[Konohagakure — Hokage Tower Plaza, October 28th, 5:47 PM]
The sundown bell rang once across the village, low and bronze and slow, the kind of sound that walked through walls instead of around them. The plaza tiles caught the last of the light in long red stripes, and the air smelled of charcoal grills firing up for the dinner rush — yakitori fat hitting hot coals, the green vegetable smell of shishito peppers blistering in iron pans, and somewhere on the wind a thread of jasmine from the tea house on Tobirama Avenue.
The crowd was bigger than it had been for the villain ranking. Word had gotten around. Most Likely to Save the World was the kind of category that pulled the academy students out of their dormitories in pajamas and slippers, the kind that made the dango woman close her stall early and drag her overturned crate to the front row.
Naruto was already there, of course. Front and center, orange jacket zipped to the throat against the autumn chill, hair sticking up in the back the way it always did when he hadn't bothered to comb it. Sakura stood beside him with her arms folded, pink hair tucked behind her ears, the medic pouch on her hip bulging slightly because she'd refilled it twice today after the Kabuto briefing. Sasuke was three paces behind them, leaning against a lamppost with his cloak pulled around his shoulders, pretending not to be interested and failing at it.
The scroll unfurled with a soft whuff of displaced air.
THE TENTH RANKING — MOST LIKELY TO SAVE THE WORLD — PART ONE
The chat scroll, pinned beneath, lit up before the title even finished forming.
Naruto: OH MAN OH MAN OH MAN I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS DATTEBAYO
Kushina: sweetie breathe
Naruto: MOM I AM BREATHING I'M BREATHING SO HARD
Minato: that's hyperventilating, son
Naruto: SAME THING
Tsunade: if this brat is number one I'm going to laugh so hard I crack a rib
Jiraiya: hime the brat IS going to be number one
Tsunade: I KNOW that's why I'm preparing my ribs
Madara: Why am I in this chat for this category. I do not save worlds. I end them.
Tobirama: Then mute it.
Madara: I cannot mute it. The scroll has locked my notifications.
Hashirama: the scroll knows you Madara, the scroll sees you
Madara: THE SCROLL IS A PIECE OF PARCHMENT
Tobirama: A piece of parchment that has more emotional intelligence than you.
Madara: TOBIRAMA
The scroll's voice rolled out, calm and gender-neutral as ever, with that faint undertone of amusement it only got when the category was a kind one.
"Most Likely to Save the World. Ranked by composite metrics of demonstrated capacity for sacrifice, ideological flexibility, the ability to inspire loyalty in former enemies, and the rare and specific willingness to choose forgiveness over righteousness. Footage will be selective. Tissues are available at the eastern aid station, courtesy of the Konoha Medical Corps."
A small cheer went up from Shizune's station near the fountain, where she had, indeed, stockpiled three crates of paper handkerchiefs at Tsunade's grim insistence.
EIGHTH PLACE.
The ink bled. A portrait formed — broad shoulders, a flak jacket worn loose, a scar bisecting the bridge of the nose, dark hair pulled back in a short tail.
UMINO IRUKA.
The crowd made a sound that wasn't surprise so much as recognition. Of course.
Iruka, standing at the back of the plaza in his academy chūnin uniform with a smudge of chalk dust on his sleeve, made a noise like a man who had just been hit in the stomach by a thrown sandal.
"Wh— me? Eighth? I'm a teacher, I —"
"Umino Iruka. Academy instructor. Ranked eighth on the basis of: the single most consequential act of faith in the modern era of Konoha, performed at age twenty-five, on a forested hillside, toward a twelve-year-old boy holding a forbidden scroll and the entire weight of the village's hatred. The subject's decision to defend that boy with his body, and to name him as a student rather than a weapon, is, by the scroll's calculation, the inflection point at which the future was bent."
The plaza went quiet.
Naruto's hand found Sakura's, without him quite meaning to. She squeezed it once, hard, and let go before he could be embarrassed about it.
Naruto: iruka-sensei
Iruka: Naruto.
Naruto: iruka-sensei i
Iruka: Eat dinner at my place tonight. Ramen.
Naruto: OKAY
Iruka: Sakura too.
Sakura: I — okay, sensei.
Iruka: And Sasuke.
Sasuke: ...fine.
Iruka: Bring the appetite of three people, Sasuke, I know you don't eat enough.
Sasuke: WHO TOLD YOU
Itachi: I did.
Sasuke: ANIKI
"Reward: one bound volume of every student record the subject has ever written, restored from archives and reconstructed where lost. The subject is encouraged to read what he wrote about a seven-year-old Naruto Uzumaki on page forty-three."
A thick book the color of cedar bark dropped neatly into Iruka's hands. He stared at it. He turned to page forty-three on instinct, and the crowd watched his face do something complicated — eyes flicking left to right, mouth opening, closing, the line of his jaw tightening.
