me carefully as I answered his questions and I thought that was the end of that, but...

Oh.

And like a lightswitch turning on, everything suddenly made sense. This test wasn't just out of the blue. It was a direct follow-up to the question the Hokage gave me yesterday. All of this was on purpose—except this time rather than answering him with words, I was answering him with actions.

I briefly wondered what the hell Shin had told him in order to get put through the same treatment. Our pairing wasn't just simple coincidence, either, and the fact we didn't have a third teammate spoke volumes of separation from the rest of the class.

"You really think we'd go that far over something like this? We're just genin." He appeared incredibly disturbed and uncomfortable at the implication that yes, there was an expectation we would go that far. We nearly did. The test would have been different otherwise.

I recalled his brief moment of hesitation when I ran through my explosive tags. The opportunity Yūgao was talking about was definitely there, and he had hesitated, however fleeting the moment was.

That was frightening.

I wasn't sure if I was to be reassured that he hadn't taken the option to blow me up, or be unsettled that he had even considered it to begin with.

And we were supposed to be teammates? I thought incredulously. This had been one backwards way at building trust between us.

"It doesn't matter what I think," Yūgao said lightly, but there was an undertone of seriousness there. "That was the point of the test, and you passed. But Konoha has no need for ninja who ruthlessly step over each other. You both displayed above-average ambition and intelligence during your time at the academy and while we cultivate ambition in our ranks―welcome it, even—it is never done at the expense of our allies."

Shin and I sat silently, shaken at the implications and stewing in our own reflections. This test went much deeper than either of us originally assumed. It had the possibility of getting really ugly, and revealed parts of us we didn't really want to consider.

It showed us our potential to go down the path Yūgao was so calmly warning us about. What the Hokage was so clearly watching for. And that was the crux of it. We were both being tested on which direction our ambition would eventually pull us, and what better way to do so than to pit us against someone with the same mindset? It was like hitting two birds with one stone.

But I was a good person. I would never do things like that.

And yet, the realization of how easily—almost mindlessly—I had just reduced Shin to a rung in the ladder of achievement was staggering.

It shouldn't have been so easy. My stomach churned.

Satisfied we understood the message, Yūgao clapped her hands. "Well then, now that that's over with. I look forward to working with both of you. Let's have proper introductions, shall we?"

Her bright mood did nothing to disperse the clouds hanging over our heads.

.

.

.

I didn't eat much at dinner that night, still lost in my own thoughts. Mom kept glancing at me as we ate, concerned but otherwise keeping the silence. She knew I would speak to her when I was ready.

I mindlessly moved some rice on my plate and wondered if I could have really killed Shin.

No, not could. If he had been slower an explosive tag would have done the job. Would I have killed him was the proper question. I clearly had the potential to. I nearly did. It was a disturbing fact to stomach, something I wasn't ready to do yet.

Coming from a world where morals against murder were instilled in us from birth, you'd think I would show more hesitation when given the option—and yet evidence to the contrary was right there with my careless actions.

I scowled down at my untouched food, trying to reconcile conflicting ideals. Mom sipped at her drink, eyeing me across the table, but said nothing. I was too deep in my own head to notice her frown.

Shinobi code dictated that we had to learn how to kill our emotions and detach for the sake of missions, and we were expected to kill unflinchingly when ordered to do so by our superiors.

But those were all orders given against enemies and Shin wasn't an enemy.

Why had I so easily treated him as such?

With a start, I realized it was because at the time he had been. I had been given an order and I had taken Yūgao's instructions at face-value without really considering why I had been given it. I was told to win, so I followed it by using whatever I had at my disposal in order to achieve it.

It didn't help that the order coincided with my ambition to win anyway, which made things twice as bad.

There was a burning sensation behind my eyes and I numbly realized I was about to cry. The entire day after Yūgao revealed the true purpose of the test had me swimming in frustration at my own actions. Doubt in the solidity of my morals and strength of character ate away at me.

I wasn't a bad person.

I wasn't.

But the test suggested that I could be.

I gripped my chopsticks until my knuckles turned white. It was a wonder they didn't snap.

Mom slowly put her cup down with a click. The sound was loud in my ears. "Miho?" she ventured cautiously, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Am I a bad person?"

She exhaled slowly. "What brought this on?"

"Our instructor's test today," I replied listlessly. "I nearly killed my new teammate."

There was a heavy silence while my mom took in my words. I tried not to think about how disappointed she would be in my actions. She raised me better than this, I knew. Her hand left my arm and I tried not to curl into myself. I heard the scraping of her chair as she got up to leave.

But then she was kneeling beside me, easing my hand out of a fist and turning me to face her.

"What happened today?" She asked gently, rubbing my arms.

I hesitated because I didn't want to face her disappointment, but began explaining at her expectant look. "There were two of us. Yūgao-sensei said she'd only take one to teach. The other would get sent back. We were told to fight." My throat was tight. "I nearly blew him up with explosive tags."

I watched her face for any signs of disappointment, but found none. "And did you?" She asked.

"No!" I said quickly, voice raised in desperation. Then I took a breath and continued in a quieter tone, "No. Of course I didn't. But I attacked him so carelessly, mom. And it was so easy... I knew he would dodge in time, but what if he hadn't? He could have died." My voice hitched. "And if it wasn't me then the idiot would have blown himself up with his own jutsu because of my surrounding tags. And I would have won."

"But he would have been hurt."

"I tackled him down before he did something stupid, but then I regretted doing so because it meant I lost."

She hummed. "But you still saved him?" The question caught me unaware. Wasn't I responsible for putting him in danger in the first place? Didn't that negate my action of saving him? "Did you see him in danger?" She rephrased her previous question after seeing my confusion.

"I saw him forming the seals for a fire jutsu around my tags, yes."

"And you didn't just sit back and watch?"

"No. I couldn't. He was about to get seriously injured and I―"

I had interrupted him. I did it at the cost of revealing myself, at the cost of winning, all without fully processing what I was doing before it happened.

Oh.

Air whooshed out of my lungs when I saw the point she was trying to get me to see.

She saw the change in me instantly, and rested her palm against my cheek. It felt cool against my skin. "You are not a bad person, Miho," she said firmly, willing me to understand.

"But..."

"Your actions may have put him in danger, true, and your instructor will probably be keeping an eye on you. But," she continued before I could get a word in, "From what you told me, you eventually put his well-being ahead of whatever goal was put in front of you."

My mom's words were definitely a balm against my festering emotions, but it didn't feel like any consolation. My complete disregard for Shin's safety was still troubling.

"I still could have easily killed him," I murmured. "How does my realization of what I nearly did make it any better?"

She sighed wearily and squeezed my arms. "It doesn't. But it does mean you realized your mistake, and we all make mistakes. We learn from what we do and I think that's why you passed. Your instructor must have seen some potential in you."

This entire thing was so emotionally draining and I deflated, feeling exhausted. Killing wasn't something I was expecting to wrestle with. Not so soon.

'Ninja life' to me had consisted of having chakra, using said chakra to have superhuman abilities, learning how to do amazing things, and going on missions. In the back of my mind I knew these missions would include violence and people getting hurt, but that was a bridge I expected to cross later.

Now I realized that I was just like Naruto had been at the start of the series: off in la-la land believing that being ninja was the coolest thing ever, like it was just sunshine and rainbows all around.

"I don't want to kill anyone." My voice was small. These were real people and I had nearly killed one. I would be expected to kill one later—multiple, if ordered.

"I know, dear." But she offered no words of consolation because we both knew that I would have to kill someone sooner or later, whether I wanted to or not. She had warned me, and I hadn't listened.

I didn't eat any dinner that night.