+
Finding out your entire life—no—your entire identity had been nothing more than a fabrication of lies, was a lot harder to grasp ahold of than it seemed.
Even now, laying on this cheap hotel mattress in the darkness, listening to the sounds of Ryuu's snores, I couldn't wrap my mind around it.
Most would probably be kicking and screaming. Throwing a fit over the fact that such an important piece of their life was held from them for almost their entire lifetime.
But I couldn't find a trace of anger.
And truly, I think it's because I wasn't surprised.
I'd known for some time that Kenji wasn't my real dad. Of course as a little, little girl I had thought he was because I hadn't had any other reason to think he wasn't. There wasn't anyone else around. He lived with me, fed me, clothed me—wasn't that what a parent was supposed to do?
The truth was delivered when I was five, and even then I hadn't thrown a fit over it. My old man wanted to squash the thought that I was his biological daughter before I became too attached to the idea, and it would be too difficult to break the news.
And when I put more thought into it, the only thing I was remotely irritated about, was the fact he had known about my clan. Known where I had came from. Known who my family was. I wasn't some lost kid no one wanted to begin with— I was a kid with an entire clan. An entire family full of people that were related to me, that were supposed to be my family.
My clan was another subject entirely. I was so curious about these people, who they were, their culture.
Did they look like me? Did they act like me? What kinds of food did we like? Did we have any special jutsus passed through the generations?
While simple questions, thinking about these things and imagining my mysterious family made me feel comforted.
Maybe I had a goal now.
I wanted to find my family. I wanted to know more.
I rolled over in the bed, clenching the rough comforter in my hand. The sounds of Ryuu's loud snores were a lot less annoying now when I pictured my clan. All my possible cousins, if I had any aunts or uncles... a Kaa-chan... my real Tou-chan... together as a family. Did I have any siblings?
I chewed my lower lip, fighting back the stupid smile that threatened to pull at the corners of my mouth.
Family, huh?
Didn't sound too bad.
+
The next morning I got dressed and took a shower, before getting my gear on and making my way toward the provided training grounds. This time I didn't get lost, finding the path to the secluded grounds pretty easily.
The grounds themselves though, didn't look all that interesting.
An empty clearing, a few stumps, and a collection of trees surrounding that empty clearing. There were a few empty patches of dirt where grass was supposed to be, but was probably torn up from someone training here.
The training grounds in Kumo didn't look that different from this one. There were less trees, more rocks, and it was a lot cooler. The heat was still a bit of an adjustment from Kumo's high elevations and low temperatures. I was regretting not picking up a pair of shorts or another short sleeved shirt.
I rolled my shoulder, looking around the clearing for a blonde head of hair.
I didn't see him around anywhere, but knowing him he had probably gotten distracted by his magazine and forgotten what time he planned to meet me.
Kenji wasn't late often, but he did have a bad habit of getting caught up in who the Lighting Daimyo was having an affair with.
I sighed and walked over to the shade of the tree, dropped down in front of it, leaned against the trunk, and propped my arm up on my knee.
"Hey, whats with all the lazing around?"
I squinted in the distance, spotting my old man sauntering into the clearing with a magazine tucked underneath his arm. He held a clear plastic cup with a straw sticking out the top, light brown liquid splashing around the sides and little balls sitting at the bottom of the cup. I couldn't tell perfectly, but I was pretty sure that was—
"You stopped for boba?!" I cried, throwing my hand up in disbelief.
He took a sip of his drink, stopping in front of me with a raised brow. "Yeah. I had some extra time since I left early. Why? You wanna sip?"
"No!" I kicked at his foot, but he didn't even flinch, continuing to sip at his drink nonchalantly.
It took every single fiber in my body to not slap the drink from his hand, but I know doing that would only put him in a pissy mood. He was like a PMSing woman when he got irked, and no one wanted to be around him when he was like that. Take my word for it.
I scowled. "You came all the way here to train me for the chunin exams, yet you wasted time stopping for a drink?"
Kenji waved me off, magazine rolled in his hand. "Whatever. I'm an adult and a jonin. I can do what I want."
He pointed at me with narrowed eyes. "But you're just a punk kid—so shut it."
I tapped the metal plate of my head protector, nail clinking against the shiny plate. "Actually, I technically became an adult when I earned this—"
"But I'm Jonin," he interrupted. "Which means I'm more respected than you. I deserve your respect as an elite ninja—so respect me."
