New Potential: Sparring Between Friends [Private, Cryptic]

'This is it. This is necessary. It has to be done.' The lone purple-haired girl made her way down Konoha's main street, one of her hands clasping hold of her other arm at the elbow while she walked. Her face was a mask of lacking emotion, but on the inside her feelings were raging. She felt nervous and scared, not feeling ready for this kind of training. But she also felt apprehensive, excited and fully prepared. Today was the day that she had agreed to have a friendly sparring match with Takeshi, a boy she had known and trusted from her childhood. Fighting and conflict, everything about the two, were things that Chikami had a borderline phobia of. She despised the idea of coming to blows with anyone, but of everybody she knew, she would rather go head to head with her childhood friend over anyone else. She trusted him, unbelievably so, and he was the reason why she was constantly trying to fight against her ingrained instincts to gain some of her own courage. Above anything, she wanted to protect him and any others that she grew close enough to so that she could call them 'friends'.

She hesitantly lowered her hand and patted around her utility belt, checking and making sure that everything she would require. She wasn't planning on using any of her ninja equipment, such as the kunai and shuriken she kept about her person, but she wasn't above using her puppet. He was a defensive model, after all, so she had little fears about using him against Takeshi. All he would be doing was defending her from up-frontal blows. She rested a hand on the pocket in which the small scroll was contained; it was the method of keeping him stored, due to his sheer bulking size. But with a lot of practice, she could wield and move him with impressive speed for her rank and skill level. It was obvious that her affinity lay with Puppetry. She enjoyed it, everything about it, and she was naturally skilled at everything in which puppetry was involved. Ninjutsu was another one of her skills, but she had not yet even found out what element was her affinity; so elemental Ninjutsu was currently not in her arsenal. She wished to find out rather soon, only hoping that it wasn't overly offensive and dangerous, like Katon or Raiton might be. Suiton, Doton or Fuuton would suit her just fine. Of course, she was aware of most things about the individual elements that characterised them and made them unique. Studying was one of her favourite past times, alongside reading for leisure and playing with her puppet (plus marionette).

Yes, studying. In a strange way, this spar was a little bit like studying if she thought about it in that way. Through this experience, she would hopefully get better at fighting and being able to land blows on an 'opponent' without too much hesitancy. She wasn't quite sure how the spar would go just yet, but she was hoping at least that it would be a fruitful experience for her in which she wasn't beaten too badly by her friend. She knew how he fought, having watched him on numerous occasions in the Academy, and later, seeing how he dealt with bullies in a recent mission of theirs. He was a physical fighter, mostly pushed by his own emotions that either made him stronger or weaker depending on how he felt. He was able to take a lot of hits before finally going down, which wasn't the best news for the little girl who was going to be facing off against him.

Lost in her own thoughts, she had not been aware of how fast she had started walking and how she had now ended up outside the Training Grounds of Konoha, where she had agreed to meet Takeshi for their spar. She stopped walking as she looked up and around the area's entrance, heaving a sigh and starting to walk further into the main training field. It was a good day for a spar; moderately temperate, with the sunshine hidden behind light clouds. Chikami had decided to wear her usual shinobi attire, wearing the brown dress with its strange materials tied to the straps, a pair of short spandex shorts underneath, knee-high socks and her usual dark blue ninja sandals. Underneath her dress, she also wore a long-sleeved netted shirt, light chakra armour as it was commonly known. She was unaware of its properties of protecting her should worst come to worst, and merely wore it as her own strange fashion statement. It was clear to see that he was no fashion icon, however, because of her strange rag-tag clothing. Her headband was tied securely around her forehead underneath her indigo bangs, with the metal plating bearing Konoha's insignia showing through the gaps. She glanced around the space surrounding her, and stood uneasily beside a small oak tree near the centre. Her weight was leant more on her right leg, her left leg lifted with the knee bent ever-so-slightly, and she resumed her earlier gesture of holding one of her arms with the other hand.

This wasn't her comfort zone, and it was clear just by looking at her uneasy expression and stance. Well, he would be here soon... so she would just have to swallow her fears and inhibitions, and just face the music.

