The mirror used to reflect a girl who wore lip gloss she didn't need, curled her bangs three times before leaving, and practiced smiling in the hopes he would notice.
Now… the reflection looked different.
Still Sakura. Still pink hair. Still green eyes.
But her gaze wasn't searching for perfection in her appearance anymore.
She adjusted her dark training shirt—simple, snug, and sturdy. Her hitai-ate rested proudly on her forehead, tied firm and centered. She studied the faint scar forming just above her browline. Not big. Not ugly. But real.
Her room had changed too.
Where there were once posters of trendy idols and shelves of cosmetics and lotions, now there were stacks of chakra theory texts, a pinned anatomy chart near her desk, and scrolls sealed tight with Daigo-sensei's personal wax emblem. The air smelled faintly of ink, parchment, and focused resolve.
Medical theory primer: Vol. I
Genjutsu layering principles – handwritten notes by Daigo Guretsu
Advanced chakra shaping: mental control vs. instinctive flow
Each one was dense. Each one was a mountain.
Each one was hers to climb.
Two days had passed since they returned from Wave. The mission was over… but it lingered. Not just in her dreams, where Haku's voice echoed and mercenaries swarmed the bridge. Not just in her muscles, still sore from fighting and sprinting and surviving.
But in her mind.
They'd been paid already—an A-rank payout. That kind of money was enough to make some chuunin think they'd made it. Enough to buy months of food, tools, even a full set of custom gear.
Sakura couldn't feel pride in it.
They were alive because of Daigo-sensei. Because of his strength, his planning, his terrifying grin when things went to hell. Not because they were ready. Not yet.
She'd helped, yes. She had protected Tazuna. She had stood her ground against the mercenary army on the bridge. She'd even laid traps around Tazuna's house and kept her senses sharp.
But she hadn't stood on that bridge.
She hadn't been in the storm's eye.
Naruto and Sasuke had fought like a hurricane, driven by pressure and desperation while clashing with a masked ice shinobi.
As for her?
She'd guarded the sidelines.
That wasn't enough anymore.
Daigo-sensei had said it himself:
"You've got the mind of a surgeon and the focus of a sniper. It's about damn time you learned to wield both. You're not here to be pretty."
He saw something in her. Something sharp. She wouldn't let that fade.
Sakura glanced at the scroll lying half-unfurled by her bedside: Genjutsu as Tactical Fog: Concealment through Perception Manipulation.
She'd been rereading it all night.
She would memorize it. Understand it. Master it.
If Naruto was the vanguard and Sasuke the spear, then she would be the shield and the fog.
She would be the one who held them together.
"Sakura!" a voice called from downstairs. Her mother, Mebuki. "Breakfast's ready!"
Sakura blinked, pulled from her thoughts.
"Coming!" she called back, her voice firmer than usual.
Today was their day off. Daigo-sensei insisted they take it easy, that they "won't train like maniacs for once" and "actually sleep before they collapse again."
She smiled at the memory of his lazy drawl, that half-sarcastic chuckle of his.
Honestly, she didn't mind a day off. Konoha never felt quite as warm as it did after you returned alive.
Even if someone asked her to go walk a dog or chase a runaway cat right now, she'd say yes in a heartbeat.
She gave her reflection one last glance—not to adjust anything. Not to worry. Just to acknowledge the shift.
This was Sakura Haruno.
Still learning. Still growing. But no longer just a girl chasing a boy.
She was a kunoichi now. And she had work to do.
The second member of team 7 was going through a similar thought process.
The apartment was small. Quiet. The neighbors mostly ignored him, and he preferred it that way. He didn't bring guests, and no one ever asked.
He liked it like that.
He didn't live in the Uchiha compound. Not anymore. Not after that night.
The early light filtered through the blinds, casting sharp shadows against the plain wooden floor. A folded towel hung by the bathroom door. His sandals rested by the frame.
His gear was packed neatly in a corner. Unused, for once.
Sasuke sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands. They were still. He wanted to move them. To throw a kunai. To feel the tension in his muscles tighten and release with every movement.
But he didn't.
Daigo-sensei said to rest. Just for today.
So he would.
Not because he was tired. Not because he couldn't push himself.
But because he respected the man.
He'd never say it out loud. He barely wanted to admit it to himself.
Daigo Guretsu was loud. Brash. Grinning like an idiot half the time. Always teasing, always laughing like nothing could touch him.
But Sasuke looked up to him.
After their first few weeks of training, he'd gone digging. Read old mission logs. Heard whispers from a few ANBU who used to run with Daigo in the field. Found an old article in the shinobi registry tucked behind the archives: "The Silver Boar of Konoha" it read.
The things this man survived. The things he did alone.
No wonder even Father spoke of him with respect—Fugaku Uchiha, who called almost no one by name, referred to him as Guretsu.
Back then, Sasuke didn't understand why. He was too busy trying to chase after Itachi's shadow.
But now? After Wave?
He understood.
Sasuke stood, slipping on his sandals in practiced silence. Just because he wasn't going to train didn't mean he would stay in bed all day.