"Just telling me I should respect you, doesn't mean I'm going to."
"You're such a little shit."
"Your nurturing touch made me this way." I remarked, smirking and crossing my arms over my chest. "Take responsibility for your actions, old man."
"Whatever." Kenji waved me off, walking over to a tall boulder in the shade, setting the iced tea on top along with his magazine. He leaned on the rock with one arm, crossing one ankle behind the other, giving me a raised brow. "Now, are you gonna get off your ass so we can do this training you've been whining about the lack thereof?"
I jumped to my feet, placing my hands on my hips and giving him a level headed glare. "Nah, I say we sit around and talk about the weather for a few hours—"
I flinched, barely ducking under the fist that suddenly swung in my direction. A powerful gust of wind fluttered my hair, rushing past my ears and causing my eyes to squint. Kenji regarded me with a shit eating grin, but didn't hesitate to continue attacking me.
He swung his fists in powerful punches that I still, was barely dodging, noisy wind scraping over the tops of his bruised and calloused knuckles. He wasn't even fazed by the quick attacks he was making, but I was getting winded.
He was ridiculously fast. Too fast for me to keep up with.
"What is with you and the element of surprise lately?!" I cried, sidestepping to avoid a kick to the gut.
Kenji narrowly missed my face, the grin not wavering from his lips. "Always have your guard up, Kohana! Overconfidence is what's going to get you killed."
Getting fed up with this violent dance (which I was slowly losing) I shunshinned across the yard, wanting to put as much distance between myself and the psycho blonde man that I was convinced had a death wish for his surrogate daughter.
He cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling out to me. "Since when have you been one for running away from a fight?!"
"Hey!" I pointed a finger at him. "I'm not running away! I'm just—uh—putting some much needed distance between us!"
"You won't get much improvement by just 'putting distance' between you and the opponent over and over," he said, hand snaking down to his waist, hovering over the handle of his katana.
My annoyed expression smoothed into a smirk, the sound of his blade scraping against the inside of the sheath sending goosebumps up my arms. I pulled my tanto from its place on my back, freshly cleaned metal glistening in the sunlight. I adjusted my grip, winding my fingers around the handle like a long dagger, blade pointing down and thumb pointing at my face.
"Ah, now you seem a bit more eager." Kenji cocked his head to the side, feigning confusion. "Wonder where you got that blade from? Someone with good taste must have picked it out for you."
I snorted. "A wrinkly old geezer named Akaashi Kenji gave it to me. His taste isn't too bad."
Kenji chuckled. "Maybe I'll have to meet him sometime."
He was in front of me in a second, slicing in my direction with a loose hand and complete grace. He treated the sword like a lethal, sharp extension of his arm, the precision of cuts almost too good for my liking. If I hadn't known he wasn't going to seriously harm me, I probably would have been scared out of my mind—
I hissed at the stinging pain in my cheek, jerking back and ducking away from him, sliding underneath his arm and putting a safe cushion of space between us. I breathed heavily with short huffs, eyeing him in case he decided to lunge again. Slowly, I raised a hand to my face, running my fingers over the part in most pain, before pulling away to see the light red blood staining my finger pads.
I stared at the liquid, before allowing my gaze to flicker back up toward my old man, who was regarding me with a smirk. He spun the blade up inches before his face, eyeing the thin line of blood on the shiny metal of his katana.
"You let me cut you," he smirked, brown eyes meeting my gaze. "It seems you're under the impression that I'll hold back. Am I wrong?"
I hesitated, adjusting my grip on the tanto, bandages having become much sweatier within the last few minutes.
The smirk, the cocky attitude—it wasn't exactly normal from him. My old man could be a bit of a weird one, I was well aware. But he was acting odd. Acting with an ulterior motive. I wasn't sure what that motive would be, but he had never actually injured me before. Even while training he had never injured me. In the beginning, when I first started my shinobi training, I of course fell and bruised. Got a few scrapes. But Kenji never made a point to hurt me.
I chewed on my lower lip, trying to ignore the trickling sensation of blood dripping down my cheek.
Kenji didn't give me another second to respond, slicing in my direction with even wilder movements. I could feel the rush of wind from each strike, blowing the hair from my face. These strikes weren't with the intent to practice. They were swung with the intent to fucking maim me.
