Orientation Day [Class]

[Mikaboshi]

Doctor Kurohane Saito

Tink, tink, tink.

The soft metallic rap of Doctor Saito's gloved fingertips sang out in the empty classroom as he sat impatiently behind the teacher's desk which sat at the head of his newly acquired classroom. Not that he had wanted to acquire a classroom. Or a class. These things were distractions from his work but his superiors had determined that the "illustrious" Doctor Sato needed something to draw his attention away from his laboratory during his last mandatory psyche evaluation. A copy of said evaluation had rapidly found its way into his possession after it had been filed even though subjects were not typically allowed to view the exact text of their own examination and Saito suspected that his brazen disregard for that policy had played a part in this assignment of duty.

Dressed in a coat which was bizarrely equal parts formal clothing and what could only be described as adventuring gear, Doctor Kurohane Saito was a bit of a bizarre sight. His face was hidden behind a smooth gun-metal black helmet that was featureless save for a single band of lens that ran down the center of it which pulsed with a soft glowing light not unlike that of a heartbeat. Perhaps most bizarre about the doctor's appearance was the large tail-like steel appendage which swayed in slow motion behind him and also pulsed with the same eerie light-beat that his helmet did. He sat unmoving behind the teacher's desk save for the strangely slow movement of his "tail", the ghost light of his pulsing "face" and the occasional tap of his steepled fingertips against each other as he waited for his students to arrive.

Tink, tink, tink.

He hated it here in the Academy. Schools were not a place for smart people. This was an indoctrination center where they taught children how to follow orders and be good soldiers. It was a church to the same twin idols of mediocrity and conformity that had hung about Saito's contemporaries, if you could even call them that, his entire career. His life, really. It was those ideals that had landed him here under the misguided notion that playing a part in educating the next generation of Sunagakure shinobi would somehow endear Saito to the ignorant hegemony that he had refused worship as though they were better than him.

Tink, tink, tink.

Before him sat three rows of continuous horizonal desk space, the first rising out of the floor of the classroom with the other two spaced backwards and elevated a few feet from the ground in an even spacing. There was work space enough along each of the three slabs of desk for four students and supplies already laid out in meticulous order in a manner that was not unlike a dinner setting in a well-to-do dining room. There was even a small plastic cup at each of the work spaces filled with crystal clear water and a small plate with a sponge bread sitting upon it off to the side of each setting of yellow lined paper and writing utensils.

Tink, tink, tink.

They had not -- or more accurately would not -- tell him how many students to expect, a matter which annoyed the meticulous doctor immensely. Another facet of this laborious punishment which was no doubt by design to torment him but Saito was nothing if not forward-thinking enough to find value even in such an environment. His time would not be completely wasted.

 

[Tsurara Moriko]

When the notice she received began with 'beginner's class scheduled for,' Moriko almost forgot herself to run off immediately. Instead, she took a few seconds to breathe, calmed down, and read it more thoroughly for the time and classroom. Details were...sparse, other than that, but beginner's was beginner's so it ought to be just right.

The great unknown for her was always people. Moriko had never seen a ton of value in studying people in most ways. Physically, to see how they moved and what level of threat they might be? That made sense. Emotionally, mentally? Not so much. So she wasn't completely sure what to expect from her fellow classmates--or, for that matter, the teacher.

Hopefully 'competence' for the latter, but she wasn't going to hold her breath on the former. Most beginners would likely be true beginners, wouldn't they? How many people attempted things or tried preparing themselves before setting foot in a classroom? Was it common, or rare?

All of this was in the back of her mind as she walked down the halls, inspecting the door numbers carefully. She had a godawful sense of direction and so had arrived early to ensure she wasn't late in trying to find the right room. Possibly too early, considering the layout of the Academy wasn't exactly complicated. Moriko still had faith in her own ability to turn in the complete wrong direction.

This happened three times before she located the classroom listed on the notice she'd been sent. Fortunately she was still somewhat early, which boded well. One foot in the room showed her that she was in fact the first student there, out of a potential possible dozen.

A dozen? Hopefully not. That sounded like a great way to be bumped or nudged by overly touchy-feely people who got in your personal space.

...Was that the teacher?

Moriko peered at the front of the room, blank expression on her face, as she took in the probable teacher. That was definitely an unusual getup. Albeit maybe it was more normal for fully-trained ninja? You could certainly see a diverse array of people walking the gate patrols. This was just a little further out there.

She adjusted the dark red ribbon around her neck and mentally shrugged as she selected a spot on the near side, middle row. Not too conspicious and near an exit. That being said there was only so inconspicuous you could be as one of two people in a room.

Possibly she was supposed to greet the teacher, but Moriko had never been very big on manners or small talk or anything of the like, so she simply slid into place and folded her hands in front of her on the desk.

It didn't seem like a good idea to poke the materials in front of her yet, though she gave them a visual inspection--not fully taking her eyes off the front of the class. It didn't seem likely that any harm of a permanent sort would come to her as a result of being in a classroom in the Academy, but it also didn't hurt to be cautious.

Or, well, suspicious. Cynical? All of that worked, really.

 

[Ringo]

​

“Okay... you can do this. You got this.”

Ringo patted his face and gave himself one final look down as he faced his bedroom’s mirror. His attire was pretty casual and stylish, but it was just form-fitting enough to pass as appropriate gear for the academy. Despite Sunagakure's heat, he wore a thin jacket over his white shirt. His most obvious accessory was his blue-banded goggles. He typically hung his goggles around his neck in public, but he strapped them onto his forehead for today's class. This was his physical way of expressing that he was focused and ready for today's course. Grabbing his pouch filled with some basic ninja tools, he darted off to the academy.

Fortunately for him, his commute wasn't too long. As a local to the Village Hidden in the Sand and as a child of two Chuunin, his modest home was not too far from the academy. He arrived to class early, which was completely intentional. It wasn't like him to stress over school or put too much effort into becoming a ninja; however, a small flame ignited within him due to the disappearance of his parents on their last mission. He had to step up and become strong. It was Mugen Ringo's immediate goal to become a shinobi and rescue his family.

The brown-haired youth soon reached the academy and navigated through its hallways until he found the classroom he was assigned. This wasn't his first rodeo, so he was able to quickly locate it. Ringo took a deep breath before entering class. For a reason unknown to him, he was a bit nervous. He possessed enough social intelligence to mask his nerves, but his palms sure were sweaty.

The boy entered the classroom and immediately noticed his instructor. Initially, a glimmer of curiosity filled the boy's dark eyes. His teacher definitely did not look like your everyday Joe ninja as he was adorned in some type of glowing metal. His appearance was so distracting and unusual that Ringo almost forgot to notice his clashing attire or the similarly glowing tail that swung behind him. His observation only lasted seconds before he greeted his teacher with a customary bow. Averting his eyes to the rest of the classroom, he noticed another early bird on the second row of desks near him. The student already present was slim in stature and had notably light features. The dark red bow around their neck also caught Ringo's eye as he was a fan of accessories himself. If they made noticeable eye contact with him, Ringo would reveal a subtle, kind smile as a form of greeting his classmate.

With a very recent and earnest vow to take his studies seriously, the boy situated himself in the first row and within the center of the classroom. He was wary that this would make him appear like a try-hard, but he also recognized that what he would receive from today's class was more important than how others perceived him. Straightening his posture, locking his eyes forward, and placing his moist palms on the desk before him, Ringo was ready to learn.

[Marked for training]

 

[Jintou]

“One day you'll look back and see that all along: you were blooming.”

• Morgan Harper Nichols

Someone prolific and well-educated probably wrote a thesis once on the role society plays in the realizations of an individual’s true self. You and I can admit— likely easily, that there were points in our lives that served as catalysts for recognizing our true selves. It’s really like you grow up twice; first with puberty and again when you undergo that shocking change. Sure, adulthood, but what I really mean is that point when you realize that the world doesn’t work the way you thought it did. Perception shatters. When that shattering happens it’s suddenly just you, the big cruel world, and a race against mortalitly to a destination of your choosing. To that end, I find it rather misfortunate when another lens— one not of your own design— is placed over your view of this miserable blue ball. Enter the Ninja Academy: a place where the simple souls of children go to learn the arts of war, pride in one’s village, and either the significance or frivolity of honor; results may vary.

