After a while, I'd finally calmed down enough to stand and breathe without randomly bursting into laughter. I still couldn't quite kill the slight grin on my face.

Obito had long since left without so much as an excuse; just whirled out of thin air to reappear someplace else, presumably anywhere that wasn't here. I was sad to see him go. It was always a lot more fun to have someone to shamelessly gloat to.

I splashed some water on my face to get rid of the dried tear tracks and attempt to make my cheeks less red. I took a few deep breaths. My reflection stared back at me, black eyes shining, red strands of hair sticking at my temples where they'd gotten wet, and stray drop running down my cheeks. I looked a little more like a proper human being. At least I wasn't maniacally laughing anymore. God knows I could never show that to my teammates.

My heart still pounded though. The high and adrenaline had yet to wear off. I was pumped, ready for anything. Ready for my next fight, and speaking of which I really ought to be getting back because the next match was not one I would tolerate missing.

So I pulled myself together, wiped my face, smoothed down my hoodie, checked my reflection one last time to make sure I really didn't look like a monster, and walked out of the bathroom. Once outside, I had the feeling reality, which for a short time had been put on hold to humor my burst of glee, was flooding around me once again. I blinked, hearing the roar of the crowd, the stomping, the cheers beating in my chest and skull.

It felt like I hadn't left that room in almost a year.

I walked back to the waiting area, which was completely empty. The final two contestants were looking down into the arena from the balcony – a Kiri girl and an Iwa boy. They spared me neither glance nor, seemingly, thought as I went up to the railing, as far from them as I could get, and took in the sight before me.

Itachi and Shisui were already down there. With a pang that more firmly grounded the sense of returning reality into me, I realized that I hadn't had a chance to talk to them before they went on. It would have been nice to wish them good luck, or something . . . but I suppose that would've been a tad awkward. Only one of them could win, and I wasn't about to pick sides.

Outwardly. Inwardly, my money was squarely on Itachi. Too bad I probably couldn't place a wager at this point in time.

I thought about yelling something. An encouragement, a 'do your best' or something cheesy like that (Shisui, at least, would appreciate it). In fact, I almost did, drawing the necessary breath, before I saw how focused the two of them were and thought better of breaking their concentration. They didn't look like they had any attention to spare for anyone or anything but each other.

I settled down with my mouth shut, my arms crossed and my lips still bearing the remains of a grin, to watch the show.

The crowd was hyped up. Everyone was looking forward to this match. Two Uchiha kids? Two pairs of Sharingan, facing off against each other? The hype (and bets) must be off the charts.

"Second round, second match: Uchiha Itachi, versus Uchiha Shisui." The proctor looked to each in turn. "Are you ready?"

Itachi nodded. I couldn't see his expression from up here, but I thought it must be very serious. Shisui wasn't slouching, did not give off that carefree atmosphere he usually had. Both were dead serious.

My eyes narrowed, and my smile finally slipped off. My Sharingan whirled to life. The proctor yelled 'begin!' And I watched the match with hawk-like eyes.

I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing.

I clutched the railing so hard my knuckles turned white. A faint breeze carrying rain blew my hair back. I took in the sight in the arena. I snapped my jaw shut with a click and swallowed.

Itachi was on the ground. Shisui was on him, one knee on his chest, a kunai at his throat. A few seconds passed, tense, as if sluggishly crawling in the haze of hovering dust and air charged with electricity. A storm was brewing.

The crowd roared. Time snapped like an elastic band. Shisui removed the kunai, stood up, and extended a hand. Itachi took it without hesitation and got to his feet.

Shisui faced the crowd, and the proctor raised his fist in the air.

"Winner, Uchiha Shisui!"

Now, tell me what was wrong with this picture.

The first five minutes they'd just stared at each other, standing rock still in the wrecked arena while the crowd booed and I looked on with my Sharingan, watching the fluctuations in their chakra as each of them vied for dominance in the other's mind. It was a silent, unseen battle between two Sharingan user, and it ended as abruptly as it begun. The battle started in earnest.

