"YOU'RE ALIVE!"
I saw the blur of a red cap before I was tackled into the dirt.
"Gin! What are you doing here?" I asked, looking up at the gate of the Uchiha district.
"Finals!" he exclaimed, helping me up. "Hurry, we better get good seats!"
I blinked, not understanding his finger countdown. Miyako was still too fresh in my mind. Even my own friend looked strange.
But then, I got it. "THREE, TWO, ONE!"
We ran to school. We slammed against the front door of the building within seconds of each other, but the sound was two distinct thumps. I won.
"Damn, and I trained hard too," he sighed, tugging his cap back in place. "But heh, guess you're ready—" His face smacked into someone's back.
The school hallway was packed. Every student, junior or senior, was fighting to see out the windows.
"What's going on?" I asked, tiptoeing.
A senior answered me. "Only the hottest babe of the century destroying every chuunin examiner at once."
I exchanged a look with Gin. Curious, we dropped to our knees and crawled through the crowd.
"Oh my gosh, she's so pretty!"
"Oh man, what a cool move."
"How sexy!"
I choked when Tomoe gave a sly grin to her audience, before extending her hand. She stopped her assailant and flipped him in one move. She stood in a field, outnumbered eight to one, unarmed and in plain clothes. And she was beating senseless every last one of her challengers.
"Oh gosh, oh gosh, you see that?"
"How cool!"
I could not look away. More chuunin fell to the ground. Tomoe did not move from her spot. She did not even blink or change the direction of her gaze.
Finally, Teacher Suzume put an end to the humiliation. She nudged up her glasses and coughed. "I do believe we've seen enough."
The other proctors agreed.
"Yes, of course," Tomoe said. She punched her fist into her palm, getting down on one knee. The doctors led the poor chuunin out of the sparring field.
"Miss Uchiha," said one of the proctors, clipboard in hand. "You are already registered in our database with a full ninja license, and yet, you claim to have never graduated."
"That is true, sir."
"Will you explain how this is."
"Eleven years ago, I was approved to serve under the eighteen battalion, frontier A. However, I left the village before I ever finished my Academy education."
"Eighteen batta—" The proctor stopped. He lowered his clipboard. "Honor to have your return, Uchiha Tomoe. Your genin status will be confirmed momentarily. Likewise, chuuninship after your examination in six months. Any questions?"
"Jouninship, sir."
"That will be far more difficult. A high level of ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu is required. Elemental manipulation is a base requirement."
"With all due respect sir, I do believe the Uchiha clan prepares its children with full efficiency, with at least one elemental before the age of eleven, if not as early as seven." Tomoe raised her head. "Our clan has not been represented in the same quantity as former generations, but that does not degrade our quality."
The proctor tensed. "Very well. Information of jouninship will be provided to you. Any other requests?"
"ANBU."
Everyone stiffened.
"That..." the proctor hesitantly said, "will be up to the discretion of the Hokage."
A hostess smile. "I see Konoha has not changed then."
I peeled Gin from the window, then dragged him to our classroom before the bell rang. I snapped my fingers, screamed in his ear, and clapped in his face, but he was in a daze. I stole his cap, which did work.
"Hey!" He snatched it back.
"Ayae!" Tamaki waved from the window.
I beamed, about to join her and the rest of the girls, when I was blocked.
"Hello, honey doll," Michio greeted me, his voice lower and smoother than usual. He looked older too.
I blinked at this new clothes—military boots, baggy pants, grey tank, and the regular bangles. Everything was topped off with a new trench coat, opened wide. Something about him was different besides the clothes, though, something that made him much more... nice. More boy-ish.
But he did not give me time to figure out what, as he planted a kiss on my cheek. In front of all my friends. He winked. "I do believe we will indubitably ace this."
"Um, Ayae? Who's this?"
I opened my mouth, but Michio beat me to the punch. He took Tamaki's hand and kissed the back of it. "Michio, at your service."
Tamaki blushed. "Kobayashi Tamaki."
"What a lovely name for a lovely young girl."
Her blush deepened eight shades of red. "Thank you."
Ayame, who was sitting behind, asked, "How do you know Ayae, Michio?"
Michio closed his eyes and smirked. "Why, Ayae and I have had a long, personal, and intimate history."
"Of two weeks," I deadpanned.
"Ouch, that is what you say to he who healed your tender wounds after your violent lover abused you so?"
My eye twitched. There were so many things wrong with his sentence that I did not know how it even came into existence. Unfortunately, my friends latched onto every word.
"Tender wounds—"
"Violent lover—"
"What on earth happened?"
"No, that's not—it was a—Itachi's not—" I saw my mistake when the eyebrows shot sky high. "No no no, this has nothing—it's not what you think—" When they started whispering, I gave up.
"BAH! Where's that test!" I threw my hands up in the air, marching to a desk.
Laughing, Michio flickered. He sat down next to me, to my annoyance.
"Every other seat!" His face met my fist. He skidded over to the other side of the table.
But his grin did not go away. He propped up his head. "No need to be modest, babe."
"Don't I have some fancy clan title now? Can I, like, sentence you to death with it, or something?"
"Hm, dying by the hand of the one you love doesn't seem like a bad way to go."
"That's awful!" I cried.
He chuckled. "Then don't hurt me, honey doll."
His smile was sincere. His hair seemed to curl nicely in place. His jacket looked pretty cool. And his teeth were wonderfully straight. As if his aura changed—
Someone sat in between us, dropping a textbook on the table. The noise snapped me out of my daze.
"Welcome back." Hana took my neighbor seat, as she had for the past three years. "I assume you studied well?"
"Err..."
"Don't fail, okay?" she told me, a hand on my shoulder. "I need you and Minoji with me next year."
Hana scanned over her notes a final time, before the teachers came in and she closed her books.
The test began.
I was screwed. Itachi tried. He really did, but we had less than ten hours to cram in a whole year of materials.
Literature, I forgot one of the passages. The dead Daimyo should remain dead.
Math was a whole other story. Itachi had prepared me best in math, to the point that I thought I knew fractions and all the properties: adding, multiplying, changing the bottom number and the top number and common denominators and stuff. I went through the first page with no problems.
But then, I got to the word problems and hit a roadblock. The first page was not as straightforward. The second page had a lot of calculations. After a while, I started seeing things that did not look like numbers anymore, and eventually...
The eastern and western divisions are fifty kilometers apart, moving toward each other. The eastern division advances one meter every second. The western division advances three meters every second, stopping in ten minute intervals for three seconds. A messenger shinobi, who can cover ten kilometers within fifteen minutes, with an additional minute every five kilometers thereafter, begins at the eastern division and delivers one letter to the western, then one back to the eastern, and so forth.
a. How many letters will be exchanged until the two divisions meet.
b. Given the cycloid path and speed of the spy shinobi in the diagram below, state the latitude and longitude of his starting position to intercept the letter when the divisions are exactly twenty-five kilometers apart.
c. If, ten minutes in, the western division may dispatch one surveillance kunoichi with a range radius of eighty meters, state and draw the most optimal path she can take to quickest detect and report a spy of any path.