Since being enrolled in Sunagakure’s own Ninja Academy just two weeks prior, Jintou, a new villager from a faraway and obscure House Oba, found himself with plenty of time to mull over the question— why should I become a ninja? Unbeknownst to him, many of his peers were on natural courses to become like the predecessors of their noble lineages. Many ninja-to-be were from long lines of powerful houses whose histories run parallel to the village they call home. Jintou might eventually come to envy those who’d approach the starting line of that lifelong race and know the course. Today though, Jintou was coping with a more instinctual sensation— anxiety towards his first day of class.

The hands of a clock hanging in the hallway crept ever closer to the hour Jintou had been dreading for the last three days. Instead of making a swift approach to his seat, this boy was lingering. His soft hands were earth-toned, in contrast to the hazy grey rim of the water fountain he was clutching for dear life. He made an incessant slurping sound as he drank from the fixture for all his little stomach could hold. All things considered, he might have been anticipating a day-long march across the black salt flats with how intent on being hydrated he seemed. But between gulps came the desperate breaths, and full areas around his eyes were distinctly puffy and pained from crying. Big boys don’t cry, but do big ninja?

Probably.

One to linger but never one to be late, Jintou finally drifted into the classroom with only a minute left before the bell’s strike. Wanting to draw as little attention as possible, he dug into the last row at the back, closest seat to the door. He kept his eyes tilted down, attempting to divert attention while using the sea of pale curls on his head like a screen.

With some luck, if any of his new classmates turned to peek at him, they might have seen those diamond-like spheres peeking back at them before shyly looking away. His lips pouted with some returning determination in the face of this strange lecturer across from him and his new peers. He drew a pencil from underneath his crimson cloak and began to furiously take notes despite the lecture not beginning yet. What was he writing? It was a detailed depiction of the bizarre teacher, who seemed alien when compared to everything Jintou knew before this day.

-- Jintou Oba has entered the thread.
--wc600.

 

[Mikaboshi]

Doctor Kurohane Saito

Tink --

The first of his students appeared in the doorway to the classroom and stopped in her tracks apparently taking in the sight of her odd professor who inclined his masked face slightly in her direction, causing the light that ebbed in his helmet to pulse rapidly for a moment as he did the same to her while simultaneously returning her utter silence.

Subject One. Female. Aged between ten and thirteen years. Blue hair. Blue eyes. Pale Skin. Height one hundred and fifty two point four centimeters.

He continued to say nothing out loud as Moriko made her way to her seat though his attention clearly tracked along with her as she moved, his head slowly swiveling to watch her move from where she'd stood in the doorway to the place she chose on the central level of the classroom. It was impossible to tell what was going on inside the steel-clad head of his as he watched her from his seat. Was he waiting for her to eat? Did he want her to? Was it some kind of test?

Saito's head clicked back towards the door as the second of his students arrived and once more, like Moriko, stopped in the doorway to take in the appearance of his apparent teacher.

Subject Two. Male. Aged between ten and thirteen years. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Pale Skin. Height one hundred and fifty nine point four one centimeters.

And just as he had with Moriko, Saito's "gaze" tracked alongside Ringo as the young man moved into the class and took his chosen seat-- this time choosing to sit in the front row rather than pick a middle seat which was not so far back as to imply disinterest or something to hide but not forward enough to encourage attention from the strangely dressed instructor.

Finally, his third student arrived -- not late, but right on time. Any other teacher might have considered such a slim margin between late and on-time a potential sign of ill planning on the part of the student but for a man who desired precision in all things above all else like Doctor Saito such a margin was the closest one could come to perfection.

Subject Three. Male. Aged between --

Saito's thought process was cut irritatingly short by the loud ring of the school bell, drawing his ire in the form of a projectile flung from the tail-like mechanical appendage that had, up to that point, only passively waved at an incredibly slow speed behind him. In a span of a moment, the appendage sprang to life and with a snap of motion sent a thin spike of black metal scything through the air at the place where the bell apparatus hung on the wall where it bit deeply into the device and silenced it. By that time, Jintou had already made his way to his seat and the moment for comparative analysis to his other two subjects was passed.

Three subjects. It shall have to do.

For a bit, the four sat in silence with each other. Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Then thirty... and then, finally Saito raised his left hand which faced the door of the room and with a gesture sent a barely perceptible ripple of chakra through the air at the door causing it to gingerly swing closed and with a light "click" securely lock.

"Subjects, I am Doctor Saito. This is my classroom, such as it is. You may call me Doctor or Sir. From now on you will assist me with my research and I will refer to you by your identification numbers . . ."

He raised his hand and pointed at Moriko.

"One." Then he brought his index finger down and pointed it at Ringo. "Two." Then finally raised his finger once more and directed it at Jintou, now getting his first good look at the young man. ". . . Three."

"Do you understand?"

 

[Mugen Kei]

Unlike the rest of his classmates, this wasn't Kei's first rodeo. Not that this was something to brag about; in fact, it was a detail he'd be playing pretty close to the chest if all went well. If. Sitting on the edge of failing out of Suna's academy system, Kei generally knew better by now than to count on things going well. He'd entered the shinobi school two years prior, filled with wide-eyed optimism and excitement to take this first step toward his dream job. Now at thirteen, his younger cousin and all of his friends had graduated on ahead of him while he spent yet another year in the classroom, no closer to graduation or discovering any natural talent he had than when he started. His life actually seemed rather plagued by Murphy's law, never better evidenced than by this very school day morning. As the redhead sauntered around the Mugen family home in pajamas, sleepily looking for something to eat for breakfast, one of his younger cousins peeped at him from the table, "Kei, aren't you late?"

"Huh? Nah, Ringo's never late and he's still here…"

"Uh he left like…awhile ago."

. . .

'Can't believe he didn't even make sure I was awake!' Much as he adored his younger cousin, Kei couldn't help but feel frustrated as he barreled down the few streets separating their home from the academy on a skateboard. He'd dressed in a frenzy, wearing a neon yellow hoodie he'd worn two days in a row prior with his cobalt blue backpack zipped open and blowing in the wind barely hanging on to its contents, his hair wilder than usual as it stuck out from his headband. "'Scuse me, sorry!" He called out as he cut a corner and narrowly avoided collision with a cabbage merchant. Truly it was a hobby poorly suited to the environment. Kicking up sand and nearly wiping out repeatedly as the plastic wheels threatened to peel out over even a pebble, one might wonder why the boy didn't just run to class. Sure, if he knew how to use chakra that might be faster. Rub it in, why don't you.

Thankfully the commute was short, but in a race against the clock Kei grinned when he saw the front doors propped open. He continued on his board through the halls, drifting through the stragglers that waited in the halls until the last moment. Knowing his way around pretty well he didn't need to scan room numbers or anything like that, but he would need to descend a flight of stairs. Despite the panic that had hit him at the house when he realized he'd be late, a certain level of adrenaline filled the boy as he flew past disapproving teachers starting their classes and finally as he kicked the board up to grind the rail down to the ground floor. The wheels hit the floor as the bell rang, like hitting a basket at the buzzer - except he was certain another detention would be awaiting him by the end of the day instead of a trophy, but honestly by this point what else was new.

Kei dismounted his board and kicked it up as he approached the classroom, latching it in to the front straps of his bag and closing the still sagging folder pocket. The door was already shut, and while some stricter instructors would turn away students who didn't make it in before the door closed Kei hoped for the best and walked in without hesitation. Confidence was key, or something like that.

"One. Two. Three. Do you understand?"

The redhead had very little time to react to the bizarre sight that greeted him at the front of the classroom. He'd missed his introduction, and instead had just caught the robot-lizard-man assigning each of his classmates a number. Hiding his stupor toward his teacher's appearance and embarrassment of being late in front of his peers, Kei smiled with a quick bow as he walked to take a seat next to Ringo-- who had, of course, chosen a spot in the front row, where he wouldn't be able to hide or doodle at all.

"Yup," Kei called as Dr. Strange finished, holding up a hand with four fingers up before pointing to himself. "Four, got it." Settling into his seat as if he hadn't just likely made himself a target for his teacher, Kei leaned over and whispered to his almost undoubtedly embarrassed cousin, "Alright so when we get home, we've gotta talk about y'know, going to class together from now on."