They'd traded a quick bout of taijutsu, then switched to ninjutsu when nothing came of that; close up, they were too evenly matched. Itachi pulled out all the stops, with giant shuriken, Fire style jutsu, tricks and feats that showcased just how much he'd improved in a month's time. It was thrilling to watch. He'd mastered the Shadow Clone Jutsu somewhere down the line. But as much as he'd gotten better, Shisui suddenly seemed miles ahead.

He matched each of Itachi's kunai and shuriken with his own; deflected each jutsu; flitted away from each blow; he'd gotten hit more than once, and for some time it was touch and go, but Shisui ultimately took the lead and caught Itachi off guard using a combination of kunai with wires, a smoke bomb, and that god-like speed he'd spent years developing that until now I had never truly seen in action.

For the entirety of the lead up to the battle, and for the entirety of the battle itself, I had been convinced Itachi would come out on top. That was simply my default assumption whenever he went into any fight, really, and I had always supposed that, despite Shisui being older, Itachi was clearly the better ninja. He was a stated genius, a prodigy, one of the most powerful characters in the show. Naturally, I had every confidence he would win.

I had been wrong.

They weren't that far apart in skill. It was plainly evident. But Shisui had taken the lead, somehow, somewhen. In the month since we'd separated? Or even before? Had I really been paying attention? Not really, come to think of it. Had I ever seen them seriously go at it, not just a playful sparring match? I suddenly doubted everything. Perhaps I had only been seeing what I wanted to see.

It had been an impressive battle nonetheless. With the skills they'd displayed, my belief that they would both make chuunin, at least, was not contradicted.

Shisui looked up and saw me on the balcony. He waved as they walked back to the arena's entrance. I waved back, a little slowly, the shock slowly fading and leaving me bemused and a little bewildered. But then, I remembered what that meant, and a small grin worked its way up to my lips.

This meant I would be facing Shisui. And that was cause for excitement.

The next match would be starting in a bit (after a short intermission), but I didn't really care about that right now, even though I would (hopefully, certainly) be fighting the winner. Hey, even if it was Shisui I was fighting, I had every intention of winning.

"Congrats," I said as the boys joined me on the balcony. They were a little beat up, bruises, scraps and the like, but nothing serious. "That was a hell of a match."

Shisui smiled a little bashfully. "Thanks. 'Tachi really gave me a run for my money down there. Didn't you?" He clapped Itachi on the shoulder. "Better luck next time, right?"

Itachi's eyes crinkled. "Yes. Next time, for sure."

"Your genjutsu's really gotten better. I think it was a tie."

"Not good enough, not yet. There's still so much I need to work on." He smiled a little ruefully.

"You'll get better. We'll all get better." Shisui stretched and his hands came down on Itachi and mine's heads. I was suddenly struck by how big they were. "Together. Right?

Neither of us answered, but it didn't seem like Shisui needed us to. His conviction was strong. He was determined to make the future he wanted happen. It made me just a little melancholy, and just a little irrationally angry at how stupid that thought was.

'Things change. Soon, we won't be little kids anymore. Look, you're already starting to race ahead. In size and in skill. Slowly getting further and further . . .'

But I couldn't say that.

"By the way, Tomoe-chan," Shisui turned to me. "How did you do that? In your fight."

"Do what? Oh, that."

"Have you been working on genjutsu?"

"Hah, no," I snorted. "I didn't use that. I don't think I'll ever get the hang of genjutsu. Nah, I drugged him." Might as well come out with it. I didn't have an excuse handy and felt too tired to think up another lie on the spot. A first for me. Actually, I was feeling rather exhausted all of a sudden.

"You . . . drugged him?" Itachi frowned. "With what?"

"A hallucinogenic. He'll be perfectly fine. He'll see crazy stuff for a while, sleep it off and be good as new. It's fairly harmless, really." Now that was, well, sort of a lie? But close enough to the truth.

And yet, Itachi still seemed doubtful. He ever so slightly raised an eyebrow.

"Really," I insisted.

Itachi did not say anything. I could tell he still doubted me though. Just a tad.

