The young man walked unhurriedly along the road to Training Ground 7. His hair shimmered silver in the sunlight. One eye was concealed behind a Konoha headband, while the other squinted blissfully at the sun. Despite the jonin's good mood, he looked slightly worse for wear. No bandages remained on his body, but he held a cane in one hand, occasionally leaning on it as he walked. Not that he particularly needed it — he had no leg injuries — but if there was an opportunity to delay the moment of meeting his future team, why not play up the "wounded after a dangerous mission" shinobi angle for a little while?
Like many other operatives, Kakashi frequently fled the hospital long before his discharge date. This time around, however, the Copy Ninja had taken a proper beating from an unfamiliar bald young man.
Remarkable. One slap — and I'm out cold, he thought. Lucky I managed to reinforce the anticipated point of impact with chakra in time. Though, hm, even that didn't help…
Yes, nothing had helped. Not the Sharingan, not the instincts that had saved him countless times, not the experience of battles. He had made a mistake — he had relied too heavily on Genjutsu. Illusions had proved useless against this strange shinobi named Saitama. The Chidori had only scorched his shirt, leaving the body unharmed. Kakashi had thought he was buying his former colleagues the time needed to prepare the barrier, and that the intruder would be captured. But what a surprise it was when, a couple of days later, he learned that despite all the ANBU's efforts, this Saitama had shattered the barrier with a single jutsu and sent his opponents flying. On top of that, he had effectively forced the Hokage to escort him into the village for a conversation.
"Man, this guy is a monster," Kakashi muttered. "I'd rather not run into him in a fight again…"
The jonin approached Training Ground 7, where he had arranged to meet his charges. Two days had already passed since his discharge from the hospital, and Hatake had decided to schedule the "exam" for Team 7 on this very day. He had chosen to notify his freshly minted students in advance via shadow clones, since personally going to each of them was, frankly, far too much trouble.
Training Ground 7, assigned to his new team, was an excellent practice area for developing the basic skills required of young shinobi. Like many other "genin" grounds, it featured a relatively small forest with large trees — for training vertical surface walking — a narrow stream for practicing water-surface movement, and a fairly spacious area for sparring, technique drilling, tactical maneuver practice, and so on. In principle, several genin teams could train here simultaneously, but this option was rarely taken advantage of — instructors preferred to run their little shinobi larvae through their paces as a trio right up until the chunin exams.
Kakashi breathed in the warm air, catching a light fragrance of grass and the leaves of giant trees. The weather was wonderful today. Not a cloud in the sky. Birds singing. Idyllic. He'd love to slip away to a beach somewhere and settle in with a Jiraiya book. But no. Duty was duty.
Well, I've had my rest — time to go be a babysitter… the thought drifted through his mind, after which he strode briskly toward the brunette and pink-haired kunoichi standing near the wooden posts, his cane tapping cheerfully on the ground.
"Hello, everyone!" the man announced in a bright voice.
"You're late!" Sakura cried, snapping out of her thoughts.
The little Uchiha gave no reaction to the jonin's arrival — only a quiet snort.
"Now, now, Sakura — I'm not quite at full strength after a dangerous mission. I only just got out of the hospital," Kakashi said, hanging his head. There had been little public discussion of what had happened in the forest more than a week ago. The official version was as follows: the Copy Ninja had returned from a dangerous S-rank mission, where he had encountered several missing-nin. However, all of ANBU was already buzzing with the news that Kakashi, along with the rest of the strike squad, had been beaten up by some bald shinobi.
The girl's gaze dropped to the cane. For a moment, sympathy flickered across her face. But looking again at their instructor's "eye-smile," she realized the man was most likely mocking them or trying to come up with an utterly ridiculous excuse for his unpunctuality.
"You were six hours late!" Sakura continued to heat up. "Couldn't you have left a little earlier?!"
"Maa-maa… Well, there's a reason for that," he bowed his head slightly. "You see, a black cat crossed my path, and since I'm on a cane, I had to take a very long detour."