What. Just... what?
I yanked my hair. I turned the page. Blank. End of math.
I glanced up at the clock. An hour left. I still had other sections, but once I turned to the next page, I could not go back to math. I looked at the teacher in front, who was reading the news to pass the time. I looked across the room. To my left, Tamaki sat in concentration. I could hear Hana pace herself well, not a single pause in her pencil strokes. Somewhere behind, Gin was drumming with his eraser and groaning. At least I was not the only one struggling.
And then...
Michio was leaning back, balancing the tip of a pen on his nose. His test booklet was closed.
He was done?
He noticed I was looking at him and winked. I broke eye contact. I returned to my test.
According to Shisui and Itachi, this test was only half of my total exam score. Shisui had told me not to worry; I just needed at least fifty points on the written part, and I'd be fine.
I flipped through the pages. Half a point, half a point, one point... I blinked.
The last question was worth forty-nine points? I slammed my head on the table. Once I calmed down, I peeled the exam off my forehead.
My eyes widened. The last question was magically answered. Or rather, it was answered then badly erased, since you could still see everything. And that was not my handwriting. Confused, I tried to erase the markings, but they did not go away.
Okay. I was losing it. I was going crazy. Last week, I was shot with one fire arrow too many and got a concussion. Or maybe it was the math itself. No more. I was done. History time.
I flipped to History, and found every question already had a choice circled. A, A, B, D, A...
Now my heart was pounding, wondering whether or not to tell the teachers. I closed my eyes, then reopened them. The test was new again, not a pencil mark in place. What the...
I did not have time to think about it.
Students began handing in their exams and leaving the room. By the time I handed in mine and left the room, Hana was waiting for me.
"How'd it go? You seemed pretty stressed half way."
I laughed nervously. "I probably should have gotten more sleep."
"And I should have read about the second Daimyo." Tamaki growled as she entered the hallways with us. "Number thirty was eight hundred years right?"
"That's what I put," Hana said, pocketing her hands. "You're out earlier than usual."
"Either I knew it or I didn't. Some I definitely did not know," Tamaki said bitterly. Written tests were her forte. They were how she kept top rank. I could tell she was not happy. "Seals origin, C?"
"C," Hana confirmed. "You got the ordering for the clone?"
"No, I only studied what we went over in review. What was with that math one?"
Hana exhaled. "Oh, that. The points looked tempting but it was just a time distractor. I tried part A. I skipped B and C because it was best to invest my time elsewhere."
"Can you explain to me A? I tried a picture, but it became too much."
Nodding, Hana unclipped her backpack and took out a notebook. "How I approached it, I plotted only the major intervals. After conversion, I turned these three as rates with this number divided by this number, then calculated this distance with alpha as my placeholder..." Hana dragged a pencil across the papers, writing down columns upon columns of numbers and symbols. Tamaki squatted down, trying to understand.
"That's wrong. It isn't one continuous path, so the time of contact would be off on both sides."
We turned to the new voice.
"Michio!" Tamaki stood up, fixing her clothes and hair.
Michio grinned. "For that problem, the staircase method would be the shortcut. Just find the points of intersection."
Hana stopped and examined him. "I have not introduced myself," she said, offering a hand. "Inuzuka Hana."
Michio returned her handshake with a firm grip. "Michio."
"I'm sorry," Hana said, furrowing her eyebrows. She circled him. Her nose wrinkled. "But what village are you from?"
"Where do you think I'm from?"
"I can't tell."
"Sure you can!" Michio laughed. "Go with your senses!"
Hana stiffened. She straightened and forced a smile, before turning to me. "Ayae, I'm going to use the bathroom before the physical. You want to come? Tamaki?"
Tamaki shook her head. She looked at Michio. "Ah, so how did the testing go...?" she asked him, her fingers curling with the edges of her pigtails.
"Quite well. Though I would be fortunate to score as high as an intelligent lady like you..."
I went to the bathroom to gag.
The door closed behind us. Hana washed her hands.
"Ayae, how do you know that person?" she asked.
"Who, Michio?"
"Yeah."
"Uh, long story short, he came back home with me after my trip."
"So a friend?"
"Yes?"
Hana looked troubled, like there was something else she wanted to ask me.
"Is there something wrong with Michio?" I asked.
Hana looked at me from the mirror reflection. She turned off the faucet and leaned against the counter. "I guess it's not my business. Why don't you wash up?" She nodded at all the smudges of pencil lead on my hands.
I did.
"Be careful, okay?" Hana said on her way out. She left for the fields to warm up for the physical, while I went back down the halls to join my friends.
Since the testing time was up, most of the class was crowded in the hallways. There a lot of noise and chatter.
Gin was in his own cluster of friends. Tamaki and the girls were in theirs. Michio had left.
"That was bad! A, C, C, C, C? Can you get four Cs in a row?" Setsu asked nervously.
Dai frowned. "I got A, C, D, C, A for that part."
"B, C, C, D, A," Ayame said.
Tamaki looked confident in her own answers. "It's definitely A, C, C, D, D. What you'd get, Ayae? Section eight?" she asked as soon as I joined.
"Uh, is that Lit?"
"Yeah."
"I don't remember." I laughed, causing much head hanging.
"I'm worried I'm not going to pass," Setsu said, biting down on her lower lip. "I usually do worse on physicals too..."
"There were over a hundred fifty points on the test," Ayame said. "One third and you're okay."
"NO MORE FRACTIONS!"
We all agreed.
The physical exam was easier. Hand signs, I messed up the order a little, but I did not think my proctor noticed. The sprint, I had no problems. Of the five laps, I finished in the front with Gin, Hana beating both of us by a hair. Michio was in a comfortable first place, waiting at the finish line.
As soon as I finished, gasping for breath, Michio jumped on me for a giant hug. Gin was taken aback. He demanded to know my new, uh, friend.
I was saved by the whistle. We left for the next test site. Along the way, I gave Gin my abridged summary of Miyako and Michio.
By abridged, I meant abridged. "Uh, um, so I went with my dad to see this river, and this kid lived there, and we met, and err... now he's here."
"So a transfer student?"
"I guess?"
The next test was balance. The test setup was different than expected. In class, we usually tied a rope between two posts in the fields, the rope half a meter above the ground. Now, it was over a running river.
"You have to keep trying, Setsu," Tamaki urged, but Setsu was crying from the first time she fell in. Soaked and shivering, she ran away.
