Iori was in the best condition she had been in a while. She had woken up completely awake without a hint of fatigue, and the delightful shower she had taken afterward had freshened her up like a spring flower. Even the rain, which brought along the miserable humidity, couldn’t bring her mood down.
“Kameko! Rikku! We are going to be late if we don’t leave now!” Iori shouted from the kitchen as she removed the large stock pot filled to the brim with boiling water from the fire. Boiling water before consumption was mandatory in Camp Banana because of the season and their proximity to the forest—they couldn’t afford disease to spread in the camp.
With Team-9 finally having five genin on its roster, Anko had asked for a team dinner to welcome Takuma—it wasn’t anything special, just the team sitting together for one meal.
Every chunin ran their team differently. Some chunin leads mandated that their teams ate their meals together, maintained their gear together, and trained together, all in the name of team building. Anko was on the other end of the scale—she didn’t care how they spent their day as long as they performed in the individual and team exercises she conducted frequently—but if the team failed, they were made to go through grueling training to correct their mistakes.
Anko’s team was motivated by their abhorrence towards her training to function together as a team.
It was a simple, hateful, but effective tactic, as expected from the Snake’s student.
“Let’s go,” Iori said when Kameko and Rikku came down from their respective rooms.
As they were leaving the house, Iori noticed the bandage wrapped around Rikku’s hand. “Injured yourself during training? You should be more careful, you know,” she said.
“She sparred against Takuma this morning. Went to him first thing in the morning and issued a challenge and all,” said Kameko.
“It was a good spar,” Rikku nodded as if satisfied with what had happened in the morning.
“You were too rash,” Kameko shook her head.
This was the first time Iori had heard about that. She hadn’t met either of the girls today because of her sleep schedule. She sighed as she gazed at her two teammates, “You know what this looks like, right? He has been here barely a few days, and two of his teammates have already picked a fight with him. I haven’t talked to him much, either. Daiki is probably the only one who has given a proper welcome; let’s hope the big bag of muscles got along with him and it’s not totally hopeless,” Iori sighed.
They hadn’t known each other for a long time, but Iori believed she had a good grasp of her teammates, which was why she was worried that the relations with their newest member were already on the rocks. She was afraid that their first impressions were beyond what they could recover from.
Kameko was too proud, Rikku was a muscle head without a shred of tact, and Daiki was nice but the man was too self-absorbed with a hint of narcissism hidden under all the niceties. There was a great chance that they might end up unknowingly isolating Takuma.
“Now, I want both of you to listen to me carefully,” she addressed the other girls. “Let’s be nice to Takuma, alright? He’s new. We have to make him feel welcome. At least for today, let’s not argue with him if you disagree. I want us to get along with him.”
Kameko looked indifferent, while Rikku shrugged.
Iori felt concerned, so she decided to be blunt. “I don’t want to participate in Anko’s punishment training. If he doesn’t get along with us, we don’t know what she might do if she isn’t satisfied with our teamwork.”
As expected, being blunt was the right choice, as Kameko and Rikku showed they understood the gravity of the situation.
They reached the mess hall. The boys and Anko were already there. The girls picked up their plates and loaded them with slop. Iori sighed as she looked at her food; it was edible with the primary focus on nutrients, but that’s all it was—if nothing else, she missed her home because of the food.
“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Anko was high energy, as usual.
“There’s no fun in this slop,” Iori sighed.
Anko laughed. “It’s all in the vibes—in the vibes!”
Iori glanced at Takuma. He had a small smile on his face as he raised his glass of juice. She could see traces of fatigue on his face, and he was still wearing a weighted vest. There was a reason why none of the Team-9 individually trained with Anko. She wondered how long Takuma would last. However, seeing him being careful with how he moved his hands because of the wrist weights was amusing as heck.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Iori. How did you get into fuinjutsu? Did you aim for it from the beginning?” asked Takuma.
“Hmm? Not really. I guess it's more like I fell into it,” Iori set down her chopsticks. “My first contact with fuinjutsu was from a friend of a friend. My friend wanted to learn how to put together a basic storage seal, and she asked me if I wanted to tag along. I said, sure. And well, then I guess it just clicked…”
After that, she found a retired shinobi who had opened a fuinjutsu workshop and officially entered an apprenticeship. She had been receiving training at the shop until the conscription order arrived.
