I was at home, leaning back on the cool wooden floor the way I usually did, staring up at the ceiling mural that was finally starting to take shape. This one was going to be much larger than the last. The brushstrokes reached far beyond the center now, spilling into every corner I could reach. Spiraling galaxies swirled beside curling clouds, twisting trees stretched toward painted horizons, and animals prowled or drifted in between. Some sections were clean and realistic, others warped into strange shapes that felt like they belonged in dreams. A few were so abstract I could not even name them. All I knew was that I liked it. It kept my hands busy and my head quiet in a way nothing else did.
The door creaked open, and I did not need to look to know who it was.
"Look who came back," I called out.
Something rustled through the air, and a bag of sweets landed in my hands. I caught it without thinking and raised an eyebrow.
"Wow, someone's feeling generous today."
Genta dropped onto the floor beside me with the weight of someone who had been carrying frustration all day. His sigh spread into the room like it had been waiting for hours to escape. "Our sensei was trying to cheer us up after we got stuck with a pretty lame first mission."
I tilted my head toward him. "Your jonin sensei didn't test you first or something?"
He gave a short nod. "We were tested."
That made me turn my head fully. "What kind of test?"
"A fight. Three-on-one against him. My team's me, Shizuru, and Aburame Shota."
I smirked. "Shizuru's on your team? You're set. She'll keep your plans sharp and make sure you don't run in blind."
A faint smirk pulled at his lips, the kind that said he was replaying the match in his head and enjoying it more the second time. "Her timing's sharp, and she can read my moves without me saying anything. Shota's good too, but he's not used to working in a team yet. Still, his insects are great for controlling space and sneaky hits."
He leaned back slightly. "Our jonin sensei is Fuma Masahide." There was a note of respect in his voice that I did not hear often. "You can tell right away he is the kind who plans five steps ahead. In the test, it did not take long for him to show it. Every movement had a purpose, every step feeding into something bigger. When he shifted his stance, it was not just to avoid an attack. It was to steer us exactly where he wanted. We did not even realize what he was doing until it was too late. By the time we caught on, he had us boxed in."
"Sounds like you had fun," I said.
"Shizuru and I worked well together," he admitted, letting a bit of pride slip through. "Shota even managed to pressure our sensei a couple of times, which is saying something. Just making him adjust his footing felt like an achievement. If we had more time together, I think we could have at least forced him to work a little harder."
His brow furrowed slightly, like one detail still did not make sense to him. "At one point, Shota sent his insects in, and they just stopped, like they had hit an invisible wall. I have no idea what our sensei did, but it was like he cut off part of the battlefield without even moving."
I snorted. "You've got a good team combo. Look at you clan kids, sticking together."
Genta punched me in the arm. Which hurt. "Yeah, but our sensei is the kind who makes you feel like you are the one messing up, even when you are not. Before you know it, you are reacting to him instead of fighting your own way."
"Sounds interesting," I muttered, letting my gaze drift back to the painted galaxies above.
After a moment, Genta asked, "So, who's on your team?"
I sighed. "I have Sena."
His tone brightened instantly. "Nice. She will make sure you do not get cocky. She will keep you alive."
I punched him back, harder than I intended. He groaned and clutched his arm. "Your hits are getting dangerous. Stop messing around with that hand," he complained.
Before he could try to get me back, I added, "Kaen is our third."
Genta froze. His face stayed flat for a few seconds, then cracked wide open before he burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter. I covered my eyes with one hand, shaking my head as he kept going. The laughter rolled on, echoing in the room, even as the sound of approaching footsteps grew closer.
A large hand dropped onto Genta's head. The noise that came out of him was more of a yelp than a laugh. He collapsed to the floor, rolling while clutching his head. Standing behind him was his father, tall and radiating pure menace, his fist still trembling from the blow.
"Why didn't you come to your father first to tell him about your team assignment, you stupid kid?" Takemaru barked.
Without giving him time to answer, Takemaru lunged. Genta scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the far side of the room. What followed was a chaotic chase, father and son weaving around furniture, the thud of footsteps mixing with Genta's pained shouts. Every time Takemaru's hand connected, Genta let out a fresh groan before managing to dodge the next swing.
I let out a long sigh and lay back down, staring at the painted galaxies above me as their commotion echoed through the house.
Eventually, Genta ended up back on the floor, groaning. Takemaru looked down at him, then turned his attention to me as I explained Genta's team lineup.
"Fuma Masahide," he repeated, his voice carrying a weight I rarely heard from him. "That man has a name for a reason. He is one of the few jonin who can take fresh graduates and have them thinking and moving like seasoned squads within months. Not just through drills, but through situations that matter."
He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "Genta's team has a dangerous combination of skills, and with Masahide shaping them, they will learn to use those skills in ways most enemies will not see coming. He pushes hard, but knows when to ease things, and it works. I have seen his former students. None of them turned out average."
I raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you respect him."
Takemaru's mouth twitched in something close to a smile. "I do. My son is in good hands."
Genta winced, though whether it was from the earlier blows or from knowing what Masahide's training would be like, I could not tell.
Takemaru shifted his gaze to me. "How about your team?"
Before I could answer, Genta stopped groaning and started laughing again. Takemaru's glare cut through the room, and Genta's laughter turned into a fake cough. "He is assigned to Sena and Kaen Uchiha," he said, "and not only that, their jonin sensei is Uchiha Shisui."
Takemaru's expression froze. "Shisui Uchiha," he repeated slowly, as if making sure he had heard correctly. "That is… unexpected."
His gaze sharpened, measuring the thought. "There are few in the village who can match him in skill. He is young, but his record speaks for itself. If he is your sensei, you will not be left untested."
There was a pause before he added, "Assignments like that are not handed out without reason. The Hokage must want something from this team, and not just mission results."
I felt the team's combination was deliberate, but I could not see the reasoning yet. Before I could ask him to explain, the knock of the compound guard came at the door.
"Come in," I called.
The door opened, and the ancient guard stepped inside. When he saw Takemaru, some of the tension in his face eased. "There is a shinobi called Uchiha Shisui waiting at the gate," he said, pointing at me. "He asked for you, kid."
Takemaru studied the guard's face. "Did he try anything?"
The guard shook his head. "No. He was polite and did not ask to enter the compound. He said he would wait at the gate until I checked if the kid was available."
Takemaru's eyes narrowed before he looked straight at me. "Do you want to meet him now, or should we ask him to come another day? There are a few things I want to tell you about him."
I shrugged. "I will meet with him. It should be interesting." A smirk pulled at my lips as I thought, I probably know more about him than anyone else in this compound.
I stood and walked toward the compound gate. Outside, a shinobi waited. He had a lean build and an expression that could pass for mild intrigue. His eyes moved in a slow, deliberate sweep, and his stance carried a quiet sharpness that spoke of unmatched lethality.