"They are testing you on the number of tries you need." Hana observed the proctors and watched them scribble something down when the next student fell in. "There's no rush. It's not timed."
Beside her, Minoji and I nodded.
Since I was usually called last, I could watch everyone else go first. Dai passed after two tries. Gin fell, but he only needed one more try. He had rushed too much, trying to be impressive. Ayame needed one try. Hana finished with ease on her first try. Tamaki advanced slowly and finished on her first try. Minoji got it on his first try as well.
Most students need two times to get through. The students who could balance passed the first time. The bad ones, never. Usually by the fifth time, teachers called it off. Some refused to try even once.
Blue Hair did not quit. I smiled when she fell in her second time.
Most of the students were drenched by the time my name was called. I stepped onto the rope, and went in two meters easily. My problem came in the middle, when the rope started sagging. The rush of water splashed my ankles. My heart pounding, I thought would fall when my knees started shaking. Thankfully, I had enough practice in rope exercises with Ms. Hyuuga to pull through.
When I finished, I ran back across the plank bridge.
Another name was called. I realized I was no longer last on their list.
Michio kicked off his boots. Every student watched, curious. No one took off their shoes. I was not sure that was allowed, because I felt going barefoot would have been easier. The proctors were about to speak up too, until they saw what Michio was about to do.
He cartwheeled across the rope, touching the rope with a single finger or toe. He ended with a triple dip spin in the air, a graceful landing, and a bow. The students whispered at the performance. Some clapped.
When Michio returned, he gave the girls a wink, causing much giggles. The girls were not the only ones with something to say. The boys started complaining. They said it was unfair that Michio took off his shoes. The proctors decided they were not going to make Michio redo it.
As for me, I braced myself for another hug, and found myself... not hugged.
Michio passed me without a look. Girls approached him.
"Oh wow, where did you learn how to do that!"
"That was so cool!"
"Where are you from?"
"Are you really part of the Uchiha clan?"
Michio soaked up the attention.
I was caught off guard. In Miyako, Michio spoke like a five year old, cuddling against my arm at every opportunity. Now, he was fifteen, with his trench coat slung over his shoulder. He looked… cool.
The last physical was shuriken practice. It was humiliating. I got one shuriken to stick on the wooden post. And eight in the grass. One of those eight may or may not have accidentally stabbed my proctor in the foot. My friends and I winced. My bad.
Michio shined again. With a single flick of his wrist, every shuriken lined up in a perfect line down the post.
By the time the exam ended, Michio had his own fanclub. He wore his crown as president and had three girls under his arms.
That was when I heard the gossip that spread like fire: the Uchiha were back, ready to rule the school once more.
.
A mechanical frog leaped on my bed.
"Ya! So cute!"
"Hey! How'd you get in?" I dropped my backpack.
Michio was plopped on his belly in my bed. To answer my question, he pointed to my nonexistent roof. The nonexistent roof that had been fantastic for endless bird poop, late night star-gazing, and a second door for anyone who wanted to drop by.
I knocked Michio off my bed. A week in Konoha, and he had flirted with every girl in our school. He got a reputation as The Peculiar Uchiha: dashing, bold, and exotic.
He was also currently holding the bump on his head, crying like a toddler. If only the fangirls could see their prince charming now.
"You've got some explaining to do," I deadpanned.
"Explainin' o' wa?"
"Of this." I tossed him the notes of my classmates. Some had asked me if Michio liked them, if I knew any secrets about him, or if I could set them up with him. Others gave me blatant confession notes to give to him.
Michio read one of the notes and giggled. "Aw, cute."
"Not cute!" I exclaimed. "Not cute at all!"
"Jealous?"
"No! You can't just go around kissing people. People get worked up about things like this, and you'll hurt their feelings!"
"Hm... okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay," Michio said, smiling. "I'll stop if you tell everyone you're my girlfriend."
I wanted to nail his head with my ballet shoes. "No."
He hopped back onto my bed, sitting in butterfly. "Why not?"
"Because I don't like-like you!"
Michio pouted. "What about me, Ayae?" His voice dropped, his hair turning black and his skin pale.
I slammed a pillow at him to stop the henge. He poofed back to normal.
"I don't get it!" he cried. "Don't you at least like Itachi dearest? But you two have not said anything to each other since we got here!"
Wrong. I did say "Hi" to Itachi when Aunt Mikoto invited my dad and me over for the weekend. She had moved back, and the main house was lit with life again. My dad gave a melon as our welcome back gift. Even better, Itachi said "Hi" back, before he left to fix his mission backlog. After two years of silence, that exchange of "Hi" was the peak of sparkling friendship.
"Where are you going?" Michio asked when I went back to the door.
"My dance competition's the day after. I'm off to practice." I only came home to pick up my shoes.
Michio self-invited himself, following me to the studio. We took a detour, because the clan was busy settling back in. The district was super full. Michio had moved in with Shisui's family. Tomoe lived by the lake. Otoha and the cat boarded with Tomoe.
As we walked, Michio's metal bracelets jingled with every hop he made. He mimicked my dad's toy frog. When we were out of the district, I slowed down so he would not lose me. The village was still new to him.
Only, he did not seem worried about getting lost. Along the way, he buried his nose in the notes I had passed to him.
"I like these," he said, shuffling through them. "Konoha girls are smart."
"Think so?"
"Yeah, smart people know to date me."
I threw my backpack at him and marched ahead. He strapped on my backpack on and carried it for me.
Michio went through the rest of the notes. He took his time, unfolding them one by one. He stopped at one.
"I like this one."
Out of curiosity, I glanced over his shoulder. The handwriting was familiar. 'Hey Ayae, just wondering, what do you know about Michio? Where is he from? When is his birth date?'
"Can I have her?"
"Tamaki?!" I exclaimed. "No!"
"Why not?"
Because she was my best friend! And Tamaki did not like Michio. She was just curious. That would happen if a kid with strange skin and hair suddenly popped up in school and pretended to own the place.
Michio smirked.
"This one's super smart," he said, slapping the note. "I bet Itachi dearest knows her name."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "Tamaki's my best friend. Of course they know each other."
"Best friend?" He whistled. "So already a foot into our door. I don't think I'm comfortable with my honey doll playing games with her. You'll definitely lose. You're too dumb."
"HEY—!"
He shut my protest with a kiss. Giggling, he said, "Or maybe the endearing term would be too honest."
I punched. "I'm not stupid. And don't insult my friends!"
"You mistaken. Michi no diss friends. Michi just no like how honey doll is not first. That is not super-duper fantastically awesome. That is not even normal awesome."
"I'm working on it," I said.
"Well, work faster," he said. "I was shocked to see Uchiha not first, Hyuuga not first, but Inuzuka. "
"Hana? She's—"
"Had I not shown up, she would have ranked number one of your year."
