Chapter 4: The Hawk and the Rabbit
November 14, 4 AK
CRACK.
I hit the training post hard enough to make the slightly grimy wood groan in protest. A bloody imprint of my knuckles remained behind, encrusting the aged log with fresh crimson.
"Average. Maybe a bit better."
The words echoed in my skull.
That fucking Chunin instructor.
With a casual scribble on a clipboard, he had consigned me to death. To a faceless grave. Forgotten before I had even made a proper name for myself.
As if Sasuke would care about some random second cousin once removed.
As if Itachi and Obito would even know my fucking face.
I would be just another name on the memorial—if they even bothered to put one up. Spat upon by the village, the little kanji scratchings covered by moss and dust, fading to nothing in a decade.
All because some no-name Academy teacher thought I wasn't "impressive" enough?!
FUCK THAT.
I wouldn't let some nobody—some cannon fodder, some dropout, no-talent hack—tell me to calmly accept death because I was "still growing."
I didn't have time to grow.
I needed to be strong now.
CRACK.
A rush of chakra to my fist sent spiderweb fractures through the log. A few flakes of old wood fluttered off in a tepid, greyish cloud.
Cracks. Just cracks.
Not shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces. Not making it explode in a puff of dust.
Not... not good enough.
Not good enough to live.
My legs gave out. I sank to my knees, shaking with silent, panicked sobs. My chest heaved, but no sound escaped. Tears dropped from my face onto the hard-packed earth, the moisture briefly darkening the dusty brown soil before fading away into nothing.
Just like I would.
Scuff.
A soft sound from behind me. A shinobi being polite enough to make noise so as not to sneak up on a crying child.
I stood, wiping at my eyes. I turned to greet the interloper, forcing a scowl off my face.
My breath caught in my throat.
My blood turned to ice.
My heart stopped.
Itachi.
The cold hand of inevitable fate settled around my shoulders like a cloak. Its silken voice whispered sweetly in my ear as I lost myself in the depths of the midnight held in his gaze.
Look. Here he is.
Your death incarnate.
Will it be quick?
A stiletto through the eye? A yanking snap of the neck? Fade to black?
Will it be slow?
A sword across the gut? My organs on display, watching my insides fall out as I scream my last breath, clutching my intestines while the scent of shit fills my nose?
Will it hurt?
A long, slow bleed out in the forest as I crawl away like an animal?
Please.
Will it HURT?
My eyes burned. Suddenly, everything became so... clear.
My executioner raised an elegant eyebrow. His face was set in a polite, expressionless mask of nobility.
"I had not heard that you had awakened your Sharingan, Hiroki-san."
I froze.
I smiled mechanically. Jerkily. I nodded my head.
He must not know. He must not see. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer—
"It was very recent, Itachi-sama."
His brows pinched infinitesimally at the honorific.
I flinched visibly. My breath grew shallow and rapid. His expression smoothed once more to placid unreadability. I had to fight the urge to claw at the skin of my hands.
My eyes stopped burning, and the hyper-clarity left the world as I forced down the instinctive threat response, cutting the chakra to my eyes.
I forced a modest, shaky laugh. I rubbed the back of my head with my bandaged, bloody hand in feigned embarrassment, scuffing the ground with my sandal.
"Sorry. I only meant... that is... you startled me."
He hummed in acknowledgment. He cocked his head ever so slightly.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Can't even act like a normal human being to literally save your life.
"I startled you bad enough to awaken your Sharingan?"
I froze again. Like every little white rabbit that ever tried to hide from the hawk.
Please don't look here.
Look somewhere else.
There's nothing here.
I am nothing.
I want to live.
Please. Please. Please.
"I—I didn't mean... You're just... uh, my idol, Itachi-sama," I stammered, the lie tasting like ash. "You're so strong. You... you're just better."
I clamped my hand onto my wrist to stop it from twitching. I tried desperately to keep my gaze steady, but my eyes wanted to dart anywhere but at him. Searching for escape routes.
But there was no escape. There was never any escape.
I was too weak. Too pathetic. Too slow. Too dumb.
"I have always held you as the epitome of what it means to be a shinobi of the Leaf," I rushed on, the words tumbling out. "I have been trying to match your achievements, but I fear that I lack your natural aptitude."
Because I wasn't born with some bullshit reincarnation destiny. And you were. And you're going to kill me because I didn't win the fucking lottery.
"I was somewhat... discomfited by my mid-semester performance evaluation at the academy. It seems likely I will not be able to graduate in only a year. Then seeing you... I apologize most sincerely."
I bowed deeply. My whole body clenched to avoid trembling.
Would he buy it?
Would he see through the half-truth?
Would he just decide to get this one out of the way early?
A quick stab to the base of the skull. Unfortunate training accident. So sad. Prime of his life. Oh well. Move along.
Sandaled feet appeared before me. A long shadow consumed the ground, swallowing the light.
I couldn't breathe. The tightness in my throat was strangling me. My eyes began to swim with tears again.
It wasn't fair. Why did I have to die? I worked so hard—
"I am sorry to hear that," Itachi said, his voice void of emotion. "I have seen how much effort you put into training. I am sure you will do the clan proud."
My head jerked from side to side in a negative. The motion was stiff. Forced.
He would see through it. He would know.
Say something. Say something.
Save yourself.
"The clan can take care of itself," I whispered, the words bypassing my brain entirely. "My first duty is to the Village."
Silence.
Just like everything Itachi did, he was completely devoid of presence whenever he didn't want to be noticed. He was a ghost. No more substance than a mirage, and just as cruel to travelers in the desert.
I couldn't even hear him breathing.
The only sound in the training field was the faintest rustle of wind in the trees and the pounding of my heart against my ribs.
"...Indeed."
And then, the feet turned away.
The shadow retreated.
The hawk flew on.
Behold: The rabbit lives for another day.
The gentle padding of Itachi's retreat filled me with such palpable relief that I nearly threw up. I fell to my knees as my legs turned to rubber in the shuddering wake of the adrenaline crash.
I held it in, swallowing the acidic bile back down. I only straightened after I had finally caught up to my racing breath. The restrained trembling came back in full force, my fingers twitching spasmodically as they clawed at the dark soil.
When at last I was able to stand, I turned back to the post.
I struck it.
Harder than before.
Faster than before.
I set to my work with an energy renewed by the burning throb of panic in my skull. The desperate beat of the fleeing rabbit's tread mirrored the hammering of my frenzied heart.
I will not die.
I must be strong.
x-X-x
The sunset that night was beautiful.
The leaves of the trees became fire as the lingering yellow rays of light streamed through them.
Fear of Death is the Spice of Life.
Who knew?
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