While Anko believed that her genin wouldn’t give her incorrect information, she already held some healthy skepticism that the joint exercise wasn’t just for the purpose of training and that Masumoto Shohei was trying to make a name for himself by using her as a stepping-stone. Thinking about a situation from both sides of the spectrum was always helpful for analysis.

It angered her very much so, but logic and reasoning prevailed. Even if it was true, she wasn’t that worried about it. She understood that her reputation as the Snake’s student would haunt her for life—but people liked to forget that the Snake was one of the Legendary Sannin and she was his student. As ill-fated as their relationship was, he had taught her his techniques. If they thought she was some small fry that could be swept aside, they were sorely mistaken.

She always welcomed the opportunity to present a feast to her babies.

Anko had already thought of a way to handle the situation, but it seemed that Takuma had his own thoughts. She was interested to know what little scheme he’d cooked in his head. He had ruined the chances of Team-9 getting on the precursor mission thanks to the stunt he pulled with the Hidden Steam’s Benzou—and she was mighty displeased to know that he had been in contact with Benzou behind her back.

It wasn’t that he had talked with Benzou, which pissed her off, but the fact that he hadn’t told her about his involvement.

She was of the mind to shut Takuma down and take control of the situation as a punishment, but she decided to let him have a go. Going behind her back was his first offense, and she was willing to give people a second chance.

Her five genin were a good group of shinobi. They had bright futures ahead of them.

Iori had a good head on her shoulder, and Anko was sure she had what it took to become a chunin through her fuinjutsu. The girl had a prosperous future like most skilled fuin-nin.

Communication wasn’t Rikku’s strong suit, which meant it would take her more effort to rise up as she couldn’t market herself properly, but if she kept improving, Anko was willing to bet that she would be one day made chunin and put on a strike team under a jonin’s command.

There was nothing to be said about Kameko, she was the little miss of the Taketori clan and had enough political sway behind her that chunin was guaranteed—but that same sway could tie her down to the chunin rank and her further progress would solely depend if she could set herself apart. As she was now, ‘Jonin Taketori Kameko’ was simply a pipe dream.

Anko knew that Daiki would leave the service and return to being a civilian one day. His mindset wouldn’t take him far as a shinobi and he would promptly switch to being an overpaid bodyguard for some rich mook—but that wasn’t a bad thing.

Then there was Takuma. Everything about him painted a picture in Anko’s mind. The boy was special. Not because he had some gift that made him valuable. It was the little things. It was as though he was carefully molded into being the ideal image of a shinobi. Lord Third Hokage was called the God of Shinobi and was the ideal in the minds of many. They wanted to be like him, mimic him in the hopes that they could achieve a fraction of what he had.

But in Anko’s mind, the boy before her was so much closer to the ideal. The Hokage shone too brightly. Jonin, like the Copy Ninja and the Green Beast, had too strong of a presence. She had met the young Uchiha prodigy once, and all her senses whispered danger when he was just seated and silently sipping tea—she could only imagine what would happen if he had his eyes on her. Even Orochimaru, as much as he wanted to hide it, oozed malice that prickled—and his two peers, the Slug Princess and the Toad Sage, had similar problems.

Perhaps that was what happened when shinobi stood at those high stages.

But Takuma showed nothing. He didn’t stand out and looked like an overworked grunt who couldn’t catch a break half the time. Even with those scars of his—that by all right should make him look menacing—he seemed harmless—until he didn’t. That lack of danger from him was what made him dangerous. People weren’t cautious until they had a reason to be and Takuma didn’t usually give people a reason to be cautious against him—so when he became a threat, it came as a massive surprise..

She had seen him fight Kameko and Rikku; both seemed like they could win until the last moment before they lost, and the conclusion seemed natural. In his fight against Rikku, Anko was so taken aback by her instincts, yelling at her that she needed to stop the fight or Rikku would be dead.

There was no reason for Takuma to kill Rikku, but seeing him atop her with a kunai, Anko genuinely thought he would for a moment.

