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Wellspring Arms, Tuesday

Today Temari had an atlas to study.

And was boggling a bit over just how large this world turned out to be. There was no wonder why they needed cars and the like if everything was this far apart. Still didn't make it any less strange, of course.

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Who is studying!

"Busy, brat?"

Ender imitated Temari's particular mode of speech easily. It still reminded him a little of Petra. He leaned across the desk-- ah, geography.

Temari barely glanced up. "Cute. Been practicing?"

"Not really," he said, "You sound just like an old friend of mine."

Now she was curious. "Who?"

"Petra Arkanian." The name still brought back memories, and he glanced over to a case full of guns. "She was the best shot in any army."

"Are you giving me a compliment?" She asked, a slow smirk forming.

"No," Ender replied, "She also had a foul mouth on her." A swaggering way of speaking that really reminded him of Temari, somehow.

"I'll take it as one anyway." There was a pause as she closed the atlas. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said. Steady and normal, and he'd blame Karal for it in a heartbeat. "You're studying?"

"I don't know the things you people take for granted here," She said, easily admitting a weakness. It wasn't an important one.

"Looks like you're making a good start on it, though," he said, stepping back from the desk. "Brat." The word still amused him.

"I could switch it up," Temari offered, resting her elbows on the desk and leaning forward. "Call you by your name."

"Now that would be novel."

"Wiggins, right?"

"Wiggin, actually," Ender said, leaning against the desk again. "'Wiggins' makes me sound like a toy."

Temari smirked. "Right. Because it's easy to mistake you for a toy. You're small enough, I suppose."

This from the woman who would probably never top 5'3".

"I'm taller than some," he said, raising an eyebrow at her, "You should've met Bean, the pinprick." The brilliant pinprick.

"Pinprick?"

"He was the smallest and the youngest. Pinprick was the word."

"How old?" Temari asked, glancing away.

"Couldn't have been more than seven at the time. Maybe eight."

That sounded about the right age to her. "I think my world is closer to yours than most others."

That could mean a great deal of things. But in this one, it was a direct, simple thing. Something he could easily guess, and ask about with even more ease. "How old were you?"

"Ten. I stayed a genin for a long time to wait for my team to be formed."

"You're going to have to explain what a genin is," he said, carefully, searching her expression.

Temari smiled faintly. "We attend an academy as children. It's to teach us basic skills and see if we're even capable of being a ninja. When we graduated, we're placed into three men genin teams."

"I know a few things about academies," Ender replied. Or Battle Schools, he didn't say. "Training missions? Games?"

She nodded. "Missions are based on skill level needed to complete. Once we're deemed ready by our jounin teacher, we're nominated to take the chunnin exam. It's held with the other villages instead of being an in-house thing."

"And a chuunin is, what--? A commander?" They were funny names for things that weren't funny at all, and his mind stretched a little to find all the connections.

"A ninja of moderate skill. Enough to accomplish a lot, but nothing spectacular..."

"Your world must have strange ideas about what 'spectacular' means." He hadn't seen Temari in action, but he'd seen the way she walked, and that, on its own, already told him a great deal.

Temari just grinned. "I'm a jounin. The sister and daughter of Kazekages. I can't be anything less than good at what I do."

"Including modesty."

"Modesty is for the weak."

"Or people who just want to get the job done," he said, smiling slightly.

"Even then, you can tell. There's a difference," She insisted.

"You can tell my rank, if you want to," he said, shrugging, "It doesn't mean anything."

"No. Ranks only mean something if you have the ability to back it up."

"So not modesty," he replied, "Evenness. Not caring about getting the credit."

"A soldier," She corrected.

"Not if it lasts past that."

Where there is zen!

Where there is shooting!

Where there is fleeing for work!

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Wellspring Arms, Tuesday

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Meditation Room

Shooting Range

OOC