Outside, the village was warm, the wind light. Civilians strolled with baskets and chatter. Children played in the alleys. The scent of baked rice and iron drifted through the air.
It was… calm. A rare thing in a shinobi's world.
Sasuke walked. Hands in his pockets. Quiet.
And he thought.
About Team 7. About them.
Naruto, the loudmouth idiot. Always talking. Always rushing. Always fighting with heart first, plan second. And Sakura, the girl who used to scream his name so much it echoed through his nightmares.
He should have found them annoying still. That was the expectation.
But…
He didn't.
Somewhere between Ground Zero and the blood on the bridge, something had shifted.
They trained together. Bled together. Survived together.
He talked to them. Not out of obligation. Not to shut them up. But because it felt… normal now.
It wasn't like before in the academy. It wasn't forced. It just was.
Sasuke blinked, his train of thought interrupted as someone gasped. He turned and realized his Sharingan had activated. Again.
He closed his eyes. Took a breath. The tomoe in his irises receded. He had no idea how long they've been activated. Although he had an idea.
The thought of him had done it. Itachi.
Just thinking the name was enough to set his blood moving like fire under skin.
But strangely… the fury didn't last.
It was Daigo who made him awaken his Sharingan properly.
Sparring with the man wasn't training, it was war. Daigo didn't pull his punches. He pressured, provoked, and punished. Sasuke's eyes had first surfaced under that strain. The weight of the man's killing intent forced his chakra to surge and evolve.
He remembered panting, bleeding, seeing clearer than ever—when his eyes finally bled into crimson. But what annoyed him most was what came after: Daigo forced him to turn them off.
Sasuke gritted his teeth at first—but eventually, he couldn't deny it. That advice made him stronger.
Learning to fight without the Sharingan sharpened his instincts, his footwork, his timing. So when he did use them? He was lethal.
And after Wave, they had evolved again.
One tomoe had matured—now he bore two in each eye. He felt it during the final clash. The clarity. The motion. The resolve.
He sighed. Using them was easy, almost too easy. So easy that they activate by themselves sometimes. Just bad memories involving trauma. Ain't that the story of his life.
"Sorry," he muttered to the startled civilian. They nodded quickly and rushed past.
It was strange.
The thought of his brother used to ruin his whole day. One memory. One flicker of the massacre.
Now? The fire was still there—but it didn't burn everything anymore.
Maybe it was Sensei's voice in his head. That unrelenting grin even in the face of death. Maybe it was Naruto throwing himself into danger with no hesitation. Maybe it was Sakura's eyes, sharp and focused as she guarded their flank like a proper shinobi.
Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it was them.
Sasuke didn't know what to make of it yet but he didn't hate it.
Eventually, his steps took him toward a familiar spot—a small restaurant near the river district. Quiet. Clean. The owners didn't ask questions, and the tomato salad was the best in the village.
He stepped inside. A bell rang softly. The hostess greeted him with a nod.
Sasuke said nothing.
He slid into his usual booth, ordered the usual, and stared out the window at the passing clouds. He didn't need to train today.
But he would be ready tomorrow.
Meanwhile, with Naruto?
Aaaaah yeah. Best. Day. Ever!
Naruto Uzumaki strutted down the streets of Konoha with the kind of swagger that could only come from one thing: a full wallet. Not a chuunin's wallet. Not even a regular jounin's. No, no.
An A-rank mission wallet. Gamma-chan was about to blow up!
He whistled a little tune to himself, tossing the coin pouch in the air and catching it like a boss. He could already smell the rich broth and noodles waiting for him.
Ichiraku's was calling his name—and today he wasn't gonna order just one bowl. Oh no.
Today he was going full ten-course feast. With egg. With extra pork. And, yeah… with a few vegetables too.
"Tch. Stupid Daigo-sensei," he muttered with a slight pout, mimicking their teacher's deep voice, 'You wanna grow, you gotta eat greens, Naruto. You'll stay a shrimp forever if you just wolf down carbs.'
"Pssh. I'm not a shrimp," Naruto huffed to himself, looking at his arms with a squint. "These are totally definition lines. That's muscle, right there!"
And truthfully, it was. His forearms were firmer now. His punches hit heavier.
Daigo-sensei didn't let him slack even once, and the drills with Sasuke and Sakura were real battle scenarios. He wasn't just swinging like a maniac anymore—he had footwork, dodges, counters.
His bones even felt longer lately.
"Just wait," he grinned, striking a dramatic pose in front of a shop window reflection. "Tallest shinobi in the village, believe it!"
Then came the ambush.
A rock.
Just sitting in the middle of the street. Except it wasn't shaped like a rock. It was weirdly square. And lumpy. And… wait, was that a finger?
"...The hell?"
With a sigh and a sweatdrop, Naruto walked up and gave the 'rock' a solid kick.
POOF!
"GAH! Ow! That was my spine, you brute!!" cried Konohamaru, now sprawled out on the street while Moegi and Udon rushed in like backup dancers who missed their cue.
"HAH! As expected from my rival!" Konohamaru shouted, trying to stand tall again despite the forming lump on his back. "Only you could have seen through my elite camouflage jutsu!"
