Published: 6/27/2017

Edited: 1/13/2018


"What?" I asked, dumbfounded.

A hint of amusement seeped into Susumu's eyes. "An apprenticeship," he repeated. "A one-on-one teaching relationship with an established ANBU operative. Upon its completion, you would be offered the chance to officially join ANBU as an independent member. Do you hold interest in such an opportunity?"

For several seconds all words escaped me. An apprenticeship? An apprenticeship in ANBU? Did such a thing even exist?

"The initiative has been in place for the last few years of the war. We have had some success in bolstering ANBU's numbers in this way," Susumu replied without even a hint of jest. "As you must be aware, Konoha is experiencing a severe shortage of manpower. This is true in ANBU as well. You and your teammate are of the right age and background to be ideal candidates."

"Me?" I asked warily. "Not just Akihiko?"

"He is very advanced," Susumu acknowledged. "And he is the reason I spared enough of my attention to observe you in the first place. However, I maintain that you are also an investment potentially worth undertaking. If you decide to pursue an apprenticeship there will be ample time to prepare you for a career in ANBU. We do not officially recruit those under the age of thirteen. You would have at the very least three years to bring yourself to the threshold of skill we are looking for in recruits. The likelihood of being separated from him is minimal."

I continued to regard him warily. Susumu tilted his head at me.

"You two possess excellent teamwork," he informed. "That was the most notable observation I made while monitoring you. It was also the most influential in my decision to extend this offer to you. If I can I would like to have you both join us. It would be a waste to split you up otherwise. The standard of coordination required to run a successful squad in ANBU is quite high. Judging by your current level of synchronization you two are likely to meet that standard. I am confident that my colleagues would agree in my assessment and that great effort would be made not to separate you two."

"You were watching the fight," I said slowly. Dark suspicion fluttered in my gut. "Not just the end. You were there from the beginning."

"I was," Susumu confirmed. "It was a shame I had to step in but from what I saw I believe you would have been able to defeat the other two before long. It bodes well for the both of you as future ANBU—we often have to operate outnumbered. If this was your first proper skirmish, I look forward to seeing your growth under proper guidance. You two have come quite far without a sensei."

His praise fell on deaf ears. I looked up into his dark, unwavering eyes and found not a trace of regret or apology. He had been there—he had seen Akihiko's first kill—and had felt nothing about it. It probably hadn't even occurred to him, I realized, to try and stop it.

For a moment, I stepped out of my skin and pictured it in my head. I would wear the armor and use a hidden headset and speak in the secret sign language unknown to the General Forces. Akihiko and I would run assassinations in the darkness of the night, flitting in and out of existence with soundless shunshins, and never speak a word. We would have masks. No one would ever know us. Our eyes would look just like this man's, devoid of everything but cold, detached determination.

"I couldn't," I said distantly as I watched that soundless, grayscale future roll on in my mind's eye. "No… I could never."

Susumu regarded me impartially. "There is time," he told me, again.

"It wouldn't be enough," I replied. "Not to become like you."

He must have understood my meaning because after a moment he nodded in acceptance. "I understand," he murmured and uncrossed his arms. "This life is not for everyone. Being a shinobi is also being aware of one's own nature…" A beat passed as he eyed me without speaking. Then he said, "Then it's no matter. I suspect you will be of use to Konoha wherever you are. You'll do just as well in the General Forces as you would have with us."

I lowered my eyes and mumbled a thank you. I thought he might leave then but was surprised to have a gloved hand enter my field of vision.

"Thank for your time," he said firmly. "If you ever come to a place where you think you could join us don't hesitate to initiate contact. Ask at the Academy about Special Forces training. I'll leave your name with them; they'll know who you are."

"I… all right." I took his hand and shook it. It was a firm handshake, but not overly so. "Thank you..."

Susumu nodded. And then, like a wisp of flame extinguished by an exhale yawned in the night, his muted presence flickered away into darkness.


