A/N: I'm back! I've decided that I'm going to update once a week, though only after the following chapter is finished and since I've nearly finished chapter 3 I thought 'why not?' xD
Chapter 2: The Academy
Starting at the Academy was scary. I'd spent the whole night awake and practically bouncing off of my bedroom walls. Would I be good enough? Was I up to standard? Kurenai had told me that there was nothing to worry about. That the civilian-born kids usually start with zero prior training. It was unfathomable – especially after having experienced the training that my father had put me through.
Though I suppose that it accounted for why there was a lack of civilian-born shinobi in the ranks. They would be hard-pressed to catch up to children who had been hardened and trained from the moment that they could walk.
I started at the Academy on a warm, sunny day. Papa had managed to push back taking his genin team on their D-rank mission until that afternoon so that he and my mother could walk me in on my first day. I was so nervous of making a good first impression that I slipped my hand out of my mother's as we arrived on Academy grounds.
It was a large red building with the character for "fire" on a sign above the building. It was familiar to me; I had been here before with my mother when we had to go pick up Kurenai before she began insisting that she could make her own way home. Mother had been down about it for a while – Kurenai had come off as a little brusque – but I managed to keep her hands full and mind elsewhere by nagging her into more chakra exercises. With Mama's help, I found that I was able to apply my chakra into techniques – mostly just focussing chakra in my limbs to help strengthen them, but she also secretly taught me a genjutsu. It was a small genjutsu, one that had been taught to beginners of genjutsu in her family for generations. It didn't do very much, merely causing the air to appear to ripple as if it were a hot day, and thus was useless in a fight, but mother was ecstatic when I was able to seemingly master it on the first try. Although, she told me not to mention it to Papa – he wasn't a fan of his in-laws, apparently. Or perhaps they weren't fans of him. Either way, we – Kurenai and I – had no contact with our maternal side of the family.
Mother snatched up my hand again, laughing when I tried to tug it away again. Eventually I just let her have my hand.
There were plenty of parents there for the Academy's Orientation Day. There were older students too, most performing small jutsus and such to impress the large amount of civilian families that were planning on sending their child into the Academy to become a shinobi. It stunned me how they didn't seem to comprehend that all those backflips and low-level fire-style ninjutsus were to be used so that they could be used to fight – to kill – other people. It seemed wrong. The tools used in the act of taking another's life shouldn't be used as though they were simple acrobatics and magical tricks – they were a means to an end, fair and simple.
A means to a very violent end.
Looking up at Papa, I saw him viewing the ogling crowd with slight disdain before he ushered us both into the building.
The atmosphere was a little more relaxed within the Academy's main building, and I recognised several clan symbols emblazoned on the garments of parents and children alike. The Yūhi family was not considered a clan, so we didn't have a clan symbol, although my father had often spoken of what it would look like if we ever did become a clan. He was particularly torn between an emblem depicting either a sakura blossom tree, or the red evening sky. He held a fondness for both.
Kurenai was named after the latter, after all.
Kurenai had once whispered to me that mother was originally from a shinobi clan, though she didn't know which one and Mama had refused to talk about it when I'd approached her on the subject.
The Academy was a tidy place, but it was in no way clean. Gouges and scratches and scuffmarks were rampant on the floor as well as some of the walls, and dirt had been tracked everywhere. However, I suppose it was to be expected when you handed excitable children sharp knives and told them that they were going to become ninja. My gaze was drawn upwards. At least it is tidy, I thought. There is nothing to trip—
—How on earth did scuffmarks get on the ceiling?
Father and mother didn't waste any time standing in the doorway and made a beeline for old acquaintances whose children were to be my classmates. Most of them were clan-born but there were also a few civilian-born shinobi that Papa respected whose children would be starting with me at the Academy. I wasn't sure how to act around either of them. I would give a half-hearted wave, a strained smile and subtly tug on Papa's pant leg to take us elsewhere.
I wished that Kurenai were here, instead she was out on a training exercise at one of the training grounds with her class. It would've been nice to have her here.
"Kurei-san!" A voice called from somewhere behind us. "Kurei!"
We turned. A man around Papa's age with long white-grey hair tied into a simple ponytail stepped out from behind a teary civilian family and made his way towards us. I glanced up at Papa, he was grinning at the man widely. I stepped behind his leg so that I was out of sight.
"Sakumo," Father greeted, and they clasped hands like old friends. Perhaps they were old friends, seeing as Papa had greeted him without honorific. Though I certainly had no real clue; Papa made every effort to leave missions and his work out of his personal life. Though the name "Sakumo" did ring a bell, perhaps my father had mentioned him at some stage.
"Ah, Kagura-san. You look as lovely as ever." Mother had the decency to blush.
