The weekend passed in a flash as Sano continued her daily routine: Wake up, library, train, practice, rinse and repeat. Jiraya had made her several Chakra Seals ranging from 10% to 95% in intervals of 5’s. She’d been wearing the 10% seal ever since it’d been made, using it for practice as she trained.
The 10% seal made her weaker in terms of chakra, but she was still solidly super-human in terms of Earth standards at the physical level. Her already sub-par jutsus learned at the Academy; the Clone, Substitution, and Transformation, were even shoddier with the weakest of seals on, but they did work. It took extra care and precision only to have them end up sucking just like before, but that is what the training is for. She didn’t care if she sucked for the entire time in the academy, as long as the long-term results paid off.
Speaking of which… Jiraya had shown her something that he probably shouldn't have. When their lessons had ended on Friday, he vanished in a puff of smoke. On Saturday, she had asked how he remembered their lessons and interacted with objects if he was using a clone. In the Academy, it had been common, ruthlessly ingrained, knowledge to everyone that their clones would not share senses or information with the original. She never questioned it then, as it was a very beginner friendly jutsu for children… but how did Jiraya remember all of their time together if his clone was the one teaching her?
As it turned out, he wasn’t using the Bunshin-No-Jutsu, or Clone Jutsu. He was using the Kage-Bunshin-No-Jutsu—The Shadow Clone Jutsu—and his clones were ‘real’. Real as in, the clone would copy him exactly, remember what it did, give the information back to the original when it was poofed, and copy everything he had on him, from seals, to tools, to injuries. It even had its own Chakra supply!
She wanted it.
The amount of shenanigans the Shadow Clone Jutsu could do was absurd. You could train in two places at once and recall all of the information the clone learned. The clone could and would act like you exactly to blend in, because it was you, just a ‘real’ clone. It could use its chakra supply to use jutsu and create seals… It had literally limitless potential. You needed help to climb or a second pair of hands for a task? A normal clone couldn’t do that. At least, not the one they learned in the Academy. The Academy Clone jutsu didn’t create a solid manifestation of a person, only the illusion of a person. It was a trash manifestation of a mind trick compared to the absurdly overpowered Shadow Clone Jutsu.
And she couldn’t have it.
Jiraya had cringed when she had noticed the discrepancy, complaining and groaning about how Tsunade was going to be furious that he wasn’t actually there to teach her and how he’d been using a clone. And of course, she would be, because she was going to find out when Sano bitched and complained to everyone and everything that could see and understand her hand signs about the jutsu until she got to learn it. It was that OP.
Jiraya had said learning the Kage-Bunshin-No-jutsu was out of the question, but he said a lot of things that weren’t true. She was going to believe that this was one of those things until someone said otherwise.
It was early in the morning on Monday as she walked through the village before school. She had a place she wanted to finally visit and someone to talk to. The Aburame Clan compound was on the east side of the village. It was on the complete opposite side of where she lived, and she assumed that was because the ‘hive’ of insects the Aburame used didn’t like her being around. Her Uncle Jogan said she could visit for short spans of time and that she’d always be welcome, but this would be the first test to see if that rang true. Nobody else from the Aburame had visited her at all, and that felt off. Even if she didn’t have many friends or family… she was still part of their clan, right? She was bound to have some cousins or grandparents? Surely?
The morning streets of Konoha were peaceful and calm, but many people walked along or operated their shops before dawn. The village was lively at all times of day and night. Several other clan compounds were situated on the east side of the village as well. She’d passed the Yamanaka compound already; a large walled fortified section of the village. To her, it looked like a small village inside the greater village—Like one of those old russian dolls.
When she arrived at where Jogan had said their clan compound was, she found a much smaller compound. Over the stone walls, she made out a handful of ornate Japanese styled buildings, made of wood with clay shingles layered on top. The two guards stationed near the entrance watched her approach.
‘Hello.’ She signed, and immediately one of them drew recognition. He was on the younger side, in his mid teens with spiky black hair and what she was now calling the typical Aburame fashion; a tall collared trenchcoat and goggles on his head.
“Sano?” The one who had recognised her immediately asked, the other realized who she was when her name had been spoken. “Are you here to see Jogan?”
It was a good thing they knew who she was, as it saved her a lot of time. ‘Yes. Can I go inside?’
The guards shared a look, as if asking each other for permission. “Wait here for a moment. I will see if someone can show you the way.”