I stopped. "How did you know Hana's first?"
He raised an eyebrow. "It's not obvious? Honey doll, I took the examination with you. Had I not been there, Inuzuka Hana would have placed one with a bar score of 229. Your best friend would have placed five with 168. And you—"
"Wait, I passed, right?"
"You silly. The school standard is so low, only three people failed. Even the worst I've seen have 105 or above. You are ninth, right below that boy you like to spend time with. If only you accepted Michi's help on that test, you could have been number two next to me, push Inuzuka down to third place."
My jaw dropped. "GIN BEAT ME?"
"By two points."
"GIN BEAT ME BY TWO POINTS?" I demanded, grabbing Michio's shirt. It was not even one point? It was two?
"Funny, ya? His test sucked, didn't even pass four of the five sections, but his physical beat yours by twenty!"
"How? He fell into the river!"
"And you scored a one on your shuriken final, honey doll. You lucky the proctor no give you negative points."
I threw my hands up in the air. I could not believe Gin beat me. I was so sure that I had tied, if not bested him this time. I went to Miyako! I got advanced Uchiha training! Itachi tutored me and drilled eighty dead people's lousy poetry into my brain! How could I have lost to Gin!
Well, his shuriken was good. And his knowledge of ninjutsu was extensive. And he was fast. And his balance was not that bad. And he did have an older brother to help him out. And unlike me, he did stay in Konoha to review instead of vacation. And—oh, it was a miracle I stood a chance.
I realized something. I turned to Michio. "Wait, how did you know any of this?" Exam scores did not come out until break.
Michio pocketed his hands. "It no hard to figure out."
"What did you get?"
A mischievous smile. "Michi do okay."
"What is okay?"
He flickered ahead and opened the door of my ballet studio for me. "Okay is a score acceptable enough to converse with the future clan lady."
"Which is...?" I was curious now. Knowing him, I guessed two hundred plus. He bested Hana. He was number one on the physical, no contest. Including the written, I guessed a total of 240, maybe.
"Is 300 high enough to watch m'lady dance?"
My jaw hit the floor.
Three hundred was a perfect score. This kid did not even go to my school, and he got a perfect score.
"T-that's... good," I choked out.
"Hm, not good enough, is it?"
"Not good enough?"
He cocked his head. "Maybe okay for school, so-so for clan. But definitely not good enough to steal the future clan lady, not when the clan heir perfected all three of his bar examinations at the age of seven."
I was sputtering when he leaned in, a smirk on his lips. He was in henge again, his voice smooth.
"But no worries, Ayae, I have other things that he just does not have."
"You're crazy." I knocked him out of his Itachi henge.
"Ayae, honey doll, you're in the Uchiha clan." He laughed, pushing me into the studio. "We're not crazy. We're insane!"
.
My dance lesson went horribly.
Michio stole the entire spotlight, from the minute he waltzed in to the minute he chasséd out.
Why. Why was I not surprised to learn Michio could dance, even if he knew nothing about ballet.
What he did know was a series of wicked dance steps such as the Suna sand twister and the Kumo electric slide. And yes, it was cool. It was more than cool. It was super-duper fantastically awesome. I wanted to be like every girl in the studio and beg him to show me the moves.
Where I drew the line, though, was when Ms. Hyuuga asked him to be our cavalier. Michio beamed. He bumped my dance partner aside and swung an arm around me. "Can I be the prince of this swan?"
Over my dead body!
The next day, I practiced dance from eight in the morning until the studio closed. By the time I ran home, the sun was going down fast.
I waved to my uncles at the district gate. They usually never paid attention to me. After we came back from Miyako, they were nice for a while. But since today was a Saturday, they returned to their old habits. They lazily glanced at me when I ran on in.
I preferred it that way. I didn't like how they stared at the necklace Itachi gave me. Or how they began calling me "miss" instead of "you." Worse, "the future clan lady," instead of "girl." Eventually, I could not take the staring anymore and kept the ring hidden under my shirt at all times. In school, I took it off altogether, since I would be crawling through mud and leaves.
My house was in sight. Just as I touched the door, I heard, "Sorry squirt, gotta kidnap ya!"
I got scooped up like a package.
Before I knew it, I was blinded by fabric and scissors, then plopped down at a fancy square table, wearing a style of clothing that was older than the grandmas.
"Hi."
I tossed all three layers of the itchy, unbreathable clothes off me. "Hi."
"I apologize, but this will be lengthy. Please bear with it," Itachi said, bowing his head. He gave me with a cup of hot tea.
I grabbed it out of his hand and set it down on the table. "Okay, what is going on?" I asked.
I was inside a temple. While Itachi and I knelt at the table, people moved around us. Otoha was there, dressed in a tank and slacks, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She did little to help the people carrying this, unloading that, plopping this, taking away that, lighting this lamp, pushing in those barrels.
Otoha just read. Only when everyone else left did she close her book. She stuck the cup back in my hand. "Have fun," she said, giving me a thump on the back of my head.
"Hey—"
The temple door closed.
It was just Itachi and me.
As much as I loved spending time with him, what I had in mind was not this.
"Okay, what's going on," I asked.
He smiled apologetically. "Forgive me, Ayae, but we must do this is once a week. Unfortunately, our actions are also under surveillance."
"What!" I looked up at the roof of the temple, then down at the table before me. I felt doomed when I saw an ink stone on the left and a dish of tea leaves on my right. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Just mimic my movements, and it will be fine. Tea or ink?"
"You have got to be kidding me," I repeated.
I pointed to ink stone.
Itachi nodded. His fingers touched the ink stone on his side of the table. He went slowly, so that I could catch up and copy him as he made ink.
"How was your dance," he asked.
"Good, considering who didn't show up this time."
"I presume you speak of... Michio, I should say."
I waved my ink stick. "Can you believe him? He got my dance after one glance! Not only that, he's number one in school after showing up for a lousy week!"
"You find this disagreeable."
"Yes! Someone like him shouldn't exist in real life! Perfect sparkly people should only exist in Setsu's romance novels."
A chuckle. "Michio is talented at certain things, yes. But perhaps you take more notice of him in this manner because his talents coincide with your interests more than the talents of others."
"And what's your excuse," I mumbled. He mixed in the water and blended the ink. I stared at my own clumpy mess. I did not want to know how badly this would turn out.
"Practice is not the same as talent," he said.
"So let me get this straight. When you're not busy fighting evil ninjas or escorting princesses, you practice making ink."
"Amongst other things."
Well, this answered the question about his hobbies. I bet flower arranging and watching wet paint dry were on that list too.
I madly stirred the horrid concoction was in front of me. Whatever it was, it did not look like the smooth blend of ink in front of Itachi.