Word Count: 906

4:52 PM. That was the time as indicated by the lone clock that hung on the southern most wall of Takeshi's one room apartment. Knowing that, it would probably have seemed rather strange to most that the young man was still in bed, his head cocked slightly to one side as he seemed to sleep soundly despite the sun's soft rays occasionally touching at his face in the brief moments that the clouds broke. Outside the village's lively sounds buzzed incessantly, and despite the occasional commotion outside the small apartment complex, served as nothing more than a soothing white noise from the thick-headed blonde. Shifting lightly in his sleep, the youth rolled toward his left, pulling the covers tight around his body as a low, incoherent mumble left his lips. Today was one of his few days off and it seemed that the boy was intent to spend it in bed, at least that had seemed to be the plan had it not been for the sudden sharp pain that burned at his right hand. Instantly the child sprung to life, his form bolting upright as the covers fell away from his shirtless form. A pained grimace would take hold of the boy's angular features as he glanced downward toward the bandaged hand that was stained red with his own blood. Though it was hard to discern, the youth had managed to gash himself quite deeply on some sort of blade. The cut had been clean but moderately deep. As such the youth had been forced to gauze and wrap his hand the night before.

Taking great care not to worsen his injury, the boy attempted to slowly curl his fingers into a loose fist. Predictably the pain was still there, though duller in nature than it had been the night before. Allowing a low sigh to leave his lips, his eyes slowly drifted toward the small scroll sitting at his bedside table. Though the object looked innocuous enough, what dwelled within was anything but. This day was the child's second day off since he had graduated the academy; his first had been the day before. On his first day of vacation Takeshi had found himself feeling both bored and restless. Chikami had been busy with her own affairs, most likely absorbed in some book or another. This had left Takeshi to fend for himself for the day. While the boy had tried to work up the motivation to get some training done, he had managed to talk himself into simply taking a long walk. It was during this walk that the boy had happened upon a rather strange peddler with a variety of goods from foreign lands. Never having set foot outside of the village, the young boy was all too easily intrigued by the wares and stories that went with them. Among the goods though was something of great interest, an oddly shaped sword that Takeshi couldn't help but be drawn too. While the man selling the blade had been incredibly vague about the weapon, he had ensured the boy that the blade was of the highest quality and carried within it a great power. Though the boy hadn't taken much stock in the merchant's words, he couldn't help but desire to have the blade as his own. After a bit of haggling the merchant managed to part with the weapon for a somewhat hefty some of near two-and-a-half thousand ryo. While the boy wasn't happy to hand over such a large amount of money, he couldn't help but feel that for a blade of such unique make, that the price was indeed a steal. And so it was that Takeshi came to own the sword named Nuibari.

Eager to try the blade out, Takeshi had ran to the training field after taking care to store the weapon within a small scroll that the merchant was all too happy to sell the boy for an exorbitant price of seventy-five ryo. Once at the field the boy had quickly realized that wielding such a blade was far beyond his current level of skill. Never having trained in the art of Kenjutsu or Bukijutsu, the boy could do nothing more than flail the blade around aimlessly. Sadly, it was during this wreckless session that the child's grip had slipped on the weapon and as a result his right hand had suffered a painful injury. While nothing permanent, the child had been forced to retreat home to treat the wound and seal his new weapon. Now that Takeshi had had a good night's sleep, he was eager to practice with the blade once more. I'll eat some lunch then head out to the training field and...

It was at that moment that the young shinobi's eyes suddenly widened as the memory of his plans with Chikami came racing back. SHIT! With a quick glance to the clock, the boy noted how the hour was nearing five in the evening. He was a whole hour late! Without another thought the child was up on his feet and racing toward his disorganized dresser in order to clothe himself in whatever he could grab. Not taking the time to check exactly what he was throwing on, the boy managed to pull on a pair of dark cargo pants and a light brown sleeveless shirt that would be typically worn around the apartment. Not having the time to be fussy, the child rushed toward his equipment pouch and belt that mirrored that of Chikami's rather closely due to the fact that she had helped him assemble it, taking into account the boy's preference to lead with his left hand rather than his right. Once the belt and pouch were secured so that the pouch hung just over his backside, the boy moved to grab the scroll, securing it in one of the many pockets of his pants. Finally the headband was next. Still moving in haste, the boy grabbed for the metal plate with his injured right hand, pausing only briefly as the sudden surge of pain rushed up his arm. Grunting in protest, the child's grip tightened around the branded metal as he pulled the entire piece toward him and made his way toward the door. There was no time to tend to the bloody bandages on his hand. He'd change them later.

