Chapter Thirty-two: Stage One, Incident
It was only a short sprint, and the classroom was about as cold inside as it was outside, but Namie found her back coated in sweat as she took a seat beside her two teammates and paused to gather her bearings. Nerves. It was only nerves. Excitement. Disbelief.
But mostly excitement.
This was the chūnin exams—the chūnin exams. Finally, finally.
Every little thing about it was new and interesting, from the thirty-something other genin she counted in the room to the seal fixed onto the closed door by the male proctor. A type of privacy seal, she knew—recognized it from a few familiar markings but had to make a guess at it because all seal formulas were unique to their creator, like handwriting, or a fingerprint.
She noted a few of the other participants hailed from prestigious clans, as it was more a matter of where to look for family symbols as opposed to physical appearances, but her eyes took in even the most insignificant detail as they flitted about the area, and it took all of her willpower to suppress the giddiness bubbling up from within.
This was a small victory. This was exactly where she wanted to be.
But she could do without the curt and curious glances being sent her way. Hers was the last team to arrive, so it was only natural they garnered attention, but she was well aware she was the youngest genin in the room. Unlike the time she'd been united with her first team—she briefly wondered if Kakashi felt the same way when he was in her place.
…No, probably not. Not that arrogant guy.
The rush slowly receded and Namie became aware of her immediate surroundings. Kohaku and Hibiki conversed in hushed tones beside her, shooting her an occasional glance, but she tuned out their words. There would be plenty of time to talk later. And it didn't last—they fell quiet when the two proctors stood at the front of the room and began to speak, addressing the entire room.
"Well, now that everyone's here, it's fin'ly time to begin!" The female proctor clapped her hands together eagerly as she surveyed the room with bright eyes. The green color wasn't the only familiar characteristic—Namie was certain she'd heard that country twang of an accent before. If she recalled, the woman was Senju Koemi—Kushina's genin mentor, as well as a shinobi she'd seen guarding the village gates quite a few times before. The man beside her was one of the constant gate guards as well, though she'd never caught his name.
"But let's start with introductions first, shall we? I'm Masato, and I'll be assisting Koemi here. We will be your main proctors throughout this exam, from Stage One to the end. For those of you who make it through, anyway," the sandy-haired man added with a carefree smirk.
"Right," Koemi agreed, setting a hand on the lecture desk before her and leaning forward just slightly, enough that her head was tilted at a downward angle and a serious shadow fell over her eyes as she glanced out across the sea of students. "A good few of you'll end up droppin' off before we even get halfway through this test. And this competition pool's already small enough as it is thanks to the postponement. Wouldja believe we had near sixty participants slated before that…?"
She cleared her throat and straightened up once more, crossing her arms over her chest. "But that's then and this's now. Now is the first stage of the exam. Congrats to those of you who made it here—it means your teammates didn't abandon you. Y'know—the third member of yer teams who arrived a little later?" She paused as the genin all glanced at their respective 'third teammates.'
"That was part of the test," Masato chimed in. "So those who didn't give up on you and those you didn't give up on couldn't be here now if you didn't all share some solid teamwork and have faith in each other." His expression suddenly sobered. "Of course, there are times when you'll be faced with the choice of putting other things before your teammates, but when you face a situation where you have to work together to overcome something, well…this just proves that you did." He reached for the stack of documents on the desk and began distributing them to the genin occupying the seats.
"'Course, this part of the test won't be like that—just a written exam fer ya'll to write on and turn in. Pretty cut 'n' dry, really." Koemi glanced down at her fingernails as she remained standing at the front of the room, one hip leaning against the teacher's desk. The casual way she spoke was a bit disconcerting—and Namie realized just why that was as soon as Masato set the sheet of paper down in front of her.
It was blank. Smooth and bright, as untouched as pure snow.
"Oh, but ya won't be turnin' it in in this room—if that makes any sense. Masato and I'll be waitin' just outside the classroom and, well, all y'have to do is hand the paper in to one of us."
There was a pause as a wave of confusion swept through the room, evident by how each of the genin's brows furrowed as they tried to make sense of the kunoichi's explanation.
"Well, if ya manage ta find the exit, that is." The pleased smile stretched across her lips did nothing to calm the sudden rise of anxiety closing in on the room as the participants realized that this wasn't a typical test.
"You have an hour. So, good luck to you all!" Masato offered a cheeky grin and a wave after he set down the final test and disappeared in a puff of smoke right beside a disgruntled Akimichi. Koemi followed suit, and in the wake of their absence and the haze of confusion they left behind, the genin couldn't help but remain silent as they mulled over the proctors' words.
Then, like a gale, test sheets whirled into the air as genin launched from their seats and rushed towards the door, to the windows, to the walls, trying in vain to open them. Fingers pried at the seal stuck to the door, but it held fast. Kunai blades pierced the seal paper, yet it remained firm and rigid—quite unlike paper at all. The genin who aimed for an escape elsewhere soon discovered windows jammed in their sills—and ceiling tiles were stuck in place, immovable.
Namie batted away one of the loose, airborne documents that swooped towards her face and picked up the blank sheet of paper sitting on the desktop in front of her before glancing at Kohaku and Hibiki, caught in a stupor of deep concentration. They looked over as soon as the blonde caught their eyes.
"Well, this is different." A dry grin rose to her lips. "Should we jump up and panic like everyone else?"
"I don't think it would matter either way," Hibiki replied. "But—this isn't a genjutsu. There's no illusion in place anywhere in this room."
"So we really have to…think…on this one." Kohaku covered her mouth with her hand as she fell into deep thought, eyes roving slowly around the room, analyzing everything provided.
"There's not much to think about. Fill out the paper, leave the room and turn it in to the examiners in an hour." Namie turned the blank sheet over and over, but nothing appeared—there was no previous writing, in pale ink or small, secret script, anywhere on it. Not even when she channeled a small spark of chakra into it to see if it reacted like a nature-type litmus test. She pursed her lips before reaching for the nearby pen and scrawling her name across the entire page in messy kana.
"What—what are you doing?" Kohaku stammered, taking the paper from her teammate as soon as her pen left the surface, eyes scanning the page in disbelief and confusion.
"They didn't say what to write on the page. This should pass the requirement. Now, all we have to do is find a way out."
Hibiki watched the two girls for a moment, eyeing the messy ink on the blonde's test paper, then closed his eyes in resignation. "She's…not wrong. The examiners didn't specify." With a shrug, he picked up his own pen and neatly printed his name across his test.
Kohaku gave a low hum and toyed with the end of her braid. "…Alright, then. I don't suppose it matters." After a moment, her test paper also sported her name in bold, confident lettering.
Namie slipped from her seat and glanced around the room at the scrambling teams, paying little attention to the competing teams and focusing on searching the room for an escape instead. If she'd studied fuinjutsu in-depth with Kushina, beyond utilizing it for storage, maybe she'd have a chance at decoding and countering the one placed on the door—but removing that seal meant opening the proverbial starting gate and letting all of the other teams out, too. Competition meant someone had to get left behind, and she wasn't willing to wait for the elimination matches to start whittling the other teams down.