[MFT]
[OOC: Name change hasn't gone through yet but Kei's family name is Mugen, not Muu. Also sorry for dropping by unannounced, meant to sign up and it skipped my mind. This should be interesting ; ) ]

 

[Tsurara Moriko]

Two more. Two she could work with.

All right, so the first one was a friendly sort clearly, but he didn't sit too near her nor impose his presence on her too much, so Moriko felt all right relaxing just a touch. The teacher only watched her until the next student came in and she wasn't entirely sure why but again: as long as they were competent, it didn't really matter.

He went to sit at the front row. Acceptably far. Either he was anxious, hard of hearing, or a goody two-shoes. Possibly some combination. Hopefully the teacher wouldn't try and pair them up for any exercises.

Actually, that went in general.

The other one was definitely shy and seemed to be trying to hide himself as he shuffled in. Moriko inspected him just as critically as the other. If they did have to pair up at all, he'd likely be easier to push around. And despite sitting at the back, he definitely seemed like the goody two-shoes type. Or possibly just forgetful and not stupid enough to lack a means of compensating? Hm.

The bell rung and she twisted her head to glance at the noise reflexively, meaning she caught a full view of their teacher's rather violent objection to the object. She smothered a smile. Competent, check. Clearly unaccustomed to teaching, or else the Academy would go through bells very quickly.

The silence could possibly have been construed as 'eerie,' but to someone who spent most of her nights going to bed alone in a home where her mother wouldn't be back for hours yet, it didn't even break 'unnerving.' Nor did it when the teacher suddenly spoke, labelling them by number in the order they'd entered.

Well, as long as their grades were recorded correctly. She was the only girl in the class, so it wouldn't really be possible to mistake her name for someone else's. The other two were boys and if they were going to have issues in that vein, they could object to it. She'd take it to not have to remember names and therefore become sociable with people who had yet to do anything interesting.

(Plus, she was 'one.' That was fine.)

Presumably 'from now on' meant 'for the rest of the class.' Sure. Not sure how much he'd get out of it with three--

Four.

Hm.

Late, unkempt, rushed, barging in and dropping down next to the sociable one in the front as if he wasn't late. Or as if it didn't matter, as if the rest of their time was worth less than his. Ugh.

Oh well. She was here for what the teacher said and did, and very little of what her classmates said and did unless it was suddenly interesting. As long as no one touched her, she could just stay away from them.

"Understood, doctor," she said crisply and clearly, tones as flat and neutral as ever. No point in injecting emotion. Not about to object, and it seemed he might prefer that address? He was speaking of experiments and research, so...

And again, if any of the boys wanted to object because they weren't sure they were going to get their marks down right or for whatever other silly reasons they had? Their lookout.

 

[Ringo]

"Ach-!" the boy stifled a sneeze and shook his head. As he sniffled to recover his senses, he suddenly felt as if he was forgetting something. Was it important? I mean, he arrived to class on time... nah. He must have been overthinking it.

A minute before class was set to begin, a third kid quietly walked into the classroom. His body language hinted that he was the nervous or shy type. Ringo instinctively grinned at his peer as to send him a friendly, non-verbal greeting like he did his other classmate, but he wasn't sure if he noticed. The other boy averted his gaze away from the others and slinked to the back of the room. "Hm, I should talk to him later," he noted to himself. He was naturally drawn to meek-looking children his age as he found comfort in the non-confrontational energy they exuded. It was always a nice contrast to his overly-aggressive shinobi brother; maybe, like Ringo, this kid also wasn't drawn to the life of a ninja. To be fair, the young student couldn't fathom why anyone would. "But I have to become one... for mom and dad."

The loud ringing of the Academy's bell interrupted his trail of thought, but his instructor was quick to violently silence it. This almost startled Ringo to jump up, but he managed to hold his composure. "Yikes," he mused with concern, "it must be the post-traumatic stress." The life of a shinobi was tough; the boy's mom used to lament about it all the time. Hopefully, this wasn't a foreshadowing of what lied ahead for him.

Ringo's instructor manifested a type of chakra to close the door shut. Soon after, he greeted himself as Dr. Saito and referred to his cohort as 'subjects'. It was an interesting choice of words, but he didn't find his teacher's label too alarming considering his metallic appearance and his apparent dislike for ringing objects. The brown-haired student was pretty flexible, so he was more-than-willing to go along with it. As he numbered each student, Ringo was cut off from responding back to his instructor by a sudden new arrival. A familiar flash of red hurried besides him... woops.

That's what Ringo was forgetting or, rather, who.

The boy was so focused on preparing for today's course that he forgot that Kei, his cousin from the boonies, was supposed to accompany him. It wasn't necessarily his job to keep tabs on his relative, but he also knew how much becoming a shinobi meant to the older boy. Ringo made mental note to make it up to him later. "Sup, Four," he whispered playfully as his expression lit up. It was obvious by his body language alone that he felt comfortable in the familiarity of his cousin's presence. To Kei's comment, Ringo simply nodded in acknowledgement while shifting his attention back to his teacher. The girl a row behind them coolly responded to the robot man's question; Ringo immediately followed suit.

"I'm Two, got it, Sir!" he confirmed confidently. Ringo was ready to abide by whichever instructions were thrown at him and ace this class. He did wonder about what their instructor had in store for them, but he also figured there was no point in trying to guess. How could anyone in this world of super-powered ninja?

 

[Jintou]

Each pupil complied awkwardly, similarly at the mercy of Doctor Kurohane’s perfunctory, even robotic methods. Something about the doctor’s aura made Jintou uncomfortable, though most of the boy’s instinctual gnawing was a product of his hidden visage. The eyes are the window to the soul, or so it goes. The doctor’s presumed visor and LED strip made for about as pointless of a window view as one facing a brick wall. As Jintou wrote his scribbling he quickly realized that there was one redeeming factor about the callous demeanor of that metal-husked Kurohane: he was about as far from the ninja cliche as a budding academy student could hope to find. This hardly provided Jintou a sense of comfort though— it was more like confusion, as nothing represented being stuffed back into the mold like being given a number.

“Three—” chirped Jintou in an uneasy tone. Of course, he wanted to say his name then, even shout it so he would be certain that Jintou of House Oba existed. In that unending quest for a base level of acceptance, he wanted the name of his kin to be burned into their frontal lobes; to matter, to be counted. This led Jintou to wonder about his fellow numbers in their little troupe, and what formal introductions they all but skipped. Suddenly, with fleeting curiosity rising, Jintou regretted sitting in the back and focused on his peers with the wish to have a better look at them.

One was a frail-looking creature. She had a particular aesthetic that called for Jintou’s attention like a glass fracture shining when it’s about to shatter. One, who Jintou would likely soon discover to be Moriko, heir to the Tsurara Clan, was like a pair of designer denim that was perfectly stitched but came with deliberate rips. She had a self-aware, even confident demeanor; the kind that was akin to a sharp weapon against timid kids like Jintou.

Then there was Two, who had the audacity to take a seat in the front row. It took a kind of forward courage against a domineering figure like Doctor Kurohane. Two had a warm voice that cut through the metallic vibrato that came from the instructor’s helm. He had the presence of a friend despite Jintou having never seen him before. At a mere glance, Jintou recognized that fate would deem him to be friends with Ringo. He had a trustworthy smile; the archetypal kind that could melt a villain’s resolve. Jintou’s attention went drifting back to One, after all, he found One most curious to observe, but then the doors swung open and Kurohane’s orderly domain collapsed.

In sped Kei, currently known only as Four— hurrying down the decline to the first row. Jintou’s mouth went agape in joy at the spectacle of Four’s entrance; half because of just how cool it was, but also because of how it might disturb their instructor. Four was surrounded with energy that followed him into the room; he was like lightning in a human-shaped bottle. Jintou was smiling, curious, and anticipating what might happen next. There would be antics indeed, as much seemed promised as Two and Four revealed their familial bond.

The brief commotion would have been enough for Jintou, who was overcoming that onset fright enough to pursue curiosity instead and make his first move. True to form as a ninja, that moment’s distraction led him to hurriedly relocate down from the third row to the second, and he slid his narrow form into the seat adjacent to One. A nervous bead of cold sweat creased his temple as he turned to engage Moriko with an awkward grin.

