Naruto: Snow Cold

Oh boy, the day has come.

The day I'd been dreading and looking forward to in equal measure: the first day of our second year at the academy.

I'm curious... How much has everyone changed? How much training have they done? Especially the Uchiha kids.

The Uchiha kids... Right, the massacre. It will happen in about four years. Sasuke must be around four now, and it shall take place when he's around eight, if I remember correctly.

The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.

How could it not? Knowing what was coming, knowing that an entire clan—one of the most powerful in Konoha—would be wiped out by two people, in a single night. It was heavy.

Two people.

One of them would be their very own pride, Itachi Uchiha, the monstrous prodigy who carried the hopes of his entire clan on his shoulders. So gifted, that even the Hokage himself acknowledged his brilliance.

And yet, he would be the one to end them all.

The other... Obito Uchiha.

The sick, twisted bastard. Just thinking about his name made my stomach churn.

Obito Uchiha—the one who manipulated the Nine-Tails, the one whose actions cost me someone I cared about deeply. The same person who murdered so many people, even if indirectly. He was the architect of so much pain, chaos, and destruction. His influence spread like a virus, poisoning everything and everyone in his path.

He tore lives apart, not just with his hands, but with his lies. Yes, he was manipulated by Madara, but that didn't excuse him. That doesn't excuse the thousands of lives lost! I don't care if he's doing it because the world wronged him by killing off Rin—everyone has their struggles, their own pain to carry. But instead of fighting through it to prevent it from happening once more, the motherfucker decided to spread that poison to everyone else around him.

I hate him. I really do.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts of Obito out of my mind. The anger, the bitterness—it wasn't helping me. It was just a reminder of how weak I still was. I could hate him all I wanted, but what good would that do if I couldn't even protect those around me?

Focus. You're not strong enough. Yet.

I turned my gaze to the academy in front of me, took a deep breath, centering myself, and let go of the lingering fury. There were still so many things I need to do, so much I needed to learn.

I made my way toward the entrance, each step feeling more purposeful than the last. The familiar scent of the academy greeted me. It was so comforting, and yet scary, because of how much people there was.

The sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting long, golden beams across the spacious courtyard. So much chatter, laughter, and movement. I quickly made my way toward my year group, doing my best not to get lost in the bustling crowd.

Can't believe that I'm still too much of a coward to try and talk with them. Maybe I'd be good friends with the Akimichi boy, given that we both like food, a lot. But... there's always something that holds me back. A lump in my throat that won't let me talk to them.

It's easier to stay silent, easier to observe from the outside. Watching people interact, listening to their laughter and chatter from a distance, but never quite stepping in. It's safe that way. No risks, no awkwardness, no rejection. It's not like I don't want to be part of something. I just... I don't know how.

Maybe this is why I really started learning how to play the guitar. Because I want people to notice me, to know that I exist.

"Welcome once more, students of the academy," a familiar voice echoed across the courtyard, pulling me from my thoughts. It was Hiruzen.

I honestly couldn't care less. It's always Will of Fire this, Will of Fire that. Every year, he probably holds the same speech, just swapping a few words around to make it seem fresh. Unity, bonds, courage, protecting the village—the same recycled themes delivered with unwavering enthusiasm.

Knowing what he truly was like didn't make it any better. As someone who watched the show, the atrocities he allowed to unfold under his leadership were burned into my mind.

The Uchiha Massacre, deemed as "necessary," like there was no other alternative. Orochimaru's experiments, ignored until they were too big to conceal. Danzo's unchecked schemes, manipulating lives in the shadows while Hiruzen turned a blind eye. How many Sharingans were stolen and hoarded by this man? Oh, don't even get me started on Naruto. I really need to go check on the poor guy.

"...each of you has the potential to shape the future of this village," he said, his voice firm and kind. "The bonds you form here, the skills you learn, will be the foundation upon which you stand as shinobi."

Still, I forced myself to at least look interested. Can't afford to appear disrespectful, especially with everyone else listening so intently. Even if the words felt hollow to me, they obviously meant something to them.

