7: Friction

The second practice field.

Students clustered in two loose groups — boys on one side, girls on the other — while Iruka stood apart with his roster.

“Next up,” Iruka called. “Shin Takami.”

Shin stepped out of line. He stopped ten meters from the target, two shuriken pinched between the fingers of each hand.

He dropped into a slight crouch. Arms crossed. Then, in a single motion, he released.

Thwack.

All four shuriken hit in a clean vertical line.

“Good,” Iruka said, smiling. “You’ve improved fast.”

Shin dipped his head and returned to his spot without a word.

“Sasuke Uchiha.”

A certain someone with a small fan crest on his back pulled his hands from his pockets and walked out. He stopped a step farther back than Shin had.

He drew six shuriken — three in each hand.

Of course. Shin watched without expression. The message was obvious.

“Sasuke, go for it!”

“Sasuke-kun, you’re the best!”

“He’s so cool—”

“Tch.” Kiba crossed his arms beside Shin, clearly unimpressed.

Sasuke threw. The six shuriken cut through the air in a neat arc and embedded in the wooden target in a perfect ring.

Show-off. Shin kept the thought behind his eyes. His own shuriken accuracy was among the best in class — but not that.

“Sasuke-kun—!”

The fan club erupted. Sasuke turned back, face blank as ever, and walked past Shin. He flicked a sideways glance at him as he went.

Shin said nothing.

“Next. Naruto Uzumaki.”

“Here!” Naruto’s arm shot up and he bounded forward.

“Again?” Kiba muttered. “I already know how this ends.”

“Same,” Shino said.

“Naruto.” Iruka’s voice cut across the field before Naruto could raise his arm to throw. “Focus. If you pull the same stunt you always do, I won’t let it slide.”

Naruto’s arm dropped. “…Got it.”

The energy went out of him. He set his stance, threw, and — honestly — both shuriken caught the very edge of the target. Barely passing.

Naruto’s face fell when he saw the result.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Iruka glanced at the target and made a mark in the roster. “Back in line.”

“Tch.” Naruto turned and shuffled back.

“That’s it for this morning’s assessment.” Iruka snapped the roster shut. “Everyone who didn’t meet the standard will be doing supplemental training.”

Groans rippled through the class.

“Shuriken is the baseline of shinobi combat,” Iruka said, not particularly bothered by the noise. “If you can’t master the basics, you might want to reconsider a career change now, while it’s still an option.”

“Morning session is over. Report to the first practice field this afternoon for taijutsu sparring.”

“Dismissed.”

He vanished in a Body Flicker. The students scattered in his wake, a low undercurrent of grumbling filling the air.

Naruto appeared at Shin’s shoulder. “Man, what’s Iruka-sensei’s problem today?”

“He’s looking out for you,” Shin said. “Shinobi go into real fights eventually. If you haven’t learned the fundamentals by then, you’re not going to last.”

Naruto pursed his lips. Hard to tell if it landed.

“You’ll get there,” Shin added. “Just practice.”

“Honestly,” Kiba cut in, “only an idiot stays this bad this long. Me and Shin and Shino don’t have anything to worry about.” He glanced down. “Right, Akamaru?”

“Woof!“

Naruto’s face went red. “What did you just say?!”

“Am I wrong?” Kiba shrugged. “Akamaru could probably pass the test at this point.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Woof!“

“That’s it — I’m gonna flatten you!”

“Okay, enough.” Shin stepped between them, one hand catching Naruto’s arm. He gave Kiba a flat look. “Don’t say that.”

“Naruto.” He turned. “Let it go. Kiba’s being an idiot.”

Naruto’s arm slowly lowered. The color in his face faded from red to a dull irritation.

“If you weren’t holding me back,” he muttered, “he’d already have a black eye.”

“Sure he would.” Kiba laughed.

“Both of you.” Shin rubbed his temple. “It’s lunch.”

He nudged Kiba’s shoulder, steering him away, and glanced back.

“Naruto?”

Naruto looked at Kiba, then at Shino — who had, as usual, said almost nothing — then at Shin.

“I’m good,” he said. “I’ll eat by myself.”

“Alright.”

……

Shin turned and walked. Shino fell into step behind him, and Kiba trailed alongside.

After a moment, Shino spoke. “You’re very protective of Naruto Uzumaki.”

“Yeah,” Kiba said, still a little heated. “What’s the point? He’s just a dead weight.”

Shin exhaled quietly.

“He doesn’t have any friends. Everyone in class freezes him out.” He watched the path ahead. “It’s not hard to understand why. Kiba — stop picking on him.”

“He starts it.”

“I’ll tell your mom.”

Kiba’s foot caught the ground. He nearly tripped. “Shin — you wouldn’t—”

Shin glanced at him.

“…Fine.” Kiba scowled, looking away. “Fine, whatever. I’ll leave him alone.”

Shin’s mouth curved slightly.

“Good boy.”

“Don’t say it like Hana says it, that’s creepy—”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Shino, two steps behind them, lowered his face into the collar of his coat to hide the smile.

“You laughed!” Kiba pointed at him.

“I didn’t,” Shino said.

“You absolutely did — what is wrong with both of you—”

The first practice field. Afternoon.

“Now we’re testing taijutsu,” Iruka said, roster in hand. “I’ve paired each of you with a partner. Anyone who doesn’t meet the standard gets penalized — this weekend, you’re staying here to train. I’ll be with you.”

Scattered groans. A few tense faces.

Naruto didn’t look great. Whatever had happened at lunch had stuck with him — he was standing apart from the others, hands in his pockets, eyes moving restlessly across the field. He spotted Shin and the tight set of his shoulders eased, just a little. Shin gave him a small nod.

Naruto’s mouth tugged into a grin — the kind that showed too many teeth and meant I’m fine, don’t worry.