“Hi, I’m Three” he whispered with an anxious stutter. “Just wanted to get closer to the Doctor... you know.” As he issued his lie his hands were fast at work, folding up the note he had been writing a moment ago. “It’s hard to hear him through that mask, right? “Anyways? 'You mind if I sit here? Next to you?” Unbeknownst to Jintou, he was stage whispering, hardly fifteen decibels lower than average. He was also squirming and struggling with eye contact, first getting lost in her eyes before becoming aware and focusing on the standard-issue bread on her desk, then back to her face. “Psst—” he hissed at her as if it precluded a secret but, “Hey One, you want that bread?” I forgot to mention it, but his bread was long gone already, and so was the second one on his new desk.

 

[Mikaboshi]

Welcome Kei, no big deal. I am going to cap things here though so that the class can progress without future surprises. I will hopefully be doing more of these in the future so if anyone missed out on this one, there will be another chance down the road.

For a matter of record-- I have a tendency to RP extreme situations with NPCs. If at any time you are uncomfortable with a situation that I have placed your character in or you simply feel as though the plot is progressing a direction which does not equate to an experience which is fun for you to engage with please let me know privately so we can adjust and work together to have fun.

Doctor Kurohane Saito

Before any of his new test subjects had a chance to respond, the door to the classroom came flying open and a whirlwind of unkempt energy came barreling through it to take a place at one of the desk areas with clear intent to join the class. With how unexpectedly violent Doctor Saito had been with the interruption caused by the bell, it might have been expected for him to have reacted with an equal amount of sudden and intense violence towards the arrival of Kei but instead the odd instructor watched wordlessly as Kei took his seat before returning his visored gaze back to the door that the young man had so carelessly left open. He listened to each of the students rattle off their understanding of the terms that he had given them but offered them not even a sliver of his attention as he silently moved to the door and slowly shut it.

Reaching up with a deliberate slowness to his movements, Saito then began to fiddle with the lock on the door. He closed the door, then locked it. Then unlocked it and opened the door. Then closed the door. Then opened it again. Then turned the lock while the door was open. Then undid the lock and closed the door once more. Then opened the door. Then closed it. Then engaged the lock once more. He had been certain that he'd locked it the first time he'd closed it. Now there could be no doubt.

The door was locked. For certain, this time. Perhaps he might explore the mystery of how the door became unlocked the first time at a later date but for now there were more important things to look forward to.

Turning from the door, Saito stalked back into the classroom and towards where Kei was sitting. Where the group of students were whispering as though their instructor could not hear them. He hovered closely to the front edge of the desk, the large black form of his body looming over where Kei was sitting like some kind of coat-clad metal gargoyle and brought his right hand up to point at Kei with his index finger and his thumb extended.

"Number Four. Indeed. What an intoxicatingly eager attitude."

If the instructor felt any emotion to accompany his words it was not apparent in anything he said. His tone remained the same metallic rasp that it had been since he'd introduced himself with the same even level of volume and tone that he had possessed right from the beginning. Then with speed that only came with years of shinobi training and perhaps a great deal of prosthetic enhancement, Doctor Saito rotated his right hand that had been pointing at Kei and jerked his wrist causing a jet of air and pink powder to come rushing out of a tiny tube at the base of his wrist which was nearly impossible to spot among the dark colors and the length of his coat sleeve.

"Thank you for volunteering for today's exercise, Subject Four."

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Spoiler: For Kei

The moment that Doctor Saito's wrist turns over, a jet of uncomfortably warm air combined with a blinding pink powder erupts into your face. At first, there is nothing but the sensation that someone has blown what felt like a can of compressed air in your face but after a moment it becomes apparent that the pink powder has affixed itself to the skin of your face. Like glue-soaked glitter, it clings to your skin and refuses to wipe away and after a moment it starts to itch.

Then the itching becomes a tingling sensation.

And then comes the pain.

Your eyes, your nose, your mouth all erupt in a numbing, stinging pain like having pressed your face into a vat of juice and seeds of an extremely spicy pepper but worse than that it won't come off no matter how much you rub or scrape at it. Slowly even the agonizing pain of the experience gives way to an even more startling realization as it very gradually becomes harder to breathe. Each breath you take feels like it grants a little less precious oxygen than the last and even after a few seconds pass it feels as though someone has placed a heavy stone upon your chest making it difficult to pull in even shallow breaths. Even for a student who is new to the world of shinobi it is clear what has happened.

Your instructor has just poisoned you.

 

[Mugen Kei]

While Ringo and the student known to him as One confirmed their understanding with the doctor, Kei made a modest attempt to retain some sense of classroom professionalism by retrieving a notebook from his bag, only to set it down and realize the good doctor had provided paper and pen for them. Probably for the best, the juvenile thought as he slipped his own doodle-filled pad back where it came from. His attention was now kept by the curious assortment of items at his seat, leaving him completely oblivious to the befuddled tinkering of his professor. He couldn't have known the seemingly impossible feat he had accomplished by just opening the door, as it had given him no trouble or resistance. Whether an act of fate, the gods, or something with a more natural explanation, Kei was here now and honestly intrigued by what they could possibly be learning about that involved sponge cake.

Wait, this wasn't a cooking class… was it?!

His momentary panic at the consideration of the challenges of domestic duties was alleviated by the sound of whispers behind him, the repeated clicking of the lock and creaking of door hinges doing little to drown out Two's shuffling and inquiring. Throwing a glance and a smirk over his shoulder, Kei joined the hushed conversation, "There's like a ton of extras, think robo-prof scared off the rest of the class…"

"Number Four. Indeed. What an intoxicatingly eager attitude."

Stomach sinking and heartrate increasing, his voice dropped off instantly as he turned back to face their instructor. Kei had gone through his share of academy teachers and there had been some tough cookies for sure, but the sudden looming presence mere inches from where the redhead sat brought with it an aura unlike any he'd experienced in a classroom before. A bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck as one emotion filled his gut: Regret. Didn't matter that he hadn't started instruction yet, stupid. He shouldn't have kept talking. He knew better. He just couldn't seem to help himself.

"I'm sorry, Doct--"

Whoosh. Kei blinked violently as the rush of air filled every orifice on his face, his eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. Without moving his body for fear of further strange disciplines, he shifted his eyes to meet Ringo's with a look of, "What on earth was that about?", just before the answer began to present itself. His peripheral vision was clouded with a pink hue, and looking down he could see pink powder splattered about the collar of his hoodie. Well, he had needed to wash it anyway.

Realization began to compound as the stickiness gave way to itching, and that to tingling. Kei was an idiot, sure, but he wasn't dumb. Two years in the academy had left him with at least basic knowledge of poisons, though usually in passing via textbooks and never so up close and personal, meaning his interest in the subject had been exactly zero. The teen began wracking his still-developing brain to remember what he'd learned, desperately combating the panic that mounted in his chest, knowing that would only make things worse and make him look super uncool. Tongue going numb, he reached for the water in front of him and took a swig, swishing it about in his mouth before spitting it back into the cup in an effort to remove some of the substance - to no avail. Nose sniffling and eyes watering from the reaction, the boy soon lost his ability to tell how pathetic he must look as all his senses melted into pain.

Looking up at the doctor with an indignant refusal to fall apart as his face turned as red as his hair beneath the pink mask, Kei now called upon his sporting experience that taught him how to open his airways. Lifting his arms and grabbing his hands behind his head, Kei focused on regulating his breathing and his panic. 'This isn't Kumo,' he thought. 'We have a way better than one-percent academy survival rate.' Looking to Ringo he attempted a reassuring nod, as if his younger cousin was the one who needed consoling in this situation.

Finally, the toxin proved too much, crumpling the boy as if he'd taken a hit to the gut by a schoolyard bully. He was pretty familiar with those; again, this wasn't his first rodeo. First poisoning though, for sure. As Kei writhed in his seat, thinking that he needed to lay flat on his back on the ground but without a clear enough mind or responsive enough body to do so, he decided if he lived that he probably would not ever volunteer for anything again. The humiliated test subject for his classmates to learn how to combat the affects of poison - 'How lame,' he internally lamented.

