The boy with the curly hair stiffened, as his opponent backed away. He clutched at his stomach and sank to his knees as an ugly, dark brown patch spread across the yellow shirt he was wearing. A jonin wearing a medic’s band on his arm rushed over to tend to the boy as the adjudicator raised the victor’s arm to mark his win.
Fuuka was not standing particularly close to the ring, but the details of the fight seemed unnaturally sharp and vivid while the murmurings of the crowd and the faces of the people around her seemed indistinct and murky.
“...ka”
Worse though was the feeling in Fuuka’s stomach. All morning she had been jittery and faintly nervous, the remnants of her breakfast bouncing around inside of her as if trying to mount a daring escape. Just now all of that had faded, to be replaced with… nothing, a sickening emptiness as if she had been hollowed out.
“...uuka?”
She was not ready to go out there, she was disgustingly unprepared. Why had they told her it would be okay? No that wasn’t fair, why had she lied to them? Why had she smiled reassuringly and spun nonsense about how well her training was going at home, how she didn’t want to show them so she had something up her sleeve? When sensei had given her her recommendation for the exam last and seemed to hesitate, why had she gone out of her way to reassure him? To glibly promise that she would work extra hard before the exam to catch up to the others?
“FUUKA!”
Fuuka flinched as she suddenly realized Haru’s wide, friendly face had taken up nearly half her vision, his big, brown eyes regarding her with his usual mixture of amusement and vague, idle concern.
“You’re spacing out again,” Haru said, extending a robust, sausage-like finger to poke Fuuka in the forehead. “And you’re kinda clammy looking. You eat something off maybe?”
“I...yuuh..yes,” Fuuka said finally. Her throat felt scratchy and when her voice came out it was weak and uncertain. “I...think I need to go to the bathroom.” Fuukka said, pushing herself up from the hard, plastic chair she had been sitting in.
“You remember where it is right?” asked Yoritomo. Fuuka’s sensei had given the impression of being totally absorbed in the matches, his enormous, muscular frame hunched over in the seat that was far too small for him, one hand thoughtfully tugging at his messy beard. “First door on the left after you leave the arena. No. no wait second door, first is the men’s, don’t use that one kiddo,”
Haru sniggered and Fuuka forced herself to laugh weakly as well. “No I remember, I’ll be back soon,” she said, turning to leave, she got about two steps away before she felt a sharp pressure on her shoulder.
“Kurokawa, don’t be late getting back,” Fuuka turned back to look at the long, slender fingers holding her shoulder with surprising strength, her eyes tracing the graceful arm attached to them up to the refined features and stern, blue eyes of her other teammate. “Your match is first for us and if you don’t at least get in the ring it will reflect badly on us all,” said Yuna, her face betraying a rare trace of emotion as she grimaced. “We’re teammates after all,”
“If you’re that worried about her, why don’t you just go as well, Yuna?” asked Haru, scratching his nose. “That’s what girls do isn’t it? They go to the bathroom together?”
“Can you not speak about girls as if one has ever voluntarily spoken to you,” Yuna said, turning undisguised contempt on her male teammate.
As Haru launched into a heated and familiar diatribe on his girlfriend that none of them had met because she lived in the next town over, Fuuka took advantage of the distraction to wriggle out of Yuna’s grip.
“I’ll be back soon,” Fuuka stuttered, turning tail and jogging for the exit. “Don’t worry!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How can I possibly go back there?
Fuuka stared at her knees, pulled up to her chest as though they provided some scant measure of security against the outside world. It was cold here, in this bathroom and the harsh scent of whatever chemicals they used to clean the place stung her eyes and nostrils. It wasn’t a pleasant place to hide.
Rather than wondering why I lied… why didn’t I just make it the truth? Fuuka wondered, clutching at her temples. Why didn’t I just practise harder? Or ask for help? Or do anything except pretend it would all go away and fix itself? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! But even if I say that it’s still too late to do anything about it now, why did I think I could do this? If I had just quit sooner it would have been fine but now Yuna and Haru will fail too! BUT I CAN’T JUST- I’LL MESS IT UP IN FRONT OF ALL THESE PEOPLE AND-
“KUROKAWA!”
