She's jealous? I guess that makes sense. That giant fan of hers was channeling some solid wind in the third task, but nothing close to Kazu's gift. Hell, I can't do anything close to Kazu's gift. Or couldn't?
Can I... do it again?
...
"Just curious," she says. "I've never seen a genin using wind release on that scale before."
"Probably because you live in Suna," I say, only realizing after I've said it that the teasing message I intended of 'you've never seen it because you've never seen me' could maybe possibly be mistaken for 'Suna's wind specialists aren't that great'. Sakura's finger jabs me half a second after the revelation, too little too late. I almost shiver as the temperature in the room drops.
"You will learn the difference between our villages, Uzumaki," Gaara says, speaking for his furious sister with steely intent. "In time, I will teach you." He turns his back on me without another word, and his siblings are quick to follow him to the railing along with the other Suna competitors.
"She was complimenting me, wasn't she?" I say, and Sakura just shakes her head at me. Now who's the jerk, Uzumaki?
A high-pitched scream down below, followed by a cacophony of pained hisses and mixed applause from the stands, prompts me to put the tense exchange behind me and focus on the tournament. The genin box is as simply and efficiently designed as the rest of the colosseum, consisting of a row of stone benches pressed up against the back wall, a railing that's long enough for all of the gathered competitors to line up along it comfortably, and a view that places us somewhere in the middle of the stands. Sakura and I find an open spot on the railing close to the door, and I wince at what I see below.
Taro looks the same as he did in the first task, his crimson red gi and wide brown sash unchanged. His wild black hair is obscuring his face from my view up in the stands, but I can imagine the impassive stare he's leveling at his opponent. The two of them are almost dead center in the arena, in what had been one of the few areas free of stone trees during my fight. Now it's jam packed with earthen pillars of all shapes and sizes.
Taro's opponent kneels in front of him. Two pillars of earth have speared each of her legs to the ground, forcing her into the position. She's dressed in a mix of washed out blues and grays, and though I can't see it well from my vantage point I'm pretty sure she's sporting a Kiri headband. I'm also pretty sure that she's in an incredible amount of pain.
"Yield," Taro demands, and the girl's face twists in defiance. She whips her long brown hair around, and when Taro drifts a step back in response to the motion, she flashes a hand into her weapons pouch and lets half a dozen senbon fly.
It's a weak, desperate attack. Whatever the rhythm of the fight had been before, the girl is clearly on her last legs now. Taro bats the throwing needles aside with a sweep of one of his stone gauntlets, casual, unworried. Then he runs through a small string of seals.
"Earth Release: Rising Stone Pillars." Earth ripples and bursts around the two of them, ramming into the kunoichi and wrapping her up in thick slabs that trap her arms firmly against her body. The girl slumps, the pillars literally squeezing the fight out of her.
"Forfeit," she wheezes, and that's that.
"Winner of the fourth match between Matsu of Kirigakure and Taro of Iwagakure- Taro!"
"Fourth match, huh?" I mutter, more to myself than Sakura. Was Samui's teammate the second or the third match? Unless I have no idea how tournaments work, if it was the second match that would make Omoi my next opponent.
"Thi-...-d."
Yeah, now that I think about it, I probably missed the second match entirely while I was getting Sasuke fixed up in the samurai torture and interrogation infirmary. That means the conspiracy theorist is going to be Taro's next opponent, and I'll be fighting... Uh.
"Hey, Sakura. Who-"
"For the last time, he barely scratched you! The blade wasn't even poisoned!" Karui's heavenly voice cuts in, and I look back along with everyone else to the box's entrance. Samui's team appears a moment later, and I'd be lying if I said I don't take some petty satisfaction in the way the dusky skinned kunoichi pauses, stricken by all the eyes locked on her. It's about time everyone glares at someone that isn't me.
"That's your problem," Omoi rasps, apparently too busy trembling from head to toe to pay the rest of us any attention. "You never think these things through. The medics that looked at me were all samurai. Samurai, Karui. You know what samurai never use on their enemies? Poison. How can I trust that kind of inexperience with my life!?"
A weary sigh alerts me to the presence of the third and final member of the Kumo contingency just before she appears in the doorway, a hand on her hip and an utterly unamused look in her misty blue eyes. My heart leaps ahead a few beats, my throat suddenly itching with a sensation I can't quite put my finger on. I'm not happy to see her, I don't think. Not completely. At the same time, though, I'm not... unhappy.