But…for all means and purposes….they were in a completely sealed room. It was a difficult obstacle, and worst case scenario, none of them would advance to the next stage.
"I don't guess either of you are well-versed in space-time jutsu, are you?" she wondered, quirking an eyebrow at her two teammates. Even with their Sharingan abilities, it was unlikely they possessed the very skill that would get them out of this situation.
Kohaku sighed, and the sound barely came through her tensely-set jaw. "Don't even joke about that, Namie."
"It was worth a shot."
"Please be serious." Hibiki spoke this time, rising to his feet to examine the room as well.
The two Uchiha were a little uptight—especially in these situations. No humor to be found there as far as they were concerned, she discovered. Easygoing Uchiha like Obito and Mikoto must have been rarities. "Sorry. I'm serious, though. I want to get out of here as much as the next guy," she mumbled, crossing her arms and doing a head-count of the nearby genin to make sure none had managed to find an exit and slip away undetected.
All were accounted for.
A confident grin rose to her lips. "And I want us to be the first team out."
With little else to do, Namie approached the sealed door, elbowing her way in between the barricade of other genin blocking the way. She felt the familiar presence of her two teammates at her side shortly after.
"Didn't you mention you studied fuinjutsu?" Kohaku asked, touching her hand lightly to the paper seal, examining it for oddities. After deciding there was nothing strange about it, she let her hand wander off to the wall's wooden surface, searching for potential hidden switches.
"I did—a little. It wasn't ever really a focus. I can't make heads or tails of this," Namie said honestly, scanning the symbols and scrawled characters over and over, checking for a key to decode it, checking for anything that might provide a clue in the formulaic garble.
Hibiki joined his teammate in examining the walls and area around the door. "I think there's a slim chance we'll find a way out here by the door. Maybe the exit we're looking for isn't even a door at all."
"What do you mean by that? What else would an exit be? Besides a window, anyway—but they're all locked, too."
"I don't mean that, it's just…" Hibiki paused, tugging at the edge of his forehead protector that hung close over his eyes as he fumbled for the proper words. When he found them, he was sure to lower his voice so the nearby teams couldn't hear. "The way the examiners phrased things just seems weird…."
Namie moved away from the door and let her eyes rove around the room, to the windows, floors, and ceiling before coming to rest on the pensive face of her male teammate. "Weird how?"
"Well, for one, the test is blank. So—the major point of this stage is, well…finding out what to write down. Two, considering the only exit we can see is right here, telling us something like 'if' we can find it is…strange."
Kohaku sighed. "I agree. And I know we already wrote them, but I don't think just our names will cut it. It can't be that easy."
By now, most of the other groups had come to a similar conclusion after seeing that pawing at the walls and floors for a hidden door was futile. They huddled together discussing the problem, casting furtive, distrustful glances to the competition. Namie caught the eye of a shrewd-looking Nara that was listening in to their conversation—and for a moment feared she'd figured out how to pass the stage from hearing the discussion. Until she looked away and continued speaking with her team.
Namie closed her eyes and nodded. "You're right. Otherwise we wouldn't need them at all."
One of those stupid, trite shinobi mantras flickered through her mind—look underneath the underneath.
Shinobi and their convoluted mind games—it was a huge waste of time, she thought, but it couldn't be helped. Once upon a time, she didn't mind puzzles so much.
And they were closer to solving it than anyone else in the room.
She took what her teammates contributed and pieced the clues together in her mind, even if it involved logical leaps and sheer dumb luck, before reaching for her test paper and picking up her pen, holding it poised over the surface, ready to write—anything. Even if it was stupid. Anything would work.
"We'll just have to guess, then."
So she took a deep breath, and quickly scrawled a messy, near illegible, kanji for "exit" across the page.
"Wait, what are you—"
It happened in an instant—just like the pull of the Hiraishin, she felt herself traveling, not quite like taking a step forward, not even like falling, but moving, through space—but without moving as her surroundings blurred into a smeared mess.
It wasn't something she could wrap her head around even now, but when everything came into crisp focus again, she realized she was in a much smaller space than before. A familiar space. A hallway. And the other side of the classroom door, shut tight, stood before her, plastered with a similar seal that mirrored the one on the reverse.
Then, not even a second later, Kohaku and Hibiki appeared at her side, looking just as awestruck and clutching their exam papers tightly in their hands, sporting kanji that matched the one on her page.
Namie turned to face them, turned to see the two exam proctors staring at them in surprise over her teammates' shoulders, and felt a grin slowly push its way onto her lips upon realizing that her guess turned out to be the right one.
Well, luck was part of being a shinobi, too.
But her victory was short lived—the moment she opened her mouth to claim it, another team appeared beside them in a puff of smoke as they, too, were transported out of the classroom. It was the team the clever-looking Nara girl from before belonged to—and the girl shot a cheeky grin her way as she approached Koemi and Masato and handed over her and her two non-clan teammates' exam papers.
The green-eyed Senju managed a pleased smile as she stared down at the tests. "Well, well, lookit that! Thought it'd take at least twenty minutes for anyone ta figure that out, but here ya are! Two teams, even!"
Namie's smile shifted into a pursed scowl as she watched the second team steal their thunder—sure, they were the first ones to figure it out, but then the others just had to waltz in and get in the way to hand in their exams first. Before she could seethe too deeply in her anger, though, Kohaku tugged the slightly-crinkled test from her grip and then turned them all in to Masato with an elegant smile, completing their objective.
"Ain't that something," the sandy-haired chūnin replied as he transferred the tests to his partner's hands and then consulted his clipboard, quickly scribbling something illegible down on the roster sheets. Then, he glanced up at the six genin with an amiable smile. "You six are free to rest in the unoccupied classroom down the hallway for the remainder of this hour, but don't leave the building. If you do, you'll be disqualified. Oh, and for the sake of convenience, I'm going to assign you team numbers: you're Team One," he addressed Namie and the Uchiha pair, "and you're Team Two," he nodded to the Nara's group.
A chill snaked through Namie's veins as the familiar name sounded in her ears, and she gave a dry, lurching swallow before forcing the grim surprise back, back, as far back into her mind as she could, because it was just her luck that her past would catch up with her and remain clinging at her side no matter how hard she tried to get away and move past it. But…maybe it was meant to be this way. Maybe it was some kind of twisted token of good luck. Team One and its memories would always be a part of her, after all. And it would carry her through this exam.
"Team One, hmm?" Hibiki spoke up, cutting through her thoughts. "I like the sound of that."
"It isn't bad. It's an ace number. The best." Kohaku agreed quietly, flashing the blonde and her teammate a grin as they turned away from the others and walked to the end of the hallway.
"Then we'll just have to live up to that, won't we?" Namie said as she followed behind.
