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"Don't call me that!"

Six years old Nami had always hated his name.

He didn't know where he got that name, but he hated it. He absolutely hated it with burning passion.

Other kids had always made fun of his name. Nami, meaning wave, was not a name rarely heard in Kirigakure. But that was for females. Hearing his own name roll off people's tongues made him sick, so sick that he was always ready to throw a temper tantrum every single time his ears caught that vile name, although he had never dared to do so.

"Nami!"

His insides burned with frustration as he whipped towards the direction of the voice. Pulling the corners of his lips into the grouchiest frown he could produce, his icy blue eyes glared at the person who stomped towards him as if she was trying to start an earthquake with legs similar to those of an elephant's. She looked down to him and shot an even fiercer look, lips stretched to a mean scowl.

"You good-for-nothing brat, I told you to not run off again!"

Nami looked at the ground angrily. He didn't want to see her face, it might make him lose control over his already shortened temper.

A slap. He was seeing red, but held his anger anyways.

"Why aren't you answering?! I told you to go to the Academy and study, not wander off!"

"I don't want to!"

Another slap. His cheek stung, but he was used to this. Every single day with that horrid woman made it seem normal.

"You're going to the Academy and that's final. Or else no lunch for a week."

She left, knowing that she had won. No matter how stubborn the child is, he is smart enough to know when he has to stop fighting back.

Nami's eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he turned to the direction of the Academy (I must not cry I must not cry I must not cry I must not cry!!). His mind cursed her existence. At a young age, he had experienced hatred. Hatred for that woman, hatred for his life, hatred for his misfortunes, hatred for his parents.

Whoever they were, his parents were to blame, he thought. If they hadn't abandoned him and left him in a lousy orphanage, he wouldn't have had to meet that woman. The woman who called herself a mother for those who didn't have one (he scoffed at that, she was far from a mother; she was a devil at best), the woman who makes his day a hundred times gloomier, the woman who made him sick of watching her hit the other children at the orphanage, the woman who pretends to be nice in front of officials just so she wouldn't be put in prison for child abuse and mistreatment.

If also his parents hadn't abandoned him, he wouldn't have to endure the pain she had given him. He would be normal, he would receive love, he would be happy. He would have friends, something he had longed for a long time. He would have a beautiful name, a name with a far better meaning than a simple and boring wave.

He was so distracted with his own thoughts that he didn't notice the figure bolting in front of him, and when he finally did, he was a split second late.

The crash was definitely inevitable, and the two collided so harshly that they both fell back from the impact. A low groan escaped his lips, his eye taking a good look on the other person who had the same pained expression etched on their face.

Nami, being six and in an extremely foul mood, scowled harshly. "Can you not run?! How would someone childish like you grow as a man when you're older?"

The other child (who was probably no older than Nami) glared at him with such ferocity which rivaled his own that he was nearly taken aback, but he tried to cover up the slight shock with an annoyed click of his tongue.

"First of all," the stranger's voice was calm yet fiery at the same time. "You're also at fault. Why don't you use your eyes when you have two, huh?"

Nami scoffed. "Why, you—"

"And second, why should I grow up as a man? I'm a girl!"

He looked at him—no, her—and snorted. "Ha! Ugh please, I've seen girls, and they look nothing like you!"

The person that stood in front of him really didn't seem like any girl he had met before. They were always wearing colorful dresses, shiny hairpins which stood out obnoxiously resting on top of their heads. The child was wearing black pants with a cloth colored a dull shade of gray.

"What did you say?!" He—or she, Nami really didn't know at this point—fumed and stood up. "Just because I don't wear pink frilly dresses and big ribbons on my head doesn't mean I'm a boy!"

"Whatever. I don't even care."

"Like you're one to talk. You don't look much either."

That managed to trigger a reaction from him. "Excuse you? At least I don't lie about my gender!"

And at that moment, as if on cue, that woman's voice rang through the air.

"Nami! Why aren't you at the place you're supposed to be at?"

He cursed, making the other child wince at the word, but he or she (he didn't really give a damn anymore now) snickered and pointed at him. "Nami?  Who's the liar now, huh?"

The said boy yelled in frustration, an alarm going off in his mind  when he saw the woman coming towards him, face clearly far from pleased. In the middle of his panic, he grabbed the child's hand, pulling his (or her) body along with him. A squawk of protest was heard, but he could care less.

He didn't know how far he ran, with his slightly overgrown white hair obscuring some of his vision because of the violent wind, and the direction didn't matter anymore. The only thing that whirled through his strangely absent mind was that if that woman saw the other person he was with, she wouldn't leave him (or her) alone. No matter how annoying the other child was, he would never want the woman to find an additional target.

After making sure she had lost them, Nami dropped to the ground and huffed. His companion did the same, but Nami noticed the look of curiosity and bewilderment sent his way.

"Why did you do that?"

It sounded like an irritated complaint, but somehow Nami felt like he heard slight concern laced in the sentence.

"You wouldn't want that woman to see you," he said, pausing to catch his breath. "Look here, if you ever see her again, run. That's the wisest thing to do."

