The Academy grounds were empty, the late afternoon sun casting warm hues over the building. Hawk walked ahead in his usual quiet manner, the girl stuck close to him but bounced on her feet, eyes darting to every shadow, every sound. Then her gaze locked ahead.
Waiting near the entrance was an older woman with a sturdy build, arms crossed, eyes sharp with experience. Beside her sat a large ninken, its fur streaked with grey, its presence as still and observant as its owner's. The woman's gaze swept over the approaching pair before settling on the girl with an unreadable expression.
So this is the little creature Minato sent me. The woman took in the way the girl moved, springy, restless, weight shifting with an ease that spoke of instincts rather than discipline. Wild. Fitting.
"You must be the wildling," the woman said, her voice rough but not unkind. "Inuzuka Rika. You will call me Sensei." Her voice was firm, no-nonsense. "This is Fuku."
The girl tilted her head. "Sensei?"
Rika nodded. "Yes. Since Hokahe-sama told me about not knowing your name, I shall call you Wildling for now." Rika crossed her arms. "And you?" Her sharp eyes flicked to Hawk.
"Hawk," he answered simply.
Rika hummed. "Not much for talking either, huh?"
Hawk said nothing. Rika snorted. "Figures."
The girl's eyes darted between them before landing on Fuku. Without hesitation, she crouched down. Hawk tensed as she let out a greeting chuff, her body language shifting in an instant. She pawed at the ground, her hand flicking like a tail, her expression bright with interest. Then, without hesitation, she barked.
The ninken's ears perked. It huffed once in response, tail giving a brief flick. Then it growled, not in warning, but in recognition.
Hawk's brow twitched under his mask.
The woman blinked and raised an eyebrow. "...Did she just—?"
The girl let out a low whine, shifting her posture again. The ninken responded, letting out a deep, slow rumble. To Hawk's increasing disbelief, the two continued exchanging sounds, body language fluid and precise. The ninken stood, stepping closer, sniffing at the girl's hand before letting out a sharp bark.
The girl chuffed, mirroring its stance, and let out a high-pitched yip.
Rika uncrossed her arms and rubbed her face. She's not just mimicking—she understands. That is… alarming. And impressive. But mostly alarming. "Hokage-sama didn't say she could talk to dogs."
Hawk exhaled. "I'm not sure he knows the extent of it."
Rika shot him a look before sighing. "Alright, Wildling, I see why he sent you to me. But you're here to learn how to talk like a human."
The girl blinked, tilting her head. "Talk? Words?"
The woman nodded sharply. "That's right. No growling, no yipping, no tail wagging—words. Sentences. You will listen, you will repeat, and you will learn."
The girl glanced at the ninken, who simply flopped onto its stomach with a huff, as if disinterested in the matter. She made another soft clicking noise at it, and the dog let out a slow exhale through its nose before looking away.
Hawk smirked. "Even the dog agrees."
The girl huffed dramatically but straightened slightly, curiosity in her expression. "Learn… talk."
Rika crossed her arms. "Then stop wasting time. Inside. Now."
The girl hesitated. "Dog?"
Rika rolled her eyes. "Fuku comes. Now move."
That seemed good enough for her. She trotted inside, casting glances back at Fuku, who—despite his I'm too old for this energy—followed. Hawk stepped in last, already mentally preparing himself for whatever disaster this lesson would be.
Inside the Academy, Rika led them into a small classroom, its walls lined with fading charts and simple illustrations of objects with their names labeled beneath. She pulled a dusty chair back and sat down, tapping the table twice. "Sit."
The girl obeyed but watched Rika with careful eyes.
"Alright, let's see what we're working with," Rika said, reaching for a stack of picture cards. She The girl's sharp gaze flicked between the card and Rika's mouth. A pause. Then, carefully, "Apple."
"Good." Rika flipped the next card. A chair.
The girl grinned. "Apple!"
Hawk sighed. Fuku chuffed, amused.
Rika's expression hardened. "No. That is a chair." She placed the next card down—this time a cup.
The girl, confident now, grinned again. "Apple!"
Rika frowned, tapping the table. "No. Cup."
The girl's brow furrowed. She pointed at the chair. "Apple." Then the cup. "Apple." Then back at the first card, looking at Rika expectantly. "Apple?"
A slow realisation dawned on Rika. She doesn't think the objects are apple. She thinks the cards are apple.
Rika exhaled. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." She pulled the chair card back out and tapped it. "Chair." Then, before the girl could parrot it, she gestured at an actual chair in the room.
The girl blinked, eyes darting between them. She slowly reached out and tapped the real chair. "…Chair?"
Rika nodded. "Yes. This is chair." She tapped all the card on the table. "This are picture."
The girl squinted. "Picture?" The girl frowned in deep concentration, then hesitantly pointed at the chair again. "Chair." Then at the card with a chair. "Chair. Picture"
Rika nodded firmly. "Finally."
They worked through objects, tree, sun, water, making sure the girl understood that pictures were not the real thing. She picked up words quickly, though there were moments of hesitation, her eyes flicking to Rika as if gauging whether a mistake would earn a reprimand. It was a fair assumption. Rika had little patience for carelessness, but she respected effort. And the girl was definitely trying.
Without warning, the girl pointed at her own face. "Word?"
Rika barely hesitated. "Face."
The girl repeated it slowly, testing the word on her tongue. "Face." She frowned slightly, pressing her fingers to her cheek as if confirming its meaning. Then, suddenly, her attention snapped to Hawk.
She studied him for a long moment, eyes narrowing. Then, carefully, she leaned toward Rika, motioning for her to come closer as if about to share something important.
