Chapter 47 - My SI Stash #47 - Kaleidoscope by TotoroX92 (Naruto) (1/2)
-Some drama and some psychotic stuff. It's real edgy. SI will somehow end up in a universal harem, well the ending's pretty wild.
Sypnosis: Fear can make you do stupid things. When you're two years behind Itachi, that's a luxury you can't afford. Drama, Angst, Humor, Horror, Bad Decisions, FFN is shit about tags, Read this on SpaceBattles, SI/OC
Rated: M
Words: 136K
Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/12539731/1/Kaleidoscope (TotoroX92)
PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)
-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)
Chapter 1.1-1.9
April 19
I was born into my second life utterly confused and disoriented. The first and only constant in my earliest days was mother, who held me even though I cried far too much for a normal baby, and whispered softly to me every night as I struggled to make sense of all the conflicting thoughts and memories, her long hair falling down around me in a protective cocoon as I bawled, gleaming light turning the black to indigo.
”It's okay sweetie, it's okay, mama's here, it's okay Hiroki.”
And so it was that Uchiha Hiroki came to be.
I often wondered as I grew older if my mother might not have been blessed with the gift of prophecy, for my name was spelled in a somewhat unusual manner.
Searching Light.
It was peculiarly fitting, for I never stopped moving once I had achieved some semblance of order in my thoughts. There was so little time, and so much to see and do.
I was an Uchiha, and thus I was cursed. Born of the line of Otsutsuki Indra, and blessed with both his eyes and his legacy of madness.
This was not necessarily the most terrible thing that could happen to one dropped into the Elemental Countries, certainly there were worse fates. I would be a strong ninja, at the very least, which was a great boon to one's chances of survival on this planet.
My earliest years were fairly sheltered and I was rarely allowed to leave the house, but our backyard was beautifully maintained by my mother, who filled it with lovely white and purple orchids. Our house was not very large, but the smaller size made it cozy and it was nicely shaded by the Hashirama trees whose broad green leaves cast dappled shadows over my infant flailings in the strong summer sun, and in the fall turned orange and helped the oncoming dusk change the windows to warm fire.
Oh the trees, the glorious trees, towering against the sky, a bulwark against any threat. Not for naught were we called the Village Hidden in the Leaves, for the grand pillars of the Shodaime's bloodline were omnipresent amongst the buildings, and to a child the shade of the canopy was better than any security blanket.
There would be time later to train, time to grow. I would not slack, of course, because War might yet be looming, I could not know for sure when I was yet.
But for a time, I was content.
How foolish youth.
. . .
When I was three the Kyuubi broke free from its Seal and decimated Konoha.
Our pleasant little house was destroyed, along with much of the Uchiha quarter as my mother and I huddled in the fallout shelters under the Hokage monument, crouched in terrified silence with the rest of the civilians as titanic waves of malevolent energy reshaped the landscape.
When the dust settled we moved to a new house, in a new walled off part of the village, and there were no more cool summers and shady autumns in the lee of great trees, and there never would be again.
Dreams plagued everyone, the malefic echoes of the Bijuu given form in the sleeping mind, but mine were not of the Fox.
The trees rush past in the dim moonlight, shapes given definition by the shadows which the anemic silver luminance does not relieve so much as highlight. The inky blue of the hollows in their roots exert a s_u_c_k_i_n_g pressure and lend the grass between the wavering spaces the sickening green hue of an old bruise viewed through tear blurred eyes.
Feet pound in unsteady rhythm, a drumbeat of frantic flight warped to torpor slowness by the clutching shades of indistinct figures hiding behind the towering wooden columns. The ground turns under foot, traitor earth rushing up to blind, fall brought short at the last moment by shaking arms.
Sandaled feet appear ahead, soundless across the cold and barren clearing, flecks of ice spreading to leech color from the surroundings and leave them a tired clinical grey. A sudden flip and a cloaked figure looms, visage bleeding from black inscrutability into Itachi, face lined and pale and devoid of pity as his eyes expand and swirl, red on black consuming the moon to glower down on frozen limbs with baleful crimson disdain as it peeks through incongruously bright leaves. Steel flashes once more and the view topples in accompaniment to shooting pain-
. . .
A/N: So, this is the thing I have been working on for... way too long, being edited and re-edited and reviewed and modified and... bleh. I am basically satisfied with it now though, and if I don't put it out there I'll eventually edit it to death, so. Anyway, fair warning, this fic is going to be more than just a little bit dark, but hopefully not straight up grimdark. This is a story of poor decisions and unlucky outcomes. Be ye warned.
I strongly recommend you read this fic on Spacebattles, its first and truest home, where you can also find alt-endings, omake, and fan-art as well as all sorts of other little wonderful tidbits.
Chapter 1.2
Feb 2, 1 AK
I gazed flatly at the faded brown wood of the training log buried standing upright in the backyard of the new house in the Uchiha compound and fingered the pouch hanging from my shorts absently. The early spring wind whistled gently around the edges of the building and sent a tiny chill up my spine even in the late afternoon even as it rustled the feeble green pushing up amongst the dead patches of the poorly tended lawn.
