Chapter Thirty-three: Stage Two, Epiphany
The two kunoichi rejoined their respective teams in the damaged antechamber, no longer immediate competitors but fellow genin who'd been caught up in a clever scheme meant to turn them against each other that only ended up drawing a sort of kindred friendship between them instead.
The kunoichi's name was Sarutobi Yuuka—as soon as she heard the surname, the familiar clan marking registered in her mind like it should have been obvious from the start, though she'd never seen the only Sarutobi she was extensively acquainted with display that particular symbol anywhere on his clothing, and she only knew it from reading up on Konoha's history and its supporting clans. The clan was dwindling, from what she knew, but there were a few remaining relatives that upheld the name. The girl was only distantly related to the Hokage.
"Sandaime? What does he have to do with it?" Namie asked, comfortable around the girl and her teammates now that they weren't struggling against each other.
Yuuka turned to her and raised an eyebrow, as if she expected her to understand. "Well, for one, he's the most prominent clansman in the family aside from his late father. Two, one of his sons was your teacher, I've heard."
The answer hit her like a sucker punch. "'Son…?' Hiroto-sensei is?" She repeated the words for confirmation, too flabbergasted to grasp them properly. If he was one of Hiruzen's sons, then…well…she didn't know how many children he had, but there was a chance he would become the father to Konohamaru in the future.
"That's right," the girl answered with a cheery nod. "One of two. Asuma-kun's still really young, though. And…." She seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but held her tongue and shrugged with a smile, ending her response. "You didn't know?"
Then he was definitely meant to become the father to Konohamaru, in that case. The realization squeezed the breath out of her lungs and she felt a delirious, forced smile rise to her face.
"I…didn't."
Really, she didn't know much about Hiroto at all. Even if he'd been around for years. Even if he'd been her teacher. But it wasn't as if they'd ever gone through a get-to-know-each-other routine. It would have been even more terse, straight-and-to-the-point than Kakashi's future Team Seven meet and greet.
But, more importantly, just what if he'd died during the catastrophic mission that led to his retirement? Just how fucked would history be when Konohamaru wasn't born? Even if he didn't hold a terribly prominent role as far as she knew, he was still a future-friend to Naruto. Similar to the relationship she'd had with Kushina when they were younger. The boy deserved that.
Namie leaned against the wall behind her and briefly closed her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms against the eyelids. This new chunk of knowledge was a great weight. Another responsibility to throw in with the rest. "That guy..."
The fact that this was all secondhand information, like an afterthought, from a girl she'd just met in the chūnin exams irked her beyond belief. More than it should have. She smacked a fist against the wall behind her before pushing away from it and approaching Kohaku and Hibiki, who chatted quietly with the Akimichi and Hyuuga boys.
"We should get back to the examiners. How much longer do we have?"
"Just under twelve hours," the Hyuuga replied.
"Plenty of time," Kohaku added. "And rather than pressing on with soldier pills, why don't we stop and have an actual meal? Resting up is a plus, as well. After all that's happened." She added the last part quickly, though her eyes flicked to Hibiki, who didn't quite look up to one-hundred percent just yet. It wasn't a suggestion.
"There's a river nearby," Yuuka piped up as she packed the checkpoint scroll away in her backpack, carefully, as if it were made of thin glass. "Saw it on the way here. We can set up a perimeter so we won't be ambushed, cook what we catch and…just take a break."
Waiting and wasting more time wasn't something Namie wanted to do, then, but it couldn't be avoided with Hibiki's current state. The longer they waited, the further Nara Miho and her team ran ahead. Probably, they were close to returning to Koemi and Masato, by now. Always a few steps ahead.
But, for now…that could wait.
Team One and Team Six—as Yuuka's team had been called—arrived at the forest's exit with time to spare. Team Two and four other unknown groups awaited them, with one other loitering near the medic tent, receiving treatment.
The eight teams promised to pass were all present.
Koemi was in the midst of speaking to the medic nin stationed at the tent, too busy to acknowledge them, so Masato met them in her place.
"Well, well. Looks like we've got our victors for this round," the sandy-haired man speculated with a grin playing at his lips. As expected, he recorded the results on his clipboard. After his pen finished scratching against paper, he glanced up at the eight teams with bright eyes. "So, Teams One, Two, Four, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, and Eleven will advance to Stage Two, which is," he paused with a dramatic flair, yet no one was impressed. Only impatient. He quickly read the atmosphere and his shoulders drooped a bit as he revealed the next task. "Team-versus-team battles." He gauged the crowd for their reaction, yet they revealed nothing. He sighed. "To determine which team you'll be up against, turn in the checkpoint scroll to me and I'll assign you a number." His voiced maintained the enthusiasm despite the crowd's bland focus.
The seven teams crowded around the examiner and handed over their scrolls one at a time. Namie caught Yuuka's eye and they exchanged a nod of understanding—knowing that perhaps it would be their teams pitted against each other in the next round.
But it wasn't.
"Team Eleven—who's Team Eleven?" Kohaku muttered under her breath as they received their match-up, scanning each face in the small crowd to find the ones designated as their competition.
"Don't know." Namie gave a shrug, half-relieved and half-pissed off that they didn't get paired up with the Nara girl's team. She owed her one. A big one.
And preferably in the form of knuckles striking teeth.
But…her shadow technique was a giant, glaring obstacle standing in the way of that.