"Grrr…" escaped the small kunoichi.
Kakashi cleared his throat and was about to begin talking when he noticed that someone was absent.
"Ahem… And where's the blond?"
Sakura sighed, folding her arms across her chest, then said:
"Naruto said you'd probably be late and went to train. For once that idiot was right."
"Hm?" Hatake raised an eyebrow. This was, to his surprise, a first. He usually arrived dead last. Moreover, it would be extremely interesting to learn where little Uzumaki had gotten information about his "punctuality."
Not that Kakashi was a chronic latecomer. No — when it was necessary, he could arrive earlier than required: for serious missions, for jonin councils where genuinely important matters were to be discussed, for being summoned to the Hokage's office. No, it wasn't some kind of condition. It was much simpler. The thing was, Hatake simply didn't see the need to show up on time when there was no motivation, when there were no weighty reasons.
In this particular case, however, it was less his personal whim and more an educational moment for the genin. Fray their nerves a little, knock them off balance, try to sow discord in the team and see what came of it.
Previous Academy graduates who had been unfortunate enough to end up as his students had been cut immediately. And the root of the problem there hadn't been an inability to work as a team, or a willingness to betray their comrades. Not at all. Children from different class years were assigned to him — complete strangers to each other. It was simply impossible to function in a team without knowing your comrade's capabilities. And when you had a day or two to get acquainted — if that — there was no question of teamwork. Let alone strong friendship or camaraderie. Such bonds simply didn't have time to form. If you then added psychological pressure and a few psychological tricks on top of that, the result was entirely predictable.
Many believed Hatake was strict because of his past. Because of his losses. That he didn't want to take on responsibility again and lose someone. Some thought he was simply too strict and demanding because of his particular worldview, at the center of which stood mutual support and fellowship. Perhaps to some degree all of that was true. But the main reason Kakashi had never become a fully committed instructor turned out to be simple laziness. Who wanted to mentor little brats? Especially such untalented ones? At six years old he had already made chunin, and at their age he had earned jonin.
"Oh, you've finally shown up, one-eyed sensei?"
Kakashi turned toward the voice. He finally saw the third member of Team 7.
Naruto strolled out of the forest without hurrying.
The blond's skin was tanned, his hair a shade lighter than usual, and his knuckles were roughed up.
"Naruto-baka, how dare you talk to Kakashi-sensei like that?" Sakura protested. "And where have you been wandering?!"
"Hey hey, Sakura-chan," the blond started to explain, "I was training nearby and keeping half an eye on you the whole time, so I'm not late…"
"Ahem-ahem," Kakashi cut him off. "I think since everyone's here, we can begin. So — the test—"
"Wait, Sensei," Naruto raised his hand, deciding to show some respect. "You're apparently our teacher, but we don't really know anything about you. When I came home I only found a note from you on my bed. Since we're all here, maybe you could introduce yourself?"
Hatake looked over the trio. Seeing the curiosity in their gazes, he couldn't not satisfy it. Nodding to himself, he settled on the grass and beckoned the genin over with a hand. They unanimously planted themselves on the ground and prepared to listen to their teacher's words.
"Hm… Well then. My name is Hatake Kakashi. Jonin…"
Silence fell over Training Ground 7. The children perked up their ears, hoping to hear something impressive about their new teacher. But the pause stretched on, and the shinobi showed no sign of continuing.
"And," Naruto couldn't hold back. "Is that it? What about, you know… dreams, interests, things you like, things you don't like?…"
Kakashi raised his gaze skyward, studying the faint cirrus clouds.
"Dreams? Hm-m…" the jonin pondered, scratching his chin through his mask. "I honestly don't know. As for interests… Well, I have plenty of those, that's true. As for what I like and what I don't — I won't be telling you that," he finished unexpectedly.
A light breath of wind stirred the grass, and the training ground sank into silence again.