Hold the kunai parallel to palm, bring hand back to opposite shoulder, flick arm forward, use wrist to aim following smooth arc, release kunai while tip is pointing at target. Repeat until too dark to see.
Mother was somewhat reluctant to give me detailed instruction in the ninja arts so young but there was no more time to be content, only time to survive. Her few tips on form and technique formed the basis for my new existence and practice consumed every waking moment not devoted to bodily maintenance. I had little natural aptitude for the ninja arts, so I made up for it with repetition.
Breath in, curl fist with thumb out from core, fist held slightly above waist height, push out while twisting arm till palm is parallel with the ground, extend the punch through the target, finish breathing out. Retract fist one while mirroring with fist two. Repeat until bleeding.
Breath deep, keep shoulders back, keep eyes on the road ahead and off feet, maintain an even stride length, take small sips of water. Repeat until unconscious.
Tick tock, goes the clock, now we all must die.
Certainly my father would perish. He was very proper, Uchiha Genryusai, very much a model Uchiha. Not a bad man, not at all, though I did not see him quite enough to form a solid opinion of him. He was a tokubetsu Jounin, though from what I understood not actually an exceptional one. He only managed tokubetsu because of his proficiency with Genjutsu, and he only possessed that because of the Sharingan. Mediocre chakra reserves, and no notable traits besides his eyes.
My mother was, as I said, my rock. Uchiha Yuki had retired at the rank of Chunin to breed up the next generation, as is proper for Uchiha ladies who have awoken their Sharingan, and she helped me greatly during the earliest years of training.
”No, Hiroki, like this, keep your elbow in tight while you punch. If you push out too much you lose power. Okay?”
”Yes mother. Like this?”
My knuckles thunked heavily into the wood. I ignored the slight sting and looked back to mother for correction, my eyes wide and observant as I searched for motions approval in the shifting folds of her lavender kimono.
”Good. Like that. But don't push yourself too hard, I don't want you coming home with bloody hands again.”
I smiled faintly at her and she returned the gesture with a smile of her own, the tilt of her head allowing her hair to send long shadows over her face, giving the alabaster skin a somber caste. We both knew it was vain to hope that I would stop before injury.
The one arguable downside to spending so much time at home was the reputation I built among the other Uchiha children. Momma's boy, Training freak, Weirdo. Fortunately their attempts at interaction were minimal so I was spared much in the way of teasing.
”Hey, you wanna play ninja with us?”
The boy in dark blue clothes was met with only a blank black stare from my position beneath a tree in one of the compound's smaller parks, eyes grown accustomed to the undistracting pink of my own hands forced to blink as they reset. It was a more or less pleasant spot to train my chakra for most of the year due to the slightly clammy sage-green shade of the trees. Provided I wasn't being bothered by toddlers. His companion tugged on his sleeve, pulling him away from my spot.
”Not him; Hiroki's a weirdo. Let's ask Satsuki.”
The trio of raven haired children ran past me as I continued to sit in a lotus position, feeling out my chakra system. I didn't have any friends inside my clan, or to be honest, outside it either. Why bother getting chummy with pre-corpses?
The only member of my very extended family that deserved, or indeed received, any of my respect and attention was my mother.
”Where did you want the folded clothes?”
She glanced up from the dishes in the sink with a little surprise, pushing back a few stray locks of hair with the back of a soapy hand cleaned in the next moment on her sky blue apron inscribed with the Uchiha fan.
”Oh! Did you empty the drier? Sweetie, you didn't have to do that, I can take care of it.”
I blinked up at her over the stack of neatly folded clothes, the basket stuffed with clean shirts in the clan's favored blue and black in a pile almost taller than I was.
”I don't mind. I'm too tired to practice today, so I thought I could help you.”
Her smile sent a thrill of warm p_l_e_a_s_u_r_e through me, even tinged as it was with an expression of chastis_e_m_e_nt at my tacit admission of overwork.
”You can put it at the foot of my futon, okay? Thank you, Hiroki.”
I tried in all things to be respectful of her wishes, though I could not quite be everything she wanted for doing so would have meant far less time to train. Still, aside from the disagreement over training, I was a model child. Quiet, polite, helpful. Whenever I was too sore to train for another day I would spend time with her, helping to cook, or asking her to read me stories; anything to brighten her day.
Much as I loathed it, I could not save her. She was loyal to her husband, and therefore the clan, and so she would die. Still I clung to her while I could, and tried to ensure that her experience of motherhood was a good one. She would be gone all too soon.
. . .
It was surreal, seeing all these people and knowing that soon they would be dust and memory. The Uchiha cremated their dead, and it became hard for me to not smell smoke when I looked at the black haired figures passing me on the street, and the taste of ash was ever present on my tongue on the rare occasions I spoke to them.
I could never eat more than a few bites in the presence of my extended family without throwing up. It happened often enough that they took me to the doctor, who of course could find nothing wrong. How could I tell them, how could I explain, that I couldn't look at black hair, black eyes, and pale skin without food turning to so much charred flesh in my mouth?