"It's that team without a kunoichi over there," Hibiki contributed, eyeing a three-man squad that consisted of surly-looking teenage boys oozing testosterone and just itching for a fight. A plain brunet, one with a shaven head, and one more squat and sturdy than the other two. A group of muscle heads, Namie concluded. But she knew better than to judge them based solely on their combative demeanors and compulsive knuckle-cracking. They'd made it back to the gate before their team had, anyway. Even with the detour.
Masato clapped his hands together, regaining the crowd's attention, and by then Koemi sauntered back over to his side to give the passing teams a quick once-over of approval. "Alright, that takes care of that. Everyone's paired up and the team battles will be as follows. Please raise your hands as we call your team number so everyone's clear on their opponents." He checked his clipboard and seemed to be writing down the roster as he spoke it. "Team One versus Team Eleven."
The trio of jock-shinobi sent curious leers towards the blonde and her Uchiha teammates in unison as soon the instant they raised their hands. If Namie wasn't mistaken, there was a wavering spark of uncertainty in their eyes as they spotted the clan symbols on Kohaku and Hibiki's clothing.
"Team Two versus Team Six."
Ah.
Her new enemy versus her new friend. A brief sense of loss seized her as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that she wanted to fight Miho—to rub her nose in the dirt, really—and the desire to see Yuuka and her team end up the victors.
She wasn't stupid enough to believe they would—not when Nara Miho was against them. By the look on Yuuka's face, she was fighting against the same thought and did her best to remain steeled in the face of her opponent. Miho spared her only a brief glance.
"Team Four versus Team Nine, and Team Five versus Team Eight."
Koemi clapped her hands together and a grin rose to her pale lips. "That's that, then! You'll all be meetin' back here in this exact spot in two—uh, no, three to account fer Team Nine's injuries—days' time to begin Stage Two. Rest up an' come prepared to fight!"
They didn't plan on doing anything less.
Namie wasn't worried about the trio of genin her team was set to fight. Certainly, she and the two Uchiha had much improvement to make concerning communication and trust, but combative teamwork was one of their strengths. No, that wasn't the issue here.
It was the possibility—no, the desire—that she would face Miho again and be terribly unprepared to handle her cunning jutsu that ate away at her thoughts and stole hours of sleep from her at night.
Had there ever been a way to counter it…? No matter how hard she scrubbed her mind for clues, she couldn't find the memories. Wasn't sure. Doubted it, really. One of its most prominent users took down an immortal with it, but then again was recognized genius. She wasn't sure how far up the ladder of talent Miho was, but she was far from stupid.
Her only remaining choice was to interrogate the people she knew.
"The Nara clan's jutsu? Nope, haven't fought against it before. Why're you asking, Namie-chan?" Kushina probably wasn't the best person to ask, and she wasn't her first choice, either—Minato was busy with his duties, however, and Namie happened to run into the energetic redhead while she browsed groceries in the market district.
"I'm taking the chūnin exams and there are a few clan kids around. Pretty sure I can handle most of them, but those shadows…" she trailed off with a shrug, accepting the vegetable-crammed paper bag shoved into her arms without complaint.
The Habanero flashed one of her trademark grins as she sank into a half-serious fighting pose and punched the air in front of her with powerful but graceful force with her free hand while the other held another grocery sack. "Just give 'em the old one-two, 'ttebane! Before they even know what's hit 'em! Then they can't really counter, right?"
'Sure, maybe that would work if I was Hurricane Kushina,' she was tempted to say, but managed to hold her tongue and gave a wry smile instead. Her lips dropped into a frown as it hit her though—metaphorically—Kushina was onto something with her exuberant, physically-violent gusto. It was something she should have realized sooner, really. As long as she kept Miho busy and too distracted to start up the technique, she'd never have the chance to turn the tides in her favor.
Then, just like that, the dam broke open and ideas began to flow. Really, it wasn't so difficult from the start. Before she was caught in the jutsu, the playing field belonged to her. There were numerous ways around the binding technique—it wasn't the end until she actually ended up caught in its hold.
She would make damn sure that didn't happen again.
Team One and Eleven were first up as soon as all participating genin arrived at the Forest of Death for team matches. No warm-up, no prep time—right into battle.
Twenty-four genin remained in the running: no one was naïve enough to think this wasn't the elimination round.
As with everything else, there were no rules binding them save for the shinobi code of conduct and the restriction that they weren't allowed to kill their comrades since, as Masato reminded them once again, this wasn't that type of exam.
The six genin faced each other in the makeshift arena of flat, barren forest ground, creating two perfectly parallel lines of bodies as they awaited the examiners' starting signal. The other six teams lingered on the sidelines, close, but not close enough to catch the backlash from any attacks, and Masato remained in the distance with them to act as a buffer while Koemi stood between teams One and Eleven, silent as she prepared to set them loose to battle.
Time seemed to slow down to an agonizing rate as the woman's arm rose up through the heavy air and her lips parted, but the words took forever to leave her mouth.
Namie felt the prickle of perspiration just beneath the rough fabric of her hitai-ate and, despite the chilled air around them, a nervous heat of excitement seized her. Her fingers itched to hold the cold steel of a kunai, to grip the smooth hilt of her mallet—she wanted to taste the earth, to taste blood and victory and as soon as her burning gaze met the dark eyes of the brunet opponent standing directly before her, she knew it was only moments away from her grasp.
Fear—there was fear in the boy's stare, but he wasn't afraid of her. He was afraid of losing and she knew he'd already lost just by thinking it because it meant he wasn't prepared and he didn't trust in his teammates and that small, simple observation alone pushed a full-fledged smile onto her lips as Koemi's voice rang loud and clear through the ringing silence and time sped up once again and everything exploded into action at once.
"BEGIN!"
