AN: Ok folks.. took a minute to try and plan how this story is going to go. Had to revise a few ideas to fit my timeline. I am now all set to go!
Chapter 8: Little Moo
In a secluded training ground nestled within the dense marches of the Land of Water, two elite Kirigakure ninja face each other. Mist shrouds the area, giving an ethereal quality to the deadly dance about to unfold. The seasoned warriors, both clad in the distinctive attire of the Hidden Mist Village, have chosen this moment to showcase their swordsmanship, slowing down the frenetic pace of their lethal exchanges for the benefit of their keen-eyed apprentices.
The air crackles with tension as the first clash of blades resonates through the mist. Their movements are as fluid as water, reflecting the teachings and the ways of the old. The clang of metal reverberates like haunting music, each strike a testament to years of disciplined training. Their swords, forged in the heart of Kirigakure, or more specifically, Goro Sensei's furnace, gleam with malevolent beauty as they slice through the haze.
The sun bounces off the glistening swords as they clash in an arc, and I shield my eyes with my hands before watching the onslaught with renewed vigor.
A week had passed since Master Goro agreed to our apprenticeship. It was a week of absolute torture.
"Kaguya's tits!" Kisame exclaims next to me over a particularly vicious thrust of the sword. I smack the child over the head.
"Language," I admonish absently as I watch Master Goro's footwork. As they circled each other, the apprentices observe the intricacies of the bout – a mesmerizing blend of precision and deadliness. Goro Sensei, a master of the Silent Killing technique, moves with ghostly silence, his footsteps barely leaving a trace in the dew-laden grass. His blade, an extension of his lethal intent, cuts through the air with a swiftness that belies its size.
Every day, without fail, we are made to run 10 kilometers at sunrise. Every time we stop, we are given something heavy to carry. Yesterday it was a pig. Today, Kisame carried somebody's head. Little shark boy had shrieked when the head was dropped into his lap. I grin.
After running through a very odd obstacle course (that I cannot for the life of me make rhyme or reason of) of Goro Sensei's choosing, we are made to do a number of exercises. Master Goro demonstrated stretching once on the first day that we were told to do before our imposed marathon. We are to do all of these exercises faithfully, without stopping for rest.
Mii-san, his opponent who is a younger but equally formidable ninja, matches Goro Sensei's every move. The clash of steel echoes like thunder as they engage in a deadly waltz. Their eyes lock in a silent exchange of understanding. Each parry, thrust, and counter is executed with a deadly grace that showcases the pinnacle of Kirigakure's renowned swordsmanship.
Mii-san suddenly switches tactics. He has taken to spitting little bullets at Goro-san. Our master cackles violently, shoulders shaking in abandon. "Cute!" he says, cackling.
I shake my head. There is nothing cute about the slices the water bullets have made where Master Goro stood.
The repetition of the number of push-ups I've had to do increased today. I do them without a complaint. Having foreknowledge has warned me enough to assume that in this world, if I want control over my life, and over myself, I must have the power and strength to back it up.
So if Goro Sensei wants to spit the same water bullets at me when I am flagging? I will just have to suck it up and keep going.
After the onslaught of exercises, we are given a bokken each and made to cycle through basic Kiri Kata forms.
Then Kisame and I are made to fight each other.
Violently.
I sigh as I look at the various bruises that are splattered over my arms. Kiri was a particular brand of hell that I would not wish on my worst enemy. I do not mind the grueling curriculum. I have to grit my teeth and keep going; there is no other way. Or this is what i must keep telling myself.
The mist plays tricks on the senses, concealing our teacher's forms, only to reveal them in fleeting glimpses. Shadows dance between the trees, mirroring the ebb and flow of the confrontation. Kisame and I are wide-eyed as we absorb the lesson before us – this dance of the old ways is a living embodiment of the village's lethal legacy.
Suddenly, Goro Sensei unleashes a rapid series of strikes, his blade a blur of motion. Mii-san meets each attack with precise blocks, a testament to his unyielding skill. The choreography reaches its crescendo as the clash of steel reverberates through the training ground.
A moment of stillness follows, broken only by the sound of a blade hitting the ground.
I grind my jaw relentlessly; Kisame fidgets. I hope they haven't offed each other, I think, just as the mist begins to dissipate, revealing the victor standing over his fallen opponent.
Mii-san, though defeated, gives a respectful nod to Goro Sensei, acknowledging the mastery displayed before him.
Goro Sensei catches his breath, then grins viciously at his fallen comrade, pointy teeth and all, before turning to his apprentices.
"Come, brats!" he hollers, even as the mist settles, and the training ground returns to a serene calm, bearing witness to the duality of Kirigakure's lethal artistry – a dance of blades that is both graceful and vicious, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the Hidden Mist Village.
I clench my jaw as my limbs shake in agony, just thinking about the training that is to come. We make our way cautiously, and Mii-san, who is back on his feet with a red slice on his arm, a testament of his defeat, scoffs.
"You runts better lose that attitude and quick," he says, eyeing our forms. "We are currently your teachers and have sworn to teach you for at least a year before turning our deadliest arsenal in your direction. Your caution is warranted, but useless… At least for today," he finishes, grinning.
We straighten our backs silently at the reprimand and salute. "Hai, Sensei!"
Mii-san instantly groans, putting his face into his hands.
"I am not your sensei!" he exclaims in despair.
Goro Sensei starts crowing in earnest. "Well, if today was any indication, you most certainly are not."
"Pathetic."
Kisame and I look at our teachers wide-eyed. Pathetic?! What!
Mii-san growls lowly, "You know most of my moves are too deadly to be used in a slow fight-"
Goro-sensei shakes his head and cuts him off, scoffing. "Excuses!"