The next match started in short order. I waited impatiently for it to end, but it took a while and that made me frustrated. I wanted to get on with it already. I wanted to fight Shisui!

I found myself fantasizing about what would happen during the match. What moves would he use? How would I counter? I pictured myself kicking his ass and coming out on top, v for victory, crowd roaring, the whole shebang. How thrilling that would be! He'd be glad about it too. He'd be glad to see me progress, wouldn't he? Shisui would grin and say 'well done,' and hold his hand out to me. And Itachi would be proud. I'll bet he'd smile for me. Kakashi, too, he'd be watching of course, and pat my head. Minato was here. Kushina would hear about it.

That's what I wanted. I wanted to fight Shisui, with everything both of us had. And not just for the satisfaction of beating him. I had a feeling I might get something far more intangible, external to myself if I did. Some form of recognition by the people surrounding me. Some form of . . . connection?

In my musings, I hadn't paid attention to the match at all. I was snapped out of my reverie by the roar of the crowd and focused my eyes to see the Kiri girl, bloodstained, dirt all over her, and a determine shine to her eyes raising her fist to the crowd.

"Winner, Komoya Kasumi!"

"She was really good," Itachi said. "Her Water Style was powerful. She didn't waste too much chakra, either."

Shisui nodded, face unusually serious. "Whoever fights her next will have a tough time of it."

"It should be either you or Tomoe, right? Since the third round has only three people, she goes straight to the final match."

"Lucky her," I mumbled, watching the girl make her way back. The arena was entirely covered with mud. There was an impromptu river where a dip in the ground had been. Powerful Water Style indeed.

"Shall we go?" Shisui clapped my on the shoulder. Startled, I yelped, and glared up at him.

"I'm not holding back. And you better not either."

He smiled, a little sadly, a little gently, so that I couldn't tell what he was thinking. His hand moved to the top of my head. It moved, softer than a rub, harder than a pat.

"Relax. We're friends."

With that, he left the room. I had absolutely no idea what he meant by that.

"Better hurry," Itachi said. "He'll get ahead of you."

I turned to him. "Say, Itachi?"

"Hum?"

"What was it like, fighting him? Do you feel like you both went all out?"

Itachi thought for a second, turning slightly away from me and towards the arena. "Actually . . . If I had to guess, I'd say he was holding back a little. He's gotten really strong. I think he knows that." He quickly turned back to me, and smiled, rubbing the back of his head. "It's frustrating in a way, but it only made me realize all over again how far I am. I've got a long way to go."

"I see . . ."

"You'd better go. Do your best, okay Tomoe?"

"Yeah . . ." I nodded. "Uhm. Yeah, I will."

And so I followed after Shisui.

My feet squelched in the mud. I silently praised my past self for choosing to wear boots. A faint drizzle came down as we took our spots, facing each other with the proctor in the middle. Overhead, a faint flash of lightning, followed a few seconds later by the growl of thunder, charged the air with a cloying tension that weaved around my ribcage and into my heart, over the fabric of my clothes and down my throat, into my lungs when I took a breath.

Shisui was relaxed, but not off guard; just alert enough to be ready to react without reaching the level of tension that might paralyze him. I took in every detail; the high collar of his black shirt, ripped a little and the cut on his chin that resulted from the blow; a bead of sweat rolling down his temple; his scuffed shoes, still in the mud; his hands, by his sides, ready to move with stunning speed.

I looked dead into his eyes, and found I couldn't read them. His face was blank.

Suddenly a slight smile tugged at his lips, as if he was remembering that it was just me facing him, just a friend, and there was no need to be so serious. It spread to his eyes, which gained a barely noticeable heat. He spread his stance and cracked his fingers.

'Ready when you are,' I felt him saying.

I stood dead still.

I barely heard the proctor announce the beginning.

Before I knew it I had my sword in hand and clashed with Shisui's tanto. The shrill grating of steel edges sung as we sprung apart, circled, moved in again. There was no need for a genjutsu battle. I wouldn't let myself be caught, and he knew that.

