The End of the First Term

No one answered.

Iruka glanced toward the back row. Naruto lay sprawled over his desk, pretending to sleep, his ears pricked up. It was not remotely convincing.

Iruka did not call his name again. He walked over and set the Evaluation Sheet beside Naruto's head, speaking quietly. "Read it when you wake up. Your Taijutsu is passable, but your academic subjects... Come to my office after school. I'll help you catch up."

Iruka was at a loss, too. The Third Hokage had specifically told him to keep an eye on this student, so he had to make an effort, even if the boy was the Demon Fox...

The boy lying on the desk grunted from beneath his arms. It was hard to tell whether that counted as an answer.

Hinata glanced back at the rear row, then quickly turned around again, pinching a crease into the corner of her Evaluation Sheet.

Kiyoshi glanced toward the back row.

The desk was spotless. No wrapping paper, not a single card, not even a crumb of eraser dust.

He looked away.

He understood what this day meant better than anyone else in the classroom.

He could hardly hand that boy something in front of the whole class.

If he did, the entire street would know by tomorrow that a child from the Uchiha Clan was playing with that boy.

If he was going to give him something, he would find somewhere without an audience.

"Uchiha Kiyoshi."

Iruka handed him his Evaluation Sheet. Excellent in theory, good in throwing. In the Clone Technique column, he had written "Beginner (reinforcing fundamentals)," with a pencil circle beside it. Iruka said little, merely nodding. On the system panel, the technique was listed as "nearing proficiency." Getting past that "Beginner" on the Evaluation Sheet would still take time.

Kiyoshi took it and returned to his seat.

He had used up his share of public praise the day before yesterday.

He actually preferred a simple nod like today's.

A nod was meant for him alone. An announcement was meant for the whole class.

The two carried different weight.

"Now, onto business." Iruka returned to the podium. "There's a slip at the bottom of your Evaluation Sheet. Have your guardian sign it and hand it in tomorrow."

Groans filled the classroom. Someone immediately began rehearsing "My dad will beat me when he sees this," only for his deskmate to remind him halfway through, "Your dad would have to know how to read first." The two started scuffling.

The groaning had nothing to do with Kiyoshi.

An empty field was not a bad thing. The bad thing was someone seeing it empty. The first could wait; the second had already happened.

Kiyoshi tore off the signature slip and looked at it.

Name, grades, comments, and at the very bottom, guardian's signature.

Blank.

Both his parents were on duty today. That was the truth.

But someone would always notice an empty field.

He folded the signature slip in half, then in half again, and tucked it into the innermost compartment of his schoolbag.

The Clan Studies Primer lay inside that compartment, its spine facing outward.

The two rested together. Neither was something he was in a hurry to show his teacher.

His parents being busy was normal, not a secret.

In nearly two months since school began, no one had come to pick him up at the gates. The whole class could see that; nobody had said anything.

"Bro Hao!" Nakajima's voice flew over from diagonally behind him. "Who signs this part for you? Aren't your parents..."

He swallowed the rest.

Not cleanly enough. The classroom fell silent for a moment, and several heads turned.

Kiyoshi kept his head down, rolled his pencil halfway around his fingers, set it down, and raised his head. He looked toward the podium.

"Iruka-sensei," he said. "My parents are on duty. They'll be home tonight. They'll sign it then."

Neither fast nor slow, one short statement for each fact.

Shisui had just taught him that this morning.

A child could fail to answer. What he must not do was rush to answer.

He had learned it that morning and put it to use that same morning.

Shisui's candy was still in his mouth, its sweetness nearly gone.

That candy had earned its keep.

[Awkwardness Value +25: blank guardian field mentioned in public (+15), Nakajima's failed teasing made the whole class turn around (+10).

Total: Awkwardness Value 372.]

Nakajima sat back down sheepishly. Someone in the front row quietly mimicked "They'll be home tonight," but before any laughter could start, Iruka silenced it with a sharp look.

Iruka withdrew his gaze and continued reading names. Halfway through, he looked up and swept his eyes across the classroom, his tone unchanged. "Remember, if you lose your signature slip, you'll have to write out another one. It's quite a lot of writing."

Nobody understood what that meant.

Kiyoshi did.

That remark was meant for the students who had just turned their heads: the subject was closed.

He did not leave the classroom during the break.

He lay over his desk, his face toward the window.

Across from the window was the ridge of his own roof. The crow was not there.

Most likely, he had gone foraging. A bird could not just perch there and live on bean sprouts from memories.

The roof ridge was empty. Kiyoshi treated it as a check of the watch: no one was at the post, but the watch still had to be kept.

Chair legs scraped the floor in the back row. Nakajima and a few others huddled together, muttering quietly. Occasionally, half a "Bro Hao" drifted over, but never the rest of the sentence. A six-year-old's malice could not last overnight. Neither could his curiosity.

Kiyoshi did not look back.

He never read through things a second time once they were over.

The afternoon lessons dragged.

As the evaluations drew to a close, Iruka squared the remaining Evaluation Sheets into a stack. His hands paused as he tied the string around them. He glanced at the sky outside the window, then finished the knot.

The moment the dismissal bell rang, Naruto was the first to charge out of the classroom, running even faster than usual, without even slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder.

At the school gates, Sasuke stood waiting beneath a tree.

His mother was beside him.

Mikoto was dressed more formally than usual today, her hair pinned up as well.

When she saw Kiyoshi, she beckoned.

"Kiyoshi."

"Aunt Mikoto."

"Iruka-sensei stopped by our house this afternoon." Her voice was as warm as ever. "He said Sasuke's teamwork score was so low, you'd never think it belonged to the same person as his theory score. Sasuke, what did your teacher tell you?"

"Unnecessary," Sasuke said.

"You see?" Mikoto spread her hands toward Kiyoshi, as though presenting something she, too, could do nothing about.

Kiyoshi looked at Sasuke.

When the whole class had laughed themselves silly the day before yesterday, not even an eyebrow had moved on that face.

This was probably the sort of thing Iruka meant by his teamwork score.

In data terms, this was called "possible strong-willed individual." Put plainly: this boy did not need an audience.

"Come over for dinner later." Mikoto looked at him, her gaze pausing on the clan crest at his collar before rising again. "Bring your signature slip, too. Your parents..."

"On duty," Kiyoshi said. "They'll be home tonight."

"Then leave it blank for now," Mikoto said. "There's nothing wrong with leaving it blank."

This time, he had rushed to answer.

Shisui's method guarded against probing. Mikoto was not probing.

She took Sasuke's hand and headed toward the clan grounds. After two steps, she turned back to add, "We're holding Family Day at home today. Come over after school, if you don't have any outsiders with you."

Kiyoshi nodded.

The Uchiha Family Day was held once every autumn, gathering everyone who shared the clan's name into one courtyard.

No one had counted how many years the Clan Genealogy had recorded that tradition.

He stood at the school gates and watched them walk away, turning a thought over in his mind: A courtyard like that would grow smaller with every passing year.

This year, everyone was still here.

Even far down the street, Sasuke was still arguing with his mother about something. From a street away, only the cadence of his voice remained. Kiyoshi could not make out the words, and did not need to.

He turned and took a detour first.

A tin wrapped in strips of cloth was tucked into the outermost compartment of his small bag. The folded signature slip lay in his schoolbag's inner compartment.

One was for this evening. He still did not know who would sign the other.

He headed toward the river first.

His pace was unhurried, and the little ache pressing against his heart fell into rhythm with his footsteps.