Moegi clapped enthusiastically while Udon sniffled, "It was a perfect rectangle! How did he know!?"
Naruto blinked. "Because rocks aren't shaped like building blocks, ya nutcases."
Still… he grinned.
These brats.
Moegi and Udon, good kids. He liked them well enough.
The girl's kinda bossy like a mini Sakura but in a good way, she wasn't the punchy type, at least not yet. She talks big and acts like she's the leader when everyone knows it's Konohamaru—well, Konohamaru thinks he's the boss, but Moegi? She's the real general of that little army. Udon is not bad.
'Still got that drip goin', huh…? Seriously, is that a jutsu or what?'
That's the thought Naruto always ends up going back to when seeing the kid.
Nevermind that though, He does find Udon funny. He's weird, and kinda forgettable sometimes. But Naruto doesn't dislike him. In fact, he thinks Udon's the kind of guy who'll probably surprise everyone one day—quiet, calculating, and weirdly observant.
Hell he saw the kid once use a smoke bomb and vanish into a water barrel for 20 minutes just to win a game of hide and seek. The brat refused to come out.
As for Konohamaru, well Naruto sees him as a reflection of himself at a younger age—loud, stubborn, full of dreams, and with absolutely zero idea what being Hokage really means. He finds that both frustrating and endearing.
Basically the kid was loudmouthed, dramatic and full of big dreams. And Naruto had to admit… he respected the little guy.
He was the first person in the village to ever call him 'rival.' Not monster. Not loser. Rival. That meant something.
Even if the kid tried to declare war on him on Day One of being a genin.
"I was gonna hit up Ichiraku's, y'know," Naruto said, rubbing the back of his head. "Celebrate the paycheck and all."
"RAAAAAMEN?!" all three yelled in unison, stars exploding in their eyes.
Oh boy.
And just like that, his peaceful lunch transformed into a full-blown adventure—or as Naruto called it, Tomfoolery no Jutsu. Within minutes they were sprinting through alleyways, hopping over crates, and dodging civilians.
"Ninja Hide and Seek!" Konohamaru declared, slapping a scroll against a wall and vanishing with a puff of smoke.
"I'm gonna find you and dunk you in the river when I do!" Naruto shouted, leaping up onto a roof.
Their game took them through the markets, past the academy, across the river walk, and even down a few back alleys that Naruto may have been warned not to visit again (long story, don't ask).
They were squirrels on crack—laughing, yelling, and occasionally hurling water balloons at each other disguised as smoke bombs.
And today? No one stopped them. No scolding. No teachers dragging them back.
Because today was a rest day. Well for Naruto sure. About the brats? Well he can't judge, he bounced from academy days once in multiple whiles.
Naruto knew that if Daigo-sensei caught wind of this, he'd probably just grin that big grin of his and say something like, "You're alive. You've earned the right to live like it once in a while."
That was Daigo-sensei. Brutal when it counted. But never in the wrong way.
He wondered for a moment what the big guy was up to today. Probably sleeping upside down from a tree or something insane like that.
Then a smoke bomb popped behind him, and Konohamaru launched himself like a flying squirrel from a second-story window, tackling Naruto into a pile of cabbage baskets.
"GOTCHA, RIVAL!" the brat screamed in victory.
"AAARGH MY RAMEN MONEY!!" Naruto howled, holding up his now very crushed toad wallet.
"Worth it!" Konohamaru beamed.
Naruto burst out laughing, holding the kid in a headlock while Moegi and Udon danced around them like they'd won the Genin Exams.
Today was a good day. Not because of pay. Not because of power. But because he was finally living a life where he could laugh—and not be alone.
Meanwhile, with Daigo
The breeze was warm, soft through the trees, and smelled faintly of wildflowers and river stone.
Their spot hadn't changed.
Nestled in the forest just outside the village walls, far enough to feel like a different world but close enough for ANBU not to lose their minds, it was a hidden clearing—a place of sunlight and water and earth. A small waterfall spilled into a shallow stream, clear enough to see the riverbed stones.
Wild mushrooms grew near the tree trunks, birds chirped overhead, and the only sound louder than the stream was the occasional contented sigh from the man squatting barefoot by the water, fishing line in hand.
Daigo Guretsu grinned under the sunlight.
The Silver Boar of Konoha—grinning like an idiot as the line tugged and a fat river fish flailed out of the water and into his hand.
"Gotcha," he said simply, tossing the fish into the basket beside him.
Behind him, Kurenai Yuhi groaned—not out of annoyance, but in that half-grumbling, half-flustered way that made Daigo's smirk grow even wider.
"Brute," she muttered, limping over to the picnic blanket with a satchel full of wild greens and mushrooms.
"Ay," Daigo said, not even bothering to hide his amusement, "I told you to tap out. Several times."
"You wouldn't shut up," Kurenai said, grumbling as she sat down carefully, massaging one of her inner thighs. "You kept talking about how much time we lost last week. As if you were going to make up for it in one night."
