Chronicles of the Yondaime

Prologue

A soft wind blew through the monumental forest that surrounded Konohagakure no Sato, filling the peaceful air beyond the walls with the quiet rustling of leaves. However, the goings on within the shinobi settlement were far from still. Joy filled shouts echoed out over the rooftops of the ninja city, hundreds of colorful banners accentuating the uniqueness of the occasion. The streets were crowded with the denizens of the world’s largest military community, and some yet lingered in the squares surrounding the headquarters of the Hokage, their eyes cast on the impressive structure in unbridled happiness.

As it always did, the Monument to the Hidden Leaf’s previous leaders towered protectively over the ninja village, its long shadow stretching as far as the distant walls in the fading light of dusk. The faces of the Shodai, the Nidaime, the Sandaime, the Yondaime, and the Godaime all stared down on Konoha, eternally watching over the people they had cared for through their lives. But already, scaffolding had been erected next to the carefully chiseled features of the Fifth, preparations to begin construction delayed until the celebrations ended. And barely visible in the twilight, no more than a patch of white on the head of the Yondaime, a lone figure could be seen, unmoving in his precarious position.

A small smile played on the lips of one Naruto Uzumaki as he gazed out over the village that had been his home for so long, twirling the object in his hands with a sort of casual respect. He absently fingered the hem of his robe, displaying a mild interest in the scarlet kanji inscribed into the white fabric. His thoughts wandered, moving from the events of the day, to the extensive list of responsibilities he would be taking on in a few short hours. Heavens knew that he would be busy enough.

The sound of sandals bouncing off stone made him turn, but he didn’t react. His own personal ANBU guard was stationed at various points around the monument; if danger were coming, he would have known. And so, he didn’t so much as flinch when the former Godaime Hokage landed deftly on the head of the Fourth, a mere foot away from the perch of the newly named Rokudaime.

“So, you finally made it,” the only surviving Sannin murmured, taking a seat next to her successor.

A dry chortle escaped the throat of the Sixth Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, “Yeah, but the journey was hardly what you would call a cakewalk.”

Tsunade nodded, conceding, “But you must remember; the journey is only just beginning. You may have crossed the hills, but the mountains are still looming.”

“Thanks for that little reminder,” Naruto snorted, his blue eyes never leaving the scurrying figures in the streets below, “It sounds like something the old man might have said.”

The retired Godaime chuckled softly, “It was one of his favorites. Whenever Jiraiya, Orochimaru and I would complete a particularly difficult task, he would always tell us the hardest was coming. It was one of the old fellow’s most infuriating, yet endearing qualities.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence, reminiscing about the companions they had lost on their similar, yet starkly different paths. Tsunade’s face was the picture of calm and serenity, the pressure of the office finally removed from her shoulders after years of loyal service. Next to hers, Naruto’s expression was the required mask of the shinobi leader; impassive, and yet still exuding a feeling of raw power.

Minutes passed, stretching on into the evening. Far below, the citizens of Konoha continued their festivities into the night, younger children being sent to their beds as the older folk rolled out numerous casks of wine to further celebrate the coronation of their newest protector. On the distant walls, experts directed the preparation of specially imported fireworks under the watchful eyes of Leaf ninja. Such things were a rarity in the ninja world, and as such were a rare treat for the people of Konoha.

Tsunade turned slightly, glancing at the man who had been her son for so long. The years had changed him, of that there was no doubt. All signs of teenage lankiness was gone, replaced by a show of seamless fluidity and strength. Blonde hair still stuck out in a ruffled sort of way, and yet even that appeared in place in the posture of the Rokudaime. As always, the necklace she had given him years ago hung from his neck. He had come a long way, but she wasn’t lying when she said that the longest road was the one yet to come.

“It’s not polite to stare,” the Uzumaki said wryly, breaking her from her reverie.

Ignoring the weak jibe, the Slug Sannin sighed, “You should be down there with them, you know. It is your coronation that they’re celebrating after all. And technically, they are your people now.”

“They’ve always been my people,” the Rokudaime murmured softly, “All my life has been dedicated to this moment, Tsunade. I’ve been working towards it ever since I discovered what the Hokage stood for, what it meant.” He paused, “And yet, now that I’m here, I don’t know where my path will lead me.”

“Not many do, at your age,” Tsunade muttered, “But you have time. You just have to trust in yourself, and your instincts, and you will find the right way. You got this far, didn’t you?”

The younger shinobi nodded, his gaze lingering on the city that was now his charge, “Still, I don’t think I’d be here if it wasn’t for all the people that helped me along the way. Without them, I think I would have lost my way long ago.”

The kunoichi sighed, “Just remember that you helped a lot of them achieve their dreams too, Naruto. You have always been the one that others look to for support, and I have little doubt that they will continue to do so. In my eyes, the path that you follow has never led you astray, and as long as you continue on that road, you’ll make a great Hokage.” She hesitated for a moment, before slowly reaching into the folds of her kimono and retrieving a small, hastily wrapped package.

Naruto raised a single eyebrow as he lowered the ceremonial hat of the Hokage onto the stone beside him, carefully accepting the parcel from the onetime Hokage, “And what, if I may ask, is this?”

“It’s something Jiraiya gave me before he … left,” the mention of her former teammate seemed to pain the Slug Sannin, and she hurried on, “He wanted me to pass it on to you, when the correct time had come.”

The Rokudaime glanced at her questioningly, while his hands carefully extricated a battered volume from the tattered wrapping. His blue eyes widened as he saw the neatly printed kanji on the front, “Jiraiya didn’t write this.”

It was a statement, not a question.

Tsunade nodded, “Before he left, Jiraiya told me that the original owner passed it onto him for safe-keeping. Similarly, he handed it on to me to keep it in good hands. At least, until I deemed you ready for it.”

For a moment, silence reigned, and then …

“Thank you.”

XXXX

The door to the offices of the Rokudaime creaked open slowly, as the newly instated Hokage stepped tentatively into his new headquarters. Several torches lit the night darkened room, illuminating the faces of several former Fire Shadows looking down on the space sternly, a constant reminder of his responsibility to his people. His own eyes lingered for a moment of the Fourth, before walking slowly across the floor and lowering himself into the seat.

Naruto sighed as he caught sight of the large bundle of papers on the corner of his desk, neatly stacked and ready for the authority of the Hokage. He removed the ceremonial hat with a deft flick, casually placing it on the top of the pile. Various pieces of stationery were placed tidily on the edge of the desk, ready for the hand of the new leader of the Hidden Leaf. Ignoring the tall stack for now, the Rokudaime reverently removed the gift from Tsunade and placed it on the smooth wood before him.

His eyes touched the bold kanji on the front cover once more, and he let go of a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Bright blue orbs flickered to the mural of the Yondaime once more before moving back to the old volume in front of him. All his life, he had wondered what they had been like, who they were, and this was finally his chance.

Taking another deep breath, Naruto Uzumaki glanced at the cover once more, his eyes tracing the kanji that read Minato Namikaze, and then turned to the first page.

Chronicles of the Yondaime

Chapter 1

Namikaze

There was an air of excitement surrounding the academy, and the graduation process that would be happening later that day could only claim a small part in the cause of this. Even the recent festivals celebrating the coronation of the Sandaime paled in comparison to the rumour that had spread through the shinobi settlement like wild fire. It could be heard whispered all over the sizable village; Jiraiya and Orochimaru, the world famous Sannin of Toad and Snake, would finally be taking on Genin cells of their own. And while naught had been said of Tsunade, the third of the Legendary Trio, this was enough to send the Village Hidden in the Leaves into an uproar of sorts.

Hideyoshi flicked through his administration papers with practiced ease, absently sliding open the classroom door as he glanced over some last minute adjustments. The soft murmuring of children’s voices greeted his ears, quickly dying down as he crossed the space to his desk. A quick glance from his coal orbs was all it took to tell him all were in attendance. Not surprising, what with some of the tales he had heard on the short walk from his apartment to the academy. Any adult with a child in this class would doubtless be hoping for their heir to be placed under the two Sannin, if the general gossip was to be believed.

“Good morning, class.”

“Good morning, Hideyoshi-sensei.”

The Chuunin nodded vaguely, closing the folder and placing it on his desk, “Today we will be doing some basic history revision, before moving onto the exam later on this afternoon.”

A few groans greeted his announcement, followed by a loud shout from the back row, “You’ve got to be kidding me. We’ve been doing that history crap ever since we got here. I mean, we would be better off practicing for the exam.”

Several noises of agreement followed the outburst, many of the shinobi in training turning questioningly toward their teacher. Hideyoshi cleared his throat before turning to look at the offender sternly, “Anko, you know as well as everyone else here that history can often give us insights into the minds and strategies of our opponents. It is an important part of a ninja’s education, almost as important as the combat itself.” The young Mitarashi scowled, but did not reply.

Hideyoshi continued, “As for your exam, well, there would be little point in administering it if I gave you a chance to practice only several hours before it actually commenced. If you truly wanted to excel as shinobi of Konoha, I would have thought that you would have practiced in your own time.” Several mutters broke out, but the Chuunin silenced them with a look, “And now, if you will all turn to the board.”

Picking up a long indicator, the teacher pointed at a map of the known ninja world, “Now, who can tell me the purpose of the shinobi villages?”

Several hands shot into the air straight away, followed more slowly by others. Hideyoshi looked around for a moment, at last selecting a young Uchiha, “Yes, Katashi?”

“The shinobi villages are a symbol of a country’s military power,” the young boy answered, “And therefore are a show of that land’s strength in the world. They are also a source of manpower for a variety of tasks, which can include anything from simplistic, low difficulty chores, to life threatening tasks such as war and assassinations. Through the completion of these tasks, the villages earn an appropriate income, thereby allowing them to maintain their economies.”

In the back row, Anko scoffed, “I could have told you that.”

“Be quiet, Anko,” the Chuunin said severely, and glanced apologetically at the boy, “That was good, Katashi. Alright, who can tell me who founded this wonderful village we live in?” To his surprise, it was the young Mitarashi who raised her hand. Usually, Anko wouldn’t hesitate to call out an answer if she had even the slightest inkling as to what it was.

“Anko?”

“Hashirama, Head of the Senju Clan, and Madara, Head of the Uchiha Clan, founded the Village Hidden in the Leaves after coming to a truce in the conflict that had been going on between the two groups for years. As such, Senju became the Shodai, the first Hokage and leader of Konoha. A monument was built in memory of their work at the Valley of the End.”

