Open Ninjutsu is your friend [CLASS]

[Sabaku Rika]

Inside the Dome, everything always felt too tight. Too enclosed. Safe, sure—but stifling. The village was built to survive, not to breathe, and that made proper Ninjutsu demonstrations a headache. Most areas were packed wall-to-wall with buildings, streets, and people who really didn’t appreciate accidental scorch marks or concussive blasts. There were only a handful of places open enough to cut loose without causing structural or political problems.

Near the perimeter, where the Dome curved high and wide, the space opened up just enough. Roughly twenty meters of clearance, plenty of room to throw a blast or two, test control, and still not get yelled at by some exhausted administrator. It wasn’t perfect, but it was freedom compared to the rest of the village. She’d already done things properly. Paperwork filed. Permission granted. Stamps acquired. A miracle, really. The flyer had gone up at the Academy earlier that day, handwritten, blunt, and impossible to miss. An open invitation to anyone who wanted to learn more about Ninjutsu. Or anyone desperate enough to admit they needed help.

Rika decided to run a class.

It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment choice. She’d thought about it more than she let on. Promotion to Chuunin came with expectations, responsibilities, and the unspoken reality that she’d now be working alongside people who would one day be her equals… or her burdens. She’d taken a look at the current Academy roster out of curiosity and found it bloated. Bigger than it had been in her time. And worse, full of names she didn’t recognize. That meant potential. Or weakness. She didn’t know which yet, but she wasn’t interested in dragging dead weight up the ranks with her. If she was going to work beside these kids someday, she wanted to know who was worth the effort. The simplest solution was action. Teach them. Push them. See who broke and who didn’t.

Being promoted to Chuunin hadn’t shocked her. She hadn’t expected the timing, maybe, but not the result. It was just another rung on the ladder. Another step toward something higher.

'Time to see if this batch has any potential,' Rika thought as she stepped out onto the field. She didn’t bother easing into it.

“All right, twerps—meet your teacher! Me!” Rika stepped forward with confidence bordering on arrogance. Her long black hair flowed like spilled ink with the motion, catching the light as she moved. Jade-green eyes gleamed with sharp amusement, and a grin was already plastered across her face as she crossed her arms over her chest, clearly enjoying herself.

She was dressed for work. A black cowl rested around her shoulders, paired with a tan overall skirt and a cream-colored undershirt. Black pants and sleeves completed the look, practical, clean, and ready for combat if things went sideways. Not that she expected trouble… but she welcomed it.

Slightly taller than average for her age at 4'8", Rika carried herself like someone twice as old. Twelve years old, and already shaped by relentless training and a reckless willingness to abuse time itself like a personal punching bag. It showed. She stood like she belonged there.

Rika Sabaku had a mountain’s worth of Ninjutsu knowledge, the confidence to use it, and at least one hundred and ten different ways to kick someone’s ass if they decided to question her authority.

Class was officially in session.

 

[Chikamatsu Zuto]

It had been a pretty calm morning. A rested one for sure as his blue eyes opened to stare at the sand-dial clock gently pouring it’s twelve-hour cycle. An hour and a half past the time he was supposed to get up. The child blinked at the late timing of his awakening before sighing heavily. Why bother? The thought blazed through his mind first, testing the boy’s will to fight sleep; to continue on in the realm of his perfect design. A gentle glint of the sunlight caught his eye.

Shimmering off of the golden lotus tsuba, a beam of golden life cut through a small opening in his blackout curtains. The hilt of the blade glittered gently, as diamond rays glittered off the small hammering notches on the flower petals. Something within stirred. Suddenly the bed felt hot, and his skin of an itchy sort. He flung the covers off hoping to alleviate the feelings of anxious hyperactivity that boiled at his core. The child that he was wanted to not stay inside all day sleeping, again.

