The village was once again bustling with life.
Children ran through the morning mist with headbands tied too tight, playing ninja. Gossip spread as usual. The scent of grilled dumplings and a variety of street foods wafted from food stands, where sellers shouted to hawk their goods. Somewhere down the main street, Naruto was already shouting about becoming Hokage—twice.
Among the lively villagers, Uetsumi Kirinji walked unnoticed. His steps were soundless. But those with enough experience as shinobi instinctively avoided crossing his path.
He wore a standard black upper and gray lower uniform—no clan sigil, no visible rank. His short purple hair fell naturally over his forehead. His sharp golden eyes remained quiet beneath lowered lashes.
As he passed under the Hokage Monument's shadow, he paused. He stared directly at the carved face of the Third Hokage and sighed.
"Still watching," Kirinji murmured.
Then he moved on, walking toward the Academy with no apparent urgency.
---
Inside the Academy, chaos bloomed.
Naruto stood on a desk, striking poses.
Sakura sighed loud enough to rupture her lungs.
Sasuke stared out the window like it had personally offended him.
"Get down, Naruto!" Iruka shouted from the hallway. "You're a genin now—try acting like one!"
Naruto made a face. "I am acting like one! You ever seen a genin this cool?!"
Kirinji slipped in during the noise. No one noticed. He sat in the second row from the back, near the window. His chair didn't creak. He made no sound as he sat.
Only Iruka's eyes caught him.
For a moment, Iruka stiffened—recognizing the face from the scroll he'd been handed by the Hokage himself.
[Uetsumi Kirinji]
Not to be graded.
Not to be questioned.
Assigned directly.
Special clearance.
Iruka gave him a subtle nod, then continued.
An hour passed. Team assignments began.
"Team Seven," Iruka read, eyes narrowed at his clipboard. "Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Haruno, and Sasuke Uchiha. Await your jōnin instructor here."
Naruto cheered. Sakura squealed. Sasuke... smirked faintly.
"Team Eight—Kiba Inuzuka, Hinata Hyūga, Shino Aburame…"
It continued. The noise died down. Students whispered, shuffled, waited. When Iruka paused, the silence sharpened.
He looked up at Kirinji.
"Team Five," he said slowly, voice steady. "Uetsumi Kirinji, Akabe Naoya, and Fushimo Reinara."
The room paused.
A quiet kid in the back—a civilian-born with soft brown hair and pale green eyes—raised his hand. "That's me. Naoya."
He didn't sound nervous. He sounded polite. Gentle.
Across the room, a girl with perfectly curled hair and an aristocratic aura crossed her legs with flair.
"Tch. Of course I'm with a commoner and an unknown boy," she muttered, just loud enough for Kirinji to hear.
Iruka cleared his throat. "Your jōnin instructor has ordered you to meet him at Training Ground 14 immediately."
Kirinji gave a shallow nod, then walked out.
The other two followed shortly after.
---
Training Ground 14 was quiet—far from the main village lanes. Sparse trees. Dry grass. No shade, no comfort. Just enough vegetation to catch blood.
Kirinji arrived first, quietly observing the surroundings. His eyes scanned both teammates once as they arrived.
Reinara entered next—arms crossed, expression bored. Her flak jacket was custom-made: lighter, cleaner, trimmed with gold. She wore a silver necklace and walked like she owned the dirt under her shoes.
Naoya followed behind. Still as meek as ever, but with a gentle and bright smile. He wore soft gray gloves and a utility pouch filled with vials and scrolls.
Naoya offered a calm nod. "Nice to meet you two."
Kirinji nodded back. "Kirinji."
Reinara scoffed and poised herself elegantly. "You two, listen well. My name is Fushimo Reinara, and it is your pleasure to meet me."
Naoya smiled wryly, bowing awkwardly.
Kirinji didn't even spare her a glance.
Reinara's elegant smile cracked. "What was that reaction?! Well, I suppose I can't expect more from you fools."
Naoya chuckled softly. "Should I be worried about being the normal one here?"
A rustle. Then a thud.
A tall man dropped into the clearing, landing with exaggerated flair.
Hanzji Arata. Tall. Wiry. Dressed in a half-zipped flak vest and sandals. His hair was tied in a crooked topknot. His eyes were warm and wide—until you really looked.
"Team Five! Glorious day for a first meeting! Sun's out, morale's low, and your futures are full of paperwork and therapy!"
Naoya blinked.
Reinara raised a brow.
Kirinji stared.
Arata grinned.
"I'm your jōnin instructor. But you may call me Hanzji-sensei, or Grand General Hanzji the Benevolent. Either works."
He twirled a kunai in one hand, then stabbed it into the ground dramatically.
"Now. Before we braid friendship bracelets or go on our first D-rank adventure to rescue someone's cat from a tree—let's be honest with each other."
His voice didn't change.
But something underneath it did.
"Can any of you kill?"
The question didn't match the smile on his face.
Naoya hesitated.
Reinara frowned. "That's a disturbing way to greet your students."
"Is it?" Arata asked brightly. "I asked my last team the same thing. One said yes. One said maybe. One said, 'please don't.' Only two are still breathing."
The smile never left his face.
Naoya said nothing. Reinara tensed. Kirinji didn't blink.
Arata clapped once.
"Good! You all passed the opening vibe check. Tomorrow: bell test. Old school, yes. But trust me—it works. Fail, and I recommend you for alternative career paths. Like merchant assistant. Or corpse disposal."
He turned around.
"Oh—and bring lunch. Watching you suffer makes me hungry."
And with that, he vanished into the trees—whistling off-key.
The three genin stood in awkward silence.
After a final, wordless acknowledgment, they each set off on different paths.