I was of two minds about what I was doing with the children at the academy. On the one hand, I had seen tremendous growth in their academic lives. A little over a week had gone by, and I suspect the fifth years were approaching where they would have been by the end of the year academically speaking, but I haven’t noticed any big side effects yet.
Not seeing any glaring side effects scared me more than anything. I had used this teaching method a handful of times in the past, but only on single pupils, not whole classrooms. If there was a glaring side effect to my genjutsu, I could come up with a countermeasure and minimize the negative aspects of it to a more manageable degree, but not knowing meant my hands were tied. I can’t begin to fix a problem if I don’t even know if there is one.
I made the mistake of asking Orochimaru for his opinion, and I don’t know what I was expecting. He could not have cared less about the safety of the children and encouraged me to push the jutsu and the students to the limits with the idea that if something was wrong, we would find out sooner rather than later. I wanted to end my genjutsu teaching method at that very moment, but of course, Danzo complained to the council and clan heads. While talking to them, he both claimed I was recklessly risking the lives and futures of the next generation of shinobi in the village and, at the same time, argued that we couldn’t stop and must move forward with my method for the safety and prosperity of the village.
I wanted to yank my hair out, listening to him speak. He made it so that if I were successful, he would say it was just luck on my part and that my reckless actions endangered the kids, but if I failed, it would all be my fault and that he had tried to warn us, but everyone else was blinded by greed. Dam if I do, dam if I don’t.
I sat in my office at the hospital reading a book on child-rearing. The most recent one I had bought from a traveling merchant who claimed the book was from the land of water. I had already read all the ones in the village I could easily get my hands on. Half the information was basic information, and a quarter of it was actively wrong, but I could not disproof the small tidbits of new information that were interesting. The information was skewed with the idea that the children raised by the person reading the book would be fishermen or adjacent fields and were raising the child with that goal in mind. Some interesting aspects but not anything actively useful.
The main reason I read the book was to cure my boredom while waiting. I had a meeting booked, but many of the chunin and joiners I talked to had a terrible habit of keeping me waiting. If they booked a meeting with me, they would get to my office on time and try to keep things brief and professional. Not staying any longer than they had to and finding an excuse to leave once they got what they wanted. When I booked a meeting with them, they took their time, made a halfhearted excuse, and put just enough effort into satisfying me. I suspected I knew the cause, but I didn’t want to say it, which left me in my office waiting for my appointment, which was already coming to 15 minutes past when we were scheduled to start.
A knock came from my door roughly just before the 15-minute mark, likely on purpose by the one on the other side of the door.
“Enter.”
The door creaked open, revealing a join with a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry for keeping you waiting, Amon. I was training my students, and the time escaped me.”
“Oh, no problem at all. I’m glad you are safe. Was there a reason you wanted to make this appointment with me?”
“Hmm, what do you mean? You called me for this meeting.”
“I did!? I’m sorry, but my schedule is a little hectic right now. Could you remind me what your name was again?” The man's face twitched in annoyance. It was a little petty of me to pretend I forgot what the meeting was about and potentially counterproductive, but I felt I could get away with it.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Yūki Minazuki, A Jonin who’s currently training a team.”
“Oh yes, my apologies. Sorry, I have been busy with…well, what haven’t I been doing? I wanted to pick your brain a little about the experiences you have had as a teacher to a Genin team. The team you are working with now is not your first right. ”
“Uh, yes and no. My team has had members come and go over the years. Some fell in battle while others I deemed not ready to be a ninja, and I sent them back to the academy. ”
“Hmm, that is a rare quality in a teacher.”
“Is it, In what way?”
“Well, brave, obviously. Most ninjas in your position would just ignore the shortcomings of your students because they simply don’t care or try to save face for the academy or themself and just teach their students what they lack or teach around their shortcomings.”
“Oh, ah, yes. Some of my students in the past were just not ready to have a headband yet. No one hates it more than me, but there was nothing to be done.”
