The Land of Waves—forever etched in history as the place where Naruto Uzumaki, through his unwavering resolve to protect others from Gato and his mercenaries, was recognized for the first time in his life as a true shinobi. Tazuna and the people of his village saw him not as a burden, but as a hero.
Though Kirigakure had yet to officially declare war on Konoha, the Hidden Mist Village was clearly on the move. Tensions simmered beneath the surface, each side testing the other's limits.
Yet even as one of the Five Great Nations, Konoha couldn't simply march its forces into enemy territory without provocation. Instead, they deployed shinobi to the Land of Waves—subtly asserting their presence while avoiding the political consequences of outright invasion.
Kirigakure did not object. Like all great powers, it understood the toll of war. Better that the battlefield remain outside their borders. An unspoken agreement existed among the major villages: when war loomed, let the flames consume the smaller nations first.
As for the opinion of the small nations? Powerless, voiceless, ruled by the strongest fist—such was the way of the Shinobi World.
The Land of Waves was one of the most vulnerable. Small and poor, shrouded in constant mist, its people were weary and destitute. Worst of all, it had no shinobi village of its own. No military force. No defenders. Isolated and exposed, it was the perfect pawn in a game played by giants.
Renjiro's unit arrived on the third day after departing the village, having crossed the sea without incident. They reached the temporary Konoha encampment by dusk.
The camp sat atop a high bluff, overlooking a river valley—an ideal position for defense. Renjiro suspected the location had once been a local village.
The number and quality of the wooden houses far exceeded what one would expect from a hastily built field post. Konoha would never waste that many resources constructing such infrastructure from scratch in hostile territory.
As expected, there was no welcoming ceremony. No inspiring words from a commanding officer. Just a silent escort by a lone Chūnin, who gave them a brief tour of the grounds before showing them to their assigned lodgings.
Exhausted from the long journey, the recruits fell asleep almost immediately. Renjiro was no exception.
---
At dawn the next day, the newly graduated shinobi were summoned to the central training grounds.
Roughly a hundred of them stood assembled, their hushed chatter rising into the crisp morning air. A few armored shinobi stepped onto a raised platform, silencing the crowd.
One among them—a Hyuga clan member, easily identified by his pale eyes and traditional robes—delivered a brief, formal address before the team assignments began.
The recruits were sorted into three-person squads—two boys and one girl per group. Renjiro watched closely, already anticipating the outcome.
Sure enough, the same unspoken hierarchy from the Academy revealed itself here. The elite students from noble clans were assigned to optimized teams, crafted with precision and potential in mind.
Meanwhile, orphans and civilian-born genin like Renjiro were placed almost arbitrarily, as if the deciding factor had simply been who was standing nearby.
In the end, Renjiro found himself grouped with his longtime friend Maemon and a blonde girl named Meri Awashima. He doubted there was any logic behind it beyond their shared proximity.
It only confirmed what Renjiro had always known: Konoha's leadership prioritized the gifted and well-connected. The rest were pawns—expendable, interchangeable, and scattered wherever convenient.
Still, he didn't resent it. He understood his place.
No Clan.
No Kekkei Genkai.
No Special Jutsu
Just an ordinary will to survive—and a chip embedded in his head, a secret known only to him. In the eyes of the camp's leadership, he was nothing special.
Once the groups were finalized, several mid- and high-ranking shinobi descended from the platform to collect their new teams. Renjiro squinted toward the adults, anticipation stirring in his chest.
"Could this be it? Are we getting a jōnin instructor?" Thought Renjiro with anticipation.
Hope bloomed—and then withered in the next breath.
Their leader wasn't a jōnin at all. Instead, a young man in a standard-issue Chūnin vest with short black hair and an ordinary face stepped forward.
"I'm Zeri Munakata." He said plainly: "I'll be leading your team."
Direct, no flourish, no warm welcome. That was Renjiro's first impression of their captain.
Without further ceremony, Zeri led them out of camp and into the forest. They followed him in silence until they reached a quiet clearing beneath the trees.
"Before we start." Zeri said, turning to face them: "we should introduce ourselves."
He clapped once—light but commanding.
Meri stepped forward confidently. Her voice was clear and crisp: "I'm Meri Awashima. I like red bean sweets and hate wastefulness."
As she spoke that last word, she threw a sharp glance at the boys' untidy appearances. Both Renjiro and Maemon instinctively tugged at their collars, trying to straighten up.
Meri gave a satisfied nod before continuing: "My dream is to become a strong woman like Lady Tsunade. My current goal is to get along with my teammates."
Renjiro's gaze drifted to her chest, almost involuntarily: "Well… from this angle, she's off to a decent start on the Tsunade dream."
Zeri clapped his hands once in approval: "Nice. Maemon, you're up next."
Maemon adjusted his glasses and spoke in a calm, measured voice: "I'm Maemon. My dream is to become a strategist. I specialize in control-type jutsu and dislike unpredictable scenarios."
Another round of polite applause followed. Then it was Renjiro's turn.
"I'm Renjiro Takane." Renjiro said softly: "Just call me Renjiro. My goal? Staying alive. I like writing. I don't really hate anything… not yet, anyway."
"A laid-back one, huh?" Zeri chuckled: "Alright, my turn."
He straightened and gave them a grin: "I'm Zeri Munakata. Chūnin. I like grilled meat, hate war, and my dream is to marry a beautiful woman and have lots of kids! Hahaha!"
He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Meri flushed slightly and turned her gaze away.
"Anyway, back to business." Zeri continued, his tone shifted slightly. The easy smile faded, replaced by something more grounded: "From this moment on, Team Zeri is officially formed. I'm your squad leader. You're my squadmates. Let's build trust and grow stronger—together."
Zeri extended a hand. The three genin exchanged glances, then stepped forward and placed their palms over his. Four hands, united in one purpose.
Zeri nodded, smilingly: "Good. Because your first mission starts today."
All three blinked, surprised—but not panicked. They had expected this, at least in theory.
Zeri noted their composure with quiet satisfaction. At least they're not hopeless.
"But don't worry." Zeri added: "The command center knows you're fresh out of the Academy. Your first few missions will be easy—meant to help you adjust, build experience, and grow stronger."
"Phew!"
The trio exhaled in relief, almost in sync.
Of course, Zeri knew better. "Easy" was always a relative term. In the Shinobi World, even the simplest task could turn deadly in a heartbeat.
Maemon adjusted his glasses again: "Captain Zeri, can you tell us what our first mission is?"
Zeri sighed, then gave a short nod: "Our assignment is… foraging."
"Foraging?" The three repeated, visibly confused.
Zeri folded his arms and said: "The Land of Waves is too poor to import supplies in bulk, and shipping food from the village across the misty river is unreliable at best. So, we adapt. Our task is to gather food—wild vegetables, edible fungi, small animals. Anything usable."
Realization dawned, and the trio nodded in understanding.
Zeri smiled, then pointed toward the forest beyond: "Excellent. Then, as your team leader, I officially declare—Team Zeri's first mission begins now. Move out!"
"Yes, Captain!"
Their voices rang out—young, uncertain, but full of spirit.