We traded strikes, moving around each other, faster than ever before. The air was garnished with the ring of clashing blades. He was faster, stronger, more skilled than previously; a month apart made that plainly apparent. But so was I.

In this alone, we were matched.

Suddenly he sprang back. He saw his hands move, the chakra swirl to his throat, and dodged a huge fireball back by shuriken. He was on me, having predicted where I'd move, but I swerved, avoided his blow, and kicked him squarely across the ribs. He slid in the mud, but kept his stance.

He grinned at me.

"You're good." He said simply.

"So are you." I pointed my sword towards him.

He hopped a little to loosen up his stance, twisted his neck a bit.

"Warmup's over?" he suggested.

"If you're ready."

"Then let's go."

We went back at it. The intensity shot up with the weight of the blows and the intent behind them; neither of us could disengage, neither could gain the advantage. But while we were moving all about the terrain, jumping over rocks, slashing in the mud and increasing rain, running around shooting fire jutsu and kunai and shuriken and tripping each other up with wired projectiles, each of us giving all we had, I was having the time of my life. Because, while this was different in scale from our practice skirmishes back at the cliff overlooking the river, I had the swelling feeling that I was right at home.

We parted, danced around each other. I jumped towards him, and sliced upward at his shin. I slipped slightly, mistimed something, somewhere, and lost my balance. I lost track of where I was looking. Shisui dodged and suddenly wasn't there anymore.

I couldn't turn around in time. A massive kick sent me flying, straight out, and I slammed into the wall shoulder first. Pain shot through my arm. My sword was gone. The rain battered down, and I realized I was soaked to the bone.

And then I looked up through the strands of wet, red hair that clung to my cheeks and got in my eyes, to see Shisui rushing towards me.

I didn't have time to get up. I was unarmed, still stunned, and lying on my kunai pouch. I thought my arm might be dislocated. I was reacting, too slowly, not fast enough to avoid the incoming tanto strike aimed straight for . . .

Time stopped. Shisui froze in his tracks, weapon geared for a blow that might have been fatal; I saw a flash of surprise, slight shock, and finally indecision in his eyes. He wasn't moving. For the slightest second, Shisui hesitated. He slowed down, noticeably, as if . . .

Wait, was he waiting for me to get up?

'Actually . . . If I had to guess, I'd say he was holding back a little.'

Was he . . . going easy on me?

'He's gotten really strong.'

Was he actually . . .

Time jolted back into rhythm. I sprang up and knocked the tanto aside; there was hardly any force behind it. Shisui took a few steps back and widened his stance, preparing to meet my next assault. Pain throbbed in my arm. Something hot welled up inside me, thick and choking, drowning my lungs and invading my throat, so hot the rain seemed a faraway dream.

Chakra spun in my stomach, faster than ever before. I was so angry I couldn't speak. I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood.

Shisui was going easy on me. Shisui, my teammate and friend, my training partner, my rival, someone I grudgingly respected and was sure respected me.

Did not see me as enough of an equal to go all out against.

I was shocked; humiliated; and absolutely enraged. My vision whited out. I molded more and more chakra, running it down into the soil around me, making it vibrate, faster and faster . . .

Lightning flashed close by. Wind whipped all around us, raising my hair into a blood-red halo. I couldn't hear the thunder. I couldn't hear anything save for the blood rushing in my ears as I screamed

"SHISUI!"

He must have noticed something was wrong because he sprang far back. I took one step away from the wall, then another, and another, continuously pumping chakra into the ground.

It was a stupid thing to do, and somewhere deep inside I knew it. I'd only pulled this off one time; Kakashi didn't even know about it, and he'd told me not to use Lightning Style during the tournament. I didn't have enough control over it yet. But I was so angry I couldn't think straight; all I wanted to do was the flashiest, most destructive thing I could think off because the rage and humiliation at being looked down on by my best friend would be too much to bear otherwise.

The chakra in the ground reached its peak; the storm was overhead. The clouds in my mind wouldn't dissipate.

'Look down on this,' was my only clear thought.

Lightning crashed to the ground.

