TW: Injuries. Little bit of trauma in this one. Shocked/ sad Keigo
剣
CHAPTER 7
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Give me three good reasons against it.
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"Class...teacher?", I repeated slowly, completely in shock. Then I jumped up and, keeping a sharp eye on them, walked backwards away from the two men.
"No! Never! End of discussion." I declared firmly. In the time before my father left the village, I had attended and successfully graduated from the academy in Kirigakure for about a year. I was five at the time. The teachers were unfriendly, the other students were afraid of me and missions that father secretly took me on as training were a lot more exciting.
"Give me three good reasons against it. Apart from the fact that it's my class," Aizawa demanded dryly and I stared him down. Then I raised my hand and counted off on my fingers.
"First of all, I haven't done anything bad or done anything wrong since I've been here," Keigo raised his eyebrows. All right, I had once cut off the power to the house, scared away a delivery man because I thought he was a burglar, and nearly burned down the kitchen in my first encounter with the microwave.
I hadn't done anything dangerous for the general public. Yes, I should put it like this.
"There's no need for punishment," I continued, seeing the blonde fowl nod slightly. An evening of Hawk's home-cooked grub had made me rethink my mistakes.
"Secondly, I loathe this horrible learning institution, so my presence may actually disrupt the lessons greatly." Aizawa looked at me blankly.
"Three, I'll go fucking crazy if I'm cooped up with little five-year-olds all day and-" Keigo snorted, and I wasn't sure if he was laughing at me or at the homeless man.
"Five-five-year-olds!" he crowed, and we gave him an annoyed look in sync. This was an important discussion. The black-haired man leaned back with a sigh and stretched his legs.
"Where do you get five-year-olds from?" he asked now and I was confused. He had been talking about school after all. "It's about a high school, the students are all fifteen, or older-"
"FIFTEEN?!", I gasped, staring at him. "By Kami and Jashin, what are those guys still doing in school then? Are they idiots or something?" The Winged Blond had regained his composure, got up from the floor and squatted back on the sofa.
"Sword girl, you attend school until you come of age at eighteen." HUH?!? I sat there completely still, staring at the floor. Of age...at eighteen? What was that supposed to mean? In Kiri, you were lucky if you turned eighteen at all! When I was born, the third shinobi war had just ended and the civil war of Kirigakure had begun. I was four when I had killed side by side with my father and shortly afterwards with Haku, too, outsiders who wanted to raid our house! I burst into hoarse laughter. That was all bullshit. Ignoring the confused looks of the two men, I dropped to my side and closed my eyes for a few moments before I started up again, almost obsessively. I haven't tried it today!
So I formed the finger signs I was already far too familiar with: Mi and Tora.
"Kai!", I called out. Nothing happened. Of course it didn't. I had tried this too often. I just wanted to wake up, after all.
"She does that every day at least three times," I heard Hawks whisper.
"So, Momochi, what do you find so laughable about school right now?", Aizawa let absolutely nothing rattle him. Groaning, I rubbed my nose and looked at him wearily.
"I was of age when I did my first mission for my village. At six, I was done with school. On average, we finish the academy at ten - much earlier in times of war.If you don't make it, you can spend the rest of your life as a cleaning lady." Silence descended on the room.
"When do you start school?", Keigo was a little too quiet for me right now. That was creepy. But I was just done with everything, so I answered the questions without thinking too much.
"When you're five. At the earliest."
"So you finished school in a year? Five years of classes is incredibly little, but one?"
"I was just good. My father trained me a lot."
"At five?", he asked. I snorted.
"No, of course not until I was eighteen. When I was of age." my voice dripped with sarcasm. What did they expect here?
To grow up sheltered, have lots of friends, be happy and enjoy life? Bullshit.
Such a thing was impossible, that had been clear to me since I was a toddler and even the most naive children in all of Mizu-no-kuni weren't that stupid.
Not even that strange blond boy from the bridge back then had believed in something impossible like living a peacefull life in a world that was full of shinobi. No one did.
"But why so early?" asked Keigo. I stood up with a sigh and squatted on the floor directly in front of them. They looked at me in confusion as I just sat there silently for a few minutes, doing nothing. Then I raised my eyes.
"I'm going to tell you something now, poultry, so prick up your ears. Then hopefully we'll be done with the questioning: where I come from, from Kirigakure, without training, you'll be dead long, long before you turn eighteen." I didn't know if it was because I spoke so seriously or something else, but this time no one laughed and no one raised an eyebrow.
Without wasting much thought, I slipped the gauntlet down my right arm, revealing scarred skin.
Abrasions.
Healed burn blisters.
Cuts.
Bad, still visible stitches.
It was all there.
The full repertoire of a shinobi.
For the umpteenth time I ignored the surging reactions, in this case startled looks and a shocked gasp from Hawks.
"These, my friends, are very painful signs of too little training," I explained, a dry smile on my face.
I ran my finger over three light-coloured nicks that still stood out sharply, all about six centimetres long. They came from several, very precise kunai:
"Seven years old."
My hand moved on to dark marks on my elbow, reminders that it was better to avoid fire jutsus:
"Ten years." I recited, then pointing at last to the long, jagged scar that ran down the whole half of my forearm to my thumb. The duckbut from the bridge two years ago.
"And here I was thirteen." I pulled the fabric back up and stood up. Without paying any further attention to the two, slightly paralysed individuals, I left the room.
YOU ARE READING
剣 - SᗯOᖇᗪ || Naruto x BNHA
Fanfiction°°° Momochi Zara had died in battle; drowned in the sea of Mizu-no-kuni. As she slipped into the deep blue, she didn't regret. Maybe it was good that way. Kami had other plans. For suddenly she awoke again, falling from the sky, in the middle of Mu...