The woman body flickered away from the midst of the fight the instant she'd spoken, and the two teams launched their first attacks.
Two snakes of fire sprawled through the air to meet a barrage of spinning blades head-on, blazing the metal into white-hot stars that bent under heat and lost their shape, becoming formless blobs that dripped to the ground in molten heaps.
A second wave of shuriken zipped between the flames, relentless, accompanied by a geyser of water that pulsed toward the Uchihas' twin fireball jutsu and doused them in a burst of steam and left the two vulnerable to attack. An earthen wall surged upward from the ground to cut off the enemy technique and shielded the Uchiha genin as they deflected the projectiles with deftly-wielded kunai.
The quickly-constructed wall of dirt crumbled under a powerful kick and a flash of sparks, spraying debris in every direction as the three boys charged in with a frontal attack.
Namie caught the boy whose eyes had been filled with fear—now, with determination—around the neck with her arm in a clothesline move and threw him back as his teammates surged forward to engage the others of Team One and he dropped toward the ground, catching himself before he crashed and rolled backwards and back onto his feet, taking a second to recover before folding his hands together in a series of seals—but by then, Namie was already gone, sunk deep within the earth and moving towards her teammates, target set.
Her fingers sprung up through the ground and grasped the ankle of the genin fighting Kohaku—one swift tug, and he was encased up to the neck. The Uchiha gave the blonde a brief nod of thanks before whipping around to go to Hibiki's aid, braid bouncing behind her.
A shuriken zinged past the blonde's face, just a mite too close, and split open the skin of her ear as it flew by. She stepped back on impulse and grabbed at her ear to suppress the sting and found two arms clamped around her in a vice hold. She shifted her weight, tried to offset the boy's balance and use momentum to overthrow him, but a fist rapped her sharply on the head and she saw stars. A well-placed kick to the knee and she was down, shoved aside and doused with a jet of water. She swiped the moisture away from her eyes and blinked rapidly through her matted bangs, spotting a wicked grin spread across the brunet boy's face as he held a final hand seal and sparks danced around him.
She became acutely aware of her drenched state and hesitated, froze up, knowing just what would happen the moment that lightning chakra hit her. She raised her hands to perform an earth-style technique, but knew better—that electricity would only render it useless. Then, a substitute—she snagged hold of the plan and rapidly weaved through the required hand seals, seeking out a replacement and forcing it in her place.
Namie hit the ground on her knees in a freshly-dug dent on the earth where a tree stump previously stood, just in time to see the object taking the brunt of the electrocution, coming out of it as nothing but a charred block. Her eyes darted across the arena to find her teammates. Kohaku, locked in combat with the squat boy nearby, glanced over briefly to assess the damage and returned to her opponent the moment she caught the blonde's eye—then quickly looked back to shout, but by then a body blocked her view and a sudden blow rained down on her.
Namie pushed off from the ground and rolled out of the way as the bald-headed genin's heel slammed down into the dirt where she'd been only moments before—he was their taijutsu powerhouse, she realized, jaw dropping as the hit left a small crater in the ground and sent up a wave of dirt.
She reached for the scroll that held her mallet on instinct and withdrew it without hesitation, using it to block the genin's punch and keep him at bay as he charged.
Hibiki—where was Hibiki?
Her answer came in the form of her slack-jawed enemy. He'd frozen up mid-punch and his hands fell uselessly to his sides as his eyes glazed over and irises slowly traced an unconnected pattern upwards into the sky, looking at something unseen, until they rolled into his skull and he keeled over, unconscious.
The mousy-haired Uchiha darted out from behind Namie and cut across the arena in a straight line for Kohaku, who'd surrounded her enemy in flames that were just as quickly extinguished.
A stream of lightning zapped the ground at her feet as she made to follow him.
The brunet boy scowled at her and rushed in for close combat—revenge, she was certain—and his kunai clashed with the hilt of her mallet. She gave a rough shove and knocked him away, using the distance to swing her weapon in a mindful, adjusted arc, meant to damage and not kill, to catch him in the side—ended up hitting his arm and heard the satisfying creaking of bones as something snapped.
His right arm fell uselessly down, but he withdrew another kunai and moved in for another straightforward strike with a yell. Namie shifted her weight and set the mallet against the ground, using it as leverage to vault her leg into the air and catch him square in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.
He dropped to his knees, wheezing, clutching at his sternum, and before Namie could make the finishing move by knocking him out via pressure point, he froze up in the same manner as his teammate, glazed eyes staring into a fantasy as Hibiki's genjutsu captured him. He dropped sideways and slept on the earth as if it were his own bed.
Two down—no, three.
Namie glanced sharply to her side to see Hibiki and Kohaku, mostly unharmed and only a little damp from sweat and water techniques, but smiling. It was their victory, but she'd known that from the start.
"Winners: Team One!" Koemi shouted out as she entered the arena once again, followed by a trio of medic-nin who immediately tended to the fallen team. She stood before the two Uchiha and the blonde with an approving grin. "Team One advances to Stage Three!"
It was just too easy.
Masato ushered them to the first-aid station as soon as they set foot outside of the arena and the next teams took their place, but Namie paused and stayed to watch as Nara Miho and Sarutobi Yuuka took up positions opposite each other, ready to fight.
The green-eyed Senju gave the signal—yet no one moved.
No—only Yuuka, the Hyuuga and Akimichi were still. Not by choice. Miho's shadow snaked out across the ground like a net and ensnared the three in its clutches, freezing them in place and the terror, the shock, the utter defeat displayed on the trio's faces as realization sunk in was difficult to bear. They hadn't expected it and they couldn't counter it.