Zuto was just barely making it through Academy. His studies on Genjutsu were still faltering heavily, and the fellow school of Ninjutsu wasn’t far behind. He had only a small edge on physical strength but that was just mostly genetics; his chakra control was next to nothing. So far the studies was as struggle, and he could barely grasp any reason to keep on other than a loose promise made to relative he’d seen only once. The sun shifted in the time he had spent trying to fight his restless body, and caught a better angle of the tsuba to outright flashbang the kid.

With a groan, he finally sat up on the edge of the bed. The beam of light now gently glanced off his thin side as he stared at the beautiful sword. Nothing else seemed to matter. The rest of his little apartment was a mess again. Trash bags stacking up by the door, instant food containers littering the kitchen counter. A nonchalant scorpion scurried away with something in its claws near the sink; yeah, it was home. The only real clean space was the little shrine he had created to home his sword above the trash below.

Hopping off the bed, Zuto grabbed his overalls and tossed them over his shoulder before shuffling lazily towards the bathroom. A moment later and he hobbled out to grab his weapon, open his bread draw and briefly fight a scorpion for a slice, and left his apartment.

The smell of stale desert air rose up to greet him. He could almost feel the rumbling beneath his feet for the first time ever. They said it was because of the attack, they had to keep going for awhile; but never had he felt like he was on a moving surface before. Why was he out here anyways? The weapon on his back felt suddenly warm, like it was trying to push him out to…do, something. He didn’t want to though. There wasn’t any use for someone like him…

His head, a piece of bread hanging from betwixt his lips, starting to hang down as melancholia gripped the child’s mind again. Then the sudden rustle of a sheet of paper caught his noticed before the wind literally slapped it against his face. Zuto’s left hand sprang on reflex and smacked his own face, again, but the paper stayed while the wind roared to carry it away. Once the throbbing pain in his nose died down, the Chikamatsu pulled the page away and read the flyer. A free class? He did check off every last mark, and wondered what this person could do that others teachers had failed. He eyed the time and location…if he left now…

The young Chikamatsu arrived, he thought, second on the scene shortly after another girl around his age had. He waited nervously there in the open area. Generally it was off limits to Students like themselves because of the levels of ninjutsu that would get thrown around here. He saw the black marks and battle scars already torn into the open area, and then back over to the girl; wondering, when would the teacher show up.

Once Rika turned and suddenly announced themselves as that person who had posted the flyer, Zuto’s heart dropped. His mouth turned into a full frown. A part of himself had actually tried to hype up to learn something, maybe big, that could help him catch up where he was flailing. Instead, he got someone his own age pretending to be a teacher and clearly setting a trap to get some kind of game going.

He sighed and shrugged. Already here, he thought. Maybe he’d actually get a chance to play.

 

[Otsuka Sumire]

Bright and early, as the artificial sun rose over the village, casting its manufactured warmth across the sandstone buildings, Sumi pulled herself out of sleep and away from the nightmare that had plagued her these last several weeks. Always the same; her family fighting and dying for their freedom while she remained frozen in place, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to help. Unfortunately, the lack of voice continued into her waking hours, as if she could no longer fully escape the nightmare that had become her reality.

Sure, she was safe here in Sunagakure. Well taken care of by the older couple who had shouldered the task of being her foster parents with surprising grace. They were kind people, normal folks, not shinobi; citizens whose children had long since grown up and taken over the family business, leaving them to be retired and bored. She supposed it hadn't been an easy decision to take in a traumatized and grieving little girl, and she was determined not to make their lives any more difficult than necessary. Her entire life had been spent simply trudging along with the hardships that came with the life of a nomad in the harsh desert, so that is what she would do now. No matter how much she wished she could just curl up and leave it all behind, to follow her parents and the rest of her family to wherever they were now. she also knew, deep in her bones, that they would never want that for her. She needed to keep moving forward, to keep their memories alive through action rather than mourning.