With fifteen minutes of the 'written exam' remaining, already half of the teams that had been present in the classroom found the proper exit and were now gathered in the waiting room with spiking levels of anxious impatience and boredom.
It was the slowest hour of Namie's life—as if time was intentionally being stretched out just to spite the occasion. Every time she glanced up at the clock, the minute hand seemed to be pointing in the same exact place, sometimes even skipping backward and making the waiting period longer than it should have been. All she could really do was roll her eyes and sigh, resting her chin on her hand, wishing she could strike up some kind of conversation with her teammates (even though Hibiki looked like he could well be snoozing. And Kohaku's eyes were closed—she was either meditating or also sleeping) but finding herself at a loss thanks to the atmosphere. It was a tense kind of quiet, the kind where the sharp clacking sound of a pen hitting the ground would startle the hell out of everyone because their thoughts were focused elsewhere. People barely spoke, and if at all, only in quiet murmurs.
The next time she looked up, another team ambled into the classroom, both weary and relieved to be there. But just as she'd seen them enter the room, a shadowed blur blocked her line of vision—quite close to her face, actually. It was a pair of bright, dark eyes that held a spark of cleverness and a glimmer of mischief, wide and curious, and the longer she looked, the more they seemed like black holes drawing everything in, into a certain, unsettling black emptiness. She jerked back on reflex and felt her spine knock into the edge of the desk behind her, drawing forth a short hiss of pain.
"What? What? Jeez, haven't you heard of personal space?" she grumbled out, twisting her torso and reaching back to rub at her aching spine, feeling her eyes watering from the sudden impact and wondering why, just why, the desks and seats had to be set so close together in the stupid classroom.
"Sorry. Didn't think I'd surprise you."
Namie turned to face the girl with a glower, but her expression evened out into something flat and blank as she studied her gentle, off-setting smile. It was the Nara girl, again.
She was short, only a bit taller than Namie, but her appearance revealed that she was the same age as Kohaku and Hibiki. No older than fourteen. Her brown hair was set in a loose, swishy bob that hid her ears and framed her smiling face, and the expression was a bit silly, she realized, as she looked closer. An airheaded haircut just short of Rock Lee's and a light expression that effectively camouflaged the sly glint that flashed occasionally in her eyes.
Why she was watching her, bothering her, however, was beyond her.
"Can I help you?"
She pressed her lips together into a fine line before speaking. "You're that Namikaze Namie girl, right?" There was something sure and deliberate about her words, even though they were spoken in a friendly, casual manner.
"I am. So?"
"Oh, nothing, really. Well, it's just that I've heard your name around a few times and I thought I'd see for myself just what the fuss is. You're a little bit famous, you know. Ah—maybe that's not the best term to use." The Nara girl leaned her arms across Namie's desk as she sat backwards on the chair on the other side, head tilted ever-so-slightly as she watched the younger.
Namie raised an eyebrow. "Famous?" Rumors—they were likely rumors, and nothing good came from those. Nothing good could have come from hearsay involving her name. She didn't want to hear any of it.
"You're known, is all. Really, I guess your brother is the one starting to get famous. But you share the name, too, plus…it's been a while since a girl as young as you entered the chūnin exams. And you were the first one to figure out the first stage! You're definitely not average." A small, unreadable smile played at her lips as she watched the blonde—it unnerved her, just a bit. "I'm Miho, by the way. Nara Miho."
"Charmed."
Miho laughed faintly. "Not a social one, hm? It's okay, I don't mind doing most of the talking. But I'll get to the point, now. You—I want to fight you, Namie-san. I want to see just what's so special about you."
Great. The last thing she needed was a rival in this stupid exam. She couldn't have just kept her curiosity to herself and walked away. Namie opened her mouth to shoot back a sarcastic quip, but found someone else speaking instead.
"I'm sure that will happen if the test allows for it, Miho-san." It was Kohaku. She'd opened one eye and watched the brunette girl coolly, not budging an inch from her comfortable position with one leg crossed over the other and hands clasped loosely in her lap. Despite how she appeared, and if Namie wasn't mistaken, there was a certain strain in the way she held herself—only pretending to remain calm.
"Oh, Kohaku-chan, I didn't see you there. Still don't have much of a presence, do you?" Miho pushed herself away from the blonde's desk and rose to her feet, taking a few steps backward as she let her eyes sweep over Team One in its entirety, as if seeing them for the first time. Blinked and then looked away, not impressed with what she saw. Then, without a word of farewell, she turned abruptly and returned to the desk where her two teammates sat. Only stopped to cast a backwards glance at Namie and offered a quick wink before striking up a conversation with one of the boys.
"What a weirdo," Namie scoffed, slowly crossing her arms and settling back into her seat now that the dull ache in her spine eased away—along with the cloud of strange, eerie tension Miho brought with her.
"Don't mind that one," Kohaku said gently, though there was a hard edge to her tone. "But, also, don't ever find yourself alone with her. All she thinks about is competition and finding someone to fight. It's why she can't pass the chūnin exam."
"Can't pass? How many times has she taken it?"
The older girl pursed her lips and glanced away, in Hibiki's direction, as if seeking him for a proper explanation, but his eyes remained closed and his breathing remained rhythmic and even—definitely asleep. She fiddled with the end of her braid. "She graduated young, too. She was the same age as you. This is her third time competing. And…Kyouya had to fight her in the finals of his exam."
Namie shrugged. "And? He passed, so he beat her, right?"
Kohaku's fingers stilled and she slowly released her braid. "No; he lost."
The clock passed the hour mark at last, and the moment it did, the two proctors straggled into the classroom with one more team in tow; bringing the number of passing competitors to thirty-three.
"Well," Koemi began, setting her hands on her hips as she scanned the room, sparing each genin a quick glance. "Didn't think so many of ya'd pass that. Congrats." She paused for a moment, flicking her eyes towards Masato, who rummaged around the teaching podium beside her before bringing out a box filled with scrolls. "This brings us to the next part of the exam, then. Not quite the second stage, but an extension of the first."
Masato stepped forward and began passing out the items, along with sheets of paper, much in the same way he'd distributed their previous tests, but instead of blank sheets, these were filled with neat, small handwriting outlining the next process. All save for one line.
DO NOT OPEN THE SCROLLwas the first, and most important, step on the given list, written in large, bold characters.
"As you know, the introduction to Stage One tested you and your teammates' wit and ability to infer a solution based on what you were given in order to escape a difficult situation. The next part will be more practical," Masato explained.
"You'll have twenty-four hours to complete the task we've given ya as described on those papers. It's all the same for each one of ya, but how you approach it, how you use yer skills, is all unique. We, and other shinobi you won't see, will be ghostin' your progress and grading you by it. Also as a safety measure." The ominous words went largely ignored in favor of the new task at hand.
"This event will take place within Training Ground Forty-four and begins in half an hour. Gather supplies, prepare yourselves, and meet at the entrance in that time." Masato checked the clock before sweeping his gaze across the children. "As usual, be late, be disqualified. Questions will be answered on-site." His gaze lingered on Team One before he turned to his partner with a nod.