Combined with my obsessive training, my antisocial behaviour was noted as worrisome, but not counterproductive, by the older members of the clan. The Uchiha prized strength above everything, and if nothing else, in this way I was similar to my new family for strength was what I sought above all.
Every thudding strike against the training post or pounding footstep on the jogging path was a beat of the mantra in my head and heart, and every scr_a_p_e and bloody bandage proof of my commitment to survival.
I must be strong.
If I am not strong, I will die.
Strength opens doors.
These doors will let me escape.
No pit is too deep to sink to.
No mountain is too high to climb.
Anything that I can do, I must do.
Strength is the reward for my effort.
With strength, I can be free from fear.
I must be strong.
I was so afraid.
. . .
A/N: Don't worry about the timeline too much; if it matters when something happens relative to another thing the segment will start with the date.
Chapter 1.3
I fingered the high collar of the blue t-shirt mother had bought for me with a blank expression of contemplation, digits sliding over the embroidered uchiwa to pick nervously at individual stitches.
The high collar was traditional amongst the Uchiha, or possibly merely fashionable; I wasn't sure and didn't care to investigate further. At any rate, it was a strong identifier of outsider status for none of the children in the village proper wore such things. Without the distinctive clothing I could almost pass for a civilian. The Uchiha were a little bit paler than average, but the general stock of the elemental countries, despite outliers like Naruto, was stereotypical asian: black or dark brown hair and black or dark brown eyes.
Ninjas threw a huge wrench in that with their weird bloodlines, like the Yamanaka's pupil-less eyes, but they were the minority. The super majority of humans were fairly average in appearance, and I was within one standard deviation of that norm being a relatively banal specimen of the Uchiha's black on pale on black.
...Save for the shirt. An affectation. An inconvenience. A mark of otherness which set me apart from the rest of Konoha and the other shinobi.
That just wouldn't do.
I reached into my pouch for a kunai and made a few, small, careful cuts; nothing blatant as sabotage or intentional damage, all the sort of marks which could be written off as training wear, but which would eventually acc_u_mulate on the shirt until it fell apart and needed to be replaced. A careful pricking of some of the seams, a little tear on the hem, and the garment would die a messy death, opening the way for replacements.
If I wanted to set myself apart from the rest of the pre-corpses in my clan, I would need to dress the part. It would take a while for my requests for grey long sleeves with normal collars to be met, but I could afford to wait, for this.
. . .
November 24, 3 AK
It was a difficult problem, managing my time. I was sitting again beneath my favored tree, watching the leaves changing color from faded greens to dull browns and yellows, still clinging reluctantly to the lesser trees of the Uchiha compound against the backdrop of autumn blue sky dulled by intermittent wisps of off white cloud. I only had a moment to take a break between exercises and catch my breath, but even that time was invested in planning my next move.
What was more important? Should I run another l_a_p of the training field? Some pushups maybe?
My gaze lingered for a moment at the fallen leaves swirling in the wind and my shoulders twinged sympathetically at the chill; perhaps I should practice more with my chakra today and allow my muscles to rest.
I had no time, no time for uncertainty or experimentation. I had to make do with off the cuff estimates and back-of-the-napkin calculations on how to invest the ever dwindling number of seconds I had at my disposal. I couldn't afford the time to find optimal strategies for improvement, and I couldn't afford not to be optimal.
I scratched nervously at the back of my hand hard enough to break the skin, tiny beads of bright carmine welling up from the excessive force. I licked up the seeping blood absently, taste of copper sitting in my mouth thick as syrup, sticking to my teeth and lingering on my breath, a tangible reminder of my own transient nature, no more real than the shadows cast by the early morning sun.
Run, punch, focus, fingers, speed, stamina, chakra, jutsu, again, again, again-
My mind floated away from my body as I rose and set to sprinting along the dusty track, course momentarily decided upon.
Every second was precious, every moment another step up the infinite ladder of power, the ladder I needed to climb as quickly as I could. I could not allow missteps; a single serious injury or dead end training routine could be the final nail in my coffin, the unrecoverable opportunity gone forever.
The same questions, over and over.
Should I be fast and light? Should I be slow and durable? Should I be clever and twisty?
What would Itachi think most useful? What would help me get stronger faster? What would convince the village I should be excluded from the purge?
I couldn't ask anyone for advice; I was rarely allowed to wander on my own outside the compound and the libraries were only open to Genin and above, and contained scarcely anything besides when paranoid ninja hoarded their knowledge for their students and family. None of the Uchiha would understand, for they would see the d_e_s_i_r_e for power and try to shape me to be like them, a course which would merely seal my doom faster.
I would smile and nod along with the rest of the Uchiha children in the classes which taught us reading and writing and basic math, allowing the subtler lessons of Uchiha superiority to trickle away unheeded. There was no help to be had there.
The wind in the trees became the whisper of sand, running through the glass, each grain lost forever. A million chances, and I could only take a few.
I needed more.
. . .
March 28, 4 AK
”He's only six years old.”
”Almost seven. He'll be seven by the beginning of the semester. Itachi joined the academy at six. He graduated in only a year and now he's on track to become a Chunin!”