"But why?"

"She's a bad person. Don't ever associate yourself with someone like her."

"I can defend myself even if I am a girl!" Oh, how stubborn she is, Nami thought. He decided to go along with what she said. After all, the whole am i speaking to a guy or a girl  thing was making his head spin. He grabbed her shoulders in frustration, eyes cold as ice.

"Just do what I say."

His voice wasn't raised, nor did it sound angry, but a look of fear crossed her face as she nodded shakily, to which he gave an approving gesture and let go of her shoulders.

"Now answer me. Are you a boy?"

She puffed her cheeks and glared, back to her usual self. "No i'm not! I am a girl, and I have a name which fits myself!"

That hurt him, but he didn't show it. "Is that so? Then what's your name?"

"Mitsue," she smiled proudly. "Karatachi Mitsue."

He snorted. "How does that fit you in any way?"

"It does! My name refers to a bright ray of light, just like my personality!" Nami couldn't help but feel as if she was boasting. Mitsue noticed the look on his face, and she felt her cheeks burn. "Hey, at least my name has a better meaning than just a simple wave!"

Nami froze, looking down. He didn't retort back, because he himself knew that his name was probably the most meaningless name in the whole world.

The girl saw his hurt expression and panicked. "Wait! I'm not being serious, you know! I'm really sorry, it was a slip of the tongue," she said hurriedly, desperately hoping he would cheer up. Realizing that her poor attempt only worsened what was already bad enough, she internally screamed at herself.

Mitsue wasn't blind. She was clumsy, bold, and rather slow at deciphering people's feelings—but even she could see the tears that gathered in his eyes, threatening to spill any time now. In any other situation, she would have laughed out loud because she believed boys shouldn't cry, but she knew she was at fault this time.

"It's true, you know," she tried again, though it was clear that he didn't believe any word she had spewed out. "It's true! I like your name, and—"

"Stop lying already," he glared. "Fine! I know, okay? Everyone else has a beautiful name, and i'm the only one who was named after a boring and simple word."

His breath started to become ragged, and Mitsue was scared as if she had broken a dam. She was seeing signs of upcoming tears (oh lord what have i done i'm such an idiot i'm—) and made a decision.

"I'm not lying," she said firmly. "Nami," she inwardly screamed success at the look of disbelief etched on his face. "Look at me."

He did, and it was as if he wasn't the one who intimidated her just a few minutes ago.

"Good," Mitsue grinned. "You don't believe that I like your name, do you?"

Silence. Then, a hesitant shake of his head.

"I can prove it."

"How?" He croaked.

"Like this," Mitsue grabbed his hand, and clicked her tongue in annoyance when he pulled his arm back in reflex. "Just trust me, won't you?"

Nami froze again. Trust?

Multiple doubts crossed his mind. What if this all was just a trick? What if she's making fun of him? What if she hurts him? What if she stomps on his trust like all of his former so-called 'friends' did? What if she's using him for fun? What if—

A warm pinky finger enveloped his own. His trance broke, and he stared.

"I, Karatachi Mitsue, vows to become Nami—what's your last name?" Her eyes widened when he shook his head. He has no last name. But then she quickly regained her composure and cleared her throat. "I, Karatachi Mitsue, vows to become Nami's faithful friend until death sets us apart."

She tightened her finger and Nami winced, his own pinky was hurting. "Your turn now."

Nami just did the most logical thing anyone would do at that moment.

He stared.

Mitsue growled and kicked his leg slightly, but it was enough to make him yelp and plead her with his eyes. She shot him a do it quickly look and he sighed.

"I, Nami, just Nami," he stammered somewhere in the middle. "Vows to become—become what again?"

Mitsue opened her mouth, ready to scream out of impatience. Nami understood quickly and proceeded before she had a chance to scold him.

"I, Nami, vows to become Katarachi Mitsue's f-friend."

"It's Karatachi," she said sharply, but then flashed a toothy grin and released their intertwined fingers. "But okay. We're friends now! See, if I didn't like your name, why would I be friends with you?"

Somehow the logic didn't seem to fit in his mind, but he smiled shyly nonetheless. "But what's with the whole pinky thing?"

"I—uh," she stuttered. "It-it's a trend! Yeah, yeah. If you do exactly like that, people say a friendship stronger than anything would be created!"

Nami stared with bewilderment for the umpteenth time that day.

"You literally just made that up, didn't you?" He squinted at her suspiciously.

"Ye—of course not!" She huffed. "How could you accuse me like that?"

"You did!"

"I didn't! Stop it!"

Nami didn't go to the Academy that day.

But even as the woman hit him over and over again the second he arrived at the orphanage, he couldn't erase the bright smile on his face. Even as she cursed at him for more than he could count, his mind didn't register the hurtful words. Even as she sent him off to bed without giving him dinner while also threatening him that he wouldn't get lunch for a week, he didn't feel hungry.

He was happy.

Despite being yelled at, despite getting in trouble, despite going to sleep with ugly bruises all over his body, he had no regrets.

Because for the first time ever, he had a friend.

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