"I did make up for it," he said, stretching his arms and cracking his shoulders. "You're just sore because I'm thorough."
She gave him a glare that was almost convincing.
"Your thoroughness broke my back."
Daigo laughed—the full, booming kind that echoed off the trees. He reeled in another fish without looking.
Kurenai rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
Eventually, the food was cooked—fish seared over open flame, mushrooms and herbs sautéed with just enough field seasoning—and the two lay side by side on the blanket in the shade, their legs tangled together lazily.
"You know," she said after a while, voice soft, "you still haven't told me how the mission went."
"Because I spent all of yesterday writing a damn report about it," Daigo groaned. "I sent Sarutobi-sama a courier boar mid-mission. Had the scroll. Had the maps. Everything. And what do they make me do the moment I set foot in the village? Write a damn essay. Like I'm back in the Academy."
Kurenai snorted. "It's protocol. You've been doing this since you were ten. Now it annoys you?"
"It annoyed me then," he shot back. "But at least back then I was a genin who could go hide behind my Jounin captain. Now I am the damn captain."
"You poor thing," she said, patting his chest mockingly.
He grunted. "Anyway. The kids."
At that, her attention sharpened. She leaned into his side, elbow on his stomach as he launched into the story.
Zabuza. Raiga. The kid with the ice mirrors. The kid with the illusions. Gato's mercenaries. Every chaotic moment from the bridge battle, retold through Daigo's lens—not dramatized, not overblown, just told like it was. Even when he spoke of his own contributions, it was mostly side notes. The focus stayed on the genin.
And Kurenai listened. And the more she listened, the more her heart twisted in unexpected ways.
"They did good," he said, staring at the sky. "Better than I expected. Naruto's getting strategic. Sakura kept Tazuna alive and didn't crack once. And Sasuke…"
His grin widened.
"Sasuke's a bastard. But he learns fast. I didn't have to say it twice."
She said nothing for a long while. Because something inside her had begun to ache.
Team 7 was… growing. Rapidly. Dangerously fast.
And she couldn't help but imagine herself or her team in their place. Hinata, Kiba, Shino… she knew in her heart they wouldn't have survived that mission. Not like this.
Not like them.
Daigo seemed to notice the shift in her energy. He didn't say anything right away. Just stared at her with that knowing look—the kind she hated.
The kind that always seemed to see through her.
"You're thinking about your team," he said, not a question.
Kurenai exhaled.
"...I'm wondering if I'm failing them."
"Mm."
That was all he said.
But it wasn't enough.
"I trained Yakumo Kurama once, remember?" she said quietly. "She had the Kurama bloodline. Genjutsu so powerful it became real. And I… I was going to have her chakra sealed. I couldn't help her. I didn't know how."
Daigo's expression didn't change.
"She's a Chunin now," he said.
"Because of you," she snapped, and then immediately softened. "You helped her understand the nature of Yin chakra. You worked with her every night for weeks. You—"
"We worked with her," he corrected. "She was your student."
"No," Kurenai whispered, the self-doubt sharp. "She hates me. She only respects you."
Daigo reached out, hand brushing through her hair.
"I remember the look you gave me when I said I could help her," he said. "Like you'd seen a ghost. You were afraid, Kurenai. Not of Yakumo but of losing her. That's what makes you a good teacher."
"Not good enough," she murmured.
He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.
"I didn't take Team 7 because I'm a better teacher," he said. "I took them because I'm a freak with a massive training fetish and too much chakra. Also I happened to like one of those kids already. You? You're a nurturer. You see people. I beat them into shape. You shape them to their best selves."
Kurenai didn't reply for a long moment.
And then she said, "I can't do what you do."
He smiled.
"And I can't do what you do. That's why we're not rivals. That's why I need you."
And just like that, the ache dulled.
Her confidence didn't return completely—but Daigo had always had a way of making you feel like you could get back up again. Even if you didn't yet believe it yourself.
They fell into silence, listening to the stream.
She curled up against him. He draped his arm over her.
And for now—for this rare, golden hour—Konoha could spin on without them.
The Drenched Hollow.
Nestled on the southern fringe of Konoha, past the regular training grounds and just shy of the forest that borders the Naka River tributary, lies a secluded wetland area known by the older shinobi as The Drenched Hollow.
It's rarely used officially—partly due to its uneven terrain, dense patches of reeds, shallow muddy basins, and unpredictable water levels—but for teams that rely on sensory skills, tracking, and environmental mobility, it's a goldmine.
If Kurenai Yuhi thought her students would take a rest day while she was off in the woods being violently romanced by her brute of a man, she clearly hadn't briefed her genin on what rest actually meant.
Because Team 8 was not resting.
Not even close.
"ARE YOU INSANE, KIBA!?"
"NO! I'M MOTIVATED!"
"You are definitely insane," Shino muttered, adjusting his collar as the scent of river sludge and swamp mold wafted through the area.
The scene? A large, muddy clearing near the southern riverbank just outside Konoha, now converted—thanks to Kiba's genius—into a makeshift tracking gauntlet.