“Good,” Hideyoshi said approvingly. In spite of her unruliness and boldness, there was no doubting the talents of Anko Mitarashi both in and out of the classroom. Her skills with kunai and shuriken were something to be marveled at, as was her undoubted abilities with ninjutsu. Even though the Chuunin had his misgivings about her behaviour, he was certain she would grow into an amazing kunoichi, “Very good, but there was one mistake. Would anyone like to help her out?”

A few hands rose, and the teacher looked around, settling on a student in the middle row, “You, Namikaze.”

The boy nodded, his dawn eyes unwavering as he returned the stare of his teacher, “A few years after the formation of Konoha, Madara Uchiha was forced to leave the Hidden Leaf. Nobody really knows why, but the grounds for his departure have been speculated from a planned treason against Konoha, to a story that he stole his brother’s eyes. In any case, Madara left the Hidden Leaf in disgrace, and the Shodai tried to retrieve him. They fought at the Valley of the End, where Senju eventually achieved victory. Thus, the monument there was erected in their honour.”

The instructor nodded, eyeing the young student with professional interest. Minato Namikaze. Like Anko, he was one of those talented students that came from a nondescript family in the village. Despite this, Minato had worked hard during his time at the academy, even outdoing the skilled Mitarashi. All of his pursuits under the academy’s tutelage had yielded positive results, and Hideyoshi was certain that the Namikaze was headed towards a bright future.

Looking back to the rest of his class, the teacher continued, “So, does anyone know the cause of the uprising in Kumogakure ten years ago?”

XXXX

The shinobi-in-training all displayed unrestrained relief as they poured out onto the lawns of the academy, instantly separating into their own segregated groups. Anko and a couple of the other girls headed towards the shade of the tree at the back of the open area, while most of the others spread out in the sunlight, many leaning back to enjoy the peace of the day. Even though the lesson had been relatively uneventful, the tension in the young students was unmistakable. And with the graduation exam on that afternoon, it wasn’t difficult to understand their anxiety.

Minato yawned as he stepped out into the bright daylight, blinking once or twice as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light. He would be the first to admit that history was his least favourite activity at the ninja school, yet he also knew the value of the accursedly boring lectures. And if listening to his teacher talk about people who lived and died decades ago would help him become a great shinobi, he was more than willing to put up with it.

“Hey, Minato! I thought I told you to stop showing off in class so much.”

The Namikaze grinned as he caught sight of his friend leaning against the walls of the academy, “You would be showing off too, Inuzuka, if you could only be bothered to put in the work.”

“Like I would be bothered studying something as useless as that junk,” the lanky Tsume snorted, “That’s meant to be Koga’s field. I think you’re wasting your time with your head in all those books; you could use it so much better by learning some really cool ninjutsu, or working up on your taijutsu.”

“I’m already better than you are in both of those fields,” the Namikaze pointed out.

Tsume snorted, “A bit of an arrogant fellow aren’t you? I think Kuromaru and I could take you down if we wanted to. It’s never good to get too overconfident, Namikaze.”

“With you, I don’t need to worry about being cocky,” Minato chuckled, “I know for a fact that I would be able to beat you, hands down, with my eyes closed. After all, Kuromaru would probably be at knee height by now, right?”

His fellow classmate scowled, obviously displeased by her friend’s victory. Her gaze wandered past his shoulder for a moment, and then nodded in the direction of the entrance, “I think Masaru has been sucking up to Hideyoshi-sensei again; here he comes now.”

Raising a single blonde eyebrow, the Namikaze glanced absently over his shoulder. Sure enough, Masaru was standing alone in the doorway, a disgruntled expression visible on the young Koga’s pale features. He was not exactly what some would call the picture of good health, constantly presenting a sickly visage, and a skinny frame. From his first day in the academy, it had been apparent that his skills with the pen far outweighed his skills with a weapon. In stark contrast of this, however, the budding ninja had a ferocious temper, and had a strong distaste for those who chose to mock his abilities.

“Hey,” Masaru grunted, joining them by the wall.

“Have you been trying to get Hideyoshi-sensei on your side again?” Minato inquired, frowning at the older boy’s nod, “You know you’re not going to get anywhere if you try and manipulate others into doing what you want all the time.”

“You could have told me that an hour ago,” the Koga growled, his dissatisfaction obvious as he glared off into the distance.

Tsume snickered, “Let me guess, Hideyoshi ignored you again. I warned you not to try going after him anymore. You got into enough trouble the last time you tried to convince him to give you special treatment.”

“It was worse today,” Masaru muttered, “He threatened to fail me if I tried to influence my final result in any way apart from the standard procedures. The old fool even put a penalty on my exam.”

The Namikaze shook his head, “It serves you right for trying to weasel out of the work, Masaru.”

“Thanks for the support, Minato,” the boy in question said sarcastically, sending a glare at his longtime friend. But infuriatingly, the younger student merely clapped him on the back, giving him a cheerful grin.

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’ll remember not to.”

Minato rolled his eyes at his friend's childish reply, instead turning to Tsume, “Are you ready for the exam this afternoon? From what I’ve heard about the instructors, they mark quite harshly.”

Tsume groaned at the mention of the graduation test, “Am I prepared? Father kept me up until midnight, just to make sure I had the Henge down right. He made me practice that damn thing twenty times. Twenty times! Then he made me Kawarimi with almost everything in the entire clan house. You would think that I’d been learning nothing in my whole time here, from the way he worked me.” She sighed, “Am I ready? Yeah, and a hell of a lot more on top of that.”

Minato chuckled softly, earning a dark look from the Inuzuka. Hurriedly stifling the urge to laugh, he turned to his pale friend, “How about you, Masaru?”

Unsurprisingly, the young Koga scowled, “I have a decent grip on the Henge, and Kawarimi, and I have a passable Bunshin, but my taijutsu and weapons practice are hardly what you would call acceptable Genin material. If I’m going to pass this thing, I’m going to have to be able to impress them with the basics of ninjutsu.”

The Namikaze grinned, “Well, your skill in that field is pretty basic anyway.”

The other two cast him a withering look, and were just about to speak when a loud voice rang out from the door, “All students are to return to their classes, with examinees moving to the presentation hall.”

Minato’s roguish demeanor faded instantly, replaced by a serious expression, “Good luck, to both of you.”

Sensing the change in their friend, Tsume and Masaru simply nodded, “You too.”

And with that, the three companions joined the throng of Genin hopefuls that were rushing back inside.

XXXX

“Everyone, move into the designated order.”

Hideyoshi’s voice rang out through the high-roofed chamber, echoing over the crowd of students gathered there. For a moment, nobody moved. But a sharp look for their teacher sent the young ninja-in-training scurrying, confusion breaking out as the children struggled to find their correct places. A small smile played on Minato’s lips as he found his place in the line, directly behind the boisterous Mitarashi.

“What are you looking at, Namikaze?” the dark haired girl said scathingly, catching his glance.

Minato quickly shook his head, a silent apology evident in the action. As he and Anko were always vying for the top place in the class, a rivalry of sorts had quickly developed between the two Genin. One that was never spoken aloud, and yet everyone knew about. The two were often paired in sparring exercises by their observant Chuunin instructors, and over the years, a grudging friendship had grown between the two. Neither of them would admit it, but each held the other in high regards.

Anko snorted as the first student stepped through the entrance to the exam room, “You would think that they would be a bit more selective about the people who could even take this exam.”

“With the increasing hostilities between Konoha and Iwa, the village council can’t be as picky as they used to,” Minato reminded her, “Besides, the more shinobi and kunoichi that we have, the less likely it is that we will be attacked at all.”

“If the exams are this easy, I don’t think the Hidden Leaf will have to worry about lack of numbers,” the Mitarashi muttered, watching as the boy who had entered several minutes ago emerged from the examination room, a Konoha Hitai-ate clutched proudly in his fist, “The only thing they have to be concerned with is the quality.”

Finding no reply to that, the Namikaze merely watched as the long line of students slowly dwindled. At first, a large number seemed to be passing, with only one or two failing to achieve the Hitai-ate. But as time went on, fewer and fewer seemed to come out of the small room with the symbol of the Leaf. Minato tensed when Tsume disappeared into the small room, only relaxing several minutes later when she returned with her own forehead protector tied firmly around her neck.

“Koga, Masaru!”

The pale boy visibly steeled himself, giving Minato a quick glance before hurrying on into the next room. The Namikaze crossed his fingers behind his back, inwardly praying for his academy friend to pass. Time passed slowly, the only noise to break the silence being the nervous shuffling of feet on the wooden floorboards. Several minutes passed, before at last, Masaru emerged with his own Hitai-ate, and a relieved expression displayed on his sickly features.

“Makioka, Kaori!”

Anko groaned impatiently, “This damn thing is taking forever.”

“It’s a pity your patience doesn’t match your skills, Anko,” Minato chortled, “You would probably be one of the best.”

The Mitarashi flashed him a quick grin, “I already am one of the best, Namikaze. And if you didn’t have your head in the clouds so often, you might actually come close to reaching my level someday.”

“On the contrary,” he murmured, a small smile on his lips “I think that it’s a good idea to just stop and consider a problem sometimes. Better that than just jumping straight in with your eyes closed.” The younger girl opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by a shout from the back room.

“Mitarashi, Anko!”

Settling with a sharp look at her rival, the potential kunoichi moved quickly towards the veil that hid the exam room from the main hall, leaving Minato at the front of what was left of the long line of Genin hopefuls. He was relatively confident about the examination, but even so, the slight flutter in his belly was enough to betray his apprehension. And so, when Anko came out of the small room, undisguised delight apparent as she fastened the Hitai-ate around her forehead, his unease grew.

“Namikaze, Minato!”

Releasing a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, the shinobi-in-training stepped forward slowly, as if in a dream. In the back of his mind, he vaguely realized that Tsume and Masaru were waving encouragingly from the other end of the hall. Even Anko gave him a curt smile as she passed him. But he barely noticed any of this, his dawn grey eyes fixed on the door ahead of him. With a slight hesitation, he slid it open and stepped through into the room beyond.

Target boards lined the walls of the small room, while various weapon racks leant against the back wall. In some places, scorch marks could be seen on the polished floorboards, signs of the exams that had taken place here over the years. Behind a wooden desk at the centre, Hideyoshi was looking at him contemplatively, while his fellow Chuunin, Hiroshi, hurriedly began jotting down the Namikaze’s details onto a long form. His instructor stood as Minato approached the desk, quickly clearing his throat, “Minato, if you would please perform the Henge first, forming an image of the current Hokage.”