"Shit!" I managed to dodge another swing of the katana by a hair, thin blade passing merely inches before my face. The distinctive whoosh would have normally sent a sense of excitement through me—but I didn't know what to think.
I just felt...off.
"C'mon, Kohana!" He roared, clasping both hands around the katanas hilt and bringing it down over his head. It smashed onto my tanto I had barely managed to slide in its path to protect myself.
I grunted, barley pushing up against his blade. If I let up even just a little bit, then I was sure he would come crashing down onto me and take my head off along with it. And fuck, I was not exactly looking to die. At least not this close to the chunin exams.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I screeched, wincing as he applied more pressure to our shifting blades.
He pressed harder and grinned, eyes narrowed with a hidden emotion that made my skin crawl. "Aren't you going to fight back?!"
"What are you even going on about?! You're being psycho!" I cried, giving him a disbelieving look. "And that's coming from me!"
Kenji took me by surprise and knocked my feet out with a forceful kick. I toppled to the ground, dry, green grass tickling my wrists and poking through my shirt. The sweaty tanto had fallen out of my grip and rested too far away for me to grab it—and from the look my old man was giving me, I was sure he was going to dice me up into little pieces and serve me as the proteins of his stir fry for lunch.
I grimaced, looking up at him. I didn't make any attempt to fight back, but I did feel pretty pathetic. I could fare decently when it came to using a blade, but I wasn't good. I wasn't great.
He was a jonin, and obviously way out of my league. But I only lasted what? Five minuets? That was absolutely pathetic! I should at least be able to hold out for ten, if that. Fifteen at best.
Kumogakure was a village with shinobi that mostly prevailed in areas of kenjutsu. Truly, it was rare to find someone who didn't have some sort of blade (besides a Kunai) in the village hidden in the clouds.
The major difference between the Cloud and the Leaf with their graduating Genin, was that each student was required to have some sort of specialty. Whether that be kenjutsu—like Katsu and myself—or fuinjutsu—like Ryuu had specialized in. But it wasn't just strictly those two areas, they could prevail in genjutsu, shurikenjutsu, or even a specific area of ninjutsu. It didn't matter, as long as they had something about them that made them unique and a valuable asset.
Between those that graduated alongside myself, I had placed top for my skills in kenjutsu. Even with the slight disadvantage of a shorter, dagger type blade, I still managed to place first. Back then, I had a shitty tanto given to me on my first day of the academy. I had wonderfully managed to break it on one of my missions before leaving for the chunin exams, which was why my old man gave me a new one as a surprise.
But even when placing first against a bunch of measly Genin, my skills were still painfully low with much, much room for improvement.
Kenji stared at me, before sighing and sliding his katana into its sheath. He ran a hand through his dyed hair, blonde locks tangling between his fingers. My grimace morphed into a frown at the look of disappointment on his face.
He stared off in the distance with a deep look of thought, not sparing me another glance, hand rubbing at the light stubble on his face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking about. But I hoped it wasn't about how much of a fucking disappointment I was.
What did he expect from me? Going crazy like that out of nowhere wasn't going to solicit the best reaction from me, let alone anyone. It's not like he was expecting me to go extreme-o all of a sudden and reveal a hidden skill or something, right? Because if he did, that was probably the stupidest thing in the world.
I got to my feet, not even attempting to be gentle with the ground, sandals kicking up grass and dirt in my mini tantrum. I huffed as I walked over to my tanto, snatching it up and sticking it back into its sheath on my back. I turned to face Kenji with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.
"So?" I spat. "Are you planning to tell me what that was for?"
He stared at me, continuing to run his hand over the bottom of his face. "There wasn't anything unusual that occurred. Other than the fact you didn't fight back. Since when has Akaashi Kohana not wanted to participate in a fight?"
The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"Since she learned the one who had given her that name lied to her for ten years."
He didn't even flinch at my harsh words, regarding me with a placid expression. "Fair enough."
"Tell me why you did that," I insisted, holding my hand out as if I was pointing to what had just occurred. "That was not a normal training situation—not in the slightest. So what was your goal?"
"I wanted to see how far I could push you to unlock the Ketsuryugan." Kenji said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "But it seems a simple training exercise didn't make anything happen."
"You're not thinking I use that for the third round, are you?" I looked at him as though he was crazy. "I don't even know how to use it, nevertheless what it even does. All it's doing as of now is draining my chakra and making my eyes bleed. Nothing helpful in the slightest."