Kiba, shirt off and body half-covered in drying mud, was in the process of teaching Akamaru to track moving chakra dummies rigged with scent markers and flash tags. Which, to his credit, would've been decent training… if he hadn't also decided to turn the dummy run into a competitive race between his ninken and Hinata.
Who, to everyone's horror, agreed.
"I-It's okay, Shino-kun!" Hinata said, panting slightly, her Byakugan activated as she rolled out of the way of a hidden tripwire tag. "K-Kiba-kun is just—um—creative!"
"You mean suicidal," Shino said flatly, watching as Akamaru nearly tackled Kiba in his excitement. "This is the third flash tag trap he's triggered today."
"I'm fine!" Kiba shouted from a nearby bush. "Just testing my reaction time!"
"You screamed."
"Battle cry!"
"You begged for Akamaru to save you."
"That's bonding!"
Despite himself, Shino pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.
This was not how it was supposed to go.
Yesterday, their sensei had sent word that she'd be unavailable for two days. No reason given. No substitute appointed. And while Shino had suggested they use the time to review poison dispersal techniques and chakra conservation through meditation, Kiba had other ideas.
Specifically: "Nature-style training day!"
Read: "roll around in mud like feral children, yell at each other, nearly blow up the woods, and call it character building."
Hinata, ever the kind soul, went along with it. Too polite—or maybe too shy—to shut it down.
And now, hours later, Team 8 had gone full feral.
Kiba was hurling meat-scented kunai at moving targets. Akamaru was chasing squirrels and ignoring the dummies. Hinata was practicing rotation inside a chalk ring like it was dodgeball. And Shino…
Well, Shino was considering writing an anonymous letter to the Hokage recommending mandatory Jonin accountability forms.
Still.
Something strange did happen.
Despite the chaos. Despite the madness. Despite the very real chance that Kiba might burn off his eyebrows again before sunset…
Shino noticed something.
They were getting better.
Kiba's senses were sharper than they used to be. He could distinguish trap scent tags from real ones. His movements were wild but faster. Hinata's Rotation was more fluid now, more precise. She no longer second-guessed her footwork. Even in chaos, her Byakugan flicked from target to target like she knew what she was doing.
And him?
His insects were thriving.
He no longer needed to coax them into new formation drills. They followed subtle, unconscious commands now. Hive-memory refinement. It was coming naturally.
Still.
They weren't Team 7.
Shino didn't like comparisons. But it was hard not to notice the difference.
Sasuke's reputation was growing. Sakura, once overlooked, now had edge and purpose. Naruto—chaotic, loud Naruto—was being respected.
They were moving fast.
Team 8? They were… stable. But static.
Maybe that's why Kiba was pushing them so hard. Maybe Hinata's willingness to train nonstop wasn't just politeness. Maybe Shino's increased meditation time wasn't just for chakra control.
Maybe they felt it too.
That quiet voice saying: if we don't catch up, we'll be left behind.
But that wasn't something you said aloud.
So when Kiba ran past him, laughing like an idiot, caked in mud, Shino didn't complain.
And when Hinata offered him a towel with a faint smile, cheeks flushed and proud of her tracking run, he nodded quietly.
Even if their sensei was gone.
Even if the rest of the village moved on.
Team 8 would move too.
In the very heart of the village, The council room was too quiet.
For a room filled with clan heads, advisors, and enough political pressure to crush a mountain, Kakashi always found the silence louder than any battlefield.
The Hokage sat at the head of the table, unflinching as he puffed on his pipe. Beside him, Homura and Koharu looked like two buzzards perched on a dying tree, flipping through the mission report with furrowed brows.
On the other side of the room, Hiashi Hyuga and Shikaku Nara whispered between themselves, no doubt already calculating the implications. Danzo didn't say a word. Not at first.
Kakashi kept to the wall behind them, uninvited but permitted—The Babysitter, as Daigo liked to call him. Technically he was also an official Jounin of Team 7, just… not the one training them.
Not that he minded, at first.
He'd stayed out of sight when the team was formed. Too many ghosts hovered around that squad: Minato-sensei's son… Obito's legacy… Rin's memory.
He couldn't face them. Not yet. So he let Daigo take the reins. That man was better suited for Genin anyway—tough, relentless, loud. Nothing like him. Nothing like… Obito.
But that was months ago. And now?
Now, Kakashi was reading a mission report stamped with A-rank classification. A C-rank escort turned into a battle against two former members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.
Kakashi scanned the summaries—Zabuza. Raiga. The Yuki bloodline. Some child with unknown Genjutsu capabilities. A mercenary army. A tyrant. A civilian client unharmed. Zero fatalities.
And this—"Genin engaged the Yuki-user directly. Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha showed coordinated battlefield synergy. Haruno Sakura performed support, trap-layer, and client protection roles."
He let out a slow breath.
'They lived,' he thought.
'They fought. And they won.'
The first to break the silence was Danzo. His fingers, wrapped in bandages, tapped once on the table as he looked up with that singular eye of his.
"The kunoichi, Haruno. Her nerves did not break even under intense killing intent from Momochi and Kurotsuki. Remarkable, for someone without a combat bloodline or clan backing."