“I have to say I’m impressed. Many people claim they understand and represent the values of the village, but you walk the walk. One of this village's main founding principles was to avoid children dying in war and the fact that you could see that is worthy of praise. These kids, who sadly are just not ready for shinobi life, are not just a danger to themselves but to the village and to others who rely on them.”
I noticed Yūki getting increasingly uncomfortable and annoyed while I was talking, but I thought he just didn’t take compliments well. “I have to say, if Sakumo sensei had been as strict with me as I suspect you are with your students, I doubt I would have made it.”
“Probably not.” He laughed nervously with a hit of malice in his voice.
“Well, I wanted to pick your brain a little; tell me, what would you consider to be red flags others might miss when raising a young Shinobi?”
“Arrogance for starters. If one of my students thinks he knows everything, it is bad for the team dynamics.”
“Hmm, Okay.” I nodded my head and started writing down notes in a notepad. “Arrogance, could you elaborate on that a little? An example would help.”
“Making decisions for others and claiming they did something for their team's benefit. Even when others didn’t ask them to and failed a mission because of it .”
“Hmm, and just to be clear, you didn’t send your students back to the academy because they failed a mission but because they…disagreed with a teammate.”
“Arrogant, and they lacked maturity. They thought they were better than others because they got lucky a few times.”
“Team synergy, lack of personal maturity, and overestimating their own skill.” I wrought down. “Apologies, but could these qualities not have been worked out by taking your students on a few low-tier missions? I mean, there's a reason why we give warehouse organizing and just running large errands as missions in the first place.”
“It runs deeper than that. They don’t understand the first thing about being a ninja. They make rash decisions based only on what they believe in and step on everybody’s toes while they do it. Someone needed to take them down a peg.”
“The ninja thing can be taught at the academy, but you are not confident in your ability to instruct them on simple ninja knowledge. Also the toe thing and down a peg part I feel like could be resolved with a few team training days.”
“Being so arrogant that they don’t even remember people.”
“This Arrogant thing is a big hang-up with you. Do you think it has something to do with the school curriculum?”
“You don’t remember me at all?”
I took a moment to look up from my notes and saw Minazuki glaring at me, looking like he was about to lunge. “Is this about just now? I promise I am a busy man. The village has me spread thin. If I offended you, I promise I meant nothing by it.” I lied, though it was weird he was so upset by me pretending I forgot I scheduled a meeting.
“You attacked me and my teammates while we were unarmed, and now you claim you don’t even recognize me.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t even been in the village for any real length of time for years. When would I have the chance to attack anybody.”
“Before the war, you jumped me and my teammates and got away with it just because you got lucky and managed to become a guardian.”
“That’s simply not possible. The only time I was ever in a serious fight with a group of Leaf shinobi was when…” It finally clicked with me what was going on. Although I don’t recognize Minazuki specifically, there was only one time he could be referring to.“…you.”
“Yeah, now you remember, we were minding our own business, and you-ack.” Minazuki failed to complete his sentence with my hand wrapped around his throat. Lifting him from the chair, I threw him through the closed door, shattering it. His body slammed against the wall in the hallway.
“Minazuki, you pathetic excuse of a ninja. The fact that you still have that headband is an insult to all who came before you. I have half a mind to take it from you now, but it is not my place to make such decisions.” Minazuki tried to stand up but could only manage to get on his hands and knees. I lost my temper and used too much strength. “Get out of my hospital through a door before I send you out through a wall.”
Minazuki crawled/stumbled away, clinging to the wall for support. As he slinked away, I noticed the patients and hospital staff staring at me with shocked expressions on their faces. “He was late to our appointment,” I explained. As one, they all looked at the clocks in the room to check the time.
“Sigh, Amon, you must work on your bedside manner.” A voice behind me said this, and I recognized it immediately. Turning around, I found my old teammate and now Uchiha clan head, Fugaku. Standing just behind him, looking around his father's leg with a curious expression on his face, was his son, Itachi.