"Turns out all we learned was his name and rank…" Sakura muttered.
"Alright," Kakashi said. "Now it's your turn. Let's start with you." He nodded toward little Uzumaki.
Naruto smiled broadly, adjusting his headband. The headband had been stitched on one side — as though it had been cut through at some point. Kakashi mentally tutted at the boy's sloppiness. A headband is a shinobi's pride. Where on earth did he manage to damage it? the thought flickered through Hatake's mind.
"I'm Uzumaki Naruto," the blond began. "What I love most in the world is ramen. What I don't like is when everything hurts after training and you don't have the strength to make it to your bed. And my dream…"
The genin fell silent and frowned. Until recently he'd had a dream — to become Hokage, to make everyone respect him, to earn universal recognition, to become great. But since meeting the Master, a lot had changed.
"I don't have a dream," Sakura and Kakashi stared at him in bewilderment. The Uchiha only glanced sideways at him.
"But I have a goal that I will absolutely achieve," Uzumaki broke into a smile. "I'll become the greatest Hokage in history and the strongest shinobi in the world! That is my ninja way, dattebayo!"
At this declaration the little brunette gave a quiet snort. Sakura clicked her tongue in irritation but said nothing. The other children had already heard something of the sort before. They didn't take it seriously.
"Hm, how interesting," Kakashi barely murmured. The visible portion of his face expressed absolutely nothing. But from the skeptical gaze of his one visible eye, it was clear the blond's speech hadn't particularly impressed the jonin, and he immediately shifted his gaze to the pink-haired kunoichi. "What about you?"
"I'm Haruno Sakura," the girl said. "What do I like?… Or rather, who?…"
The girl's gaze drifted toward the object of her adoration. Her cheeks went pink, and a whole swirl of fantasies involving a certain brunette apparently raced through her mind.
"My dreams…" the kunoichi continued, growing redder by the moment and glancing sideways at the brooding Uchiha.
"I see," Kakashi concluded. This little girl had nothing but boys on her mind.
She probably won't amount to much. Though perhaps at her age it's perfectly normal… the thought flickered through Hatake's mind.
"Well, and what is it you don't like?" the jonin asked, for the sake of thoroughness.
"Naruto!" the girl declared emphatically.
Uzumaki wilted unhappily, and the jonin only nodded.
"Right, that leaves just you," Kakashi turned to the last remaining member of the Uchiha clan.
The boy seemed wrapped in an aura of gloom. Dark eyes peered sullenly from beneath his bangs. To Hatake, this look seemed somewhat ridiculous — but recalling what the boy had been through, he pushed the thought away. Maybe at least this one would have reasonable goals.
"My name is Uchiha Sasuke. There are many things I dislike, but nothing I particularly like. It may not be what you'd call a dream, but…" the boy's gaze dropped, and one of his fists clenched. "I must restore my clan… And kill a certain person."
Yeah, roughly what I expected… Hatake sighed inwardly.
After the Uchiha's admission, an awkward silence settled. Sakura stared in bewilderment at the object of her affection, who paid her not the slightest attention.
"Alright, I think that's enough," Kakashi began to rise slowly. The genin immediately followed. "What awaits you now is a test on which your future path as shinobi depends."
"Kakashi-sensei," Sakura interrupted, surfacing from her thoughts. "Your handout said we'd be doing survival training. But we already had plenty of training at the Academy. What's the point of all this?"
Hatake folded his arms across his chest.
"Did you eat?" the jonin asked, as though not having heard the small kunoichi's question.
The answer came in the form of angry glances from Sasuke and Sakura, and the protesting rumbling of their stomachs. Naruto, meanwhile, was trying not to draw attention to himself — he had only skimmed the handout and absorbed the most important parts: the time and day of the test, and that they needed to come armed. Accordingly, he had eaten a solid breakfast that morning. Though the memory of the succulent rabbit meat waiting for him at home in the refrigerator caused him to involuntarily begin producing saliva, swallowing frequently, while his insatiable stomach gave a demanding growl to match the sounds coming from his teammates' abdomens.