That alone felt surreal to hear.
Hiashi grunted softly, likely displeased at Danzo's subtle slight at his daughter. Shikaku, on the other hand, leaned forward and folded his hands.
"More than remarkable. Those three Genin were green as grass three months ago. Now they've survived a scenario that most Chuunin wouldn't walk away from. Daigo might be insane, but his results are… statistically impressive."
Homura spoke up at last, adjusting his robes with a sigh.
"Impressive, yes, but dangerous. Children should not be thrown into the jaws of A-rank combat without preparation. What if Guretsu had fallen? What if he was the one targeted first?"
"He was targeted first, but we all know how our silver boar is." Sarutobi interrupted, calm but firm. "He planned. He led. He adapted. Just like I knew he would."
Kakashi almost smirked behind his mask. He could still hear Daigo's voice in his head:
"Your job is to babysit, scarecrow. I'll do the beating and building. You just make sure they don't break."
Daigo didn't treat them like porcelain dolls. He treated them like iron ore, waiting to be forged. Kakashi didn't want to admit it… but it was working.
He'd watched the training, quietly, always from a distance. Daigo's method? Simple: Beat them. Heal them. Beat them again. And somewhere along the way, they stopped falling apart.
They fought through pain. Learned to conserve chakra. They moved like a team.
Kakashi's eye drifted down the report again. His thoughts wandered to the true reason he was worried.
That boy unlocked his Sharingan.
Sasuke. The kid had awakened his eyes almost two months ago, in the middle of one of Daigo's brutal sparring sessions. It wasn't a life-or-death moment. It wasn't grief or desperation.
It was just… pressure. Accumulated pressure. Kakashi had felt it—that moment when Sasuke's chakra snapped to attention, and then, there it was.
One tomoe in each eye, after more training? An additional tomoe to one eye. After the Wave mission? The growth was continuing. His second eye had another tomoe now. Balance. Progress.
But Daigo wouldn't let him use it.
"Those eyes are a damn tool, boy, not a lifeline. Turn them off."
And the worst part? It was working. Sasuke was getting better without relying on the Sharingan. Which meant when he did use it, it was terrifying.
Kakashi had seen him go toe-to-toe with Naruto's clone formations. He wasn't just keeping up—he was dismantling them.
The boy was learning to fight without the crutch. That kind of discipline didn't come from lectures. It came from the fire.
Kakashi sighed quietly, finally stepping forward. The eyes of the room turned to him.
"You all see the results," he said, tone unreadable. "But I've watched the process. It's not pretty. But it's real. And it's working. If we're raising the next generation to face what's coming—then we may want more Daigos, although I can't say that most kids would be like team 7."
Koharu looked appalled. Danzo simply raised a brow.
But the Hokage smiled, puffing once more from his pipe.
"Then perhaps it's time for you to join the fire too, Kakashi."
He said nothing… but nodded once. He wouldn't let Daigo shape them alone. He couldn't.
Minato-sensei's son.
Obito's legacy.
And a girl who stared fear in the face and stood her ground…Just like Rin.
They were his team, sort of. It was time to act like it.
Konoha bustled under the afternoon sun.
The hum of markets, the clatter of sandals on stone, and the occasional voice yelling about radish prices filled the warm air — all very normal, all very peaceful.
At least, until the sounds of childish shouting and toppling crates disrupted the harmony like a poorly timed drumbeat.
"GET BACK HERE, KONOHAMARU-SAMA!"
A merchant screamed as a stand of roasted dango was demolished by a blur of motion. An elderly lady barely escaped a flying basket of green onions. And in the center of it all — arms flailing, grinning like a bandit — was Konohamaru Sarutobi.
"MOVE IT, MOVE IT, HE'S GAINING ON US!"
Behind him, Udon tripped over his own sandals trying to keep up, while Moegi hurled an empty juice box back at their pursuer.
And behind them — like death incarnate with neatly combed hair and a perpetually offended face adorned with glasses — was Ebisu, Special Jonin, brandishing a long wooden pointer like a sword.
"KONOHAMARU! STOP SKIPPING YOUR LESSONS! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS BEHAVIOR!"
Naruto squatted on a rooftop ledge nearby, grinning as he watched the chaos unfold below.
"Man, they're getting better," he muttered to himself with a bit of pride. "That alley roll? That was clean."
Running into Konohamaru that morning had changed his whole trajectory, honestly watching the little guy and his friends cause trouble for uptight Ebisu was better than a movie.
"Boss!" Konohamaru shouted from the street as he sprinted past, eyes glinting. "Don't let 'im catch us!"
Naruto gave a thumbs-up. "Make me proud, kid!"
Then he laughed. Ebisu's gonna blow a fuse.
A few blocks away, Sakura Haruno sighed and adjusted the grocery bag on her hip, mumbling to herself about being dragged into errands.
"Go outside," they said. "Get some air," they said. And then they hand me a list longer than Daigo-sensei's training plan."
Her steps slowed when she heard shouting up ahead.
A moment later, she caught sight of orange darting through the street like a missile. Naruto.
