KONOHA

“...From this day forward, you are no longer mere students of ninjutsu, but full-fledged shinobi,” Iruka said from where he stood at the front of the class. “But amongst the ranks of the shinobi, you are mere novices,” he continued. “The lowest of the low. Your greatest challenges all lie ahead. The next step is the assignment of official duties to you all on behalf of our village. We will begin by dividing you into three-man cells. Each would be monitored by a Jōnin, a more senior ninja who would guide and coach you as you become familiar with your various assignments.”

We leaned back into our seat observing as the classroom grew abuzz with feverish whispering.

Iruka cleared his throat and the class slowly grew silent. “I made the selections so that each cell’s abilities would be roughly the same,” he said, inciting another round of whispering. It took longer to subdue the class this time around, and when Iruka finally succeeded in doing so he pulled out a list from which he began listing the team compositions.

“...Next, cell number five. Haruno Sakura, Uzumaki Naruto,” —the demon fox jumped from his seat hooting in celebration— ”and Sasuke Uchiha.” Our gaze flickered towards a now jubilant Sakura. She caught our stare, flushing to the neck as she hurriedly comported herself. Beside her, the Yamanaka princess sulked, a despairing expression on her face. It mirrored the one Naruto wore upon hearing our name listed for the cell. The boy, in his immaturity, held a grudge against us; probably as a result of how quick we always were to dismiss his rather outlandish ideas.

As expected, the demon fox spent the next few minutes in protest at our placement in the same himself. Unbeknownst to him, we would rather have the strange creature within arm's length. For research purposes if nothing else. If half the rumours we’ve heard about the boy over the years were true it would be a very profitable endeavour indeed.

Our attention spanned back towards Iruka as resumed his instruction on our next course of action. “...introducing your ninjutsu instructors this afternoon,” he said, “until then, you are dismissed.”

***

Are these his notes? Are they all handwritten?

Ah… Yes. All two thousand, five hundred and seven-two of them.

But… the penmanship … It looks typed out. Everything. Not a misshapen character anywhere. What do these even mean? I am having problems making sense of the cypher.

If you could do that at a glance I would be impressed. The intelligence division has been struggling to crack the code for nearly six years now but cannot boast of having made any significant progress. They suspect he modifies the cypher every few months just to keep things interesting. Inochi claims his analysis team has a running grudge against the boy; they want him in their ranks, but cannot, fearing the risks that such a decision would entail. Such conflicting opinions make them very uncomfortable.

…I see.

Kakashi, the decision to make you the boy’s Jōnin-sensei was unanimously made by the inner council. Not only as a tutor, no. But rather as a… supervisor. A handler.

A spy.

…Yes.

…They don’t trust him.

…

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I understand, Hokage-sama.

…Thank you. What’s more, you will be overseeing Naruto as well. Best of luck.

…I will do what I can.

***

“Our teacher is late!” Naruto proclaimed, poking his head out the window in search of our instructor. “All the other teams have already gone off with their Jōnin-sensei. Even Iruka-sensei has gone!”

“Hey! What are you up to Naruto!” Sakura shouted as the boy started scribbling some nonsense on the board. We ignored them in favour of observing the aura we just perceived. It rapidly approached the classroom before stopping just outside the window. For a few curious minutes, the Jōnin, our new sensei apparently, waited outside. Then as spontaneously as he arrived, he entered the classroom.

Our left brow rose as we turned to regard the man. He had a unique appearance, to say the least. Spiky silver hair oriented to his left. Dark grey eyes—one of which was concealed by the headband he wore crooked on his forehead— and a dark-blue cloth mask covering the lower half of his face. The mask overlapped seamlessly with the bodysuit he wore underneath his shinobi garb. He leaned against the windowsill, his posture lazy and relaxed.

“Yo!” the man said in greeting. What a strange fellow.

***

“Now, I would like you all to tell me a little about yourselves,” our Jōnin-sensei said leaning against a metal railing.

“Like what?” Sakura asked.

“I don’t know. The usual?”

“The usual?”

“Yes. Your favourite thing… What you hate the most… Dreams. Ambitions. Hobbies. Things like that. The usual.”

“...Why don’t you go first?” Sakura ventured.

“Yeah!” Exclaimed Naruto. “After all, we don’t even know who you are!”

“Oh… me? My name is Hatake Kakashi. I am the kind of person who doesn’t like talking about his likes or dislikes. My dreams for the future are none of your business… but anyways, I have a lot of hobbies.”

“…”

“Now, it’s your turn,” Kakashi continued, gesturing towards Naruto.

“Uh? Me? Right! My name is Uzumaki Naruto! I like instant ramen! I like Ichiraku ramen even more! What I hate is the three-minute wait after I pour in the boiling water. I dream of one day becoming Hokage!”

A look towards the Jōnin as he turned his attention towards us. “You?”

“My name is Uchiha Sasuke.”

“...”

“...Is that all?” Kakashi asked, filling the ensuing silence.

“That’s all that matters,” we tell him. Quid pro quo. Not that we intended to give him any accurate information about ourself even if he had done so himself.

“O…K. And finally, the young lady?”

Sakura perked up at the request, eager to volunteer information. “I am Haruno Sakura. My favourite thing is… well, it’s not a thing… It’s a boy… His name is…” she glances at us, blushing. “My dream is…” she glances again at us, blushing further. Then her face cleared up as she continued. “I hate Naruto!” she growls glaring at the boy who wilts underneath her gaze. Then the next moment, she was a blushing mess again. “My hobbies are—”

“Enough!” Kakashi interrupts her. I stared at the girl and her blush deepened even further. Pitiful thing. Her hormones were making a mess of her brain. What a dreadful feeling that must be.

“I believe we all understand one another,” Kakashi said, wrangling the conversation back on track. “Formal training begins tomorrow. Our first project would be a survival exercise. Remember to come prepared.”

“Survival exercise?” Naruto asked, perking up. “Our school days were filled with survival exercises. This would be easy!”

“Oh.” Kakashi’s gaze turned predatory. “But you’ll have to survive against me. It won’t be your typical practice exercise. The test we are about to perform has a seventy-two per cent chance of failure. Should you fail, you would have to hand in your headbands and return to the academy for further training.”

Sakura and Naruto turned pale at those words. We watched Kakashi with one brow raised in amusement. ‘Bluffing already, are we?’

“In any event,” the man continued, ignorant of our thoughts, “we’ll meet tomorrow morning on the practice field so I can evaluate every one of your skills and weaknesses. Bring all your ninja tools and weapons. And don’t have breakfast beforehand… unless, of course, you would prefer throwing up.”

The Jōnin reached into his flak jacket and pulled out three scrolls before handing them out to us. “The details of your assignment are in these scrolls,” he said. “Memorize it.

And don’t be late.”