With that the boy was off, rushing through the village on his way to the training field. By the time he'd reach the designated meeting area the time would be around 5:15 in the evening, a whole hour later than the time the two had designated. The sun, while still shining warmly on the land below, remained hidden by the clouds, it's light only managing to occassionally penetrate through the thin blanket of moisture from time to time as the clouds drifted in a soft yet steady wind current that carried them westward.

"Chikami-chan!"

Takeshi's voice would cut through the otherwise quiet atmosphere as he neared the lone oak tree which his friend was currently standing beneath, it's shade providing further cover from the sun's rays. It was just like her, given that the girl detested the sun's harsh effects on her near porcelain white complexion. Moving as fast as his legs could carry him, Takeshi would reach his friend, stopping just over three feet from her current position before bending over to place both hands on his knees as he allowed himself time to catch his breath.

"Sorry...I...overslept..."

The words, though strained, managed to convey his meaning in the midst of his harsh breathing, at least he hoped. Having been so focused on reaching the training field quickly, the boy hadn't even bothered to tie the headband which was still clutched in his bandaged right hand.

While the young girl waited, she leant her weight back against the oak tree and slowly slid down to the ground, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. She raised a hand to the top of one of her knees and slowly started to drum her fingers against the kneecap, watching the entrance to the training grounds and waiting. Chikami was by no means impatient, and she would wait here for as long as necessary until her friend appeared, but she needed to fidget in some way to keep her occupied if this was going to be a long wait of any kind. As she sat on the lush grass beneath the shade of the quaint little oak tree, her mind was cast back to the meeting she had with Takeshi and their sensei, Daisuke. In the physical challenge of ‘try to tag the sensei’, she had been utterly useless aside from coming up with a loose plan that barely did much to aid them in catching the elusive blonde man in the end anyway. The mental challenge that had followed was something that she managed to be at least a little bit useful with, because it was her mind that she relied on as opposed to her strength, speed or anything else physical. Her fitness was not the greatest it could be because of her adversity to doing something that felt like ‘exercise’ and therefore would be exhausting.

‘What kind of ninja am I, anyway?’ She thought somewhat bitterly, frowning as she shifted her gaze away from the entrance to the training grounds and instead stared long and hard at a tuft of grass in front of her. Shinobi were supposed to be masters of stealth, and able to keep going in fights no matter what; hence their obvious physical prowess. She understood that everyone had their own skillsets, but she wasn’t even somewhat capable at Taijutsu to keep up with basic requirements. It was not her desire to become a kunoichi, but now that she had managed to become one (against all odds), she felt at least somewhat obligated to become good at her profession. ‘That’s why I’m here today. To improve and actually become a real ninja, one that the village can eventually be proud of. Emphasis on eventually…’ Her thoughts trailed off as she lifted her gaze from the ground to survey the area around her. Konoha was a pretty place, although it was usually much too hot for the young girl to handle.

A gentle breeze was blowing across the training grounds, rustling the leaves up in the trees, and making any loose articles of clothing, plus her short indigo locks, to be tugged along with it. At least the weather today was bearable for her, and she wouldn’t be too exhausted from the heat due to it finally starting to cool down, what with autumn months approaching. That, and it was early evening, so it was bound to start cooling down at this time. It felt like she had been waiting for an awfully long time, and she was starting to wonder whether Takeshi would even make his way to the training grounds to meet her. ‘No, he’ll be here. He wouldn’t just let me sit here alone.’ She thought to herself, shaking the earlier negative thoughts from her mind about her friend merely leaving her all alone. They had been there for one another since they were both very young, and she hoped that this tradition of theirs wouldn’t end any time soon. She still needed Takeshi, to help her get stronger and start believing in herself. It was courage that she needed, it was the strength to stand up for what she believed in, and what she knew was right. After that mission where Buta had appeared and come to their aid, she really started to think about her own strength (or lack of it, thereof) and the fact that she had to stop being a burden and start becoming strong enough to stand on her own two feet.