"Excellent," the shinobi smirked beneath his mask. "So you won't be getting sick. As for the training, Sakura — I misspoke. This is an incredibly difficult professional aptitude test with a sixty-six percent elimination rate. Of the twenty-seven Academy graduates, only nine will become full-fledged genin. The rest will return."
At those words Sakura went pale and swallowed nervously, then shot a frightened glance at the Uchiha. Sasuke only frowned harder, while Naruto simply grinned.
The blond's reaction seemed odd to Hatake, but he didn't give it much thought.
"Alright, we've lingered long enough," Kakashi said, pulling out an alarm clock. "So. I'm setting it for noon. Your task is as follows…"
He placed the alarm clock on one of the wooden posts.
"Here are two bells," the shinobi produced a pair of small bells from his pocket, which let out a faint chiming sound. "You must take them from me before noon. Anyone who fails the task goes without lunch. And as punishment, I'll tie them to one of these posts and eat right in front of them."
"Wha-a-a-at?" came from the direction of the genin, accompanied by indignant rumbling from their stomachs.
"Hold on — there are three of us, but only two bells!" Sakura was the first to spot the catch.
Kakashi squinted with delight and explained:
"Someone has to be left without lunch and disqualified. Whoever fails the test goes back to the Academy… Though you could all go back together."
He smirked, raising the bells to eye level again.
"You may use everything, including shuriken and kunai…" at that phrase Uzumaki broke into an anticipatory grin. "You must try to kill me in order to take the bells from me. Otherwise — you won't succeed."
"But, Sensei, that's dangerous!" Sakura objected.
"Heh-heh…" escaped from Naruto.
"What's so funny?" the girl shouted, turning to the boy.
"Nothing, Sakura-chan," the blond folded his hands behind his head, his eyes half-closing. "It's just that even if every single Academy graduate tried to kill our one-eyed sensei here, they still wouldn't manage it. Because he's a jonin. The gap between us is like the difference between a kitten and a tiger. I honestly have trouble imagining how you'd beat a jonin without using traps…"
The Uchiha gave a quiet snort, and Sakura's mouth dropped open in surprise. The girl genuinely didn't have a clear picture of what experienced shinobi were capable of. She had assumed that in the Academy they had already learned everything there was to learn, and that being a genin was a kind of practical application — of what they had mastered before graduating.
"Maa-maa, what a sharp boy," Hatake said approvingly. "Don't worry — I won't be fighting at full strength. Your objective is the bells. As I said — use everything you've learned. My objective is to find out who among you is worthy of walking the path of a shinobi, and who is a failure."
Sasuke and Sakura let out sighs of relief, their gazes drifting toward who they considered the least capable of the three. Naruto had the worst grades on the exams, and in practical lessons he hadn't shown standout results.
"I should warn you, though," Kakashi noted, "everyone they've given me as students has failed this test."
"What?!" Sakura's exclamation was joined by Naruto's, and by an indignant "Hm" from Sasuke.
"Heh-heh, alright. Enough talk," Hatake hung the bells on his belt. "Ready or not, the test begins right now…"
Sarutobi lit his pipe, studying the bald young man who had settled comfortably into the armchair across from him. Besides Saitama and the Hokage, Anko was also present in the office. The girl stood quietly in the corner, head bowed and lip bitten. She had already received a reprimand from the Third for negligence and for failing to keep track of her charge.
The picnic in the Red Zone had, surprisingly, passed without incident. The Hokage had cursed to himself at length when he found out that the bald hero and the Jinchuriki had simply decided to go hunting. The dangerous monsters were supposed to serve as excellent training material for Naruto. And the free game was supposed to let Saitama save on food expenses and accumulate the funds needed to buy a television. They had ended up in the Zone entirely by accident. Saitama had simply been practicing moving via the upper paths. Most likely it was during one of his less-than-graceful leaps that he had punched straight through the barrier erected by the Uzumaki masters.