The flash blinded me for a second; the bolt had fallen midway between Shisui and me, but unlike him, I had been fully prepared for it. The electrified air smelled of ozone. My body tingled. He was stunned, arm thrown over his eyes.

I leapt over the hollowed earth and the scorch mark spewing steam, and punched him with all I had. He fell and I was on him in a second, good hand slamming down into his forehead and the other holding a hastily drawn kunai to his throat.

It was a poisoned one.

I stared directly into his eyes. Something in mine must have made him pause; genjutsu or no, one change in pressure and his jugular would be sliced open. He didn't use his Sharingan. His eyes faded to black.

The proctor appeared, and took in the situation. It was over.

"Separate." He ordered. And then he raised his voice and proclaimed,

"Winner, Himura Tomoe!"

Back inside the building, I grabbed Shisui by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

"What the hell was that?" I snarled. "What the HELL WAS THAT?"

Shisui clutched my hand where it twisted the fabric of his collar and gritted his teeth, a pained look in his eyes.

"I just . . ." his voice faded and he averted his face.

"You just what? What the hell did you think you were doing? Do you think I'm that weak? DO YOU?!"

"I don't!" he yelled back. "That's not it!"

"Then what the fuck is it?!"

"Tomoe! Shisui!"

Itachi came running down the hall, closely followed by Kakashi.

I dropped my head, my voiced falling to a harsh whisper. "You slowed down. You let me get back up. You could have ended it right there. It was your victory."

"If I hadn't, that strike would have gone through your heart. I would have killed you. I didn't want that!"

"Bullshit. You could have stopped. You're good enough for that. You could have stopped. You didn't have to back off." My fist tightened. "Were you going easy on me the whole time? Did you not think I'm worth going all out? Do you look down on me that much?"

"Tomoe-chan, knock it off, that's not true and you know it! You're not thinking straight!" He started to struggle against my hold. "Tomoe-chan! I don't look down on you, I never did and I never will . . ."

"Then why the hell did you let me win?!" I roared.

There was silence for a moment. He didn't look back at me. Either he felt nothing he could say would get through or he just didn't have any more excuses.

"Alright, that's enough! Tomoe, let him go!"

Kakashi moved behind me and grabbed my wrist and my shoulder. He hit a pressure point, my hand went slack, and he jerked me back. Shisui staggered forward and coughed. Itachi immediately went up to him and patted his back. Kakashi held me back with a vice-like grip on my good shoulder.

Shisui looked up at me finally, and there was hurt in his eyes. I was still so angry, so angry I wanted to scream and hit him even more; show him I wasn't weak, wasn't to be looked down upon, I could kill him anytime I wanted, who did he think I was, just a little cut a little drop a little capsule and he'd be down on the ground squirming like a worm, like an insect oh I was so much better than him, so much stronger and he didn't even know it. I wasn't . . . I wasn't . . .

I was not beneath him.

"Tomoe!" Kakashi's voice cracked like a whip. "Get ahold of yourself!"

I snapped back to myself. My eyes went wide, the pain in my shoulder came back, and I stared at Shisui, feeling a sudden rush of something inexplicably resembling horror at my own thoughts. I hadn't felt this way in years, in so long the memory of the last time it had happened was deeply buried and I was desperate to have it stay covered.

I couldn't stay here. I couldn't look at him. At either of them, staring at me like that, in a way I suddenly couldn't parse because I was severed from anything that might have resembled empathy and their faces looked completely alien.

Kakashi nudged me.

"You've got another fight. Come on, we need to fix your shoulder."

I bit my lip and shrugged him off. With a last look towards Shisui, I stormed off.

"Wait, Tomoe-chan! TOMOE!" he called after me, but I heard Itachi stop him. I just couldn't face him right now.

Kakashi guided me to the infirmary. I sat on the cot while a medical ninja looked me over.

"We're going to have to pull your shoulder back. It's dislocated."

Thought so.

He stared at me frankly. "This is going to hurt."

It did. I screamed.