Figures.
And just as she was about to ignore it and keep walking, she heard another voice — familiar and flat as ever.
"…Figures."
Sasuke stood near a closed soba shop, arms crossed, staring at the chaos below with mild irritation. She blinked.
"...Sasuke-kun? What are you doing here?"
"Eating," he replied simply, holding a riceball in his palm.
"And then stalking Naruto from rooftops?"
He gave her a look. "I heard yelling. Who else would it be?"
Before either could add more, a voice rang out again from the street.
"SEE YA, BOSS!" Konohamaru shouted as he leapt over a fence, followed by Udon and Moegi.
Ebisu barreled after them, panting and muttering curses under his breath as he vanished around a corner.
A beat passed. Then silence.
Naruto dropped down beside them, all smiles. "You see that flip? Konohamaru stuck it like a pro."
Sakura blinked. "You taught him to flip?"
"Gotta pass on the greatness somehow."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "You're corrupting the Hokage's grandson."
"And he's better for it!"
Sakura rolled her eyes and shifted the bag in her arms. "We really can't have a normal day, can we?"
"Wow," came a voice behind them. "Did we walk into a circus or something?"
They turned.
Team 10 had arrived — Shikamaru, already sighing like he wanted to evaporate; Choji, munching quietly; and Ino, beaming brightly and already halfway through her dramatic greeting.
"Well well, if it isn't my cute little rival," Ino sang, striking a hand-on-hip pose.
Sakura's smile twitched. "Don't start."
"I wasn't talking to you, forehead. Sasuke-kun~! How are you feeling? Heard you had a rough mission."
Sasuke didn't respond. He just blinked slowly and looked away, uninterested.
Ino looked offended. "Still playing hard to get…"
"Every day," Shikamaru muttered. "What a drag."
Their Jounin-sensei followed close behind, cigarette already lit between his fingers. Asuma Sarutobi gave a small nod to the trio of genin before him.
"Well, well. All of Team 7 in one place. Huh. You guys look… tougher."
Naruto blinked. "Eh?"
"You walk like you've been through a grinder," Asuma added, tone casual but sharp-eyed.
Sakura tilted her head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," he said with a smile that was definitely not innocent.
Choji offered a chip to Naruto. "Want one?"
Naruto took it without hesitation. "You're the best, Choji."
Shikamaru studied them more closely now. "What kind of mission were you guys on, anyway? You disappeared for days."
Sakura opened her mouth — and then snapped it shut. She looked to Naruto.
Naruto grinned.
Sasuke crossed his arms.
Asuma chuckled and waved a hand lazily. "Don't worry about it, Shikamaru. Classified stuff. Just know your pals here made it back in one piece — and maybe got a little tougher along the way."
The three members of Team 10 looked at one another. Now they were curious.
The quiet didn't last long.
"Okay, but seriously," Ino piped up, arms crossed. "What kind of C-rank mission takes almost two weeks and ends with everyone acting like you went through a warzone?"
Naruto blinked. "Whaaaaat? Nah, it was normal. Just… you know, a few bumps."
Sasuke snorted.
Shikamaru narrowed his eyes. "You're all walking straighter. Calmer. Like you're expecting to be hit right now."
"I am used to being hit," Naruto said with a proud grin.
"That's not something to brag about," Sakura muttered.
Choji glanced between them and scratched his head. "You guys were gone for a while. Something happened, didn't it?"
Asuma blew out a trail of smoke and waved a lazy hand. "Alright, alright, enough. They did their job, came back in one piece, that's all that matters."
"But Asuma-sensei—!"
"Nope," he said flatly, cutting Ino off with a raised finger. "This isn't a gossip session. You'll get your turn at 'exciting missions' soon enough, I promise."
Shikamaru grumbled. "Ugh. Sounds like a pain."
"Then count your blessings," Asuma muttered.
Still, he eyed Team 7 again.
Sasuke stood cool and aloof, but his eyes were sharper now. Watching. Judging.
Sakura wasn't fidgeting like she used to. Her posture was balanced, calm.
And Naruto… Naruto wasn't shouting or bouncing around like a pinball. He was smiling, but his smile looked a bit older now.
Daigo's doing, Asuma thought to himself. He gave his cigarette a lazy twirl between his fingers.
"Alright then, since my team's clearly not shutting up about it—" he turned to face Team 7, "—how've you three been holding up? Training still hell?"
Sasuke didn't answer, just gave a sideways glance as if to say obviously.
Sakura huffed, adjusting the grocery bag on her hip. "I think I'm developing trauma responses to the sound of a boar's roar."
Naruto grinned. "I haven't passed out once this week. So yeah, I think we're doing amazing."
Asuma chuckled. "Sounds about right."
He paused, then added, almost too casually, "How's your… uh, mentor?"
Sakura blinked. "You mean Daigo-sensei?"
"Mm-hm."
"Still insane," Naruto answered cheerfully. "But he made us lunch once, so he's alright."
Asuma nodded, then sighed dramatically, hands on his hips.