Wait, this was an antidote class… wasn't it?!

 

[Tsurara Moriko]

Moriko continued letting her gaze slide to the objects on the desk in front of her, wondering what they were for. Water and sponge bread? They seemed unlikely to be refreshments. She couldn't think exactly what they were for--the first class Tsukiya had described having involved using paper to determine your primary base element, not anything like this--but could wait on that.

Those two at the front were probably related or at least familiar, further meaning she was unlikely to have to partner with someone who'd get in her personal space, if it transpired at all.

At least they weren't being overly disruptive. Then again, if they were, she'd get to see what the teacher would to do to overly disruptive people...if he'd break a bell just for ringing at the predictable time, then what would he do to a person who was randomly loud and obnoxious?

But no, no one here was on quite that level apparently. Which was good for other reasons; these were potentially people she'd end up working with on field team missions, and it was good if they could avoid stepping on her toes.

Speaking of stepping on toes...

She had leaned unconsciously away from Jintou, another person too close.

"Perhaps you should take a hearing test," she said just as evenly as ever, taking the words at entirely face value, any subtle cues Jintou might have been making (consciously or otherwise) flying right over her head. Her gaze only flickered to him briefly before going back to the front, and she spoke very quietly to avoid attracting attention. "I don't personally object, but I'm not certain moving seats after the fact is a good idea." A shrug as if to say, 'your funeral, possibly.' "Likewise, I'm fairly sure those aren't there just as snacks. You might have problems with the lesson."

Who knew? It was true it could be a psychological test, to see whether they'd take initiative, but she was fairly sure initiative was for Jounin, not students. Or any of the lower ranks.

It became especially apparent that the 'experiment' was for something else when 'Four' was sprayed with some type of poison. Moriko leaned forward curiously, mentally cataloguing the visible effects. She hadn't much experience at all with poisons, as most of her family who were ninja tended to focus on straightforward ninjutsu. She did have a small pouch of one kind that she thought might be useful, but this didn't look like Make-Believe at all. The pouch she had was a sort of iridescent beige powder that looked almost like sand, while that was definitely pink.

But it was an inhaled poison, and she did have a good eye for range, so if it was effective then she might want to look into it...

Moriko thought that if it wasvery useful, she mightn't have even minded being the one dosed, but as she hadn't been late and barged in, that didn't appear to be in the cards.

Her left hand reached unconsciously for the pencil and she started scribbling down observations.

Inhaled Poison - unknown

-Pink in colour; dispersed via air pressure (ranged?)

-Subject appears to have gained no relief from symptoms via ingesting water

-Symptoms include: eyes watering, nose running, increased blood flow to face causing reddening, difficulty breathing (albeit subject seems to possess small measure of control to minorly mitigate this).

-Approximately ten seconds after poison took effect, subject collapsed onto the ground; breathing still laboured but functional.

-Context clues (we are in a classroom) indicate poison is unlikely at best to be fatal, but may be severely debilitating depending on constitution and training.

-Are we here to observe, to learn how to combat it, or to treat it? Or some other purpose?
--Possibly not really about the poison? Lesson on teamwork? (Or self-sufficiency?) Seems unlikely... Speculation in this vein unhelpful.

Moriko paused and tapped her pencil's eraser lightly on the desk a few times, peering over to study the unfortunate Kei again.

It seemed to her he had used the water wrong; if he wanted to mitigate the effects, then rationally he should wash his eyes out to help with that part of it--especially since eyes absorbed things like poisons better than skin. She wasn't entirely sure what the sponge bread was for, mind. Probably not to ingest? Trying to eat something while you were having difficulty breathing sounded like a great way to choke yourself.

It might be more of a texture thing, as use to ground you while you rode the effects out. She added a section marked 'Treatments with available materials' and then 'wash eyes out wish water?' 'grasp bread to ground self with familiar texture (stave off panic attack)?'

Only then did she pause in her notes, and it still wasn't out of any particular concern. In Moriko's mind, she'd already worked out he wouldn't die, so there was no point fussing about it, the concept of 'empathy' missing her entirely and completely.

"Doctor," she said, voice raised a little louder and still crisp and even, "do you wish us to record, or are we meant to be attempting to diagnose and treat Four?"

If he was precise as he was then, in her mind, he ought to also be clear. Right?

 

[Ringo]

As the rest of his classmates chattered in the background, the typically social Ringo had his attention locked onto his robo-instructor. As much as he wanted to chime in, especially as the student in the back revealed himself as more outgoing than he initially thought, his instincts told him to keep a firm eye out on what the man before him was doing. This was Sunagakure’s ninja academy class, after all. From his experience, the teachers here expected their pupils to keep their wits about them. Ringo wasn't a genius by any means, but he was intentional in his attempts to adapt.

“Heh...”

The boy scratched his chin as he witnessed Doctor Saito repeatedly lock and unlock the door almost obsessively. Was this purposeful? Was this part of the class? Perhaps Ringo was thinking too hard about it; for a second, he attempted to discern if there was a pattern in it that he had to memorize. He quickly checked himself. “Or maybe he’s just annoyed at the door’s lock.” This was the most rational reason, he concluded. His suspecting gaze remained on his peculiar teacher, especially as he approached and pointed at his cousin besides him. His teacher then remarked on Kei’s upbeat attitude, which Ringo wasn’t sure was intended as a compliment due to the man’s lifeless tone. What soon occurred next was executed so fast that he nearly missed it by merely blinking. His professor twisted his arm and shot out pink, powdery substance at the Kei.

“Uhh...”

He nervously gritted his teeth. What was that about? Doctor Saito then expressed his gratitude to the red-headed student for being today’s ‘subject’. Thinking back, Ringo was certain that Kei never gave consent to be anyone’s experiment. The young Mugen was confused – what was supposed to happen now? Finally breaking his attention away from his instructor, he shifted his focus toward his cousin. It felt like seconds that Kei began to exhibit symptoms of discomfort and pain. His kin’s face reddened as beads of sweat down poured from his brow. He appeared like he also had trouble breathing.

“Is he having an allergic reaction?” This was Ringo’s first thought as he gave his instructor the benefit of the doubt. He wouldn’t intentionally harm any of them, right? As Kei expressed to him a reassuring nod, he instantly recalled that his cousin possessed no allergies of any sorts. If anything, his family from the outskirts of Sand were perceivably sturdier than their village counterparts. This had to be the work of a substance far more purposeful and nefarious.

Ringo, in that moment, experienced a flurry of emotions at once as he speculated about what had just occurred and all the possible outcomes. He was upset... should he lash out at the robo lizard dude for hurting his cousin? If this was a time sensitive issue, then he didn’t really have the luxury for that. What could he do to help? He knew nothing about poisonous substances, and he didn’t have an antidote handy on him. Doing his best to wipe panic away from his facial and bodily expressions, he attempted to console Kei with an assuring tone.

“It’s going to be okay, Kei. This is nothing compared to that one time when Mu accidentally impaled your shoulder with a kunai a few years ago, remember?” Ringo smiled cheerfully, but he sure was freaking out on the inside. The girl behind him then questioned the teacher callously. What the- was she serious?! Ringo twitched and was tempted to snap at her cold comment, but he composed himself. Maybe she didn’t mean it... it was possible that she was brainwashed to not feel empathy? They were child soldiers that were encouraged to one day kill if need be. His frustration toward her transformed into a sliver of sympathy, but he didn’t have the time to dwell on it much. Turning toward the other boy, he pleaded for his assistance.

“Three, will you help out Four? I’m pretty sure Sir poisoned him with some pink powder.” Asking his peers for help was the best idea he had. He didn’t bother asking the girl nor his superior for aid; after all, they seemed rather comfortable with Kei’s suffering. Perhaps the other boy in class would be different? Instinctively, Ringo felt like he might. I mean, he had to, right? Poor Kei.

Meanwhile, Ringo warily kept a partial visual on his metallic instructor while tending to his cousin. He didn't want his classmates or himself to become the next victims of his pink smoke assault.