Loss happened in an instant. Team Two's male shinobi launched forward and dealt heavy blows to the other team, dropping them all in a dead faint, ending the match within a minute.
It was hardly fair—seemed like an underhanded trick. Namie made to step forward, but a hand on her arm stopped her.
"Namie-san, your ear," Kohaku said pointedly, eyeing the blood seeping from the split skin. "Let's get you to the medic."
"It's nothing." The blonde reached up to her ear to cover the injury and protect it from the frigid air, yet kept her eyes trained on Team Two. The Nara kunoichi briefly caught her gaze and managed a small, wickedly self-satisfied and weasel-like smirk in her direction before following her teammate-lackeys to the sidelines with bounce in her step, basking in the quick victory.
Kohaku gave another insistent tug and Namie let her drag her along without complaint.
By the time Team One weaved their way through the crowd of genin and made it across the field to the first-aid tent, Team Six was already receiving care, still unconscious and resting on cots that lined the far side of the shelter. Namie wondered if they'd even realized what hit them—if they even knew they'd lost the moment the battle began, not given a single chance to retaliate or even make their first move.
"Namie!"
The blonde found herself being steered by the shoulders and parked on a medical cot as a wet cloth was pressed against her ear to stem the steady bleeding and a familiar face greeted her. Taji, who she barely recognized when wrapped up in that cream-colored field medic frock and beret, with her hair pulled back and only escaping from beneath the hat in wisps. There was an unmistakable glint of worry in dark eyes, though they were more focused on observing and sanitizing her wound than looking at her face and worrying over her as a daughter—she was in full business mode.
"Mom," she mumbled the greeting, suppressing a hiss when antiseptic stung the split skin and burned away bacteria and whatever lingered from the shuriken blade that caused the wound. It hurt more than she expected—she wondered if it would scar and leave her looking like a ratty alley cat with a notched ear. Well, with Taji there, it probably wouldn't happen. Sure enough, she brought out the surgical thread and began stitching it up.
She could see Kohaku and Hibiki resting across the room, conversing in low tones as the medics checked them over. From what she could tell, the two Uchiha hadn't received any damage aside from fatigue—Hibiki's usage of genjutsu did wear on him, especially for three opponents. Her attention returned to the brunette woman when the decisive snip of scissors met her ears and a bandage was pressed gently across her ear.
"There, you're set."
She raised a hand to assess the medical care and fiddle with the awkward feeling of the thing wrapped around it, but quickly dropped her fingers at the sharp look Taji sent her.
It briefly occurred to her that she'd ended up in the medical bay even though she'd tried to stay unharmed, despite the injury being minor. "…Thanks."
The woman spared her a brief nod and smile as she dried her hands on a towel and glanced around the room at the other patients. This wasn't a time to talk, she knew, though she would have liked to. It was most likely a coincidence that her adoptive mother was the one to tend to her.
"I'll see you at home. Don't pick at that," were her final words on the matter before she moved on to the next batch of genin who'd been ushered into the tent.
The brief respite didn't last long—ten minutes later and the team matches came to an end, with all victors decided.
The twelve genin meant to advance to Stage Three stood before Koemi and Masato as the two began to explain the next part of the exam, undaunted by the light drizzle that began to fall from the sky.
"Congrats on getting' this far," Koemi started, beaming like a ball of sunshine even in the dreary weather. "This's the point of the exam where your actions as a team come to an end and you start workin' as individual units."
"That is," Masato picked up, "Stage Three is where you will be fighting each other one-on-one to display your abilities in full. It will be a public event held in the stadium in two weeks' time.
"Unlike this round, you won't be given your opponents' names beforehand and it'll be randomized for the occasion. The six winners immediately advance to the finals, that is, three one-on-one matches, and the three genin remaining will be prioritized in the consideration for promotion based on overall performance in the entirety of the exam," he concluded.
"Couldn't've said it better myself! Any questions?" Koemi asked.
One of the male genin raised his hand. "What do you mean prioritized? We won't automatically become chūnin when we win?"
'When,' Namie thought with no small amount of humor, 'how confident.'
The Senju woman hummed. "Yer all being evaluated from start to finish, here. Just because ya lose doesn't mean ya completely lose the chance ta become chūnin. Just 'cause ya win doesn't mean ya automatically get it either." Namie could've been mistaken, but she thought she saw the woman's green eyes dart briefly towards Nara Miho. But it could have been a trick of the dwindling light as clouds passed overhead.
A quiet murmur ran through the group before they fell silent once more, awaiting further direction.
Masato nodded. "Then, we look forward to seeing you all there. As always, if anyone doesn't show or arrives late, they will accept forfeit and end their participation in the—"
"Wait a second," someone interrupted, and it took Namie a moment to realize Kohaku was speaking beside her, hand raised in question.
"Oh, yes? Another question?"
The girl nodded. "You said we stop acting as teams. Does that mean we may have to fight one of our teammates in this next stage?"
Koemi nodded. "Ya sure might! There may come a time in yer lives where ya have to fight friends as enemies, so you gotta have the will to do that, and be prepared. It's entirely possible," she replied blithely, though there was firmness in her tone that held no humor. This, just as everything else, held an underlying lesson.
It wasn't something Namie had considered before, and her eyes slowly wandered towards her teammates, who shared the glance.
With a creeping sense of dread, she realized fighting Nara Miho wasn't the biggest obstacle she'd be facing in this test and it had been foolish to focus on it as much as she had, because now there was something else to worry about—Hibiki and Kohaku.