With a deep, steadying sigh, viridian eyes popped open to the light of the sunrise. The hearty girl rolled out of bed to dress for the day in a simple linen gi and long shorts with cloth wraps wound carefully around her hands and feet for protection. Pulling her long auburn hair up into a bushy ponytail, she forced herself to meet her own eyes in the mirror briefly - seeing the hollow look that still hadn't quite faded - before shaking her head and heading out to see if anyone else was awake yet. As soon as she opened her bedroom door, however, she could hear that her foster mother was already up and about in the kitchen, softly humming a pleasant melody. Shuffling up the hall and around the corner, she peeked around the door frame to see the silver-haired woman sliding a loaf of bread into the oven, flour still dusting her weathered hands, before she turned around and gave a small jump.

"Oh! Dear, you have got to stop sneaking up on me like that. My old heart can't take it," her teasing expression softened immediately as she saw the regret fill the girl's eyes, guilt flashing across young features, and she closed the oven with her foot to hurry forward and pull her into a gentle hug. "Not to worry, I've got a lot of years in me yet. You couldn't frighten me away if you tried."

Closing her eyes, Sumire welcomed the embrace with one of her own, pressing her cheek into the woman's soft waist, breathing in the comforting scent of bread dough and cinnamon, before her arms loosened and she felt a weathered hand smooth over her hair affectionately.

"Tsk, before I forget, I have something for you that might make things a little easier." Waddling over into the sitting room off the hall, the old woman bent down with a soft grunt to pull a small wrapped parcel out of a drawer, her face lighting up with a warm smile before she settled into a cushioned but worn armchair and held the small object out to her charge with both hands.

Sumi followed her guardian closely and watched as she retrieved the gift, her green eyes sparkling with something approaching excitement; an emotion she hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. The item was wrapped with simple brown packing paper, but the woman had taken the time to paint an array of purple stars across its surface and tied it all with a carefully knotted purple ribbon. Taking the package with hesitant hands, she looked back at the woman, unsure if she should accept more when they had already given so much. Of course, her uncertainty was met with an encouraging smile and a gentle nod. "Go on, sweetheart."

Never having received a gift so carefully wrapped in paper the young girl started to remove the wrappings with reverent fingers, taking great care not to rip anything, which resulted in a rather slow but deliberate process. Nevertheless, she eventually exposed the object inside and ran her chubby fingers over the cover of a brand new notepad with neatly lined paper and a supple leather cover that smelled faintly of oil and craftsmanship. Tucked into the spirals on the top of the notepad was a full ink-pen made from carved animal bone, its surface polished smooth and decorated with tiny etched patterns. Tears threatened to prick her eyes as she looked down at the practical and very thoughtful gift but she threw herself into her foster mother's arms before her tear ducts could betray her.

"Oof!" Throwing her arms around the girl reflexively, she chuckled warmly before continuing, "Well then, you're very welcome, sweetheart." Another affectionate pat on the head and she gently pushed her away to meet her jade-green eyes once again, her own watery with emotion. "Along with this gift, we enrolled you in the academy at the Toraono Dojo." Another look of panic from her charge, and she pushed through quickly, "We both think the structure will do you some good. Give you something to focus on."

Sumi stared back briefly, processing this information, before she gave a decisive nod and hugged her brand new notebook to her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"Now then, that's not so hard, is it?" The old woman chuckled and chucked the girl gently under the chin before hefting herself back to her feet with great difficulty, her knees protesting audibly, and shuffling back toward the kitchen to grab an already sliced piece of bread from the counter and hand it to her. "Why don't you run over to the Dojo and see if there are any classes you could attend today? No sense putting it off."

The girl made a small affirmative noise as she took a bite of the soft, still-warm bread and shuffled off again, this time being sure to make some noise as she moved toward the front door and out into the village proper. Having already spent several days exploring the majority of the surface of Sunagakure, wandering the streets in an effort to familiarize herself with this strange new home, the small nomad girl knew exactly how to get to the Toraono Dojo and made her way there through several winding alleyways and side streets. This part of the village, at least, felt somewhat like searching through caves in the desert for their quarry, and her sense of direction had taken to it like a fish to water; though some might say she navigated the urban maze more like a fish out of water given her desert upbringing.

