[General Corps Barracks, Sunagakure, Lands of winds]
The training grounds of the General Corps were alive with the clatter of wooden blades and the sharp sound of kunai embedding into targets. Seok wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched the last of the joint exercise teams disperse. Their squad stood in a loose formation, but the instructors were nodding. They were the only ones in the 17th platoon who had completed the drill without a single misstep. Again.
Yuki adjusted her gloves, her expression one of bored indifference. Around them, other shinobi cast glances, some admiring, others laced with envy. It was hard not to admire them. In two years, their team had completed over a hundred missions without a single failure.
Yuki had earned her chunin rank at twelve, a record that had left her older brother Toyo seething for weeks. And yet, despite her sharp tongue and sharper glares, even the most hardened veterans couldn't deny her skill.
Ryu stretched his arms behind his head. "Another flawless performance. I think we've earned a break. Maybe some ramen"
"Ramen?", a dry, mocking laugh cut through the air. Dosu, a jonin from the Sensu Clan, leaned against a training post, his folding fan idly spinning between his fingers. His team stood behind him. Hana from the Kusarigama Clan had her whip coiled at her hip. Jiro, a civilian fire ninjutsu specialist, had his arms crossed.
Dosu's smirk was all teeth. "You call that training? Your team moves like a bunch of sand slow tortoises"
Yuki's eyes narrowed. "And yet we finish before you do. Every time."
Hana's grip tightened on her whip. "Luck has nothing to do with skill."
Yuki scoffed. "If by skill you mean tripping over your whip, then yes, you're very talented."
Jiro flushed. "At least we don't rely on bloodline crutches"
Yuki's voice was sweet as poison. "Words of someone who would sell his own parents to have one. At least Seok does not complain about his circumstances"
Dosu's fan snapped shut. "You."
Seok stepped forward, his voice calm, cutting through the tension. "If you're so confident, why not put it to the test? Team versus team. First to yield loses"
Dosu's eyes gleamed. A contest. Public. Humiliating. "Fine. But we need a referee. Someone impartial"
As if summoned, a shadow fell over them. Shimazu Chikamatsu, their commander and a jonin of the noble Puppet Clan, stood with his arms crossed. His wooden marionette perched silently on his shoulder. The strings were taut, the craftsmanship exquisite. The marionette was something Ryu immediately set his eye onto. Shimazu was not a stranger, he was a distant cousin.
"I'll oversee", he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "But keep it clean. We're not savages"
Yuki rolled her eyes.
Seok ignored her. His gaze locked on Hana's short sword. They were whip specialist, and he would never dare to ask for it. However, her clan was famous for three things: their weapon mastery and poison. Naturally, they also knew how to craft decent weapons. Her secondary weapon was of much higher quality than the old iron katana Ryu had offered him two years ago. The sleek D-rank blade strapped to her waist was quite attractive: "And to make it interesting, how about a wager? If we win, Hana forfeits her sword"
Hana's hand flew to the hilt. "Nonsense, this was my graduation gift from my father"
"Exactly", Seok said, "Does that mean you are afraid of losing to a bunch of General Corps juniors? You joined the corps four years before us..."
Seok's words had hit the right spot. Everyone knew that Seok, Yuki and Ryu were the part of the younger bunch. Seniors like Dosu, Jito and Hana were shameless to even insult them. However, the rivalry in the 17th platoon was known to all, and Shimazu, as the commander, let it fester, judging it stimulating.
A shinobi should always strive to train and improve his techniques.
Unlike other villages, Sunagakure did not have tremendous resources. But the very lack of resources made the village strong. Lack of water stimulated the Shikabane kekkei gekkai, allowing their heirs to use their own blood as suiton medium. Lack of population led Shamon, the second Kazekage, to create the art of puppetry, allowing to duplicate his armies.
Dosu's face darkened. "Deal. But when we win, you owe us a month's worth of mission rations"
Ryu's stomach growled audibly. "I'd rather lose the sword"
Yuki smirked. "Don't worry Ryu. We won't lose to scums like them"
Shimazu sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose: "May the desert spirits help me. Fine. Tomorrow. Dawn. And no permanent injuries"
He turned to leave but paused, looking back at them: "And if I catch any of you using forbidden techniques, you'll be scrubbing latrines for a month. Understood?"
The teams exchanged glares. Dosu's team was already strategizing, muttering among themselves. Hana was adjusting her grip on her whip, testing the weight. Jiro was cracking his knuckles, his usual calm demeanor replaced by determination.
Yuki stretched, her blood thrumming with anticipation. She loved proving people wrong.
Ryu rubbed his hands together. "So, ramen before or after we humiliate them?"
Seok shook his head, but there was a small smile playing at his lips. "After. We need to keep our strength up"
Yuki scoffed. "You just want an excuse to eat more."
"Can you blame me?" Ryu grinned. "A man needs his energy."
As they walked off the training grounds, the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the sand. The air was filled with the distant sounds of the village preparing for the evening. Somewhere, a merchant was packing up his stall. The scent of grilled meat drifted from a nearby food cart.
Yuki glanced back at Dosu's team. They were still standing there, watching them leave. She could see the fire in their eyes, the determination to prove themselves. It was a look she knew well.
She turned back around, her pace steady. Tomorrow would be interesting. And she intended to make sure they remembered it.