She looked beyond the gate and saw that the compound was indeed small. It looked hard to get lost in, but knowing the way to Jogan’s home would be ideal. As the silent guard entered the gate to find someone to show her around, Sano got the feeling that she was… other. She was and she wasn’t an Aburame. They would let her inside, but it seemed that they were unsure of if she should be. It didn’t bother her much, but it would probably tear apart old-Sano if she existed.
Around thirty seconds of awkward silence passed before the guard returned with Jogan himself. Either they moved swiftly—which wasn’t out of the question, as ninja were fast—or Jogan’s home was near the entrance. The guard opened the gate and Jogan gestured for her to come to him, which she did. The inside of the compound wasn’t much different than the outside’s appearance. It was fairly underwhelming. Not many people were up and about either. It was quiet.
“Good Morning, Sano.” Her uncle greeted as she crossed the gate, hearing the metal and wood clasp close behind her. “I didn’t expect you to visit.” It was a question, but filled with affection at the same time—a pleasant surprise for him.
‘I have questions.’ She signed. ‘I also wanted to see the clan compound.’
“That’s expected. You have school soon, though. We must make it brief.” Jogan proceeded to lead her about with a hand on her shoulder. It seemed like a very common thing here, but maybe she just forgot that it was typical to lead children around like that? She wasn’t sure, but she was sure that the excuse for school was just that—an excuse. It seemed she overestimated how long she could stay in the compound. Jogan had tried to make it seem like it was because of school, but her surprise visit probably caused some troubles with the Hive.
Nonetheless, she was unbothered and had questions to ask. ‘Can I learn the Shadow Clone Jutsu? Can you teach me?’
Jogan surprisingly smiled. She’d gotten really good at reading his expression under his collar. “Ahh, back on this are we?” He gave her shoulder a fond squeeze. “Back before your injury, you bothered my brother about learning it all the time.”
Old-Sano had good taste then. It was the most valuable Jutsu she’d seen and/or heard of to date. ‘Jiraya has been teaching me.’ She signed. Seeing Jogan nod and sensing the continuation, she signed again, ‘He was using Shadow Clones to do it.’
At that, his fond squeeze turned into a squeeze of agitation. “Did he now?”
Jiraya was in trouble. Even an eight year old could hear it from the tone. ‘I want to use a Shadow Clone to safely make Explosion Tags without…’ She paused as didn’t know the sign for supervision. ‘Mentor’.
“It’s not a matter of if you can learn it, it’s a matter of if you can use it safely. I know you’ve looked into it.” She simply smiled with her orange eyes in response. It was obvious that she did. “It’s a dangerous jutsu because in order to summon a clone, you must split your chakra in half to give it to your clone. If you make a mistake, such as giving it too much or all of your chakra, you can very easily kill yourself.”
‘I am training in chakra control.’ She signed quickly. ‘I’ve been—’ She stopped signing, but Jogan had seen her hands and had the sense of an adult. The adult sense of knowing a child was doing something they shouldn’t be.
“What have you been doing, Sano?” He asked calmly, which would have been accepted by an eight year old Sano, but she was mentally twenty-two. She knew better. ‘Nothing.’
“Mmmm.” Jogan hummed, deciding if he should pry. Thankfully, he did not. “There’s been talks of making it a forbidden jutsu now that the war is over. It is restricted for now.”
That was dire news for her training if so. ‘Then I need to learn it as soon as possible.’
Jogan shook his head, crushing her dreams. “No. Not until you prove yourself capable. Being able to water-walk or tree-walk is nothing special, Sano. All Genin must be able to do both of those. Take your time, you will grow.”
‘I won’t have time. It’s going away.’ She signed quickly, but Jogan once again shook his head.
“I don’t think it will be forbidden. Its derivative will, that is certain, but not the base jutsu.”
Oh, how she wished she knew the sign for derivatives. She’d be speed running these questions.
As she thought about how to prove herself responsible for the jutsu, Jogan showed her several buildings around the compound. Most of them were homes or storage areas, but there was a single building which housed their clan’s matriarch—Shikuro Aburame. They were very distantly related, apparently, but not enough to matter in this day and age.
One thing she noted as they walked and chatted about her training, was that there weren’t a lot of people about. While early, there should have been more than the scant few people she’d seen. ‘Where is everyone?’ She asked.
Jogan’s hand, which had never left her shoulder, stilled for only a single moment. She noticed it. “We lost a lot in the war, Sano. More than the others.”
‘How? Why?’ While insensitive, she thought she deserved to know.
