Chapter Text
September 30, 8bNb
When class lets out for lunch, I don’t immediately move, letting everyone pass me by on their way out of the room. I take several long moments to just take deep breaths and brace myself. I told Niwaki that I didn’t want to keep avoiding Shichiro and Sosogu, and I meant what I said.
Past two attempts have been a bust, but maybe this time…
It takes more effort than I like to think about to turn in the direction of the usual hangout underneath one of the trees—where windswept waters and brush fires across quaking earth are waiting—instead of running in the opposite direction to meet up with the boisterous bonfire that is Obito.
Now isn’t the time to be getting cold feet. I reach a hand into one of the pockets lining my vest and pull out the rough-soft stone I picked up a while back, tightening my grip around it so that I can feel how its oddly nice texture digs into the meat of my palm.
Breathe in, breathe out.
They are alive. There’s still time.
I can’t seem to calm the anxious flutter that starts up in my chest when I step foot outside and my eyes land on the very people I’ve spent the past week avoiding. For a long moment, all I can see are their lifeless bodies—my blood freezes, my heart skips, my hands clench…
Rough stone biting into skin breaks the illusion my own mind built before me.
We really need to work on that, Scion whispers shakily, sounding sick.
It’s called exposure therapy, Undertaker grits out, and even I can hear the strain in his usual deadpan. Now march.
I force myself to take a step. Then another. Inhale, exhale. I stop just a few feet away from Shichiro and Sosogu. They watched me approach in silence, and now stare up at me with a pained understanding. Sosogu in particular looks especially conflicted, his sharp gaze darting this way and that, to my face, my hand, my feet, back to my hand, then settles on my face.
“May I join you?” My voice sounds distant to my ears even as I barely muster enough inflection to keep the question from coming out toneless and flat.
To my surprise, Sosogu is the first to move. He actually scoots a little to the side, and Shichiro pats the space cleared between the two in invitation. I robotically walk to the indicated spot and all but collapse to the ground, feeling as if whatever strings had been holding me up were just cut. Shichiro is quick to reach out and tug me into a half-hug, a hint of tears lining his eyes.
He’s warm.
Air leaves my lungs in a rush at the realization, and my hand spasms around the rock held tightly in its grip. Only when the sounds of wind across water and fire across earth creep back in do I realize part of my hearing was absent in the first place.
Fuck. It’s just like the end of that damned exercise all over again. Breathe.
“Sorry to make you guys wait,” I barely manage to wheeze out.
An exasperated sound originating from Sosogu’s throat reaches my ears. “The fuck are you talking about? You’re fifty-six days early, dumbass,” he mutters, a hand curling carefully around my empty one.
A strangled laugh escapes me. Oddly specific, but okay.
“You guys want to hang out after class today?” I offer. “Sakumo-san says friends are always welcome to visit.”
“Sure!” Shichiro beams with bright and easy acceptance.
We both turn expectant looks to Sosogu, who scoffs. “An opportunity to skip out on the elders’ thrice-damned etiquette lessons? Sign me the fuck up.”
A bark of laughter escapes me as the hysterical image of a bunch of older Naras attempting to impress the importance of manners upon Sosogu comes to mind. Shichiro must have imagined something similar, because he immediately collapses into a fit of giggles, a good deal of his weight slumping against me.
I catch a brief spark of satisfaction in Sosogu’s half-lidded gaze, and a swell of helplessly fond gratitude sweeps through me. We’ll be okay.
—
When Sakumo comes to pick me up from the Academy, he finds me deep in discussion over the merits of taijutsu versus the myriad available options in bukijutsu with Shichiro and Sosogu.
“If you knuckle down and use your fucking brain to get creative, you can hone your whole damn body into an all-purpose weapon,” is Sosogu’s firm opinion. “So why bother with taking the time to learn how to wield something that’ll limit your ass in the long run?”
“Depending on the weapon, you can increase your range and reach, and even counter some of the weapons an enemy is using more effectively,” I point out, playing Devil’s advocate. Also, seeing as I’m currently in the process of learning how to wield a tantō, I kind of feel like I need to put some effort into defending kenjutsu at the very least, if not bukijutsu in its entirety.
“I think it’s at least good to know how to use a weapon beyond shuriken, senbon, and kunai,” is Shichiro’s contribution. When Sosogu turns his bewildered gaze to the older boy, he gets a shrug and further explanation. “My family may not have the funds to pay for a specialized weapon and the stuff needed to maintain it, but if I manage to disarm an enemy, I think having some basic knowhow of using their weapon against them would go a long ways in increasing my odds of winning that fight.”
That’s cold, Undertaker observes, a note of admiring approval audible in his voice.
I can also very much appreciate the pragmatism behind Shichiro’s reasoning, even as I’m blindsided by his surprisingly brutal logic. Contrary to what one might expect, beating an enemy with their own weapon could occasionally be considered harsh even by shinobi standards. “And you’ll know how to better defend against the weapon in question if you learn the general ins and outs of wielding it,” I add.