It made her wonder what Takeshi would do, when she had gotten to that point in her life. Would he stop being her friend, stating that his work had been done with her, and she didn’t need him anymore? The thought saddened her, and she hoped that he wouldn’t just leave her after she had managed to gain her confidence and strength. Before she could dwell upon that any longer, her attention was drawn to a familiar voice calling her name. She looked up from the ground and spotted Takeshi running towards her, obviously out of breath from rushing around as he approached. She got to her feet and dusted herself off, looking at him and tilting her head to the side as he finally reached her. He apologised and said that he overslept, which seemed strange considering the time of day, but she didn’t say anything about that. Her attention was instead drawn to his headband, or rather, the hand that held it. Blood was soaking a set of once-white bandages, wrapped around his hand that was obviously injured. A frown tugged at her lips and she placed a hand on her hip, leaning forward to look at him and his wound more clearly.

“Takeshi-kun, what happened to your hand?” She couldn’t help but sound a little demanding when she spoke. Since they had been children, her friend had always been accident-prone and would always put himself in harms-way; such was his foolhardy nature. She couldn’t help but wonder what he had managed to do this time around. After waiting for an answer from her friend for a significant amount of time, she would sigh softly and shake her head in a fond manner, reflecting on how he had always been the same since they were both much younger than they currently were. “That aside, are you sure that you can spar with the injury you have? It looks like it needs more time to heal.” She was obviously worried about her friend’s wound, and there was a part of her that was trying to weasel her way out of the spar. Not in a mean way, but in a way that she was concerned about Takeshi and how it would re-open and agitate his wound further if he went against her. But in all honesty, she didn’t think that she would be much of a match for her friend. He’d probably be able to swipe her aside easily. His injury would hinder him, however, she was aware of that much. Without another word, she stepped towards him and beckoned for him to hold out his hand, taking his headband from his grasp if he had not already it on, and started to examine his wound. Very carefully, she pulled away the bloody bandages and let them drop to the ground, her small, soft hands grasping his injured one.

It was clear to her that this was a wound from a blade of some kind, a rather sharp one at that. ‘How on earth would he have come by such a sharp blade? This isn’t something inflicted by an accidental run-in with a kunai or shuriken. It’s very clean cut… and sliced deep…’ She thought to herself, brow furrowing slightly as she inspected the wound further. Then, she reached into one of her pouches to pull out a small roll of bandages and securing tape, beginning to bandage over the wound carefully yet tightly so that its bindings wouldn’t come loose too easily. When finished, she secured the bandage with the tape and put her basic tools back in her pouch, looking at her friend and slowly shaking her head at him, not in a disapproving manner, but it was more a way of saying ,‘You really should be more careful, you know’. Having done that for him, she waited for him to answer her questions about whether or not he could still spar.

Word Count: 1340
Total Word Count: 2246

“Takeshi-kun, what happened to your hand?” Obvious concern seemed to flood Chikami's tone as she inquired about the injury. Reflexively, Takeshi's gaze drifted toward his injured appendage, staring down at the blood stained bandages that currently masked the wound he carried. The injury burned and throbbed with pain, though it was far from unbearable. The worst had passed last night and the discomfort that he was currently experiencing was a sign that his body was taking measures to repair itself. Still, such a deep gash would take time, even with Takeshi's chakra enhanced healing mechanisms. With a small sigh, Takeshi's greenish blue orbs slowly shifted back in Chikami's direction as he flashed her a rather mischievous and confident grin.

"Just a small accident, nothing big."