When she found that Takuma had given Benzou the idea for the raid, she was displeased, but she was also alarmed that a few words from a genin had led to something as big as the Gojiro Gold Mine operation with several jonin, dozens of chunin, and hundreds of genin involved—and it had happened just like Takuma wanted it to happen. Takuma had told her that he didn’t think it would lead anywhere—but then it did—so was it intentional… or was it all by chance, as Takuma said.

She did not know but she was sure that Takuma would go a long way as a shinobi… if he managed to stay alive long enough.

Anko returned her attention back to Masumoto.

“As we discussed, as this is our first joint exercise, we will start with tag team sparring today,” Masumoto said with a smile. “Only one member from each teams is allowed to spar at a time. If they lose they’re replaced by one of their teammates and the spar continues. You can’t stop sparring unless you lose—meaning no forfeiting. We—Chunin Mitarashi and I—will be recording everyone’s performance and the people with the worst from both teams will be punished.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

He looked at Anko and she nodded. They had decided that a tag team format spar would be a good exercise for both teams. Even though it was solo sparring, it was a team exercise if the teams strategized.

She turned to her team. “Decide who will go in first. Study your opponents and choose the matchups smartly. This is training; I want all of you to fight, so don’t try to sit Iori and Daiki out.... Who’s going first?”

Takuma turned to ask Kameko. “May I?” he asked.

Kameko thought for a moment before giving him the nod.

Takuma stepped closer to Anko and whispered in her ear. “We have an audience. He clearly invited people to watch…”

Anko turned her head to see groups of people walking toward them with a merry pep in their step as though they were about to watch an entertaining show. She glanced at Masumoto, who was conversing with his genin as though clueless to the gathering gallery.

“Then you better win,” she said; a dangerous smile crept onto her face.

Takuma nodded. He turned away before facing Anko again; he hesitated for a moment before asking. “I will be embarrassing Masumoto Shohei—him directly. That’s fine with you, right?”

Anko wondered what he meant, but she gave him the go ahead anyway.

She volunteered to referee the spars and stood between Takuma and Yuka, a new genin to Camp Banana. Takuma raised his hand to form the Seal of Confirmation that Yuka mimicked.

“Start.”

Yuka jumped back, putting distance between her and Takuma, who remained in his place. He didn’t pull out a kunai, which surprised Anko. She had sparred against him and seen enough of his spars against Rikku to know that he grabbed a kunai at the start of the fight. She was surprised again when Takuma approached Yuka measuredly. He either waited for his opponent to make a move or charged them at the first moment—this was once again different from his usual.

Yuka allowed Takuma to close the distance and then rushed him, abruptly changing from cautious to aggressive. Takuma didn’t look surprised and received her effortlessly. She struck out fast and firm, aiming high for his head but Takuma kept pace and blocked all of her attacks .

Seeing that she failed to get him by surprise, Yuka fell back. Takuma, however, didn’t allow that and moved forward with quick steps. He struck with a quick side-kick that Yuka blocked. Anko waited for Yuka to be blown back by the augmented blow, but it didn’t happen. She looked at Takuma strangely; it was the perfect opportunity and he had more than enough time to prepare it.

‘Why is he fighting weird?’ she thought.

Yuka opted to take a stand and confront Takuma. She grabbed a kunai and pushed Takuma back, who once again didn’t equip a kunai, electing instead to dodge Yuka’s sharp blade play.

It had rained in the morning, leaving puddles in the fields. Their footwork sprayed standing water and dew, quickly drenching their pants. The sound of splashing water grew louder and chaotic as the fight picked up but Yuka wasn’t able to nick a hair on Takuma’s body.

He grabbed her arm, twisted her wrist to disarm her, and then headbutted her nose. She stumbled back, dazed, and he lightly kicked the back of her knee to force her down, running back and smashing a spinning kick into the side of her face.

The gallery cheered and hooted at the solid hit.

