We Are Shinobi (Naruto Fanfic)

1: Suicide Mission

Hey fam! This story was originally posted on one of my other accounts before I deleted it a few years ago. Luckily, I still had it downloaded on my phone so it wasn't lost. I have decided to re-type it with modifications and in a present-tense first person, more suited to my current writing preference. I hope you all love this story and I can't wait to see where we take it.

Alas, enjoy. ~R

"But sir-" I am cut off by the angry sound of a fist against a desk. I wince under his glare and refuse to lift my head, remaining in my bowed position on the floor in front of him.

"-There are no exceptions to the program!" he roars. I am pretty sure I see one of the guards flinch at his anger. I stay silent, not daring to move a muscle. "Dismissed."

With that, I quickly make my way out of his office, avoiding all eye contact with him. I can practically feel his glare drilling into the back of my head.

I grumble to myself as I walk the streets of the quiet village. Had I asked too much? Is it too much to ask to be dismissed of my ninja duties?

Ninjas in this land don't go far. We're poorly trained and use cheap weapons because that's all our land can afford. When we're sent on missions against other lands and villages, we just end up dying. To me, every mission is a suicide mission.

To say you are a ninja of my land is the equivalent of saying you're a sacrificial piece of the Village of Dreams.

I take a deep breath of the moderately cool air as I walk back to my home. People stare at me when I pass. They turn to their families and friends, murmuring things while keeping their eyes locked warily on me.

I know they are pitying me. Of the 500 people in this village, only 25 or so are ninja. Most of our decently trained Shinobi died during the war. We're not sent on missions very often and most of our time is spent training to be prepared in the event our village is attacked.

Of that 25, ten are ninjas in training. Four teens and six children. The other teens are the only people I really talk to. What sucks is that I can't talk to them about girly things 'cause they're all guys. Sigh.

I look up at the sky and see the clouds rolling by. It's easy, a cloud's life. I'm envious. The sun isn't out, leaving a grey sky. Arriving at home, I jog up the three flights of stairs and enter my small single-bedroom apartment.

Nobody is home. I live alone. After my parents found out I was bring elected as a Shinobi, they kicked me out. They didn't want to deal with the agony of their kid inevitably dying on a mission so they decided to just get rid of me... or something. They're both a bit traumatized--both their parents died in the second Shinobi war, and a bunch of their friends died in the third. They're not quite right in the head.

I quickly take a shower and walk to my bedroom. As I am grabbing clothes to sleep in, my eyes catch on a small picture frame in the bottom of my drawer. It is covered in clothes when I pick it up and wipe a layer of dust off.

My memory kicks in when I realize that the picture is from...

"Please cooperate. You know Lord-Hiashi won't be pleased if we don't get this picture..." the camera man states, as he moves my white hair off my face.

"I don't wanna be a Shinobi," I say. "I don't wanna die..." the last part I whisper more to myself than anyone. He adjusts his camera and gets behind it.

"You need this picture, miss. It's what admits you into the ninja files." I look into the camera. No smile comes to my face. It takes everything to keep the water from spilling out of my eyes. The camera makes a snap. "Do you want to see it before I submit?" I shake my head nonchalantly, a tear falling from my eye. He sighs, "I will take this to Lord-Hiashi now then." I watch as he picks up his camera and quickly makes his way toward Hiashi-Sama's office.