010 - An eye for an eye (You're doing it wrong)
"Hey, Deadeyes!" Mook #whatever calls from right behind me. "I hear your mom w—"
And then she didn't call anyone anything else, because she was too busy getting up from the floor, and stemming the bleeding from her nose. My fist might've been involved.
I let out a sigh. It's been a couple of weeks, and things have kept escalating. Slowly, because even if they don't look the part, the children aspiring to become killing machines aren't actually stupid, but they're getting more daring. In a way, that might be a good thing.
Sometimes I wish they tried something with an actual chance of working, that they pushed me beyond the breaking point. That would at least make things interesting. Because this 'campaign' isn't making me feel miserable or sad, or even pressured, really. I only grow weary and bored with their shit. Looking at it from this angle, this year has been nothing but trouble.
On the other hand, Karin. That's a hell of a counterargument. Now if only I could manage to get something else than 'Mama wants me to go straight home after school' out of her, that would be grand. I've walked her home everyday, but so far I've had no luck meeting her mysterious mother.
… Maybe I could visit during the weekend? I toyed with that idea last week, but I've been busy catching up with my tutors. Obaa-san still has me practicing with the brush most of the time, but the assigned strokes have grown remarkably complex after my vacation. It feels good to have to actually try, but it's still a horrible time sink.
Onee-chan on the other hand has decided I'm responsible enough to start mixing things for real. Heh, to think it only took f—
My train of thought gets interrupted once we arrive at the classroom and I see what's waiting for us there.
At first, I stare in incomprehension at the flower vase sitting on Karin's table. Then, a faraway memory clicks, just a bit of trivia from another life, about funerary rites in a faraway country and how they might be applied to bullying(1).
My first impulse is to laugh it off. And I don't mean acting like it didn't matter, no. I mean laughing my ass off at the stupid idea, possibly ridicule the idiot who came up with it and question their intelligence as I cackle madly. But then I notice Karin's eyes tearing up, and instead take her hand and guide her to our seats.
There, I move the vase to my own desk and help her sit before taking a seat myself. Deep breath, I don't know why this affected her so much, but I can at least make light of the situation, right? With the swiftness that comes from long hours practicing hand seals, I weave the flowers into a tiara that's promptly put on my head. Then I pocket the vase.
… What? It's a stained glass vase of suspiciously high quality. I have no idea why it was used for this, but I suspect someone is going to answer uncomfortable questions about family heirlooms disappearing from the dining room.
Back to what matters, Karin isn't laughing at my antics, but she doesn't seem to be at the verge of tears anymore and I'll count that as a win. Now the question is what is it that I've missed to get her this upset. Actually, how to go about figuring it out without acting like an insensitive berk is the real question.
"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" … Smooth, brain. You come up with the best lines.
Karin turns away from me, staring into her desk as she's done so often before. "Papa died last night." Four words, spoken so softly a normal person wouldn't have heard them, a blink and even I would've missed them, and yet...
"Karin." Those four words have drained all the cheer from my mood.
"Y… yes?" She looks back up at my words, feeling a seriousness in my tone that I've never used before. But the situation well deserves it.
"I'm going to hug you now, okay?"
"Eh?"
"Hey doormat-chan!" Unfortunately, we're interrupted by Mook #whocares. "I heard someone died! One less mouth to mooch off the village's goodwill, if you ask me!"
I see red.
(1) In Japan, when a student dies, it's customary to leave a flowerpot on their desk. This has been used as part of bullying campaigns in the past, puting the vase on the desk of the victim, as a sort of 'wish you were dead' or 'you're dead to us'... etc. You get the idea.
As it was somewhat inevitable, my shenanigans landed me in the Principal's office. At least Karin didn't get dragged into my trouble. Which is good. Because the Academy is mainly manned by chunin rejects who couldn't aspire to anything else, but… The Principal is a bit different.
At first glance, the man is just old and smarmy-looking, with the sort of presence that's easy to dismiss. Don't let that deceive you though, he served as shinobi before retiring to a cozy desk job, like everyone who is someone in this village did. A condecorated career in the T&I division, to be precise. The sort of guy that'll figure out whether or not you need interrogation just by how you look around, and will pull the intel out of you using only a rubber duck and a basket of figs.
His clan was decimated during the Third War -that's what finally made Grass stop fence-sitting and assist Konoha, by the way- and years later Zetsu kinda hors d'oeuvred most of the survivors before deserting. And now that I mention it, I wonder if there was something more to those apparently unconnected events. Like for example Danzo. While in doubt, always blame Danzo.
But I digress. Case is he comes from a once powerful family and is respected enough by the village at large. He might command little political power nowadays, but more than enough to cling to his position in the Academy like a limpet in spite of any maneuver to remove him from here. The fact that most young-to-middle-aged shinobi in the village grew up with him as an authority figure to respect kinda helps with that. Especially because few shinobi actually survive long enough to grow old.
Why do I know so much about the Principal when I care so little about people? Because, in spite of popular opinion, I can think ahead. A person with my social skills in an environment full of teenagers trained for war? It was never a question of whether I'd end up here or not, just a
matter of when.
Anyway, here I am, standing in front of his desk and trying very hard not to show how uncomfortable this situation makes me feel. There's a chair I could've sat on, an awfully short and uncomfortable-looking chair that screams 'power play'. Or maybe plan 'mindfuckery', you can never be sure with his type. In any case, I'd rather stand, thank you ver much.