”Itachi is a prodigy; Hiroki is quick but he isn't-”
”Bah! Hiroki is strong enough. You molly coddle him too much. At least he takes his training seriously!”
”Too seriously Genryusai. You aren't here; You don't see him coming home dripping blood after beating himself raw on the training posts 6 nights a week!”
”Do you think keeping him out of the academy will help? Do you think he'll stop beating himself bloody if we keep him out for longer? You can't stop him Yuki, he's going to be a ninja regardless of what you or I want.”
I tapped a foot gently on the darkly varnished wooden floor and the conversation cut off. My father pulled the faintly glowing eggshell screen open and looked down at me with a stern and slightly disapproving gaze, tinged with a light dusting of paternal concern. I blinked up at him placidly for a second then ducked under the hanging sleeve of his midnight blue kimono and climbed into my mother's l_a_p, head nestling in the folds of her pale lavender house robe.
”I want to enter the academy. I need to be stronger. To make you proud of me. To be an example to the village of the value of the Uchiha. I haven't even unlocked my Sharingan yet.”
My voice quavered with emotion and my eyes focused on the stark white and red fan of the clan crest on the wall. My parents probably interpreted the tremble as shame, my mother hugging me closer in comfort, but it was only fear. I couldn't possibly stand against Itachi without awakened eyes, not if I trained a hundred years. Even then it was a longshot, at best.
My father spoke as if it was no great gap, but Itachi was a prodigy. I had watched him train more than once over the years and he was flawless. His form was perfect, his skill with our Bloodline was unparalleled, and his chakra reserves were already well developed for a child his age. I needed to press harder if I was to even stay in his shadow, and the academy would give me a chance to do so. More importantly, it would give me the opportunity to get a Jounin sensei, and the significant boost in strength that was synonymous with such an arrangement.
I would join the academy, and become strong.
Strength is Life. Weakness is Death.
. . .
A/N: italics may be lost in the transition. let me know if you spot any errors in the posts, dropped letters or words or whatever.
Chapter 1.4
November 14, 4 AK
I hit the training post hard enough that the slightly grimy wood creaked, leaving a bloody imprint of my knuckles behind to further encrust the aged log.
'Average, maybe a bit better.'
The f_u_c_k_i_n_g Chunin instructor, just casually consigning me to death, to a faceless grave, forgotten before I had even made a proper name for myself, as if Sasuke would care about some random second cousin once removed, as if Itachi and Obito would even know my f_u_c_k_i_n_g face. Just another name on the memorial or whatever they decided to put up to commemorate the fall of the Uchiha. Spat upon by the village most likely, the little kanji scratchings covered by moss and dust and faded to nothing in a decade, at best.
All because some noname academy teacher thought I wasn't impressive enough?!
F_U_C_K THAT.
I wouldn't let some nobody, some cannon fodder, some dropout no-talent hack tell me to calmly accept death because I was 'still growing'. I didn't have time to grow, I needed to be strong now!
A rush of chakra to my fist sent cracks through the log, a few flakes of old effort fluttering off in a tepid greyish cloud.
Cracks. Just cracks. Not shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces, not making it explode in a puff of dust, not… not good enough. Not good enough to live.
I sank to my knees and began to shake with silent, panicked sobs. My c_h_e_s_t heaved but no sound escaped as tears dropped from my face onto the hard packed earth of the training field, moisture briefly darkening the dusty brown earth before fading away into nothing, just like I would.
A soft sound from behind me, a shinobi being polite. I stood, not quite as fluidly as I would have liked, and wiped at my eyes before turning to greet the interloper.
My breath caught in my throat, my blood turned to ice, and I froze in utter terror.
Itachi.
The cold hand of inevitable fate settled around my shoulders like a cloak and its silken voice whispered sweetly in my ear as I lost myself in the depths of midnight held in his gaze.
Look, here he is, your death incarnate. Will it be quick? A stiletto through the eye, a yanking snap of the neck, and then fade to black? Will it be slow? A sword across the gut, your organs on display, so you can watch your insides fall out and scream your last breath, trying to clutch your intestines in with the scent of shit filling your nose? Will it hurt? A long, slow bleed, out in the forest as you crawl away like an animal? Will it HURT?
My eyes burned and everything became so clear.
My executioner raised an elegant eyebrow, face set in a polite and expressionless mask of nobility.
”I had not heard that you had awakened your Sharingan, Hiroki-san.”
I smiled mechanically, jerkily, and nodded my head.
He must not know, He must not see, I must not fear, fear is the mindkiller-
”It was very recent Itachi-sama.”
His brows pinched infinitesimally at the honorific and I visibly flinched, breath growing slightly more rapid. His expression smoothed once more to placid unreadability and I had to fight the urge to begin scratching at my hands from nerves.
My eyes stopped burning and clarity left the world as I forced down the instinctive threat response sending chakra to my eyes. I forced a modest laugh, bandaged and bloody hand rubbing the back of my head in feigned embarrassment as I scuffed at the ground with a black sandaled foot.
”Sorry, I only meant- that is- you startled me.”