Team One—no longer a team, now—made the unanimous decision to go their separate ways during the two-week preparation period for the exam finals since sticking together would only be counterproductive if they were to become potential opponents.
But the team had served its purpose—they'd gotten to the point where they'd wanted to be together, and though it had been fleeting, though they hadn't exactly come to understand each other, there were no ill feelings born between the three. Namie was under no illusion they ever would become close, since they had their other teammate to worry about, as well as their clan. She'd always gotten the feeling they viewed her as an outsider despite their warmth in welcoming her and treating her as an equal and not some burden of a child. They were still Uchiha, after all.
Uchiha who were proficient with genjutsu.
If only she knew her lack of ability with resistance would come back to bite her in the ass like this—she wasn't hopeful enough to believe her handle on resisting genjutsu had magically improved since her fight with that rogue kunoichi who wasn't even an Uchiha. Plus, she'd only ever been exposed to illusions cast by basic users—never from someone whose lineage was rife with fine control of the skill.
She should have taken Hiroto more seriously. Hadn't he told her? Warned her? Tried to help her?
But he wasn't there to help her, not anymore, and she couldn't even approach him to talk strategy.
So when she found herself wandering down the familiar path to the hospital, damn near coming close to the building entrance itself, she dug her feet into the ground and forced herself to walk in the opposite direction. Because god forbid her ex-teacher look out the window and see her lurking about outside like some weirdo.
'I'm an idiot,' Namie decided, slapping her palm to her forehead.
"Now there's a familiar face."
The blonde lowered her hand and glanced over her shoulder to see someone she hadn't seen in quite some time—and, with a twinge of guilt, nearly forgot about completely despite being part of the same friend group. "Oh, Genma. Long time no see." She eyed the medicated bandages wrapped around his forearms and plastered to his face with a raised brow. "Training been rough, huh?"
He gave a small shrug as he looked down at his injured arm and spoke around the ever-present dango stick set between his lips. "Thanks to an angry housecat."
She grimaced in sympathy. Baby mission detail wasn't something she wanted to go back to any time soon. "Where's the rest of your team?"
"They weren't the ones who had to hold the cat, so they went ahead without me—ah, you don't know, do you? The whole group's meeting for lunch today. You should come along for once, Namie."
Right. The distance hadn't appeared out of thin air—offers and invitations to the local yakiniku restaurant had been extended to her through either Suzume or Toboe (and just once from Raidou, in passing), yet she'd pushed aside every chance to hang out and socialize in favor of training. It was a wonder they still gave her a second thought. She'd been neglecting them for far too long.
It would be a nice break from the tension and stress of the exams pressing down on her.
"Sure."
The boy's eyes widened slightly, as he'd been expecting a different answer, but before long, his cool expression returned. "Let's go, then."
The small group's chattering died off into silence the moment Namie came into view—she was acutely aware of the way all eyes turned to her as soon as she followed Genma there. It was the usual crowd, all accounted for: Toboe, Suzume, Ebisu, Raidou, Aoba, Toriichi, Genma, and herself. Just like old times. Just a little older.
But the silence didn't last.
"Hey, it's about time you joined us, Strawhead!" Toboe's slack-jawed expression turned into a grin as Suzume nudged him further along the booth seat to make room for the new arrivals, and—squashing eight people into a restaurant booth meant for at most six was a feat only the upbeat kids could accomplish. Elbows dug into sides, legs pressed against legs, and she was pretty sure the fair-haired Toriichi was crammed against the wall—Namie was thankful she was on the outside end of the seat, even though the crowd threatened to send her toppling right off the edge at any moment.
"So, what's the deal?" Aoba began from across the grill-topped table, pushing up his sunglasses. "These three were just talking about how you stopped going to joint practice with them." He pointed out Suzume's team with a vague gesture as he crossed his arms on the table's edge.
"It was a bit worrisome, Namie-chan. Not a word or anything. How are you doing?" The curly-haired girl asked, giving the girl beside her a sidelong glance, not ashamed at all that she'd been caught talking about her while she wasn't around. Or just hiding it well.
"Sensei told us not to ask, but—" Toboe paused mid-sentence with a grimace as Suzume's knee made a move that was undoubtedly meant to quiet him. He scowled half-heartedly. "Come on, is it that big a deal? Strawhead would tell us—right, Strawhead?"
"But, of course, she's under no obligation to."
The others looked on curiously as Suzume and Toboe spoke, before watching Namie for her response.
"'Namie this' and 'Namie that,' isn't her business her business? Besides, we came here to eat." Ebisu's objection was spoken at just the right time, just as the waiter delivered their barbecue ingredients and spared the girl from answering as everyone pounced on the food.
The topic at hand seemed to go on forgotten in favor of lighter, friendly conversation and fights over the best-looking bits of meat and vegetables that sizzled on the grill.
"So, the next chūnin exam is happening now," Raidou brought up off-handedly. "Finals are coming up; it's always cool to see the one-on-ones. Some turn out pretty amazing."
"Ah, right, like Habanero-sama's match! She was smokin'—" Ebisu broke in suddenly, grinning, before catching Namie's flat, dubious stare and clearing his throat. "It was—she's really talented. Scary. That is, powerful." His voice tapered off into a mumble as he grabbed some food with his chopsticks and shoved it into his mouth.
"That one was pretty good. Probably legendary. I'm pretty sure the arena walls she broke took months to repair," Aoba said with a hint of a grin.
Namie allowed a small smirk onto her lips at the thought of Kushina's chūnin exam. She'd missed the girl's fight (hadn't even been there to witness her brother's), but she could only imagine it was befitting of her reputation as Konoha's Red-hot Habanero—especially since they still spoke about it.
