13 Seal of Confrontation (1/2)
For the next couple of hours, Fuzen paid little attention to class and besides the occasional whisper to Kushina focused on developing a close-range offensive technique to compliment his speed.
Hidden underneath the desk small black patches coated areas of Fuzen's left hand making it appear smitten by some horrible disease intent on marring his otherwise unblemished dark skin.
Feeling sure he was able to hold it like this for a while Fuzen turned to Kushina.
”Do you have a pencil I could borrow?”
It took her a while as went over and discarded several pencils from her case before handing him one she thought appropriate for his use.
”Sure. However, you don't strike me as the notetaking type.”
”Now what would make you think that?”
Taking hold of the pencil, he brought it to rest above one of the black patches covering his hand.
”I don't know, just a hunch –”
Noticing something wrong, she looked down at Fuzen's hands in time to see a significant part the pencil she'd given him disappear into a weird looking black smudge.
Holding it up, Fuzen inspected the pencil with great interest.
”Hmm...”
About one-third of the pencil was gone, and the end had been cut clean leaving no evidence of resistance behind. It was as if the black patches functioned as small black holes that if allowed would eat whatever fed them. An empty void ready to devour anything coming into contact with it.
”Oi, my pencil!”
Kushina's accusatory voice disrupted his thoughts, and unlike his usual self, he almost felt bad about it. Scratching the back of his head, he looked at the now much shorter pencil.
”I'll buy you a new one after class, okay?”
Folding her arms, she propped up her still growing breasts making them look a bit bigger and gave him a stern look.
”You better! Otherwise I'll...”
She grew silent and broke eye contact.
”Otherwise what? Tell me I want to know.”
With her head buried down in her notes again, she answered.
”Nothing. Just buy me a new one, please.”
Even though he suspected what she intended to say, Fuzen didn't call her out. The only purpose it'd serve was to make her embarrassed or even worse, cry.
Bending down low, he tried to gain her attention.
”No problem, we'll drop by a place after class where you can choose any pencil you want.”
After she agreed, Fuzen leaned back and put his feet up once again. Dealing with emotional women was much like handling a bomb ready to blow. You never knew when sadness might turn to anger, and she'd attempt stabbing you or worse threaten to withhold sex.
Feeling someone's attention directed at the two of them, Fuzen glanced around the classroom until he found the source, a blond-haired boy with spiky hair near the front row.
A young Minato briefly met his eyes but caught in the act averted them back to the blackboard where Osamu was explaining the function of different shinobi formations.
Ignoring Minato, he went back to perfecting his technique by making it cover his entire lower arm and hand.
Absorbed in his task, it went unnoticed when all the other students left the classroom, and it wasn't until Kushina poked him with an insistent finger that he found it was only the two of them left. Everything was packed up and cleaned.
”Where did everybody go?”
”In the event, you paid attention you would've heard our teacher Osamu instruct everyone to meet him outside for sparring matches.”