 

[Jintou]

In that instance, Doctor Kurohane could have unleashed his toxic vapor in Jintou’s face and he probably wouldn’t have noticed. He would have elicited a few extra blinks like wipers clearing a car’s windshield, and a throat-clearing sneeze to purge the tickling. Aloofness would have been in order until the symptoms kicked in. No, Jintou was too busy chipping at the icy shoulder of Moriko to notice the death cloud rendered to Kei.

As one of six children in his tribe, Jintou was in fact a social child. However, this classroom setting brought with it jarring surrealism that sharply contrasted the comfort he was used to when carousing with his siblings. The teaching methods of Doctor Kurohane were painfully different from the lessons provided by his Grand Elder Ko’ona. The Grand Elder, which is a title you might compare to Grandmother when referring to Ko’ona, was a woman whose wisdom was only exceeded by her kindness. On the days when their pathfinders were off surveying the region, Ko’ona would take the children of House Oba under her wing for lessons. She taught them how to find peace when wandering in the wild through patience and understanding. Dangerous poisons and venoms sometimes had antidotes, or more aptly, had symptoms that were treatable. If Ko’ona elected to teach the children about a venomous snake, she would capture one and present it cautiously... She wouldn’t let it bite the children and let them sort it out themselves!

I don’t remember seeing this in the syllabus for this class.

“Eh?” Jintou’s nose scrunched as Moriko denounced eating the cakes. He paused long enough for a non-existent hourglass to spin a few times over his head and answered, “Right, right. "Maybe it’s one of those riddling-treats with a note inside and we all have different clues.” He snatched the bread off of Moriko’s desk anyway since technically she never said no, and broke it in half. Crumbs scattered; and more fell as he dug fingers through half of it and returned the smaller remaining portion back to its owner. “Clever doctor” he whispered, knowing the answer was eluding him.

By then, Kei’s symptom’s had increased enough that Jintou caught wind of his gagging and instantly recognized it for airway obstruction. His attention instinctively turned to the Doctor, who seemed unfazed; he was just standing there, observing. Moriko was also observing, seemingly unbothered, taking notes like the studious observer they were. A call for help from Ringo was like a beacon for Jintou and snapped him out of the confusion— yes, Kei was actually choking. It was like an involuntary reaction for Jintou to rise from his seat, and entirely instinctual for him to climb down over the first row in the most direct passage to Kei. “Hey Four… Four?”
At first, he noticed traces of the pink spray; the hue suggested that it might have been derived from a toxic plant and he began to think of possible sources.

The sinister nature of the moment truly hit Jintou when Ringo revealed that it was in fact Doctor Kurohane who delivered the poison. The look on his face was less shock and more disappointment, though even he was surprised that it wasn’t feeling a sense of dread. Instead, Jintou was surprisingly well prepared for the situation and carried a pouch full of components for dealing with symptoms like those plaguing Kei.

“Do I have your permission to help you?” Jintou dared to ask Kei, and then deferred to Ringo because even if Kei were still conscious, Jintou wouldn’t be able to understand him clearly. Expecting a yes, Jintou revealed a small pebble of charcoal and handed it to Ringo. “Two, can you help me crumble this into a powder? Be careful not to lose any.” There was no time to complain, only to make the big rock into little ones. The miniature medic turned back to Kei and revealed a strange blue flower and grasped his patient gently by the chin with his free hand. “Now chew on this, slowly…” he shoved the whole flower into Kei’s mouth and began working his jaw, forcing him to milk the oils from the bud, to absorb their needed quality: a chemical called atropine.

 

[Mikaboshi]

Doctor Kurohane Saito

As soon as the powder erupted from the hose attached to his wrist, the long metal appendage that had continued to wave ominously behind Saito sprang to life and curled over his shoulder before the tip split three times and spread open like a metallic flower to reveal a flawless glass lens beneath the steel point of the "tail" which glowed with a similar baleful purple-pink light that the rest of his armor and helmet pulsed with. The students equally reacted in their own ways to the doctor's sudden aggression but Saito was most concerned with Kei's reaction to the event. As confusion gave way to understanding and the symptoms began, the doctor flicked his left wrist and a small cylinder appeared in his hand which he raised to his helmet.

"Symptoms delayed. No immediate discomfort. Have to cut down on turn around from time of infection to onset of symptoms."

He was speaking audibly but not to any of the students. It sounded more like he was speaking to himself -- or rather, to the small cylinder in his hand. Seemingly expecting a more exuberant reaction, the strange doctor's head tilted slightly to the right as he waited and was finally rewarded as realization washed across Kei's face signaling the on-set of the poison's symptoms. Kei reached for his water and swished a large gulp of the water contained within his cup for a moment before spitting it back in the cup and Saito's interest seemed to grow with each little movement of the boy's body.

"Compound remains resistant to water. Speculation: Explore possible relation to delayed symptoms."

Finally Kei broke his defiant stare and rolled up upon the desk in respiratory distress as Ringo attended to him and Moriko verbally called out with a question to their instructor on his intention for their conduct. Looking up from his experiment subject as though perhaps he had just remembered that there were students in the classroom at all, Saito straightened up from where he loomed over Kei's gasping form and directed the pinkish-purple light array that substituted for his face towards the only female student in the class.

"How long do you think Subject Four will survive with the compound I administered to him in his system? The fastest expiration that I have encountered so far is twelve minutes and twenty-six seconds. That was two iterations ago."

The doctor's response to Moriko's question was morbid to say the least. He hadn't really answered her question and instead had implied that Kei was going to die from the compound that he'd been given by the fact that he did left no room for recovery in his commentary.

"Encouraging results so far. Symptoms delayed but aggressive in development. Could be related to Subject Four's age. Too early to speculate but certainly worth further investigation."

Returning his attention back to the scene in front of him, Saito watched as Jintou retrieved a number of items from his person and administered them to the suffering Kei that lay on the desk between them. Oddly enough, Doctor Saito made no attempt to stop Jintou or halt his decision to try and aid his ailing classmate. He only watched with the special brand of eerie stillness that came from having one's face hidden behind a featureless mask as the class each considered their options for how best to approach the situation.

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Spoiler: For Kei

In the moments following the poisoning, you reach for the water at your desk and swirl it around in your mouth before spitting it back out but find no relief in that. The effect seems undeterred by the presence of water but mercifully isn't worsened for it. As you roll up on to the desk to lay on your back, the effects seem to hit something of a plateau but any solace or comfort that could be taken in that is easily eclipsed by the extremity of the pain and the battle that it is to continue breathing. It isn't getting worse but it also isn't getting any better and the longer it goes on the harder it becomes to keep up the strength to pull in another breath.

Help isn't far away however as two of your three classmates spring into action to support you. Emotional support pours in from Ringo to help focus your conviction to resist the poison that is pulsing through your body and then in the form of Jintou who attempts to administer an antidote in teh form of atropine, typically used in situations to treat chemical overdoses which cause respiratory distress and complications. As Jintou works your jaw for you, you feel the bitter oil of the flower hit your taste buds and fill your mouth even among the wracking pain of the poison and the invisible weight that you feel upon your chest.

Similarly to the poison it seems as though nothing is happening for more than a few tense seconds pass and the feeling of being unable to breathe slowly begins to subside though it is not gone entirely and the searing pain in your nerves is still very much present. Still... any improvement is progress, right?

 

[Mugen Kei]

Of all the terrible ways that mankind has come up with to kill one another, one of the most infamous remains crucifixion. Within an empire that fed people to lions for entertainment you might think that the better known executions would be something more heinous or interesting than tying or nailing someone to a post and then leaving them there for days; but that was exactly what made it so terrifying. The cause of death most typically in a crucifixion was not heart failure, infection or animal predation as was originally believed - it was asphyxiation. Hours or even days of struggling in their contorted position to pull oneself up for another breath, finally leading to such great pain and exhaustion to make doing so impossible. Unlike a beheading or being thrown from a bridge or building, this method was slower and more agonizing the longer the victim fought to stay alive. It was as much an act of mental and emotional torture as it was physical.

Now Kei was nothing if not stubborn. Even in this pathetic state, wheezing and sprawled on his back, something that seemed like a laugh escaped the choking when Ringo mentioned the kunai incident. How could he forget? He proudly had the scar to prove it, his first "battle" marks that most village children had by the time they were four and learning to spin a kunai or chuck a ninja star. Of course, this sharp exhale would prove not only painful but also detrimental to the work he had done to regulate his breathing as best he could. A brief moment of panic set in at the same time that the pain reached its crescendo, resulting in shorter and more shallow gasps - for just a moment, before Ringo's smile and continued support and call for help filled him with hope and determination.