"Y'know," he began, glancing up at the clouds, "I remember a time when I was the cool one. Back in the day. All the girls loved the whole 'bad boy Sarutobi' thing."
Shikamaru groaned. "Here we go…"
Asuma jabbed his thumb toward his chest. "Then comes along this grinning, bokken swinging maniac with a death wish and suddenly he's the mysterious one everyone wants to talk to."
Sakura and Sasuke both gave a subtle side-eye. Naruto looked mildly confused.
"…Wait," Naruto said slowly. "Are you talking about—"
"I'm not bitter," Asuma cut in.
He wasn't looking at them anymore. Just smoking faster.
"Totally fine. Water under the bridge. Yup. Absolutely no hard feelings about a certain red-eyed raven-haired woman who definitely picked a lunatic over a gentleman. Nope. Not bitter at all."
Silence.
Team 10 just stared at him, dumbfounded.
Sasuke blinked.
Naruto leaned over to Sakura and whispered, "…I think he's mad about Kurenai-sensei."
Sakura whispered back, "You think?"
Ino, however, lit up like a gossip bomb.
"WAIT—you and Kurenai-sensei—?!"
"DROP IT," Asuma barked, red-faced, waving smoke in the air like a flag of surrender. "Back to D-rank chores! Now!"
Shikamaru sighed like it was his last breath. "Troublesome…"
Choji finished his chips. "I liked this mission better when we were just walking."
Naruto grinned. "Soooo… lunch?"
Sasuke rolled his eyes but didn't object. Even though he had rice crums on his palms.
As the two teams drifted off in different directions, the warm breeze of the village carried the sounds of laughter, light scolding, and a very flustered Sarutobi Jounin muttering something about wild boars stealing all the women.
The sunlight bled gold across the rooftops of Konoha, casting long shadows through the Hokage's open window. The warmth of the afternoon was muted inside the office, where silence sat heavy like old dust.
Danzo Shimura stood with both hands resting on his cane, single eye staring out through the circular window toward the distant forests. His bandaged face twitched only slightly when Hiruzen Sarutobi poured him tea.
"You're unusually quiet," the Third said, settling behind his desk with a weary groan. "Are you waiting for me to gloat?"
Danzo didn't turn. "You think I'd give you the satisfaction?"
Hiruzen chuckled, the sound aged and tired. "Well, you did call Daigo Guretsu an unpredictable, volatile threat with a taste for chaos. Twice. In front of the council."
"And I stand by the assessment." Danzo's voice was calm, unreadable. "But…"
He finally turned, facing his old comrade.
"…Perhaps chaos has its uses."
Hiruzen's brows lifted just slightly. "That almost sounded like praise."
"Don't push it."
The two men sat in silence for a moment, the tension not hostile — just old, familiar. Like ancient generals exchanging reports after a hard-fought battle, one neither could admit they were relieved to have survived.
"I'll admit," Danzo continued, "when Koharu, Homura, and I opposed the appointment, it was not without reason. You assigned a creature of instinct to guide two volatile forces. Uchiha Sasuke — whose blood boils with the curse of hatred — and the jinchūriki… the Nine-Tails itself."
Hiruzen puffed slowly on his pipe, not interrupting.
"I had plans for the boy," Danzo went on, tone casual, almost contemplative. "Years of groundwork. Of subtle influence. Slowly, gently, we could have honed Uzumaki into the weapon this village needs."
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed slightly. "Naruto is not a weapon."
Danzo didn't flinch. "Everything is a weapon, Hiruzen. It simply depends on how you wield it. You prefer toys with hearts. I prefer blades without."
The silence returned for a moment, heavier now.
"…But," Danzo admitted, voice quieter, "it appears the Silver Boar has done what we could not. The boy is maturing. Rapidly. And not into the unstable threat we feared. His development is… refined. Disciplined, even."
Hiruzen smiled faintly, as if vindicated.
"And Sasuke?" the Hokage asked.
Danzo's expression darkened, but only slightly. "Still a flight risk. Still emotionally unstable. His obsession with Itachi clouds reason."
"But?"
"But," Danzo muttered, "Guretsu's presence has tempered the boy. Slightly. I do not believe he's been cured of his clan's poison… but perhaps he has been delayed from becoming another Madara."
Hiruzen exhaled, eyes drifting to the fading light beyond the window.
"There's method to Daigo's madness, Danzo," he said softly. "He sees people not as tools or threats, but as potential. Even in their ugliest moments."
Danzo snorted. "Spoken like a man who still believes in the Will of Fire."
"I have to," Hiruzen said, and for once, the idealism in his voice wasn't performative. "Or I would've lost this village long ago."
Danzo stood after a moment, tapping his cane twice.
"I still think you gamble too freely," he muttered, turning toward the door. "But this time, perhaps… your mad boar is the right beast for the hunt."
He paused at the doorway.
"I won't interfere with the jinchūriki's training."
Hiruzen blinked.
"Not yet."
And then he was gone, cloak billowing like a shadow in motion, leaving only the scent of iron and old sandalwood in his wake.
The Third Hokage leaned back and let the silence wash over him, eyes closed. So far, the gamble was paying off.