Konohagakure
The sun hung high in the sky, casting a harsh glare over the Academy training grounds. Rei stood in line with her classmates, her fingers twitching with anticipation. Today was kunai practice, a chance to prove herself, to show that she wasn't just the girl living in the Hatake household, dependent on others' charity.
"Remember," the sensei's voice cut through her thoughts, "precision and control are key. A shinobi must always be in command of their actions."
Rei's lips curled into a smirk. Control? She'd show them control.
As her turn approached, she watched her classmates with a critical eye. Obito's throws were wild, lacking focus. Rin's were better, but still hesitant. Even Anko, usually so confident, seemed to second-guess herself today.
Finally, it was Rei's turn. She stepped forward, ignoring the whispers that followed her. Her amber eyes locked onto the target, narrowing with determination. In one fluid motion, she grabbed not one, but three kunai.
"Arakawa," the sensei warned, "one at a time—"
But Rei was already moving. Her body twisted, arms whipping forward in a blur. The kunai flew through the air, a deadly trio seeking their mark. For a moment, it seemed they would all hit true.
Then, at the last second, Rei felt her control slip. Two of the kunai struck the outer rings of the target. The third veered off course entirely, embedding itself in the wooden post just inches from where Kakashi stood.
A collective gasp rose from the students. Kakashi didn't flinch, his dark eyes meeting Rei's in a silent challenge.
"Rei!" the sensei's voice was sharp with anger and concern. "What were you thinking? That was incredibly dangerous!"
Rei shrugged, her face a mask of indifference even as her heart raced. "I was just trying to challenge myself," she said, her tone nonchalant. "Isn't that what we're here for?"
The sensei's face reddened. "This isn't about showing off. It's about learning control and respecting your teammates' safety. Go sit out for the rest of the session. We'll discuss this later."
As Rei walked off the field, she caught sight of Anko's worried frown and Obito's wide-eyed stare. But it was Kakashi's gaze that followed her, a mixture of disappointment and something else—understanding, perhaps?
Sitting on the sidelines, Rei's facade of indifference crumbled. What had she been thinking? She hadn't meant to put anyone in danger. She just wanted to prove that she was strong, that she didn't need anyone's protection or pity.
A familiar ache settled in her chest, a loneliness that seemed to grow with each passing day. Takeshi was gone, and here she was, making a mess of things as usual. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. She couldn't feel the pain, but she imagined it was there—a sharp reminder of her failure.
As the class continued without her, Rei's mind drifted to the Hatake household, to the awkward silences and tense meals. To Kakashi's watchful eyes, always observing, never quite trusting. She was an intruder in his home, a burden he never asked for.
"I don't need anyone," she whispered to herself, a mantra she'd repeated countless times since Takeshi left. But even as the words left her lips, she felt their hollowness.
The rest of the day dragged on, a blur of lectures and exercises that Rei barely registered. As the final bell rang, signaling the end of classes, she found herself lingering behind, reluctant to face the long walk back to the Hatake household. The thought of another silent evening with Kakashi, filled with unspoken tension and awkward attempts at coexistence, made her stomach churn.
As she slowly packed her bag, a familiar voice cut through her brooding thoughts.
"Rei! Wait up!"
She turned to see Anko jogging towards her, a mischievous glint in her eyes that usually meant trouble—or fun, depending on how you looked at it. Behind her, Genma followed at a more leisurely pace, an amused smirk playing on his lips.
"We're heading to the training grounds for some extra practice," Anko announced, throwing an arm around Rei's shoulders. "You're coming with us, no excuses!"
Rei hesitated, her earlier embarrassment still fresh in her mind. "I don't know, Anko. After what happened today—"
"Oh, come on!" Anko interrupted, giving her a playful shake. "So you messed up once. Big deal! The only way to get better is to keep practicing, right?"
Genma nodded in agreement. "Besides," he added, his voice taking on a teasing tone, "we need someone to make us look good."
