freaks (part two)
Kurenai

Dark clouds had rolled in and there was now icy sleet pounding down on us as we picked our way slowly up the mountain trail. The rock surface was quite slippery and difficult to manage. I wiped the dripping water out of my eyes and peered up the face of the mountain ahead. It had to be another two hours or more before we arrived. Visibility was very poor and it was getting late in the afternoon. The only thing that was sure to come was a harder go as the temperature dropped. I couldn't see the village yet and I had to admit I was getting concerned. This weather taken into account, the difficulty was a little too much for the team at this level. I didn't want to admit it, but perhaps Asuma had been right.

Kiba and Akamaru were flagged by now after the long climb. However, the two were proceeding gradually ahead. Shino, his head hooded from the slush falling from the sky, looked pale as a ghost. He was moving in short spurts of energy, stopping for a rest every now and then. His lips had turned a disturbing shade of purple. Despite this he was pushing on hard.

Hinata was not doing well. She had tired out quite a while ago and it seemed that she had burned up any extra energy reserves she had. I turned to watch her stumble yet again on the slippery rocks. I stopped and waited, standing back.

The girl's dark head wasn't rising.

Akamaru gave a sharp bark, signaling his master. Both boys stopped and looked back. "Hinata!"

Kiba picked his way across the jagged rocks to where his teammate lay. "Come on, Hinata, I'll carry you."

"No," I said firmly, stepping in. I held his arm back. "Don't."

"Are you gonna carry her then?" the boy snapped back at me, fangs bared and voice hoarse. His red streaked cheeks glared angrily against the pallor of his face in the cold. "Lookit her, she can't handle this."

Shino hung back, hesitant. His brow knitted as if he wanted to say something, and then relaxed again as he decided against it. His shoulders gave away the tension he was feeling. He stood back, observing the three of us closely.

"She can't do it. We should help her," Kiba was accusing me.

"I am helping her," I replied, coolly. Even if it doesn't look like it. Or feel like it. I turned to where the girl lay on the path. "Hinata, get up."

Hinata's shoulders were trembling, but with her head lowered we weren't able to see her facial expression.

"Hinata," I repeated, "Get up." I tried to keep my voice firm and grave. Yet in the pit of my stomach I could definitely feel a gnaw of worry beginning to grow. Hinata had said at the beginning that she was choosing this path for herself. Was she really able to take it? Were my methods wrong? What if I was making a mistake? After all, I'm a rookie teacher with training that was hardly adequate for a task as complex as making three adolescent kids into a team of adult shinobi. Maybe... maybe Asuma had been right.

I felt sorry to see her having difficulties. I felt sympathy for her. I wanted to help her up and give her a hug, dust her off. I mean, I've seen bits of her homelife. Of course I wanted to shelter her a little and give her the extra things that she doesn't get at home. I knew that she was timid and gentle and at times pretty weak. That's just the way she is.

But at the same time, combat doesn't make room for those kinds of things. The enemy doesn't stop and say, "Oh, you have a hard time with pressure? Your parents screwed you up? How sad, I'm sorry." And therefore I don't think I'd be a very good teacher if I made excuses for them. There are no coddled babies, no precious princesses in battle. And my job description is to prepare these new genin for combat. So this is the way it's got to be. I will stand back and watch this young soldier, and she must push herself to her limits. And beyond.

So I watched. I wanted to give her some kind words, but teachers aren't there to cheer their pupils on in battle. She has to find her own words for herself. I had to keep mine inside. But I can honestly say that I wished I could explain to her in that moment what was going through my mind and why.

"Come on, Hinata."

Someday there will come a day in which you fall and no one will be there to help you back up. No one will be able to carry you. You must be able to stand up with your own will. There will come a day soon in which I won't be able to help you. Please understand. Please get up.

Hinata struggled to raise her head, pushing herself up with shaky arms. Tears slipped down her pallid cheeks. Her face was dirty, her brow knitted with effort. Akamaru barked and danced about in front of her, as though trying to urge her on. Kiba and Shino looked on. Kiba looked guilty, Shino perhaps uncomfortable-- I couldn't really tell. In any case, neither boy said a word, and neither did I. I don't think we knew what to say. Perhaps this was just a moment for the small white-eyed girl before us.

