Chapter Text
“Why do daemons have to settle?”
"Ah, they always have settled, and they always will. That’s part of growing up. And when your daemon settles, you’ll know the sort of person you are.”
“But suppose your daemon settles in a shape you don't like?”
“Well, then, you're discontented, en't you? There's plenty of folk as'd like to have a lion as a daemon and they end up with a poodle. And till they learn to be satisfied with what they are, they're going to be fretful about it. Waste of feeling, that is.”
——
It was the first thing the Academy taught about daemons, of course. Iruka would stand at the front of the class, Ahiru sitting primly on his desk, and wait. In the silence, then shuffling, muttered whispers of the class. Soon enough, one of the kids, their daemon flickering between forms as it scrambled up their raised hand, if Iruka was lucky, or across the rows of the tables, would ask the question.
“Iruka-sensei? Why’s your daemon only a dog?”
A coydog, actually, but that wasn’t the important part. Most of these kids hadn’t interacted with too many daemons closely beyond their immediate family, and he knew at least a few families always left the settling talk up to him. Why that was, he didn’t know, but if he had to handle all the rest of the adolescent talks, he figured he could handle the explanation. So, today was day one of daemon instruction, starting with forms.
“You see, your daemon’s ability to shift its shape relies on its internal Dust. When you go through puberty”—at this the class groaned, having had that talk just the previous unit on shinobi health—“your Dust itself changes, and your daemon will take on a permanent form. This is known as ‘settling’.”
Usually, this proclamation was followed by a loud murmur throughout the class as they all said something to the effect of “But I don’t want my daemon to settle!” before quieting under a glare. They had been his students for three years, after all, and he would hope that they could speak fluent Iruka by now. When that didn’t suffice, Ahiru would paw at the desk, a low growl rising in her throat. That usually got them to settle down. The next question, typically something about whether or not they could control what their daemon settled as, was also straightforward.
“No, you don’t get to choose what your daemon settles as. Some say it reflects your soul. Others say it chooses what’s most needed at the time of settling. Some shinobi think they simply choose a form that works well with their human’s preferred fighting style, if they’re not a civilian daemon. But it chooses itself. So all of you who just tried out lions and bears”—half the classroom fidgeted guiltily, their daemons shifting back into smaller, more manageable forms—“please change back so you don’t destroy the furniture, thank you.”
All in all, a pretty standard introductory daemon lesson. Typically, from here he’d go into the history of the daemon–shinobi bond, and how many famous ninja were known for their fluid combat bond with their daemon and their ability to work together in battle. But this wasn’t, it seemed, a normal day.
Sakura raised her hand from the third row, her pink hair peeking out behind Choji’s head. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that she had the first question; she was the top of the class in written exams, after all. Her daemon settled on her still-waving hand in its bluejay form.
“Iruka-sensei? Do some people ever settle before puber—before becoming a teenager?” Iruka smiled, both at the knowledge that even his standout bookworm struggled with the embarrassment of the health class, and at her none-too-subtle glance in Sasuke’s direction. As well as every other girl in the class. Really, he needed to give his kunoichi remedial lessons in stealth and subterfuge.
Then again, childlike crushes aside, Sasuke and his daemon were an eye-catching pair. He sat in the front row every day, ignoring anyone who sat on either side of him, his daemon in repose at his side. But it was her form that was most conspicuous. Minori, according to Iruka’s records, had been in the form of a panther for the past five years.
Coiled muscle and sleek sinew, Minori was larger than many of the children in the Academy class. When Sasuke had first come to school on the shoulders of a daemon large enough and powerful enough to slaughter his classmates, the teachers had written it off as childhood posturing. But days turned into weeks, then months, and it was only at the end of that school term that any of the teachers had realized that Sasuke Uchiha’s daemon hadn’t shifted since the murder of his clan.
As if he could read Iruka’s thoughts, Sasuke raised an eyebrow, glancing from Sakura, who was still pretending she wasn’t looking in his direction, to Iruka himself. “Yes, Sakura,” he said. “There are records of those who settled early, typically in response to a strong external stimulus such as a loss.” Sasuke hmph-ed in response, apparently deeming Iruka’s explanation up to par. Not that he was looking for approval. Regardless of Minori’s size, Ahiru was completely confident that he could take her in a fight if need be.
“Now then, are there any more questions?”
The class stared back at him silently. Well, then, he just had to cover all the basics. Shinobi-daemon conduct wasn’t exactly close to civilian standards, after all.