The Namikaze nodded, and as suddenly as it had come, his nervousness vanished. This was what he had been trained to do; he would not fail. Placing his fingers in the correct form, the boy focused his chakra carefully, and murmured the word, “Henge.” There was a soft popping noise, and the Sandaime Hokage stood in the spot where Minato had been only moments before.

Stepping around the desk, Hideyoshi moved closer to examine the form of the technique. To say that he was impressed would be a severe understatement. The student had gotten every inch of the transformation jutsu correct, from the intricate embroidery on the hem of the white robes, to the few lines of grey in the dark head of the Fire Shadow. It was amazingly detailed, right down to a small scar just beneath the chin. Nodding his approval, he returned to behind his desk and scribed down the results. There was another soft pop as the Namikaze released the Henge.

“Next, we would like you to perform the Bunshin, if you could.”

Smiling confidently, Minato formed the required seal, “Bunshin.” Several poofs accompanied his cry, and Hideyoshi nodded his appreciation once more as four carbon copies of Minato appeared next to the original. He bent his head for a moment, his pen dashing across the page as he filled in the results. The four Bunshin vanished, leaving the original Minato standing alone in front of the table, his grey eyes gleaming with anticipation.

At last, the instructor stood up once more, also lifting a fist sized stone from the desk, “I am going to throw this towards the other end of the room, and you have to Kawarimi with it before it reaches the wall. Understood?”

The academy student nodded slowly, his intent gaze fixed on the stone. Putting a moderate amount of strength behind the throw, Hideyoshi hurled the heavy object, aiming it directly over the boy’s shoulder. Minato seemed to turn with it as it shot past, watching as it flew towards the wall at his back. And in that split second the Namikaze was gone from the floor in front of them, replaced instead by the stone. Hideyoshi smiled as the boy made his way back to the centre of the room, “Very well done, Minato. All that’s left is the physical exam.”

The blonde nodded neutrally, watching as Hideyoshi lowered himself into his seat to finish his marking, while Hiroshi rose after a final glance at the paper, “Alright buddy, let’s see what you can do with a kunai. Show me the basic stance first please.”

Reaching into the pouch that was attached to his thigh, the Namikaze quickly retrieved a kunai and slipped into the standard defensive stance, with both feet firmly planted on the ground, and the small weapon raised at a distance from his body. Hiroshi smiled, marking something down, and then looked up again, “Now, how about a normal throw?”

“Which target?” the boy asked respectfully.

“Any one will do,” the more experienced shinobi chuckled, amused by the Namikaze's deference.

Casting his gaze around, Minato finally settled on one of the targets at an average distance. Aware that his teacher’s eyes were watching his every move, he took a deep breath, readied his throw, and released. The pitch was perfect, the stance and trajectory both more than efficient. And so the kunai buried itself in the target with a dull thunk. Even Hiroshi whistled appreciatively.

“I think you’re going to do just fine, Namikaze.”

The taijutsu teacher lowered himself into his chair, his pen racing across the surface of his papers as he completed the last of the marking. He conferred with Hideyoshi for a moment, before reaching into a drawer and pulling out a brand new Hitai-ate of the Hidden Leaf. And despite his stoicism throughout the course of the exam, Minato’s eyes lit up at the sight of the swirling symbol of the Leaf.

Clearing his throat once more, Hideyoshi smiled as he presented the boy with the prized forehead protector, “Minato Namikaze, it is with great pleasure that I name you a Genin of Konohagakure no Sato. Congratulations on reaching your goal.”

To his surprise, the newly instated Genin gave a small, tired grin as he accepted the Hitai-ate from his instructor, tying it carefully around his brow, “With all due respect, Hideyoshi-sensei, there is still a long way to go until I accomplish my goal.”

“There is no doubt you will go a long way if that performance is any indication of what you can do,” Hiroshi praised, before his tone returned to that of the teacher, “You are to report to your classroom at the normal time tomorrow morning. But until then, you’re dismissed.”

Giving a respectful bow to his two teachers, Minato barely restrained the giddy grin that threatened to break out on his youthful features. To his own surprise, he managed to maintain his self-control as far as the door, slipping out into the main hall as the call of “Nara, Shizuma!” rang out over his head. The dark haired boy yawned once before slouching past the Namikaze into the room beyond. And then, in front of most of his class, Minato let a wide smile spread over his features, his pleasure obvious for all to see.

From the entrance opposite him, Anko gave him a wide grin, “I take it you passed, Namikaze?”

Minato could only give a relieved nod as he made his way across the room towards her. Tsume and Masaru were nowhere to be seen, more than likely on their way home to celebrate with their family after their successful graduation. As if reading his mind, Anko looked around before saying, “Your friends left a few minutes ago. They told me to tell you that they would see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Anko,” the Namikaze replied.

“Don’t mention it,” she said instinctively.

“I’ll remember not to,” he said with a chuckle, recalling Masaru’s words from earlier. The Mitarashi gave him a dirty look, moving from her position by the door and exiting the large hall. Minato followed more slowly, a few feet behind the younger kunoichi. Anko continued to ignore him, even when he continued to tail her as far as the street.

It was a normal day in Konoha, and thus the streets were crowded with bustling citizens, hurrying between the various stores and stalls located around the growing settlement that was the Village Hidden in the Leaves. On the walls, a reduced number of Chuunin and Jonin stood watch, always casting their gaze to the north. To the east of the city, the monument to the Hokages rose proudly into the sky, the chiseled features of the three Fire Shadows watching protectively over their people.

Finally, it seemed Anko had had enough. Whirling about, she glared daggers at her classmate, “Stop following me, Namikaze, otherwise you just might regret it.”

“Might?” Minato chortled, “So there’s only a minor chance that I will regret it, Anko?”

“There’s a minor chance you won’t make it home without injuries if you don’t leave me alone,” the Mitarashi stated acidly, whipping around and rushing off into the huge crowd gathered.

Minato sighed as he lost sight of Anko in the multitude of people thronging through the dusty avenues of Konoha. Climbing atop an overturned wooden cart, he looked up and down the street, searching for any sign of his longstanding rival. But there was nothing to indicate where the newly graduated kunoichi had gone. Sighing once more, the Genin dropped to the ground, glanced the way he had come once more, and then headed off in the direction of home.

XXXX

The door to the apartment swung open with a quiet creak, the insides of the small room swallowed by the shadows of the evening. Wandering blindly through the dark house, the Namikaze called out absently, “Chika! Chika, I’m home!”

With a casual flick, he raised the blinds, allowing a modicum of the twilight to light up the pitch darkness of his home. Turning around, he unhooked his weapons pouch with ease, dropping it on the bench. He removed the Hitai-ate more gently, almost with a sort of respect. Placing it carefully on the bench top, he made his way further into the house, “Chika, it’s me. I’ve come home, and you’ll never guess what happened today!”

Silence greeted his question, as he had expected. He approached the bedroom door that was next to his own, knocking lightly before entering. As he thought, the bare space was devoid of the older girl’s presence. Only the folded Fuuma Shuriken sitting atop the windowsill, a half filled sack of kunai, and the messy folds of the sleeping mat on the floor suggested that anything inhabited the cramped room. With a soft sigh, the young Namikaze eased the door shut once more.

Moving back to the main living quarters, he grabbed a cup of ramen off the shelves above the window, pointedly ignoring the small note attached to the glass in front of him. Returning to his own room, he nudged the door open with his foot, slipping in to take a seat on his own sleeping mat.

Similarly to Honoka, Minato’s chamber was relatively undecorated in regard to the normal colours and ornaments that you might expect of an average twelve year old. Instead, the walls were lined with a variety of racks and hooks, some of which held small pouches containing kunai and shuriken. The broken head of a naginata lay forlornly in the corner, while the snapped off hilt of a ninjato sat on the sill. And scattered all across the confined room, from beneath the bed to pinned up on the wall, a wide variety of scrolls could be seen, their rough surfaces covered in hundreds of symbols and writings.

Yawning widely, the Namikaze finished off the last of his meager meal with a gusto that had not been there when he first arrived home. Standing up wearily, he tossed the small cup into a box, lifting his eyes to one of the scrolls on the wall. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he read the neat kanji in the dim light of dusk.

My name is Minato Namikaze. I am going to be the greatest shinobi in history.

Chronicles of the Yondaime

Chapter 2

The Toad Sage

It was almost as any other day, Minato thought as he stepped through the front door. Hideyoshi was already seated behind his desk, the Chuunin instructor’s head buried in a pile of paperwork. Students sat engaged in their own quiet conversations, all awaiting the stern voice of their teacher to ring out through the classroom and signal the lesson’s beginning. And yet, in the eyes of the Namikaze, there was something about today that was indescribably unlike his days of schooling in the past.

Of course, this was almost certainly due in some way to the fact that nearly half the students that had been in his class for four years were gone. The remaining Genin sat in secluded corners, their excitement at the prospect of becoming real shinobi evident in their hurriedly whispered discussions. And from the casual way that most of those who remained were acting, it was almost as if they had never been.

“Hey, Minato! Quit dreaming and get up here!”

The young shinobi shook his head ruefully at the sound of Tsume’s raised voice, hurriedly moving across the floor to join his two friends before the kunoichi could attract any more attention to the new arrival. The Inuzuka and Koga were both grinning widely at him, their own Hitai-ate proudly on display. Masaru nudged the Namikaze’s arm as he dropped into a seat next to him, “What happened to you? We were beginning to think you weren’t going to show up at all.”

Minato threw up his hands defensively, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Tsume chuckled, “Yeah, but barely. Hideyoshi-sensei was just getting ready to announce the teams; you’re lucky you made it on time.”

“Namikaze!”

Minato turned at the sound of his name, only to find Anko grinning down at him, “Just remember that I’m the top dog in this class, so don’t run off and cry when I get picked to be trained by a Sannin and you get left with some run-of-the-mill Jonin.”

“I doubt it,” the older boy snorted, “I could wipe the floor with you, Anko. Even Hideyoshi-sensei knows it.” Behind him, he faintly recognized the soft noise of his instructor clearing his throat. “If anyone is going to be put under either of the Sannin, it’s going to be me.”

Anko just scowled back at him for a moment, before turning back to her own friends. Tsume smirked at the Namikaze, “Top dog, my ass.”

Masaru leant forward, lowering his voice as he spoke, “Do you think that Orochimaru and Jiraiya will really be taking on their own Genin teams this year? I mean, it seems pretty unlikely. What with all the border disputes that there have been lately, you’d think that the Hokage would need them there more than he needs them here.”

