Numb
seven
Three Years Ago
The Leaf training grounds were empty that evening, void of all life—the trees had lost their leaves, had given way to winter in form of their bark becoming brittle, painful under my skin. Blood crept to the surface of the palms of my hands, staining the already soiled bandages around my wrists and hands. The Jounin that had led us there stood in the center of the clearing, arms folded across his back and a faint smile spread over his lips, waiting for us to attack. The bells tied to his waist chimed as he turned around, making a small circle in the snow; he didn’t know where we were aside from the fact that we were hidden somewhere in the trees. “If this were a hostage situation,” he called, his voice ringing through the woods around us, “they would be dead by now. You both know that, don’t you? You probably don’t care.”
I didn’t know where Shinobu was hidden, having strayed from his side shortly after the exercise began. We were to act as a team, something that wouldn’t be a problem for either of us. He would understand the direction I was going in, just as I would understand his if he struck first. Then, I waited, my arms wrapped around myself to protect myself from the cold. One of the shinobi had given me a new, clean shirt, which I had pulled on over my old one, hoping that it would bring some sort of warmth to me. It hadn’t. My bag, at the bottom of the tree I was sitting in, held the jacket that I had kept for all of those winters, though it hardly fit. If I reached to get it, the Jounin would surely throw kunai at me.
Shinobu moved first, striking from behind with one quick, blunt strike to the back of his head. They began to fight, moving quickly and efficiently; I had joined them before the Jounin could even begin to think about using one of his jutsu. The eye that he covered undoubtedly had something to do with his jutsu, though he hadn’t even moved to uncover it. His one eye widened in surprise when Shinobu and I moved forward at the same time, our bodies in synch, hitting his shoulders back so that he fell, sliding across the ground to the other side of the clearing. We quickly moved toward him, reaching toward the bells, but just as soon as we reached him I felt the cold metal of a kunai pressed against my throat.
The Jounin on the ground before us disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and I could hear his heavy breathing behind me. “You fight well,” he murmured, and tightened his grip around my waist, pulling me away from my brother. “But you need to think before you strike. Nin have tricks up their sleeves, as you just realized. Now. Where were we?”
My brother charged toward him, pulling a kunai out of the holster, but the Jounin easily dodged his attack. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he said, his tone reprimanding. I heard him curse under his breath as he nearly got hit with one of the kunai that Shinobu threw at him, his grip on my waist loosening. I took the opportunity, kicking his legs out from beneath him—with only a few quick jabs, I had him pinned to the ground, breathing heavily. I pulled the bells away from his belt and tossed one to my brother, a grin forming on my lips. It felt good to win, especially against someone that had so obviously doubted our abilities.
“Fine,” he panted, “you got me. I applaud your efforts, Shinobu, though I must say that I’m more impressed with Mei’s fighting abilities.”
Shinobu shrugged, looking at the bell in his hands. “What will you tell the Hokage?”
I nodded, wanting to his hear answer just as much as my brother. The Hokage was the one who had sent us to the training grounds in the first place, asking the Jounin to report back to him once he had learned what our fighting style was. If he thought that we were ready for the Chunin exams, we would be enrolled in the exams as Mist nin; if he reported back that we weren’t skilled enough, we would be sent on our way. Come back next year, maybe the year after that, one of the nin had said, their eyes fixed on ours, when you’ve garnered more experience, more know-how. You’re too young now. The Hokage didn’t seem to think so, but his opinion of us meant nothing if the Jounin didn’t think we were ready.
“I will tell him what I know. You’re very skilled, but you need more time to train.” He glanced over at the two of us, offering what appeared to be a smile. “I am going to offer to train you myself. You will be able to take the Chunin exams this summer, when you’ve had more experience in missions and formal training. Does that sound good to you?”
“Thank you,” I said, and smiled back at him, warmth coursing through my body.
The Leaf training grounds were empty that evening, void of all life—the trees had lost their leaves, had given way to winter in form of their bark becoming brittle, painful under my skin. Blood crept to the surface of the palms of my hands, staining the already soiled bandages around my wrists and hands. The Jounin that had led us there stood in the center of the clearing, arms folded across his back and a faint smile spread over his lips, waiting for us to attack. The bells tied to his waist chimed as he turned around, making a small circle in the snow; he didn’t know where we were aside from the fact that we were hidden somewhere in the trees. “If this were a hostage situation,” he called, his voice ringing through the woods around us, “they would be dead by now. You both know that, don’t you? You probably don’t care.”
I didn’t know where Shinobu was hidden, having strayed from his side shortly after the exercise began. We were to act as a team, something that wouldn’t be a problem for either of us. He would understand the direction I was going in, just as I would understand his if he struck first. Then, I waited, my arms wrapped around myself to protect myself from the cold. One of the shinobi had given me a new, clean shirt, which I had pulled on over my old one, hoping that it would bring some sort of warmth to me. It hadn’t. My bag, at the bottom of the tree I was sitting in, held the jacket that I had kept for all of those winters, though it hardly fit. If I reached to get it, the Jounin would surely throw kunai at me.
Shinobu moved first, striking from behind with one quick, blunt strike to the back of his head. They began to fight, moving quickly and efficiently; I had joined them before the Jounin could even begin to think about using one of his jutsu. The eye that he covered undoubtedly had something to do with his jutsu, though he hadn’t even moved to uncover it. His one eye widened in surprise when Shinobu and I moved forward at the same time, our bodies in synch, hitting his shoulders back so that he fell, sliding across the ground to the other side of the clearing. We quickly moved toward him, reaching toward the bells, but just as soon as we reached him I felt the cold metal of a kunai pressed against my throat.
The Jounin on the ground before us disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and I could hear his heavy breathing behind me. “You fight well,” he murmured, and tightened his grip around my waist, pulling me away from my brother. “But you need to think before you strike. Nin have tricks up their sleeves, as you just realized. Now. Where were we?”
My brother charged toward him, pulling a kunai out of the holster, but the Jounin easily dodged his attack. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he said, his tone reprimanding. I heard him curse under his breath as he nearly got hit with one of the kunai that Shinobu threw at him, his grip on my waist loosening. I took the opportunity, kicking his legs out from beneath him—with only a few quick jabs, I had him pinned to the ground, breathing heavily. I pulled the bells away from his belt and tossed one to my brother, a grin forming on my lips. It felt good to win, especially against someone that had so obviously doubted our abilities.
“Fine,” he panted, “you got me. I applaud your efforts, Shinobu, though I must say that I’m more impressed with Mei’s fighting abilities.”
Shinobu shrugged, looking at the bell in his hands. “What will you tell the Hokage?”
I nodded, wanting to his hear answer just as much as my brother. The Hokage was the one who had sent us to the training grounds in the first place, asking the Jounin to report back to him once he had learned what our fighting style was. If he thought that we were ready for the Chunin exams, we would be enrolled in the exams as Mist nin; if he reported back that we weren’t skilled enough, we would be sent on our way. Come back next year, maybe the year after that, one of the nin had said, their eyes fixed on ours, when you’ve garnered more experience, more know-how. You’re too young now. The Hokage didn’t seem to think so, but his opinion of us meant nothing if the Jounin didn’t think we were ready.
“I will tell him what I know. You’re very skilled, but you need more time to train.” He glanced over at the two of us, offering what appeared to be a smile. “I am going to offer to train you myself. You will be able to take the Chunin exams this summer, when you’ve had more experience in missions and formal training. Does that sound good to you?”
“Thank you,” I said, and smiled back at him, warmth coursing through my body.
♠ ♠ ♠
thanks for reading!