Chapter 13: Recognition and Consequences?
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Inuzuka compound as Kōzaru approached the familiar wooden gates, both puppies trotting beside him with the satisfied exhaustion of a job well done. The compound's distinctive architecture—low buildings designed to accommodate both human and canine inhabitants—felt especially welcoming after the intensity of the day's training, with Kōzaru's memory of the village and his current home kicking in.
He could already smell dinner cooking from several households, the rich aromas mixing with the ever-present scents of the various ninja hounds that called the compound home. Through his enhanced senses, he could pick out individual scent signatures: the powerful musk of the adult war dogs, the lighter scents of younger hounds, and underlying it all, the familiar smell of home.
Yuki and Riku perked up as they crossed the threshold, their small tails wagging as they recognized their territory. Despite their exhaustion, they maintained the alert posture that was already becoming second nature—heads up, ears forward, ready for anything.
The Inuzuka family home sat near the centre of the compound, a modest two-story structure with wide porches designed to accommodate the family's canine partners. As Kōzaru approached, he could hear movement from within—the distinctive sound of his mother preparing dinner, accompanied by the occasional grunt or growl from Kiba, her massive grey and black partner.
He paused at the door, suddenly uncertain how to begin explaining the day's events. Being recommended for immediate graduation wasn't exactly normal dinner conversation was it?
"Oi, runt!" came his mother's voice from inside before he could even announce his presence. "You're late! And you smell like smoke and chakra exhaustion. What kind of trouble did you get into today?"
Mika Inuzuka appeared in the doorway, her wild brown hair barely contained by a headband, wearing her usual practical clothing that could handle both domestic duties and sudden combat. Her sharp brown eyes immediately took in his dishevelled appearance, the faint scorch marks on his clothing, and the satisfied but tired expressions of both puppies.
But instead of the scolding he expected, her eyes narrowed with interest.
"That's not the smell of ordinary academy training," she said, her voice carrying the analytical tone of an experienced tracker. "You've been in real combat. Recently." Her gaze dropped to Yuki and Riku, who were sitting with perfect posture despite their exhaustion. "And these two..."
She crouched down to examine the puppies more closely, her expression shifting from curiosity to genuine surprise.
"They're moving well..." She observed with wonder. "Not pets, not even academy training animals—they're responding to you like proper ninja hounds. How is that possible? They're barely six months old!"
"Mum," Kōzaru began, then stopped. How much should he explain? How much would she believe?
"Inside," Mika commanded, standing and gesturing toward the house. "Whatever happened today, I want the full story. And it better be good, because Kiba's been restless all afternoon like something big was happening."
The interior of the house was warm and lived-in, with scratching posts and chew toys scattered alongside traditional furniture. Kiba, Mika's partner, lay sprawled across most of the living room floor—a massive hound whose shoulder came up to Kōzaru's chest. The war dog lifted his great head as they entered, nostrils flaring as he analysed the scents they carried.
His low rumble wasn't threatening, but it was definitely questioning.
"Even he can tell something's different," Mika muttered, settling into her favourite chair while Kōzaru took a seat on the floor where both puppies could curl up beside him. "Start talking, runt. And don't even think about leaving out details."
Kōzaru took a deep breath and began with the tactical scenario, describing the mission parameters and their team's approach. As he spoke, Mika's expression shifted through several phases—initial scepticism, growing interest, and finally, genuine amazement.
"You coordinated a three-way distraction while executing a flanking manoeuvre," she said slowly when he described their initial strategy. "With perfect timing and communication between all team members, including both hounds."
"The puppies knew exactly what to do," Kōzaru confirmed. "It was like they could read my intentions, or my thoughts for that matter."
"That's not normal, runt," Mika said seriously. "Most Inuzuka children don't achieve that level of coordination with their partners until they're genin, sometimes not until chunin. And you're telling me you did this on your first real tactical exercise?"
She listened with increasing attention as he described the combat itself leaving out the parts of Tatsuma's multiple shadow clones, Aotaka's ground-conducted lightning technique and his own combination of wind jutsu, thinking it might have been a bit much. When he reached the part about securing the objective and executing their tactical withdrawal, Mika was leaning forward in her chair.
"Forty-two minutes," she repeated when he finished. "With complete success and a new academy record."