Two days had passed since then. That was precisely how long Hiruzen had given the bald young man to think things over.
"Offers like this aren't turned down, Saitama," the Third said. "Especially since at the picnic you admitted yourself that you want to earn money. I see no reason to refuse. In this situation you have only gains. And on top of that, you'll receive an official status in the village."
"Gramps," Saitama drawled, "the title of some kind of jonin is cool, sure, and I do need the money, but… Maybe I could just be a temporary hired hand? And you give me some kind of assignment. That's what ninja do, right?"
"Hm…" Hiruzen frowned.
They had already been going back and forth for about half an hour without reaching an agreement. The Third wanted to establish Saitama in Konoha — to issue him papers and the rank of Special Jonin, effectively legalizing him as a citizen and shinobi of the Leaf. Because despite Root's assassination attempts having ceased, the Hokage didn't believe the young man would always manage to protect himself. It was impossible to remain vigilant twenty-four hours a day over an extended period of time. And Danzo would not abandon his plan. Persuasion had no effect on him. Shimura could hire outside contractors. When the bald hero let his guard down, he could be killed or delivered to Root's underground chambers. However, if Saitama became a full-fledged resident of Konoha, that could seriously tie the head of Root's hands — for if Saitama were brought into the Jonin Council and "introduced to society," eliminating the bald man within the village would be extremely difficult. Such a thing simply wouldn't go unnoticed. And beyond the walls he would be vigilant. At least, that was what Hiruzen was counting on.
Besides, eliminating an unknown person without papers or status was one thing — but eliminating a shinobi of one's own village, known to the clan heads, was quite another. Though recalling the Uchiha massacre, the Third wasn't certain of anything. Counting on Danzo's good judgment was not an option. All that remained was to hope in Saitama's strength and experience.
At this point, only certain ANBU operatives, the Third himself, and a few other individuals knew of the bald hero's existence — not counting Root operatives and Danzo. And this was a double-edged situation. On one hand, the newcomer's power level needed to be kept secret, because if he appeared in the Bingo Book, other hidden villages might attempt to eliminate or poach such a "weapon" — and unnecessary attention was the last thing the future bald jonin needed. On the other hand, Konoha's clans needed to know that the village had gained a fighter at least on the level of a Kage, if not surpassing one. For a new war would ignite before long, and the trump card of Saitama could prove a most unexpected surprise to their opponents.
"It's for your own good," Sarutobi urged the young man. "Why don't you want to settle in Konoha?"
"Gramps, you're missing the point," the young man shook his head unhappily. "I want to settle in, but…" he stopped mid-sentence.
In his world, Saitama had been a hero. He saved people, killed monsters and gods, brought down villains. Yes, he had been bored — but he had been needed by someone. His hobby — heroics — had helped others. Here, he simply didn't know what to do with himself beyond "raising" Naruto. Leaping around trees and following someone else's orders held no appeal. The young man considered it a pointless occupation, since it wasn't saving anyone and it wasn't bringing any benefit to society.
"Gramps, I want to settle in," Saitama repeated. "If you gave me some kind of job — on a construction site, in an office, or… Doesn't matter. Anything. I'd agree. But playing ninja? In those ridiculous green outfits? Seriously?"
"Um… and what exactly is wrong with the outfits?…" the Hokage set down his pipe and laced his fingers together beneath his chin. "Alright, to blazes with the outfits — wear what you like. I'll personally gift you a combat suit in yellow and red. But what's wrong with the operative's work?"
Saitama scratched the back of his head. Anko had told him how mind-numbingly dull it could be to sit in an ambush for days on end, or to escort some merchant's caravan, or some self-important official with an inflated ego. And how sometimes you had to go several days without food, making do with tasteless food pills. Missions came in all varieties. Interesting and dangerous high-rank assignments were only given to experienced shinobi who held jonin rank. And even then, only those with a solid track record. Anko herself, for instance, had never had an S-rank mission. The best she got was A-rank, and even that wasn't particularly frequent.