He smiled at my try. He shook his head and politely nudged my work aside. He offered his to be shared.
He wiped his hands and traced his fingers across the brushes.
He picked the third one. The brush was not more narrow or fat, round or flat, than the rest. I was about to grab a brush too when his hand blocked mine.
"It is not wise to leave evidence behind." He gestured to the damp cloth. Rolling my eyes, I cleaned my hands until I could see my skin again.
When we both had a brush and parchment, Itachi dipped the tip of his brush into the ink.
"We begin with clerical style," he said, mapping out each stroke for me, four in all. When his brush left the parchment, there was the word 'tree.' It was nice. Symmetric enough to sell on the market at a good price.
Itachi unrolled his scroll more and dipped his brush. His hands glided above the parchment, and in one continuous, elegant movement, fast and fluid, fierce and controlled, snaked out a different word that ended with a sharp curve and a graceful lift of a tail.
'Dragon.' And it looked like one trapped in the paper.
"Grass style. We will cumulate here."
He encouraged me to try. Unfortunately, I never used ink in my life. He had to teach me how to grip the brush and guide me every step of the way. He made writing look so easy. I, on the other hand, took art and ran it under a bulldozer.
So what if I dipped my brush in too deep. So what if I accidentally dripped ink all over the table. So what if the ink bled everywhere and my lines merged into one, and I had to dip again, and the order of my strokes were wrong and I went back over my work, which only made it worse. So what if the word was hideous and BAD. It was not like I needed this for anything.
… which was why I was furiously writing 'tree' over and over again until I got it right.
I was so mad that a boy was beating me in one of the girliest skills in life, right behind flower arranging and tea making.
I accidentally knocked the ink over the table. The ink would have dripped down and stained my clothes had the droplets not suspended in air. With the lift of a finger, Itachi made the ink return to the dish.
I kept going, unrolling more clean parchment. A hand touched mine.
Itachi appeared by my side. Wordlessly, he brought my hand up and dipped the brush into the dish. It was gentle enough that there was no drip. I thought he would help me write the word too, but he let go of my hand, and made me do it on my own. I worked slowly, dragging four lines. The word was crooked but clean enough for me to call it a day.
"You know, you never answered my question," I said, wiping my hands. The cloth was black now. I had black cracks in my hands, from the lines on my palms to the edges of my fingernails. I wondered how that happened. If I only touched the brush, how did I get ink on me? Of course, Itachi's hand was clean.
"Which one?"
"What is going on? Why are we here?"
"There are prerequisites for the clan lady," he said, storing away the inks in jars. He cleaned up quickly, washed every hair of my brush, took care of the tip, and wiped the handle. "The elders insisted you be prepared with the necessary skills. I took the responsibility to make sure those requirements were met."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Itachi needed to use more kid-friendly words. "So this is what the clan lady does? Write tree over and over again?" I had higher expectations. Like fancy powers and quests and old wizard mentors.
Ah, but no. I just write 'tree.' Maybe in the next lesson, I would make some famous-Uchiha-grandpapa-specialty-hot-spice-drink. And afterwards, some flower arranging. I just knew flower arranging was going to be there.
No wonder Tomoe did not want this job.
"You may choose the word next time, if you wish. I only wanted to familiarize you with the basic four types of strokes today." Itachi made hand signs. The temple door unbolted with a loud click.
When we stepped outside, the sun was hidden behind the houses. Itachi looked at the flight of stairs below us. I jumped to his side and tilted my head. Well, we heading off or not?
Itachi did not move. He looked both amused and troubled at the same time. "Ayae," he said finally, looking at me, "I do believe I will have to cheat and ask for your opinion."
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Three steps ahead or three steps behind?"
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. What kind of a stupid question was that?
"Are you asking me if I should go first, or you?" I asked in disbelief, pointing down the stairs.
"Yes."
Did that matter?
I doubted Itachi really cared who walked down first. Nonetheless, he seemed interested in the answer.
At first I could not figure out why he was asking me something so stupid. Then I realized we spent hours cooped up in a traditional temple doing traditional calligraphy in the traditional method. Emphasis on the tradition.
I had to hold back laughing.
"Well, if you're trying to go noble on me, isn't it the rule that the guy goes first?"
Itachi nodded. "The woman grants the man the honor of walking three steps ahead," he said. "But why would tradition state that so?"
"Isn't it obvious? The boy wants to be brave, and the girl is smart. When the guy goes in front, if there are booby traps or anything, it'll be on him, and she's safe."
He agreed. "The man gains her trust of protection when the woman walks three steps behind. However, is it wise to have the person you are to protect behind you?"
I blinked. Well, no. That would be stupid. You cannot even see her. So if someone snuck up from behind, unless you looked back often, you would not even know someone attacked her. Nor are you in a good position to be defending her. "Uh, can I take that back? Ladies first."
"So the woman should venture first."
No, I just said you never want to go first, because of booby traps! This was kunoichi seminar 101; never go into foreign terrain first if you do not have to. And it sounded cowardly for the guy to hide behind the girl, or push her to take the bait while he runs.
Soon, I found myself in the same problem he was in. You get her front, you expose her back, you get her back, and you expose her front. I pounded my fist into my palm. "I got it! You clone yourself, and take both front and back!"
"Would that resolve the situation?"
Okay, it was a stupid thought.
But now that Itachi got me thinking about this, I found I had another problem. If I walked ahead, I would not hate not being able to see him, scared that he would be gone by the time I turned around. But I did not like Itachi walking ahead neither, like he would only go further and further ahead and I would not be able to catch up.
I frowned.
Finally, I said, "Itachi, I'm hungry. Can we figure this out after we eat?" And with that, I grabbed his hand and ran down the stairs.
As we ran, he held up our linked hands, his right and my left. "Is the most optimal position?"
"Sure it is! I'm right handed!"
He raised an eyebrow.
When we both landed at the bottom, I said, "I don't know about front or back, but I do know I should always take the right side. That way, if anyone attacks us, I can use my stronger hand to protect you!"
And thus, I dragged us to dinner. Itachi never ate dinner at my house before. I did not think Aunt Mikoto would mind if I stole him for the rest of the day.
.
I kissed the piece of paper.
Final score: 138 out of 300, rank nine. Even with lousy throwing skills, I was above the average, 129. Teacher Funeno was proud, and so was I, because starting this spring, I, Uchiha Ayae, was that much closer to being a kunoichi.
To celebrate, I went to eat ramen with Gin and Ayame. Unfortunately, Ayame had some bad news that hit me harder than a concrete block.
"I think I'm going to drop out," she said.
"What! Why?" I exclaimed, break apart my chopsticks. "You have 109! You passed!"
She winced. "Rank eighteen."
"That's good! Come on, if Blue Hair can do it, you have to."