“That so. I was wondering if you could give me some tips. I, too, only know how to make a basic storage seal, but I’m not really good at it. I fail more than half of my attempts,” said Takuma.
‘A chance!’ Iori’s eyes shined. “For sure, let’s compare our free time and make a plan. I’m not sure if I will be a good teacher, but there’s no harm in trying.” She felt happy that she had made a connection and was satisfied that Takuma was the one to initiate—it showed that he was still willing to get along with the team.
Takuma turned to Rikku. “We didn’t get to talk in the morning, Rikku. Your strength was surprising, to say the least… it was for the first time that I felt I got a taste of my own medicine,” he laughed. “My body stings in the places where you hit me.”
Daiki stepped into the conversation. “Traditionally, chakra augmentations are a rare class of jutsu. Initially, during your fight with Miss Kameko, I assumed you possessed strength similar to Miss Rikku. I didn’t think you were using chakra to augment your strikes. It was a fascinating experience.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Well, you’re not completely incorrect in your initial assumption,” Takuma spoke. “My augmentations depend on the durability of my body. I assume you spend most of your training time with body conditioning?” he asked Rikku, who nodded. “I do the same, and I could’ve gone the same route as Rikku and spent time on my natural strength, but I found augmentations earlier in my development, and my focus shifted to durability and endurance. Personally, even without the augmentation, I still hit harder than most people.”
It was then that Anko chimed in. She said, “Unlike ninjutsu and genjutsu, most taijutsu don’t have any chakra component. But it would be wrong to say that chakra has no stake in taijutsu. The chakra inside of us nourishes our bodies. The more you train or abuse your body, the more chakra will seep into your muscles, bones, tendons and transform them. Chakra reacts to what you’re trying to accomplish.
“If you’re training for strength, chakra would react to it.” She pointed at Rikku, “She trains to hit harder and harder, so her chakra reacts to it and develops her body in that direction.” Anko pointed her chopsticks at Takuma. “From what you have told me, your conditioning training is balanced with a tilt towards endurance and durability, so that’s how your chakra would elevate your body.” She turned to Kameko. “Her kenjutsu benefits from agility and dexterity, and she trains for it, and her chakra aids her gain more in that direction.” Sitting beside her, Daiki got poked by her chopsticks in his triceps. “He wanted bigger muscles, and his chakra responded to that partial cosmetic desire, and even though you don’t need big muscles for strength, he grew bigger, but despite his size, he is weaker than our petite Rikku.”
‘This is good, this is good!’ thought Iori.
More shinobi than not didn’t prefer to talk about their combat skill set and style, thinking that they would be giving out their secrets. They didn’t even open up to teammates, and the only way to get familiarity with someone’s combat style was to spar against them and learn through experience. The method was flawed and inefficient as people held back during spars, and it took ages to get a decent measure of a person’s skills.
However, Takuma was actively speaking about his technique and having a discussion about it. Anko was to be praised for expanding on the conversation. But, it showed that Takuma was investing in the team by opening himself up in front of the entire team. It was an invitation to everyone that this was the chance to get to know him.
“… I heard a little from Arisu about what you guys did in the Police Force, but I never did get a clear picture of your responsibilities,” Kameko spoke to Takuma.
Iori looked between the two ex-classmates. She was aware that the two didn’t get off to a good start, and from what she had heard from Anko, they weren’t on good terms. Which was why Iori was proud that Kameko was the one to initiate a conversation. Moreover, it was an interesting topic as it involved the Uchiha’s Leaf Military Police Force— Uchiha and the Hidden Leaf—two topics that interested all who had never been to the Hidden Leaf.
‘Now, don’t you disappoint me, boy,’ Iori turned to Takuma.
“Narcotics Taskforce. As the name implies, we were a small group inside the Organized Crime department who handled drug-related crimes,” Takuma started.
‘Bingo!’
“I had this idea about a dedicated team who only handled narcotics. That way, they could develop a specialty toward a niche of crime, thus increasing competence and efficiency, which was lacking when the cases were being handled disjointedly. When I pitched the idea, Arisu joined me. Pretty sure the entire thing would’ve failed if she wasn’t with me,” said Takuma.