Anko glanced back and saw that more were joining the audience. Her eye went to Masumoto; displeasure flashed across his face, but he got his expression under control in a moment.

Yuka hit the ground and scampered back in an attempt to put some distance between them. When she tried to get up, she found the sharp tip of her dropped kunai held a few centimeters from her throat.

Takuma looked to Anko, waiting for her decision.

“Next,” she said to Masumoto’s team, who’d picked a genin called Akio..

Unlike Anko, Masumoto actively advised his team. He gazed at Takuma and pushed one of his genin forward. As Yuka walked back, Masumoto gave her a disapproving shake of his head and said something that made her face drop.

“Just a reminder, the use of ninjutsu is allowed,” Takuma said to his new opponent. He threw Yuka’s kunai away and raised his bare fists up. “You can use anything you want.”

Akio was taken aback but pulled his hands up.

Anko smiled. She could tell what Akio was thinking. He was wondering if Takuma had reminded him of ninjutsu because he was going to use ninjutsu during the fight. A few words from Takuma had made Akio cautious and on the lookout.

Takuma very slowly stepped close to Akio and started with an intentionally telegraphed jab to Akio’s guard. The strike was so light that it confused Akio, who struck out with a cross that Takuma effortlessly slapped aside and countered with a lightning-quick cross straight to the chest, bypassing Akio’s half-guard. The cross tapped Akio’s chest, once again not doing any real damage.

Akio frowned, anger flaring in his eyes. “Are you making fun—”

He wasn’t able to complete his sentence as Takuma lightly kicked his calf with no real force behind it. Akio was so stunned that he forgot his anger for a moment before it flooded back in full force.

“I’m going to fuck you up,” Akio spat heatedly and charged Takuma, who skipped back with a butterfly’s grace.

Akio raged after him like a bull, with the intention to harm, each strike carrying the full force of his body. Takuma was the mirror opposite, the picture of calm. His defense was dexterous and he was agile on his feet—like he did with Yuka he evaded most of Akio’s rush and blocked what he couldn’t with a practiced ease.

Takuma continued to tap Akio with weak punches, striking through and around Akio’s guard. The onlookers laughed every time Takuma managed to get a tap in, openly making fun of Akio, who only got angrier the more Takuma played with him. It was like Takuma was putting on a show—this was entertainment, not training. Akio was the bull, and Takuma, the matador, was doing his best to anger him more and more.

It was so unlike Takuma that Anko couldn’t figure out his aim.

Takuma’s core combat philosophy was to do hard damage and end fights as quickly as possible—no matter the execution, He aimed to do enough damage and pain that the opponent wouldn’t want to fight. His augmented strikes landed where it would hurt the most, his kunai cut where it would bleed most. While most tried to do just enough damage to make their opponent surrender willingly, Takuma very much preferred to beat his opponent within an the inch of their lives, giving them one choice: surrender.

Akio threw a kunai at Takuma’s face from a very short distance. Takuma caught it, and in the same continuous, fluid motion, he flung it back at Akio’s legs. The kunai didn’t draw blood and only lightly ripped Akio’s pants at the inner thigh, very close to his crotch.

Akio flushed as he glanced at the spectators, who laughed like they were at a comedy show. He turned his eyes back at Takuma, who raised his hands and shrugged.

“Ninjutsu, c’mon.”

Akio jumped back to put enough distance between them and then weaved hand seals for ninjutsu.

Unbothered, Takuma took out a shuriken and launched it toward Akio. The shuriken flew so fast that Akio was staggered. He abandoned the hand seals and skipped to the side, where another two shuriken landed next to his feet making him to a lurching stop. Three more shuriken passed by him, leaving rips in his clothes, and not breaking skin.

The next moment, Takuma was before Akio with a kunai in his hand. He tapped the shaken Akio’s face with the flat of the kunai.

Takuma turned to Anko and said, “Next?”

Anko snorted and rolled her eyes at him.

“Next.”