“Not necessarily,” Minato murmured, shrugging, “The problems with Ame have settled down a bit since the Salamander surrendered to the Legendary Three, and Kusa is too busy arguing with Taki over those river plains to worry about us at the moment. The only real threat is from Iwa, who are apparently more interested in their treaties with Ame and Suna than us in any case.”

“What about Tsunade, then?” Tsume interjected, “If her two teammates are intent on taking on the role of teacher, you’d think the Legendary Slug would also take on a team.”

“With her work in the hospital, it’s unlikely that she would have any sort of time to train a three man team of Genin,” the Namikaze replied, “On top of that, I’ve heard from Hideyoshi-sensei that she is preparing a course for Medic-nins.”

Masaru snorted, “Ha, Medic-nins. The idea itself sounds crazy; who would have the time to heal themselves while they’re standing in the middle of a battlefield?”

Minato made to reply, but was cut off by Hideyoshi, who it seemed had finally finished with his paperwork, “All students-” he stopped, a rueful expression crossing his features as he began again, “All Genin, could I have your attention for a moment please?”

Unlike most days, when it took several minutes for everyone to fall silent, all noise ceased instantly at their teacher’s words. Hideyoshi smiled warmly, “First of all, it has to be said; congratulations. Being accepted as a Genin of Konoha is no small feat, and not just anyone can do it. Many people have little to no inkling what to do with most of the concepts we apply here, such as chakra control and manipulation. You, however, have had the talent and skills to not only understand the complexities of a shinobi’s craft, but to excel in the application. For that in itself, I commend you.”

For a moment, he allowed those who had graduated to bask in the praise, before his expression hardened, “But there is something you must understand; your journey is only just beginning, and it will be far from easy. You may think that everything you have faced so far has been difficult, and that the classes are nothing more than a simple prerequisite for your lives as shinobi, but in reality, the trials that you will face out there will be beyond what you can imagine in the safety of this academy’s walls. It is a near certainty, that you will be asked to steal, to risk your lives, and almost certainly to kill.”

A few of the new Genin blanched at the mention of death, but Hideyoshi’s appearance didn’t soften, “That said, I will reiterate once more how heartening it is to see all of you who have made it here today. Again, it is no small accomplishment to become a part of the group who will ensure the continued safety and prosperity of the people of Konoha in the future. All I ask is that you don’t let me down, on your own paths as shinobi of the Hidden Leaf.”

There was a few seconds of shocked silence as Hideyoshi finished his speech, in which Minato swore he could hear a pin dropping. And then, at the far side of the room, an Aburame got to his feet slowly, and bowed formally to the Chuunin instructor, his respect obvious in the gesture. A moment later, the twin Uchiha clan members, Katashi and Yuzuki, followed suit, their heads bowed in brief acknowledgement of their teacher. It didn’t take long for the rest of the class to follow, giving a final sign of their esteem in their teacher to the more experienced shinobi.

A hint of a proud smile tweaked at the edges of Hideyoshi’s lips, but he quickly hid it behind a stern expression, “Now, if you would all be seated I will announce your Genin cell placements.”

Minato leaned forward unconsciously, his fingers drumming the desk in anticipation. Next to him, Tsume and Masaru also tensed slightly, their eyes firmly fixed on the man at the front of the room. Lifting the scroll into the air, the Chuunin moved to stand in front of the assembled Genin, “The first team; Naoki Fujiwara, Tsume Inuzuka, and Minoru Nakae. You are Team One, and your Jonin instructor is Ryouta Ukiyo.”

Tsume glanced at her two longtime friends wistfully, before looking around for her new Genin cell partners. Minato turned as well, catching sight of the Inuzuka’s teammates in the corner of the room. Naoki and Minoru were both reasonably well skilled, as far as he could tell, and from the little contact he had had with the two, they seemed to be a genuinely friendly pair. Despite his disappointment that he would not be in the same team as his longtime friend, he was pleased that she at least had good partners.

“Next team; Masaru Koga, Anko Mitarashi, and Katashi Uchiha. You are Team Two, and your Jonin instructor is Orochimaru, the Snake Sannin.”

Several gasps broke the silence of the room, and the Namikaze was not surprised when Masaru’s eyes widened to an astonishing degree. Tsume raised an eyebrow at the Koga, while Minato merely shrugged, his frustration weighing heavy in his belly. Jealous mutterings broke out between the other Genin, envious looks being thrown at the privileged three who would be training under a Sannin. A victory cry erupted from the back row, and Minato turned in time to see Anko sneering down at him triumphantly, “Just like I told you, Namikaze!”

Minato could only give a weak grin, before turning back to the front.

“Next team; Minato Namikaze, Yuzuki Uchiha, and Kiyoshi Sanada. You are Team Three, and your Jonin instructor is Jiraiya, the Toad Sannin.”

The Namikaze felt a moment of shock, and then a wide grin broke out on his features. Tsume patted him on the back enthusiastically, while Masaru just smiled, not even a hint of his bad temper showing. Risking a quick glance at Anko, he smirked victoriously, earning him one of the kunoichi’s infamous glares. Not wanting to risk raising her ire any further, he shifted his focus to the row below the Mitarashi, getting a quick glimpse of his new teammates.

Like her brother, Yuzuki was also a talented Genin, and despite the cold and detached demeanor that was almost always present in the members of the Uchiha clan, Minato knew that her practical skills with both taijutsu and genjutsu would be invaluable in the field. Kiyoshi, on the other hand, was not nearly as dedicated to his work as the diligent Uchiha; in fact, with the few things the Namikaze knew about the Sanada, he was surprised that Kiyoshi had graduated at all.

But as he turned back to the front, the final part of the announcement finally registered; he was going to be trained by one of the Sannin. The legendary Toad Sage Jiraiya would be his instructor, and would help guide him through his years as a shinobi. A deep feeling of excitement coursed through Minato, giving him the uncomfortable sensation that his insides were involved in a very fast-paced dance. With a huge effort, he reined in his emotions, maintaining a calm façade while responding to his friends’ pointed jokes with a pretense of composure.

The rest of the unsorted Genin were gradually placed in their teams, until at last, Hideyoshi folded up his scroll once more, giving the Genin a final smile, “Once more, well done on reaching where you are. I have no doubt that you will all grow into truly amazing shinobi, and given time, may even exceed your teachers.” He paused, gathering up his papers before making for the door, “Your Jonin instructors should be along shortly, until then, it would be best if you waited here.”

And with that, the Chuunin instructor slid the door open, exiting with a final nod at his students.

As if they had been signaled, the entire group suddenly broke out into loud whispers, green-eyed looks being cast towards the six who had been fortunate enough to be placed under the two Sannin. Minato sighed slowly, raising a hand to massage his temples. Beside him, Tsume and Masaru were engaged in a fierce argument concerning their new teachers, and it seemed to the Namikaze that they were merely trying to prove which of the two had the louder voice.

As the minutes dragged on, the voices grew more excited, only adding to the monumental anticipation building up within the blonde Genin. All his life, he had wanted nothing more than to be a truly great shinobi, one who could easily protect the people of Konoha from the dangers that were a constant threat to their peace. To be able to give the people a chance to live without the constant fear that always accompanied the way of life that was part and parcel in a shinobi village. And now, he was finally being given the opportunity to fulfill his dream.

It was the quiet rasp of the door sliding on its hinges that first alerted the Genin to the presence of another in the room. Heads turned, eyes going round as dinner plates at the sight of the white clad figure in the entrance. A thick mauve rope wound around the navel of a battle kimono, tied in a thick knot slightly below the shoulder blades. Golden, slit-like eyes surveyed the gathered graduates with something akin to loathing, the very aura of Orochimaru clearly demonstrating his distaste for the Genin.

“Genin Cell Two,” the Sannin said shortly, his voice nothing more than a soft hiss.

Anko and Katashi practically leapt to their feet, both hurriedly moving down to join their new instructor at the door. Beside Minato, Masaru stood more steadily, his dark eyes scanning the Master of Serpents warily before glancing at his two friends. Tsume grinned widely, giving the Koga a stirring pat on the back, whilst Minato merely nodded encouragingly. Seeming to gather his nerve, the oldest of the trio stepped around the desk and moved to join the rest of his new team. Orochimaru gave him nothing more than a cursory glance, his aversion evident, before turning and exiting the room once more, his three followers in tow.

Minato sighed as his academy friend disappeared around the door, “I hope he’ll be alright.”

“He might not be the toughest thing since the Shodai,” Tsume muttered, a frown creasing her features, “But Masaru’s got a better head on his shoulders than most. You’d know that more than anyone, Minato. I can’t remember the last time you beat him in those games of he likes to play.”

“But everyone knows that Orochimaru is a hard taskmaster,” the Namikaze argued, “I’ve heard that he is the most likely choice for the position of Yondaime when the Sandaime completes his term. Anyone who can even be considered for the role of Hokage has got to be harsh, even at the best of times.”

“You worry too much,” the Inuzuka said, turning to the front, her dark eyes hard, “In case you’ve forgotten, Masaru is a ninja now, just like you. It is up to him to deal with whatever his new teacher gives him. If Orochimaru decides that a strict training system is the best thing for him, it’s not for us to decide otherwise.”

Minato hesitated, but nodded glumly. Seeing his morose expression, Tsume rolled her eyes, “Cheer up, Minato. You’d think you weren’t being trained by one of the Sannin yourself, and him knowing more ninjutsu than any other instructor you’d likely get.”

And that did it. The gloominess that had been settling over the Namikaze vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by a shining keenness in the corner’s of the grey eyes. Even his posture changed, reverting from the beginnings of a disheartened slump to his usual straight backed enthusiasm. The Clan heir chuckled; if there was one thing that never changed about Minato, it was his zeal in learning more about the way of the shinobi.

It was only a few minutes later that the heavy door slid open again, revealing the imposing figure of Ryouta Ukiyo. An intimidating gaze swept across the room, seeming to lower the temperature in the air. The man was something of a legend amongst the shinobi populace of Konoha, having been in the service of the Hidden Leaf for many years. Although nowhere near the level of the Hokage or the three Sannin, Ukiyo had earned his reputation as a merciless Jonin in the infamous Interrogation Department of the ANBU, and was not one known for his compassion.

And so, when the experienced Jonin gave the call for Team One, Minato was surprised when Tsume practically leapt to her feet, her eagerness evident in every motion. The blonde Genin raised an eyebrow at her, “Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t think you’d be so confident.”