Afterwards I lay down, recovering. I had one arm over my eyes to block out the blinding light, god, why did everything have to be so white in here? And the smell of antiseptic, that overly sanitized hospital stench hiding blood and more disgusting things was reminding me of times I didn't want to remember. Memories of sitting on a stool and watching life slip away while feeling nothing at all.

God, I hated hospitals. So much. How had I never realized how much? The answer was simple, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. Deception was a cruel game.

There was another pause before the final match, to hype up the crowd or some bullshit like that. I felt sick at the thought of going out there again.

What did I have to prove, anyway? Why should I subject myself to this for the amusement of anyone but myself? It's not like they thought I could actually win. They were probably whispering right now about how weak I really was, how I had won by a fluke, a freak act of nature, how I was going to get soooo beaten down, placing bets, profiting off me, looking down on me as if I was sooooo much lower than them all . . .

"Tomoe."

The soft voice felt like an electric shock. Kakashi was back. He'd gone somewhere. I hadn't noticed.

He tapped a can of something cold on my leg as he took a seat. I sat up and took it. It was juice. I just stared at it for a while.

"How's your shoulder?"

It still hurt, dull, throbbing. But it didn't bother me so much. It wasn't my dominant side.

I cracked open the can. "Fine."

"You did that. The lightning bolt."

I nodded shortly.

"That was stupid. You could've gotten hit."

I took a sip. The juice was sickly sweet, and had no flavor.

"You didn't tell me you could do that."

"I did it once. On the plateau. Got the idea from watching the storm."

He sighed, and looked at me with arms crossed. "Why did you get so angry at Shisui?"

I gritted my teeth. But I didn't have the energy to get angry at Kakashi. I just felt empty. "Because," I said, "He let me win."

"I see."

I didn't feel like talking about it. So we sat in silence while I drank the juice, sickening as it was. When I was done, he handed me a few ninja pills. Had to replenish my chakra. I crunched down on them and swallowed without tasting.

"Are you up for the final match?"

Not like I had any choice. And the anger was still there. At Shisui, at everyone and everything around me.

I swung my legs over the side and stood. "I am." I said. And I picked up my bag and strode past him. He didn't follow, and I didn't look back.

It was the final match.

The rain had abated somewhat. I stood in the arena, facing the Kiri girl who was to be my opponent. Something Kasumi, was it? Not like it mattered.

There were speeches made. Minato spoke. Blah blah, pride of our village, blah blah, respect and cooperation, blah blah blah blah blah. No one was here for shitty reasons like that. They were here for the show. To watch kids duking it out, placing beats, and having fun at our expense. Did anyone actually believe all this talk of friendship, of growing closer through the exam? Not one person, but everyone pretended they did. It made me sick.

I was just so sick.

The girl in front of me was serious, mouth tight, hands braced on her umbrella. She was taller than me, and still battered from the previous fight. But her determination seemed strong.

I looked up to the stands. People were roaring, cheering, whistling, stomping their feet. Quite a cacophony. I thought I saw my teammates up there, but I didn't want to think about them right now. To hell with them. To hell with appearing nice, playing pretend. I was just going to do what I wanted now.

Just, whatever the hell I wanted.

"Are you ready?" The proctor's voice boomed out. Kasumi's eyes sharpened; her grip on her umbrella shifted. I didn't move. Not yet. He looked at both of us in turn.

"Begin!"

She made the first move. A barrage of senbon flew towards me. I slashed them out of the air. My Sharingan blazed.

Handsigns. A water jutsu was coming. I jumped aside, avoiding the torrent, and landed on a rock. Water. It was up to her knees. I focused chakra in my feet and stepped on the surface. A few more handsigns. A tendril wrapped itself around my knee.

'Stupid.'

I zapped lightning chakra into the water. Didn't have to do anything else. Basic science.

She either felt it or thought my lack of movement was odd because she leapt out of the water just in time. When she landed on the surface, her chakra covered feet protected her. Her eyes moved back and forth between me and the water.

It occurred to me that she might be a sensor.

I went over my options. Idly, while dodging another string of senbon. She was luring me closer to the wall, and I let her. Fire jutsu was out. Too much water around. Couldn't call down lightning again, that would take too much chakra since the storm was further away now.

