Sunsets on the Rising Moon

The tiles of the Academy roof were warm beneath Suzaku’s back, the heat stored from a cloudless afternoon now slowly bleeding into the evening air. He lay there with his hands folded behind his head, a pair of shades protects his eyes from the blinding glare of the setting sun. From this height you could truly behold the treasure that is the Hidden Moon Village, as the pale stone walkways spread out between the curved ornate rooftops and underneath the rows of strung up red lanterns you could see its streets bustling with more foot traffic then usual.

They were arriving in waves.

Youngins, some wide-eyed, some scowling, some trying very hard not to look impressed, followed their escorts through the gates that open toward the harbor district. Foreign fabrics and unique features made the newcomers pretty easy to spot within the crowds. A boy who looks closer to an oni, sporting red horns and a cyclops eye, happily observes his new surroundings. A girl with snow white hair and skin with piercing eyes just as cold, follows silently behind her parents. A girl who appears to have a monkey tail is gobbling down her plate at the dumpling house. A thin child with shabby clothes stops every few paces to admire the village’s hanging wind chimes, whenever he pauses rats start to spill out of his clothes to enjoy the melody.

“Quite the crop we got this year,” Suzaku murmured to himself.

A breeze tugged at his open collar. He smelled the salt from the distant sea and the sweet smoke of festival grills being prepared for the welcoming ceremony. The village elders were calling it a new era, alliances deepening, shared training, the exchange of techniques and culture.

To Suzaku, it meant something simpler.

Kids who just need a place to belong.

He shifted, peeking past his shoulder as another group entered through the gate. One of the other boys lags behind, covered in scrapes and scars and clutching a travel-worn pack with both hands. As the other kids surge ahead, he stops just inside the archway, frozen like a deer caught in a clearing.

Suzaku’s heart tightened with a familiar recollection.

Years ago he had stood at those same gates, bruised knuckles, a temper like wildfire, convinced the village had only taken him in because no one else would. A problem child. A thief. A boy who’d fight more than he’d speak.

And then there had been an instructor who saw him, not as trouble, but as someone who just needed a guiding hand.

Suzaku closed his eyes, smiling faintly at the memory.

“Guess it’s my turn now, huh Sensei?”

Below, a group of Academy instructors walk out from the school, pointing at scrolls and arguing about seating arrangements as they head towards the welcoming ceremony. Dogen-Sensei was already complaining about class curriculum while Myorin-Sensei was worrying about differing stamina levels and physical aptitudes.

Suzaku yawns and stretches like a cat before getting up.

“They’ll be fine,” he said to the sky. “I'll be looking out for 'em after all. So just you wait, Sensei! Before long I'll be just as great a teacher you were, I promise”.

The next morning comes as the Sun rises over the distant ocean, the gleaming light on the sea reflects onto the polished crescent-shaped rooftops of the Hidden Moon.

Suzaku arrives late to class.

Not truly late, just late enough to make an entrance.

The classroom doors slid open as a murmur of unfamiliar voices filled the hall. Nearly 20 kids turn toward him in a wave of curiosity and skepticism. Differing heights, clothes, and expressions, but all waiting with anticipation as their instructor entered the room.

Suzaku lifted a hand in lazy greeting. “Yo!”

Silence.

He stepped inside, sandals scuffing softly on the wooden floor, and dropped a stack of blank notebooks onto the desk with a thump.

“I’m Suzaku-Sensei. Your homeroom teacher. I like long naps, takoyaki, and students who don’t blow up my classroom.” He paused, glancing around. “So let’s try to keep that last one to a minimum.”

A few of them roll their eyes.

In the corner of the room, Suzaku spots a giant ball of chains with the faint sound of snoring, and walks over to it. He pokes it a few times and as it wobbles he takes a few steps back.

"HEY! WAKE THE HELL UP!!!" Suzaku yells before punting the ball, which rolls across the room and into a wall before unraveling to reveal a young man within who'd created the chains from his chakra.