"It's good to see you again, Sakumo-kun," Mama stated with genuine warmness. "You should come join us for dinner some time. It feels like we haven't seen each other since…" Mother trailed off, her smile fading and she bites her lip as if she's said something that she shouldn't have.
But whether she has or hasn't is apparently irrelevant as Sakumo keeps his friendly smile and genuinely, "I'd very much like that. Could I bring my son as well? I'd like him to meet his mother's best friend."
Mother's eyes glistened and she looked like she was about to cry, which was odd. I'd never seen a grown-up cry before. The prospect unnerved me. "Of course," Mama said softly. "He is welcome anytime."
Sakumo nodded before he turned back to my father. "What brings you here, my friend?" Sakumo asked.
Yep, they were friends all right.
"My youngest starts her first day today," Papa said, and I beamed at the trace of pride in his voice. He was proud of me. I wouldn't let him down.
Sakumo's eyes drifted down to where I was peeking out from behind Papa's leg at him with wide eyes. He chuckled, giving me a warm smile as he squatted down in front of me.
"Hello there," he said.
"…Hi." I gave him a small smile and, grasping onto my courage, stepped out from behind Papa's leg and held out my small hand towards him. "My name is Ayaka."
His laugh was deep and loud and I found myself entranced by the sound. I liked the sound of it. I liked him. He shook my hand gently and I could practically feel the power and dexterity underneath the callouses on his palm and fingers. He could easily have broken my wrist with just a thought and twist of his hand. I liked how very aware of his power he was, of his restraint; he was being careful not to accidentally hurt me.
"Oh, I know who you are, Ayaka-chan. Your tou-san never stops talking about you." I must have looked slightly panicky because he quickly adds in a conspiratorial whisper, "All good things, I assure you."
I beamed at him. Then I beamed at Papa.
Sakumo stood and the conversation drifted away from me to Kurenai, then to old training grounds and exercises that they used to use when they were at the Academy.
"And how is your son, Sakumo-kun?" Mama enquired.
"Ah, yes. He's the reason I'm here today, actually."
"Is he starting at the Academy too?" I asked hopefully. I'd very much like to meet the son of a man as nice as Sakumo.
"Well, actually…" He rubbed the back of his head, looking slightly self-conscious as he gives us a small smile. "I'm here to speak to the Hokage about him. Hokage-sama wishes to promote him to chūnin; apparently he's made quite a splash compared to the other genin."
Father's eyebrows rose in surprise, although it was Mama who spoke first. "But isn't he only a year or two older than Ayaka? A year younger than our Kurenai?"
Sakumo nodded. "Yes, he's only six years old – nearly seven. They want me to be present for when he signs the paperwork and waiver forms for the more dangerous missions he'll be taking as a chūnin. So the jōnin think it best if I am present when he signs it; in case he doesn't understand the seriousness of what he's signing. But I have full faith in my boy – he understands what he's getting into. He started at the Academy when he was just four years old, and the Hokage thinks that he's ready to make chūnin. No ordinary six year old makes chūnin." It's not hard to hear and envy the devotion and adoration present in Sakumo's words about his son. His son was only a year older than me and already was being promoted to chūnin. It was a little disheartening. I had been proud when Mama told me that only the advanced children get into the Academy before the age of six, and here I was starting at five years old.
He must really be something special.
"Congratulations, Sakumo. Just like a chip off the old block, eh? You must be very proud of him."
"Everyone! The morning tea has now finished." A young man – likely a chūnin teacher at the Academy – called loudly over the sea of parents and children, interrupting any reply Sakumo could voice. He stood at the front of the room, his eyes dark and an expression of lazy indifference upon his face. The families outside must have joined us inside the building at some point because I noticed that the room is filled with people. You couldn't even walk two steps without bumping into someone. "Could the children please follow me so that we can begin getting them settled into their classes." Although it was phrased like a question, it was spoken in a tone that was not to be brokered with.
Without another word, he spun on his heel and marched through a door on the opposite side of the room.
Giving Mama and Papa a quick hug and a wave to Sakumo, I darted through the crowd, blending into the group of kids making their way towards the door.
The chūnin led us up a flight of stairs into an empty classroom. There were not enough seats in the classroom for us all to sit down; so many of us had to stand. By the time all the stragglers had made their way into the classroom my feet were aching and I was seriously considering squeezing in between the two boys on the bench in front of me just so that I could get off my feet. But I stayed put; Papa would have been disappointed if he found out that I was getting tired from just standing still – even if it had been almost half an hour.
"Alright, it seems like everyone is here now." The chūnin who had led us into the room said. "My name is Takahata and I am one of the teachers at the Academy."
One of…?
