May 12, 7 AK

My eyes track backwards over the caravan, Sharingan active for a moment as I compare the current setup to my memories from last night.

Has anything changed position? Any of the containers strangely heavier, or lighter? Any of the merchants moving differently, or talking to new people?

The group we are escorting is pretty large, nearly 30 people, and larger caravans occasionally try to exploit the Ninja escort by smuggling a bit of contraband. Besides which, this particular run is crossing through three countries; there is a large than average chance someone might attempt something… ill advised.

"Hiroki, you're doing it again."

I blink at Wasabi blankly, habitual smile temporarily forgotten as the gears of thought continue in their previous, unrelated thread. He rolls his eyes and punches my shoulder gently, the motion jarring my hands and bringing my attention back to slight sting in the back of my left hand, the skin raw and slightly bloody from the incessant scratching of my fingers.

"Oh. Sorry. I'll fix that."

My male teammate rolls his eyes again as my hand glows faintly green and the skin melts back into perfect health.

"Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to give you your present."

He reaches into his pack and pulls out a pair of flat metal strips, bits of leather dangling from them in odd places.

"I didn't get you anything for your birthday, but I saw these at the market in Suna when we were there last week and… well. I think they might fit you pretty well."

I turn the objects over in my hands, inspecting them with a critical eye. Forearm bracers. Hmm. I could use a bit more defense, but the extra weight-

"I know what you're thinking. Try 'em on."

I pull them on, tightening the straps which have a bit of give still. Enough for a year or two of growth, if I'm lucky, so they won't be useless too quickly, but my concerns about the extra weight still seem-

The bracers glow faintly blue for a moment and I can feel a tug on my chakra which startles me enough to activate my Sharingan again. I track the flow of energy as it fills the Seal array painted onto the back of the metal where it pressed against the skin. With sudden surprise, I notice the weight of the bracers fall away, and I try out a few quick strikes, noting the now trivial reduction in movement speed due to minor losses in flexibility.

My look of astonishment brings a smile to Wasabi's face.

"Thought you might like that. The metal is one of those crazy alloys they make in Suna, supposed to be super strong or whatever, but I knew the weight on your hands would mess up your fighting style so I found someone to stick the gravity-Seals on them so they'd still work. The guy said the matrix was pretty flexible too, so if you wanted to add something on or experiment a little bit it would probably be safe. Just don't break the things; they cost me two C-ranks. So we'd better win our next exam, ey? Get some of that mad Chunin pay."

My mouth falls open and my brows furrow together. This is probably the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever gotten me, which is somewhat depressing. Mother is kind, but she gives me the gift of good food for an entire week around my birthday rather than material goods. Father is so oblivious to my preferences he actually got me a gunbai last year, hoping to encourage me in the use of the family jutsu perhaps, though anyone who had actually watched me practice could have told him I almost never used Ninjutsu anyway and hold the Grand Fire Ball in utter contempt.

For the first time in awhile, I really look at my teammate. There is a softness in his expression, camaraderie, affection, and a touch of something…

I think it is pity, but not… not the normal human sort. The pure kind, which carries no contempt, no judgment, only compassion for another. The pity of a Saint, though we hardly qualify, with the number of kills we already have to our names even so young.

"Now you'll have to stop scratching. And, maybe you could try to smile a little more again?"

"Wasabi, I… thank you."

He offers me a quick half-hug before walking back towards his position at the front of the caravan and I start walking as well, the rumble of the carts a familiar background hum as I think, hands gently tracing over the cool metal.

I allow myself too little introspection, I fear. Too little opportunity to externalize my point of view, too little chance to consider how the actions of others may affect me, and how I might affect them in turn.

Oh not in the obvious sense of course, the grosser forms of social push and pull, the balance of obligation and duty which drives society; that I can read, when I try. I understand that other people have their own internal monologues, their own opinions and thoughts, but most of the time this only matters to me inasmuch as I can use it to make them do what I want, coerce or pressure or cajole a response from them.

I am the primary actor, the focal agent, the protagonist who drives The Plot by the Things I Do. A silly position to take, as I have already observed how little genuine control I have over events, even my own life, but one which it is all too easy to slip into.

But, truly, I am not alone. I am not… I am not alone. My team is there, and they care for me, genuinely.

I catch Nikkei's eye briefly, and give her a quick smile, flashing my bracers to evoke a thumbs up in return. I glance at Kakashi-sensei's back as his gaze sweeps over the forest, lazy affect spoiled by the warmth in his expression as his attention falls on Wasabi, talking for a moment to the lead cart driver.

My team is there for me, they really are, not merely as automatons which can be pushed or pulled to offer me aid, but as as free agents who can help me because they want to as friends, and not just people who fight beside me.

Maybe... maybe, I can see what the village means by the Will of Fire. Maybe, just maybe, there is room for hope.

. . .

Team Dinner at the Shimura household form a neat middle ground between the slightly awkward and stilted formality of events held in the Uchiha compound, and the overly feral and frantic feasts hosted by the Inuzuka. They don't even really have a compound per se, more a collection of apartments and houses in a little cluster whose residents all wear baubles with the trademark gleam of chakra conductive metal. Ninja like to have weapons close to hand.

Truth be told, these are the only dinners that really feel like dinners. Even amongst the laidback Inuzuka, there is always an undercurrent of wariness, both from the constant shuffling for position inside the clan, and from the awareness that a single misstep could lead to a rather painful impromptu sparring session, perceived offense likely as not to be forgotten by the next time our visit rolled around but uncomfortable all the same.

As I sit comfortably at the table next to Wasabi and nibble on a sweet cookie, I can't stop the faint tingle of longing welling in my chest, the faintest stirrings of a plan. If I can make Chunin, If I can leave the Uchiha... would the Shimura's take me? If I could make myself valuable enough... I could escape. I could leave behind the encroaching massacre, gain safety in distance.

What would it be like, to live without fear? To know your family's love was truly unconditional; to be free from the weight of expectation?

I push down on the feeling, focusing instead on the vase of flowers sitting at one end of the table, buttery-orange narcissus and yellow freesia lending the room a pleasant warmth, before a laughing comment pulls my full attention back onto the conversation.

"-ou don't have to listen to Hiroki's awful jokes!"

My frown at Nikkei is a little closer to a pout than I would like, but I can't really deny the assertion. I've been trying to improve my humor, but… well it's hard. Most of what I find funny doesn't really parse. Hmm. Maybe something more old fashioned?

"I can too tell good jokes! Here: A man goes to the tailor and asks for some long underwear. The tailor says, 'sure, how long do you want them?' The man says, 'about September to March'."

I grin triumphantly at the Inuzuka girl, who stares flatly back before rolling her eyes and sighing in shame. My shoulders slump as I turn to check on Wasabi who is giving me a raised eyebrow and a look of skeptical amusement.

"Yeah, maybe don't turn in your hitai-ate just yet man."

My frown of sulky disappointment at last elicits a sharp snort of laughter from him, which is echoed by his parents, and eventually Nikkei. A small smile of pleasure steals briefly across my face, but fades as I notice Kakashi-sensei's continued bland assessment. My eyes drop back down to the table as the conversation resumes, the mood kept cheerful, but I still feel like an outsider. I can feel something small and tense trying to relax slightly, but I can't afford to embrace the feeling, can't afford to risk in that way. But for a moment, a very brief moment, I let myself wish for life to be otherwise.

. . .

Our next Chunin exam is in Kiri.

. . .

A/N: F is for friends who do stuff together... have you ever noticed that italics can completely change the content of a sentence?