“Specialty poison—Poison designed to target our insects and their hosts.” He turned them around and they began to walk from where they came. "No matter what you hear people say about us, we are a strong clan. Do not pretend you haven’t heard what others say, because I know you have.”
She remembered the civilians when she went shopping and herself when she first woke up. Even some of her classmates… Everyone talked about the insects and how the Aburame were crazy and infected. She didn’t really blame them for that. The clan was different, to put it kindly.
“We are strong both with bonds and our actions. We are deadly for assassinations, excellent at scouting, and a terror on a battlefield.” Jogan’s eyes were pained as he spoke, but he carried on. “There aren’t many of us left. Only around a hundred.”
That… wasn’t good.
As she digested the news, she asked a question without really thinking it through. In hindsight, it was terrible of her to say… but it came out through her hands anyways. ‘Why are you saying we?’
Deep down—No, that was a lie. On the surface, she didn’t really feel like she belonged in the Aburame Clan. It didn’t hurt her feelings at all, but there were signs. She didn’t know them at all. Not really. She didn’t have their insects. She didn’t know their jutsus. Hell, nobody but her uncle had even spoken to her before today, and she was the one who spoke to the guards outside first.
Jogan gracefully slid in front of her, the hem of his trenchcoat flapping as he knelt down to her level. His other hand softly landed on her other shoulder as he gave her his full, undivided attention. His collar slipped open, whether by will or happenstance, letting her see his mouth as he spoke. “I said we, because you are still an Aburame. I know you don’t remember running around the compound, but you did. I know you don’t remember having your Kikaichu, but you had them. I know we don’t… share emotions well, but you are and will always be an Aburame. Your success is our success—no matter how it is achieved. My success is your success, forever and always. This clan is yours, and you are the clan.”
He took a breath and stared into her bright orange eyes with all the seriousness he could provide. “You are unique in more ways than one. Your path will and already has differed from many, but at the end of every single day, you are an Aburame. Host or not. The hive is not what defines us.”
It was clear that Jogan found this a very important topic, one he wanted to set in stone here and now. While comforting, she didn’t really care all too much about it. Maybe if she understood more, her perspective would change alongside it. For now, it was just… awkward. She nodded to show she understood, but Jogan searched her eyes for a moment longer. He didn’t find what he wanted, judging by his slight frown. He stood smoothly and gestured off to where the gate was. “You have school soon. It’s best we get going.”
The walk back was quiet. Jogan didn’t speak any further about the clan or ask how her training was going. He looked as if he had many other thoughts going through his mind, and his day had only just begun. As they approached the gate and the guards opened it, Sano threw him a quick sign. ‘Thank you.’
She ran off down the street towards the academy and Jogan watched her leave until she was around the bend.
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For some reason, all of the girls were called away at the end of their daily jutsu lessons, right when she was going to take a free-period. The other girls seemed to know what this ‘surprise’ class was about, but Sano was confused by the sudden change. Their daily lessons were structured to flow in the same way everyday. This ‘surprise’ wasn’t in the schedule.
An attractive brown haired Kunoichi led them away down the halls towards an empty room and didn’t mind the chatting from the others. Nobody talked to her, of course. She hadn’t made any female friends yet. She really only had one true friend, Murakuma Kurama, as he was the only one who attempted to speak with her at any meaningful level. They got along well enough—or as well as they could, given her circumstances. The pudgy boy, named Joji Akimichi, who sat next to her during their normal lessons was friendly enough, but they hadn’t really spoken to each other. He wouldn’t count.
The Kunoichi slid open the door to their new classroom and watched them all with a serene gaze as they entered. The woman frowned minutely when Sano passed, eyes drawn to the form-fitting mask she wore everyday and trench-coat. She probably had bad relations with the Aburame clan, if Sano had to guess.
The inside of the classroom was nearly identical to their last, but vases, pots, and flowers were arrayed on the long desks. Makeup and perfume bottles were set up on the teachers podium, ready for a lesson of some sort. All the other girls quickly took their seats and entered into their cliques, so she just took a random seat in the middle of them all, but by herself.
That didn’t go unnoticed by their teacher.
“We’ll be picking up from where we left off last time.” The kunoichi said, garnering everyone's attention.” Her eyes landed on Sano, singling her out. “It seems we have a new student? Why don’t you introduce yourself.”
At first, she looked around for some help. The other girls knew she wasn’t able to talk, and she doubted that this woman wanted her to use her keyring and their cards. Nobody spoke up to help her, so she simply signed, hoping that the women knew the language. ‘I can’t speak. War Injury.’
