Iruka stood at the head of the room, his voice low and steady as he spoke. "Congratulations! From this day forward, you are no longer mere students of ninjutsu, but full-fledged shinobi!" he said. The air in the classroom was thick with it, that weight of something bigger than themselves, something coming. "But among the ranks of shinobi, you are novices. The lowest of the low. Your greatest challenges are yet to come." He paused, the silence a kind of gravity. "The next step is the assignment of official duties on behalf of the village. We will begin by dividing you into three-man cells, each one under the guidance of a Jōnin, a senior ninja who will see you through your tasks."
The classroom stirred, a buzz of whispers rising like the soft rattling of leaves in a dry wind. Iruka cleared his throat, and the room fell quiet again. "I made the selections so each team’s abilities would be balanced," he said, but there was no calming the ripple of voices that followed.
A litany of teams were soon listed. "Cell number five. Haruno Sakura, Uzumaki Naruto"—the blond kid stood up like a firecracker, whooping in that way he always did—"and Sasuke Uchiha."
Our eyes flicked to the girl, Sakura. She looked away, face flushed, like there was something delicate between us that couldn’t hold. Across the room, the Yamanaka girl sat in her silence, some heavy disappointment on her face. It mirrored Naruto’s, that discontent that took root on his face when my name was mentioned.
The boy protested, loud and unrelenting. Conversely, we didn’t mind his presence: best to keep the beast close. For research purposes if nothing else. There were things to learn, and If half the rumours we've heard over the years were true it would be a very profitable endeavour indeed to keep him around.
Our attention snapped 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."
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They’re his notes?
Yes. Handwritten.
All of them?
Every page. All two thousand, five hundred, seventy-two of them.
The script... it looks printed. Perfect, down to the last character. What do these even mean? I am having problems making sense of the cypher.
Intelligence’s been on it for six years now, and they’ve barely scratched the surface. In fact, 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. Apparently, such conflicting opinions make them very uncomfortable.
And you want me to spy on him.
I want you to be his handler.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
An informant.
Call it what you will. The council was unanimous. Watch him.
They don’t trust him.
Silence.
…I understand.
Good luck, Kakashi. You’re going to need it.
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Naruto poked his head out the window, his voice loud. "He’s late! All the other teams have gone. Even Iruka-sensei’s gone." His tone edged into impatience, childish. Annoying.
Sakura scolded him, but I kept my focus elsewhere. There was a presence outside. Something deliberate. Something waiting. And then, with the quiet inevitability of the turning world, it came.
He entered through the window.
The man, our Jōnin, was a contradiction, all sharp angles and lazy grace. His silver hair spiked off to one side, his left eye hidden beneath a crooked forehead protector. A mask concealed the rest. He leaned against the sill like he was born there. Nonchalant
"Yo," Kakashi said.
What a strange fellow.
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He stood by the rail, lone visible eye narrowed. "Tell me about yourselves." His voice was flat, almost indifferent.
"Like what?" Sakura asked.
"The usual."
"The usual?"
"Likes. Dislikes. Dreams. Ambitions." Kakashi waved a hand.
Sakura pushed back. "Why don’t you go first?"
Naruto chimed in. "Yeah! We don’t even know who you are!"
He shrugged. "Me? I’m Hatake Kakashi. I don’t like talking about my likes or dislikes. My dreams are none of your concern. I’ve got plenty of hobbies, though." He stopped. That was all. There wasn’t more.
The room hung quiet. Naruto squirmed in the silence. "Uh, right! My name’s Uzumaki Naruto! I like instant ramen. I hate waiting for the water to boil. One day, I’m gonna be Hokage!"
The Jōnin looked at me. "You?"
"My name is Uchiha Sasuke."
The air hung heavy for a moment, silence wrapped in silence.
"That’s it?" he asked.
I didn’t answer. It was enough.
He turned to Sakura. She brightened, too eager, her gaze flicking toward me like a candle in the evening breeze. "I’m Haruno Sakura! My favorite thing..." She hesitated, glancing at me again, blushing. "My dream is—" another look, redder this time. "I hate Naruto!" Her mood shifted like wind, her emotions turning over themselves like waves in a storm. Intense. Annoyed.
Kakashi waved it all off. "That’s enough." He looked at her, then at me, his gaze searching for something beneath the surface. Maybe he saw it. Maybe he didn’t.
"Training starts tomorrow," he said, his voice a flat line. "It’s a survival exercise."
Naruto perked up, the fool already too confident. "Survival? We’ve done a ton of those!"
Kakashi’s eyes darkened, a smile hidden somewhere beneath the mask. "You’ll be up against me. The failure rate for this test is seventy-two percent. Fail, and you’ll hand over your headbands and return to the academy."
Naruto went pale. Sakura too. I didn’t flinch. A bluff. An obvious one. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact, it seems. Our teammates fell for it regardless. A pity.
"Tomorrow morning," Kakashi said, "at the practice field. Bring everything you think you’ll need. And don’t eat breakfast. Unless you want to vomit."
He tossed us each a scroll. “The details of your assignment are in these scrolls; memorise them.” His gaze lingering on me a moment longer than the others.
"Don’t be late."