Despite his attempt to quell his friend's concern, he could see the worry etched on her face even as she tried her best to appear calm. He had known Chikami for far too long to be fooled by such simple measures. The small shake of the head which would have indicated to most that she found the situation more humorous than worrisome was but a front she put on in order to not seem too overbearing or protective. It was no secret to Takeshi that despite the girl's meek personality, that when it came to him she could get very protective in her own way. Rather than step in the way of harm like he did, she was always there to try and pick up the pieces of whatever hurt the boy, physical or emotional. Hers was always the hand that was offered to help him off the ground, or the gentle caress over a tender area that needed tending. She was the bandage on a smarting wound and in this case it was no different. Predictably the question he had been dreading came. “That aside, are you sure that you can spar with the injury you have? It looks like it needs more time to heal.” Though the boy had expected something like this to arise, it made hearing the concern no less bothersome.

It was true that the injury on his hand was far from completely healed. There was also little doubt in the boy's mind that fighting while carrying such a wound would only delay the healing process and even leave Takeshi open to the possibility of worsening the injury. Despite all that though, the boy was resolved to spar with his friend today. He had promised that they would. Both of them needed the practice. Their lack of skill in combat had become all too obvious in their most recent mission and training with Daisuke-sensei. While Takeshi had seen his fair share of fights, he was little more than an angry punching bag; able to take an intense amount of punishment yet barely able to dole it out unless sufficiently enraged, and even then such a strategy was unreliable at best. They both needed to grow more proficient in combat. Chikami needed to learn how to fight in general and Takeshi needed to learn how to think clearly in the midst of battle. Jumping on his opponents and smashing their faces in was not a fool proof strategy. Neither was diving off buildings in order to throw kunai at a fleeing opponent. There was no way he was going to let this opportunity pass them by, especially since the two of them had managed to find themselves with the day off. Before he could answer though, Takeshi realized that Chikami had already made her way toward him, her hands gently grabbing for his injured appendage. Promptly removing the headband from his grasp, the small girl began to unravel the bloody bandages, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that the gauze was now more red than white. Most girls would have found the very idea of touching another person's blood disgusting, at least that's what Takeshi thought. Seeing Chikami so effortlessly remove the wrappings in order to examine the gashing wound caused Takeshi's cheeks to redden ever so slightly as his gaze slowly averted itself toward the right in order to avoid staring directly at her.

"I-I'm fine, Chikami-chan. Really."

This was making him uncomfortable. He was used to being close to his friend, but not like this. While it was true she had tended to his wounds before, it was usually a simple matter of using a cloth to clean the damaged area or applying a plaster over the affected area. There was seldom any hand holding or prolonged periods of inspection. Even the more simpler procedures always seemed to cause Takeshi to become somewhat flustered, though the occurance had definitely become more common place in the later years of their academy training. Why did he get so worked up when she was this close to him? Without a word, the female suddenly began to re-wrap the wound, using the bandages she always seemed to carry in the event that Takeshi injured himself. A small sigh would escape the male's lips as his eyes slowly shifted back toward his childhood friend, watching as she quickly redressed the wound, wrapping the bandages considerably tighter than Takeshi had with the earlier set. Once the process had finished Takeshi would slowly retract his hand from Chikami's grasp, his hand slowly balling into a loose fist before slowly unfolding. Takeshi would do this a few more times, as if trying to get used to the new sense of tightness around his hand. Once satisfied, the boy's attention would shift back toward his friend, giving her a small, if not shy smile.

"Thanks...I'm ready to start anytime."

Still resolved to go through with the pre-planned spar, Takeshi would begin to back up to a suitable distance of two meters from his friend while tying his headband around his head in the proper shinobi fashion. Unless stopped Takeshi would shift his stance, bringing his right foot slightly forward as his left slid backwards along the grass. Moving his arms his left fist would come up in front of his body as his frame shifted so that he was leading with his left shoulder. Bending his left arm at the elbow, his fist would come up to near face level while his right arm was pulled back slightly so that it remained in front of his chest, poised to strike if need be. With his eyes locked on his friend he'd offer her a small grin.

"Show me your fighting stance, just like they taught us at the academy."