The woman just stared at her for a bit, but not rudely. It was more like a short circuit of her faculties. “I see… I think you may take this class as a free period then. I don’t think you’ll be suited to what I teach.”
Awkwardly, Sano pulled back her chair, the scraping of the wood boomed much too loudly in the quiet and awkward room. She collected her scroll and ink that she’d placed down, readying to learn. Before she actually left, she signed a question. ‘What do you teach?’
With a bland look and an answer that came way too quickly to not be somewhat suspicious, the kunoichi answered. “Interpersonal Strategy.”
Yeah, that didn’t sound too useful for her, but she had to ask just to make sure that she wasn’t being discriminated against in some weird clan way. Seeing as she wasn’t, then her normal free period was up for grabs! With a nod, Sano hurried down the stairs and made her exit, under the many eyes of her peers.
—---------------------------------------------------------
After getting her ass beat at the end of the day’s sparring sessions due to her suppression seal not letting her cast the Paralysis Genjutsu, Sano was leaving the academy, thinking about what her afternoon would entail. She could go training in her normal spot with her new fancy suppression seals or work on some seals of her own. Both were important to her progression and power…
“Yo,” a gravely, mildly annoyed voice said, right behind her. “You Sano? Sano Aburame?”
Turning around to the spot she was sure nobody was in five seconds ago, she spotted an older man in his forties. Life hadn’t been kind to this man either. The ninja—judging by his standard Konoha flak jacket attire—had a peg leg and was missing an arm. His shirt was tightly tied off in an enormous knit at the elbow, keeping the empty sleeve from billowing in the faint breeze. She looked around, making sure he wasn’t some sort of depraved individual stealing kids from the school…
“Oi…” The man said flatly, picking up on her intentions. “Jiraya said you can make explosion seals. That true?”
Hearing Jiraya’s name would send most people at ease, but her temporary teacher wasn’t the best judge of character… or character himself. ‘Yes. Who are you?’ She signed.
“Koji, from the Logistical Supply Corp. You’re technically still a Genin, right?” Koji asked. The man was gruff and was obviously growing aggravated at having to be here at all. He fidgeted on his peg leg. The thing must have bothered him greatly.
But he was also a dick. She could tell.
‘Yes?’ She signed back.
Instantly, the guy nodded, achieving whatever his goal was. “You’re being requisitioned to help make explosive tags to shore up supplies. Jiraya suggested you help out. You’ll get pay and a half until we’re all set. Should take a week if we work hard. Report at the northern supply depot in an hour. Understood?”
Uhh… She blinked owlishly at Koji, unsure if this was all legal. She was technically still a Genin, a member of the military of sorts, but an hour to double check if things were kosher wasn’t ideal. It would make sense if higher-ups could sequester personnel for help…
And if what he was saying was true, and Jiraya had suggested it…
That meant that his week of teaching her would be taken up by the work…
I guess he really didn’t want to teach me…
She nodded and threw him a thumbs up, her mask hiding her frown. He returned her nod, then poofed into a cloud of chakra smoke. The man had been a clone.
Without wasting any time, she rushed off towards her apartment and dropped off her notebooks and other school supplies. She even fashioned herself a meal for dinner and placed her bento-box into her bag along with her non-school notebooks she had on seals and explosions tags she and Jiraya had made.
Without knowing exactly where the northern supply depot was, Sano left early to find it. None of the civilians knew where it’d be. So, asking a stranger was out of the question. It also didn’t help that most normal people assumed she had bugs under her skin—real ones, not the meth kind—so they did their best to ignore her hustling. Thankfully, after sticking her head into one too many locations to bother people, she found the supply depot.
The Northern Supply Depot didn’t look special at all. Just like the buildings beside it and those across the street, the depot was a tan plastered building with ruddy brown clay tiles making up the roof. The main entryway differed greatly, though. The entrance was an enormous garage door made of thickly carved wood which dangled from mechanical bearings at the top, causing the doors to gently sway as the wind brushed up against it. Outside, Koji was sat in a chair. His eyes landed on her as soon as she turned off the street.
“You’re late. Come” Koji ordered as she stood, face grimacing at standing on the wooden peg he had for a leg.
With the alacrity of a ninja, Koji strode toward the massive hanging door and shoved it aside a few feet to let himself in. All previous grievances with his leg were forgotten as he got to work. Sano shuffled inside before Koji closed the door behind them, and she finally got a good look inside.