Still, the fact that the village was moving threw off her equilibrium slightly, especially as it was moving a little more swiftly these days. Used to walking in shifting sands that moved with the wind, the huge solid tank city felt fundamentally alien beneath her feet, all mechanical rumbling and steady momentum rather than natural drift. But she was slowly acclimating to the feeling and knew that soon it would feel like home, as much as she tried to fight it. The smells of the city, however, had held her interest since the first time she had encountered the market, her nose leading her through the streets like a bloodhound. Used to a fare of mostly grilled meats and simple flatbreads, the fragrance of spices the likes of which Sumi had never imagined assailed her senses in the best way. It was a struggle to deny the allure of the market district and the early morning air that was permeated with the smells of smoking meats and fresh-baked goods just pulled from clay ovens, but the young shinobi-hopeful was on a mission that, for once, had nothing to do with food.

As she directed her bare feet through the doors of the Toraono Dojo, feeling the cool stone beneath her soles, a large board with a multitude of flyers caught her eye and she wandered over to peruse them, eyes scanning the various announcements and class schedules. Immediately, one colorful handwritten flyer demanded her attention, its bright ink and enthusiastic lettering standing out from the more formal postings, and something approaching a smile curled the corners of her lips for the first time in weeks. There was even time to grab herself a proper breakfast if she hurried, and she could try out her new notepad!

—

Some time later, Sumire - with a much happier belly filled with sweet rice balls and pickled vegetables, and a slightly lighter coin-pouch tucked back into her pocket - the rotund little girl wandered over to the perimeter as the flyer had instructed and glanced around, clutching her notebook against her chest. Just as she arrived, the dark-haired girl who really didn't look much older than Sumi herself stepped forward to announce herself as the person who would be teaching them. A couple of surprised blinks were the auburn-haired girl's response, eyebrows rising slightly, but she continued forward anyway. She was already here, after all. What was the harm?

 

[Momoku]

Momoku was having a decidedly bad morning, all things considered. He had woken up late, still not used to the artificial sun and the smell of the fake air. As clean as it was, he could still detect the faint stagnancy of recycled and filtered oxygen, and without sight, he relied on the heat of the real sun to wake him; it just wasn't the same.

After stumbling through his apartment, he stubbed his big toe twice. Then he proceeded to burn his toast, tie his shoes wrong, and miss the buttons on his shirt. It was, indeed, up to that point, a fairly decent morning! Only stubbed his toe twice. "Getting Better" he thought to himself smugly, as he put his vest on and checked his many pockets. The lad had been getting much better at navigating the apartment alone"Unless the maid keeps moving the furniture" he thought, using the excuse that was quickly becoming his go-to for falling over things in and around his small home.

No, the bad part of Momoku's day really began when he made a simple mistake: he made a wrong turn. While this is a common enough occurrence, the issue was that the lad had been practicing a route to the dojo nearby, hoping to get stronger, to do more. But making that one turn had thrown off his entire route, leading Momoku to the last place he wanted to be: the Market.

It was fire and spice and sweat. It was cooking meat, merchants yelling out their wares, dogs barking, and the calls of birds; it was chaos. Momoku staggered against the side of a building, or what he hoped was a building. Honestly, he couldn't tell. It was hard enough most days to just navigate the path between his home and the convenience store nearby. It was the rumbling of the city that did it most days; so disorienting trying to feel his way around when everything around him was constantly shaking, if only slightly. This was too much for Momoku, and he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach onto the wall he was leaning on.