Focus.

Breathe.

Inhale…

Exhale…

Inhale…

Exhale…

This intense concentration may well have saved his life, for if he had been attentive enough to hear the doctor's deliberations with Moriko on his anticipated survival time, he may well have taken on a very different demeanor. When Three, or Bread Kid as Kei thought of him for now, arrived, relief filled the redhead for a moment. Unable and unwilling to speak, Kei attempted to nod 'yes' at Jintou's request for permission, though it was likely hard to perceive through all his squirming. It was an odd concept to Kei, asking for someone's permission to help them when they clearly needed it. Odder still was Jintou suddenly stuffing his mouth with an unfamiliar blue flower, giving Kei some pause in his reception of aide. The last brightly colored substance that went in his mouth hadn't ended well for him, and the strength of the bitterness of its milk bursting throw even the numbness and pain in his mouth didn’t seem like a good start. On a dime, Kei could now understand why he'd asked for permission. 'Oh I am for sure gonna die,' he thought as his druid of a classmate worked his jaw like he was an infant or hospice patient.

By grace, it seemed that might be the lowest Kei would sink today. After a few moments of staring up at Bread Boy's tattoos and thinking about how rad they looked to keep his mind off the situation at hand, Kei realized that breathing was beginning to become less laborious. He continued to wheeze and his airways felt tight, but the fear that lurked just beneath the surface began to subside as he could more consistently draw deep breaths. This had been Kei's greater concern over the pain; debilitating though it could be, he'd learned that you'd never learn to ollie or do a kickflip if you didn't get back on your board every time you fell off. That mentality had carried over into his academy training - not necessarily taking into account that skating on a sprained ankle would do it more harm than good. Maybe he'd figure that out one day. Maybe today; who's to say.

Slowly, Kei pulled himself back into his seat, perhaps with the aide of Ringo or Jintou. Though he flashed a smile, the shaking in his hands and asthmatic rhythm to his breathing indicated his condition; even taking their hand to pull himself up sent needles down his spine. If the charcoal was given he'd take it without question, given that the freaky flower had worked what seemed like magic. "Thanks, you guys. Three, that was dope man…" He wanted to ask the boy's name but that had already been too much speaking to attempt so soon, his now raspy voice trailing off with a crack. Clearing his throat, he eyed Ringo's water (given that his own was now backwash); he was desperately thirsty, but feared diluting the plant's medicinal properties. As his eyes lingered on the tray, a thought crossed his mind, causing his brows to furrow. Turning and finally looking to take in the sight of his teacher talking into a recorder with a camera in his face, the realization cemented.

An unfamiliar sense of anger began to well up inside him. It wasn't because this instructor had poisoned him; he'd heard that drastic teaching measures weren't all that uncommon despite never having seen them in person. "The water didn't work," Kei choked, "and the bread would have suffocated me." His amber eyes were bloodshot, their intensity reflecting back at him in the sheen of his "teacher's" helmet. "And you just, stood there." He wasn't exactly the image of toughness right now as he sat trembling from pain and practically whispering every word between pauses, but there was a sincerity in his voice that was so usually lacking that it gave some weight to the ire within it. "So what exactly are you teaching us today, Doctor?"

No, he wasn't angry because he'd been poisoned. He was angry because, despite appearances, Kei was here to learn - and far as he could tell right now, this figure hadn't intended to really teach them anything.

 

[Tsurara Moriko]

The rest of the class seemed to be actually acting to try and help, which in Moriko's mind was useless without the knowledge of what you should be doing. Likewise, unless you had an exceptional memory even in a crisis, you weren't going to remember the specifics of this in case it happened again.

The respiratory part was definitely the bit to keep an eye on and the most likely to turn fatal. Moriko pondered for a second before adding a quick note 'keep eye out for respiratory poisons' and 'research potential of Wind chakra for assistance breathing.' She had a touch of a gift with Wind thanks to her bloodline, so that ought to be achievable.

Despite his uselessness in actually doing anything, Two actually did know how to solicit aid--you had to single a person out, not appeal meaninglessly to a crowd. Put the responsibility on that person (or those people). She wasn't sure how she'd have reacted to being singled out in that way, mind, and added a note to that effect.

And, well, yes, ninja used poison? Why was anyone completely out of sorts from this?

Three, on the other hand, seemed to spring into action. At least, after he was done eating bread, which she tacitly ignored as basically irrelevant. He seemed to have at least some knowledge of poisons, too. Activated charcoal as an antidote? She scribbled that one down for later research, the idea of actually asking Jintou not occuring.

Future medic, possibly.

Resistant to water? Moriko ruminated on whether or not that impacted the possibility of flushing out the target's eyes as a potential treatment.

Expire?

Her pencil poised over her paper, she registered mild surprise that yes, Academy teachers might actually kill their students on occasion. That being said, she'd also concluded earlier he wasn't a regular teacher and possibly things like this were why.

She did only pause briefly, however, indecision not showing on her face, before answering almost automatically.

"I imagine it would have to do with factors such as body mass and poison resistance, Doctor?" she said. "If Four is a smaller subject than previously used, and the dose is similar, I expect it would be a lesser timeframe. On the other hand, undiagnosed medical conditions in either previous experiments or this one could skew things in either direction."

Such as breathing disorders. Albeit they seemed to have that part handled...?

"I was under the impression most poisons typically utilized by ninja were hindering rather than fatal, Doctor" she said after a pause, debating in her head whether or not she should be helping. With what, moral support? Unlikely. "Or is that due to chakra providing some measure of resistance? Or, is this one deliberately made to be more lethal?"

Four seemed if not totally mobile, then able to breathe more easily, so she couldn't explore the whole wind thing now (probably for the best, since she didn't have a lot to work with).

Well enough to be angry with their instructor, at any rate. Moriko smothered a sigh.

"The straightforward uses didn't and wouldn't work," she said crisply, abandoning neutrality to get up and stride down the classroom toward him, scooping up a cup of water from an unused desk along the way in her left hand. "Ingesting water to dispel poison seems unlikely to work. Likewise, of course you shouldn't eat the bread--but not only could it be a familiar texture for grounding while breathing, it's potential it could absorb some poison as long as it wasn't blocking your airway too much."

She was in a roundabout way attempting to help, but was somewhat unwilling to totally pitch in with them. No, Moriko just had an experiment of her own to run.

"The water, on the other hand, is likely better used to flush out your eyes."

Which she would then partially demonstrate by tossing the water, sans glass, across his face. Aiming for the eyes, naturally. Not the best method for flushing out eyes, but if it was going to do anything at all, then they could do it properly after.

...Actually, she hadn't considered whether the water and bread themselves were poisoned. Maybe it would have been better to use a water jutsu. Hm.

Well, she could do that if this went badly. Besides, she was just testing if flushing could help with poisons of this nature, so help wasn't the actual goal.

Though she was also curious what they were there to learn. How to treat poisons? It seemed if that was the case their teacher would have said something regarding the efforts of Two and Three. Right?

How they'd react in a crisis? And what sort of teamwork they'd display? That seemed...unlikely.

Moriko disliked feeling like she didn't know what was going on. One of her chief sources of frustration was rooted in that, and feeling like she had missed out on some context for what was going on. Kei's sharp question brought that to mind: what was she missing here that would explain the class, which was despite her note-taking seeming less like a class every second...? If there was just an applicable lesson in here, it would be fine with her regardless of any harm done to any of them, but so far one wasn't showing itself.

Well, she had notes on a few things. But was that actually it?

 

[Ringo]

One shot, one shot… of adrenaline.

Ringo’s heart pounded rapidly as his cousin struggled to breathe beside him. Growing up in a shinobi family, he was no stranger to the tales of life-threatening danger; however, he did not expect to experience this so soon and within a classroom setting. Was this just a foreshadowing of the trials that awaited him and his loved ones in this ninja life? In a way, he almost found relief in that. It was better than examining the current reality that his missing parents may still be facing that very peril.