Takuma told them about what the Narcotics Taskforce did. Arresting people possessing drugs, catching street-level drug dealers, shutting down suppliers, and restricting the flow of drugs into the Hidden Leaf.
“… and while most of our cases dealt with psychoactive drugs, we are also responsible for combat drugs like soldier pills and other dangerous drugs and restrictive ingredients,” he said.
“They were quite popular and successful back home,” Anko smiled in praise.
“… I wouldn’t say that,” Takuma shook his head.
“Now, now, don’t be so humble,” Iori chuckled.
“No, it’s nothing like that,” said Takuma. “I’ll be the first one to admit that the reason I pushed for the Narcotics Taskforce was purely selfish. I was an outsider in the Uchiha’s kingdom; to progress my career there, I needed a way to claim ground, make myself stand out, and gain achievements. I knew that I would need to work harder than the people with legacies to get the same recognition— that was the reason why I started the Narcotics Taskforce—nothing more, nothing less. It was simply a way to climb the ladder.
“… I didn’t really care about the cause—but when you come face to face with the victims on a daily basis. When you look at them in the eye, see how they live, hear their plight and of the people around them, it’s… difficult to stay unaffected.”
“Aren’t they just addicts? They ruined their lives by themselves,” Kameko said with displeasure.
“That’s the problem,” said Takuma. “People who fall into drug addiction are ruining their lives; not only that, but they also make the lives of the people around them miserable. Then shouldn’t we as a society try to raise these people who can’t fall anymore instead of condemning them to lives full of misery?”
Kameko didn’t say anything in return.
Iori didn’t know if it was because she had asked Kameko not to disagree or if it was something else.
Takuma leaned back into his chair. The moment of silence on the table was filled by the chatter in the Mess.
Takuma continued, “Sure, we brought a lot of important players to justice, but what about the victims? The addicts. The children and teens who got influenced into joining the trade from a young age. And to a degree, the small street-level dealers who did it because they couldn’t see any other choice.... I sent most of them to prison, plantations, and mines because it was the law, and I followed it.”
“Is there anything wrong with that?” asked Anko.
“It’s the law, so legally, no. But morally? Well, it sure didn’t feel good all the time,” said Takuma. “One of my long-term plans was to bring in some change into the law and education. Rehabilitation of the victims and education from a young age to educate the coming generation.” He sighed. “I thought I would start on the plans when I made chunin and had a little weight to throw around… I should’ve started those plans from day one, even if I had no grounds to promote them… I regret it nevertheless.”
Iori watched Takuma. The few times she had seen him, he was like most of the combat-forward shinobi she had seen—straight back, squared shoulders, and chin raised. But right now, his back was curved, his shoulders hunched, and his chin was pointing down. And she was sure it wasn’t because of the weighted gear he was lugging around.
“What now, then?” Rikku spoke up. “Maybe you can do that when you go back home.”
Iori closed her eyes. ‘Rikku…’ She had no idea what happened in the Leaf Military Police Force, but if Takuma were in a position as important as Kameko and Anko had made it out to be, then he wouldn’t be here on the border region of an allied country, fighting a war against a trade partner nation.
Unexpectedly, Takuma smiled,
“I don’t need to. I have given my dreams to the team I built from the ground up.” He looked at Kameko. “Our mutual friend Arisu shares my vision, and I think she and the team will achieve my dream in my place…. Crap, that sounds like a ‘death flag,’” Takuma laughed.
The conversation might have gone down in energy, but it came right back up due to Anko, and the group rode on her energy till the end of the dinner.
The boys and girls split up and returned to their homes.
Kameko and Rikku walked forward while Iori and Anko tailed behind.
“So?” Anko asked.
Iori glanced at her chunin lead for a moment before starting, “He knew what he was doing. He wanted to build a rapport with the team, and acted in a way to facilitate it. It feels good to know that he is someone who can read the room.”
“What about the thing about the addicts?”
Iori pursed her lips. “It was either a genuine conversation, or he is really good at making people feel positively towards him.” The story had everything from a flawed hero as a start, a sad middle, to a hopeful end. “Or maybe it was both of them—truths and half lies make for great tools.”
“So, he’s good at talking. Let’s see how he will be on the field,” said Anko.
“You mean?”
“We got a mission.”