He hummed in acknowledgment and c_o_c_ked his head ever so slightly. Stupid, stupid, stupid, can't act like a normal to literally save your life-
”I startled you bad enough to awaken your Sharingan?”
I froze again, like every little white rabbit that ever tried to hide from the hawk, please don't look here, look somewhere else, there's nothing here, I am nothing, I want to live, please, please, please-
”I- I didn't mean, you're just, uh, my Idol, Itachi-sama. You're so strong, you- you're just- better.”
I clamped onto my wrist with an abnormally steady hand to stop it twitching and desperately tried to keep my gaze steady, but unable to stop it from darting anywhere but on Itachi, searching for escape routes. There was no escape, there was never any escape, I was too weak, too pathetic, too slow, too dumb-
”I have always held you as the epitome of what it means to be a shinobi of the Leaf; I have been trying to match your achievements, but I fear that I lack your natural aptitude.”
Because I wasn't born with some bullshit reincarnation destiny, and you were, and you're going to kill me because I didn't win the f_u_c_k_i_n_g lottery-
”I was somewhat… discomfited by my mid-semester performance evaluation at the academy however; it seems likely I will not be able to graduate in only a year. Then seeing you… I apologize most sincerely.”
I knelt my head into a steep bow and my whole body clenched to avoid trembling. Would he buy it? Would he see through the half-truth? Would he just decide to get this one out of the way early, a quick stab to the base of the skull, unfortunate training accident, so sad, prime of his life, oh well, move along-
Sandaled feet appeared before me, long shadow consuming the multitude of fine variations in color as it spread across the ground.
I couldn't breathe around the tightness in my throat, and my eyes began to swim once more with tears, it wasn't fair, why did I have to die, I workedso hard-
”I am sorry to hear that. I have seen how much effort you put into training. I am sure you will do the clan proud.”
My head jerked from side to side in negative, motion stiff and forced, he would see through it, he would know, say something,say something-
”The clan can take care of itself. My first duty is to the village.”
Silence. Just like everything Itachi did, he was completely devoid of presence whenever he didn't want to be noticed. He was a ghost, no more substance than a mirage, and just as cruel to travelers in the desert. I couldn't even hear him breathing, and the only sound in the training field was the faintest rustle of wind in the trees and the pounding of my heart in my ears.
”...Indeed.”
And the feet turned away, the shadow retreated, the hawk flew on, behold: the rabbit lives for another day.
The gentle padding of Itachi's retreat filled me with such palpable relief that I nearly threw up, falling to my knees as my legs turned to rubber in the shuddering wake of adrenalin. I held it in, swallowing the bile back down and only straightening after I had finally caught up to my racing breath, the restrained trembling back full force as my fingers twitched spasmodically as they clawed at the dark soil of the training ground.
When at last I was able to stand straight I turned back to the post and set to with an energy renewed by the burning throb of panic in my skull, the desperate beat of the fleeing rabbit's tread mirrored in the hammering of my frenzied heart.
I will not die. I must be strong.
. . .
The sunset that night was beautiful, and the leaves of the trees became fire as the lingering yellow rays of light streamed through them. Fear of Death is the Spice of Life. Who knew?
. . .
A/N: Just because a thing happened once does not mean it will happen again. One reincarnation is no gauarantee of another.
Chapter 1.5
May 13, 5 AK
I could hardly tear my gaze from the piercing blue sky of early summer, the world leant a dreamy neon edging by the blistering white sunlight and the haze of endorphins rushing through my head.
Marginal. My pass was marginal, but I made it, by the skin of my teeth and judicious use of my Sharingan. I was probably in the bottom ten percent of the graduating class, actually, but I did graduate, and after only one year in the academy, a fact which filled me anew with a fierce and predatory joy every time I remembered it.
I was reminded of the old joke.
What do you call a doctor that barely passed his MCATs?
A doctor.
Even with a slim pass, I still passed. I was now part of squad 19, with two older children who I had never heard of and a Jounin sensei who's name I didn't catch, floating as I was in the haze of euphoric relief at my hard won success.
I took a breath and shook my head clear of distracting emotions, refocusing on the present and my team.
No. I mustn't think of them like that, as faceless no ones. They need to matter to me. I need to love them. And then, they needed to die. KIA, of course, for Itachi would never forgive such betrayal of the Will of Fire. Just… well. It happened. The mortality rates for newly minted Genin were atrocious, even in peacetime. I didn't need to do anything precipitous, just let nature run its course. But it had to hurt, to awaken the Mangekyou, which meant I needed to care for them. And the first step to that was getting them to like me.
Curse you shortsighted antisocial tendencies! What do children even do when they aren't training?
”Hi, uh, sorry, I was kind of distracted when they were doing team assignments. I'm Hiroki, Uchiha Hiroki, it's nice to meet you. What are your names?”
The girl gives me a slightly put upon look as if I'm already intentionally trying to drag her down with my youth and short stature, the wild spikes of her auburn hair bristling from her hooded leather jacket as her head jerks slightly in acknowledgement, and her frown pulling at the small clan markings on her cheeks and setting her yellowed eyes to glinting.
”Inuzuka Nikkei. This is my ninken Kenji.”