"But there's the 3-3-3 rule," she sighed. "I don't stand much of a chance if I'm in the middle."
"The 3-3-3 rule?"
Gin pulled down his cap. "Usually only a third of students make it to genin, and even then, only one third of them go to chuunin."
I zoned out, my brain frying to do that math.
"That's usually three teams," Gin and Ayame said.
Ooh. So another three in the 3-3-3. Clever.
"How did you fail the math section?" I asked Gin. Ayame handled the cashier, so I could understand if she could do math quickly.
"Because it was boring," he said. "I spent all my time trying that bogus forty-niner."
"Anyway," said Ayame, "three teams have been the norm, although some years had only one or two. That's a max of nine students."
I set my ramen bowl down. I was ninth. That meant...
"I barely make the cutoff?!" And I thought I was in good shape! I thought nine was lucky! But ninth was last?
"Well, not exactly."
I learned that Konoha did not team the strongest three, then the next three, and so forth. Instead, they paired the best students with the worst, so all teams balanced out. If there were nine students, then the teams would be split so ranks 1, 5, and 9 were together, followed by 2, 6, and 7, and 3, 4, 8. As long as you graduated, even as dead last, you stood a chance.
Ayame was really good at math. Using all the scores, she redid the average. For the expected twenty-seven graduating students, the average would be 144, and of the rookie nine, 183. I was way below par.
"Can you figure out the teams so far?" Gin asked, chewing on a piece of crab cake.
Gin and I exchanged a look. While we liked our table teams, we also made a pact to be on the same genin team if we could.
"Well, if the rankings remain as they are..." Ayame took out a napkin and drew a chart.
1, 14, 27
2, 18, 22
3, 13, 26
4, 17, 21
5, 12, 25
6, 16, 20
7, 11, 24
8, 15, 19
9, 10, 23
Gin and I frowned. I was nine, but Gin was eight. We were separated.
"But you're dropping out," Gin said.
Ayame nodded. Nothing was set. New people could come to the Academy, some could drop out.
"Huh, looks like the closest are nine and ten," Gin told me, pointing to the two closest rankings that were still on the same team.
"If so, you guys might even get Tamaki on your team," Ayame said, pointing to the 23 position.
"No way. Tamaki's all the way in six," I said.
"Actually, she's aiming high now, but for senior year she plans to take a slot in the twenties."
I gawked. But that made no sense!
"Damn, I didn't think of it like that," Gin said, eyebrows shot up.
"What—"
"Look!"
Gin circled the 1 and 14, and went down the first two columns. "No matter how you look at it, if you take a bottom number, you get paired with the best combo of students on your team."
I looked carefully at the first row and understood. The dead last spot was great if the top student got to be on your team. So Tamaki would try for 27 just to get Michio. Even spot 22 looked good, because you had Hana. Overall, the last nine spots were good, while the first nine were not.
"But wait, wouldn't this whole thing be pointless if everyone tried rigging their spot?" I asked.
Ayame shook her head. "Some don't know about this, some don't care. And some would strive for first anyway."
"Clan pride," Gin scoffed.
"So are we going for nine and ten, or not?" I asked Gin, confused.
He thought it over a slurp of ramen. He nodded. "Yeah, I think we'd be good together."
I agreed, and kept the nine and ten numbers in mind, as well as the eighteen slot with Hana. Tamaki's idea of going very low was brilliant but risky.
"You sure you're quitting?" I asked Ayame after we finished our celebratory ramen.
"Not really," she said, clearing our bowls. "I have to talk it over with Dad. But I don't think ninja is right for me." She was not the physical type and did not like training. I hated the idea of her leaving, but I could understand.
I, on the other hand, made a resolve to push harder. I had not realized how far behind I was. To be serious about being a ninja, I should have scored at least 183.
Gin and I hopped down from our stools.
"Bye, Ayame! Thanks for the food!" I shouted.
Ayame smiled and waved back.
As Gin and I walked through the streets, someone in the distance got our attention. He had a giant hat and gown, the swirl of red flames, and a pipe. The Hokage!
People in the streets bowed whenever he strolled past. So did we. I wondered what he was doing in the streets.
The Hokage turned a corner.
Gin and I exchanged a glance. We doubled back and turned the corner as well, following the Hokage. As the strongest person in our village, the Hokage must do cool things. If we were lucky, maybe we could find secrets, or catch him doing awesome jutsu, or learn ancient wisdom, or watch him buy... a melon?
We both stared as he stood before a melon chart. He went through a lot of strange, oblong melons that were yellow and orange. He pressed one to his ear and gave a solid pat. He weighed a few in his palm, and turned over overs, looking at the rind. We waited five minutes before he found one he liked. It was roundish and big. He paid the vendor and set off.
"Maybe it's a magical melon?" I told Gin, shrugging.
We scrambled to the melon stand to get a closer look. Gin pressed a melon to his ear and started patting, as if that would give him powers. But they were, well, normal melons.
Gin set the melon down.
We continued stalking the Hokage, who disappeared behind a shoe store. It was there that we saw him... picking up his laundry?
The day went on the same way. After he bought his melon and picked up his laundry, he put the former on a table, hung the latter on his chair, and relaxed over a cup of tea. Then he had lunch, which was deer-tail grass, some type of fungi soup, sardines soaked in pickled soybeans, and a side of seaweed salad. Gin was meticulous in writing down everything in his notepad, right down to the order the Hokage ate the food.
After that, the Hokage put on his hat, picked up his melon and laundry, and set off again to talk to pretty women outside of the hot springs inns.
Gin took one of the advertisement posters hanging on a nearby bulletin board and rolled it up to make a sound amplifier. We crawled into a nearby bush and eavesdropped.
They talked mostly about the weather. Just the right temperature with just the right amount of sun and clouds, the winter chilliness gone, but not yet boiling. The Hokage smoked his pipe as the girls talked about their lives. One was preparing a baby shower for her sister. The other found a job and moved into a new apartment with her boyfriend.
"How do you write apartment?" Gin whispered to me, as he jotted down the whole conversation.
I told him to not ask me for help on writing, except maybe the kanji for tree.
By the time we stopped arguing whether the times the Hokage nodded was more or less important than the colors of the women's dresses, the Hokage was already gone. We scrambled out of the bush.
It was somewhere here that I started questioning the usefulness of our investigation. My doubt got shot down, because, come on, this was the Hokage. His head was on our cliffs. He breathed awesomeness.
Right?
Well, our investigation led to another conversation with a shoe repairman about their grandsons. Then an herbal medicine shop, where the druggist eyed a certain weed the Hokage wanted examined under a magnifying glass. It turned out to be authentic what-a-what plant that boosted the flavor in meat at the cost of constipation. Then he went shopping and bought a bottle of cold milk, careful to find the one with the longest expiration date. At a magazine store, he scanned a medical book on ginseng as well as a few magazines on swimsuit models and pop singer celebrities.