Fuuka straightened up, her eyes widened as she recognized Yuna’s voice. It was distant, she was probably at the toilets close to their seats, while Fuuka had deliberately chosen the second, further away set, but Yuna would check here next and it wouldn’t take her long to arrive if she decided to run. If she decided to use body flickers then it would be seconds.
I… I can’t see her like this! Fuuka thought, her eyes wildly scanning the bathroom. I have to hide! That was when she spotted the air vent in the ceiling. Fuuka was pretty far from the most athletic person in her class but she was still, at the very least, a genin and it only took her one jump to pull the grill down from the vent and a second to haul herself up into it, channelling chakra into her fingers to improve her grip as she scrambled upwards and then pulled up the vent after her, holding it in place as she waited silently.
“Combatants Fuma Tokiwa and Kurokawa Fuuka to the stage please” Came a crisp, female voice over the loudspeakers, reaching even Fuuuka in her dismal little hiding place. Fuuka’s throat tightened.
“Combatant Kurokawa Fuuka, to the stage please,” came the voice again, firm but polite as Kuuka bit her lip and focused on slowing her rapid breathing.
“Combatant-” “KUROKAWA!” came Yuna’s voice as the bathroom door clattered open forcefully, causing Fuuka to cover her mouth with her hands. “Are you in here!?” Yuna’s voice demanded “You’re about to forfeit your match! Is that what you want!”
For a single moment Fuuka considered bursting out of the vents and going along with Yuna, but the fantasy died instantly. How would she ever explain what she had been doing hiding in a vent? And even after that she would just be right back where she started: staring down a battle she was totally unprepared for. It made her stomach churn with guilt but Fuuka remained silent and hidden.
“FINE!” Yelled Yuna from below and there came a clang that made Fuuka flinch. It sounded like Yuna had kicked the metal rubbish bin near the door. “Run away and hide wherever you are! I don’t know what else I expected! That's all you know how to do! You hear me Kurokawa!? Kurokawa?
“Miss Kurokawa?”
Fuuka blinked suddenly and let out a dismayed squeak, she had drifted off into memory in the office of the Chowakage! In front of the man himself!”
“S-Sorry!” Fuuka said quickly, wishing fervently that the sleek, leather chair she was sitting in would swallow her up and sink into the marble floor below. “Uhmm, what were we talking about again?” she stuttered, her voice cracking.
Ryohei Sakurai, the Chowakage was a handsome man in his early fifties. Sakurai had thick, reddish brown hair that he kept neatly styled and pulled back and he wore a pair of dark green, rectangular reading glasses from behind which he regarded Fuuka with a look of kindly sympathy.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“I was just asking if you wanted some tea,” said Sakurai, smiling softly and raising a modern looking, glass teapot filled with amber coloured, steaming tea, slivers of apple skin and shards of cinnamon bark slowly sinking to the bottom of the pot.
“Oh uhh, no thank you,” muttered Fuuka, looking down at her feet. From the polished surface of the marble floor Fuuka’s watery, chocolate eyes looked back up at her from within a pale, uneasy face and a curtain of long, dark hair. The reflection confirmed Fuuka’s suspicion that she looked absurdly out of place in the Chowakage’s luxurious office.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” asked Sakurai as he poured himself a cup. “It’s quite delicious, one of my favourite varieties,”
“Um, alright then,” Fuuka said, although she hardly felt like drinking anything as her stomach tied itself in knots
“Very wise,” said Sakurai contentedly as he poured a second cup of tea and slid the aromatic beverage across to Fuuka’s side of his massive desk. “I think you’ll enjoy it. They make it from a particular variety of apple grown near Hanagakure. The orchards are quite a sight, although they wouldn’t have been blooming while you were there. In any case I suppose you wouldn’t have had much time for sightseeing,”
No… we didn’t quite get out to the orchards I don’t think,” Fuuka managed, rewarding herself with a sip of tea that prevented her from having to say anything else for a moment. The tea seemed to just taste like hot water to Fuuka, although that might just be because she was too distracted to taste it.