Rika raised an eyebrow but leaned in.
The girl's voice dropped to a whisper, hushed and conspiratorial. "Rock… face?"
Rika gave a firm nod. "Yes. He has a face."
The girl's brow furrowed. She stared at Hawk's unmoving mask, then whispered again, more serious this time.
"…Face no move."
Rika hummed, waiting.
The girl's frown deepened. "How eat?"
Rika exhaled exasperatedly through her nose, "He takes it off."
Her golden eyes flicked between them again, after a pause, she lifted a hand and flicked her fingers toward Hawk, then tapped her own cheek, lightly pulling at the skin.
"Rock… this?"
Rika exhaled. "Yes."
The girl squinted at Hawk with newfound suspicion. "Two face?" She lifted two fingers, holding them up for emphasis.
Rika glanced at Hawk, who had gone very still. "No. One face."
The girl's brows knitted together. She made a deliberate 'taking off' gesture. Take off. "Face?"
Rika exhaled. "That is a mask."
The girl blinked. "Mask?"
Rika nodded. "Yes. Not face. Mask."
The girl frowned deeply, tilting her head. "Why?"
Rika straightened slightly, her tone firm. "Because he is ANBU. It is his job."
The girl frowned harder, thinking. After a long pause, she mimed taking off a mask. "Why…?"
Rika sighed. "Because he does not need to wear it all the time."
Fuku, who had been watching silently, gave a low huff and flicked his tail, as if reinforcing the explanation. To hide his face. The girl's eyes flicked toward him, as if considering whether to trust the ninken's judgment.
She leaned forward again and whispered, as if revealing a great secret,
"Maybe… no face."
Hawk, who had been trying to ignore the conversation, sighed through his nose. "I have a face."
The girl didn't look convinced. She turned back to Rika, voice serious. "If… no face… how talk?"
Rika sighed, rubbing her temple. "He has a face, Wildling."
The girl glanced at Hawk one last time, with a skeptical expression but a small twinkle in her eyes. Hawk, for his part, seemed resigned to the fact that this was not a conversation he would ever escape.
Rika simply shook her head and tapped the next card. "Enough distractions. Next word."
Hawk exhaled slowly.
He had the distinct feeling this wouldn't be the last time he had to defend the existence of his own face.
The girl pouted but didn't argue, her fingers tapping lightly against the table as if still considering Hawk's maybe-no-face situation.
Rika ignored it and flipped to the next card.
"Mountain."
The girl's playful energy dimmed slightly. Her lips pressed together as she stared at the word, expression focused. Then, without hesitation—tap, tap, tap. A pause.
Then she repeated it.
Rika's brow lifted. Does she have a nervous tic? No, her taps were too precise, too measured. A habit? No, she doesn't do it all the time.
Rika deliberately pointed to a more difficult word. Mountain. The girl hesitated, lips pressing together in concentration, then—tap, tap, tap. A pause. Then she repeated the word.
Rika's brow lifted. She's creating a pattern.
She tested it again with. Each time, the girl used a different tapping sequence, as if mapping out the word before she spoke it.
Hawk, who had been content to stay out of things after nearly losing his identity to a child, finally leaned forward slightly.
"She's… memorising them with the tapping?"
Rika's eyes remained on the girl's hands. "No," she murmured, watching closely.
"She's structuring them. Feeling them."
The girl frowned at butterfly, clearly struggling. Her fingers drummed softly—two quick taps, a pause, then one more. Then she tried the word again, this time clearer, stronger.
Fuku chuffed from the corner, as if amused. Rika glanced at him, then back at the girl. So that's how she's learning.
Rika smirked. "Wildling, tap it out again."
The girl hesitated, but her fingers moved—tap, pause, tap tap. Then, with more confidence, she spoke the word.
Rika exhaled through her nose. "Alright," she said, sitting back. "We work with that."
It wasn't just about learning words. The girl was building her own way to shape speech, her own structure for language. It was unlike anything Rika had ever seen before.
And she would make sure the girl got it right.
They stayed the whole afternoon in the Academy, learning more words trying to explain the bases of sentence structures, even some writing, with some pauses in between. But by the time they were finished, the girl had learned more than Rika had anticipated. The tapping, though strange, was effective. She had taken to structuring her speech with rhythm, her way of breaking down difficult words into something she could feel.
Hawk watched quietly as Rika tested the girl one last time, flipping back through previous words. River. Tap, pause, tap tap. The girl said it clearly, a little hesitant but determined. Mountain. Tap, tap, pause. Another success.
The girl, as if sensing the lesson was over, immediately slumped forward in exhaustion, cheek smushing against the desk. "Stop."
Fuku let out an approving huff from his spot on the floor. Hawk barely resisted a snort.
Rika shook her head. "You're not done, Wildling. You're just getting started."
The girl peeked up at her through barely-open eyes. "…Sleep."
"Yes. But tomorrow, we do it again."
A dramatic groan.
Rika raised an eyebrow. "That means your brain worked for once."
Hawk smirked and stood. "Come on," he said, patting the girl's arm. "We go home."
Rika crossed her arms, watching them go. "Be on time tomorrow," she warned. "And don't let her eat dirt or something weird before she comes back."
Hawk raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment before leading the girl outside. The sky had begun to shift into deeper shades of gold, the sun dipping lower. The girl was quiet for a while, uncharacteristically so.
As they neared Minato's home, she suddenly spoke. "Me. You. Play. Tomorrow?"
Hawk glanced at her. "Train. Yes."
The girl gave him a tired, but happy smile and then yawned. And with that, she padded ahead toward Minato's house.
Hawk sighed. "I need a drink."