"After the game, the king and the pawn both return to the same box" - anonymous

::

Hearing a soft rattle, I slowly stirred from my slumber. With a small grunt of protest, and a few seconds to adjust my maroon-coloured eyes to the light, I sat up. My muscles ached in protest, quickly wiping away the small bit of drool on my shin, I surveyed the room.

It begun returning to me, the memories of the night before. And I pieced together that this was my mother's chambers, not my own.

Fingers tracing the futon where mother slept, the remanence of her body imprinted in the sheets — cold, she hadn't been here for hours. The shoji doors were cracked open, just enough for the first rays of the sun to seep in.

I soon stood up, quickly feeling the absence of the warm cloth, and slid out the open door. Making my way down the open-aired hall. Feet making a soft patter with each step, the brisk morning air tussling through my hair.

My clansmen seemed to all either be off on missions or still sleeping, the only indication of any life in the silent halls were the spirals of smoke drifting up from the candles, once bitting up the Main Household

Returning to me room without any trouble, I stripped my clothes — the same sweaty attire I wore during my training late yesterday afternoon. I puled on an identical outfit; maroon hakama pants, matching coloured short-sleeved kimono shirt with a dark haori over the top — the same Takahashi crest stitch on my back.

Re-lacing my sandals, I unwrapped my bandages — ones I wore during training to minimise injury and help perfect accuracy. However they were not need on my first day at the academy.

Yep, I was staring at the academy today. The acceptance age was usually seven but as I was still six for only four more months, the Tsuchikage allowed me to attend with my peers — no doubt in kindness for my father and clan.

Slowly walking, I made my way to the back of my chambers and into my bathroom. As both the clan Head's son and Heir — no matter how much they hated it, I still was — I wasn't to attend the public bath houses, much to my relief.

My chin didn't even make it up to the mirror, but I got a good enough glance at my unruly hair. The wild, golden hue — with a slight hint of reddish brown — was an untameable beast. No matter what I did, it always stuck up in the most bizarre of ways.

Why? I don't know. Both my mother and father had very thin, sleek hair. Yet mine seemed to have a mind of its own. My fringe reached my eyes, brushing against my dark lashes, with two spike strands framing my chubby tanned, baby-faced cheeks. 

At the back it was short and spiked, sticking out of my head like a set of knives. I attempted to smooth it but no luck. And so, after a few good minutes of tugging and tweaking, I gave up. 

I left my bathroom, returning to my bed — a more modernised version of a futon. I grabbed the kunai pouch off my pillow and attach it to my thigh. Though it couldn't really be called one, as both the kunai inside and the pouch itself were nothing more than fakes, wooden toys they gave to academy students.

Sighing, heavily, I slid the door shut behind me as I left. Breathing in the morning air as I begun my leisurely stroll off to the academy.

::

I smirked, a little slyly, and what would probably be an amusing sight on my baby-face, I didn't care — I was pumped.

I was about to begin my training to become a shinobi, 'Finally!'

I chuckled slightly, the closest thing to a giggle you'd catch me doing, before I breathed in, deep. Approaching the building, which only seemed to grow larger and more terrifying.

That was, until I noticed that large banner displayed on the builded — in bright colours it read 'ACADEMY OPENING CEREMONY! WELCOME!'

Needless to say my nerves were put at ease.

I approached a flock a children roughly around my age just as a kind-looking-but-obviously-fake kunoichi begun attempting to gather the attention of my soon-to-be peers.

"Alright everyone!" She announced, putting on her best smile — which was bellow decent. "Quiet down! Please listen in for you names! I'll be sorting you into your classes for the next five years!"

Ah, this cannot be good.

What they don't know — and by they I mean the Iwagakure council of elders. Is that I already know that they know everyones current abilities and have already sorted them based on such bias. But i'm not supposed to know like the rest of my future peers.

But they don't know I do know that.

I was curious to discover just what kind of bunch they placed me with.

"Now Class 1A." Top students, filled to the brim with prodigies.

"Class 1B." Those on the brink of a prodigy status.

"Class 1C." Average, nothing special.

"Class 1D." Terrible, most are civilian kids who will drop out as soon as they began practical work.

I looked around and soon discovered I was one of the very few kids left, besides a hand full of others who looked just as confused as I was.

Were we a special bunch of kiddies who were set on the path to become elites?

I wished.

"And finally Class 1O." 1O? Never heard of them. 

Maybe we were a special class...?

"Alright then! Everyone here will be joining 1O. If you will please follow me, i'll take you to your Sensei for the next five years... hopefully."

The mutter under her breath did not go unnoticed by me.

I, along with three others, followed after the fast-walking kunoichi. She led us through the building, passing many other classrooms that looked far more interesting that our own.

Soon, we came to a door. She knocked three times, before sliding open the door. There, sat an elderly man, shinobi — clearly retired. The kunoichi turned to us with a slightly sadistic smile.

"Goodluck!"

The sarcasm in her tone put none of us at ease.

And so that was how we — me and three others — found ourselves before a surprisingly terrifying old man. He hobbled forward, hand gripping his cane as he narrowed his eyes, scarred face twisted into a scowl.

"I'm gonna tell ya up front," His voice was rough, "Unlike the other brats, you lot are special. And so, unlike them, you won't have multiple teachers — only me, for the next five years. Provided you brats survive that long."

This was odd.

"If you didn't know already... well, now you do. You brats were put together by those old geezers up top for a reason." It was almost amusing how addressed his superiors. "This class, 1O... is a special bunch. Do you lot know why?""

When no one replied, he smirked.

"Because out of all the other brats, you lot are by far the worst."

What did he just say?