White Noise: Pre-Genin
White Noise
Challenge: Pre-Genin
204 words
PG
Summary: Lots of tiny dots make up a bigger picture. Homicidal maniacs, and trying not to give away the character.
“You need to practice,” his father says. “If you want to be like them.”
He doesn’t answer, respond (What if he’s stupid? Weak? Maybe it’s just a rebellious streak, a phase kids go through) and watches the older boys launch through their katas, weapons drills, sparring.
“Those are kunai,” his mother speaks slowly, rolling the vowels as if speaking to a baby, or idiot. “Would you like to hold one?”
He doesn’t respond to her noise. His eyes are vacant, fixed.
Sweat jumps off the genins’ skin as their muscles snap, contract. Blood spurts in thick rivers near a vital point, drips in watery globules from a slight gash.
Small differences. Big picture. He sees it.
Almost. Almost.
Light bounces off every molecule in every blade of grass differently, gets caught inside genjutsu illusions (a flaw, small fatal flaw) and refracts strangely, shimmers just a second on the chakra-fueled ninjutsus and he sees every pixel of color and energy and almost-
“Itachi you can’t just sit there all day.” His father. “I don’t know if it’s stupidity or laziness but-”
He stops listening. He has no patience for the limited vision of others.
The big picture. Almost. Almost.
He wants to scream.
Again.
Challenge: Pre-Genin
204 words
PG
Summary: Lots of tiny dots make up a bigger picture. Homicidal maniacs, and trying not to give away the character.
“You need to practice,” his father says. “If you want to be like them.”
He doesn’t answer, respond (What if he’s stupid? Weak? Maybe it’s just a rebellious streak, a phase kids go through) and watches the older boys launch through their katas, weapons drills, sparring.
“Those are kunai,” his mother speaks slowly, rolling the vowels as if speaking to a baby, or idiot. “Would you like to hold one?”
He doesn’t respond to her noise. His eyes are vacant, fixed.
Sweat jumps off the genins’ skin as their muscles snap, contract. Blood spurts in thick rivers near a vital point, drips in watery globules from a slight gash.
Small differences. Big picture. He sees it.
Almost. Almost.
Light bounces off every molecule in every blade of grass differently, gets caught inside genjutsu illusions (a flaw, small fatal flaw) and refracts strangely, shimmers just a second on the chakra-fueled ninjutsus and he sees every pixel of color and energy and almost-
“Itachi you can’t just sit there all day.” His father. “I don’t know if it’s stupidity or laziness but-”
He stops listening. He has no patience for the limited vision of others.
The big picture. Almost. Almost.
He wants to scream.
Again.