Koemi grinned at the participants before she and her partner body-flickered away. This time, however, their departure didn't result in a stampede or a rush for the door.
The eleven teams sat in silence, soaking in the information.
"Training Ground Forty-four?" Namie breathed, watching her teammates from the corner of her eye as Kohaku touched the scroll curiously and Hibiki read over their instruction sheet. "Isn't that…?
Hibiki nodded slowly, features grim. "The Forest of Death."
All thirty-three genin were present, loitering around the tightly-weaved chain-link fence that barred them from entering the training area—or, rather, the fence that kept whatever lurked beyond trapped safely inside. So much for promptness. The proctors were the ones who gave the timeframe, yet they were the last to arrive.
No matter how strange the first part of the exam had been, this was the real test. Namie could feel it. Not only from the foreboding location involved, but from the fact that a large medic-nin tent was set up along the forest's borders. She briefly wondered if Taji was present, there, just out of sight behind the cream-colored flap of the entryway, maybe purposely staying out of her line of sight for fear of being too overbearing—or making her nervous. She never complained about healing her; taking care of her. But she knew it weighed on her mind, guilt heavy like lead, because it was always difficult to see loved ones suffering. Then, she decided, she would just have to avoid ending up hurt and needing the medical attention.
"What do you think's in the scroll?" Namie asked, crossing her arms as she observed the item in Kohaku's hand, rolled tightly, sealed, and tied with a neat little red string, if only to break the silence and make conversation while they waited.
"I'm not sure it matters. Not when the objective is to deliver it to a specific destination," the girl replied.
Spoken like a true shinobi.
Hibiki gave a yawn before throwing in his two cents. "I'm more concerned about what the objective entails." His sleepy eyes wandered across the fenced-in area that loomed before them, deep, and dark, dark, darker the further it retreated from the perimeter, like a gaping mouth ready to swallow them whole or chew them up and spit them out with its wooden teeth.
Namie shivered—if not from the cold, then from the creepy atmosphere the forest emitted—and stuffed her hands into her pockets, trying to take her mind off of the daunting task. There was a stray ponytail holder among the pocket lint—not hers. This garish, plum-colored coat was borrowed from Kushina because she hadn't thought to buy a new one after outgrowing her own last year—she couldn't exactly wear her brother's old one as a hand-me-down forever. The redhead didn't mind lending it in the least, though. She seemed to like having someone to dress up in the clothes she'd outgrown.
That train of thought didn't hold her for long. The test proctors arrived in a flurry of smoke and leaves, feet stepping firmly on the ground as they appeared in front of the entrance gate to the forest, standing at either side as if they were the guardians to it, hearkening back to their daily duty.
"I see yer all packed 'n' ready ta go!" Koemi observed, crossing her toned arms across her chest and smiling.
Namie paid no mind to it before, but the woman's uniform bore no sleeves—leaving her skin open to the bite of the cold. There was something about the forest that dropped the temperature down by ten degrees, at least, so she didn't know how the woman could stand it, being so near.
"Good. Not a face missin', either. Well—might not be good fer you per se." She shrugged, shaking her head slightly. "See, what you'll be doin' here is a sorta special event. Meanin' there's only a certain number of teams that'll pass."
Namie turned her head slightly, catching Kohaku and Hibiki's eyes. They held the look for a moment, understanding that this was serious and there was no room for error, before their gazes returned to the woman.
Masato cleared his throat and spoke next. "But the task itself is explained on the instruction sheets we provided." His eyes wandered down to the ever-present clipboard in his hands. "I trust none of you have opened up the scrolls we entrusted you with, or else we'd be one team less, but—well, if there are any questions about this task, now is the time to ask."
A quiet murmur rippled through the group as all teammates checked that they understood what they were to do within the forest.
Kohaku was the first to speak, raising her arm so high and straight that her long kimono sleeve slipped down to reveal the ninja armor at her elbow. "Excuse my asking, but why this particular training ground?"
Hibiki's eyes were trained on her as she spoke, Namie noticed, but as soon as she fell silent, his gaze darted to the proctors.
"Well, figured someone'd ask that," the green-eyed Senju muttered, pursing her lips as she regarded the Uchiha girl. Her eyes connected with Masato's and they exchanged a meaningful glance, as if mentally sorting through the proper response. "I'm sure some of you are aware the location of the exam sorta jumps around 'n' all. Sometimes this stage's outside of the village in a satellite town, a campsite—somethin'. Jus' so happens we've chosen Training Ground Forty-four here for this group. An' that's that."
Masato hummed, nodding his head. "That's right. If you're concerned about the dangers involved, consider that each location for the exam presents its own. Bandits, thieves, enemy shinobi, giant, mindless creatures…" his voice trailed off as he gave a vague wave towards the forest at his back. "But that's why well be keeping a close eye on all of you participants. Can't have anyone dying, now. That's not the kind of test this is."
"'Course, that doesn't mean you won't possibly become seriously injured, so if you slack off an' let yer guard down for even a second, you could lose a limb or two." Koemi's grin never dropped, and the facetious lull to her tone offset the somber nature of the words, but not a soul dared laugh.
"Any more questions, then?"
No one thought to press them and insist that they'd never even answered the first question properly.
Namie spoke up when no one else seemed game for asking, taking a few steps forward. "The paper here says we'll be exchanging the scroll in our possession with an item at the checkpoint—just what does this checkpoint look like?"
Masato smiled amiably. "You'll know when you see it."
She bit her lip. "That's not—"
"I mean that. Every one of you is headed to the same destination, somewhere deep in the forest. It's not inconspicuous and it's the only one."
She gave a reluctant nod, accepting his response, then returned to Team One's side.
"I have a question," a familiar, cheery voice sounded. The blonde looked over to see Miho standing up on the tips of her toes in order to be seen over the heads of the surrounding genin. The usual, unreadable smile was playing at her lips. "What are the rules involved here?"
"Good question," Koemi praised, clapping her hands together suddenly. "Can't go into somethin' like this without knowin' the rules you're playin' by. That said, there aren't really any. Yer free to do what ya want in this segment so long as you follow the objective."
"That said, you are all aware of proper shinobi conduct." Masato's warning on the matter was the conclusion to their answer.
"How many teams will pass?" Hibiki asked, voice even and devoid of the usual lethargy.
"Eight. Eight teams have a chance," Koemi replied. Her eyes briefly flicked towards the sky before she closed her eyes. Then, a second later, they were open again. "Well, it's getting' to be time to begin, so let's wrap up this li'l Q-and-A here." She jerked her head in Masato's direction and he nodded, taking the cue to open the training ground's entry gate.
Once it was open, he held his arm out with a flourish, urging the teams forward. Some stepped past the gate immediately (the Nara girl and her team), some hesitated for a moment before following behind the rest of the group. Namie and her team found themselves bringing up the rear, left to have the gate shut behind them as soon as they were clear.