"But it's something that you should learn to use," he chided. "I don't think you understand how much this can help you, Kohana. It's not just a new jutsu—its a kekkei genkai. A bloodline limit passed down through your clan, all the way to impulsive, little delinquent, you."
"Well, what if I don't want this kekkei genkai that was passed down through my clan, all the way to impulsive, little delinquent, me." I crossed my arms, resting my weight on my hip and regarding him with a raised brow. "Besides. I'm not sure that attacking me like a madman is going to cause the Ketsuryugan to activate."
He shrugged. "I attempted to put you in a situation where you were threatened, which was the situation you were in when the dojutsu was first awakened, am I correct?"
I made a face. "I guess...but I wasn't exactly feeling threatened when it awakened. I felt more angry and...belittled than threatened."
He pondered my words, staring off in one of the various directions of the thick forest around us. "It will be something to take into account. But as of now, I don't think focusing on the power of your dojutsu is the way to go."
I rolled my eyes. No, really?
He continued. "Though overall, your combat skills could use some work. Obviously I have years of experience under my belt, putting me high above your skill level. But you should still be able to hold out for longer than five minutes in a spar."
"I'm just a little rusty is all," I dismissed, rolling my left shoulder with a slight grimace. "Plus you took me by surprise."
"You should never be taken by surprise with the career of a shinobi." He flicked me on the forehead and I swatted at his hand, but he didn't seem bothered, continuing to speak. "And even if you weren't expecting it, you never had a problem jumping into a fight against those other kids you use to hang around."
I narrowed my eyes into a pointed glare, not liking the direction he was taking the conversation in. That was just a low blow. I could see criticizing me for not taking the fight as serious as I should have. But bringing up my old habits? Plain cold. That stuff was done with. I was never going back, and I wouldn't go back even if you offered me a bajillion ryo.
I crossed my arms, trying to get the message across that this was dangerous territory. "And? What of it?"
He raised his hands up to show he wasn't meaning any harm, probably induced by my harsh glare. "Hey now, I'm just making a simple observation here. You're use to being quick on your feet and having eyes in the back of your head—I'm just surprised you're not taking advantage of those learned skills."
"I do take advantage of those skills, for your information!" I raised a finger at the sky to dramatize my point. "I can sorta repress my chakra. And that stuff I got into helped me develop my fighting style. No ones ever ready for my crazy, aggressive fighting style."
He pondered what I said. "I guess that's true."
I nodded my head and placed my hands back on my hips. "Mhm. Damn straight."
Kenji walked across the yard to his drink, the ice beginning to melt, tucked the discarded magazines under his arm, before walking back over to me. He shot me a grin and took a couple sips of his drink. "Welp, I'd say we're done here. At least for today. I did the only thing I had planned—which was try to get you to awaken your Ketsuryugan—but obviously that didn't work."
I gave him a bizarre look, mouth falling open. "So we're just...done for today?!"
He took another sip of his drink and began to fan his face with a magazine. "Yup."
"But we barely did anything at all!" I cried, mouth still hanging wide open. "If we continue training at this rate...I'm not going to get anything done at all! I'd be lucky if I improve by a hair."
I shot him a nasty glare. "You suck, man. Like, a lot."
He touched his chest with mock hurt. "How could you say a thing? I came all the way here from the land of lightning to train your sorry ass, so you better be thankful, brat. I'm training you, so I'll decide if you're improving or not, and I'll decide what you do everyday. Kapeesh?"
I crossed my arms and regarded him with a sneer. "Sure, control freak. What do you say I do while you ponder over what to teach me next, oh great Sensei?"
He shot me a grin, ignoring the mocking tone in my voice. "I'd say it's time for you to visit your wonderful teammate in the hospital."
I reeled at the thought. "Hell no!"
"Oh hell yes." He tapped me on the head with the magazine. "Now run along, little delinquent. I have a magazine to read, and you're disturbing the peace."
"Disturbing the peace my ass." I snapped. "You're supposed to be coming up with a training regime. Not lounging around reading a magazine."
"This is a form of training." He offered, taking another sip of his drink. "Called humane training. Help you gain a little more sympathy towards others, eh? Kami knows you need it."
"Oh fuck off."
"Ah, such rude language for someone who claims to not need help with people skills." He gave me another smile, before waving me forward with his hand as if he was brushing off a speck of dust. "Now run along, little delinquent."