"And Instructor Koji recommended us for immediate graduation," Kōzaru added quietly.
The silence that followed was profound. Even Kiba lifted his massive head to stare at Kōzaru with what might have been respect.
"Immediate graduation," Mika said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "At ten years old. During wartime." She was quiet for a long moment, processing the implications. "Runt... do you understand what this means?"
"That we're ready to be genin?" he ventured, not sure what she meant.
"That you're ready to be soldiers," she corrected, her tone growing serious. "Genin aren't just academy graduates, especially not during War. They're active duty ninja who get sent on real missions. Dangerous missions."
She stood and began pacing, her movements reflecting the restless energy that was characteristic of her clan.
"But if three ten-year-olds just broke the academy's tactical scenario record..." She paused, looking at him with new eyes. "If you really did coordinate that level of teamwork, demonstrated those techniques... then maybe you are ready."
Her expression shifted to something that might have been pride.
"An Inuzuka who can achieve perfect pack coordination with his partners on their first real mission," she said slowly. "That's... that's exceptional, runt. Your father would be proud."
The mention of his father—killed in action two years earlier during a border skirmish—brought a moment of solemn quiet. Kōzaru felt Yuki and Riku press closer to him, sensing the emotional shift through their empathic bonds. Even though he had never met the man, the memoires of him from this body were evident.
"The graduation ceremony will be tomorrow, won't it?" Mika asked, her practical nature reasserting itself.
"I think so. Instructor Koji said he was making the recommendation immediately."
"Then we need to prepare." She moved toward a cabinet that Kōzaru recognized as containing important family documents and heirlooms. "If you're graduating early, especially during wartime, there are traditions to observe."
She withdrew a small wooden box, handling it with obvious reverence.
"These belonged to your father," she said, opening the box to reveal a set of kunai with distinctive markings—the Inuzuka clan symbol etched into each blade, along with additional markings that spoke of proven combat experience.
"Every Inuzuka genin carries weapons blessed by their family," she explained, lifting one of the kunai to examine it in the light. "These have been in combat, have drawn blood in defence of the village. They'll serve you well."
She handed him the box, and Kōzaru felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. These weren't just weapons—they were a connection to his family's legacy, to his father's memory.
"Thank you," he said quietly, understanding the significance of the gift.
"Don't thank me yet, runt, there is still much to be done. From here out, your training will be increase. Its time for you to learn our clan techniques." Mika replied with a slight smile. "You'll have to prove you're worthy of carrying them. But based on today's performance..." She reached out to scratch behind both puppies' ears. "I think you might just manage it."
Meanwhile, across the village in the Hokage Tower, a very different conversation was taking place.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, sat behind his desk studying three files with the kind of focused attention he typically reserved for high level intelligence reports. The late afternoon light streaming through his office windows cast long shadows across the documents, but his expression remained thoughtfully serious.
Across from him, Instructor Koji stood at attention, having just finished his detailed briefing on the day's tactical scenario.
"Let me make sure I understand this correctly," the Hokage said, his voice carrying the measured tone of someone processing significant information. "Three ten-year-old academy students not only completed a scenario designed to challenge genin teams, but they did so with such tactical excellence that they broke the existing record by over five minutes."
"Yes, Lord Hokage," Koji confirmed. "Complete mission success with textbook tactical coordination. More importantly, each student demonstrated techniques and capabilities well beyond their supposed skill level."
The Hokage lifted the first file. "Kōzaru Inuzuka. Son of Jiro Inuzuka, killed in action during the Grass Country border incident two years ago. Mother is Mika Inuzuka, a jonin with an exemplary service record."
He opened the file, scanning the academic performance records and behavioural assessments.
"Previous academic performance was... adequate. Not exceptional, but solid fundamentals. Nothing in his record suggests the kind of tactical brilliance you're describing." He looked up at Koji. "What changed?"
"I wish I knew, sir," Koji admitted. "All three of them have shown remarkable improvement over the past few days. But today was different—it was like watching experienced genin, not academy students."
The Hokage moved to the second file. "Tatsuma Uzumaki. Orphaned and parents unknown.
The file was thinner, containing mostly academic records and the basic information gathered when the boy had been enrolled in the academy.
