Chapter 11: Cover up

The academy seems like such a waste of time these days, especially when I get lessons with not only Ameyuri-Sensei, but also Goro-Sensei. Sometimes I wonder why I have the privilege of so many tutors. Why does Kisame? Or even Zabuza to an extent. Most children get only Yoshino-Sensei's teachings after all.

...Unless they are clan kids. I suddenly realise.

The academy's lessons are a dull thrum against the vibrant hum of knowledge buzzing within the library walls. Nestled amongst ancient scrolls in the library, I find all the basics a budding shinobi needs: survival, combat, even the art of silent death. And if there are doubts that gnaw at me, shadows I can't dispel alone? I simply approach Ameyuri-sensei, my enigmatic primary instructor, a mystery as opaque as the Mist itself, for I am still at a loss about my origins.

Whatever they are though, they seem to be working the higher-ups into a tizzy.

Ameyuri-sensei had warned me to be prepared for a mission in the evening.

A mission! I want to scoff. It is utterly unheard of to take an academy student into the battlefield.

Wait.. What is my age? A slow, unbidden thought rolls into my mind. I shake it off forcefully. What did it matter?

All I know is that the path to power lies before me, a brutal forge where the mind would be honed alongside the body. If stepping outside the village is what it will take to gain it, I am willing to take the risk. I shrug and shift my attention to the classroom with unrestrained boredom.

Here in Kiri, kunoichi are trained alongside their male counterparts. There is no such thing as a 'Kunoichi-class' like they have in the hidden village of the leaf, or even sand. That is to say, regardless of gender, each and every child must know the art of seduction, spying, assassination and other subtleties. The sudden nuance in gender equality is a pleasant surprise, a contrast when you consider the class disparity.

It is interesting to note that flowers, the delicate messengers of coded whispers, hold no place in the subject of intelligence in Kiri. Not with the perpetual mist clinging to the land, choking the life from most blooms. The precious few that are surviving hold deadlier purposes – potent medicines or silent toxins. No, Kiri's whispers travel through the language of knots, a silent script being woven into rope or string. The number, type, and placement, each a brushstroke on the canvas of secrecy.

So, it comes as no surprise when I find myself forging an unlikely alliance amidst the day's lesson – poisons. Even as I consider the possibility of lacing my blade with various delectable solutions, I side-eye the brat I am partnered up with for the day. My new companion is as slippery as the very substances we are studying.

"Those blossoms won't hurt you," a voice, tinged with youthful arrogance, breaks my concentration. A pale-haired, pale-eyed boy with the trademark Hozuki shark-like grin stands beside me. Yoshino- sensei had partnered us up with a small smirk that made my hair stand on end and look around in suspicion.

I eye the yellow buds with distrust. "Identifying poisonous flora," I mutter, the task at hand a stark contrast to the carefree demeanor of my new partner. "This, I believe, is a Mansoku."

Mansoku, the colloquial name for the plant that meant concealment. Or a cover-up.

The boy's grin widens as he promptly dissolves into a puddle of water.

I blink, dumbfounded.

What trickery is this? How do I explain this to Yoshino- Sensei?!

Before panic can fully take root, the puddle reforms, solidifying back into the boy.

"What the fuck?" My voice trails off, a deadpan replacing the initial shock.

The boy only cackles, the sound echoing through the classroom. "Should've seen the look on your face!"

"Bloody ninja magic," I grumble under my breath.

"Hey," the boy puffs out his chest, "Hozuki are water, and water is Hozuki." His voice softens, a hint of something deeper flickering across his features. "Though the rest of the village might not always see it that way."

I frown at the unintended information. This isn't the first whisper I have heard of discontent within the Mist.

Fear simmers around the kekkei-genkai – these bloodline gifts that make Kiri's shinobi so formidable, so feared. In a recent scuffle at the border near the Land of Fire, the Kaguya clan, consumed by their own bloodlust, turned on their allies.

It was a stark reminder of the potential for chaos. The incident had caused a sudden animosity in the atmosphere of the village. A deep-seated mistrust hangs heavy in the air, fueling petty squabbles and bar brawls.

And the assaults on Kisame's person, that for as far as I can tell occur for no reason except his differing appearance, had only become worse. I think back bitterly at the drunk idiots spitting on my friend. I might have knocked them out with the blunt end of my sword, but my chest still raged at the injustice of it all. My heart wanted blood.