I looked around and almost jumped. Several chūnin-level shinobi were situated around the room and I hadn't heard them enter. The closest one was not even two metres away from me. I may not have been paying attention – Papa would tear through me if I ever admitted that to him – but I should have been able to hear the shuffle of footsteps or clothing or anything. I guess this is just what it means to be a shinobi.
I heard several students gasp as they too noticed the shinobi surrounding them; some even jumped to their feet yelping. It was slightly disheartening, although not entirely unexpected, to see that they were mostly civilian-born students. A dark-haired civilian boy actually tripped over, knocking over a desk and sending another group of students scrambling about.
I turned my attention back to the chūnin, Takahata. His lips twitched but that was as far to a smile as he seemed to allow.
He cleared his throat, earning the attention of the room again. "If we're quite finished here, I would like to move on," he said, giving a flat stare to the dark haired boy, who cringed and turned a bright shade of pink. "Let me be very clear about one thing before you begin your time at the Academy. It will be hard work. And nothing is guaranteed. Even for the clan-born students, I've seen many cocky clan-born students who think that they are the cream of the crop just because of the emblem on their clothes. Let me be very clear about another thing – I will not tolerate arseholes." There was a collective intake of breath from the kids around me at his cuss, and I heard the chūnin behind me tut his disapproval at Takahata.
But I liked him immediately.
"In this way, the Academy is fair to all its students. We do not have favourites besides those that work hard and aim to serve the village with their very lives. As I said earlier – this will not be easy, and I expect that not even a third of you brats will last to graduation."
Brats? It seemed a little harsh but I liked his blunt "no-nonsense" attitude; it was very different from the understanding and caring approach that Iruka Umino would take with his future stude—wait, future students? Iruka Umino? A heavy fog seemed to descend over my mind and I struggled to retain my train of thought. It had had something to do with my past life, some half forgotten memory that prodded around the back of my head but was as hard to get a hold of as someone grasping at steam.
I let the issue go and the stifling blanket of fog abruptly lifted, bringing my thoughts back into crisp clarity.
How odd.
I glanced around, half-expecting half-wondering if the fog was some sort of genjutsu that everyone – not just myself – had fallen under. It didn't seem to be so. They were all looking forward, giving Takahata-sensei all of their attention. Just like I should be doing now.
Takahata-sensei talked only for a little while longer, but in that short space of time insulted us in so large a variety of ways that I was making a game of picking up on them. We were up to twenty-two insults so far – which included name-calling such as "brats", "imps", or – my personal favourite – "cocky shits". Finally, he reached the end of his speech and just by looking at the chūnin around the room I could tell that about half were annoyed by Takahata's rudeness, whilst the other half were amused. I wondered if the teachers at the Academy were conscripted to take up this job, it would certainly explain why Takahata and some of the other chūnin were so seemingly averse to teaching us.
"Alright, dipshits. This is how it's going to work."
Twenty-three.
"You're going to be divvied up into four classes. We have class lists already so we'll be calling out names. These classes will likely merge together at some stage in the future when most of you hopeless cases-" Twenty-four "-drop out and the class' size get too small to continue as a separate class. So listen close, because if you walk into the wrong class we'll kick you out of the Academy."
He had to be joking… right?
Three other chūnin stepped forward, a scroll in their hands and Takahata himself produced a scroll from his kunai pouch. They began speaking names all at once, four name's said at the same time and although it was hard to keep track of the names being said, it was even harder trying to determine which chūnin had said which name because they didn't pause or repeat any of the names again. They also didn't seem to be in any particular order – alphabetical or otherwise.
"Yūhi Ayaka!"
I jumped from where I had been leaning against the wall and looked around but the name – my name – had already slipped away and others were already replacing it. I looked around at the chūnin but they were reading straight off of their scrolls, eyes downcast and personalities unapproachable.
I had missed it. I had no idea which chūnin had said my name. It could have come from the front of the room – from Takahata – but I hadn't recognised the voice. Though that could just as likely be attributed to the fact that there were several people talking at once. I felt sick to the stomach. I had missed it. I had been unprepared – Papa would be disappointed in me. As would Mama. I had let them both down within the first five minutes of being at the Academy.
No. No no no no no. Stay calm. I had to stay calm and focus. How could I figure out which class I was in? Asking the chūnin was out of the question. I could ask another student but I doubted that they would be able to hear their own name, let alone remember which chūnin had spoken mine. So what did that leave me with?
Father's voice echoed through my head: When one cannot obtain information through subtle means – gossip, rumours and the like – a shinobi must extract the information himself. Through less than subtle means. Seduction, torture, espionage, reconnaissance – these are the true tools of a shinobi, more so than any blade or poison.
Reconnaissance…
I shifted quickly between the press of academy student bodies, making my way towards the nearest chūnin. I would just have to have a look at his list if I couldn't find out through other means. The chūnin in general didn't seem to be specifically on guard; in fact they seemed to be the cocky ones. But whatever. If the chūnin wanted to underestimate us – I was fine with that.