"Alright, Saitama. If you agree, you'll receive double the monthly salary of a jonin. Not counting missions. Plus you'll get your own home in the Sarutobi clan district…"
The bald hero's eyes went wide. The usual indifferent expression on his face gave way to one of bewilderment. He couldn't fathom why such fortune was raining down on him out of nowhere. Free cheese was only ever found in a mousetrap, after all.
Hiruzen smirked, watching the young man's thought process. The Hokage paused, giving Saitama time to process the offer — and allowing himself to prepare the "finishing blow" for the bald man.
"And as the cherry on top, you'll receive a permit for unlimited hunting in the Forest of Death — in that particular zone," the Third added with a wink, and understanding flickered in the hero's eyes. "And if you work as a shinobi for a year, by the end of that time I'll buy you a television…"
"Deal!" Saitama leaped to his feet. "Where do I sign?"
Sarutobi smirked and, picking up his pipe, began packing it with tobacco again.
"Not so fast. You'll receive all the documents tomorrow. However, there is one nuance."
Saitama tensed. He had known it couldn't be that simple. There were always these nuances.
"A shinobi must be not only strong, but also…" at those words the bald young man swallowed. "Hm… informed."
The Hokage glanced at Mitarashi.
"Mitarashi Anko," he began firmly. The kunoichi snapped to attention. "I am now designating you as Saitama's tutor."
"Say what?" the hero didn't follow.
"Eh?…" escaped from Anko.
"Let me explain," Hiruzen smiled, observing his subordinates' reactions. "In order to live up to the rank of jonin, Saitama, you will need to possess a minimum of knowledge about our world's structure. Starting tomorrow, in addition to training with Naruto, you will study the same subjects as him. And your teacher will be Anko. Is that clear?"
By the end of the Third Hokage's speech, Anko's eye was twitching. Saitama was simply standing in a daze, eyes rolled back, apparently lost in thought.
That old fool… So what does this mean? I have to be not just a babysitter, but a teacher as well?
Silence settled over the office. In addition to the twitching eye, a vein had begun to pulse at the kunoichi's temple. Managing somehow to recover from the shock, she asked:
"Is that all?"
"Yes," Hiruzen nodded. "You may both go."
Anko led Saitama out by the hand, since he had frozen like a statue. The hero shuffled after the girl with a wooden gait. The news of his "professional development" had apparently caught the young man off guard. Whether it was a pleasant or unpleasant surprise — that was not yet clear.
Puffing on his pipe, Hiruzen smiled. He was doing everything in his power to bring these two together. They would make an excellent couple. If nothing else, fresh blood would be good for the village — as would a new and powerful clan. All of that was a distant prospect, of course, but still.
Sarutobi's musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Hokage-sama, a client from the Land of Waves is here to see you. Shall I let him in?" a young female secretary asked.
"Yes, we already spoke with him yesterday. Send him in…"
A minute later a large man in glasses with grey hair and a beard walked into the office. He was dressed in a brown sleeveless vest and matching trousers. An obi sash was tied around his shirt, and a pale towel hung around his neck. The client clutched a pointed hat in his hand — one resembling the trimmed top of an onion.
"Hokage-sama, what about the escort team?" the man asked. "Have you found someone for me?"
Hiruzen chewed his pipe thoughtfully, then nodded to himself and said:
"Yes, Tazuna-san. There is one available team of genin with a jonin instructor. It seems they're training at a training ground right now, or thereabouts. The team may strike you as a little unconventional, but…"
The Third paused, but a couple of moments later continued:
"In any case, with them and their instructor, you will be in complete safety. I assure you. I will give the orders right now and they'll be called in. You're welcome to wait here in the meantime…"