"Multiple shadow clones at age ten," the Hokage mused. "That's a technique that requires significant chakra reserves and precise control. Most genin can barely manage one stable clone." He made a note in the margin. "We'll need to investigate his Uzumaki heritage more thoroughly." Knowing that the Uzumaki were very few and far between these days.
The third file drew his particular attention. "Aotaka Senju. Bloodline connection to the First Hokage's family, though distant. Previous records show balanced but unremarkable performance."
"His lightning-style chakra was remarkable," Koji interjected. "Not just the technique itself, but the innovation—channelling it through and his weapon. That suggests both advanced chakra control and tactical creativity."
The Hokage leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered the implications.
"Three children, all with notable bloodline connections, all suddenly demonstrating abilities far beyond their previous performance," he said thoughtfully. "During a time when we desperately need capable ninja for the war effort."
He was quiet for several minutes, weighing factors that went far beyond simple graduation requirements.
"The timing is... fortuitous," he said finally. "Our casualties in the current conflict have been higher than anticipated. We need genin teams, but we need competent ones. Teams that won't become casualties themselves on their first mission."
"Sir?" Koji asked, sensing the direction of the Hokage's thoughts.
"If these three can perform at the level you're describing, then they represent exactly what we need—young ninja with the potential to make a real difference." The Hokage's expression grew more resolute. "But I won't send children to die based on one exceptional training exercise."
He stood and moved to the window, looking out over the village as the sun continued its descent toward the horizon.
"Schedule their graduation ceremony for tomorrow morning," he decided. "But I want them tested again—thoroughly. If they can demonstrate consistent performance at genin level, then we'll form them into a team and assign them an appropriate jonin instructor."
"Any particular jonin in mind, sir?" Koji asked.
The Hokage was quiet for a moment, mentally reviewing the available personnel.
"Someone experienced enough to handle exceptional students, but young enough to relate to their perspective," he said finally. "And given their obvious tactical abilities, someone who can push them to reach their full potential without getting them killed."
He turned back to his desk, making notes on each file.
"Also, I want background investigations on all three families. This level of sudden improvement..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "It bears closer examination. Not suspicion, but professional thoroughness."
"Understood, sir."
"One more thing," the Hokage added as Koji prepared to leave. "I want to observe their graduation test personally. If we're about to deploy ten-year-old genin during wartime, I need to see their capabilities first-hand."
After Koji departed, the Hokage remained at his window, watching the village settle into evening routines. Children played in the streets below—children the same age as the three students he was considering for active duty.
The war had already claimed too many of Konoha's young ninja. Every decision he made now could mean the difference between victory and disaster, between protecting the village and losing an entire generation of potential defenders.
But if these three were truly as capable as reported, if they could operate at genin level while still maintaining the adaptability and fresh thinking of academy students...
"Perhaps," he murmured to himself...
The files remained open on his desk as darkness settled over the village, three names representing either new hope or another tragic miscalculation in a war that had already cost too much.
Tomorrow would provide the answers he needed. Tomorrow, three ten-year-old children would either prove themselves ready to become soldiers, or they would remain students for a little while longer.
Either way, their lives were about to change forever.
"Forgive me lord second."
Back at the Inuzuka compound, dinner had been a quiet affair. Mika had prepared Kōzaru's favourite meal—grilled fish with vegetables and rice—but the conversation had been subdued, both of them processing the day's events and their implications.
Now, as evening settled over the compound, Kōzaru sat on the back porch with both puppies, watching the stars appear in the darkening sky. The familiar sounds of the compound at night—distant barks, the rustle of ninja hounds settling for sleep, the quiet conversations of family members—provided a comforting backdrop to his thoughts.
Tomorrow would bring the graduation ceremony, and with it, the next phase of their journey. From academy students to genin, from training exercises to real missions, from children to soldiers...
Through his bonds with Yuki and Riku, he could sense their contentment and trust. They didn't understand the implications of tomorrow's ceremony, but they understood that they would face whatever came next together, as a pack.
That knowledge, more than anything else, gave him the confidence to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The system interface flickered at the edge of his vision, reminding him that his growth was far from complete. Level 3 out of who knew how many, with vast potential still untapped, the thought of it all weighing heavily on his mind.
But for tonight, it was enough to sit with his partners and prepare for tomorrow's test. Whatever the academy had planned for them, they would be ready.
After all, they had proven themselves once already. Tomorrow, they would do it again.