That very girl brought herself to her feet and gave a long hiccupping sob. She wiped her eyes with her hands and raised her head. Biting her lip, she looked hard at the ground, tried to hold back another sob.

"Okay," was all she said, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes sharp and clear. "L-let's go."

"You did it." I told her. "Well done, Hinata."

Hinata simply nodded, and hiccupped. Together we continued on, struggling our way up the mountain together.

There are times in life when going on really hurts. But we must go on if we are to ever get through the pain and get to what is on the other side.

In my father's study there used to hang a scroll with these words written in scrawled messy characters: "If ye do it, it will be. If ye do not do it, it will not be. Thus with all matters." I used to feel irritated by it, wonder why he had it hanging on the wall. I mean, why bother putting into words such an obvious concept? I thought it was a silly thing to bother writing on a scroll and hanging up. The repetition of the same idea in the negative and then especially the final line seemed so extraneous. In my most teenage of moments I remember thinking back at it, "Well, duh." My mother, always matter-of-fact, was fond of putting the same idea in a much more concise manner. "If you want to get something done, you've got to do it yourself." I found her direct way of saying the same thing much more attractive.

As I became an adult I began to understand in a much more real way exactly what those three lines on my father's wall truly meant. It didn't just apply to whether or not my homework was done or my room was cleaned-- which was the type of situation in which my mother tended to use it. It applied to my own character as well, my own sense of self. What I had the ability to do and try. If I wanted to get stronger, become a more mature person, learn more, have more courage, be something other than what I was now-- I had to do it myself. No one could give those things to me, and I certainly wouldn't stumble across them in the middle of the road. If I don't do it, it will not be.

When I moved out of adolesence and began to struggle more with life in general, it finally made sense why the original author of the homily added the last line. I started to see for myself as . It is easy to see how the idea applies to everyday things such as chores and homework-- but I had to remember that it really was the same way with all things, even the sort of things we cannot see or hold. It was harder to motivate myself to strive for those intangible things. I needed reminding. Maybe... maybe my father did, too.

Many, many times through my years of growing up it has been that same lesson that I have had to learn over and over again. If you want something, it won't come to you. You have to act and make it happen. It took me a long time to make my goals happen, but I did it. And perhaps, perhaps I can pass that on to the students I work with.

That night, up to our chins in hot bathwater, Hinata and I sat in awkward silence.

Due to the rough weather and off-season there were few holidaymakers staying at the inn, and we had the large bath all to ourselves. We sat side by side on gray stone tiles, facing a colorful mural of rustic mountain scenery. It was quiet, but not in a relaxing sort of way. The mood felt strained and an unpalpable tension was hanging in the air. She wasn't speaking. She had not said a word to me since that scene we had earlier on the mountain path. Her expression was unreadable, those blank eyes kept lowered from view.

The water trickling over the sides of the bath into the drains echoed in the small room and filled my ears. From the men's bath in the next room we could hear the echo of puppy barks and running feet. Periodically one of the taps gave a loud drip. I didn't try to make small talk. I understood if the girl didn't feel like talking. I was wondering what she was thinking about, staring at the water as intently as she was. What does she see?

But best not to push, I supposed. I lay my head back on the smooth stones of the bath's edge and willed the day's troubles to soak away. The water was near-scalding and milky blue with minerals from some hot spring. The sign at the inn's desk had said something about the water's special health benefits, including being good for headaches, stomach problems, and softer skin. Probably absolute bull, but it did feel rather nice on my tired shoulders. All I needed was a massage and a lot of alcohol and I'd be ready for the best night's sleep ever.

Mmm. Massage. From hot beefy guy--

"S-sensei."

Ahem. My eyes blinked open and I tried to forget that last thought. She hadn't heard me, right? Right. Composure, Kurenai. "Yes, Hinata?"

"Thank you." Hinata said, simply, colorless eyes downcast. "For today."

"There's nothing to thank me for. You did it yourself." I stretched my toes, letting the heat sink into the muscles. Ah, bliss.

"That's why," the girl replied pointedly, glancing up at me through her thick lashes. "Thank you."

Getting her gist, I nodded. "Understood. You're welcome."