The small brown dog gives a yip of hello. The other boy on the team just looks a little bit sleepy, well tanned face relaxed and eyelids half closed over pale green orbs, but he gives me a small wave of acknowledgment, the motion barely shifting the longsleeved amber shirt he wore over cornflower blue pants.
”Yo. I'm Shimura Wasabi. Sup?”
I carefully school my expression to avoid blinking in surprise at the name. I had known intellectually Danzo must have had a clan, but I hadn't expected to meet any of them, and certainly not anticipated being on the same squad as one. I smiled politely back towards the shaven headed boy, making sure to crinkle the corner of my eyes so it looked natural, covering the momentary lull in conversation with a little cough.
”Ahh, any relation to Shimura Danzo perchance? Advisor to the Sandaime?”
Wasabi raised an eyebrow at the name drop but nodded a positive.
”Yeah; my uncle's cousin or something like that. Don't see him much of course, he's a busy guy.”
I nod pleasantly, my hair shifting slightly from the unexpected weight of my brand new forehead protector.
”I can imagine. It is much the same in my family; father is a tokubetsu Jounin and since he has the Sharingan he spends a lot of time outside of the village.”
Nikkei sniffs irritably, leaning back a bit in her chair to look down her nose at me.
”My dad's a full Jounin. Front line combat, one of the strongest ninken partnersh_i_p_s in a century!”
I blinked, slightly taken aback by her aggressive posture, but I make a recovery soon enough, offering up another slightly bland smile.
”Oh wow! That's impressive! I hope I get to meet him one day, he's sounds really cool. I wish I had a partner I could rely on like that!”
My kunoichi teammate smirked quizzically at me in slightly nonplussed condescension but seemed pleased at my flattery regardless, even though she clearly expected more arrogance from an Uchiha. Wasabi gave her an unimpressed look, but before the laconic boy could say anything to disturb her I asked him another question.
”What about you Wasabi-san? Does your clan have any cool techniques?”
People always like to talk about themselves, it's a near universal failing of humans. Even people who describe themselves as shy or introverted like talking about themselves for you are always the most important thing as far as your brain is concerned.
My teammate proves this by sitting up a little and smiling a bit at my show of interest.
”Oh, yeah. It's not a Bloodline or anything, but the Shimura hold the summoning contract of the Tapir Clan, and we're all really good at nature transformations. Check it out!”
He concentrated on a kunai pulled from a pocket, and after a moment it began to waver with faint heat lines. I whistled appreciatively, and even Nikkei seemed reluctantly impressed. It was a pretty decent feat for a rookie Genin, at least one who wasn't named Itachi or Kakashi.
We ended up waiting for a fairly long while for our sensei to arrive, and I tried to keep up a low level of small talk and mild flattery in the hopes of building up a little team spirit. We'd have to be extraordinarily unlucky to get somebody touting around an exam as difficult for a new team as the bell test was, but there was almost certainly going to be some form of examination from our new sensei and teamwork was a major virtue in Konoha; it couldn't hurt to start generating an air of camaraderie.
When the door finally opened, I was actually in a pretty good mood, despite myself. Wasabi had a very dry sense of humor, and liked slipping in a bit of innuendo to see Nikkei flush. She of course denied that he was making her uncomfortable, but her blazing blush said otherwise. I looked up to see who had entered and my smile became formaldehyde quality fixed as I took in the gravity defying mop of hair and slanted forehead protector.
Kakashi blinked at us placidly.
”My first impression of you guys… idiots.”
. . .
As I followed my teammates and sensei to the roof my smile remained as genuine as I could fake, which was pretty genuine indeed, but inside my head was spinning and my feet felt like lead weights as they tread on the cement steps.
Did the universe actually want me to die? It had always seemed like hyperbole, a lie to keep me motivated, a challenge from the cosmos themselves to which I replied with a scream of defiance. But this…
Was I in hell? Or maybe purgatory? Being punished for the sins of a past life? To have almost-chances dangled before me, only to be tugged away at the last moment; It seemed unreasonably cruel to go about it in this way. I loved my mother, and she was going to die. What had she ever done? Why? Just… why?
This was not the Kakashi of Naruto's time. This was not the Kakashi who had more than a decade of life in ANBU to work through the pain of losing his sensei and surrogate family. It was even odds we were the first Genin team he was going to evaluate, fair chance that the mere sight of fresh faced kids filled him with disgust and self-loathing. His face was blank, but was that a trace of hostility I saw? I couldn't quite stop my cheek from twitching as I carefully maintained the cheerful and attentive facade.
I would fail the bell test. The only teams that passed did so on luck; it was an idiotic testing method for children who had never met each other before and had no hardening against psychological warfare. I would fail, and then I would die. Genin who failed their sensei's exam faced one of two options: either bounced back to the academy for another year, or joining the Genin pool. The pool was a dead end; without proper training from an experienced ninja scraping a promotion to Chunin would take years, at best. The academy wouldn't work either, I didn't have time to waste in that den of mediocrity for another year.