Akihiko and I did not speak again until after we had returned to the village. He took the journey back in a different section of the caravan, leaving me to pensively reflect on the mission and all that had happened on it alone. Throughout the whole trip Susumu was nowhere to be seen at all.

I was fine with that state of affairs. He no longer had any business with me. And as for Akihiko, I wouldn't begrudge him a little time and space if it helped him settle himself. I knew by now that he never meant it when he lashed out. He was not a mean person. He was just the sort who would rather be angry than vulnerable.

It was very dark by the time we arrived at the gates. It was even darker still by the time we had registered our reentries, reported to the company commander, and attended the requisite debriefing. Akihiko and I agreed to adjust our team status from active to standby; after this amazing disaster neither of us could see taking another mission without a week's rest at the very least. Then, after we had split ways and everyone had dispersed, I took a quick look around the crowded, lantern-lit street. No one from the House was waiting for me.

That was not entirely unexpected. By my estimation it was about one in the morning; anyone who had been waiting would have surely returned home by now. The mission itinerary had flown out the window weeks ago so my family would have had no reason to expect the date or time of our return. Satisfied that I would not unintentionally pass anyone by, I turned toward home.

Konoha at night was nothing like the cities of Earth at night. It was blacker here than it was there; without the omnipresence of LED lights piercing through the darkness, the night was thicker and more expansive. Rather than the distant whistling of the wind against cars and building corners, the air was filled with the sounds of crickets and cicadas—and frogs, too, because it had rained lately. It was still and solid here. No trains shook the sidewalk; no distant stereos vibrated the air with pulsing bass lines.

I took my time as I looked around in wondering silence. Some evenings were sweaty, or chilly, or creepy, or uninteresting, but this one was a rare kind of serene. Some folk were out and about, eating late dinners or drinking with friends, but by and large it was quiet. The village was the same as it was yesterday, and as it would be tomorrow, too.

This great weight of normalcy made me feel smaller than tall mountains and high canyon walls ever could. Emotional arguments and treacherous alliances and first kills were nothing in the face of such immense mundanity. Whether or not we were being swept away by the war, dying and bloodying ourselves on each others' blades, night would come as always. Darkness would still dim our sights, insects would still sing, and people would still go about drinking, eating, and sleeping. The nighttime didn't know anything about our failures or struggles. Perhaps it never would.


I was being shaken awake by my aunt mere hours after returning. Aching-backed and sore-calved, I blearily opened my eyes and gazed upon her with exhausted incredulity. What in the world could this woman want from me at four-fifteen on a post-mission morning? Was someone sick? Had I been summoned?

"Akihiko-kun is downstairs," she whispered to me over the rhythm of my roommates' syncopated breathing. For a moment I just stared. But she did not lie: a quiet sonata was playing downstairs. Its prominent feature was a phrase that resolved on a major seventh chord.

Drawing myself upwards with Herculean strength, I threw my blanket down on my pillow and shuffled across my foster sisters' futons until I made it to the door. Auntie Reiko wiped her hands on her apron and followed me down the stairs but returned to the kitchen when I went for the door. Holding in a sigh, I reached out and slid it open.

"You're not even dressed!" Akihiko exclaimed upon seeing me in a yellow duck-printed housedress.

"Of course not," I mumbled tiredly and leaned on the doorframe. "I was in bed."

Despite the early hour he was fresh-faced and had all his kit. How that came to be when we had returned and adjusted our duty status less than four hours ago was beyond me.

"Hurry and change!" he said in horror. He took me by the shoulders and forcibly turned me around, presumably to push me back inside. "We're supposed to report at five! We'll be late!"

Report? What in the world for? The Missions Desk wasn't even open at this hour. Peons from the General Forces like us didn't report to anyone this early in the morning.

"What," I exhaled through my nose, "are you talking about?"

"Didn't Susumu tell you?" my friend hissed and dropped his voice. "The Tower at 5 AM sharp! We need to be registered before we can go inside the ANBU Base!"