This exchanged, we fell again into silence, this time relieved rather than uneasy. So she had been able to understand what I was trying to teach her. I was very pleased, tickled actually. Excellent work, my little freak. You are well on the way to becoming a real kunoichi. Now go and wreak havoc in the chuunin exams!

Almost as if in response to my mental glee, Hinata gave me a shy smile and sniffed. She rested her head against the stone tiles and let out a yawn. The leaky tap gave a loud drip. Next door there was a loud splash and a lot of yipping.

"Sensei," Hinata said presently, her voice soft. "I want to be stronger. Like you."

"I'm not strong," I confessed, embarrassed. "I just barely made jounin."

"No," she disagreed, shaking her head emphatically. "I don't think so. You... when you speak, it shows. When you walk. I-I want to be more like that."

"Confidence? Mine is more of a front than anything else," I remarked. "Really, I'm always worrying about what other people are thinking of me." It's true, I have grown up somehow to be much too self-conscious. I hold my pride very dear, as my mother used to say about me.

"But," I continued, trying to explain something I hadn't ever had the need to verbalize to another person before, "...but when I really want strength, it comes from inside."

Hinata was listening closely, intent on my every word. "Inside."

I nodded, making an effort to choose my words carefully. "I concentrate on what I truly want, what is truly important to me. What I think I truly am. And I find it there."

It is buried inside me. I can feel that place, deepest in my soul, where the tiny piece that is most truly me resides. It is a pearl, white and pure and shining in the darkness that is me. It is what I want to become, my dreams and hopes and what I believe in. When I close my eyes and find that center, I feel stronger. Focused.

Hinata's dark head bobbed in response. Her expression was transfixed.

"Yes." I gazed down at the young Hyuuga, hoping that somehow she would understand all of what I wanted to say to her. "Strength is something that no one else can give you. You have to give it to yourself, and you have to work for it."

"I don't know if I can," she began. "But I want to. I think."

I shook my head. "If you talk to yourself like that, it won't happen. You're sabotaging yourself. You have to tell yourself you can, and tell yourself that you will, no matter what it takes. Or you won't be able to do it. Trust me, here, I'm speaking from experience." I gave a rueful wince. "You can do it, Hinata. But you have to tell yourself that."

"I see," she replied, swallowing. Is it possible for a person to look brave and uncertain at the same time? "I'll do my best."

"Good." I agreed. "that's good."

We sat in quiet accord for a while. The tap dripped with a loud ker-plunk. "Hinata," I said at length.

"Yes, Sensei?"

I offered her a smile. "I was proud of you today."

Perhaps it was the hot water, perhaps it was a trick of the dim light, but it appeared to me that the girl blushed happily in response. "T-thanks."

I let out a long sigh. Hinata would be okay. I would be okay. Kiba would bathe. (Cue barking and shouting from next door.) Everything, I was sure, would work out. It would be tough, it would hurt sometimes, but it would work out somehow. For all of us.

The rest of that journey went by quickly. Our message had already been delivered and exchanged for another to bring back to Konoha with us, so our work was all done. That night we ate a big dinner, slept all together in a big room. The journey home was rough, but the kids pulled through successfully and I felt indeed that survival together was going to be this team's strong point.

In two days time we were back village gates again, and not a moment too soon. It was very late at night when we arrived. I was exhausted and definitely had had enough of Kiba's rather authoritative method of self-imposed leadership. Yet foolishly I had promised not to interrupt-- meaning I had rendered myself unable to intervene. Good one, rookie teacher. The barking and nagging, and the buzzing of bugs in reply to said barking and nagging, had resulted in a major headache for me. I dismissed the team that night in what had to have been record time, leaving the post-mission review for another day when we were all more agreeable. I was in no mood for it and I had paperwork to file anyway.

I found the streets of the village dark and damp. The effect of this time of year is generally bleak in my opinion anyway-- soggy and dismal. Typhoons and thunderstorms are frequent and despite the daytime's warm wetness, it's chilly in the evenings. I usually find myself hoping summer will hurry on its way. The humid air hung heavily in the empty streets. The ground was wet and slippery with fresh mud from recent rain.