Namie glanced back at the proctors as they stood on the other side of the partition, Masato locking the gate up tight, and Koemi standing with arms crossed, watching them all with sparkling eyes.
"Don't forget—twenty-four hours, meet back here. Good luck, and see you then."
As soon as the parting words were shared, the two shinobi vanished.
All that was left was the Forest of Death looming before them like a slumbering beast that would soon awaken.
The Forest of Death was bigger than she remembered—more than just something off of a TV screen, now, or from the monochrome pages of a comic. Vast, but tightly-packed with trees and vegetation of monstrous scale to the point where it became almost claustrophobic and confusing. Not a sliver of the sky could be seen between the tangled branches above, and the only light source came from lanterns and make-shift torches cobbled together from fallen branches and cleverly-placed fire jutsus. The heat conflicted with the cold, and the deeper they moved into the forest, a dank, stifling humidity rose up, steeped them in a clinging sweat and forced them to discard their jackets for the remainder of the journey.
Shortly after the beginning of this test, the eleven teams involved went their separate ways, to try their luck in locating the checkpoint before their peers. The forest was large enough that they could wander and wander without bumping into another team for hours. But none of them were fool enough to believe it would be that way forever—some would tail others, out of sight and sly as the creatures whose tails slithered at the edges of the shadows as they watched and waited.
They weren't alone in that forest, and not only for the overseers watching them (eyes were everywhere).
Team One traveled in silence since the moment they entered the training ground; a good, solid hour had passed since then.
"Do we know where we're headed?" Namie asked the two genin she walked close behind, trying to swallow down the dry, cottony feeling of dread stuck on her tongue as close as the heat that clung to her skin.
Hibiki held the scroll, taking the responsibility to keep it safe and guarded upon himself while Kohaku traveled beside him, ever vigilant. The lantern in her hand swished precariously as she turned to fix the blonde with an unreadable stare.
Then it hit her.
Kohaku's eyes shone scarlet in the dim light—rather, they didn't seem like Kohaku's eyes at all, but twin Sharingan she was seeing for the first time from the girl.
She was looking for something—but not their goal. Something with chakra.
A faint smile rose to the dark-haired girl's face. "Yes, we do, Namie-san. Most shinobi know of the central tower located within this training space. It's likely the checkpoint Koemi-san and Masato-san were speaking of."
"It's a little hard to find, though," Hibiki said quietly from beside his teammate, casting a brief glance at the blonde and, surprisingly, lacking the Sharingan glow. "There's no set way to get there."
"So we're following the footsteps we found a few minutes ago," Kohaku concluded.
Namie nodded. "Right; I've heard of it." She felt a frown weigh down the corners of her lips. "But why stay quiet about all this? Try to keep me in the loop, here. We're a team."
"Sorry, Namie-san. The silence was for the sake of concentration. Not to ostracize you by any means."
"Whose trail are we following?" she asked.
Kohaku's smile slowly faded and she reached for the end of her braid, but stopped and dropped her hand back to her side. "Team Two. Nara Miho's."
Namie stopped walking. Watched as Kohaku and Hibiki did the same before turning to face her fully, expressions cast in dancing shadows from the flickering flames inside the lantern, but it was clear that neither was smiling. The usual calm, amiable, or weary facades were nowhere to be seen.
All because of that kunoichi's name.
Hibiki and Kohaku's attitudes had changed drastically since the debut of that girl. At first, she attributed the shift to the fact that the test was progressing and they were sent to the Forest of Death, of all places, but now, hearing their motives, she was sure. There was something they weren't telling her; something that existed only between them.
But they were a team, now. Team One. She wouldn't let them keep secrets.
"Alright, what's going on? Just who is that girl to you besides someone who beat your teammate in the last exam?" She felt her hands curl into fists at her sides as her feet pushed firmly against the ground. She wasn't moving another step until they gave her answers.
Kohaku and Hibiki exchanged a long stare before the girl heaved a sigh and raised her free arm in a shrug, smile falling back into place. "You're right. We should tell you; you're our teammate, too."
Namie's temper eased slightly upon hearing the other kunoichi's words. They did consider her a teammate, she knew. This was the first time their smooth relationship had met a snag and, despite that, it was easy to straighten out. They weren't the type to keep secrets to the death, for their own, selfish sakes.
Hibiki glanced down at the scroll in his hand. "Kohaku told you: that Nara girl beat Kyouya in the finals."
'Ah, so he was awake during that.' Namie raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.
"What she didn't tell you was that she left him in critical condition for a month afterwards."
Kohaku's jaw tensed. "Things like that do have the potential to happen in the chūnin exams, I know, but what she did was...it was…" Barely, just barely, Namie caught the faint glimmer of tears pooling at the corners of her too-shiny eyes before she shut them tight and looked away.
"Too brutal. Part of it was an accident, at least it was written off that way, but…considering it was Nara Miho, we're convinced it wasn't." Hibiki's eyebrows crinkled together just slightly, meeting just above the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, he fixed Namie with a direct, serious stare. "We're going to make sure she doesn't make it past this stage of the exam. We're going to make sure her team isn't one of the eight that passes."
"For Kyouya." Kohaku added, tone steeled. Then, it softened. "And for you. She's fixated on you, now. That's how it began last time. An innocent comment about wanting to fight, and then…it was awful."
All of the words Namie wanted to speak during their confession died behind her teeth. They weren't just acting on their own for their former teammate—mostly, yes, but there was also concern for her present. Reminding her that she wasn't just an accessory, here, just a means to an end.
And she completely understood their purpose.
"Let's go, then. I'm behind you guys one-hundred percent." To cement the assurance, she offered them a smile that recklessly promised nothing short of a future beat down for the Nara kunoichi that crossed them.
Did you really think your half-baked plan would work here?
The tower was close; so, so close—within their reach. Only a sprint away. Just though the gap in the trees that gushed a welcome stream of sunlight.
Yet none could move. Namie's legs were locked, feet stuck fast to the grass beneath her. Her entire body was paralyzed in invisible quicksand and no matter how hard she willed it, how badly she wanted to, she couldn't move it. Not even with the utmost strength. She was left standing tall, yet helpless, as the trees that surrounded her. Vulnerable.
A strained, rough cough sounded near her—someone was gasping for breath, wheezing, yet she couldn't turn to see who. Couldn't quite decipher the vocal quality to determine whether it was male or female; whether it was Hibiki or Kohaku, because every sound was distorted, no match for the rage bubbling up within her. Blood thrummed in her ears as her heart pounded against her ribs, pushing, always pushing, seeking a way out of this trap.
Hot pepper bombs work magic against the Sharingan, don't you think?
Her own eyes watered as the pepper cloud just reached her, already diluted by the air and not nearly as oppressive as what bombarded the two Uchiha, but still enough to bring a bite.
If they rely so heavily on their eyes, though, there's not much left when they're taken away.