"What do you mean this isn't awesome research?" Gin asked me. We hid behind the comics section.
"Milk?"
"Hey, don't knock the cal-ceum. Gives you strong bones." Gin flexed his arm. Needless to say, Gin also bought a bottle of milk back at the store, as well as a melon.
"Or maybe this is just a random stroll into the village? I say we stop acting like stalkers and let him enjoy his day."
"Ayae, Ayae, Ayae," Gin said, shaking his head. "We've just scratched the surface of genius and you want to give up now?"
"It's a damn melon!" I shouted, holding the oblong melon to his face. "There's nothing special about it. My dad buys these all the time."
"Look, I know what we're doing. You trust your judgment, or mine?" Just as I was about to open my mouth, he smugly turned his cap and reminded, "I did beat you by two points."
BAH!
The day ended with a trip to the orphanage. The Hokage went into the building, and came out with his melon rolling in a bowl.
The Hokage placed down the bowl, his hat, his bottle of milk, and his laundry. He took a seat below an oak.
He focused on the melon and skewed it a bit. From his sleeve, he took out an iron nail and smashed it into the fruit.
The melon exploded into many cubical slices. He finished by poking several toothpicks in each piece. The Hokage savored one piece, chewing slowly. Then he smiled, tucked his hands in, and closed his eyes, as if to go to sleep.
There were shy gazes from the windows of the orphanage. All at once, the children rushed out, their footsteps pitter-pattering as each one grabbed a piece of melon from the bowl.
The Hokage's smile widened. He peeked open an eye, then snapped it close again. Just as quickly, the children dashed back into the building with the melon in their mouths.
Only one kid remained behind. He took the extra scrap pieces and stuffed them into his mouth. Naruto flipped over the bowl, found no more melon, and frowned. Instead of going back with the other children, he crawled down and poked the Hokage. "Hey, you brought more?"
The Hokage did not open his eyes.
"Hey, old man!"
The Hokage stayed still and sleeping.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!"
When there was no response again, Naruto kicked him.
I cringed when Naruto kicked him again and again. "HEY! I know you're there! Old man!"
When the Hokage toppled over onto the ground, Naruto jumped back. Naruto narrowed his eyes and pouted. He grabbed the bottle of milk by the Hokage's side.
He started running away. "Hey, hey, I got your milk!" Naruto sneered, running further away, shaking the bottle of milk. He was already halfway across the field, when he turned around and saw the Hokage had not moved.
Naruto lowered the bottle, stomped back, and put on the Hokage's hat.
"Look, I'm wearing your stupid hat!"
When Naruto still did not get any reaction, he stomped up and down. "Old man, stop pretending to be dead!"
He threw the hat at the Hokage. It smacked on the Hokage's face.
Nothing.
And now, Naruto was scared.
"Old man?" Really scared. Naruto approached the body on the grass and poked him one last time. "O-old man? Y-you're n-not r-really d—"
"BOO!" The Hokage sprang back to life and scared the daylight out of both Naruto and me.
Laughing, the Hokage sat upright, straightening his hat. "Ah, I can't take a nap around you, now can I?"
"OLD MAN!"
The Hokage laughed, even as Naruto gave more childish punches. "DON'T DO THAT!"
Naruto did not stop venting until the Hokage tucked his pipe back between his lips and chuckled. "I have something for you, Naruto."
That got his attention. "You do? What! What is it!"
The Hokage just glanced at the laundry. Naruto zipped open the bag and took out the hanger. On it were a set of clothes, with a cotton white shirt, pants, and an orange jacket.
"No way!" he shouted, unhooking the jacket and trying it on. It was a little big.
"Take good care of it, Naruto," the Hokage said. "Because starting next month, you're going to school."
Naruto's eyes went wide. "What! No way! That's so cool—!"
A thought struck him. He looked over his shoulder, staring hard at the orphanage. "Wait, but can I leave, old man?"
The answer was enough to make him gulp hard, then tackle the Hokage in a hug.
It was getting dark fast. Gin and I left. As I looked back on the orphanage, I could not believe how much Naruto had changed. It had been years, but now he could walk, he could talk, he was every bit as rude as Sasuke was.
Meanwhile, Gin walked me home and shared his bottle of milk. He tucked away his notepad and told me his new goal: to one day live the life of a Hokage. You know, when he was not busy training or fighting bad guys or saving the village and stuff.
.
I put my dance trophy on my desk. Second place.
Over break, I had gotten more calligraphy lessons with Itachi. I also got a billion bruises with Gin, a few scabs, and one really bad haircut.
Shisui jumped up the ladder and got a ninja promotion. He also officially joined the Uchiha Police Force. I heard rumors that Tomoe got jouninship too. She finished school in less than an hour, and I hate her for it.
Thus, with everyone else running ahead, I was so fishflipping ready for school that I woke up one whole hour early, ate half a dozen pancakes, and—
"Hi."
My gaze fell down to the mop of black hair. At my door, Sasuke glared at me, his lips in a pout. In his hand was a note.
'Beautiful day, squirt. As of today, you are officially the conductor of the Shisui-Itachi-Michio-Ayae-Sasuke express.
'– your former conductor, captain Shisui.
'P.S. Watch out for the small one. He bites.'
"Ehh?" But before I could run for my life, there was a jingle of bangles. Michio fell from the sky and cartwheeled down.
"And how are you this fine morning," Michio greeted with a bow. He flashed his crooked smile.
My gaze switched back and forth between the two. "What—"
"I already know the way to the Academy," Sasuke said haughtily. "But Mother worries and Brother is busy."
"So I'm your escort?" I asked.
"You? As if," he said, leaving for the gate.
"Why you—" Before I could teach the boy a lesson on manners, Michio flung an arm around me. "Ah ah ah. It ain't wise to hurt the precious darling child of the clan."
And what a precious darling Sasuke was. The elders of our clan gave him a bag of treats, the gate guards bowed in respect, and every villager along the way stopped for a smile. "Ah, little Sasuke, going to school?"
And Sasuke would return a bubbly smile. "Yes, I promise to work hard!"
Oh, I wanted to puke. To comfort my stomach from the sudden overdose of cuteness, Michio snatched the dessert bag from Sasuke. He threw me a seaweed cake.
At school, my ears bled off.
"Oh my gosh, your cousin is so CUTE!"
Here we go again. Was my fate doomed to this?
Then again, maybe it was worth it. I laughed as older girls crowded around Sasuke, squealing and pinching his cheeks, much to his horror.
For the new school year, all the students gathered in the fields again. I found my friends. I was disheartened to see Ayame was not there. She transferred out after all.
