Blood Red Memories

All at once, Reina’s fear of people was compounded by the fact that in the cramped, hot room, all eyes were suddenly on her. All the gazes pierced through her and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe; all the while, the chattering school representative introduced her to the class, going to great lengths to explain her importance and talent to be admitted into a higher class.

Reina stood, frozen, in the doorway. This can’t be school. Wasn’t it supposed to be fun? She had heard that at some point, but found it unbelievable. Her thoughts were racing. Reina had to get out, go somewhere, anywhere but this room where she squirmed like a dying beetle in a killing jar.

“Reina, you may take a seat, there. Go on,” she heard finally and mechanically, slowly moved across the room to an empty desk on the front row. After a moment, the sensei continued the lesson as if she had never entered the room and all eyes were instead on the chalk board, scrolls, or gazing lazily out the rounded windows to the barren sand dunes.

Gradually, Reina began to relax, looking around the classroom with curiosity. All in all, it was just a plain, empty room. The walls were a neutral beige color, and the only defining feature of the room was the chalkboard at the front and the rows of desks receding into the back of the room. Nothing threatening about that, except the languishing heat which made her feel sticky and tired.

She decided this was survivable, but definitely not enjoyable. And she would tell Hiram so the very next chance she got and demand that he tell the chattering school representative that she wouldn’t be back. All the while she was planning this in a day dream, the sensei continued to talk about the duties of a ninja, and the importance of loyalty.

“Reina, why don’t you tell us? Do you know who the ninjas of Sunagakure owe their loyalty to? No? I’ll give you a hint: he’s a very important man.” She timidly shook her head no. He was visibly disappointed, but resumed the lesson.

“The Kazekage,” he began louder to the class, “is who all the ninjas in the Land of Wind answer to; he is our military leader and one of the five Kages.” He began to explain the politics of the five great nations and the history of fighting between them. It all seemed very important to him, but Reina only listened casually.

Eventually the lesson ended, after long drawn out detail of several ninja wars. Reina had given in and paid attention when she had run out of things to think about, and stare at; she had tried staring out the window like other students, but there was really nothing to look at except for the sand which can only keep one’s interest for so long. The sensei declared it lunch time and left the classroom as students began to pull bento boxes from their backpacks.

Reina followed suit, unsure of what else to do, and ate alone in silence. A group of girls around her had introduced themselves, but she merely stared at them until their confident, self-assured smiles faded and they shuffled away. She always ate in solitude, except for Kaiyo who hovered around in the kitchen; she had no idea that children would eat together, or that the girls had been extending an offer of friendship when they approached her. And even if she had known, she probably would have reacted with the same indifference.

Once she had finished her lunch, she sat alone and silent again, clueless about what to do next. However, it seemed she was already doing the right thing because everyone else followed suit. When a new, female sensei had shown up, everyone lined up behind her at the door, still without a word. This teacher offered no introduction or endless talk about her uncle. She didn’t even acknowledge Reina’s presence.

This was a teacher she immediately admired. They all followed her out of the school, around to the back where wooden columns were sitting in an open practice field, all the while, never breaking their perfectly straight, single-file line. When everyone had come to a precisely timed stop, she finally spoke.

“Work with kunai today. You may begin.” And that was all. Reina, for once knew how to proceed. Uncle Hiram had once brought her hand carved wooden kunai and shuriken, cut so precisely that they did have sharp edges capable of sticking into walls like real metal ones.

Hiram had made her practice using them under his guidance until she could throw them perfectly. And then he reminded her to always practice before he left. Reina had done so for months. Now, she was being allowed real metal kunai. The feel was different, they were bulkier, heavier. Her first few throws fell short of the target, which caused her new teacher to come closer and watch, reprimanding with her eyes.

Reina ignored it with her own insolent gaze in return and continued practicing, weighing the kunai carefully in her hand. This time, she threw forcefully, eyes narrowed at the target. The kunai struck on the outside of the middle ring. Her sensei began to speak, but she merely reached for three more kunai. Holding them in her right hand, she used her left to launch them in perfectly timed succession, with only a second’s pause between each resounding thack thack thack as they hit exactly around the outside of the bull’s-eye ring.

Purposefully, she strode across the sand to pick up the kunai that had fallen short before, and shot them together into the exact middle, making a small, tightly packed triangle inside her ring. Reina walked slowly back to the sensei, who now, with the rest of the class was staring at her target and at the rest of the row, where kunai had fallen short or missed the target entirely.

She arrived in front of her shell-shocked teacher, with a satisfied smirk waiting for the next command.

Reina left school that day with a group of children around her, still admiring her performance on the practice field earlier. They talked on in awe as she merely shrugged it off and continued her walk home.

“Hey, you don’t say a whole lot,” one girl, Yumi, noticed suddenly. The rest of the group looked at Reina in mortification. They had all realized she wasn’t talking and chose to ignore it, so as not to seem insensitive or get on her bad side.

“What does that matter?” one boy said trying to brush it off with an uneasy smile. “She sure didn’t have to say anything to handle Haruka-sensei.” And with that the conversation was launched back to her kunai skills, and away from the apparently taboo talk about her silence.

It continued much the same until the children spotted a lone figure on the road ahead. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed entirely. “It’s him,” a boy spat hatefully.