Moments later, we were instructed to gather in our respective groups and head to our classrooms. I trailed behind my year group, keeping my distance but staying close enough to not draw attention.

...

As always, I sat next to Sora, and waited for the instructor to arrive. Everyone was just chattering and engaging in gossip, as usual. Some like the Hyuuga duo and the Senjus were quiet, like me, while others were caught up in the excitement of the new year.

I crossed my arms on the bench and rested my head on them, trying to block out the noise around me. It was easier that way—less to focus on, less to think about. 

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I lifted my head slightly, squinting at Sora. His face was blurry at first, but it soon came into focus, his usual friendly expression tinged with concern.

"Hey, you good? You seem kind of out of it today." He asked, practically whispering.

I blinked, trying to gather myself. Right, the world is still moving.

"...Yeah. Just thinking about some stuff. Like what kind of crazy stuff they're gonna teach us. Last year it was multiplications and divisions, who knows what they're gonna make us learn this year? Dividing fractions?"

His lips curled into a sly smile, his head resting against his fist, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I know, right? Everything they've been teaching us till now has been ridiculous. How are seven-year-olds supposed to grasp division? The worst part is that everyone seems to be understanding it perfectly," he whispered into my ear, his tone dripping with mock frustration.

"Yup, it's insane. I swear that if they somehow introduce Calculus, I'm applying for early graduation. I sucked at that, a lot," I muttered, sinking deeper into my arms.

He snorted softly, a hint of pride in his voice. "You know I can just carry you through it. I didn't go to college for no reason."

"Mhm, Mr. 'I almost majored in economics,' did you ever have to struggle when it came to math?"

"Not really, no," he replied casually, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. "Numbers always made sense to me. They follow rules—logical, predictable. Easier than any other subject, actually. I struggled more in stuff like chemistry."

"Chemistry, huh...?" I tilted my head at him, "Not too fond of the periodic table?" Good thing this is the one subject I excelled in.

"It's not just that," he said with a shrug, his smirk turning into a grimace. "It was everything—balancing equations, memorizing reactions, understanding why atoms decide to 'share' electrons sometimes and just steal them other times."

A pause took place, and after a moment, he spoke up again. "How's your progress been with the guitar? Have you memorized the tab I gave you yet?"

I blinked, distracted by the sudden change in topic. "Oh, uh... Yeah, it's been going well. Your pointers were really helpful."

"Nice. In a few days, I'll take your last practical exam, and you'll play one of the hardest songs I know. After that, you're on your own, and you'll have to improve by yourself. I didn't quite expect it, but you're actually improving much faster than I was when I first started."

What?

"Wait, the hell? Already?"

Sora chuckled at my surprised reaction, clearly amused. "Yep, already. You're getting the hang of it far quicker than I thought you would. Maybe you'll become even better than me? It's probably because you have a genuine passion for it."

I blinked again, processing his words. "A-Are you serious? I couldn't possibly become better than you. Let alone—"

"I'm dead serious," he interrupted with a smile, "And besides, it's not like I had a whole curriculum prepared. You just asked me out of nowhere, and I had to improvise."

"...I see. Exactly what are you going to make me play?"

He grinned, almost maliciously. "Just a fun little song. Y'like Touhou?"

My heart sank. He wouldn't, right? "You can't be serious." I muttered, already dreading the answer.

"Oh, but I am. Night of Nights, or Flowering Night, if I'm feeling merciful. You have no idea how much weeks I spent trying to master that stupid, single song."

I stared at him in disbelief, my voice rising slightly. "That song...? Are you trying to shred my fingers off?"

"Mhm, exactly," he nodded and continued, "You're gonna have to put in some real sweat and blood in it."

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples as I considered the challenge. "...Fine," I answered, my voice tinged with resignation. "I'll show you. I'll definitely ace it."

It felt like we spent an eternity talking, but in reality, it had only been around ten minutes. The soft creak of the door opening pulled me from the conversation, and the room immediately fell quiet. All eyes turned toward the front as the new instructor walked in, their presence commanding the room.

Oooh boy.