It took my sleep-addled brain a half a moment longer than usual to process, but it was still only a second or two before I comprehended just what exactly was going on. The situation, I realized, was something like this: Akihiko had accepted Susumu's offer. Susumu had instructed him to report to the Hokage Tower and warned him not to be late. Akihiko, accordingly, had risen at this ungodly hour and had come to fetch me as he often did before assignments. He wanted to walk together, as was our custom.

Conclusion: Akihiko didn't know that I had refused the apprenticeship. I processed the significance of this.

"Suzu?" Akihiko asked as I found myself becoming quite still. All at once I realized that this was finally the end. If Akihiko was going away I would be the only one left. This was it for our ill-fated team.

I exhaled.

"He didn't tell me," I said.

"What?" Akihiko's reaction was one of puzzlement. "That's... really weird. He couldn't have been counting on me to tell you, could he?"

"No, I don't think so." I shook my head and turned back around to face him. "It's probably because I didn't accept the offer."

Akihiko blinked and a beat passed. Then his jaw dropped.

"You… told him no?"

"I told him no," I confirmed. "I can't go with you to the Tower."

Akihiko stared at me. I stared back, unsure of what else to say. Maybe a minute passed like that there on the doorstep at four in the morning, with him in his gear and me in my nightclothes.

"Why?" Akihiko asked.

"I didn't want to do it," I admitted. "I wouldn't be happy there."

"How do you know that?" my teammate demanded. His fingers curled into fists. "How would you know if you would be happy there or not?"

"Because I know," I said and pulled back a bit with a frown. "...I don't have to be in the Special Forces myself to know that wouldn't do well in there. I'm not enough of a fighter for it."

"You're fine at fighting!" Akihiko contradicted heatedly. "Your taijustu was the best in the class after mine. Just because Hayanari got you on the ground doesn't mean you're bad at it. We were working together, and we would have gotten them in the end, anyway—Susumu said so."

His vehement faith in my abilities was endearing despite his anger. Well, maybe he was right. Perhaps we would have defeated the boys from Iwagakure even if we hadn't had help. But what did that mean? Did it make me a good fighter if I could beat some boys in a team brawl? Was I a good fighter if I could stand head and shoulders over students whose instructors hadn't bothered to teach them a thing? I could punch, kick, and stab with competency, it was true. With work perhaps I really could become someone capable running with the ANBU elite. But did that make me a fighter?

"Being proficient in combat doesn't mean you're a good fighter," I finally said. I crossed my arms and looked away as the image of Hayanari's gray face drifted across the still-dark sky. "Some people think too much to be good fighters."

"'Think too much'? What is that supposed to mean?" Akihiko's fingers were curled into white-knuckled fists. "Are you saying that I don't think stuff through or something?"

"No, of course not," I replied irritably as I rubbed a hand across my eyes. They were heavy and stinging with dryness. "Don't put words in my mouth. I'm saying I don't have the right temperament for ANBU work. It's too violent, and I would be too emotionally involved to dissociate myself enough to function efficiently."

"So what does that make me? Cold-hearted? Violence-loving?" Akihiko laughed. It was an angry, high, nervous kind of laugh, one that I should have marked. The cause of his anxiety would have been blatant if I'd bothered to look. What person wouldn't be scared of being viewed as a bloodthirsty by his friend? "As if you would be doing anything different here in the General Forces! Do you think you're so different from me because you've never killed anyone?"

"Having killed someone has nothing to do with it," I snapped back. "Stop trying to making this all about you. I'm not saying this imply there's something wrong with you or ANBU. I'm just trying to explain to you why I felt the need to refuse the apprenticeship."

"Is that what you think? That I'm trying to make this all about me? Do you think I'm that selfish?"

"Well, you're certainly acting like it," I retorted. "You keep taking insult to everything I say."

"If I'm being selfish, you're just the same as I am," he accused. "Aren't we a team? Aren't we supposed to stick together? Or are you just going to walk away and ignore me like you did the whole trip back?"