Inside the depot, a dozen or so ninja were hard at work. Closest to the door, a pair of teens were heating and checking on a furnace, while another much older man pulled out a superheated ingot of reddened metal to work on the nearby anvil. Down from that group, another two teens were sat at tables, sharpening kunai and shuriken on blocks of stone. One of them seemed satisfied with his work, and moved to a different block to begin sharpening his kunai on that one instead.
“Okay, kid. Listen up.” Koji started speaking, jolting her from her inspection. “All you’ll be doing here is making explosive tags. If anyone else asks you to help with their work, you tell them to fuck off or come and get me. If anyone else tried to pawn their work off on you, you tell them to fuck off and come get me. Basically, if anyone does anything to stop you from making tags—come get me.” He flicked his gaze to her just to make sure she was listening before starting again. “You’re getting paid more than them because you don’t work here. Do not waste our money by leaving and doing other shit or helping people with their shit. Got it?”
She nodded, seeing as he was still looking at her.
“Good,” he turned and gestured to a small empty workstation with stacks of paper and ink. “How long does it take you to make one tag?”
She glanced at the stack of paper and the cutter used in offices on Earth to sheer large amounts of pages and did some mental math. If all the ink was chakra infused ink, then she could sit here for months before she ran out of materials. ‘Five minutes’ She signed.
“Make one under my supervision. Once I can see that you got this, then I’ll leave you to work.” He pointed to a door at the end of the giant garage. “If you ever feel that you’re unsure about a tag, set it aside and we will test a few of that stack at the end of the day back there in the safe-room.”
Koji slammed himself into a nearby chair and looked at her expectantly. Seeing as it was time to show her skills, even though she had only ever made a single tag in the past, she sat down at the workstation and pulled her notebooks out of her bag. She plonked the notebook with her sketch against the wall where the workstation met it, and studied the explosive tag sketch there for a little refresher.
After a minute of study, she grabbed a nearby brush, dabbed it into the ink, grabbed a piece of paper, cut it to size, then hunched down and got to work.
The brush she was using was not dissimilar to that of a fine paintbrush used for detailing work. It’s sharp point when wet was still firm enough to apply pressure and was soaked up enough ink for a good bit of drawing. Because explosive tags were so small, about the size of a business card, larger brushes weren’t suited to the work.
The first part of the explosive tag was the base or foundation, which she directly copied from the standardized sketch in her notebook—a rectangle. This was the equivalent of the outline of her sketch. For an explosive tag, this meant that no additions to the seal would escape the boundary. You could make even smaller tags if you could fit everything within the enclosed boundary, but for normal work the standard size would be fine and even preferred.
Next, came the self-failing sequence of destruction. The ink itself held the chakra needed to power the tag, so nothing like a power supply would be needed for a tag this small. From six directions, what amounted to scratchy or childish ink drawings were brushed onto the tag, pointing toward the center. These were the six cascading errors which would accumulate at the center whirlpool—or activation trigger.
Her hand was steady as she worked her chakra into the ink, making sure her focus or input didn’t waver at all. If she lost concentration, the tag would be a dud.
After a flourishing swipe, finishing the whirlpool, she grabbed a separate brush and a small glass jar or normal ink. With the graceful handwriting of a mute person who often relies on writing to speak, she wrote out the kanji for explode/bomb on top of the whirlpool. ‘Baku’
She wiped her brow with the long sleeve of her trenchcoat then held out the tag for Koji to inspect. The man took the offered tag without fear and gave it a once over. “We’ll test your first one to make sure, but it looks good to me. Come.”
Koji led her to the door previously mentioned for the safe room. Inside, a slight ramp took them underground. The room was just four blackened soot coated walls and a thick rock safety wall to hide behind. The wall was slightly too tall for her to peer over after leveling off from the entry ramp, with her being eight and all that, but with a hop she grabbed the ledge and peered over.
Koji stepped to the side, picking up a stone from a pile hidden by the entryway. He slapped the tag onto it, applying a very delicate amount of chakra to cause it to stick, then tossed the rock over the safety wall without a word. Instantly, Sano let go of the wall and assumed the fetal position, hands covering her ears as she clenched her eyes closed.
The resounding boom and reverberating vibrations from being underground not five seconds later announced her success. Opening her eyes, she noticed that Koji didn’t even bother covering his ears and just peeked over the wall in a slight crouch which must have been painful with a peg leg.
“Good.” Koji even sounded approving for once. “Your shift ends in six hours. Get to work.”