Kisame had taken one look at the killing intent wafting off of me and had slowly pulled me back to the orphanage, laughing the entire way.

"Don't worry about me, Ruka-chan!" he had said, with a huge grin on his face.

But how could I not worry! I clench my fists in consternation.

"You alright?" the boy next to me ventures cautiously.

At my shrug, he nods. "The Mansoku," he begins, ignoring his own comment. (It was a weakness to admit his clan's vulnerability, no doubt.) Subsequently, his tone shifts to a seriousness that belies his age, "..its pollen carries the poison. But it is mostly used as a…compliance drug of sorts. A slow simmer releases a concoction that disrupts the Prefrontal Cortex, hindering judgment, and weakens the Limbic System, twisting emotions to make someone more susceptible to suggestion. A secret weapon specific to Kiri, one I doubt any of our enemies suspect."

I stare at the precocious boy, a wave of admiration washing over me. Here I am, feeling like a know-it-all with my fascination with medicine, only to be schooled by this child.

"What's… what's your name?" I stammer, a blush creeping up my neck.

The boy's laughter fills the room, a sound devoid of malice. "Mangetsu! Hozuki Mangetsu!" he chirps, his enthusiasm infectious. "Come on, let's show Sensei what we've learned!"

I nod, a flicker of excitement igniting within me. Perhaps the academy isn't so bad after all. Perhaps, with a companion like Mangetsu by my side, the dusty halls hold the promise of a new adventure, a deeper delve into the fascinating world of medicine.

I let myself get dragged to Yoshino-sensei. Mangetsu's chirping voice is a steady flow in my ear, he repeats what he has told me with unwavering enthusiasm.

"A commendable effort, Mangetsu-kun," Yoshino-sensei smiles warmly at both of us. "However, additional points can be earned by detailing the dosage and administration period of the compliance potion."

Mangetsu bobs his head eagerly. "Certainly, sensei! While the flower itself displays a vibrant yellow, the extracted fluid holds a different hue."

Intrigued, I steal a glance at the pale-faced boy.

"It is a purple, viscous liquid that can be taken in doses of 120 millilitres. Administration of the drug can be over the span of a few months to years.. depending on the target's-"

The blood drains from my face with a terrifying rush. My focus snaps from Mangetsu's impromptu lecture. Undoubtedly, this information was divulged by pure, accidental chance.

Every memory I possess seems tainted now. A chilling realization dawns – I've been ingesting a similar purple liquid since… since my earliest recollection. Since arriving in Kiri!

My mother? The thought jolts me, a spark of rebellion quickly smothered. It's a forbidden thought, a whisper my mind dares not entertain.

A cold, malicious voice slithers through my skull: Your loyalty lies with Kiri. Here you were born, here you belong. You have no mother. No existence before this.

No…!, A wave of nausea rises in my throat.

Kisame is right next to me, i notice, he steadies me with a questioning look. Concern? Or is he part of this elaborate charade?

They hustle me onto a seat, the whispers morphing into a cacophony. The other students cast curious glances, but the veiled warning in Yoshino-sensei's eyes sends a prickle down my spine.

I force myself upright.

Denial is my only defense. Any hint of suspicion would trigger an immediate dose. A vague memory flickers – weaning off the potion a few months ago. This setback will infuriate them, should they learn of it. What are they hiding? Or do they just want to make me a loyal Kiri-Shinobi.. with valuable Kekei-Genkai?!

My body trembles.

I school my features, the bitter taste of suspicion clinging to my tongue. Can I maintain this facade of a compliant soldier? The very thought burns a hole in my gut.

My mind races, a desperate litany of names: Ameyuri-sensei, Goro-sensei, Zabuza, Kisame… Can I trust any of them?

The answer, a chilling echo in the caverns of my skull: No.

The day bleeds into a hazy blur. Soon, I find myself standing before the village gates, Ameyuri-sensei looming beside me. A chilling whisper snakes through my mind: Careful… careful…

Her gaze, devoid of suspicion, rests upon me fondly. "Took your sweet time, brat!" she chuckles. "Single file, now!"

With a blank mask firmly in place, I follow her command, the weight of secrets a suffocating cloak upon my shoulders.