He stumbled away in a random direction, as far away as he could get from the smells. In his stumbling retreat, he heard someone say, "Meet your teacher! Me!" and a spark of hope hit him. It's the class I was headed for. Score! he thought as he straightened up and felt around his many pockets for the prickly one where he kept his napkins. After wiping the mess off his face, Momoku took up a confident stance and walked toward the voices.

 

[Chikamatsu Ayaka]

Chikamatsu Ayaka had almost turned around three times.

The first time was when she saw the flyer at the Academy. Bold handwriting, confident strokes, the kind that belonged to someone who knew exactly what they were doing. She'd stared at it for a full three and a half minutes, fingers twisting and playing with the white flower that was normally tucked behind her ear, before copying down the location with trembling hands onto a scratch piece of paper.

The second time was in the halfway to the Dome's perimeter, when she realized she'd be learning alongside other students. Strangers. People who would see her fail. Her feet had actually stopped moving, and she'd stood frozen in the middle of the street until an irritated merchant brushed past her with a cart of medicinal herbs, slightly clipping her shoulder. The familiar scent of yarrow and chamomile had somehow steadied her enough to keep walking.

The third time was now, as she approached the clearing and heard a confident voice announce "All right, twerps—meet your teacher! Me!"

The teacher was... a girl. Someone who couldn't be much older than Ayaka herself, if at all. Dark hair, jade-green eyes, and an air of absolute certainty that made Ayaka's stomach twist with something between envy and terror. There were already other students here—a boy with a sword on his back who looked distinctly unimpressed and kinda familiar, a sturdy girl with auburn hair clutching a notebook, and another boy who seemed slightly unsteady on his feet.

Ayaka's first instinct was to leave, to run away, to hide behind whatever she could find. This was clearly a mistake. She didn't belong here with these people who probably all knew basic techniques and could actually perform them. But her feet, traitors that they were, kept moving forward of their own accord, drawn by some desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, like pretty please someone help me kinda maybe, someone could help her stop being such a complete failure.

She approached the group slowly, making herself as small as possible, which wasn't difficult given her size. Her white and blue robes were immaculate as always, the Chikamatsu yurei orchid symbol on her sleeve catching the artificial light. The white flower in her blonde braid trembled slightly as she moved, matching the nervous flutter in her chest.

When she reached the edge of the group, she stopped, golden eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Her hands found her sleeves immediately, fingers twisting the fabric as she tried to make herself invisible through sheer force of will.

She should say something. Introduce herself. That's what normal people did.

But the words stuck in her throat like always, and she could feel her face heating up just from the thought of everyone looking at her. So instead, she just stood there, silent and small, hoping desperately that she could somehow learn without having to actually speak or be noticed or do anything that would reveal just how far behind everyone else she truly was.

The flower in her hair shifted as she risked the briefest glance up at the teacher before her gaze dropped back to safety.

Please don't call on me first. Please don't call on me first. Please don't— she thought to her self on repeat.

 

[Yoru]

Today was finally the day! My family had mentioned to me the other day that they had enrolled me in classes at the Academy that were hosted at the Toraono Clan and today, I was going to be taking my first step into the great wide open world of being a shinobi. There was a slight nervousness - butterflies as I read or heard mama say before - but that was natural when doing anything new in life I believe. The class itself was going to be on Ninjutsu which would be an interesting first topic for me as I heard from my parents that I had a strong sense of chakra within me and that was required to do many things that the adults did in the village as shinobi. Although, I was not sure what a Ninjutsu was or if it would be something that I would want to focus on in my studies, but that was okay as trying new things and potentially failing was a part of life. None of us could get better if we weren't allowed to fail according to Papa which meant that every one of us in the village including the Kazekage and the other well-known shinobi had failed countless times before and became better from it. This made me slightly relived and eased my nervousness a little.