I gave him an incredulous look. "Ignore you?" I repeated. "Is giving you space so you won't yell at me ignoring you? You were the one who was avoiding me. If you were waiting for me to come and find you, that was dumb."

A look of hurt flickered across Akihiko's face. I blinked, taken aback. He had been waiting? Truly? I hadn't even considered the possibility of it. I thought he wouldn't have wanted me to see him in his moment of weakness. If he needed someone to talk to I had assumed that he would have wanted to do it on his terms, and that he would approach me when he was ready. After all, what had happened when I had gone up to him myself? I'd spooked him and he'd sent me away.

But if he had reached his limit in the wake of that battle and had decided that he wanted help even if it meant showing himself in a vulnerable state, maybe it was possible. Maybe he really had needed me. He was more practical than he was prideful, after all…

"Akihiko…" I began softly, at once regretting my words. I took a step forward.

But the look of hurt was already being overpowered by a burst betrayed anger. "Shut up," he snarled, mortified, and shoved me back. I stumbled over a stray sandal and landed on my behind.

"Maybe this team's better off done anyway!" he shouted into the house, effectively alerting everyone inside that an argument was under way. "I can get along fine without you!"

In a flash I was on my feet and blocking the doorway as best as I was able. "Then what are you doing here?" I hissed, fighting back dread as a familiar chakra signature stirred and began making its way down the stairs. "If you're fine without me why are you so upset I'm not coming with you? That's obviously not true!"

Akihiko's hand shot out and fisted itself in my collar. I grabbed his vest in response. And then we were standing nose to nose and glowering furiously.

"You never cared about this team," Akihiko spat. "I can see that now. Yoshiya died for nothing. Or did he even have a choice?"

The was a beat. Then my palm was flying across his cheek before I even realized I had raised a hand.

"I never asked Yoshiya to die for me," I said shrilly. "Take it back. Take it back now."

Retaliation came in the form of a form-three Hurricane Gale strike to the face. My head cracked back into the doorframe and for a moment I saw stars. Before I could fall over, though, a hand grasped my arm and pulled me upright. The low thunder of a grand carillon's bourdon bell crashed through the air, tuned to a booming G natural.

"What," Uncle Souhei's quiet voice queried, "is going on here?"

"You're the reason everything is the way it is now!" Akihiko went on yelling, heedless of the danger. "Sensei would still be here! Yoshiya would still be here! You should have died there instead!"

In a single moment those words brought me to tears. Holding one hand over my nose and clinging to Uncle's shirt with the other, my anger and exhaustion and irritation dissolved into strangled sobs.

"Shut up," I choked. "You weren't there. You don't know anything. It wasn't my fault."

Uncle Souhei's grip on my arm was neither tight nor loose; it did not change at all. The air, though, did. Akihiko's back went ramrod straight as my uncle fixed his eyes upon him. Without glasses to obscure his gaze the sharpness of his stare seemed to intensify tenfold.

"You seem to be a bit worked up right now, Akihiko-kun," the House patriarch said. Despite the mildness of his words my teammate's face began to pale. "Perhaps you ought to take a run to clear your head."

"I…" Akihiko swallowed and was rooted to the spot. He didn't look even remotely capable of operating his legs. Uncle Souhei's eyebrows lifted.

"Go now," he suggested softly. "Run."

As though breaking free of lead shackles Akihiko suddenly found himself able to move. In half a heartbeat's time he was turned away and sprinting down the road like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. I could recognize Uncle Souhei's dangerous voice through even the most violent of crying fits.

Uncle let out a sigh. "Let me see it," he said briskly as he crouched down to my height. I caught sight of Auntie standing at the end of the hall, hands twisted in her apron.

"Calm down," Uncle Souhei admonished as I continued to clutch my nose and bawl. Gently, he pried my fingers away from my face. "Ah… just as I thought. He broke it."