Nara Miho's words lacked the usual play, the cheer that coated the deep malice beneath like a thin layer of ice. She now spoke with a cruel intelligence, and Namie realized just what underhanded genius was. The girl was an ace at finding people's weaknesses and exploiting them for her own wicked benefit; her own victory. Even if they were comrades. That was her shortcoming—why she hadn't exceeded the rank of genin. It could be used for so, so much more, yet here she was, playing petty children's games, holding herself back.
"Kyouya-kun didn't stand a chance against it, either." An overwhelming clarity settled in as the brunette kunoichi heaved her arms upwards in a carefree shrug, and Namie's own limbs rose up as easily as if she'd decided to move them herself, mimicking the gesture. "Frankly, it's disgusting that the other two fell for the same thing."
Namie's eyes traveled downwards to the ground, where her shadow connected with an unnatural extension alien to her own silhouette—the renowned Nara shadow-binding technique. Miho wasn't worthy enough to wield it. Not with that personality.
But for all of the shadows present around them and the bright source of light dousing them from behind, there was no way out of it.
"And, really, I'm sorry you had to be paired with the likes of them. Quite a step down from being a teammate with the White Fang's son. Even with everything that's happened, whatever mistakes he's made, I hear his son's a promising genius. Genius is supposed to cultivate genius, don't you know. How did you end up here?"
"None of your goddamn business," Namie managed to bite out, pleased to discover the technique didn't completely control her as far as moving her jaw went.
"I'm only making conversation." Miho replied plainly, crossing her arms—and bringing Namie's along with them despite how hard she tried to resist.
This girl wasn't crazy—not wild in the sense of the kunoichi she'd encountered on her mission with Minato. Not the one who'd recklessly and violently wielded her mallet before her, taking glee in the pain and death of others. Not jaded and ruthless in the sense of the Iwa shinobi who'd kidnapped her, crippled her with fear. There wasn't anything broken about her, no, she was poised, she was driven—she knew exactly what she wanted. Perhaps she'd only gotten bored along the way.
Her face was one of someone who'd lost something—maybe validation, maybe the support she'd needed (genius is supposed to cultivate genius), and at some point she'd been left behind, and struggled forward in the only way she knew how: making others suffer; making them feel the same way she did. There wasn't anything broken about her. Only defeated.
If she knew she was only ruining herself, she didn't seem to care.
But her choices had caused someone close to her teammates to suffer. Namie didn't personally care much for Kyouya, really, but she couldn't forgive what the Nara had done. She'd give it back tenfold—once she was able.
"Don't—don't talk to her," Kohaku choked out, voice raw as she forced herself to speak, and Namie caught sight of her hand in the corner of her vision, clawing at the ground, seeking purchase, something familiar, while her eyesight returned. "She'll get in your head!"
Namie remained silent. Kept her eyes trained on the teenager standing confidently before her, toting a second scroll wrapped in a different color than the first they'd all been given. Team Two had already completed the task, she realized. Exchanged their scrolls at the checkpoint and were left with nothing more than to return to the starting point where the proctors awaited them. Already, they'd completed their objective when the confrontation began; when Team One finally caught up to Team Two to stop them from doing just that.
Nara Miho was two steps ahead. No—maybe more. Maybe she'd planned it from the start.
"It's a shame I can't fight you here, Namie-san. But I have a feeling it would be frowned upon and someone would face disqualification. Can't have that happen, now, can I?" She took a step backwards, which Namie had no choice but to copy. Took another, and another.
Namie walked backwards, past her two teammates left helpless on the ground, eyes swollen and watery, but she noticed that as the distance between them grew, the shadow connection thinned.
"Well, this was just a warning. I don't want those two getting in our way." She fell silent, offered a faint smile, pulling up her cheerful façade. "I can't control the technique past a certain distance. Once I'm far enough away, the connection will break. But we'll be long gone by then." As she spoke, her two teammates joined her at her side, looking back at Team One with smug smiles.
"Oh, there's only one scroll left at the exchange point, so try to hurry." She spared a few final words. Then, the shadows swallowed them.
Namie counted the seconds. Timed them with the beats of her heart.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Her fingers twitched. They slowly curled inwards, towards her palms, and her teeth clenched together. Her body was her own again.
She moved her feet.
Took a single step in the direction of the tower checkpoint, hearing only the Nara girl's remark about one scroll remaining—one chance at continuing on in the exams—before remembering her teammates were incapacitated.
No. This wasn't something she could do on her own. They were part of the team, too, and they had to do this together.
She shut her eyes and spun on her heel.
"Hibiki! Kohaku!"
Namie was at her teammates' sides in an instant, pulling her backpack from her shoulders and dropping it on the ground in front of her, digging through it for medical supplies. For medical balm. For water. Rags. Anything to help calm the inflammation. Her fingers fumbled against the cap of her canteen as she tried to twist it off—lost her patience and ripped it off when it wouldn't. Took Hibiki—who'd gotten the brunt of the attack and suffered silently, gritting his teeth and hissing, writhing and covering his eyes—by the chin and leaned his head back to pour the water over his eyes and flush out the pepper. Moved on to Kohaku once he took the bottle from her hands to help himself.
The girl had managed to open her eyes slightly by now, but Namie wasn't sure if she was seeing anything. She applied the same treatment to Kohaku, and the girl murmured words of thanks after accepting the second bottle.
"She got the jump on us," Hibiki admitted quietly, a little defeated, as he blinked his eyes and blearily glanced around, squinting past the dulling pain.
"She doesn't give a damn about us," Kohaku spat, eyes watering—whether they were tears or just a reaction to the irritant, Namie wasn't sure. "It wouldn't have mattered what we did."
Namie searched for something to say. Couldn't find the words.
"…Sorry for getting you involved in this, Namie-san." Hibiki's words were barely above a whisper, yet they seemed to echo in the silence. "Because of us, because of our plan, we might have jeopardized our chance to advance to the next stage."
"Guess you know why we didn't get promoted along with Kyouya, now, huh?" Kohaku said bitterly, rubbing irately at one eye. "All we think of is ourselves. If we didn't—if we showed half as much concern as you do for us—the incident during the last exams never would have happened."
She lowered her eyes to the ground, to the dirty bandages wrapped around her hands, remembering her moment of hesitation where she only thought about the objective, the scroll, the checkpoint—the chance to become a chūnin. Noticed that her fingers were curled against the dirt—noticed the tension in her brow where her eyebrows furrowed together. Felt the soft skin of the inside of her lip between her teeth.
For all she believed in teamwork and teammates being important, precious things, she'd been willing to throw it all away for an exam. It didn't work like that—no matter who was involved. People she'd known for her entire life, for only a year, for only a few short weeks... It was a moment of weakness. A lapse in judgment—and impatience. It wouldn't happen again.
She forced herself to relax and exhaled. "I may not be so different." Kohaku's head jerked up as she cast a bleary gaze in the blonde's direction, blinking rapidly to keep her in sight through the mist in her eyes. "But your teammate—Kyouya—is still alive. Be thankful."
