A/N: The idea for this story came to me piece by piece while reading other stories, and I am not the best author so do not set your expectations very high.

Normal text

Thoughts

I was not a happy child.

The first five years of my life were uneventful. I was average looking, had no exceptional skills, and had a normal amount of friends to pass the time with in the dreary orphanage. I was liked by the staff, and I always did what was required of me. Suffice to say, I was completely and totally average.

But then I gained consciousness. My first moments of awareness were spent sitting criss-cross applesauce in a circle with my friends as they debated whether to play ninja on the playground or inside. I looked at each of them and felt a strange detachment.

The day before I would have liked nothing more than to engage in the simple immature antics, but I suddenly felt bored. What was the point of playing around everyday? What was the purpose of my daily routine? I looked down at my hands and then at my surroundings. For the first time in my life, I truly observed what was occurring around me. My friends and I were in the center of the room, with other groups of kids decorated throughout the area. An adult was standing by the door, inspecting her nails and occasionally lifting her eyes to scan over the room.

Deciding that I wanted to be anywhere but where I was, I rose from my seated position. The attention of the group shifted to me and I was barraged with an assortment of "where ya goin?"'

I quickly answered "bathroom," and their attention was yanked back into the debate. I made my way to the woman and politely asked for her permission to leave. She accepted without even a glance and I opened the door and exited, shutting it softly behind me. I checked the hallway for anyone and was lucky to see none. I turned and strode to the right, the opposite direction of the bathroom. I had no particular location in mind, and just let my feet direct me. Soon I reached another doorway. I heard loud noises coming from inside, so I steeled myself and slowly cracked open the door

Upon sensing no reaction, I let out a breath I had been unknowingly holding, and entered. I searched for the source of the noise, quickly located it in the corner, and was immediately transfixed. A brawny man stood at a table, sawing back and forth on a piece of wood.

"Woah," I breathed, and the man turned his head. My heart started racing in my chest. Did I say that out loud? His eyes found me and he paused for a second, before focusing back on his work. I let out another held breath, and made a decision. I made my way over to him, and studied him from closer. He had short brown hair and a shaved beard and mustache. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he constantly played with the toothpick in his mouth. I could see the muscles under his shirt flex and contract as he worked. Interested, I stepped forward and spoke.

"What are you doing?" I asked. He gave no indication that he heard me. I stepped forward again and raised my voice a little bit. "What are you doing?" I repeated. Once again, he showed no reaction. I clenched my teeth and my lips tightened. I discovered that I did not like being ignored. Just as I opened my mouth to repeat the question once more, he responded.

"Whaddya want kid," he grunted. I reigned in my temper and politely asked my question a third time. "What are you doing?"

"Working," he said, "and I'd appreciate it if you would let me do so." This time my anger came with a barely audible growl. Who did this guy think he was? "Will you at least tell me what you're making?"

"Table," he responded curtly.

"Why," I shot back. He didn't respond again, and I bit my tongue to hold back a yell of frustration. Then, I grinned. I can play this game way longer than he can I thought. "Wh-" He sighed loudly, cutting me off.

"What does a four year old runt wa-"

"Five," I interrupted.

"Huh?" He responded.

"I'm five," I said, crossing my arms. He finally set down the saw and looked up, smirking.

"Well, what does a five year old want to know about carpentry?" He asked.

"Carpentry?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Wood-working and the like, it's kinda my thing," He replied, "now answer the question." I thought back to my earlier predicament. I did not want to spend my days learning nothing, so I made up my mind.

"I want to learn," I responded, tilting my head to stare him in the eyes. He maintained eye contact for a couple seconds before throwing his head back and laughing, a booming sound that filled the room. I uncrossed my arms and let them down to my sides, clenching my fists and gritting my teeth. His laughter finally subsided after a minute or so and he wiped a tear from his eye.

"That was the hardest I've laughed in awhile," he said, "so I guess I must thank you. But unfortunately for you, only people older than 15 can be apprentices and even then, I don't do apprentices."

"Why not?" I asked. His face became neutral again and he re-equipped the saw.

"I don't want to babysit some snot-nosed brat, it would take nothing short of the second coming of the Shodai hokage for me to want to teach somebody." He responded. "Nobody has what it takes to learn from me." I brought my head back and stood up straight.

