Naruto: Chosen

Her coat was gray, with touches of white that gave the impression that a thin layer of snow had settled on her body. Katsuyu was her name, Mr. Inochi's prize mare.

- You really should sign up! - said Deidara, adjusting his helmet.

Deidara Yamanaka was my childhood best friend. At twenty, he was already a famous jockey and, like all Yamanaka, a Two by birth.

- I know they say that even Katsuyu is more polite than you, but... what have you got to lose? Ino is so excited that she spent the whole morning getting ready for the selection photos.

- Photos? What's the point? Isn't it a draw? - I asked, frowning.

Deidara let out a little laugh and gave me that smile of someone who knows a joke that the rest of the world is still unaware of.

- I'm already giving you the hint, Saky. Look as beautiful as possible. No riding boots or tool belts.

I rolled my eyes and fastened the saddle on Katsuyu. The mare didn't even stir like the other horses; I knew that game and I knew I was the best at it. As soon as Deidara mounted, she shot down the track at the slightest sign.

I took the opportunity to sit on the fence and watch.

- Hey, Testuda! - The old nickname made me turn on instinct.

Ino Yamanaka was a goddess in that small province. Deidara's older twin sister, she took her position in Caste Two as a model, gracing the covers of magazines I couldn't even afford. But in her spare time as an unattainable goddess, she was my best friend.

- InoPorca, shouldn't you be running to the Department of Provincial Services?

She rolled her eyes, letting out a laugh. It was funny how she and Deidara had the same laugh.

- You shouldn't mock your future queen! - she declared, pretending to be offended.

I laughed and, with the lightness of a cat, jumped over the fence to the side where she was standing.

- Forgive me, Your Majesty! Forgive my rude Caste Four manners! - I made an exaggerated bow, but even that didn't make her smile falter, although her eyes laughed silently.

- I condemn you! I condemn you to the guillotine!

- God, no! Mercy!

- I condemn you for that hideous shirt and those pants four times your size!

- My shirt isn't hideous! - I stopped the joke, sulking.

- You're right, it's worse! These colors should be considered a national crime! - She laughed even louder when my cheeks flushed with anger.

- Sakura! Time to go! - Pain's voice rang out, full of impatience.

He was still furious with me for the argument the night before, but he had breathed a sigh of relief when I announced that morning that I was signing up for the circus.

Ino would take a limousine to the Department. For me, that left the old rusty orange truck that smelled of manure.

My mother made me shower and put on something that almost made me look less like Four before practically pushing me into the passenger seat. She got in next to me, excited.

The silence in the car lasted more than five minutes before she asked:

- Did you have a fight?

- Some people talk too much," Pain replied, without taking her eyes off the road.

- Some people are sorry," I admitted, because I knew I deserved it. And Pain knew that this was as close to an apology as a Haruno could get.

- Some people should talk less," he retorted, before giving me a nudge on the forehead, smiling.

My mother smiled with satisfaction and rested her head on my shoulder.

- You smell like blueberries," commented my mother, Mrs. Haruno, in a sleepy voice.

I didn't reply and just let her doze off on the way to the local department.

Obviously, we weren't the only ones interested in handing in the application. When we arrived, the street in front of the Tea Village Department was already packed with women. In the queue, I recognized several girls from my neighborhood, each accompanied by three others. The line stretched halfway down the block. All the girls from the province were there to sign up.

I didn't know whether to be scared or relieved. My application was only a requirement from Sasuke, but seeing myself surrounded by so many competitors, my competitive heart raced. Instinctively, I scanned the crowd with my eyes, assessing who could be my biggest rival.

- Mebuki! - someone called out.

Pain, my mother and I turned at the sound of her name.

Mrs. Mikoto Uchiha was walking towards us with her usual elegance, accompanied by Private Lee. Behind them, Izumi came in soft, dragging steps, her countenance showing that she would rather be anywhere else.

She was wearing a long dark blue dress made of light fabric, with no necklines or flashy details - a true Uchiha lady. But to be honest, Izumi looked good in anything.

- Hello, Mikoto. How are you, Private Lee and Miss Izumi? - greeted my mother.

Izumi finally snapped out of her sulking trance and forced a convincing smile.

- More than fine, Mrs. Mebu! - she replied with dramatic exaggeration, before pulling me by the hand. - I'm being forced to do this, Saky-chan, save me!

I let out a laugh.

- Stop laughing! My uncle Fugaku said he'd send me to Suna if I didn't come.

- But you like Suna," I said.

- I do, but not now. Itachi is almost back.

I sighed and tried to smile. For Izumi, Itachi was always coming back... but it had been almost two years since they had seen each other.

- You look so beautiful, Izumi. Like a real lady," my mother complimented.

I realized the implied criticism. Her green eyes turned to me briefly, silently condemning my pants.

- I wanted to look good for the photo! - Izumi shrugged with forced animation.

- You look very beautiful yourself, Miss Sakura! - said Private Rock Lee, blushing like a bell pepper. I smiled at him.

- Photo? What photo? - My mother's eyes widened.

I looked around and noticed the stark difference between those who knew about the photo and those who had no idea. Just behind us, a girl - probably from Caste Seven - was still wearing her work clothes. Her mud-covered boots might not appear in the photo, but the dust on her apron wouldn't go unnoticed. A little further back, another Seven was smeared with grease from head to toe.

At the opposite end, a girl had her hair up in a bun, leaving a few curly strands loose. Next to her, I recognized one of Ino's model friends - a Two, no doubt - whose cleavage seemed endless. Others had exaggerated their make-up so much that they looked like caricatures. But at least they were making an effort.