But then he levels Mii-san with the most serious look I have seen him wear. "Better up your game, Mii. You know the war is on the horizon again. And you know who they will send out at first."
Mii-san only purses his lips and looks away, agitated.
Goro Sensei claps twice to divert our attention. "Right. You," he exclaims, pointing at me. "Will be fighting Mii-san with your bokken." I bite down the protest in my throat that is sure to burst out, my arms feel like lead and I can barely move them.
But it does not matter because I know anything is better than fighting Sensei, who is merciless despite our age. Kisame, bless that sharky brat, grins up at Goro Sensei. His pointed teeth look like sharp little twigs. How that child has so much stamina, I will never know. Perhaps it is because he does not have an old soul housed in him, I muse. Mii-san watches me as I pull out my flask to take a little swig of my purple medicine. I lick my lips, in an effort to stave off the bitter taste.
"I am ready," I say with what little enthusiasm I have left. I try to get myself in the mood. My teacher, however, has no patience for me to reach the ideal state of mind. I only get a small, bloodthirsty smile in return.
It is on our first day of the academy that I see him. Honestly, it is just two little lumps brawling on the ground, like any other street urchin. But it is the really the weird trousers that have spotted cow prints on them, the lack of a shirt, and the pungent smell of raw salmon that really catch my attention.
Thwack!*
The sound of raw fish slapping flesh is an assault on the senses.
The child sans fish cries out; it is honestly not until Little Moo latches onto child two's arm with his teeth hard enough to draw blood, that I intervene.
"Why are you slapping him with a fish, Little Moo?" I ask the toddler. Tilting my head to the side, I lift him up by the scruff of his muffler.
Wow, Kiri kids are so weird, I muse, taking note of child two's cracked eye and ugly scowl. Child two looks absolutely livid and ready to bail. Wait. I do a small double-take. I am a Kiri kid!
Little Moo is definitely pouting now. He is also turning a little red from the lack of oxygen, I note detachedly as I drop him. I catch onto his muffler again, shaking him -cough gently.
"So?" I ask. He kicks my shin with an amazing spot of agility, making me shriek in pain and causing Kisame to erupt into laughter behind me. "OY!" I glare at the child now. "What is your problem?"
"I am not giving you my fish!" Yells Little Moo. And honestly, I just slap my face in consternation.
"What is your name?" I ask, absolutely done with the world. "Shut up!" I bark at Kisame, who is still sniggering behind me. "And catch the other one who is trying to slink away!" But Child two is long gone, and Kisame refuses to stop howling with laughter. "It isn't that funny," I mutter under my breath. But I suppose my grown-up, holier-than-thou attitude must bug Kisame a little. Must be nice to see someone take me down a peg. The child in my hand also giggles, and my eyes snap up to meet his. He looks back at me defiantly, before wilting a little.
"Zabuza. Momochi Zabuza." He mutters a little indolently. I sigh. "I am not taking your fish from you." The brat has the audacity to perk up. "However, please do refrain from biting people-" Kisame lets out an outraged gasp and appears at my side in a flash.
"What are you saying?!" He exclaims, absolutely indignant. "I like this gaki!" He declares loudly. He snatches Little Moo out of my arms and marches down an alley.
Gaki?! What are you then?! I think.
"Hey!" I yell out at them. "Kisame!"
They seem to be having an animated conversation about the different kinds of salmon… and how to pick them apart to make good sushi?!
"What?!" He manages to holler back.
"What about the academy?" I cry. "It is our first day!"
The little shit proceeds to ignore me and walks down the road with his new buddy like he owns it.
I let out a strangled yell.
So, what if he misses the first day of classes?! I mutter curses under my breath. What an absolute little moron. School is important! What does he know! This is not civilian school either. Uggh It is military- Oh, I have somehow made it to the academy in one piece.
Annoyed, but still in one piece.
Joy.
Half an hour within the Ninja Academy and I know one truth with absolute certainty; the day is an absolute farce. The kids are already divided into clan kids, orphans, and civilians. Kisame and I seem to be part of the orphan group. I grunt, annoyed at the information.
The classes are lackluster, and as an adult in a child's body, it is ridiculously mind-numbing. We are given an introduction to all of our classes. This I genuinely cannot bring myself to pay attention to since I am irritated with Kisame beyond belief. I let the lazy droning of the teachers wash over me as I fantasize different ways to bash Baby Shark's face in. All they teach us is a little bit of Kanji, and then we are promptly made to brawl outdoors for a spar. I perk up a little.
A little boy tries to catch my eye. He attempts to show me the poisonous properties of a yellow flower. On another day, I would have been intrigued. On another day, I would have made a friend. Today, I give him my best resting bitch face, so much so that he actually wilts before my eyes, and to my utter astonishment, into a puddle on the floor.
What?! I look at the puddle, a little dumbfounded. A Kekke-Genkai?! Not a civilian then! I think to myself absently, too pissed off to care.
Within the little group of ambitious civilians and war orphans, I quickly climb to the top of the chart. The little stupid shark had made the right call to bail on this idiotic day. I had assumed that a second run at childhood would be fun if I had a friend by my side but nooo..
I smack a pretty-faced civilian into the ground and pound her face in, for once not feeling a single ounce of remorse at hurting another human being. Goro Sensei's teaching was really taking a hold of me. I look at my bloodied hands in wonder. It really was Survival of the fittest in this world of Naruto.
I grumbled to myself until we were let out. I went straight back to the orphanage, giving my best shark friend a cold shoulder.
That night I dream of a grown-up Little Moo wielding the Kubikiribōchō with the ease of the swordsman, his sense of fashion not improving in the slightest. Another pale, and androgynous gaki lurks in his shadows.
...I wake up with a sour taste in my mouth.