Chapter 5 - Graduation and Retirement
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With that, the two brothers were whisked away by their new Jonin leaders. Kakashi’s mentor, Junichi Watanabe, was around thirty and looked like he could easily take down a rogue ninja with one hand tied behind his back—if he was also blindfolded and juggling flaming shurikens.
Meanwhile, Miblade was paired with Saki, a young yet fierce Jonin whose confidence radiated as strongly as her combat prowess. She practically had a spotlight following her everywhere, like she was the star of a ninja soap opera.
“Ready for some fun?” Saki smirked, her eyes glinting with excitement, like a cat eyeing a particularly plump mouse.
“Oh, you have no idea!” Miblade shot back, grinning from ear to ear as if he’d just been handed a mountain of candy.
With their futures ahead of them and the thrill of adventure tingling in their veins—along with an odd itch that might be a bug bite—the brothers were ready to tackle whatever the Ninja World threw their way—even if it included a few unexpected pratfalls along the journey, like tripping over their own feet or getting stuck in a tree.
Saki led Miblade to the Konoha training ground, a vast expanse filled with the scent of fresh earth and the distant sounds of sparring that resembled two cats arguing over who gets the last piece of fish. The sun cast a warm glow, illuminating the area like a spotlight on a grand stage.
Turning to Miblade, she said, “Alright, I know you’re the son of the legendary Sakumo Hatake—the prodigy of the Shinobi Academy—but as the captain of the combat team that frequently charges into battle, it’s my responsibility to gauge the strengths of my squad. So, let’s hear a bit about you and then throw down in a friendly sparring match!”
Miblade nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze like a thousand textbooks piling up on his head.
The unmistakable aura of someone seasoned by the horrors of war emanated from Saki, and it was a far cry from the laid-back demeanor of the teachers back in school—this was a shinobi who had probably eaten her lunch in the middle of a battlefield.
“Nice to meet you, Saki. I’m Hatake Miblade,” he introduced himself, trying to maintain composure despite the intensity radiating from her like she’d just downed five cups of coffee.
“I possess the chakra attributes of wind, fire, and lightning, and I’m familiar with a bit of swordsmanship.” His answer was brief but polite, like a well-practiced script that had been edited for brevity.
“Great! Now I’ll test your abilities. Give it your all and show me what you’ve got,” Saki said, narrowing her eyes into a playful squint, a smirk forming on her lips that suggested she was eager for a challenge—or just excited about the possibility of witnessing a dramatic failure.
Miblade nodded in response, focusing as he formed the necessary hand seals and assumed a fighting stance that looked more like a yoga pose gone wrong.
Like a lion and the grace of a ballet dancer who had lost their tutu, he prepared for battle, wondering if it was too late to ask for a quick tutorial on how to not embarrass himself.
He brandished two weapons—one was a short sword, and the other a sleek, slender tai sword—both forged from rare chakra metal that gleamed under the sunlight like they were auditioning for a ninja-themed reality show.
The short sword, a family heirloom, had been crafted by a talented artisan on behalf of Miblade’s father, ensuring that it was worthy of the Hatake legacy.
After all, who wanted to inherit a dingy old chakra knife? Not a member of the proud Hatake clan! They were all about shiny and impressive, thank you very much.
Chakra conductive metals were incredibly valuable, and as the famed White Tooth, Sakumo had access to them—meaning both Miblade and his brother Kakashi sported their own shiny blades.
They practically glimmered in the sunlight, creating a blinding effect that could temporarily distract enemies or confuse the heck out of squirrels.
The extra sword Miblade wielded came from an intriguing attribute panel that was the result of his unexpected crossover into this world.
It was like a video game menu that popped up at random, displaying everything from his chakra levels to his skill progression—functioning like an app that didn’t ping you every five seconds with notifications.
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Thank goodness for that; he was already dealing with the chaotic reality of being five years old in a ninja world!
The attribute panel detailed:
Name: Hatake Miblade
Gender: Male
Age: Five years (practically ancient in the toddler world)
Chakra Level: 823 (for reference, a normal chakra level ranges from 300 to 1000, while the truly gifted range from 1000 to 3000, and the upper echelons soar from 3000 to a staggering 10,000! Miblade still had a ways to go before he could brag about it at playdates.)
Chakra Attributes: Wind, Fire, and Lightning (so basically, he was a walking weather report)
Main Skills: Transformation, Clone, Duplication, Fireball, Wind Barrier, Steel Flash, Konoha Swordsmanship (42% proficiency), Hatake Swordsmanship (65% proficiency), Feitian Yu Swordsmanship (17% proficiency) (not to be confused with “Failing Yu,” which was Miblade's unofficial skill.)
The attribute panel was one of the perks of Miblade's crossover, a handy tool that provided insight without the annoying jingles and pop-ups typical of some overbearing self-learning systems.
It made it clear that every skill needed to be acquired through practice and experience—no shortcuts allowed. The only thing he could shortcut was snack time.
With this panel, Miblade could monitor his growth in a tangible way, feeling every increment of progress, every increase in strength.
It was like having a personal cheerleader that didn’t actually scream in your ear, “You can do it!” Instead, it just calmly observed his budding ninja career, probably sipping imaginary tea while raising an eyebrow at his antics.
Miblade had always been a diligent student when it came to practicing his ninjutsu. Take, for example, his recent obsession with the avatar technique. In his determination, he worked tirelessly until he could proficiently create two separate avatars, feeling quite proud of himself.
But just when he thought he’d nailed it, his trusty system panel popped up with a cheery notification:
Avatar: 90% Progress During Learning
“Great,” he muttered, half-amused and half-frustrated.