The two Uchiha lapsed into a pensive, meek silence as they considered the girl's words. There was something in her tone, surrounding her words, that gave the statement an unspeakable weight.
Kohaku opened her mouth, then shut it, floundering for a response. It was Hibiki who ended up speaking. "…We just have to let it go. What Nara Miho did was unforgivable, but we can't—we can't let it drive us. We're not here to get revenge. Not now."
"We were wrong," Kohaku asserted, slowly pushing herself to her feet and dusting off her clothes. She offered her hand to Hibiki, who accepted it and was brought to his feet as well. They stood firmly, surely, exchanging a meaningful glance before turning their attention to Namie, renewed. "Let's get that scroll."
The old tiles of the forest's central tower creaked beneath their weight as they walked into the building, searching for the checkpoint. They'd entered into a large, open antechamber barren of decoration or direction—the off-white and tan colors of the chipped, stone walls and the several, faded notes and seal papers splattered across it were all that surrounded them, lined with shadows that retreated into corridors branching off into the back wall and the overhanging tiers of the level above. Stray ivy vines ventured past the open windows and trailed down to the floor in a timid attempt at returning the structure to nature.
Namie glanced around the room, scanning it over just to make sure she didn't miss anything vital. Nothing. Her eyes lingered on the windows, noticing the faint light that streamed in. The tower stood in a part of the forest that wasn't as dense or dark—the tree branches thinned out above it to account for its height, allowing for sunlight to filter through in the gaps around it. Like a metaphorical light in the darkness—if only it were that simple.
Not a soul was there to greet them.
The exchange checkpoint was nowhere in sight.
"Guess it wouldn't be so easy," Namie sighed. "We'll have to do some searching." She headed towards the hallway on the left.
She didn't make it a step before another team burst through the doors behind them, making quite the spectacle of themselves as they collapsed in a heap on the ground, panting.
"Phew, I thought we'd never make it here!" one of the genin exclaimed, pushing himself up on his elbows as he stared up at the ceiling.
He was a clan kid, Namie noticed. They all were. Beneath all the dirt and muck the trio of genin were covered in, she could spot the lineage symbols on their clothing in various places: a Hyuuga, an Akimichi and another she wasn't quite familiar with, but it was too prominent to be random clothing insignia.
The obscure-clan kunoichi quickly rose to her feet and grabbed the doors, closing them with a sound bang and keeping her hands pressed firmly against them, to keep them shut. At first, the blonde thought the motion was meant to close off her own team; to prevent them from leaving with the exchange item. But, then, why was she still pushing her full weight against the door…?
Her answer came in the form of a low rumble; the ground quaked beneath their feet, just faintly, but noticeable enough that Hibiki briefly lost his footing. It wasn't tectonics, she was certain—something above ground caused it.
Then, the doors shook as a great mass knocked against the outside, nearly throwing them open—and would have, if not for the fact that the other two genin hopped up on their feet and helped their teammate barricade them.
"It's here!"
"What is that? What's here?!" Namie cried, torn between taking a step toward the newly-arrived trio and retreating further into the tower to finish her team's search for the checkpoint. Kohaku and Hibiki stood their ground, tense and ready to crouch into a fighting stance as the doors quaked once again—and exploded in a shower of splinters.
The three genin were thrown back by the force—but if they remained where they were, would have been crushed as a giant centipede burst into the room, throwing its girth forward to land with a deafening crash upon the tiles—destroying them. Its several legs writhed as it pushed itself up, poised like a snake bent against the ceiling, and sought out its target. Rather—out of the six present, it only had eyes for the team it followed, who were armed with kunai and shuriken, desperate to protect themselves as their foe closed in.
"We should go," Kohaku whispered harshly, grasping Namie's arm urgently and giving a slight tug as she stepped backwards, away from the creature. "This isn't something we should get caught up in. If we sneak into the hallway—"
Namie's attention was fixed on the Uchiha girl, yet from the corner of her eye—and from the vibrations that traveled through the ground—she saw the centipede rush the trio of genin in a red blur.
They didn't stand a chance.
It worked to their advantage—it meant one less competing team, especially when they were both so close to the checkpoint. One of them would be leaving with the scroll, and Namie dearly wished it would be Team One. If she left things the way they were, it would be her team's victory.
…However, children trembling in terror in the face of danger wasn't something she could just turn a blind eye to.
She wrenched her arm away from Kohaku against her better judgment and took off running to help the clan kids in their struggle, reaching for the scroll that held her mallet.
"Namie!"
The girl's cries went ignored; the soles of Namie's ninja sandals skidded along the ground as she stopped in the oversized arthropod's attack path, forcing its chitinous torso to collide with the head of her mallet as she gave a mighty swing—put her all into knocking it away.
It barely budged.
But it did stop.
Namie's eyes traveled up, up—taking in the great height of the bug-on-steroids as its trunk rose toward the ceiling and its thorn-like appendages oscillated. Its antennae quivered, its head titled ever-so-slightly as it glanced down at the children standing before it in awe as if they were in the presence of a god or something equally as fearsome—and may as well have been, for the fact that it could easily destroy them.
Just where were those supposed examiners tasked with keeping an eye on them?
The thought barely finished running through her mind when the centipede struck out, darting forward in a smooth arc, ready to grab with its legs, crush with its jaws that were closing in much, much quicker than she expected and, oh, ninja training never did cover combat with mutated bugs that could do god-knows-what and what if she died here it would be a stupid death it really would just who gets eaten by a giant centipede during the chūnin exams no less—
"DUCK!"
Namie's head snapped to the side as an unfamiliar voice burst through the tension, and she saw Hibiki dash out from behind Kohaku with a fierce, determined concentration on his face as his fingers weaved a series of seals and his lips slowly parted, and the faint flicker of a spark could be seen between his teeth before it erupted into a full-blown fireball that shot straight through the air like an arrow aimed true—and she barely did have time to heed his words and drop down as the flames cut through the narrow space left between her and the centipede.
It came close, but the fireball jutsu missed the creature completely—only scorched the ends of its antennae as it drew back wildly, emitted a high-pitched cry and wheeled backwards, losing its balance and crashing over sideways, writhing.
A second stream of fire splashed against the tiles in front of the centipede, and it shrank away from the heat, retreating further. Kohaku and Hibiki rejoined Namie and stood as a barricade in front of the trio of genin, replacing them as the forest beast's opponents.
The aim here wasn't to kill, no, but to drive it back. Away from the tower.
While Kohaku continued a steady assault of fireballs, Hibiki stepped forward and began a separate series of hand seals, fingers weaving fluidly together in a blur—and they fixed on the final sign as he caught the creature with an unblinking stare—and his Sharingan blazed.
The centipede went still, as if turned to stone, frozen in a gnarled, defensive slump, and not one of its legs quivered as a genjutsu settled over it like dust.