"What time is it?" The kid rubs his eyes and cracks his neck. He has an absent look on his face, a tiredness for life no sleep could ever fix. Suzaku knows that look. He helps the kid off the floor and dusts him off a bit before dumping the stack of notebooks into his hands.

"No sleeping when class is in session. Now that I've got you on your feet, I need you to pass these handbooks out to everyone." With a groan, the kid complies.

"Don't think I don't see you monkey-girl! Next time try the door, not the window!!" Suzaku yells out as the monkey tailed girl with a piece of toast in her mouth is halfway done sneaking into the back of the classroom.

A girl near the front, a ditzy blonde with her hair held back by a bow, raised a hand. “Excuse me, but to be honest you don’t really seem like a Sensei.”

Suzaku grinned. “Well of course I don't," he declares jabbing his thumb in the air. "That’s cuz I’m a cool Sensei!”

A ripple of uncertain laughter moved through the room. The tension cracked.

He hopped up onto the edge of his desk to sit, folding his arms loosely.

“Alright. First off, attendance. Let's see... Sumio Fuchigami!"

A blue haired boy raises up his hand with a yawn. "Here!"

"Hello! Welcome to-Whoaaah??!!" The receptionist nearly jumps from her chair startled.

"Me am Iwao"

The large stone creature states as he looms over the reception desk. Behind him sits an entire tree, which the creature seemingly dragged inside the building.

"Me run late. Me come here for study so me learn good"

The trembling receptionist picks up her clipboard, looks down and sure enough "Iwao Iwaishi" is listed as one the applicants.

"P-p-please f-fill out this f-form sir," the receptionist asks as beads of sweat roll down her face.

"You no talk good"

Iwao takes the clipboard by pinching it with his massive fingers.

"Papa tell Iwao what to do. Me remember"

As Iwao begins to sign his name he snaps the pencil in two, making the receptionist jolt.

"Urgh"

Iwao makes a second attempt but once again the pencil breaks, the receptionist flinches as the wood splinters out.

"Grrm"

The receptionist peeks over at Iwao, who locks eyes with her, and she immediately regrets it as she timidly darts her eyes back to the floor.

Iwao leans over the desk, examining her.

"Lady hands small, you write for Iwao"

“S-sir I-I’m actually n-not suppos-”

”Write paper, or me no be ninja"

Iwao gets closer to her face to listen better as the shivering receptionist can barely get her words out.

“P-please sir j-just let me go,” the receptionist pleads as she begins to cry.

”Sign?"

The quivering receptionist relents, risking her job and signs the paperwork for the towering rock golem.

“Thank”

Iwao begins stomping away, taking his tree with him.

"Bye-Bye lady"

As she wipes the snot and tears away she can see a giant hole of rubble where the entrance of the school once stood, seeing this sight she slumps onto her desk defeated.

"Alright now its time for Ninja 101. Can anyone tell me what chakra is?”

Hands shot up immediately, some eager, competitive even.

"Ayane?"

The girl places her prosthetic hand back down on her desk, a bit self conscious about her condition she pulls her kimono sleeve back up to cover it up, hoping the other kids didn't notice.

"It's... A mixture of physical and spiritual energy. We do this all the time, but we can make it happen faster with the right focus. The physical energy gives it force, the spiritual energy gives it form - I think. We can use it to do a lot of things."

"Correct, but beyond that its the energy that maintains the human body. So if you were to ever expend every last ounce of your chakra, you would die." Suzaku begins writing some of what he says behind him on the chalk board.

"Chakra is actually produced within certain organs such as the heart, lungs and stomach. That energy then circulates throughout the entire body in a network called the 'Chakra Pathway System', similar to the cardiovascular system. Any questions?" Suzaku scans the room to see the students scribbling notes, and feels happy to know how many of them are actually intent on learning.

"Alright next question, who here knows the 12 Basic Hand Seals? Yes, Momika?"

The scantily clad young lady cheerfully stands up to show the class her hand seals, her bouncing personality has seemed to capture the attention of all boys in the class.