He thought: I wrote — I wrote that he had bright eyes. I wrote that. I forgot I wrote that. God, I was angry then. I was so angry at him for being alive and now I —
He closed the book very carefully and pressed it against his chest like a small animal.
The scroll flickered.
SEVENTH PLACE.
The portrait that formed made the academy students near the front shriek with delight. Round cheeks, a paint stripe down each side of the face in the Inuzuka style — except this wasn't an Inuzuka.
ROCK LEE.
"YOOOOSH!"
Lee's voice came from somewhere in the middle of the crowd, where he had been doing one-armed pushups on the tile while waiting for the ranking to start. He sprang to his feet, fist raised, eyes already brimming.
"I AM RANKED! I, ROCK LEE, A SHINOBI WHO CANNOT USE NINJUTSU OR GENJUTSU, AM RANKED AMONG THOSE MOST LIKELY TO SAVE THE WORLD!"
Guy: LEE!!! MY STUDENT!!! THE FLAMES OF YOUTH HAVE BEEN MEASURED AND FOUND WORTHY!!!
Lee: GUY-SENSEI!!!
Guy: LEE!!!
Tenten: oh god they're doing it again
Neji: the sunset is going to start. it always starts.
Tenten: I will pay the scroll to skip the sunset
Scroll: No.
Tenten: ANSWERED PRAYERS
"Rock Lee. Konoha shinobi. Ranked seventh on the basis of: the documented capacity to inspire belief in possibility itself. Subject possesses no kekkei genkai, no clan jutsu, no chakra-based ninjutsu of any kind, and yet remains one of the most physically dangerous shinobi of his generation. The world, in its various crises, is often saved not by power but by the existence of people who refuse to accept that they cannot help. The subject is one such person."
Lee was crying openly now. Guy was crying openly. They were embracing in the middle of the plaza, and the sunset — there was, in fact, a sunset, the scroll having either generated one or simply timed the ranking to coincide with the real one — bloomed orange and gold behind them, and several jōnin in the crowd quietly covered their eyes with their hands.
"Reward: one pair of training weights, calibrated to the subject's current strength threshold plus fifteen percent. May be worn or discarded at the subject's discretion."
Two iron weights the size of large books dropped into the plaza with a thud that cracked one of the tiles. Lee caught them, beaming, and immediately strapped them to his ankles.
"I WILL DO ONE THOUSAND PUSHUPS TONIGHT IN GRATITUDE!"
"Lee," said Tenten, "please eat dinner first."
"AFTER THE PUSHUPS!"
"Lee."
The scroll flickered.
SIXTH PLACE.
The portrait that formed made the chat go briefly, unexpectedly soft. White hair, a mask pulled high over the lower half of the face, one eye half-lidded with the perpetual look of a man who would rather be reading.
HATAKE KAKASHI.
Kakashi: ...oh no.
Obito: OH YES
Obito: KAKASHI YOU'RE SIXTH
Kakashi: Obito please
Obito: SIXTH MOST LIKELY TO SAVE THE WORLD
Obito: YOU HEAR ME BAKASHI
Kakashi: I would like to leave the chat now.
Rin: you're not leaving the chat
Kakashi: Rin
Rin: sit down silver-hair, accept your ranking
Kakashi: ...fine.
"Hatake Kakashi. Konoha shinobi, former ANBU, current jōnin sensei. Ranked sixth on the basis of: the consistent, decades-long pattern of carrying other people's burdens at personal cost, the rehabilitation of one Uchiha Obito through the simple and unglamorous act of showing up to coffee every morning for three weeks, and the documented willingness to stand between the world and harm on behalf of children who are not, technically, his responsibility."
The plaza was very quiet for a moment.
Obito thought: every morning. He showed up every morning. Even the morning after I yelled at him about Rin. He just brought two cups and a stupid book and sat there. Bastard. Beautiful bastard.
"Reward: one first edition, signed, of the complete Icha Icha Paradise series, including the unpublished final volume. The scroll's design committee notes, for the record, that this reward was approved against the strenuous objections of three of its members."
A stack of orange books materialized in the air above Kakashi's head, tied with a black ribbon. He caught them. He looked at the top one. The unpublished volume, signed in Jiraiya's loose, looping hand: To my favorite reader. Don't tell Tsunade.
Tsunade: JIRAIYA
Jiraiya: hime I can explain
Tsunade: YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS
Jiraiya: I cannot in fact explain
"Reward also includes: one standing dinner invitation from Uchiha Obito, redeemable at the recipient's convenience, transferable to no one."
Kakashi closed his eye. The corner of his mask creased the way it did when he was, quietly, smiling.
"I'll redeem it tomorrow," he said, to no one in particular.