I was glad for my leggings and vest. My nose felt a little runny and I sniffed. Miserable weather. I was looking forward to finishing up and then getting home as soon as possible. After the journey home, my hair was dirty and my skin felt grubby. A good scrub would feel great. I rubbed my neck and sighed. God, those kids could really test my nerves sometimes.

Holding my paperwork tight against the tugging of the wind, I rounded the corner of the main headquarters building and prepared for my customary dash across the grass and up the front steps. Out of the corner of my eye a movement caught my attention and I halted, wary. My hand was on my kunai holster in an instant.

Someone was there, moving in the dark. Scrutinizing the shadows, I made out a large frame and the firefly point of a cigarette. Then with a languid exhale of smoke, the figure stepped into the dim yellow patch of streetlight glow.

"Hey." Hand raised in a casual greeting, Asuma was walking in my direction. I almost returned his greeting, glad to see a familiar face. Then I remembered Friday night and changed my mind.

My eyes narrowed just thinking about it. Standing in front of a table full of Konoha's elite shinobi-- people I've looked up to for years!-- is nothing to be sneezed at. I mean, Gekkou Hayate, Shiranui Genma, Hatake Kakashi, Maito Gai, Sarutobi Asuma-- just a handful of some of our most well-known, well-respected jounin. And all of them were looking at me standing there on the sidelines, not really one of the group. And then, then when I had told them about my mission, Asuma had questioned my ability in front of everyone. He had implied it was too much for me to handle.

I had thought maybe I could trust him. Maybe. He was agreeable to be with and all. I had thought we could even become friends. But saying something like that-- in front of all of the people watching in that room-- that was something I definitely didn't appreciate.

So I'm female. So it took me longer to make jounin. So what! I'm a jounin now, just like them. If they want to test me, bring it on in a fair fight. I'm up to the challenge. But being verbally doubted or insulted or treated like I'm less able than they are is something I'm not going to stand for, thank you very much.

I could still feel the anger I had felt that night in my stomach, tight and bitter.

You can patronize someone else. I'm not your little girl to protect and I won't be your mascot. I don't need your help. I'm a teacher just as much as you all are. I'm just newer. That's all. Just watch. I'll show you all.

I steeled myself and put on my coolest, calmest expression. Continuing my stride towards him, I gave a curt nod.

"Kurenai," he replied, with a puff of smoke. "Glad to see you."

I blinked, taken aback. "Asuma." Was he really? And for that matter--

"What on earth happened to you?"

As I neared the light were he was standing, I could plainly see a large white stripe of some sort down his face, from his forehead over the left eye down to his scruffy beard. His hair was full of chunks of white matter, and what was more, his right arm was in a sling. Large wounds or something were covering his clothes, big slashes and patches of brown.

"Paint. It's just paint," he assured me, waving it away with his left hand. "Don't worry."

"I wasn't worried," I corrected him quickly, remembering my ire. I shifted my gaze to the head office, trying to be terse. Just paint? For a moment there, I had seriously thought he had been in some sort of bizarre dogfight.

He blinked and looked down at me curiously. "Er. Right."

At that choicest of moments the wind picked up and blew my papers out of my grasp. Shit. God, what an idiot I must seem. Walking into doors, spilling paperwork in the street. Might as well call me Dopey-sensei and get it over with. I fumbled and groped after them.

Asuma snatched three out of the air, lunging forward to grab one more just before it hit a murky puddle. Left-handed even, the man's speed was remarkable. I found myself gaping, clutching the two sheets I had managed to get in my sweaty hands. He straightened again with a groan of effort and gave me the papers with an embarrassed smile. "Here."

"Thank you," I managed, humbled. I collected them from his paint-stained fingers. Asuma's hands are big, especially compared to mine. His knuckles are battered and calloused from years of battle. The crusty white and brown pigment now caked in the cracks made the lines stand out all the more. Even the bracelet he wore on that hand had a big splotch of paint on it. My eyes stayed on his hand as it moved away again, drawing back to rub his face. His dark eyes were bleary, tired lines showing on his lower eyelids and at the corners. He looked drained.

Our eyes met briefly, and I realized that I was staring at his face. I hastily dropped my gaze. "Well." I said, stacking the papers neatly again and shuffling them into order. "Well. I have paperwork to file. So."