"It wasn't my fault," I wept at him in reply. Whether in reference to the fight or to the bunker I wasn't sure, but Uncle just ran his fingers through my hair and lifted a green-glowing hand toward my blood-covered nose.

"I know, sweetheart," he murmured. "It wasn't your fault. I know."


Upon arriving at the Academy a week later I stopped just before stepping over the threshold and wondered where I was supposed to go to make my request. The Missions Office was probably not the destination I had in mind, though I had almost headed straight there out of habit. I had no business in the classrooms and I doubted anyone of significance was stationed at the playground, but where did that leave? In truth, I hadn't spent much time anywhere else in my days at the Academy.

Eventually I just decided to go to the Faculty Office and ask one of the teachers to point me in the right direction. I had only been there once, when we'd had a meeting with my guardians about whether or not I would be advanced a grade or not, but somehow I found it remembered the route quite clearly. In fact, now that I was standing in the halls and breathing the same air again, I found that I could remember a lot of things about my Academy days. Despite the passage of time and all that had happened since then it felt strange to walk alone here. I had never walked alone in those days.

"Excuse me," I said after knocking two times and bowing with the proper etiquette. "Is Erina-sensei available?"

To be honest I was just naming a familiar name, but at one of the far desks a head of brown hair rose.

"Oh my," she exclaimed upon catching sight of me. "There's a face you don't see every day. Come in, Namikaze!"

I bowed again before shutting the door and making my way over to her. Erina-sensei leaned back in her chair and smiled curiously at me.

"It's been quite a while, hasn't it? What brings you here?" she inquired.

"I just have a quick question for you, Sensei." I smiled back a bit fondly. Out of all the classes I took at the Academy hers really had been the one I'd enjoyed best. "I came here today to apply for an apprenticeship, but I didn't know who to speak to. Might you be able to point me in the right direction?"

One of instructors sitting nearby looked up rather sharply but Erina-sensei didn't seem to notice.

"Oh?" she asked. "An apprenticeship?"

"My team has dissolved," I murmured by way of explanation. Erina-sensei's face immediately morphed into an expression of pity.

"I see. My condolences," she offered, and most sincerely. She didn't ask if they had died or not but perhaps she didn't need to. Perhaps the fact that we were dissolved was cause enough for sympathy.

"Thank you," I sighed.

"What sort of apprenticeship are you considering?" Erina-sensei continued, knowing better than to dwell. The instructor two desks away continued to eye us silently. I was brave enough to cast a sidelong glance at him, but besides inclining his head a bit in acknowledgement he did nothing more than continue to stare. I turned my attention back to Erina-sensei.

"Well," I began, twisting my fingers together, "I was hoping to apply for something in your field. The General Forces' Infiltration and Espionage Unit."

"I&E? You?" Erina-sensei was at once delighted. "That's excellent! I remember your class quite well. If we weren't at war, we would have scouted you for sure. You were a natural during the demeanor unit."

"Oh, no," I demurred politely, but she was already pulling out a blank scroll and a brush pen with a wide grin.

"Leave it to me, Namikaze," she declared cheerfully. "I'll pass your inquiry along straight to the unit head. I'm certain he'll be able to find something for you. No one your age ever bothers with I&E in wartime so he'll be ecstatic. Any of us would be happy to start teaching the trade to the next generation."

I blinked. That was rather easier than I had thought it would be. And straight to the unit head, too? I supposed all of the divisions were hurting for people these days. So much the more for the non-combat specialists, it seemed.

"Done!" Erina-sensei signed her name and then motioned at me with her pen. "I'll bring it with me to our section meeting tonight. Why don't you come back tomorrow around this same time? I'll give you his response."

I took that as my cue to bow deeply. "Thank very much for your help, Sensei," I replied formally. "I'm extremely grateful."

"My pleasure, Namikaze," Erina-sensei waved a hand with a laugh. "Well! Hopefully we'll be seeing lot more of each other soon, then, huh?"

I rose from my bow and smiled again.


A/N: Thank you as always for reading. Drop a review and check in with me if you're still around!