I felt a sort of surreal calm settle on me as the pristine white clouds drifted overhead. This was it then. I was going to die because of… heh, luck of the draw. Once more. It sort of lent credence to the theory that this was hell: there were so many things that might have gone differently that would have made life easier. If I was a year older I wouldn't have to worry as much. If I was a year younger, I could maybe beg for mercy, or at least live knowing that it was utterly futile to even try. Save myself the effort of working my fingers to the bone on the training posts almost every night for five years straight.
Hatake gave his non introduction, and the muscles of my jaw tightened imperceptibly.
No.
I hadn't worked this long and this hard just so this angsty asshole could give me yet another death sentence. I hadn't let that f_u_c_k_i_n_g Chunin instructor kill me with his 'average' evaluation; I would be damned if this social cripple did it with his indifference.
He must have heard my teeth grinding, for his attention fell on me; half lidded, bored gaze definitely becoming a trifle cool as he looked me over.
”Why don't we start with you Smiles?”
My face stretched wider in reflexive response, before I experienced a frozen moment of panic. What should I say?
”Hey there! My name's Uchiha Hiroki. I like…” my mother, no, don't say that, idiot, ”trees!” Nice. Moron. ” ...and dango!”
There, that was normal enough.
”I dislike people who betray their friends.”
Okay, weird looks, might be coming on a bit too heavy there.
”My hobbies are training and… um... cat, watching?”
Skeptical looks from the Inuzuka and Dog summoner. Brilliant f_u_c_k_i_n_g job.
”My dream for the future is to survive to my twelfth birthday and to be an asset for the village!”
F_u_c_k it, might as well go all in. Cue vaguely disturbed looks from my fellow Genin and the continuation of the flat, apathetic stare from my Jounin sensei.
Kakashi blinked languidly.
”...Uh huh. Alrighty then, Mutt, how bout you?”
I shivered slightly at the sudden release of tension as we shifted our collective attention onto what Nikkei had to say. That was awful. Worse, it was counterproductive to survival.
Pity was the death of cooperation. If my teammates thought I was too weak they would never play out the bell test as it had to be done, they wouldn't want me to pass, 'for my own good'. Intolerable. I had to act fast.
When Kakashi left us with the admonition to not eat breakfast before the test tommorow I immediately turned to my two teammates.
”Hey, how's about we get a little practice in before we all head home? I know he said we should rest up for tomorrow, but a little spar to keep our skills sharp can't hurt, right? And it'll help us get a better sense of how each of us can fit in on the team. Even if we haven't passed the test yet, we can still see if we work out together.”
Wasabi yawned hugely.
”I think I'll pass.”
My smile became slightly brittle.
”Ah, come on, what, scared to get beaten by an eight year old?”
I put a bit of laugh into it to keep the tone light. Too light, apparently.
”Oh you know it. I wouldn't want to be so shamed in front of a pretty lady like Nikkei-chan.”
He hopped off the roof and began making his way off across the rooftops of the village. I felt my last ergs of hope trickling away but I turned to Nikkei anyway, an inquisitive, hopeful expression on my face.
”Nah, I got some stuff to do. Want to be really prepared for whatever Hatake-sensei has planned for us. You should probably go home too, you've been twitchy all day. An early night will do you good, shortstuff.”
My smile remained fixed on my face as my last ditch attempt at survival fled into the late afternoon, the expression growing ever harsher as the light began to fade, distended shadows throwing my features into jagged relief.
Fine. If they wouldn't help me, I'd just have to help them even harder to make up for it.
. . .
”Hey guys! I made bentos, in case things end up going a little late. I brought some little snacks too; I asked my mom and she pointed out that technically we just don't want to overeat before a heavy workout, but having something light in your stomach can help keep you going.”
Nikkei blinked at me in surprise as I presented the garishly wrapped orange and yellow packages, but Wasabi nodded appreciatively.
”Cool. I thought the same way, actually; I had a few pieces of fruit for breakfast.”
I gave him a big smile and turned to Nikkei with a slightly hopeful look, a protein bar extended. She huffed in irritation but grabbed the snack from me anyway, ripping into it aggressively.
”Disobeying orders already?”
F_u_c_k. He wasn't supposed to be here for at least another hour. Big smiles.
”Well Hatake-sensei, you didn't order us not to eat, you just advised we'd probably throw up if we did. I assume this was part of the assessment as we'd only throw up if we ate improperly, not if we ate at all.”
A flat stare, single grey eye blinking slowly in the exposed wedge of skin.
”Hmm. Well. I suppose we might as well get started then.”
Two bells. Two winners. One loser. I saw Nikkei and Wasabi give me sidelong looks, but I kept smiling, crinkled eyes and all. Kakashi didn't seem to buy it. There were faint lines under his visible eye that spoke of long nights and hard choices, the green of his flak jacket scuffed and worn from heavy use, and I could once more feel the creeping sensation of death getting closer.
My smile just grew more teeth.
The team split the moment he said go, and I made an effort to be as quiet as possible approaching Nikkei where she was hid in the brush.
”Pst! Hey, I think this might be a trick. You ever hear about two person Genin teams?”
She scowled at me and made little shooing motions.
