“So what exactly is our jounin-sensei’s test? Who is our jounin-sensei, anyway?” Konran asked, matching pace with their longer strides despite shorter legs as the three of them left the Academy building.
As far as Ringo was concerned, Konran was okay. A little weird, a little quiet, and just plain little, but okay. He and Zakuro could have been assigned worse, truth be told. Like that Hyuuga with a stick up his ass–well, all of the Hyuuga had sticks up their asses, but Hyuuga Shikai was an especially snobby piece of shit–or Yamanaka Shigo who lorded his second degree relation to the Yamanaka clan head as if it were a personal triumph.
Or even Inuzuka Mimi who once threatened to castrate Zakuro with a rusty senbon –though, he did kind of deserve it considering he did shave a stripe of fur off her dog partner, Dangan–and had held a grudge against the two of them (Ringo for not preventing it) ever since.
Well, actually, they ended up on the same team. Which wasn’t surprising, considering all three of them were from big name clans; Probably the shoo-in team for their year.
But he’d enjoy being Team Five with his best friend and Konran for however long it lasted.
“That’s the test,” he said, watching but not interfering as Zakuro circled back behind Konran, “We have to figure out who our jounin-sensei is, then we have to find him, then… well. There might be more after that.”
Without looking, Konran ducked Zakuro’s grab at the hood, but didn’t bother to dodge the friendly shoulder nudge that nearly sent the smaller ninja sprawling.
“Hence the walk to the Administrative Building,” he continued, then reached out and flicked Zakuro’s ear, “Hey asshole, quit antagonizing our teammate.”
“Fuck off, Ringo,” he responded amiably, stretching an arm companionably around said teammate’s shoulders, the height difference forcing him to slouch significantly to do so, “Konran knows I’m just playing.”
Ringo knew that, but they had only just met the kid–Konran might not know that.
Rather than shrugging off the arm, Konran jabbed an elbow into Zakuro’s ribs, taking advantage the height difference, then said, “As if this guy could get my hood off, anyway.”
Zakuro grunted at the pain, but was only mildly offended, “You little shit. Challenge accepted.”
As they neared the Admin Building, the air of playful roughhousing dissipated in the face of all the productivity. They had a mission to do, too, one which decided their future.
A/N: I was going to continue but… meh? Maybe tomorrow.
Direct sequel to this Counterpoise drabble from yesterday.