"We'll all end up takin' the exams together and make our own legends," Toboe threw in idly, eyes narrowed in focus as he nudged a cut of pork along the grill top, waiting until the moment it was cooked to perfection before snatching it up.
Namie shrugged, waiting for Toboe to move his chopsticks away from the grill so she could have her turn. "That might be true for you, Inuzuka."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He turned his squinted eyes towards her, moving his hand away from the grill, and the moment he did, her own chopsticks shot out to seize the pork piece he'd been coveting.
She chewed the food with a grin before sending a smug look his way, eyes half-lidded and lips set in a smirk, reaching for a fiery reaction. "What, you didn't know? I'm in this exam. I'm going to the semi-finals."
The russet-haired boy's eyes widened in shock and his lips opened, as if he were about to speak, but he gnashed his teeth together and scowled, looking as if he'd swallowed something bitter and burnt.
Suzume stirred, prodding the blonde aside as she leaned just a bit too far into her very limited personal space. "Congratulations, Namie-chan." She was the only one to speak—the others all shared a glance and seemed to be grappling for words as an uncomfortable cloud of silence settled over them.
"Ah, thanks…" The Inuzuka's underwhelming response didn't align with her expectations. It was almost as if she'd said something she shouldn't have, really, and she subconsciously drew back and pushed the vegetable remnants on her plate around with the end of her chopsticks, falling silent. Maybe that was something that would have gone better unspoken.
Suzume's hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her silence.
"Gotta go to the toilet," Toboe grumbled out. "Move it, Strawhead."
"Right, sure." Namie moved to her feet and Suzume soon followed, then Toboe pushed past them without a word.
Namie watched the boy as he stomped down the aisle between tables, hands clenched and shoulders squared. She didn't speak until he disappeared around the corner. "What's his deal?" She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, irked by his surly behavior. "Did I say something?"
Suzume watched the direction Toboe went and sighed quietly. "It wasn't you."
"You know how that guy is." Genma crossed his arms behind his head as he spoke. "He has this big idea that he'll finally be able to fight you for real in the chūnin exams, but, well, he can't exactly do that if you're taking this one."
"That's the dumbest—I might not even pass. Then, I could take another with you guys, and he can—"
Suzume shook her head slightly as she sat back down. "Saying that is a little irresponsible. You are going to the semi-finals."
Namie's thoughts flitted to the two Uchiha and Nara Miho and the looming obstacles they represented. Her denial wasn't for show. "N-no way, Suzu-chan, that's…"
"True?" Toriichi added from his corner.
"Well…"
Raidou sighed. "If any of us would become a chūnin first it's you, Namie. You've got the experience."
"But—"
"False modesty doesn't suit you," Aoba hummed, though his words weren't entirely admonishing. "But you better do damn well when we come see your match."
"I don't intend to do anything less." She sent another glance where Toboe had walked off before sitting down next to Suzume with a frown.
Minutes passed and he didn't come back.
Namie hadn't taken another bite since then, too preoccupied with his behavior, as well as the sudden opportunity she'd run into.
Toboe could still help her with genjutsu. If he stopped being so pigheaded about everything.
She pushed herself up from the table with the half-assed excuse of going after Toboe since he ditched them without paying his share of the bill.
Toboe loitered just outside of the restaurant, hands shoved deep in his pockets and expression set in a moody scowl as he paced irritably, as if weighing the options of going back to their table or just leaving altogether.
"Hey," Namie called out tonelessly, "thought you fell in the toilet or something. What's your deal, Inuzuka?" Despite knowing the answer, she wanted to hear it directly from him before approaching with her request.
"Nothing. Buzz off." He ripped one of his hands from his pockets and swished it at her to shoo her off like a stray alley cat, narrowing his eyes but not quite meeting her gaze. Then, finally coming to a decision, he turned and stalked away from her.
She scoffed as she caught up with his retreat and kept pace with him.
"Are you really that upset…?"
He stopped—so suddenly she nearly walked right past him as he dug his feet into the ground and squared his shoulders, pouting.
"Whaddya want, Strawhead?"
"To know why you're so pissy, obviously." She crossed her arms and her eyebrows scrunched together as she examined his expression. "Is it really because I'm taking the chūnin exam?" Her tone softened—even though she took nothing but enjoyment from pushing his buttons and arguing with him, she knew her bounds.
The russet-haired boy let out something akin to a growl and kicked at the dirt in frustration. "Yeah! It is, okay? I just—I just…" he paused, scrambling for the proper words to convey his annoyance. And, just like that, his mood deflated—his shoulders slumped and he heaved a sigh. "I feel like you're always leaving me behind, Strawhead. I try so damn hard, but you're always pulling ahead, and we never get a proper chance to fight each other, but I thought—I thought we'd finally get to in the exams. But now you're ahead again. Always a step ahead."
Namie stood in silence, stunned by his straightforward outburst. It wasn't often—if ever—that he shared his feelings on their rivalry and she couldn't deny that she was a bit touched by it. Once, some time ago, she would've laughed and scorned the scruffy kid for his words, but now…she felt guilty. Not for being better than him, but because she hadn't taken his ability seriously, nor his devotion to their rivalry, because she'd only viewed it as a game.
"…So? Keep trying, then. If you give up, I'll just keep on getting farther ahead."
Toboe's teeth clicked together as he shut his mouth and stared, stunned. Then, a familiar scowl pulled at his lips. "Easy for you to say."