”Jounin's rules. Besides, he might be planning on taking the winners as apprentices.”
I gave her a skeptical look in return.
”Two at once? Aren't apprenticesh_i_p_s usually on an individual basis?”
”You two talk too much.”
I activated a Replacement, but there was a fist already in position at my arrival point. Only a flicker of Sharingan saved me from a blow which would have knocked the wind out of me; as it was I barely managed to get my arms up in time to absorb some of the hit. I would likely have my share of bruises in the morning.
I gave Kakashi my flattest smile as I massaged the backs of my forearms, basically just showing him teeth. He's a dog, he'll figure it out.
”You're a Jounin, sensei, if you can't detect our chakra signatures from a hundred meters, I'll eat my forehead protector. I certainly don't know how to hide my chakra, and I don't think my teammates do either. So stealth is irrelevant unless you deliberately handicap yourself. A proposition which seems unlikely, as you instructed us to come at you with intent to kill.”
Another flat stare. This is not good. I'm not sure what's real, what I'm misreading, what I'm projecting, and what is merely comparison to a half-remembered future. Kakashi used to be lazy, not indifferent, an affectation of unconcern over a core of warm affability. The Kakashi of Team Seven was a little silly, a little carefree, a little more… secure. This Kakashi is…
I don't know.
I know in canon this team didn't pass. That begs the question of why Team Seven did pass. They barely showed any teamwork. Nepotism? Firm instruction from the Hokage? A sense of camaraderie with that particular team: elite loner, ditzy girl, struggling deadlast that wants to be Hokage? Was success even possible here, or was his judgment already passed, the weight of memory still too heavy on his shoulders for a new team?
I hadn't been idle while I pondered. I had gotten in a few good… attempted hits with Nikkei and Wasabi. But not both of them together. They seemed to believe, probably correctly, that their victory against me was assured, however that just meant they were in competition with each other and I was only able to help one of them out at a time, alternating between them as best I could to help make openings and exploit their suicidal charges.
I caught my breath for a second near the edge of the clearing as I quickly scanned the treeline for my teammates, shoving aside the growing ache of chakra exhaustion. Wasabi was going to try another futile trap; useless, as fire element charged kunai aren't any faster or less subtle than the ordinary sort. Nikkei was being overly direct again; she trusted her ninken, but the Inuzuka learn pair tactics first, not groups. She overextended in her strike and another heavy sweeping kick was coming towards her back; she couldn't really weather another bad hit like that.
The Substitution was sloppy, spur of the moment, and left me disoriented for long enough that I didn't block the kick meant for Nikkei. I slammed into a tree on the side of the field hard enough I could feel my ribs creak and my breath was forced out in a woosh carrying with it a spray of blood from my busted lips.
The buzzer rang.
Kakashi stared at me for a long moment as I tried to get my breath back.
”Disappointing.”
. . .
I ended up tied to the stump, but honestly I needed it. I didn't trust myself to stay upright without the ropes.
”You better not share any of your food with Hiroki, he's being punished for being so reckless.”
Kakashi disappeared in a swirl of leaves, and the soon to be stillborn Squad 19 was left alone on the quiet training ground.
I stared vacantly at the obsidian memorial stone across the field, brain ticking over without direction.
At least my name would be recorded there, probably. I wasn't a hundred percent on what the protocol was for ninja who died in the line of duty, but in their civilian capacity. Maybe. Probably not. It probably wouldn't hurt too much, Itachi was very skilled, very fast; I'd never even notice the blow coming at this skill level, just walking along one day and…
I blinked and the sound of someone talking to me finally registered.
”Why did you do that?! I could have handled it! You're just a kid, you got really hurt!”
I sighed apathetically and let my head thunk against the training post, eyes pointed at the yelling Inuzuka but unfocused.
”And? Age is irrelevant, only skill matters. I'm the least skilled member of the team. I should always be first in the line of fire to protect you and Wasabi.”
The aforementioned boy grimaced as his name came up, mouth pulling down at the corners in sour disagreement.
”Don't be stupid. You're eight, you graduated four years early, you're a prodigy.”
I shook my head slowly, eyes still focused on the future and the swirling red and black that would herald the end of Hiroki. My reply was monotone.
”No. I checked the exam results. I scored in the bottom 5 for our class. Yeah, I graduated, but my overall skill level is lower than either of yours. That's how they balance the teams: Rookie of the year, Kunoichi of the year, Deadlast. Me. Graduating early means you are skilled for your age, not that your absolute ability is actually notable when compared to others.”
”Shut up!”
I didn't respond as Nikkei got up in my face, the sound of screams echoing in my ears as I turned my thoughts on mother, her face covered in blood and eyes blank pits. Dead. All dead, futile effort, spitting into the wind...
”That's not true and you know it! You graduated before most kids even start playing with kunai, you deserve that headband! When sensei gets back we'll get that stupid bell!”
The bento was thrust into my face and I blinked uncomprehendingly at it. She jiggled it imperatively at me as I continued to stare apathetically at the steaming rice. Wasabi scowled and moved up to offer me some of his as well, spearing a dumpling on a chopstick and pushing it towards my face.