"I bet I do," I said. He smirked again and opened his mouth to retort.

"You look like you've never even touched a saw, much less split wood."

"Just let me try," I said, "or are you scared I'm gonna be better than you?" I grinned and stared him down. He remained silent for a whole minute, but his hands stopped moving and his eyes were unfocused. This time I let him have his silence. He lifted his head to look at me and I met his gaze. His stare was heavy, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to look away. Finally he grunted and held out the saw.

"C'mere," he said. I stood in shock for a second before his words registered, and I grabbed the tool from him. He pushed a stool to the table and I climbed on top of it. The table was coated in sawdust with various tools on the left, and planks of wood on the right.

"You have one chance," he said. "Your task is to create a chair from only the materials currently on the table." My eyes widened as I realized I had no idea what I was doing. "You have five minutes," he added. I paled and my arms began to shake. What did I get myself into? He brought out a stopwatch.

"Begin."

I stared at the table in front of me, my mind racing. What should I do? I have no idea how to build a chair! I began to panic and my whole body was trembling.

"Four and a half minutes," he called out. Suddenly, a memory struck me. Ms. Marie, the matron of the orphanage, rocking on her wooden chair as she read us a storybook. A lightbulb went off In my brain. I just have to recreate her chair! Just as it dawned on me that I had no idea how to do that, it seemed as if blueprints appeared in my mind. Suddenly I knew every part of her chair and how to assemble it. I filed this surprise away for later, as I had no time to marvel at this development. My hands flew into motion and I saw the man's full focus directed at me.

I grabbed the saw and began to cut, forgoing measurements completely. I moved as if I had been a carpenter my whole life, and not a moment was wasted. I was in a completely different world, isolated in my own zone of wood-working. The only things that mattered were the complex motions of the saw and the rhythmic clicking of the stopwatch.

As I worked, I saw the door open out of the corner of my eye. The woman who I asked to go to the bathroom peeked around the door. "There you are Yumi! I've been looking all over for you!" She exclaimed as she rushed over to us. "What are you doi-" She was cut off by the man's finger pressed against her lips. He turned his head to shh her, eyes never leaving the table. She blushed scarlet and whispered "did you teach him this!?" The man shook his head and I returned my full focus to my work.

With one minute remaining I was done with all the cutting, and I began assembling the various pieces using glue to adhere the pieces together. The time ticked down and sweat poured down my neck as I pushed my newfound abilities to the max.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven…" The man counted down the final seconds. This was the moment of truth. I had successfully constructed two multi-part sections, and I slowly fit them together. My hands trembled as I set the top half onto the knobs of the base and closed my eyes. I met a barrier and I opened my eyes. One of the knobs was off by a single inch. Tears threatened to leak from my eyes. All my work just to be off by the smallest of proportions. Just as he counted "two, one…" the wood shifted before my eyes. The knob shifted perfectly into position and the chair fit together just as the stopwatch beeped.

I stepped back off the stool with wide eyes and looked at my rugged hands. The man approached the table and picked up the chair with one hand, rotating it in the air and examining my work. After a minute he set it back down and turned to face me.

"What is your name," he asked with a blank face.

"Yumi Sajuro," I responded proudly. His face split into a wide grin.

"Well, Yumi, how would you like to learn wood-working at my shop?" My heart swelled with happiness. Everything I had wanted was being offered to me. I would learn an impressive skill from one of the best in the village. My worries from earlier had all but vanished. I was able to do something meaningful! However, as soon as I opened my mouth to answer, the woman spoke up.

"Well hold on just a second," the woman interjected, and both of us turned our attention to her, "that was very impressive Yumi, but I'm afraid I cannot allow you to apprentice yourself while still under the care of this orphanage. My heart shattered and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to sink to my knees in despair. My dreams had been presented to me just to be stripped away seconds later. This time tears flowed freely down my face and I hung my head.

"What do I need to do to take him as an apprentice," the man asked.

"He would need to be adopted," the woman responded, and my heart sank further at that. It was very rare for an orphan to ever be adopted, and the chances only shrunk as you got older. I raised my head to find the man looking directly into my eyes.

"I-," he began, "I would like to adopt Yumi Sajuro into the Wazakashi family."