The blonde sighed. "Look, you have your strengths and I have mine—even if we never get to fight each other, we at least have that. And—one of your strengths is my biggest weakness, so…"
"The heck are you saying? Stop talkin' like a moron," Toboe groused, crossing his arms.
"I need your help again. With genjutsu. I might have to fight against an Uchiha in the semi-finals."
He stared.
Blinked.
Stared some more.
"Say something, idiot."
His dour mood vanished and a self-satisfied smirk rose to his lips as he brushed a hand through his hair in a humorous attempt at confidence since he was so obviously well-qualified to help out the less talented. "Well, why didn't you say so sooner, Strawhead?"
Lessons with Toboe and his team did help—but it took longer than Namie had hoped to reach the point where she was even remotely confident in her abilities against an Uchiha. Two days remained until Stage Three.
And she wasn't any closer to figuring out a plan for fighting against Nara Miho, not since her original one fell through just from seeing the girl fight against Yuuka's team. She moved fast. Too fast. There was no way Namie could do anything if she was caught up in a shadow's hold before she'd even gotten the chance to attack, and that thought alone caused a certain desperation to seize her.
She didn't want to lose—not here, not now.
She'd gone to Minato for advice—though he hadn't exactly fought the technique and could only suggest she ask the jounin Nara Shikaku for consultation since they were well acquainted. Though he did warn that that might not be the best of plans since one of his clan was to be her opponent. Clan families always prided themselves on having skilled shinobi among their ranks and it wasn't likely she'd receive the help she desired there when her having the upper hand would only work against that.
Her only option was to seek someone who'd faced the technique and knew how it worked in combat. But that list was very limited—really, there was only one name that came to mind.
Uchiha Kyouya.
The former teammate to two of her potential opponents. It was unlikely he would help her, even if she wasn't asking for help against any Uchiha. Not to mention he hadn't exactly beaten it.
But he was her last resort.
Namie headed towards the Uchiha compound at a brisk pace, sidestepping pedestrians and shoppers on the main street when they wouldn't move out of her way, but refused to slow down because there wasn't time—there just wasn't time. She wasn't even sure just how she'd get into the guarded neighborhood and could only hope that they were lax on monitoring visitors that day. Then, worst of all, finding the chūnin teenager would be painstakingly difficult.
"Namie-senpai! Hey! Do you wanna train with me?"
The call nearly went right over her head as she sped by, but a familiar flash of navy and orange caught her eye and she stopped, turned to spare the boy a few brief, biting words. "Not now, Obito. I'm busy."
The words weren't meant to come off as clipped and cold as they did, and she realized just how harsh they were when the young Uchiha's face tensed as if he'd been slapped and the joy of seeing her drained right from his face.
She didn't have time for this. She averted her eyes and shook her head, continuing on.
Took one step.
Two.
Felt a surge of guilt as soon as she took a third step and quickly turned on her heel to go back to the boy. He looked up meekly when she stopped in front of him, and studied her face with a hesitant frown, clearly hurt by the rejection from someone he considered a friend and senior who'd offered to help him whenever he asked.
"Sorry," Namie muttered out, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm just kind of stressed right now with the exam."
"Exam?" Obito asked slowly, still recovering from the girl's previous behavior and walking on eggshells so he wouldn't be snapped at again. But when the realization clicked in his mind, his usual pep returned full force and his drooping shoulders rose as he brought his fists up in front of his chest excitedly. "The chūnin exam? You're taking it, Namie-senpai?"
"I am."
"No way! Can I come see your final match? Huh, huh? Can I?"
Namie couldn't help but grin, feeling the stress melt away just from listening to the upbeat boy. "You don't have to ask, you know. It's a public event."
"I—I know," he stammered, glancing away and shifting the goggles on his head. Then, a grin crossed his face. "You're gonna be a chūnin soon, though. That's so cool, Namie-senpai! I can't wait to tell Rin." His eyes sparkled at the prospect of being friends with a ranked shinobi and bragging about it.
One eyebrow quirked up as his eyes wandered to the distance and he went quiet, mulling something over as his thoughts ran wild. "Hey," he started slowly, "do you think you'll be a jounin by the time I graduate and—"
"No!" She held up her hands and waved them frantically, shaking her head. "I mean—don't go getting ideas. I might not even become a chūnin yet, okay?" That wasn't her place. Being the boy's senpai was enough. She watched him with a slight smile as he grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. Then—it hit her.
He was her ticket into the Uchiha district. Not to mention Kyouya's direct relative. If he couldn't help her find the boy, no one could.
"…I'll help you train today, Obito. But there's something I have to do first. You're Kyouya's cousin, right?"
Obito gave a nod. "Yeah. Why?"
A bright, sly smile crossed her face. "Show me where he lives."
Namie put on her fakest, most irritating grin when they arrived at Uchiha Kyouya's home—which happened to be only two doors down from Obito's own—and said boy answered the door with a far from enthusiastic, dreadful expression that revealed just how pleased he was to be seeing his two least favorite people in the district.
"No," was the only word he spared them before slamming the door shut in their faces.
Obito squawked indignantly as he took a step back from the sharp noise, whereas the blonde beside him merely heaved a sigh before lifting her arm and knocking again, loudly, knowing he was still just on the other side.
"Come on," she grumbled, "I know we don't exactly know each other, but you kind of owe me after that stunt you pulled, Kyouya-san." She forced the honorific. "And I'm sure Obito would just love to hang out with his dearest cousin right now, too."