I flitted from chūnin to chūnin, checking each of their lists until I finally began to read the last list of students; just as I'd expected, I found my name on this list easily somewhere near the top and sticking out like a sore thumb just as the chūnin finished calling out names.
I was in Takahata's class.
Good Lord. I liked him well enough but I was sure that he'd caught me looking at least one of the other chūnin's lists. I just hoped he wouldn't kick me out for it. Hopefully he'd seen it for what it was – a shinobi using their head to gather critical information.
Either I'd stand out among my fellow classmates if he liked what I had done. Or I wouldn't stand among them at all.
The latter was not an option.
Boom!
The wall near us imploded, raining mortar and plaster and dust into the room. The chūnin wasted no time in whipping out their kunai and ushering my fellow classmates to the opposite side of the room. The wall had been reduced to nothing more than rubble. Was this an attack?
I could make out a single silhouette in the slowly calming cloud of debris and plaster dust that obscured our view of the enemy. They must be pretty stupid to target the Academy – that or they were targeting the weak. What a coward.
Well, they were in for a surprise. I could already see the clan-born kids stepping into various offensive and defensive stances, anticipating a fight. Except that they were all safely at the back of the room and I was not. I had been behind Takahata – standing closest to the wall that was now no more.
The silhouette moved – stepping into the room.
I snatched a pen and threw it at the figure, like I had been trained to do with kunai or senbon.
"Hey bitches! I am Anko Mitarashi, the sexy—Gah!" The little girl about my own age dived to the side to avoid the pen that had been thrown at her. It flew past her ear, her quick dive making the pen miss her by only a few centimetres.
Oh. My. God.
I had nearly just killed Anko Mitarashi.
"Who the hell threw that?!" Anko glared as she made her way back up to her feet. Her glare landed on me and I felt my face flush under her scrutiny. Perhaps leaping straight into battle with Anko Mitarashi of all people wasn't the best decision I could have made my first day at the Academy.
The punch came out of nowhere and clipped me under the chin before I could dart out of the way. My jaw stung from the impact as I backed up a few steps. No, she did not just punch me in the jaw. I opened and closed my mouth a few times like a goldfish, trying to work the pain out of my chin.
Anko darted closer again and I moved into a sweeping kick, knocking her feet out from under her. She landed on the floor with a loud oomph.
Dear God. I must have a death wish. Perhaps dying once had made me reckless? Whatever it was, knocking Anko to the ground would not end well for me.
"That's enough, girls." I turned. Takahata was standing over both of us with an indecipherable expression on his face. "Anko Mitarashi, yes?" He asked, turning to Anko.
"Yessir!" She replied, clambering to her feet once more.
"You're in my class. And you." He turned to me. "What's your name?"
"A-Ayaka Yūhi."
"You're in my class too… Good." Wait… was that a smile that flickered onto his face? "Both of you follow me. The rest of my class, follow me also to our classroom! Anyone who gets it wrong is expelled from the Academy!"
We marched through a pair of doors opposite to the wall that Anko had smashed through. How on earth had she broken through that wall though?
Anko and I walked in silence directly behind Takahata-sensei. I felt flustered and nervous. Anko must hate me. God, I was probably on her shit list now. Did that mean I would be on Orochimaru's shit list too?
My life was so over. I tried not to cry.
"I like you."
My head whipped to face Anko so fast that my chin and jaw ached and my neck cracked.
"W-what?" I stuttered out.
"You're pretty cool. You've got some sweet moves." Anko's face broke out into a grin and she held out her fist towards me. What was she doing? What should I do? Was she asking me to fist bump her?
Tentatively, I clenched my fist and touched it lightly to hers. Grinning, Anko jabbed her fist forward and our fists collided with a sharp crack.
Goddamnit! I nearly howled. Don't cry. Don't you dare cry! She did that on purpose!
But when I looked at Anko I couldn't see any sort of malevolence in her eyes, only her grin and the way that she stood closer to me suddenly. And just like that – just like that – I knew that she considered us best friends.
And, oddly enough, I found that I was completely okay with that.
A/N: I've seen other fan fiction authors do this so I thought I might give it a try.
Information about the author and other useless stuff:
If you're ever homeless, spend money on a 24-hour gym membership. You'll have a place to go every night, with showers, etc.
I literally cried when reading Sakura's fight scenes in the Fourth Shinobi War. I'll say no more on it.
I'm a university student. I've just changed from Biomedical Science to just a regular Science degree.
The first swear word I learnt was "crap" when I was eight.
I'm a guy.
The longest place name in the world is Taumatawhakatangihangako-auauotamateaturipukakapikimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu located in New Zealand.
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