Then, its body rose up once more, though the motion was jerky. Almost robotic. It wavered for a moment, as if weak and ready to topple over, but then it turned, actions becoming smoother the more it moved. It turned and retreated through the broken doorway, legs scurrying in unison, and it dragged itself along the ground and into the bushes until it was well out of sight.
Hibiki dropped the hand seal and closed his eyes, heaving a great breath as his knees gave out and he collapsed. Kohaku was at his side in an instant, holding him up and muttering rapidly under her breath about chakra control as he panted and sweat dripped from beneath his forehead protector, trickling down his face.
Namie watched them for a moment, felt the slight pang of envy as Kohaku fretted over her teammate with care, reaching into her backpack for a lilac-colored handkerchief she used to dab at the boy's clammy skin, which he half-heartedly tried to push away. There was a bit more than just camaraderie there—she could see it in the tender actions. It wasn't a moment she wanted to intrude on.
A faint smile crossed her lips before it dropped back into a frown and she turned to face the three genin who'd brought calamity in their wake. She set the handle of her mallet against her shoulder as she keenly studied the three, narrowing her eyes.
Seeing the blonde broke them out of their stupor and they began to collect themselves, sheathing their weapons and having the decency to at least look ashamed of the entire spectacle. Someone cleared their throat, and the kunoichi wearing the unknown clan insignia stepped forward, putting herself between her team and Namie. She held herself with a type of forced dignity that was completely out of place among the ruined antechamber that was still shrouded in thin clouds of dust and debris.
"Thank—thank you." She choked on her words. A faint pink tinge overtook her cheeks as she glanced away. "Thank you for that. It was our fault."
"It was my fault," the Hyuuga boy interrupted, jumping to his feet. "We interrupted the nest and I accidentally crushed some of the monster's eggs—I didn't mean to."
"Hold on. They didn't have to help." The Akimichi boy was on his feet as well, hurrying to his teammates' sides. "There's no need to thank them. This doesn't change anything."
Namie raised an eyebrow and shifted her weight, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against the mallet handle in her grip. "You can say that, but you looked like you pissed yourself."
The boy shrunk back and looked away with a troubled expression, running his hands through his fair, spiky hair. He mumbled something she couldn't quite hear.
"It doesn't matter," the girl interrupted. "He's right. We are grateful, but we're still opponents. We heard there was only one scroll left here."
"We never expected you to let us just take it," Kohaku spat out as she approached the group with one of Hibiki's arms slung around her shoulders. He offered Namie a vague but reassuring half-smile when she glanced his way in concern. "But we won't give it up easily, either." An unhappy frown marred her pretty face as she bit her lip, and her expression clearly read she wished she would have insisted that Namie follow her and Hibiki to locate the checkpoint before getting involved with this team's mess.
Namie glanced at her teammates, then looked over to the other three genin. Neither team looked particularly fit to compete despite their words. She shut her eyes and exhaled briefly, then let her mallet fall from her shoulder as she sealed it back into a scroll. Brushed her hands together to shake off the dust and set her hands on her hips, standing tall. "We'll compete, then. One of you versus me. We'll have a race to see who makes it to the checkpoint first, and whoever makes it—well, gets to take the exchange item back to the examiners and move on to the next stage."
Kohaku opened her mouth to protest, but Hibiki shook his head and she remained silent. Without a word, she passed their scroll over to the blonde.
She watched the trio exchange looks before turning their backs to hold council. The Hyuuga's high ponytail bobbed as he nodded his head, and a pained, bitter expression remained rigid on the Akimichi's face as they discussed the matter with their kunoichi teammate. Finally, the girl turned to face the blonde and took a moment to straighten her forehead protector, tightening the knot, before speaking. "We accept. There's no telling when someone else will come along, so we need to get this over with. I'll do it." Her words were firm, yet her eyes were restless. Nervous.
Namie nodded. "Okay." She looked past the brunette kunoichi, to the Hyuuga boy. "You, give us the start signal."
"A-ah, right. Ready?" He paused as the two kunoichi moved to stand side by side, one cracking her knuckles and the other remaining still. "Go!"
The two girls tore off in a blur of color, each heading towards the same hallway, close on each other's heels.
The kunoichi was following her, Namie realized. But it was a smart move—splitting up would result in someone finding it first and someone else missing the mark completely. If they kept each other within their sights, they would reach their destination at the same time, and then, whoever met the goal first would secure victory. It was a matter of luck.
The walls closed in on them as they entered the dimly-lit hallway, racing neck-and-neck, feet pounding soundlessly against the tiles as they ran, barely touching the ground for their speed.
The hallway turned sharply right and Namie barely cleared the edge of the wall with as close as the other girl was traveling, and her feet skidded as she reached for purchase on the ground to keep from crashing into the wall as she careened around it. The clan girl gained the lead.
Weak lights flickered overhead as they traveled deeper into the corridors, sometimes casting them completely in shadow when they failed, but their goal could be seen clearly—there, at the end of the long stretch of the hall, was a set of double doors, shut tight. There was nowhere else to go; if the checkpoint didn't lie beyond those doors, they would have to double back and search the other hallway that branched off of the antechamber.
A set of spiraling stairs greeted them. Namie pushed herself, scaling them two at a time, and quickly caught up with the kunoichi again, matching her pace and keeping them tied. Her foot was the first that reached the second level, and she pulled ahead by a few precious paces as she kept her eyes focused on the next door that blocked their way.
Something was beyond it. She could feel it.
The checkpoint…!
Namie threw her full weight against the doors, shoving them open, and stumbled past them when they gave way.
A vast, empty room greeted her. No—even with it being empty, there was a great presence in the statue that stood just opposite her across the large room, looming like a mountain. It was something she'd seen before—blurry in her mind, yet familiar. A landmark.
She pressed onward. Ran towards the statue, seeing the small, rectangular pedestal standing before it, holding a single, red-wrapped scroll with a golden tie in all its glory.
The checkpoint.
The kunoichi was at her side again in an instant, running full tilt, refusing to lose this opportunity.
Shoulder knocked against shoulder—they ran together, as one, both stretching out their hands as they neared the table, closing in rapidly, meters becoming centimeters—
Fingertips brushed the edges of the scroll—
A hand closed around it, seizing victory.
Namie barely kept herself from crashing into the table as a grin of triumph stretched across her lips and she glanced down in wonder at the scroll clutched between her bandage-wrapped fingers, as if it were a trophy. She looked over to the girl, not to gloat, but to check her reaction, check for retaliation, and what she saw was a mirror image.
The clan kunoichi's stared, eyes wide in wonder; her jaw unhinged as she, too, held a scroll in her hand.
The blonde's grin shifted into an astonished smile. "Well, I'll be damned. There were two."
A/N: Still a bit iffy on some parts of this chapter, but, well, here it is! Should be pretty clean, too, but if I missed a typo or two please excuse my tired eyes.
Thanks for reading and see you next update!