While Takeshi was aware of the fact that Chikami had indeed been made to spar during her time at the academy, he was pretty sure that such spars were the largest extent of her fighting experience. When it came to actual fights the girl was most likely clueless. There was no true way for Takeshi to know this, of course, but he knew his friend well enough to know of her fear of conflict and how such fear had often led the young girl to just remaining still and frozen even if someone laid hands on her. She had often mimicked an animal playing dead, hoping that whoever had been terrorizing her would soon lose interest. It was that fear that led Takeshi to believe that the girl most likely had not sought out others to spar or fight beyond what was absolutely required. Unlike Takeshi, who took almost any opportunity he could to fight, combat would probably feel a bit strange to her at first. He wanted to ease her into the fight. He didn't want to hurt or scare her. With this in mind, Takeshi waited patiently for his friend to prepare herself.

"We'll start on your mark. You can make the first move if you'd like."

Once the words were spoken, Takeshi would wait for the girl's signal, either given in the form of a verbal confirmation or in the form of an offensive maneuver of some type to show that the spar had truly begun.

‘Just a small accident’. Oh of course. Just a small accident had left a deep gash wound in her friend’s hand. She had already heard every comment in the book regarding injuries that Takeshi managed to get in their lifetime, and she wasn’t about to buy that one either. Of course, she moved forward with her determination to at least bandage his wound properly. Takeshi never had been very proficient with looking after his own wounds. At least with this one he had bandaged it, by the looks of things (even if the bandages were loose), which was a large improvement on his current track record. If the two of them ever played children’s games of pretend, which they didn’t often do as kids, she would always be the nurse that had to look after him until he was better again. That was basically their childhood together in a nutshell, but of course she didn’t mind. Just the fact that he was her friend, and such a loyal one at that, made her indescribably happy at times like this. While one might be wondering why it made her happy that she was friends with such a reckless boy, it was actually very simple. He was always there to protect her from physical blows; the punches and the kicks that were dealt out by the mean bullies they had grown up with. A lot of the time, she would feel particularly useless by comparison. What could she do to help him, after all? She was weedy and couldn’t bring herself to punch a pillow, let alone a person. She adopted this role happily, for Takeshi, because she wanted to be there for him as much as he was there for her. She wasn’t quite leaping in front of him to take any blows, but she was there in her own way, and she hoped that he appreciated her as much as she appreciated him.

Even at his protest she continued her work, indigo orbs focused on the wound on his hand with a little bit of tunnel-vision. If she had taken the chance to look up, she would have been confused by the fact that Takeshi was averting his gaze from her and seemed a little redder than normal. Instead, she just worked to bandage up his wound, using all her earlier practise from other wounds her close friend had gotten in the past. After she had bandaged up his hand and she was happy with it, she was unaware that her gentle grip on his hand lingered slightly before he drew his hand away. Involuntarily, her own cheeks reddened slightly at the embarrassment that she felt, even if she didn’t understand why. She had only been touching his hand, why was that such a big deal? She looked up at her friend, unaware of the redness on her face aside from feeling a little warmer than usual. She watched as he straightened and then curled his hand, testing it and making sure it was secured enough before he was ready. He thanked her and then stated that he was ready when she was, which, to her dismay, meant that he was still ready to spar with her.