"Dog, tiger, dragon, horse, snake, ox, laa, la, laa, de, laa~", every male within the vicinity isn't quite sure what she said but they'd agree she had two very good points. This was of course, to the annoyance of nearly every other girl in the class who shoot her dirty looks, Momika oblivious to all of this continues on. "-Rat, monkey, bird, boar, ram, and rabbit." Momika states quite proud of herself as she had to learn these hand signs all on her own.

"Good... they're great. Err-I mean the hand seals are one of the greatest ways of utilizing your chakra to perform a jutsu. Although rare, it's possible for a shinobi to form hand seals with just one hand. And even rarer are techniques and jutsu that can be utilized without any hand seals at all."

Get it together Suzaku! You are a professional for cripes' sake!

"Ahem, moving on tell me, what is a Nindō? Hmm, Hibiki?" Suzaku had pointed towards the blindfolded boy before realizing the gesture wasn't of much help.

"The Ninja Way - it is a shinobi's maxim, their personal ethos that they interpret the world through. It is imperative to have a Nindo that one ascribes to heavily. Failure to do so will leave them unprepared for the bloody reality of a Ninja's work, and they will soon grow mentally exhausted - and thus vulnerable to bribes, seduction, genjutsu, torture, and assassination. A Ninja with a Nindo, they do not truly believe in, is the optimal target when attempting to extract information from a village."

"Ohhh! Dao!" exclaims Mona, the monkey tailed girl.

"Spot on Hibiki, but to put it in simpler terms: Its a personal rule that each shinobi lives by. It is their way of life, their motto, belief, or 'dream'. Your homework for today is to think hard about what type of Ninja Way you'd like to live by, then write it down and leave it on my desk tomorrow morning. Clear?"

"Yes, Suzaku-Sensei!" The class all responds.

"Finally I saved the hardest question for last so I'll give you guys a couple tries: What does it mean to be a Shinobi?"

"To be a shinobi is to be a weapon loyal only to the village that trained you," Kurayami, the blonde girl, replies.

“It means doing missions for the village, to make it stronger. And I guess to be a good shinobi means staying alive and keeping your teammates alive." Sumio answers.

"To serve and protect the village, even at personal cost." Kosshi, the girl in white, states plainly.

“Heh, isn't it obvious? To be the strongest,” muttered a voice in the back.

"Being a Shinobi is fun! You get to go places, and do cool stuff, take care of people, and make sure people don't start doing bad things!" Taiki, the oni-looking boy, proclaims excitedly.

Suzaku nodded at each answer, letting them speak, allowing the room to fill with their different definitions: honor, power, family, survival.

When they were done, he leaned forward, voice softer.

“All of that’s true. But it’s missing something.”

He tapped his chest.

“A shinobi endures.”

The room quieted down.

“You’ll learn taijutsu forms. You’ll learn how to mold chakra, how to throw a kunai without taking out your teammate’s eye.” His eyes flicked over to a small, nervous young girl, Nana who was practically engulfed inside of her scarf. “You’ll learn strategy, hidden codes, espionage. That’s all the easy part.”

He stood and walked between the rows, hands in his pockets.

“The hard part is keeping a cool head when a mission goes wrong. It’s choosing not to run away when your teammate falls in battle. It’s about carrying your past without letting it decide your future.”

He stops beside a red haired boy with a face heavily scarred, as he'd seen him at the gate the day before, slouched down in his chair.

Up close, the kid looked even more rough then he'd realized, covered in bandages, scrapes and a few strange bite markings. His travel pack sat at his feet, unopened, like he wasn’t sure he was going to stay.

Suzaku crouched down so their eyes were level.

“Remind me, your name?”

“…Aisuke,” the boy said, with an attitude to his voice.

“Aisuke,” Suzaku repeated, as if committing it to memory. “You've traveled far, huh? And now you've made it all the way here. That already sounds like Moon shinobi material to me.”

Aisuke’s posture straightened up a bit.

Suzaku stood up and turned back to the class.

“This village took me in when I was about your age,” he said, tone light but eyes steady. “I was loudmouthed, angry, and about one bad day away from getting kicked out.”

A few students look surprised.

“But my sensei didn’t give up on me,” Suzaku went on. “So I’m not giving up on you. Any of you. Doesn’t matter where you’re from. In this room, you’re all my very precious students.”