But the Inuzuka just shrugged, her gaze fixed firmly on her new sensei, “There’s no point in complaining if the kunai doesn’t fly straight. If this is the path I’ve got to take to become a great kunoichi, then so be it.” She gave him a toothy grin as she moved toward the door, “Good luck, Minato.”

The Namikaze nodded seriously, “You too.”

And with that, the Inuzuka was gone, leaving the last of the three friends alone at the small table.

It had been a long time since Minato had not had both Masaru and Tsume by his side, even as far back as before his days in the academy. So now, sitting by himself at the desk usually occupied by the Koga and Inuzuka, he could not help but feel a tinge of regret. They had been companions since they were younger, and it was a blow that they would not be in the same Genin cell together. Minato had never been very outgoing, and had never really made any real friends beyond Tsume and Masaru, and, to a degree, Anko.

So it was no small surprise to the Namikaze when he heard the soft noise of footsteps on floorboards, and Yuzuki Uchiha lowered herself into the open space next to him. Dark hair was pulled back from her angular face, tied together in a single, efficient braid that ran down between her shoulders. Like many of the members of the legendary clan, Yuzuki carried herself with a sort of haughty aloofness, showing her pride in her origins. Coal grey eyes regarded Minato appraisingly, weighing him on an invisible set of scales.

“Minato Namikaze,” she murmured, her gaze finally meeting his, “My father tells me that you are the highest ranking Genin in this year.”

To say that the blonde Genin was shocked would be an understatement. Not by the thought that an Uchiha knew his own position and he didn’t; with their impressive intelligence network, and their position as the main body of the Konoha Military Police, he expected them to know almost everything that happened within the walls of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. No, it was the fact that he had graduated at the top of the class that surprised him most. In spite of all his boastings to Anko and his other friends, Minato had never thought that he would actually be above the Mitarashi, and to find out from the mouth of one of his future teammates was quite a shock.

As if she could somehow read his thoughts, a small smirk twisted Yuzuki’s lips, “You didn’t know?”

Minato shook his head mutely.

“I shouldn’t be surprised really,” the Uchiha said, looking back to the front of the room, “Without a clan, you wouldn’t have the kinds of connections that are necessary to find out. Of course, it is also unexpected that one from an unremarkable family such as your own would attain the highest grades in the academy.”

“Not necessarily,” the Namikaze protested, finally finding his voice in the face of the Uchiha’s superiority “A shinobi doesn’t have to come from a clan to achieve success. None of the three Sannin came from a clan, and yet they’re among the strongest shinobi in the world.”

“The Sannin were trained by a Hokage,” Yuzuki replied dismissively, “It would have been astounding, not to mention shameful, if they were anything less than what they have become today. Besides that, Tsunade was the granddaughter of the Shodai, and both Jiraiya and Orochimaru came from respectable families within the village.” She paused, “It is a matter of birth that decides a ninja’s path in life; that is why I myself was shocked when I heard that your accomplishments were beyond the rest of us.”

Minato clenched his fist beneath the table, reining in his temper with a tremendous effort, “A person does not have to be from a clan to accomplish their goals. With enough hard work and determination, anyone can be a great ninja.”

“Yeah, right,” the Uchiha snorted, “The clans are the key to success, and those with bloodline limits are that much more likely to achieve. The Uchiha are only one example, and anyone can see how far the Sharingan has advanced our position in Konoha. Even the Sannin don’t have as much influence as an entire clan. And, as you say, they are among the most powerful ninja in all the shinobi nations.”

The blonde Genin’s dawn eyes darkened, but he was just about to reply when the door slid open once more. The Namikaze and Uchiha turned as one, their gazes drawn to the decidedly strange figure standing before the class. White hair struck out in all directions, surrounding a sharp countenance that exuded a sense of power. Crimson lines ran from beneath his jaw up to his eyes, the dark pupils roaming the class with an expectant gleam.

“Team Three,” Jiraiya called.

Their argument forgotten, both Minato and Yuzuki climbed hurriedly to their feet, and somewhere behind them, there was the sound of Kiyoshi’s feet thumping on the floor as he stood up. The Toad Sannin’s eyes flickered to them straight away, and the blonde Genin could already see the assessing look contained in the brief evaluation.

Finally, the legendary shinobi seemed to finish his silent appraisal, “If you could follow me, please.”

The three Genin obeyed without hesitation, moving around their desks and descending to the floor in a rush of footsteps. Jiraiya nodded seriously to them before exiting the room. Minato looked back once, examining the faces of those who had not yet left. Some were envious, some wistful, and others even looked bored. Turning slightly, he got a last glimpse of the various charts and works that had been his life for the past three years, before joining the rest of his cell in following their new instructor.

XXXX

It was a cold day for Konoha, given that they were in the middle of a summer that should have yielded hot weather aplenty. Clouds hung high above, allowing only the occasional beam of sunlight to break the dismal weather. People hurried about the streets, not wanting to stay out in the cold morning air any more than was necessary. The cool breeze that swept through the village didn’t so much as stir the leaves on the trees that stood around the large settlement, instead serving only to chill and irritate the citizens as it blew around their ankles.

Atop the crown of the Hokage Monument, the biting wind barely ruffled the golden spikes of Minato’s hair, causing the young Genin to turn away from the railing to the scene behind him. Kiyoshi was seated lazily at the back of the small area, his back rested casually against a garden while he watched the others through half-lidded eyes. Yuzuki was standing a little further back, her eyes fixed on the figure at the top of the stairs, an air of impatience evident in her sharp features.

Jiraiya was watching them all closely, his dark eyes narrowed as he examined each of his new students. He had not spoken apart from the few words that had been necessary to summon them, and Minato was starting to feel quite unnerved by the continued silence of the Sannin. Did the older ninja not like what he saw in the three Genin that had been placed under his supervision? Why did he remain silent, quietly judging them from his position at the top of the stairs?

The young Namikaze was so concerned with his own thoughts, that he didn’t notice the sudden change of expression that flitted across the face of the famous Toad Sage. Quiet contemplation flickered to a kind of content acknowledgement, before reverting to the stoic, stern mask that he had worn since his arrival at the academy.

Standing up, the legendary shinobi looked at his three Genin again, “Alright, if you could gather over here, we can get this show started.”

The girl and the boy by the railing both started at his words, before hurrying up to join Jiraiya at the top of the stairs. The third kid, a smaller, brown haired boy, scowled, slowly climbing to his feet and ascending the flight behind the other two Genin. The Sannin gave them a final, quick inspection, and then began.

“First of all, I’d like to introduce myself,” the legendary ninja said, “My name is Jiraiya, and I am not from any clan or famous house that you would know of. I am, however, one of the Sannin, and, to be more specific, the Toad Sage of Konoha. And from now on, I will be the Jonin instructor of this cell. Are we clear so far?”

At the identical nods of the three Genin, Jiraiya continued, “Since we are going to be working as a team for a relatively long time, I think it would be better if we got to know one another first. If all goes well, we will all come out of this with a better understanding of each other. If not,” he paused, a grim smile playing at his lips, “Then at least I’ll know what I have to work with. Alright then; you, Sanada, go first.”

Kiyoshi’s grimace never faded, his calm tone sounding very forced in the chilled air above the monument, “My name is Kiyoshi Sanada, and I am the son of one of the Hokage’s personal assistants. I like spending time with my brother, Tetsuo, and learning about the specialized techniques of the other clans. I have no real goals, apart from a wish for a simple and long life.”

Jiraiya made no outward reaction, but inside he was skeptical about the boy’s motivation. He turned to Yuzuki, “You’re up next.”

“I am Yuzuki Uchiha,” she started, and the Sannin barely restrained a frown at the self-importance in her tone, “I am the daughter of the Head of the Second House of the Uchiha clan. I enjoy learning new fire techniques with my father, and studying the aspects of the Sharingan. My goal is to unlock the Sharingan, and become the new Head of the Second House.”

The older shinobi merely bobbed his head, before turning to his final student, not allowing the sinking feeling the other two Genin had given him to show on his face, “And you, kid.”

For a moment, Minato hesitated, unsure of the legendary shinobi’s motives. But as the Sannin smiled encouragingly, the blonde Genin summoned up his courage from the depth of his being, hiding his uncertainty behind a mask of false composure, “My name is Minato Namikaze, and I do not come from any of the clans or houses that you will find within the walls of this village. I enjoy learning new techniques of any sort, and spending time with my friends Tsume and Masaru. I believe in accomplishment through hard work, and my goal is to become the greatest shinobi that has ever been.”

Jiraiya nodded approvingly at the Namikaze, hiding his full jubilation at the boy’s candor, but addressed the whole group when he spoke, “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I have something to tell you. In spite of what you may have been told, you are not yet fully qualified Genin.”

The three children had varying responses to this. Minato’s eyes widened in surprise, dismay glinting in the grey depths as he stared at the older ninja in disbelief, while Kiyoshi seemed to be caught in a shocked stupor. However, it was the Uchiha who had the loudest protest, “Surely, you are joking? We all passed the graduation exams, and therefore, we are all Genin of Konoha.”

“In theory,” the Sannin chortled, amused by their indignation, “You’d be surprised by some of the quirks that this job has, and this is just one of them. Completing that test was the easy part; it was an effective way to weed out the really hopeless cases. It’s my job to give you an exam of my own invention, one that will allow me to judge whether or not you are worthy of the name Genin.”

Yuzuki’s outrage was obvious, “You don’t have the power to go through with this.”

“Oh I think you will find that I do,” the older man countered, “As I’m sure you know, the title of Toad Sannin carries quite a bit of weight in this village, and that my influence is probably greater than you can comprehend. In any case, according to the laws of the Shodai Hokage, all people attempting to qualify as shinobi are required to not only pass an examination by their academy instructor, but to complete a task set by their Jonin instructor in order to become a Genin of Konoha.”

Yuzuki fell into a sullen silence at that, unwilling to risk the wrath of her father if she failed to impress her new teacher. Instead, for the first time since their arrival at the peak of the mountain, Kiyoshi spoke without prompting, although his expression belied his apparent keenness, “So, if we are to go through with this test, when will it be?”

Minato looked curious, while the Uchiha tried to put on a pretense of indifference while still listening intently. And, also for the first time since their arrival at the Hokage Monument, Jiraiya allowed his firm appearance to slip, replaced with something that was akin to a smug grin, “I have arranged three tasks, one for each of you to complete. As for the when, well, most Jonin instructors give their students one night to prepare for the exam. However, as I am not most Jonin instructors, I think that as shinobi of Konoha, you should always be prepared. Thus, I will be giving you your test now.”