Responding to his plea for aid, the boy known as Three appeared next to the Mugen duo and brought out various organic ingredients. Ringo grinned as his last bead of worry dripped from his brow; he was right in his judgment to ask for this guy’s help. Nodding his head, he followed the other student’s instructions and helped administer his natural remedy to Kei. Watching Three do his thing was like a work of magic, so much so that Ringo momentarily was lost in sparkling admiration for his peer. “He’s for sure going to be my friend,” he confirmed confidently to himself.

The other two robots chirped in the background, which was his instructor and the other student, but he paid them no real mind. His concern was only for his cousin and doing his best to assist Three in this, hopefully, healing process. Not before long, Kei’s breathing appeared calmer as his pained rasp faded. Whatever the other kid gave him, it was working! This was confirmed when the red-headed Mugen rose up and expressed his gratitude. “See, Kei, I knew this poison had nothing on you,” the boy then directed his cheery smile at today’s MVP. “Thanks again, Three. You rock!” While he felt significantly more at ease than seconds ago, part of the boy’s instincts kept him wary. While he was optimistic that Kei would be okay, he wasn’t sure about his teacher’s intentions or what he’d initiate next. This kept Ringo on his toes.

The blue-haired girl, dubbed as One, finally conveyed some helpful advice. Her presence and words remained laced in subtle coldness, but, despite that, Ringo took her approach as a good sign for her. “Maybe she is more human than not,” he mused. As she tossed some water at Kei to example her theory, the Ringo side-stepped to avoid some splash. As it was just water, he didn’t feel offended by her invasive gesture, especially in comparison to another individual here who intentionally inflicted poison on a pupil under his watch.

As Kei boldly and painfully voiced his observations, Ringo then shifted his full focus to his metallic, glowing teacher. Why did he poison Kei? What was the purpose of all this? The brown-haired youth did not want to jump to conclusions, but he assertively nodded as to reinforce his cousin’s fair question. They definitely deserved an answer.

 

[Jintou]

Nothing commands absolute attention like the moment someone’s life is in your hands. It presents pressure— like the pressure to perform, sure, but also a more literal kind. It’s how a vice-grip on your skull might feel; the tightness before it bursts like a rotten watermelon on the archery range. For Jintou, the pressure he felt as he gripped his soft hands around Kei’s jawline culminated in his heart. The blood was rushing from those tiny chambers in a staggering tempo and wracked his chest. It felt as if his heart was crawling its way upwards into his throat. It was actually the asphyxiation as he was forgetting to breathe.

With a great gasp for air, Jintou tore himself away, but there was a sudden prickling of energy as he went. It popped like static cling but sparked in a yellow glow that came and went in a blink of an eye. There was no reaction from Jintou, at least not to the voltage as his consciousness fell away in a sudden black-out.

On came an echoing sound of a skateboard careening down a residential path. The surroundings were a blur. Sunlight was beaming in excess. Jintou’s sight came in to focus on Kei who seemed oblivious to both his present predicament or his voyeur. The expression from his face to his form was one of excited courage as he swerved on his board towards a staircase. He crouched low in a wide stance to command a flex in the wood and bound upwards into a difficult aerial maneuver. Jintou was not present enough in this vision to react, though, if he was it would have been a cringe as Kei beefed it onto the pavement. There was an echo of laughter from the boy as the collision ejected Jintou back into the present. At that instant, he found himself gazing at Ringo and then Kei, who was thanking him for his intervention.

“Oh, I am just glad you’ll be okay, Four” Jintou answered in a sighing tone. “The milk of the mandrake ran its course, but the coal should mitigate anything lingering in your belly.” With all the mentioning of this three amidst the impressions he had set upon his new classmates, Jintou instinctually thought to introduce himself. “Oh, and by the way, my name is—” his eyes caught the image of Moriko accidentally, awkwardly, blunderous, and yet pleasantly… His mouth gaped as he remembered her and he said: “Bread.”

 

[Mikaboshi]

Doctor Kurohane Saito

Spoiler: For Jintou

Pulled out of the present moment and into a strange vision of the past, you observe Kei's history as he attempts a skateboard trick usually considered to be an beginner to intermediate level entry into a wider world of more radical tricks. The world is distorted and moves at an odd pace, or at least would for someone who isn't quite as used to having their consciousness flung into a shard of another's subjective timeline of events from time to time. The moment is brief and as the sound of raucous laughter catapults your mind out of the bizarre out-of-time scene, you have the most eerily profound feeling that you are not alone in this moment.

Though to the eyes of the other three students, it might have appeared as though Jintou spaced out for a moment it certainly did not escape the notice of their odd instructor. In a single simultaneous movement, Saito's masked head and the lens-tipped apparatus that craned over his shoulder both jerked suddenly in the direction of Jintou like the eyes of a great predatory bird that had just spotted a mouse moving through the grass beneath its perch. It was a "blink and you'd miss it" interaction as Jintou recovered in that single heartbeat but the attention from the instructor stayed focused on him until a demand was put upon it by Kei's impetuous question regarding their education.

"The lesson has already been administered."

If Doctor Saito noticed that Moriko had thrown water on the other boy at all, he did not show it as he slowly pulled his "gaze" away from Jintou and turned his head back down to match the steely-eyed glare being put upon him by Kei. It was a testament to either the greatest of bravery or the height of stupidity that Kei challenged Saito's authority so brazenly with the doctor still so close to him after the event that had just transpired. A man with pride that was more easily harmed might have taken it was an invitation to inflict further suffering upon the student but the doctor was not such a man. It wasn't to say that he was not prideful -- arrogance was the measure of a great scientist, after all -- but he simply did not see the value in continuing to torment a young teenager without a goal in mind.

"No matter your chosen vocation you will inevitably encounter a situation where things escalate outside of your control. Perhaps it will not even be your fault."

The doctor was speaking directly to Kei but the explanation was for the entire class. The apparatus over his shoulder slowly returned to the closed state that it had been in when he'd first begun the class, the three wedges of the split tip of the tail locking back into place over the lens and curling back in the other direction to return back to the glacially slow rhythmic swaying pattern it exhibited previously.

"It will be up to you in that moment to conquer the part of your brain which is dominated by instinct if you are to succeed at your task whether that task be to properly classify the results of an impromptu exposure to an experimental compound without instructions."

His masked face tilted up to look at Moriko as he spoke. It had not been apparent that he had noticed her taking notes on the nature of the injury that he'd inflicted upon Kei but there could be no doubt now that he had very clearly taken note of it. Next his head swiveled to look at both Ringo and Jintou in turn, the ominous pink-purple glow of his mask's lighting fixture lingering a but longer than was comfortable on Jintou.

"To save the life of an injured subject."

Finally his face turned back to look down at Kei.

"Or to simply survive exposure to a dangerous chemical compound."

Once more, the doctor's head turned quickly to the side with a unnatural jerking motion that was uncharacteristic of the up-to-that-point extremely deliberate Saito and in that moment Kei's form blurred in the sight of those observing him like a figure on a malfunctioning television being severely distorted by static. The effect lasts but the blink of an eye but no harm seems to come to Kei in the aftermath of it and in fact the keen eyed among the class might notice that every ounce of the pink poison compound that Kei had been sprayed with was now mysteriously gone as though he'd never been sprayed with it at all.

"The topic of today's lesson, Subject Four, is panic. It will be the most important thing you ever learn in this building."

Of course, Saito had also used the opportunity to gather interesting data on the compound that he was developing. Multi-tasking was a basic skill in the toolset of any notable scientist and it equally served both the purpose of an interesting experiment and an important teachable moment to use Kei as a test subject.

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Spoiler: For Kei

For the second time today, it seems as though you are the subject of the doctor's eccentric methods though this time it is considerably less obvious what he's done to you. One moment your body is still enflamed with the searing pain of the nerve agent that he'd sprayed you with earlier and then with a twitch of his head your vision goes blurry for a split second like you had just stood up too fast and given yourself a head rush. Then you're back in your seat... and the pain is gone. In fact, it's so gone you can barely even remember what it was like experiencing the pain. Taking unconscious stock of yourself, you realize that not only are you no longer in pain but you are no longer wet from the water that Moriko threw in your face and both your clothes and your face no longer sport a thin layer of impossible-to-remove pink poison glitter.