The child snapped his head towards the genin to protest, after being promised a training session with the blonde herself, yet thought better of speaking when she shot him a look and gave a slight shake of her head. He gave a shrug and set his hands behind his head before glancing off somewhere else along the road with a bored frown, not particularly interested in their business since it only pushed back training.
"I don't care." Kyouya's muffled voice came through the wood that stood between them. Then, putting his pettiness aside, he opened the door a sliver and peered out at them with no small amount of disdain. "I won't be telling you anything that would give you an advantage against my teammates in the exam."
Namie rolled her eyes. Of course he thought that's what this would be about. She drummed her fingers against her legs before curling them into the hem of her long winter shirt. "It's not about them. It's about Nara Miho." The name would catch his attention, certainly—and it did.
The door opened wide and the tall boy stood before them once again, expression unreadable.
"That girl…of course." When he spoke, his features took on a troubled—and embittered—air. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway and reached up to fidget with his bangs, no longer held away from his eyes by his forehead protector since he wasn't in his shinobi gear. It was probably a habit—something he did when he was deep in thought. A certain broodiness familiar to the clan fell across his features as he mulled over the young genin's request. "Then you know what happened?"
"The gist of it."
"Good. I know a little, too—she wants to fight you this time."
Namie nodded a bit stiffly, still unsure if he would even provide any help. Maybe he was only stringing her along, humoring her. He had a bad personality like that, she'd come to notice.
"And I'm guessing you've come here for help."
"That's it, pretty much." She nearly told him he was her last hope, but thought better of it and held her tongue. No need to look desperate, even if she was.
"You do realize I lost?" Oh, but he already knew. There was an all-knowing lilt to his tone that revealed he was all too aware of her situation simply because she'd shown up at his, a virtual stranger's, doorstep. His smug grin fell when the blonde shot him a fierce frown and he huffed out an annoyed breath. "Look, kid, I don't know what you want me to tell you. There's not much. If you were an Uchiha, maybe, maybe, you could try copying the technique and using it against her, cancelling the two out somehow, but—you aren't."
Namie stayed quiet for a few moments, observing the boy, or rather, staring a hole into the spot just above his left shoulder as she tried to formulate a question. "She…she moves fast. But—and I'm only assuming here—your match didn't end in an instant, did it? You two actually fought."
"We did—for a while, anyway. It was all over in about a minute. I can't remember much." He gave a one-armed shrug and aimed a mild scowl in Obito's direction, though the boy's back was turned and he didn't see. Namie figured he would have aimed the glare at her if she'd been the only one present.
"How did you keep her from catching you immediately?" she asked.
Kyouya's eyes returned to the short girl and he observed her carefully. "Because I have a Sharingan."
"Funny; she seemed to believe she'd beaten your Sharingan with a hot pepper bomb." Namie crossed her arms and tilted her head at an angle, watching him dubiously as a faint blush rose to his cheeks as he was caught off-guard.
"Then—it was because she moved first and her first move was to disarm me. She didn't use her shadow jutsu at the start," he ceded honestly, fidgeting with his bangs as an unpleasant frown pulled at his lips. "Like I said, I can't remember much."
Namie pursed her lips and considered the information she was given. "No," she started slowly, shaking her head. "No, that's okay. Thanks for the…help."
"No problem." He muttered the words with a small nod before turning and retreating into his home, glad to be done with them—and slamming the door rather unkindly once again without so much as a farewell.
She sent the door a dirty look before turning her back on it and stalking away, only pausing long enough to thump Obito on the back, prompting him to follow.
Obito's idea of "training" was what Namie imagined she bothered Kushina with when she was years younger. His punches barely stung. His kicks were pathetic—when they even managed to land, and when it was all over and done with, he was on the ground wheezing, barely able to catch his breath. He did need training—and bad. It was no wonder he was considered dead last even for an Uchiha. No, rather, he didn't seem like an Uchiha at all. But that was part of why she was so fond of him.
At least he didn't give up.
"Hey, what are you doing over there? Break time's over," she called out to the dark-haired boy, watching with a raised brow as he crouched down on the ground a ways away, eyes trained keenly on something squirming around in the grass in front of him. Despite his shinobi aspirations, he was a kid after all—just a kid. Distracted by any little thing that caught his attention. He did try, certainly, but his lack of focus was probably his biggest weakness.
She approached him and looked over his shoulder curiously as he reached forward and cupped his hands over what was presumably a bug, trapping it, before tilting his head back and grinning up at her, nose still scuffed with dirt from their half-assed sparring match.
Then, he flung his hands upward and released the insect—right into her face.
Namie stumbled back with a grimace and half-concealed squeak as a grasshopper sprung into the air towards her and landed on her forehead, matting down her bangs with its scratchy, thin legs. Her hands shot out to grab onto the scrambling bug and she balled it tightly between her hands, careful not to squash it and leave a big ugly mess as she regained her bearings and scowled at the child. "What the hell, Obito!?"
He stuck his tongue out and ran a few paces away, putting a safe distance between them. "I'm not an idiot, Namie-senpai. You only agreed to train with me 'cause I showed you where Kyouya lived. Consider that payback!"
"You cheeky little—I'm gonna make you eat this thing!" She shook her hands menacingly at him, feeling the insect rattle around inside. But—she stopped. Stared at her hands that contained the grasshopper in a cave of darkness with no light, only darkness and confusion, and blinked as a realization slowly began to unfurl from the stumped fog in her mind.
The match against Nara Miho would come down to speed, first and foremost—quickest draw wins the match. But…as Kyouya said, keeping her from playing her shadow card on the first move would buy her time—the time she needed to gain a victory.
To do that, she would have to trap the girl.