It would not take long before I arrived at the place that was mentioned on the flyer and it seemed I was arriving right on time as other individuals around my age had also began to appear. In total, there looked to be four other students here ready to learn and see what they could do in their current state which would have a lasting impact on their futures or so I thought as I knew this would all affect us even if we all had different thoughts in our minds. I, for one, noticed the flyer seemed to be written slightly unprofessional from official documents and mail that we received at home that Mama and Papa took care of, but I saw while eating with them or passing by. It was colorful and eye-catching for sure, but that little ninja on it was not something I would expect from the Academy of the village. But then again, it might have been designed that way to grab our attention as children as it was cute.

The one student was also funny as she announced that she was the teacher of the class - she couldn't be the teacher unless she was some prodigy. I giggled at the thought and asked her nicely: "You are also a student, yes? You seem young to be a teacher." She was also rather short in comparison to me - I was around 5'4" and she looked around a half inch shorter than me. Then again, all of these other children that I assumed were my classmates were short - maybe I was just tall for my age? I knew growth spurts happened at different times in life depending on biological factors. Either way, this class would be informative and fun I believed - yes, this was going to be a great class!

 

[Tsuchigumo Maya]

The walk to the perimeter felt less like a journey to a classroom and more like a march to the gallows.

Maya had checked the flyer a few times before leaving the safety of the Silken Hollow. She had checked her reflection in the hallway mirror twice that, ensuring every strand of her jet-black hair was perfectly in place and that her high-collared, deep violet tunic was unwrinkled. Her parents had bought the outfit for her Academy start—it was silk, reinforced with chakra-conductive thread, beautiful and expensive. It made her feel like a doll wrapped in decorative paper, fragile and entirely out of place among the sandstone and grit of the training grounds.

When the clearing came into view, the young Tsuchigumo froze behind the corner of a supply shed, her breath hitching in her chest.

‘Too many people,’ she thought, her jade-green eyes widening as she peeked out. ‘There are already so many people.’

She wanted to turn around. The urge to flee back to her room and hide under her covers was a physical weight in her stomach. But the weight of her parents' expectant smiles was heavier. She had to do this. She had to be a ninja. She had to be normal.

Forcing her legs to move, Maya stepped into the open space, her posture stiff and practiced, arms glued to her sides as if making herself smaller would render her invisible.

She scanned the group, her gaze flitting nervously from person to person. There was a boy with a sword that looked far too large for him (Zuto)—weapons made her nervous. There was a girl with a notebook (Sumire) who looked kind, which was a small relief. A boy who seemed to be stumbling (Momoku) caused a flicker of concern behind her stoic mask, and a tall boy (Yoru) was speaking comfortably to the... teacher?

Maya’s gaze finally landed on the person shouting at the front.

‘That... is the teacher?’

The girl (Rika) was small. She was Maya’s height, exactly. She had black hair, like Maya. And when the girl turned, Maya felt a strange, cold jolt run down her spine. Those eyes. They were jade green. Sharp, fierce, and burning with a confidence that Maya had never felt in her entire life.

It was like looking into a distorted mirror. Where Maya was a statue of repressed nerves and silence, this girl was an explosion of motion and arrogance. Maya instinctively looked down, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't know why, but looking at that girl made her feel dizzy, like the world was tilting slightly to the left. It was intimidating. It was terrifying.

‘She’s a child,’ Maya reasoned, clutching the hem of her tunic. ‘How can she teach us? Is this a joke? Or is she just that much better than me?’

Her eyes darted to the side and found a small blonde girl (Ayaka) hiding in her robes. Maya felt a sudden, desperate kinship with the stranger. ‘She looks like she wants to disappear too,’ Maya thought. ‘I’m not the only one.’

Quietly, like a ghost haunting the edges of the gathering, Maya drifted toward the back of the group. She positioned herself near the notebook girl and the shy blonde, avoiding the loud teacher and the boy with the sword. She didn't say a word. She simply stood there, pale and statue-still, clutching her elbows and staring at the ground, waiting for the disaster to begin.

[MFT]
WC: 580/1000
Post: 1/5