Behind me, and close enough I can almost feel his breath at my nape, stands some vaguely random chunin that may or may not be part of the Academy student body.
Yeah… Narutaki-sensei still has a class to teach, so he asked this guy to escort me to the Principal's office. No idea why he's still here though, pretty sure the Principal doesn't need an escort to deal with rowdy kids, prodigious or not. Maybe it's just more mindfuckery. Well, not just mindfuckery. Twenty grand says he'll shiv the fuck out of my liver if I even hint at moving funny.
It's been a good fifteen minutes since I was dragged here and the Principal received a rather biased explanation of the incident. Instead of chewing my head off like decent, upfront figures of authority do, he just told us to wait and focused back on his paperwork.
Seriously, this guy's mindfuckery is the real deal. A quarter of an hour standing here, with a man who can kill me in the blink of an eye standing right behind, while being pointedly ignored by the guy who maybe doesn't have the authority to order me killed but sure is savvy enough to get away with it anyway. I've felt the tension mounting with every tick and tack of the clock. Sweet Akasha, I would kill for a distraction about now.
"With all due respect, sir." The chunin finally cracks, as if answering my prayers. "I already explained the situation, shouldn't we be talking about disciplinary measures? What are we waiting for?"
"That would be me you're waiting for."
I freeze. My brain freezes. My mind freezes and my soul freezes. Because that's Mother's voice and she sounds unamused.
"Ah, Shimada-dono," The smarmy Principal greets uneasily, clearly unhappy about having to do this. "Do you know why you were called here?"
"Not yet, but I hope someone will explain in the next five seconds why I had to leave my home in a hurry to attend, and I quote 'A most pressing incident involving your daughter'."
"Most pressing incident indeed." The man behind me growls. "Your daughter attacked another student unprovoked, in front of the whole class. We still haven't heard anything approaching an explanation from her. Or any hint of regret, while we're at it."
"And why should I bother?" I shoot back. These thinly veiled attempts at railroading me are starting to get annoying. "It would be my word against the whole class. Why don't you look underneath the underneath like a good shinobi is supposed to do, and stop justifying your heavy-handed incompetence on obviously biased reports?"
Mother arches a brow at my choice of words, and I have to suppress a wince. 'Look underneath the underneath' is a favorite quote of a certain Leaf shinobi, one Mother might've dealt with personally but I sure as hell haven't. She doesn't say anything though, focusing back on the Principal. Crisis averted. I'll think about this again never. Thank you very much.
"I think that'll be detention for the remainder of the semester, Simada-kun." He announces, before pausing for a moment to eye Mother with an indecipherable expression. "Plus any measure Shimada-dono deems appropriate."
I… feel strangely okay with this verdict? I mean, fair is fair and I'm the first to agree that actions should have consequences. I lost my cool and did something someone will regret, so it would feel wrong to just walk away unscathed. You could say the punishment is even in my favor, depending on what Mother 'deems appropriate'.
Sure, I lost pretty much any personal freedom for the foreseeable future with that punishment. Sure, training sessions at home will probably become something gruesome. But the idiot who so unpleasantly laughed at Karin's plight will be wearing an eyepatch the rest of her life.
You don't mess with my friends, bitch.
"That's all?" The chunin jumps in indignation. "Detention and a slap in the wrist? Excuse me sir, but that's bullshit."
"Oh?" Mother's tone is calm, dangerously calm. Like ten tons of snow in a precarious balance on a mountainside are calm. "Do you believe you can discipline my daughter better than myself?"
"Well, I sure wouldn't leave it at that! How would you feel if I gouged your daughter's eyes out right here, right now, ma'am?" I start to wonder how this person managed to earn the chunin rank. Maybe he's trying some kind of backwards psychology on us, but I'll put money on him just being a suicidal idiot.
The Principal winces, Mother arches a brow, I blink in disbelief. Then there's a popping sound and, for a second, we all stare dumbly at Mother, who is now holding an eyeball on her hand. As she crushes it with a fist, the suicidal idiot finally catches on what just happened and has barely enough time to take a hand to his now empty eyeshocket before collapsing with a howl of pain.
… Wow. Was that [Substitution Jutsu]?
"You threaten a Shimada child in front of her mother and expect to leave unscathed?" Mother asks with the calm voice of one so far past rage it comes right out the other side. "That was a warning, you will do well to remember I can do way worse."
"Mother?" I whisper while the idiot rushes out the room, presumably towards the Nurse's Office. "Wasn't that Great-Grandfather's jutsu?"
"Shimada Forbidden Scroll, you'll learn when you're older" She whispers back. Then she turns toward the Principal. "Principal? I believe we're done here."
"Yes, yes, of course." The man looks a bit green. For such a seasoned T&I veteran to be so badly shaken… As expected of Mother. "It's been a pleasure to meet you again, Shimada-dono."
"I loathe to tell others how to do their job, but..." She fixes her glasses with a hand, holding the door open so I can leave first. "Is that really the best the Academy can afford?"
"Please forgive him, he's usually more level-headed than that. But the wounded girl is her niece, he didn't take her injury well."
Guh. Everyone has loved ones somewhere don't they? Even the bastards trying to make our lives hell love and are loved by other people. No matter the circumstances, you'll always be the villain in someone else's story.
Well, shit. Now I feel like a jerk.
… Still ripping her other eye if she tries again, tho.
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