Shichiro bobs his head in agreement.
Sosogu subsides, apparently unable or, more likely, unwilling to find further fault with our logic. Case in point, he only responds with a grudging, “Guess you’ve got some good enough points for your shitty weapons. I still think taijutsu is the overall better bet, hands fucking down.”
“Hi, Sakumo-san,” I greet in the lull of the friendly debate. “Can Tachibana-kun and Nara-kun visit today?”
Sakumo smiles faintly, eyes crinkling around the corners as a nostalgic glint brightens them. “So long as your parents are amenable.”
“My old man won’t mind so long as I’m back before the sun’s down,” Sosogu states bluntly, with an astounding lack of invectives that leaves me arching my eyebrows.
“It’s the same for me, but I’ll probably head home in just an hour or two anyway to help with dinner preparation,” Shichiro assures with a lopsided grin and shrug of his shoulders.
I wince. Yeah, I can see why he might; the logistics of preparing a single meal for a household numbering in the double-digits must be quite the daunting undertaking, and a team effort by sheer necessity. Good on Shichiro, for being so conscientious and willing to help without a single complaint.
I shove my hands into my the pockets of my pants. “Any ideas for what you want to do? Most of my hobbies involve drawing or training,” I admit sheepishly.
Sosogu and Shichiro exchange a glance. It’s the latter that answers for the both of them, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his head with an uncertain look on his face. “Can we train together? The last team exercise prior to… um… was… y’know. We didn’t mesh well with our groups.”
The war simulation exercise aside, I did know. Sosogu’s team didn’t respect his assigned role as leader, and one of the members attempted to assume command by throwing their weight around, quite literally and figuratively. They ended up with a black eye and a severely bruised ego for their efforts, which means they got off lightly. If anyone had pulled that shit in the field, they’d either have been summarily executed on the spot or apprehended and shipped straight to T&I.
Shichiro, on the other hand, can adjust to and work well with just about anyone he’s teamed up with, but that doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it by default. Considering the fact his teammates were constantly trash-talking Sosogu, his friend, right in front of him, throughout the entire exercise? Yeah, I bet he wasn’t too thrilled about working with them. It had me gritting my teeth the whole time because, while I wasn’t assigned to his team, I could still hear them.
“Sure,” I answer with a firm nod before looking to Sakumo. “Sakumo-san, would you be willing to help us with running drills and giving us pointers to improve our teamwork?”
Sakumo arches his eyebrows, which has me pausing to reevaluate what I just said. He didn’t bat an eye when it came to supervising my sparring session with Kouga. I’m also pretty sure he’s already caught on to the fact that I always make an effort to extend an invitation to include him in any activities I engage in, so long as he isn’t busy or unavailable. So what gives? I was only asking him for supervision and advice for some team drills—
Ah.
Sakumo’s a Jounin. And Shichiro, Sosogu, and I are just a couple months shy of graduating and earning the rank of Genin, and then being assigned to a Jounin instructor, whose responsibility includes training said Genin in team drills and refining our basic foundations in combat and survival.
I essentially just asked Sakumo to accept the role of Jounin instructor—even if only temporarily—for us.
Does that count as some sort of shinobi faux-pas, or is it just presumptuous?
Fuck it, I’m not gonna take back my words. I set my shoulders and meet his gaze evenly, steadfast but not demanding.
Several moments pass with Sakumo staring back at me with an air of consideration before he huffs and slants me a wry grin. “If you’ll have me, I’d be happy to help.”
Two conspicuous exhalations behind me clue me in to the fact that both Shichiro and Sosogu had been holding their breaths, and only just now released them. Shit. Does that mean my request really was a shinobi faux-pas?
“It would be an honor to learn from you, Hatake-san,” Shichiro declares solemnly, soulful silver-grey eyes regarding Sakumo with genuine relief and admiration.
“What he said,” is Sosogu’s contribution, which basically amounts to the highest of praise despite the seemingly lackluster phrasing.
Show of hands, who thinks we should try our hand at getting those two assigned to the same Genin team as us? Sentinel chimes in.
I can’t see the fragments without stepping into our shared mind-scape, but I’m willing to bet that almost every hand is raised.
Unhand me, Insomniac, I’m withholding judgement until after today’s training session, Undertaker snips testily.
Which isn’t a resounding no from the abrasive and hard to please fragment.
I reluctantly keep my hands tucked into their pockets. If I didn’t think the attempt would work against achieving the desired outcome, I’d be sorely tempted to go through with the proposed course of action.
But one can certainly hope, Mercy addresses my reasoning.
I can indeed, I quietly agree, watching Shichiro come out of his shell of formality to chatter enthusiastically up at an attentive Sakumo while Sosogu slips in the occasional quip or clarification.
I can indeed.