"Sit down, both of you," Samui says, shooing her teammates towards the benches with all the suffering and patience of an Academy instructor. "Hit on each other after your matches."
"W-what!" Karui splutters. Omoi heaves a great big shiver on top of his trembling. "What are you saying!?"
Samui returns her scandalized look flatly. "Now is not the time to fight amongst each other," she says coolly.
"Oh. Oh." Karui laughs nervously, and Omoi forgets that he's been grievously poisoned long enough to sag in relief. "I thought you meant..."
"Meant what?" Samui asks, tilting her head just so. Platinum blond bangs fall across her hard eyes, turning her stern expression into something altogether softer and more innocent. Karui and Omoi share an uncertain glance.
I can't help it. I laugh.
That seems to snap the Kumo team back into awareness of the rest of the room, and the wide variety of judging looks and sneers being directed their way. Samui locks eyes with me, and I guess I really need to work on my righteous fury, because all I can muster up is a rueful shake of my head and a smile. She blinks, startled, and quickly breaks eye contact.
I should be feeling a lot more than amusement at her slip of the tongue. I should be seeing red, spitting fire, and running her down so I can take my god damn tanto back. I realize this, but for whatever reason I can't muster up the angst for it. Maybe because as the seconds tick on I'm becoming more and more convinced that Hatake was right, back at Konoha's gates, and that I went overboard with Sasuke. Not to say that his offer to handicap himself for my sake wasn't bullshit, because it definitely was, but still.
I could have proven him wrong without throwing him against a wall and yelling in his face. Maybe I can get through to Samui without being similarly dickish.
"You!"
"Ter-...-or."
My smile vanishes.
I stare at the finger leveled at my chest, tracing it to a crimson wrist guard, a baggy tan sleeve, and finally, a wide-eyed Kumo nin.
"What?" I ask, and it's probably just me, but it sounds ever so slightly off. Flat.
"You," Omoi repeats, taking a step back. If anyone had been ignoring the Kumo contingency and their banter before, they're all ears now. "I always knew the stories weren't true. I knew, but nobody believed me-"
"What are you raving about now?" Karui snaps. The dark-skinned genin inhales, shaky and dramatic.
"He's not what he seems," he declares, waving his finger at me. If not for the fact that he's genuinely terrified, I would have laughed again. "Not at all. Not even close." More than a bit of attention turns to me. Gaara, over with the Suna contingency, eyes me speculatively. Neji watches me with crossed arms, waiting for me to do I don't know what, and Lee glances back and forth between me and Omoi with concern. Sakura just looks confused.
"What, you're saying he's a fake?" Kankuro speaks up, his tone scornful.
"Right, exactly." Omoi nods quickly. "He was never real in the first place."
My jaw clenches as more and more of the room's focus falls upon me. What the hell is he trying to say? What does he think I am?
"Kyuubi."
My mouth goes dry.
"It never made sense to me before, but now that I've seen him for myself it's crystal clear," Omoi continues. Karui is hiding her face in her hands at this point, muttering about Kumo's reputation and stupid boys. Samui doesn't look like she's much more impressed with her teammate's ramblings.
Why does he- no, how does he think that? Aside from being one of the thousands of wind specialists in the world, what could possibly connect me to the demonic embodiment of all wind in his eyes? What could I have possibly done?
"Howl."
Son of a bitch.
"Uzumaki Naruto is really-"
"You think I'm the Kyuubi just because of my howl?" I snap. "You think I'm a fucking demon because of one jutsu I made up on the fly?"
Dead silence.
Omoi's arm drops, confusion warring with over dramatic fear. "How did you-?"
"How did I know? How did I know?" I growl, thoroughly insulted. I've been called a lot of unflattering things, mostly by Sasuke, but never a demon. You don't do that, after all the suffering the Kyuubi caused my village. Not even as a joke. "I knew because-"
Because... why?
I reach out for an answer, and when my memory can't find one my mind comes to a screeching halt. I look back over the conversation thus far, and realize that the other shinobi had never actually mentioned the Kyuubi, or any of the other Bijuu. I just knew what he was talking about. I just knew it. How did I just know?
"Because..." A voice whispers in my ear. A voice that I've been mistaking for my own thoughts. Six paths fucking save me.
The sentence is finished by a different voice- no, not a voice. It's not a voice that comes pounding through my head. It doesn't make any sound, there aren't any words. Another existence makes itself known, and I shudder inside and out as my own acknowledges it.
You are wind.