Rei felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite herself. The prospect of spending time with her friends, away from the suffocating atmosphere of the Hatake house, was tempting. And if she was being honest with herself, the idea of proving her earlier mistake was just a fluke was even more appealing.
"Alright," she conceded, her earlier melancholy giving way to a familiar spark of determination. "But don't blame me when I show you both up."
As they made their way to the training grounds, Rei felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. Maybe she didn't need anyone, but having friends like Anko and Genma by her side made the loneliness a little more bearable.
The training grounds were bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun when they arrived. The area was mostly empty, save for a few older shinobi wrapping up their own sessions. Rei took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of grass and earth, feeling a surge of anticipation course through her veins.
"Alright," Anko announced, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm, "let's start with some target practice. We'll use kunai, shuriken, and..." she paused, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, "how about we throw in some senbon for an extra challenge?"
Genma raised an eyebrow, twirling a senbon between his fingers. "You sure about that, Anko? These aren't exactly beginner-friendly."
"That's the point!" Anko replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We're not beginners anymore, are we?"
Rei felt a familiar recklessness stir within her. After her earlier mishap at the Academy, she was itching to prove herself. "I'm in," she declared, her voice firm with determination.
They set up the targets, placing them at varying distances and angles. As they began their practice, Rei found herself hyper-focused, determined to hit each mark with precision.
As the session progressed, their friendly competition intensified. Anko whooped with joy each time she hit a bullseye, while Genma maintained his usual calm demeanor, though the slight quirk of his lips betrayed his satisfaction with particularly good throws.
Rei, however, grew increasingly frustrated. Despite her best efforts, her aim seemed off, her usually precise movements just a fraction too wide or too narrow. The memory of her earlier failure at the Academy gnawed at her, fueling her determination to succeed now.
"Come on, Rei," she muttered to herself, gripping another senbon tightly. "Focus!"
She drew her arm back, channeling all her concentration into this one throw. As she released the senbon, she knew immediately that something was wrong. Her foot had slipped slightly, throwing off her balance and trajectory.
The senbon flew wide, missing the target entirely and embedding itself deep into a nearby tree trunk. Rei stared at it for a moment, her breath coming in short, angry pants.
"Hey, don't sweat it," Genma called out, noticing her frustration. "It happens to everyone."
But Rei wasn't listening. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart, the rush of blood in her ears. Without thinking, she stormed over to the tree, determined to retrieve the errant senbon and try again.
As she reached for the needle-thin weapon, she didn't notice how deeply it had penetrated the wood. She grasped it firmly and yanked, oblivious to the sharp edge slicing into her palm.
"Rei, wait!" Anko's voice called out, a note of alarm evident in her tone. "Be careful, you're—"
But it was too late. Rei had already pulled the senbon free, along with a good portion of her own skin.
Blood welled up immediately, dripping onto the grass below.
Rei stared at her hand, watching the crimson liquid flow freely from the deep gash. She felt nothing, not even a tingle. It was almost fascinating, in a detached sort of way—the stark contrast of red against her pale skin, yet no accompanying sensation.
"Rei!" Anko was at her side in an instant, her earlier playfulness replaced by genuine concern. "You're bleeding! Let me see that!"
As Anko gently took her hand, examining the wound with worry etched across her face, Rei felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion crash over her. Not from pain, but from the frustration, the loneliness, the constant pressure to prove herself—it all came bubbling to the surface.
To her horror, she felt tears begin to prick at the corners of her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to force them back, but it was no use. A single tear escaped, rolling down her cheek as she stood there, bleeding yet unfeeling, vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with physical pain.
Rei quickly wiped away the tear with her uninjured hand, embarrassed by her momentary lapse in control. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
"It's fine," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I can't feel it anyway."
Anko and Genma exchanged worried glances, clearly unsure how to respond to her nonchalance about such a serious injury.
"That doesn't mean it's not dangerous," Genma said, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by genuine concern. "We should get that looked at."
Rei was about to protest when a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"What happened here?"