“I can make clones, but I’m not perfect yet.” At least he had the insight to recognize that, unlike some of his classmates who might strut around like peacocks, believing they’d mastered a technique just because they could use it once or twice.
That was the difference between mediocrity and mastery, really: two people might possess the same raw power and learn the same ninjutsu, but one could be like a finely-tuned instrument, while the other was more akin to a kazoo played by a three-year-old—noisy but lacking any real finesse.
Miblade was keenly aware of this distinction. He could pinpoint exactly which skills he still needed to polish. It was a refreshing contrast to those who coasted through life, blissfully unaware of their shortcomings.
But the panel had another trick up its sleeve. Once Miblade managed to reach 100% proficiency in a skill, there was a chance it would bestow upon him an otherworldly ability—something that would give him a solid edge in battle.
Imagine being able to summon a wind barrier, unleash a steel flash, or wield the art of flying swordsmanship!
With this in mind, he gripped his sword tightly, squared his shoulders, and called out to Saki,
“I will attack!”
In a heartbeat, he swung his tai sword with all his might. But Saki, with the reflexes of a cat on caffeine, dodged effortlessly, letting Miblade’s strike sail harmlessly past her. With a flick of her wrist, she launched a handful of senbon needles in response.
Miblade’s eyes widened.
“Whoa, hold up!” he yelped, realizing these weren’t ordinary needles; they zipped through the air like angry wasps.
He quickly summoned his wind barrier, a protective wall of air that manifested in front of him just in time to absorb the oncoming projectiles.
“Not today, Saki!” he exclaimed, a bit too dramatically for his own taste.
With a swift motion, he activated his clone technique, summoning several illusory copies of himself that dashed toward Saki from both sides.
“Let’s see how you handle this!”
The clones might not have physical form, so they couldn’t strike directly like shadow clones, but they were excellent at creating chaos. Saki narrowed her eyes, clearly impressed, but not about to let her guard down.
Drawing two kunai with lightning speed, she launched one at the clone on her right, then pivoted to throw another at the clone on her left.
“Gotcha!” she smirked, certain she’d nailed the real Miblade.
“Clang!”
The sharp sound of metal colliding filled the air as Miblade’s blade met her kunai in a dramatic flash of steel, and he grinned triumphantly. “Nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that!”
The dance of combat was just beginning, and both were ready to push their skills to the limit.
With each clash, the thrill of battle sparked like fireworks, and Miblade couldn’t help but feel giddy with excitement.
He was on the verge of proving that he wasn’t just another kid playing ninja—he was a force to be reckoned with!
Saki quickly took two nimble steps back, her kunai now nothing more than a jagged remnant, cleaved in two by Miblade’s sharp sword.
“Wow, who knew this little guy could pack such a punch?” she thought, a smile spreading across her face as she recognized that this five-year-old was a formidable opponent. He was like a toddler version of a ninja action figure, complete with the dramatic backstory.
In a flash, Miblade unleashed his signature move, the Flash Steel Cut, which sliced through the air with the grace of a dancer but the ferocity of a thunderstorm. It was like watching a five-year-old wield a lightsaber in a spaghetti western—so unexpected, yet oddly fitting.
“This kid’s got skills!” Saki mused, realizing the sword was infused with chakra.
“Is this the fabled sword technique of the Hatakeki family or did he just have a sugar rush?”
Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Miblade decided to go all out. With a dramatic flair worthy of a Broadway production, he hurled one of his swords at Saki, then swiftly drew his short sword, electrifying it with the crackling energy of his thunder attribute chakra.
“Time to show you what the Hatakeki family sword technique is made of!” he declared with the kind of bravado that only a five-year-old could muster.
The White Fang Flow Knife Method was renowned for its speed and power. As Miblade slashed forward, each strike came at breakneck speed, like a rollercoaster ride on a caffeine high.
“Zing! Zang! Zow!”
The sounds of their blades clashing rang out in a rhythmic symphony—ping-pong-ping-pong-ping! They were practically doing a duet of “Chopsticks” with swords.
Saki was busy trying to keep up, blocking Miblade’s relentless flurry of strikes, but she couldn’t help but admire his prowess.
“Not bad for a kid!” she exclaimed, dodging and parrying, although she felt the sting of one particularly close call. “I mean, who taught you this stuff? A ninja master or a hyperactive squirrel?”
After an intense exchange that felt like it lasted both an eternity and just a heartbeat, Miblade finally came to a halt, panting and gasping for breath.
“Whew! That was something. I think I might have overdone it a bit!” he admitted, slumping onto the ground beside Saki like a deflated balloon.
“Yep, it looks like you drained your chakra faster than a kid at a candy store,” Saki chuckled, inspecting another one of her broken kunai.
“But hey, this is classic White Fang swordsmanship—always living up to its reputation of being completely over the top.”
Miblade sheathed his short sword and dachi with a flourish, then leaned back against a nearby tree, still trying to catch his breath.
“Well, at least I didn’t embarrass myself!” he said, grinning like he’d just won a gold medal at the Ninja Olympics.
“Just remember to practice hard when there are no assignments. I’ll come back to check on you when the missions start piling up!” Saki replied, ruffling his hair affectionately as if he were a particularly rambunctious puppy.
“Okay, Saki-senpai! And just to clarify, if I break any more kunai, I’m no
t paying, right?” he asked, wide-eyed and serious, as if he were negotiating a contract.
“Hahaha! Of course not. Consider it a ‘newbie discount!’” she laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement, clearly enjoying her role as the mentor.