Suddenly she switched tactics and sped towards me, umbrella raised. My back hit the wall. I watched her coming. At the last second, she ground to a halt and swung it in a great arc. I blocked with my forearm but went skidding across the water. It was a lot heavier than it looked.

I sprang away, still observing. She paused, before coming after me again. She moved in a straight line. Once she started her strike, she couldn't back out; the momentum carried her along.

I drew some shuriken and some wire. The entire arena was covered in a thick layer of water. But I could see major landmarks; where the ground dipped, where rocks rolled beneath the waves made by our feet.

I could see it all too clearly.

I went on the offensive.

She dodged as I threw the shuriken, one after the other. She tried to get some distance and protect herself using water jutsu. She didn't try to catch me directly with it though. That was far too risky for her.

I kept throwing, lazily. I wasn't running. My eyes darted around the field. Selecting points; making calculations.

She moved around and around the arena, before finally having enough and going on the offensive again. She ran towards me, face set in an expression of deep determination. Her teeth were gritted, and her eyes burned with feverish intensity. The rain had picked up; it was a veritable downpour. She yelled as she charged. She was nearly out of chakra.

I tugged on the right string. A wire flashed out from beneath the water. She tripped and fell face first. Her umbrella sunk down. She got to her feet as fast as possible, forced to leave her weapon behind.

Sadly, she was too slow.

A burst of chakra, a handsign, and I was behind her. My sword flashed.

I couldn't feel anything at all.

The point slid into her neck and came out the other side, angled up. Raindrops slid down, mingled with blood, and dripped down her throat. Her mouth gaped, with a sound like she was choking.

I twisted the handle and slashed sideways. The blade cleared her flesh, followed by a gush of blood. It burst out, flew into the air like a fountain.

Kasumi fell forward. She sunk into the water. Blood clouded around her, dark and thick and mingling with the mud. She disappeared.

The water receded, slowly, as life flowed out of her. My feet met solid ground. I turned to the audience, towards where the Kage watched, and stared forward. Everyone's eyes were on me. The arena was dead silent.

I raised my bloody sword, one second, two, then whipped it down, clearing the blood in one smooth stroke into a clean arc on the ground.

The crowd exploded. I thought I would go deaf for a moment. The arena seemed to shake, and the proctor ran out to check on the body.

I felt eyes on me, but I couldn't tell where they came from. At that moment, I didn't care about the emotion behind them, the horror and heartbreak and shock I must have caused. I felt so hollow I thought I might cave in at any moment, crumple into myself and disappear under the pressure of countless faces jeering down on me.

But they weren't. They were cheering. Chanting, even. Respect and vicious joy at the show I had put on, the heartless death they had wanted to see since the beginning that had only now been delivered.

I came back to myself, slowly. The first thing I felt was the vicious, vindictive sweetness of an accomplished revenge. I was not weak. I was not to be looked down on. I could gas every last one of them if I wanted.

And so as the people whistled and stomped and clapped and cheered, the storm passed and the sun came out again, glinting over my sword and the puddles left behind. Blood trickled from behind me. It got on my shoes.

I was fine. I had proven to everyone how dangerous I was, and I could fool myself into believing the cheers were those given to a tyrant who could crush them at any moment, and not the expression of glee over the sick entertainment of a death match. That was alright. I was back to being myself.

I stood in the sun and basked in the cheers of the crowd, and gave not one thought to what lay ahead.

. . . Is anyone still here?

I assure you that this hiatus was not planned out. I did not mean to leave you in the lurch for a year. I don't even have a really convincing excuse for my absence. So, I'm just going to leave this here.

If you want to chew me out, ask questions, or just see what I find interesting, I'm on tumblr as 'the-word-builder.' You'll probably have an easier time contacting me there (I have not been answering my messages on , and I do apologize for that), so if you don't mind the Homestuck art, you should follow me.

Questions, comments, praise, criticism, rants, complaints, requests, random thoughts, reactions on what happened? Leave a review!

Peace out.