Ignoring the outraged cry from Yuzuki, the Sannin reached into the pouch on his hip, carefully extracting three small scrolls, handing one to each of his new students, “These are your mission objectives. They are relatively simple tests, in principle, as they are nothing more than retrieval tasks. The only goal is to bring back your designated objective before noon, which by my guess is somewhere around three hours away.”

“There are rules, though,” he continued, his dark eyes hard as the three flipped open their scrolls, “No matter what task you are assigned, you may not share the details of that mission with your teammates. Nor will you be able to seek them out for help. This exam’s purpose is to give me an opportunity to evaluate your skills and see if you really are worthy to become Genin. If any of you choose to break the rules, do not think that I will hesitate to fail you.”

Jiraiya was not really surprised when Minato was the only one showing signs of unease at this statement; Yuzuki was still scowling, while Kiyoshi hadn’t so much as given the scroll in his hand a second glance. Slowly sitting back down, he gestured toward the city with his hand, his eyes never leaving his pupils, “I suggest you get going; you’ve got less than three hours.”

Minato nodded once, his nervousness replaced by a resolute expression as he bowed once to his new instructor, the words, “Jiraiya-sensei” barely audible as he turned and hurried toward the nearest stair. Kiyoshi followed more casually, his hunched shoulders proclaiming his lack of concern in his task. But the Toad Sage wasn’t entirely surprised when Yuzuki didn’t budge, her dark eyes fixed firmly on the legendary ninja in a look of blazing defiance.

“I refuse,” the Uchiha said tersely, holding the scroll out to the Sannin.

“Then you will fail,” Jiraiya replied firmly, not so much as twitching toward the proffered object.

“You can’t do this,” Yuzuki snarled, “When my father hears about this, he will-”

“Do what, exactly?” the legendary shinobi enquired coolly, “As far as the law goes, I am well within my rights to test any Genin that may come to be under my responsibility. And we both know that it’s highly doubtful that anyone would be foolish enough to challenge me. So unless you want to go straight back to the academy, I think you should probably get started.”

“Do you have any idea who I am?” the Uchiha sneered arrogantly, but was beaten to the punch by the Sannin.

“Yes, as it is, I know exactly who you are,” Jiraiya said calmly, “And do not presume to think that you will be receiving any extra attentions just because you are an Uchiha. I care nothing for bloodline limits and special abilities, so make sure you don’t ever value your clan’s Sharingan over your own skills. If you have nothing beyond what you’re born with, than you have nothing at all.”

“But the task you have set me is impossible,” the young girl spluttered, brandishing the scroll in his face, “Only a complete idiot would think that they could actually accomplish this.”

“I don’t know about you,” Jiraiya replied mildly, “But I don’t think either of your teammates struck me as idiots. In fact, I wouldn’t hesitate to say that you’re the fool for wasting my time and yours, while you should be trying to achieve your objective.”

Yuzuki gave the older ninja a last, contemptuous look before rolling up the scroll and slipping it into her pouch. With a very strained, “Jiraiya-sensei”, and a miniscule tilt of her head, the kunoichi raced across the mountain’s peak and disappeared over the lip of the staircase.

The Toad Sannin’s face dropped as soon as the Uchiha was beyond his sight, a profound weariness settling on the sharp features. Standing tiredly, he walked slowly over to the edge of the mountain, leaning forward on the rusted railing. Far below, he could see the bright, blonde blur that was Minato as he neared the bottom of his descent, the young Namikaze’s determination evident as he rushed to complete his task. A little way behind him, Kiyoshi Sanada was seen moving sluggishly down the stairs, his posture anything but eager. And finally, the small figure of Yuzuki was dashing down from the top of the stairs, already reluctantly hurrying to begin work on her own objective.

A long sigh escaped the throat of the Toad Sage of Konoha, his dark eyes despondent as he gazed down at the stone chiseled features of his own onetime Jonin instructor. As far as he could see, training this team was going to be a nightmare. And that was assuming that they even managed to pass his little test.

“Worried about your students already, Jiraiya?”

The Sannin didn’t turn around at the sound of the older man’s voice, instead allowing the barest hint of a smile to flit across his features, “So, you can still read me that easily, Sarutobi-sensei?”

“I’ve known you since you first walked out those academy doors,” the Sandaime chuckled, “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I can’t recognize your problems just because you’re one of the Legendary Three, and I’m growing into a frail old man.” His face became serious, “Now tell me what the trouble is.”

Jiraiya shook his head, a rueful grin touching his lips, “You don’t have to concern yourself with it, sensei. I wouldn’t want to distract you from your work.”

“I thought you knew me better, Jiraiya,” the Professor said, all the firmness of a teacher present in his tone, “And I will not have one of my prized students wallowing in some self-induced misery. Now, what’s wrong?”

The Toad Sage, veritably rebuked by his former teacher, gave the current Hokage a pained expression, “It’s just the team itself; nothing about them works. The boy, Kiyoshi; he couldn’t care less that he has been placed on a three man squad, while that Uchiha girl’s only out for herself. That Namikaze kid, he has potential, but he doesn’t have the confidence to go for it. They’re like three pieces to a puzzle that aren’t the right size or shape to fit together!”

There was a moment of silence on the mountaintop, the two legendary ninja of Konoha staring out over the city that had been their home for so long. On the lowest reaches of the Monument, Yuzuki had finally reached the end of the much-worn track to the city below, and was rapidly disappearing into the warren of empty streets and towering trees that was the Hidden Leaf.

Sarutobi shook his head, turning to his student with a faint smile, “You know, when I first accepted you three as my Genin cell, I honestly believed that I had been handed out divine punishment for some sin in a former life. You were the worst students any Jonin could have; two Genin who could barely control their chakra due to having absolutely enormous stores, and a third who had almost no chakra at all. And to top it off, no matter how hard I tried, none of you could ever get along. But now, I look back, and I’m surprised that I ever thought that way. For you have all grown into the finest students any Jonin would ever want.”

Jiraiya didn’t reply, a silent question in his eyes as he looked at his teacher. The Sandaime sighed, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “However, in those early days it was always I who had to turn you back on to the right path, on those occasions when you strayed from it.” The Professor paused, “Sometimes, if the pieces don’t always fit, you have to change the shape of the board. If you have faith in them, they will have faith in you.”

The Toad Sage remained immobile, his gaze lingering over the Village Hidden in the Leaves. With a whisper of wind, the old man was gone, a flurry of leaves the only sign that he had ever been. Alone once more, Jiraiya looked down on the avenues of Konoha, his weariness gradually fading into a resolved expression.

If the playing board must change, then so be it.

Chronicles of the Yondaime

Chapter 3

The Three Scrolls

The cold was retaining its icy grip on the Hidden Leaf, the clouds swirling high above darkening in a clear promise of rain. Many of the stores and stalls lining the edges of the shinobi settlement’s roads had closed up for the day, unwilling to risk their business in the face of the approaching storm. Along the walls of the city, a number of solitary figures could be seen, immobile as they kept their silent vigil over the large city, the white fan of the Uchiha crest visible for all to see.

The hollow streets echoed with the sound of swift footsteps, the few people walking the dusty road turning inquisitively to see the source of the disturbance. Few were quick enough to catch the yellow blur that dashed past them where they stood, the hurried figure leaving naught but a slight breeze in his wake.

Minato panted slightly as he rushed down the stony avenues, his harried mind not even registering the surprised expressions on the faces of the citizens he passed. His eyes were fixed tightly on the lane before him, his feet moving instinctively as they carried him towards his destination. His lungs burned, yet he ignored the pain. His thoughts were elsewhere, wandering back to the scroll that was still clenched in his fist, and at the mere thought of his task, the blonde Genin felt a surge of frustration.

While Jiraiya had not lied when he said it was a retrieval mission, he had done a very good job of distorting the truth. The task that Minato had been given was far from simple, as the Toad Sage had originally said, and the boy was having doubts that he would ever be able to accomplish it. What with the Sannin requesting it be done before noon, leaving little to no chance for plausible planning, his chances of being back at the peak of the Hokage Monument to be fully instated as a Konoha Genin were looking worse than ever.

A small frown crossed the Namikaze’s visage as he sped around a corner, almost tearing apart the soles of his sandals as he skidded onto the next street. In spite of the impassive front he had put on for the three of them, Minato knew that the Sannin was less than awed by the students who had been selected to be trained under him. Even being optimistic, the blonde ninja knew that they had not made a very good impression on the renowned Toad Sage.

Resolving to think about that later, the Genin turned his attention back to the issue at hand. Even with the skills he possessed, completing Jiraiya’s assignment would be no easy feat. Whenever the class had undergone on an educational trip in the academy, Hideyoshi would always give them at least two hours to prepare, in which Minato would usually hurry home to pick up most of the things that he would need on such an excursion. The Sannin had even said himself that most teams would not be receiving their own tests until the next day. But with the Toad Sage’s decision to move the exam forward, Minato found himself lacking the preparation time to return and pick up the tools he would usually require while carrying out such a task.

Speeding around another corner, his ninja fatigues nothing more than a white splash as he rushed towards his destination, the Namikaze began a quick mental inventory of all the gear he had on him. In the pouch on his hip, he knew that he had three kunai, two of which were recently sharpened, as well as a short reel of ninja wire, and a handful of shuriken. Additionally, he had an unused scroll and pen tucked securely into the rim of his pants.

On top of that, he had the three basic techniques that they had taught him in the academy. But as far as he could see, none of those would be any use at all in the upcoming test. The instructors had warned them that the basic Bunshin were useless against all but the most simplistic of enemies, and even the Kawarimi would be no use except as an instrument of escape. The only possible jutsu he could use was a Henge, but even that would be a risk in a situation as volatile as the one he was entering.

All in all, it was not exactly an ideal list of tools for the undertaking ahead.

Two members of the Konoha Military Police stared at the young Genin as he raced past them, their thick cloaks fluttering in the wake of the bright yellow flash. But, as before, Minato barely even noticed. A quick glance to the skies, clouded though they were, told him everything he needed to know. There was only a bit more than two hours left before he had to be back at the peak of the Hokage Mountain, his objective in hand and ready to give to his new teacher.

He felt a surge of relief as he rounded the next bend, his gaze at last falling on the current home of the object he had to retrieve. Not wasting a moment, he hurriedly began to scan the area, his feet never stopped as he searched for a way to successfully accomplish his mission. But even as he did so, his heart began to sink. Everywhere he looked, the masked figures of the Hidden Leaf’s Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai could be seen patrolling the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, their armoured forms watching all possible avenues of escape for any potential intruders. Even the Uchiha-run Military Police had a few squads stationed at various points along the street, their crest displayed threateningly to warn off any interlopers.