"Okay. See you." He seemed troubled or disappointed for some reason. Definitely not his usual carefree self, anyway. Without another word, he waved a little with his left hand and turned to go.

For some reason, I found myself looking up at the sky. The stars were brilliant, sparkling down at me. But the otherwise dark street wasn't exactly a comfortable place to be with the cold wind and wet puddles. I didn't like the way I felt. Something in my chest felt sour. I had the feeling I had done something wrong, but what it was or how to fix it was beyond me. There was so much I didn't understand yet. There is so much I don't understand about myself.

"Asuma," I called after him, without thinking. The clear sound of my own voice in the night air surprised even myself.

"Yeah?" he replied with a grunt.

"What were you doing here so late at night?" I wondered. I walked a few steps in his direction, closing the distance between us. "You finished your mission, right?"

Pausing in his tracks, he turned to look at me over his shoulder. "Huh? Yeah, finished when it got dark." His tone of voice was strained and hard to read.

I pushed a windblown lock of hair out of my eyes as I stared up at him, puzzled. "Then, shouldn't you be at home resting?"

Asuma scratched his head, making paint flakes scatter, and turned back to face me. It was difficult to make out his expression in the dim light. The orange flame of his cigarette glowed as he breathed in, like hot coals in a furnace. He blew a thin trail of smoke skyward and shifted his arm in the sling. "I heard that scouts spotted your team about two leagues away from the village. So I thought you might come by soon."

"You were waiting for me?" I asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"I don't know," he said, tilting his head to the side. He shrugged gently with his good arm. "I wanted to make sure you got back okay, I guess. Missed talking to you."

These words hit me square between the eyes. I staggered back, at a loss for what to say in reply. He missed talking to me. Why did he say that? Did he really mean that, or was it just something that normal people say to casual work acquaintances but don't really mean? My mouth opened and my lips grasped for something to say back. I wasn't sure if I should still be angry with him, or be flattered that he wanted to see me. In the end, the kindness won out. Maybe I've been with Hinata too much. I'm turning soft.

"What happened to you?" I asked again, more sincere this time.

"Let's just say," he said, trying to laugh and failing miserably, "that painting the Hokage's house was no walk in the park. " Now he chuckled ruefully, hand covering his eyes. "I feel like such a jerk. Seriously, it should have been you worried about me."

I'm sure my eyes were like saucers by that point. Was he trying to say he was sorry for the other night? "I see," I mused. "You look like..."

He gave a woeful sigh of smoke. "Shit. I know. Everyone's been reminding me. They're not letting me forget it, either."

"I was going to say," I continued, giving him a questioning glance. He really did look like he had had a tough time. I wanted to forget my earlier indignation somehow, looking at his sorry state. "You look like you could use a beer." Among other things.

Asuma blinked as though processing this information. He gave a long drag of his smoke while doing so. Then a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "As a matter of fact, so do you."

I found his smile infectious. He didn't sound condescending in the least. Maybe he had just been concerned. Could it be that perhaps I have yet again overracted? I have to remember again what an idiot I can be, when I put too much thought into things. I hold my pride too dear, after all. I lowered my eyes to the papers I held in my hand, feeling the smile spread across my lips. "Well. Let me file this paperwork, and then let's go get a beer."

Asuma obliged these words with his usual easy grin. "Sounds like a deal."

Notes:

I recently read up on the Jumps in the supermarket and the ones that have piled up in the good old kaisha breaku roomu. Turns out that as of a few weeks ago, Asuma's dad was the Third Hokage, and according to the apparent angst and the things he said they weren't close and he had issues with him that remained unsolved and even had problems with being a Sarutobi. Anyway, you'd think it would have gotten mentioned by him by now if they were close. Luckily this already fit pretty well with how I had characterized him for this story anyway-- he isn't too hot on being favored because of his relations, and he doesn't deal with his problems up front, both come up in later chaps. I've put a lot of thought into how I wrote here and other places based on his lines in the Japanese, so I hope you also think it fits. I'll try to show my take on it in the story as opposed to just telling you here though.

I can only pray that Konohamaru is not his child. Please god.