She tried to hide her obvious fear behind a small smile and a nod of her head, watching as he moved two metres away from her to prepare for their friendly fight. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the purpose of their spar, it was more the fact that she was ashamed of her skills in any kind of situation that she wasn’t familiar with, and as such, this situation was the literal worst for her to be tangled up in. She watched as Takeshi got into his own fighting stance, one she had seen so many times before when he had later lunged at bullies to beat them up and teach them a lesson. Did she even have a fighting stance of her own? When prompted to get into a fighting stance, just like they had been taught in the Academy, she blinked wide-eyed briefly before slowly nodding her head. “H-Hai…” She couldn’t help but be at least a little bit nervous about this whole process. She knew that Takeshi was her friend, and he wasn’t one to judge, but she could still be scared about what he’d think of her when he saw her pathetic attempt to fight anything or anyone.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to at least give this a shot, even if she was petrified about what her friend would think of her afterwards. She sank into a fighting stance that she remembered from the Academy, in which her knees were slightly bent while her leading fist (the right) was slightly ahead, and her following arm (the left) was directed backwards, bent at the elbow with the hand curled into a loose fist also. It was much like Takeshi’s stance, but hers was a lot more rigid, and nowhere near as fluid. And, to the trained eye, they would notice the fact that she was shaking, if only slightly. Her left hand was placed purposely near the pouch which contained her puppet, Ichirou, so that she could flip open the pouch at a second’s notice and pull out the scroll needed to summon him to the field. ‘On my mark…’ She grimaced slightly, half tempted to shake her head and ask Takeshi to start. She was so nervous; she could feel her heart hammering at her ribcage so hard that it felt as if it would burst from her chest. The field in front of her dissolved into the back yard at the orphanage, and instead of Takeshi facing her, the boy who had always bullied her since she could remember, Buta, was stood in his place. His arms were folded cockily across his chest, and he was smirking that terrible smirk of his that basically spelt out her pain and misery. Slowly, she could feel her body tensing, as if awaiting a great impact, and she instinctively shut her eyes. ‘I… I don’t know if I can do this…’ She thought desperately, already trying to scramble around for an excuse as to why she couldn’t spar today.

‘You’re pathetic, you know that, right? You’ll never be a real ninja if you just stand there and expect him to protect you all of the time.’

The imaginary Buta that she was seeing in the place of Takeshi sneered at her, spitting on the ground to show his disgust at her cowardice. While she knew that her brain was giving her the correct message, it was heavily combated by her instinct and the scarring she had been subjected to while growing up. She had never asked to become a ninja. She had known that she would be no good, and would meet an early grave instead of seeing the world, living her own life and being herself. The only hope she had of surviving the world as a shinobi was behind puppets; beings of her own creation, made entirely out of wood and her deep love for them, plus their defensive and offensive potential. She, as in, herself, was powerless to do anything except pull the strings. Her shaking only intensified while her internal battle continued, and both sides of her brain tried to gain control of her actions. One side was telling her curl into a ball and escape the spar, while the other side was telling her seize the chance to become strong and start protecting what mattered to her, namely the boy she was facing in this very spar.

‘Without Takeshi… I don’t know what I’d do…’ She thought to herself as sorrow started to overwhelm her at this point. He had become so much more than just a friend to her, she was starting to comprehend that in her mind. He was always there, helping her back up and taking the worst damage so that she wouldn’t have to. And how was she repaying him? Occasionally being an amateur medic to help him get over some of the worse wounds he got. If they went on a mission, a real mission to take down a target, she would freeze and Takeshi would have to fight on his own. And, he would most probably die. The bitter realisation hit her like a tonne of bricks, and suddenly, something in her eyes changed like a small flash. Her eyes narrowed a little, and both of her fists were clenched tightly all of a sudden while she found her new resolve. She wasn’t sure how long it would last, because ultimately, she was still that timid child who despised conflict and felt physically sick while contemplating it. So she had to act quickly while she could, for the sake of the only person in the world she held dear. She was suddenly off and running, right at her current opponent, and just before reaching him, she skipped a step to launch herself into the air as high as she could manage with little preparation for the jump itself. She probably managed to get herself into the air as high as three metres, probably less than that, but it still gave her an aerial advantage which she decided to utilise.

“You can’t hold back, Takeshi! I refuse to let you! Please, treat me as if you would treat a real enemy! I need to learn… I need to learn what it is to fight!” She found herself shouting as she started her descent, picking up speed as gravity brought her down. She extended her right leg just before she came too close to her sparring partner, and swung it down with as much force as she could muster, aiming for his shoulder. Her movements were sloppy, but they had purpose; if the attack connected, it would most certainly hurt. “I may not have wanted to become a kunoichi, but I have to face it! There can be no more running from the truth! Teach me what it means to have courage!” While her cries were full of vigour, her eyes told the story of being desperate, reaching out for answers in the midst of her attack.

Word Count: 1708
Total Word Count: 3954

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