And as most of those were Jonin level shinobi, it would be an outside chance for a Genin as inexperienced as himself to successfully complete this mission.

Hoping to avoid too much attention this early in his work, the blonde quickly dropped his pace to a hasty trot, almost willing the shinobi on guard to look away from him. He could feel their countless eyes on him, scrutinizing and assessing, as they deemed whether or not he was a threat to their charge. It was like a weight on his back, and he could already feel himself slowing from the pressure that the innumerable gazes seemed to place on him. And all the while, the question of how in the world he was going to actually pull this off was running through his head.

With a growing feeling of despair in his belly, but a fierce determination raging in his eyes, the Namikaze hurried down the road towards his target.

The Tower of the Hokage.

XXXX

Yuzuki Uchiha was not someone who was used to being told what to do. Only her father had ever truly reprimanded her, and he was often more busy training Katashi to bother with her in any case. The other members of the Second House never dared to attempt to control the heir, as she had more than enough power and influence to have any of them punished. Of course, the First House usually gave orders to the Second, but that was a part of the Uchiha custom, and Yuzuki never questioned it.

Nonetheless, it was a new experience for her when someone actually refused to do as she wished.

While it was true that Jiraiya was one of the legendary Sannin, and she a mere Genin, it was unthinkable in her mind that he would ignore a direct request in the name of the Uchiha Clan. In her eyes, no one man could stand up against an entire clan, especially if that clan happened to be the most prestigious in Konoha. But instead, the fool had chosen to send her to complete the task anyway, regardless of the sheer lunacy of the assignment’s nature.

Yuzuki’s eyes darkened as she glared up at the towering walls of the Hyuuga Compound from the shrubbery that surrounded it, her dislike of her assigned Jonin instructor growing by the second.

In spite of the relative harmony with which the two clans maintained in the Hidden Leaf, the ancient rivalries between the Byakugan and Sharingan were still very much alive. No Hyuuga had been allowed within the walls of the Uchiha Compound in nearly two decades, and, as far as Yuzuki could remember, it was the same for the members of the copycat clan. The two clans’ longstanding contention, and the jealousy with which they protected the secrets of their bloodline limits, ensured that there would never be an end to the tensions that ruled between Hyuuga and Uchiha.

Scowling at the heights of the Byakugan users’ defenses, the young Uchiha slowly began to move along the base of the tall stone barriers, sharp eyes probing for the smallest sign of weakness. From the time when she had first learned to walk, she had been trained in the way of the Uchiha, learning skills and talents that were far above that of her peers, so that some day she may grow into a powerful kunoichi of the Hidden Leaf. But now, with her goal apparently beyond reach, it appeared that a simple retrieval mission may end her days as a Genin before they had begun.

The thought had scarcely touched her mind when she stomped it out mercilessly. One of the earliest lessons that Yuzuki remembered was to never resign oneself to failure in a task that had been set by your superiors, especially when it may have an impact on the clan itself. And the kunoichi was sure that even though it was true that she was only a member of the Second House, her father would not be pleased that his daughter, an Uchiha, had failed at an exam that was, by all accounts, a relatively simple one.

However, knowing that she couldn’t give up did not help the young heir find a way over the huge obstacle that stood between her and the object she had to recover.

As she continued her solitary trek around the edges of the huge estate, the wall gradually began to slant away to her left, until at last it stretched out to form the imposing bulk that was the gates of the large compound. In the shadow of the tall structure, two members of the Branch House of the Hyuuga Clan were standing guard, their all-seeing Byakugan inactive as they stared out of the opening vigilantly. Yuzuki almost snorted aloud when she caught sight of the suppressive Caged Bird upon the sentinels’ brows; a more barbaric and useless custom she had never heard of.

Crouching down in the undergrowth at a safe distance from the entrance, the young Uchiha quickly analyzed her options. As far as she could see, there was almost no chance of her getting in through the front gate, as no sane Hyuuga would ever allow one of the heirs to his clan’s greatest competitor through those gates without the express permission of the current clan head, or the Sandaime Hokage himself. A Henge was too risky, as she couldn’t count on the chance that one of the guards might see through it. Any distractions were also out of the question, as Yuzuki knew that the faintest disturbance would undoubtedly lead to the two guards initiating the unique abilities of their bloodline limits, and the Uchiha didn’t fancy herself lucky enough to remain in the tiny blind spot that each had.

That left going back and finding some way to get over the wall, and somehow managing to avoid attracting the attention of everyone within the impressive estate.

A dark scowl remained firmly in place on Yuzuki’s features as she backed away from the gate stealthily, breaking into a hurried run as she moved out of sight. She had spent the better part of her first hour scouring the huge barricade for even the smallest crack in the impassible barrier, but to no avail. There were no irregularities or cracks on the surface of the white stone, leaving no chance for the Uchiha to scale the wall by hand. The kunoichi refused to consider the fact that she might not have the strength for such a deed herself.

Yuzuki was so busy glaring at the confounding barrier that she almost missed the appearance of a small boy in the shadow of the Hyuuga wall. It was only when the short figure began running his hands experimentally over a length of wall that the Uchiha finally saw him, hurriedly ducking back into the undergrowth to avoid being seen.

The lad was a Hyuuga, that much being obvious from the entirely white orbs of the Byakugan. Dark hair hung to his waist, and Yuzuki could see the unmistakably arrogant manner with which the boy carried himself. And judging from what she could distinguish in the darkness of the wall, he was also a member of the unchained Main House, a rare sight in a place such as this.

Watching with mounting interest, the Uchiha almost clapped with glee as the youthful Hyuuga finally seemed to find what he was looking for, rapping a seemingly blank section of stone three times. There was a moment of silence, and then a long seam began to appear on the smooth rock, rapidly lengthening and curving into the shape of a door. Yuzuki’s coal eyes widened as the stone suddenly disappeared, the seemingly solid structure giving way to reveal the entrance to a carefully concealed passage.

Not hesitating, the boy quickly slipped into the opening, the darkness of the tunnel swallowing him up instantly.

Yuzuki waited warily in the shadow of the shrubs, her gaze never leaving the new entrance to the Hyuuga Compound. She was no fool; she knew that the chances of a clan member just happening along and revealing a hidden passage at the precise moment of her arrival were beyond small. Years of training had taught her better than to run in to any situation blindly. And yet, a single glance to the heavens told her that she was rapidly running out of time.

Finally, the kunoichi’s impatience overrode her caution. Standing slowly, the Uchiha slipped silently out of the brush, hurriedly moving to stand in the shade of the wall. Inching forwards, she peered guardedly around the corner, her dark eyes scanning the shadows for a sign of the young Byakugan user. Apart from a bright patch of light at the other end of the short tunnel, nothing was visible in the inky depths; all traces of the Main House boy were gone.

She started forward, but hesitated as a thought struck her. As she was an Uchiha, and a member of the Second House no less, the penalty for being caught trespassing on the grounds of the renowned Jyuuken users would undoubtedly be a harsh one. And she knew, no matter what her reasons, that the Uchiha clan would lose standing with the rest of Konoha if she were to receive any sort of punishment at the hands of the Hyuuga. At worst, the clan may even go so far as to wash its hands of the young heir, disowning her in the interest of preserving the name of the Sharingan users.

Yuzuki shivered at that notion, the very thought of being cast out of the prestigious clan almost too much to bear. She had been a part of the reclusive group of fire masters for her whole life, and the idea that this small test could lose all she had gained weighed down on her mind heavily. Yet she couldn’t return empty-handed and risk failure, as that would also make the possibility of bringing shame upon the Uchiha.

Curse the Toad Sannin for putting her in the middle of this dilemma.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure that she wasn’t being watched, the dark look never leaving her face, Yuzuki vanished into the walls of the Hyuuga Compound, swallowed up by the shadows.

XXXX

Kiyoshi pushed through the doors of the hospital with a reluctant shove, his dark countenance set in a bored expression. In his eyes, this whole test was a colossal waste of valuable time and skills. There seemed to be little point in making them take one exam to graduate from the academy, and then threatening to send them back to the academy if they failed to succeed in another.

That wasn’t to say that the Sanada was unconcerned about the outcome of this little trial; far from it. For the most part, the disinterest that was eternally present in his bearing was not because of any fault of his own doing, despite what some would believe. No, the greatest reason for his façade of unending boredom was his inherent lack of ability in the more physical aspects of being a shinobi.

But while none of his taijutsu, genjutsu or ninjutsu were even remotely close to being on the same plane as the other members of his graduating class, Kiyoshi knew that his own skills in deception and subterfuge far outweighed most of the Genin his age. The indifferent countenance he usually wore was merely a mask of indolence he had developed in his ineffectiveness, hiding the truth in his lack of talent in the other ninja arts. And for the most part, it was a very useful tool, and he seldom dropped it for anyone.

However, that did not change the fact that he would have to utilize all of his skills to complete Jiraiya’s task if he wanted to become a true shinobi of Konoha.

To his surprise, the entrance hall was relatively empty, in spite of its position in the heart of a shinobi village. Here and there, medics could be seen moving in and out of various wards, making notes as they scurried between patients. At the far end of the hall, a set of wooden double doors stood closed, a pair of Chuunin standing attentively at their post.

Sighing, the young Sanada retrieved the scroll from the back of his pouch, frowning at the neatly printed kanji. According to his new teacher’s instructions, his objective and target was another scroll, slightly larger than the one he already held, this marked with the symbol of the Toad Sannin of Konoha. Unfortunately, the information that the older shinobi had given him also stated exactly where to find the scroll. While some may have considered this a good thing, Kiyoshi knew otherwise; for the scroll’s orders were leading directly through the heavily protected door.

Frowning, the short Genin glanced around the lobby probingly, a chart pinned up on the wall of the foyer catching his attention. The few other people in the small hall barely gave him a second glance, most too concerned with their own problems to worry about the new arrival. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the two Chuunin on guard watching him curiously, their interest piqued by the Leaf Hitai-ate wrapped around his neck.

Irritated by the notice he had already attracted, the dark haired Genin quickly made his way over to the guide pinned up on the foyer wall, feigning casual disinterest as he scanned the register. But behind the unenthusiastic expression, a shrewd mind was at work. He may not have been the strongest or fastest student at the academy, but Kiyoshi was far from an idiot. He knew that the only reason he graduated was due to the sharp intellect hidden behind his disgruntled scowl.