“This species of apple is smaller and more bitter compared to most variants, so much so that it was originally considered unsuitable for cultivation, nobody really liked eating it,”
Sakurai looked expectantly at Fuuka so she nodded cautiously and he continued speaking, apparently satisfied.
“Eventually though it was discovered, almost by accident, that that same bitterness makes it ideal for brewing tea,”
Sakurai paused again and this time Fuuka felt that she was supposed to say something. “I see,” Fuuka said and Sakurai nodded sagely as though she did.
“I suppose my point is something like this,” Sakurai said. “With some apples it takes us a little longer to figure out what they’re best for. Some are good for eating fresh, some are good for tea, yet others are best for baking pies. Some apples take us a little longer to find the right place for than others but that’s no fault of the apples themselves. People, I believe, are much like apples in that respect,”
“I...think I understand,” Fuuka said quietly, speaking truthfully for once. It was obvious now, she’d never belonged with her teammates.
“Right now you might be feeling a bit disappointed in yourself or like you’ve hit a setback but I urge you not to think of it like that,” Sakurai said. “You might not be walking exactly the same path as your teammates but that doesn’t make it incorrect or inferior. You’ll continue to grow from the experiences you have from this point forward, they might even give you some unique advantages that they won’t have.
“Right,” Fuuka said, then forced herself to swallow a mouthful of flavourless tea. This was it, he was being very gentle about it but he was getting ready to expel her. Or wait, she wasn’t technically a student anymore so...fired? Discharged? Arres-
“Wonderful, I’m glad you understand,” Sakurai said, leaning forward in his seat slightly. “With that in mind I’d like to move forwards and introduce you to your new team as possible,”
“I understand why you have to do this and I don’t- huh?” Fuuka said, as her brain stopped to actually register what the Chowakage was saying.
“Your new team dear, I think you should meet them as soon as possible,” said Sakurai patiently. “Today might be a bit sudden and it’s probably been long enough for you already but maybe tomorrow?
“I’m uhh… not being discharged?” Fuuka asked, eliciting a look of polite puzzlement from the Chowakage.
“Discharged what-? Oh, my, heavens no. We aren’t such a large hidden village that we can afford to throw promising young shinobi away over something like this.” Said Sakurai. “It's just that your teammates Haru and Yuna will be moving onto more difficult missions as chunin and we don’t think that will be the best environment for you to learn in. Training alongside multiple teams and spending some extra time as a genin can be a valuable experience. Most shinobi don’t pass the exam on their first try you know and most aren’t even nominated to take it after only a year,”
“I think I knew that,” Fuuka said weakly. “Yoritomo sensei might have mentioned something like that,”
“But it can be hard to keep something like that in mind when you’re training alongside ambitious teammates,” Sakurai said gently. “Haru and especially Yuna are both from very old families who have very high expectations for them, which they have both tried very hard to answer, in their own ways. You don’t have to compare yourself to them, or indeed to anyone,”
“Yeah,” Fuuka said quietly, feeling as though there was something else she wanted to say. Before she could figure out what that was there was a sharp knock on the door to the office.
“Lord Chowakage, I have Shimamura here for you,” came a crisp, female voice from behind the door and Sakurai’s eyes flicked upwards in that direction for a moment before returning to meet Fuuka’s.
“I’m afraid we might have to cut this short Miss Kurokawa,” Sakurai said. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off hmm? We’ll send a scroll to notify you of the arrangements for your new assignment in the morning,”
“O-Okay,” Fuuka said, awkwardly unfurling herself from the wide, leather chair she had been perched on and standing up as Sakurai angled himself around her to address his door.