Suzaku walks back to the front of the classroom.

"To be honest, there was no correct answer for my last question. To tell the truth, none of you will know what being a shinobi is truly like until you've earned this headband and entered the Shinobi World for yourselves." He states pointing towards his crescent moon symbol. "But I hope one day, after you've all graduated from here, you'll come visit me again and tell me all your answers then."

He clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and bright.

“Now! Physical Fundamentals. Everyone outside! If you can’t run ten laps without collapsing, we’re fixing that before lunch!”

Groans filled the air.

Suzaku laughed, striding toward the door as the students scrambled out from their desks, forming a line after him.

Dogen was quite busy as the beginning of the new school year had finally started. As much as he'd like to continue his work at an actual research institute, since that incident a few years back, The Land of the Moon has been quite accommodating and thus he must work tirelessly to maintain his position as the Ninjutsu Expert of The Hidden Moon Academy.

"Me here!"

"What the devil?" Dogen spins around from his work to see a massive stone face, sticking its head through his doorway.

"Me gonna learn now?" Iwao asks excited.

"What? No my Ninjutsu 101 class doesn't even start until tomorrow. What are you?" Dogen asks as he moves closer to get a better look.

"Me am Iwao, me come to learn ninju 10...1?"

"Really? You want to learn from me?"

Dogen furrows his brow as Iwao breaks through his doorway to enter the room.

"Do you even know what chakra is?"

"..."

"Do you know what a Hand Seal is???"

"Me don't know about chakarr..."

Dogen's scowl deepens.

"Sooo..." Dogen speaks while gnashing his teeth. "What are you doing here???"

"...Me saw papa craft hand once. Me no like, Iwao like stamp with hands instead."

Dogen pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long sigh.

"You like stamps? ...Oh birdey!"

In the training yard the morning sun climbed over the Academy walls, spilling gold across the packed earth. The class lined up in uneven rows, still unsure of each other, still carrying the distance of their different lands.

Suzaku walked back and forth in front of them, hands behind his head until Myorin-Sensei had arrived. She was running even later then he was today since she'd drank a little too hard at the welcoming ceremony.

"Class, say hello to Myorin-Sensei. She's going to be your Taijutsu Instructor for the duration of your time here in the Academy."

"Hello Myorin-Sensei!"

"Hello Class! I've only got a couple rules so listen closely now."

“Rule number one,” she called. “Don’t compare yourself to the person next to you. Compare yourself to who you were yesterday.”

She pointed toward the track.

“Rule number two. Pace yourselves. Shinobi who burn out fast don’t last long.”

She placed her hands on her hips and grinned.

“Rule number three. Try to keep up with your incredibly talented and generous teacher.”

They ran.

At first it was chaos, some sprinting ahead, some lagging, some tripping over their own feet. But as the laps continued, the rhythm settled. The frontrunner Mona slowed to match the pace of the furthest kid, Hibiki who’d started wheezing. Aisuke offers a bamboo water canteen to Kurayami, without breaking his stride. Besides Mona, Kosshi, Nekomaru, and Leigan lead the pack of kids around the track.

Myorin jogged alongside them, offering the occasional word, adjusting a posture, steadying a faltering step.

The clacking of sandals fills the air as they all moved together around the track.

From the rooftop of a nearby building, the village elder watched and smiled.

Below, Myorin called out, “That’s it! Breathe through it! You’re doing fine!”

And she meant it, not as a teacher reciting encouragement, but as someone who had once been pulled forward by the same steady belief.

By the time the bell rang, the class collapsed in a panting heap beneath the shade of the courtyard tree, no longer separated by clan or origin, but by shared exhaustion and laughter.

Suzaku leaned against the trunk, looking down at them with easy pride.

“Welcome to the Hidden Moon's Ninja Academy,” he said. “We’re going to make shinobi out of you just yet.”

The breeze stirred the cherry blossom leaves above, scattering shifting patterns of light across the children’s faces. Faces from every corner of the shinobi world, now turned toward the same sky.