And no matter what others thought of him, he planned to use it to his advantage.

His eyes skimmed over the long list quickly, flickering over a couple of familiar labels, finally landing on the name and identification number that he was looking for.

Memorizing the details scribed on the notice, the Sanada turned and sauntered leisurely over to the seats that lined the waiting room, the identical stares of the two Chuunin on watch following his every move. Taking his seat slowly, the dark haired boy allowed his gaze to drift across the few other hospital patrons seated in the foyer.

Apart from himself and the two older shinobi, there were only four patients waiting for a medic’s treatment. Of these, two seemed to be ninja themselves; it was unmistakable in the barely suppressed aura of lethality that surrounded the pair. From the bandages that were wrapped around their arms, he guessed that they had recently come back from a mission, more than likely from some distant and exotic location. The other two patrons were merely nondescript civilians; one a heavily pregnant dark haired woman, and the other an older man with the first wisps of grey in his hair.

Kiyoshi made no outward reaction as he glanced away, but inside, his calculative mind was filing the information away. His thoughts lingered for a moment on one of the two injured shinobi; there was something not right about the older man, and that had nothing to do with the apparent wounded right arm that the more experienced ninja was nursing gently in a sling. An impatient scowl twisted the man’s scarred features, a few lines of grey streaking his dark hair. A swift peek at the almost hidden name tag told him the shinobi’s name was Danjuro Kita, a quite common name in any case.

Despite his doubts, and much to the Sanada’s chagrin, he couldn’t quite put his finger on whatever it was.

Kiyoshi wasn’t a person who liked uncertainty.

A quick glance out the window told him that he was rapidly running out of time. Turning slightly, he put on a neutral expression, hiding the reality that his thoughts were racing as he tried to come up with a way to pass the Chuunin sentries. They were undoubtedly well-trained in recognizing deception, as they would have to be in order to guard the valuable medical records of the various clans. It would be near impossible to lie to them, and then expect them to believe him without any sort of proof.

At that moment, the older shinobi got slowly to his feet, whispering something to his female partner before shuffling slowly towards one of the small rooms that led off the main hall, his discomfort evident as he shifted his injured limb carefully. Kiyoshi followed the man with his eyes, watching warily as he disappeared through the shuttered doors. In the corners of his astute mind, the first vestiges of a plan were taking shape.

All it would take was one more element, and if he was correct in his suspicions about the older shinobi, then he would be that much closer to success.

It was only a couple of minutes before the silence was broken once more. Behind the disinterested scowl, Kiyoshi felt a surge of expectancy as the two doors that were under the watch of the two Chuunin opened slowly, and an elderly nurse emerged. She was dressed in the standard grey robes of the Konoha Medic Service, and the swirling insignia of the Hidden Leaf was stitched in black embroidery on the nurse’s breast.

Taking a brief glance at her notes, the woman looked up, sharp eyes scanning the waiting room, “Kita, Danjuro.”

And with that announcement, the last pieces of his plan fell into place. Keeping a tight reign on his eagerness, and ensuring his bored mask was still in place, the Sanada hastily put on an air of impatience; the face of a patient who had to suffer through the flaws of his fellow infirmary patrons. Turning his head slightly, he watched with the contrived irritation of a boy who has been kept waiting as the injured kunoichi who had been with Kita caught the medic’s attention, “He slipped into the back rooms to adjust his bandages, but I’m sure he will be out any second.”

The nurse nodded shortly, turning on her heel and disappearing through the doors, glancing over her shoulder as she went, “Well, if you could tell him to step through here when he’s ready, we will be able to begin surgery.”

Being careful to keep his expression as that of the annoyed patient, Kiyoshi stood up languidly, turning unhurriedly to catch the gaze of the injured kunoichi, “If you want, I can go and tell him that it’s his turn.”

The more experienced ninja seemed surprised, but her appearance was grateful as she smiled at him, “Thanks. He’s in one of the rooms at the end of the corridor.”

Nodding with false irritation, the small Sanada moved leisurely over to the row of doors at the end of the hall, inwardly cursing that he hadn’t thought to feign an injury when he arrived. Attempting to block out the feeling of the two Chuunin’s eyes on him, he made his way over to the shuttered door, and pushed through without a backward glance.

The room was a tiny one, one of those that were designed to give the medics a place to carry out check ups and counseling sessions with the shinobi folk of the Hidden Leaf, mostly for those who had been under a heavy emotional for a long period of time. Tall diagrams and charts of the human body lined the wooden paneled walls, the small space filled with the sharp scent of polished timber.

And, although the Sanada was not really surprised by it, there was no sign of the man known as Danjuro Kita.

Of course, this almost certainly had something to do with the fact that his brother had come home just three days ago with the news that he would be leaving on a week long mission to the northern, and more mountainous parts, of the Land of Fire. A mission that was only C-rank, yet still required a three man team to carry out. And the two shinobi that his brother had stated he would be traveling with were a ninja of the Aburame clan, and one Danjuro Kita.

Smirking triumphantly, Kiyoshi forced down a rush of excitement. He knew that even though he had been right in his reservations about the more experienced shinobi, the hardest part was still to come. His skills were a far cry from being ideal for the task he had been given, but he would have to make do.

Turning around, he peered through the wooden shutters, confirming that none of the few people in the entrance hall were paying the small room where he stood the slightest bit of attention. The two Chuunin appeared to be engaged in amiable conversation, while the kunoichi that had appeared to be the partner of the elusive Danjuro sat in pensive silence. All of whom would have enough talent and understanding to recognize any illusion he attempted if he wasn’t careful.

While his Henge wasn’t perfect, the only advantage he could hope to gain from using it was the truth that none of the ninja gathered in the foyer were expecting an infiltration such as this to occur right under their noses. Assuming that even in his crippled state that the odd Danjuro would be more than a match for a mere Genin, they would never suspect that Kiyoshi had taken his place. And with his minimal chakra reserves, and barely passable control, he knew that any of his appearance alteration techniques would only last for several minutes at most, giving him a very small time frame to get from the entrance hall on the lowest floor, to his mission objective in the offices atop the building.

For the first time since making the decision to become a shinobi of Konoha, Kiyoshi felt relief rather than anger that his ability to mould his chakra was as dismal as it was. Due to what most other ninja would see as a major drawback to his skills, the Sanada could be assured that no excess chakra would be wasted, thus allowing him to avoid detection. On the other hand, his poor control and the severe drain on his reserves could cause the illusion he was trying to create to waver prematurely, causing his downfall before he ever began.

Steeling himself to his task, the young boy stood before the polished wood of the door, pushed his fingers into the required seal, and carefully channeled his chakra through it.

“Henge.”

Moments later, Danjuro Kita emerged from the small room, a mixture of irritation and discomfort splayed across his heavily scarred features. He shifted his wounded arm tenderly, being careful not to move the injured limb too hastily. The other hospital patrons glimpsed up at the older shinobi as he shuffled out, the kunoichi who appeared to be his companion giving him a weary smile, a hint of confusion visible in her worn features, as if wondering where the boy she had sent to retrieve him had vanished to.

Kiyoshi struggled to restrain a triumphant smirk, forcing the features of the disfigured Danjuro to remain fixed in a frustrated grimace. He could already feel the taxing drain the minor illusion was having on his pathetic reserves, and he couldn’t afford to have his efforts wasted because of something as simple as a facial expression.

The two Chuunin barely spared him a glance, only nodding at him shortly as they continued their vigil. Grunting softly, Kiyoshi shifted the illusion of the sling gently, hurriedly moving to push the door open with Danjuro’s good hand. And for the shortest moment, the Sanada believed that he would make it. If all went according to plan, he could be on the top floor within a few minutes, retrieve the scroll, and have left the hospital before anyone noticed that Danjuro was missing.

And then it happened.

A pulse of chakra roared through the sparse entrance hall, the sheer strength of the blast shredding the peace as chaos erupted in the foyer. All around the room, panes rattled in their frames of lustrously lacquered wood, while stacks of neatly piled papers flew into a whirlwind of disarray. The two civilian patrons looked around, their confusion evident as they looked upon the turmoil. The three shinobi in the room were not nearly so reserved. The supposedly injured kunoichi whipped a kunai out of its hiding place in the sling on her left arm, while the two Chuunin drew their own weapons, their eyes sharp as they looked for danger.

Unfortunately, the huge pulse also rendered all of Kiyoshi’s carefully restricted control useless, utterly destroying his hold on the technique, and dropping the Henge.

For the sheerest moment, the three older shinobi in the room stood immobile, their shock obvious as they stared at the much shorter form of Kiyoshi. The unspoken question of what had happened to the actual Danjuro weighed like a stone on the room’s atmosphere. It only took them a further second to act, their weapons in hand as they took a step toward the Genin. But already, they were too late.

Kiyoshi took a deep breath as he rushed toward the door, knowing his task was doomed the instant that the chakra flare tore apart any semblance of power he had over his own illusion. He was not one to take hopeless risks, and he was sharp enough to know that there was not even the slightest chance that he would be able to retrieve the objective without being either caught or injured by any of the dozens of shinobi that would in all likelihood be present in the winding corridors of the infirmary.

He scowled as the kunoichi leapt at him, barely ducking in time to avoid a swipe from a kunai, before leaping to his feet and hurrying toward the entrance. Behind him, he could hear the rapid footsteps of the two Chuunin, and he could almost see the kunai and shuriken in their hands as they drew them back to throw. The two non-shinobi patients rushed to get out of his way as he tore past, their fear and bewilderment clear for all to see.

Kiyoshi spun through the door just in time, slamming it as a handful of razor sharp blades studded the edges of the frame, splintering the wood that held the shuttered entry in place. Rushing out through the lush grounds that surrounded the hospital, the Sanada didn’t look back, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead of him.

The first drops of rain fell slowly, pattering softly on the stones of the paved roads of the Hidden Leaf as Kiyoshi rushed along the path that would lead him back toward the Hokage Monument, the few people on the roads barely sparing him a glance. In the back of his mind, in the place that was not entirely focused on his escape, he knew that he had failed. Even if he attempted to return and complete his objective, he had only slightly longer than an hour and one half to do so; nowhere near enough time to retrieve the scroll from a building that would now be swarming with ninja on alert.

Instead, he ran along the road that led to the man who may have been his teacher, with the knowledge that he had been defeated burning in his thoughts. And, as he moved swiftly onward, the disinterest that often dressed his ordinary features was gone, replaced by a small, wistful expression, as one thought drifted to the forefront of his mind.

How did I get it wrong?