“Send her in please Mika,” Sakurai called cheerfully. “Oh but don’t worry about tea, I still have some here. Goodbye Miss Kurokawa, try not to be too hard on yourself, tomorrow’s a new day,” Sakurai added as Kurokawa bowed and awkwardly backed out of the office, nearly bumping into the Chowakage’s stern secretary on her way out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fuuka emerged, blinking and a little shell shocked, into the light and chaotic soundscape of Chowaku city proper. Fuuka had heard that shinobi in other villages lived in carefully hidden, remote locations far away from civilians. The valley in the Land of Peace where she had gone for the exam had been like that, rugged and isolated. But Chowaku was different, it was both a city of regular people and a hidden ninja village all rolled into one. Scattered throughout the city were homes, businesses and infrastructure that secretly held double roles as listening posts, weaponsmiths and safehouses, just from where she was standing outside the Chowakage’s office Fuuka could see a few such places. There was the street vendor across the road who was really a sentry for the office; there was the apartment building just around the corner whose entire fourth floor was reinforced and stockpiled with various ninja tools like shuriken, kunai knives and even explosive tags. This was the reason for the city of Chowaku’s other name: Gunshugakure, the village hidden among crowds. This was after all the hidden village of the Land of Harmony and like other hidden villages of the New world it was designed to try and embody the ideals of its founders.
Someone in the throng of pedestrians bumped into Fuuka, knocking her off balance for a moment and she realised with a flush of embarrassment that she had been standing in the walkway with her head in the clouds for a little while now. As if suddenly aware that she was paying attention to her environment again, Fuuka’s stomach rumbled insistently, reminding her that she had been too nervous to eat breakfast before her meeting with the Chowakage.
With nothing better to do for the moment, Fuuka decided to get something to eat. The street vendor here might secretly be a guard but he did actually offer a pretty tasty chicken skewer, so Fuuka took a place at the back of the modest queue and began fishing around in her pouch for her coin purse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So what did you think?” The Chowakage asked, pouring out a fresh cup of tea as his next appointment sat down in the chair across from him. She was a lean, wiry woman with her brown hair in a shaggy bob and she was wearing the standard Gunshu uniform: a grey, knee length coat with armour padding sewn into the lining, intended to more closely resemble civilian clothing than that of the other villages. The woman, Miho Shimamura, slumped tiredly in her seat and let out a sigh, her breath playing with the tips of her fringe.
“This isn’t going to work, she can’t hack it,” said Shimamura.
“A harsh assessment,” said Sakurai with a mild smile. “Her grades were quite good you know, no real specialty but well rounded,”
“I wasn't talking about her grades and you know it,” said Shimamura, fixing her superior with a hard stare, her eyes were deep-set, with tired looking dark circles underneath them. “She was ready to hand over her protector and walk out of here a civilian and that’s to say nothing of her conduct during the exam. Cowardice is the one sin a shinobi can’t commit,”
“Sins can always be forgiven though, can’t they Miho?” Said Sakurai pleasantly, his eyes fell from hers to the scattered papers on his desk but it didn’t feel like a retreat, instead Shimamura tensed subtly as if stung.
“I would rather say they can be paid for,” she said. “And they aren’t cheap,”
“Then shall we consider Miss Kurokawa an investment?” said Sakurai. “For now I would like you to train her, or atleast test her with an open mind. If after that you truly think her unsuitable then we can discuss her retirement at that juncture,”
Shimamura’s jaw tightened and then she expelled a sharp, hissing sigh. “Fine. I’ll test her, it’s a tradition anyway. But if she fails then I want her done, not moved around to be some other squad’s problem,”
“Very well,” Sakurai agreed with a slight nod. “I take it you don’t have any issues with the other two then?”
“They wouldn’t be my first choice exactly,” Said Shimamura with a grimace. “But they can be whipped into shape at least, the core of what a shinobi needs is already there,”
“Oh? And what would that be?” Sakurai asked, his expression almost playful.
“Hunger,”