"Hey, at least we're together," said Tamaki, and I cheered up.
Even better, I had all my friends in my new class: Tamaki, Gin, Dai, Setsu, Hana… and Michio, who wrapped an arm around my waist.
This was also the first year that I did not get Funeno as my teacher. He switched to teaching first years and hit the Uchiha jackpot—Itachi's little brother. I hoped Funeno would burn Sasuke's butt with pop quizzes as he did with mine.
My new teacher was Teacher Iruka. I had seen him before. He was the man with the long scar across his nose. He said this was his first time teaching a class, though I would not have guessed by how prepared he was.
"Welcome class to your sixth year! Congratulations on making it thus far!" Teacher Iruka announced from the podium. "Last month, everyone here took their first bar examination and passed with flying colors. But as you all know, we must still prepare for the second bar examination at the end of this year."
He handed everyone a rubric and showed how the grading had changed. I scanned the rubric and saw no math. Hoorah!
"Ninjutsu, Taijutsu, Genjutsu, Strategy, Individual, Team, Positivity, Attitude. The eight aspects we teachers look—"
From behind me, Gin's hand snapped up.
"Yes?"
"Does that mean no math?" Gin asked excitedly.
Iruka coughed. "No, mathematics is still important. Recall that the written part accounts for a fourth of your bar examination, and problems will involve calculations."
"But we don't have to learn any more math, right?"
"Well, we will cover algebraic equations and geometry the first term. But past that, no."
And thus, the class cheered. Now this was what I was waiting for. No more indoors busy work. No more tying ropes or survival training. In fact, screw the textbooks! We jumped straight to ninjutsu!
The class awed when he first transformed into the Hokage. Then he made a clone, and punched himself, which turned into a substituted book. Finally, he did the coolest technique yet: he showed us the flicker—blink and you'd miss him.
"We have introduced you all to these ninjutsu in the past. However, because everyone's chakra network develops at different stages of growth, we have not made it necessary to do them. However, starting this year, we will teach everyone how to harness their chakra and perform ninjutsu."
Teacher Iruka kicked it off by asking everyone to substitute, right off the bat. I was so excited I jumped out of my seat.
We lined up.
He guided us one by one. He told us about feeling the chakra in our guts. He told us how to pull it up to our bodies. The hand seals then helped us turn it into the technique that we wanted.
Three hours flew by. People started to create a puff of smoke, or feel a tingle in their hands or toes.
Michio did not need to try. Hana got it nailed within two minutes flat, but she did not like to be bested. From the cuts of her face and arms, I could tell she had trained hard during her break, if only to get her first place title back.
Gin was third in class. He had pulled off substitutions, but it was discouraging to watch him do it, but unable to do it myself. I repeated the hand seals at least a hundred times, but I got nothing.
I got worried because I did not get the smoke. I didn't even get the tingle.
"I don't get it! Iruka said my hand seals could go faster, but I'm not doing anything wrong!" I groaned, slumping on a bench.
Tamaki fell too, exhausted. "Calm down, Ayae. Breathe in and out."
I huffed out my frustration and tried again. And again and again until I was red in the face and constipated-looking. Gin laughed and ruined my concentration.
"Oh shut up." I pouted and threw my summoning scroll at his head.
Hana dropped in. She placed a hand on my shoulder. "Any luck in this corner?"
"Nope," I said, deflated. "Minoji?"
"Nothing," she sighed. Then, seeing my disappointment, she said, "Relax, most students haven't gotten anything yet. People grow at different times. If your chakra system hasn't fully developed, controlling it will be nearly impossible."
"Nearly impossible isn't the same as impossible." Michio landed on top of Tamaki's desk. "Some even argue that an underdeveloped chakra system leads to greater control, because you have less to concentrate on. Itachi dearest started using his chakra since four years old."
Our circle got wider, as Setsu and Dai jumped in, their ears perked. "Really?"
"As far as I know, he mastered fire then."
While my friends were in awe, Hana frowned. "That cannot be healthy. Our chakra nodes are just forming then, and something as advanced as elemental manipulation shouldn't be tried until eight or nine, the earliest."
Michio shrugged. He landed off the table. "You're right. His were far from mature when he used it. But he did anyway, as well as his Sharingan." Then he chuckled, "So I'm not surprised his chakra system got stunted."
I raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Tsking, Michio rested an elbow on my shoulder. "The turtle and the hare, honey doll. Itachi dearest has less than a third of the chakra reserve of anyone in our clan, and the way he's abusing it, it's not going to grow any quicker either."
"You mean—"
"I mean, don't fret. In another ten years or so, you'll rise above him. Above all of us." He flashed another charming smile. "Granted you don't die, that is."
The bell to lunch rang. Michio backflipped and hopped to his feet, shooting both arms up. "Food! Who's with me?"
And he bounced, signing a peace out. A cluster of girls giggled and trailed after him.
Meanwhile, Gin was panicking. "Wait, I've been performing substitution since last year. Did I stunt my growth?"
Hana face palmed. "C-rank elemental control by children of four is potentially detrimental. E-rank substitutions by children of ten are hardly."
"Oh."
After school, Michio disappeared with his fanclub. I decided to be a good girl and pick up the brat downstairs. It felt obligatory, like there was some Uchiha tradition in which the older kids looked out for the younger.
"So, how'd it go?" I asked Sasuke. We left the building together.
"We had a quiz," Sasuke mumbled.
I beamed. First day, and pop quiz already. Oh, Teacher Funeno was my man! I kept my voice calm as I asked, "And...?"
He slapped his test paper to my chest. "It insults my intelligence."
When I stared at his twenty columns of check marks, with a one double-zero circled at the top, my eye twitched. Somehow, it insulted mine as well, and horribly so.
"You cheated," I said, handing the paper back to him.
"As if."
"Yes, you did."
"And why exactly would I need to cheat on this? Anyone with a brain can do it."
"Well, you know, if you keep on using your brain like that, its growth is going to get stunted. And then you'll be stupid like that forever."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"See? You're getting stupider already," I trolled, pacing ahead.
Sasuke grew red-faced and ran to keep up with me. "No, I'm not!"
"Yes, yes you are."
It was too easy. For the next three blocks, Sasuke went on to defend his intelligence, flustered and frustrated, using big words I neither knew nor cared about. And it was fun.
Because unlike Itachi, Sasuke was so easy to upset. Unlike his brother, he was not above sputtering, or hand gestures, or raising his voice. And unlike his brother, he was stumpy in his walk, awkward in his talk, and could not multitask both for his life. I heard a thud behind me.
I turned around to see he had tripped over a crack, fallen flat on the street.
Before I could say anything, he growled, "This proves nothing."
I grinned. No wonder Shisui loved doing this.