The three of them turned to see Kakashi standing at the edge of the training ground, his arms crossed and his visible eye narrowed in what could have been concern or annoyance—with Kakashi, it was often hard to tell.
Rei felt a mix of emotions at his sudden appearance—frustration at being caught in a moment of weakness, relief at the prospect of help, and a strange flutter in her chest she couldn't quite identify. She opened her mouth to explain, but Anko beat her to it.
"Training accident," Anko said quickly. "Rei cut her hand pretty bad on a senbon."
Kakashi's gaze shifted to Rei's bleeding hand, his eye widening slightly. Without a word, he strode over, pulling a small medical kit from his pouch.
"Let me see," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As Kakashi began to clean and bandage her wound, Rei found herself studying his face. His movements were precise and gentle, a stark contrast to his usually aloof demeanor. For a moment, she could almost forget the tension that had been building between them since she moved into the Hatake household.
"You need to be more careful," Kakashi said, breaking the silence. "Just because you can't feel pain doesn't mean you're invincible."
Rei felt a flare of defensiveness. "I know that," she snapped. "I don't need you to lecture me."
Kakashi finished wrapping her hand, his eye meeting hers. "Clearly, you do," he said, his voice low. "What if this had been a real mission? What if you'd been poisoned and didn't realize it?"
The weight of his words hit Rei hard. She hadn't thought about it that way. Her recklessness could endanger not just herself, but her teammates as well.
As Kakashi stood up, Rei found herself at a loss for words. The realization of her own vulnerability, coupled with Kakashi's unexpected show of care, left her feeling off-balance.
"Thank you," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kakashi nodded, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "We should head back," he said. "It's getting late."
As they prepared to leave, Rei caught Anko and Genma watching her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. She knew they had questions—about her condition, about her relationship with Kakashi—but she wasn't ready to answer them. Not yet.
The walk back to the Hatake household promised to be an interesting one, filled with unspoken words and growing realizations. Rei couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and Kakashi, but whether it was for better or worse remained to be seen.
The sun was setting as they made their way through the village, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The streets were quieting down, with only a few villagers still out and about, finishing their daily errands. Rei walked beside Kakashi, hyperaware of his presence yet unsure of what to say.
As they turned onto the street leading to the Hatake compound, Kakashi finally broke the silence. "Your form was off today," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "That's why you couldn't hit the targets consistently."
Rei bristled at the critique, her pride stinging. "I was doing fine until—"
"Until you let your frustration take over," Kakashi interrupted, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Emotions cloud judgment. A shinobi needs to maintain control at all times."
Rei clenched her fists, she wanted to argue, to defend herself, but deep down, she knew he was right. Her earlier outburst at the Academy and her recklessness during training were proof of that.
They reached the front door of the Hatake house, and Kakashi paused before opening it. He turned to face Rei, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "If you want," he said, his voice softer than before, "we could work on your technique together. Proper form might help you compensate for... your condition."
Rei's eyes widened in surprise. Was Kakashi actually offering to help her? She studied his face, trying to discern any hidden motives, but found only a genuine, if awkward, attempt at support.
The offer hung in the air between them, heavy with potential. Rei felt a mix of emotions - gratitude, pride, and a lingering sense of vulnerability. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat.
Kakashi, seeming to sense her hesitation, quickly added, "Think about it. No need to decide now." He turned and slid open the door, stepping inside.
Rei followed, the familiar emptiness of the house hitting her anew. The absence of Sakumo and Takeshi seemed more pronounced than ever. As she removed her sandals, her eyes fell on a framed photo on the wall - Sakumo and a young Kakashi, both smiling. It was a stark reminder of how different things were now.
"I'll start on dinner," Kakashi said, breaking into her thoughts. "You should clean up and change that bandage."
Rei nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. As she made her way to her room, she couldn't help but wonder what Takeshi was doing right now. Was he safe? Did he miss her as much as she missed him?
The next two weeks stretched out before her, filled with uncertainty. But as she glanced back at Kakashi's retreating form, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone as she thought.