"You already redeemed it three weeks running," Obito said from somewhere in the crowd. "You owe me twelve coffees, Bakashi."
"Put it on my tab."
"YOU DON'T HAVE A TAB YOU CHEAP—"
The scroll flickered.
FIFTH PLACE.
The portrait that formed made Sakura inhale sharply and then immediately try to pretend she hadn't.
Pink hair. Green eyes. A red diamond on the forehead, just barely visible at the portrait's edge — the seal not yet activated in the image, but unmistakable.
HARUNO SAKURA.
Sakura: what.
Sakura: WHAT.
Ino: FOREHEAD
Sakura: INO
Ino: FIFTH MOST LIKELY TO SAVE THE WORLD FOREHEAD I AM SCREAMING
Sakura: I'M SCREAMING TOO
Tsunade: of course she's on this list
Tsunade: I trained her. obviously.
Shizune: Tsunade-sama she earned it on her own
Tsunade: I KNOW SHE DID I'M JUST SAYING I TAUGHT HER WELL
"Haruno Sakura. Konoha shinobi, medic, apprentice of Tsunade Senju. Ranked fifth on the basis of: the inheritance of the Strength of a Hundred technique through three years of meditation and chakra refinement, demonstrated capacity to single-handedly stabilize battlefield casualties at a scale previously thought impossible for one medic, and the rare and specific ability to punch the architect of Infinite Tsukuyomi in the face while also keeping him alive long enough for the war to be won."
Madara: SHE DID NOT PUNCH ME
Tobirama: The footage says otherwise.
Madara: THE FOOTAGE IS BIASED
Sakura: sir I literally punched you
Madara: YOU CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD
Sakura: that's how punching works
Madara: TOBIRAMA MAKE HER STOP
Tobirama: No. This is the best day I've had in three weeks.
"Reward: one set of medical-grade chakra scalpels, custom-forged, balanced for the recipient's grip. Also: one handwritten note from Tsunade Senju, contents private."
The scalpels — a slim leather case, seven blades inside — materialized in Sakura's hand. The note appeared a beat later, folded twice, sealed with Tsunade's personal stamp.
Sakura opened it.
Whatever it said made her press the back of her hand against her mouth and turn her face away from the crowd. Naruto, beside her, didn't ask. He just put his shoulder against hers and stood there until she could breathe again.
Naruto thought: she's the strongest person I know and she's crying about a note. People are weird. I love her. I'm gonna get her extra ramen at Iruka-sensei's tonight.
The scroll flickered. The crimson border pulsed, deepening toward gold.
"Places four through one will be revealed at the next gathering. Three days hence. The scroll reminds its viewers that this category, more than any other it has measured, is subject to change in real time. The future is not yet written. The world is not yet saved. The list, as always, is a forecast — not a verdict."
The scroll dimmed.
The crowd began to disperse, slower this time, in clusters and pairs, the way people leave a temple after a memorial. Iruka was still holding his book against his chest. Lee was, as promised, doing pushups. Kakashi had vanished, which probably meant he was on a rooftop somewhere reading the unpublished volume with the sun in his eye.
Sakura folded her note into quarters and tucked it inside her medic pouch, next to the chakra scalpels.
[Konohagakure — Hokage Tower Plaza, October 31st, 5:51 PM]
The plaza had been swept clean for the second showing. The dango woman, who had spent the three intervening days complaining that her stall had outsold every other vendor on Hashirama Street and that she demanded a permanent front-row crate, had been given a permanent front-row crate. She sat on it now with her hands folded in her apron, the smell of toasted soy and burnt sugar drifting off her cart in slow, sweet curls.
The chat had been quiet for most of the day. Everyone knew what was coming. Or thought they did. Three names left, and the village had been running its own bracket in tea houses and barracks and the back rooms of the Yamanaka flower shop for seventy-two hours straight.
The scroll unfurled.
THE TENTH RANKING — MOST LIKELY TO SAVE THE WORLD — PART TWO
Madara: Let us see if the scroll has any taste left.
Tobirama: It has more than you.
Madara: It is a sentient parchment.
Tobirama: And it still outranks you.
Hashirama: boys
Madara & Tobirama: WHAT.
Hashirama: nothing I just like watching you bicker, please continue
"Places four through one. Ranked by composite metrics as previously specified. The scroll notes, with respect, that the ordering of the top four was the subject of the longest internal deliberation in its operational history. Three of the four were contested. The first was not."
A murmur ran through the crowd. The first was not.
FOURTH PLACE.
The portrait formed slowly, as if even the scroll was reluctant to commit. Dark hair falling over one eye. Sharingan, three tomoe each, settled at the resting state. A small, tired smile.
UCHIHA ITACHI.
The crowd inhaled. Sasuke, at the back, went very still.
"Uchiha Itachi. Konoha shinobi. Ranked fourth on the basis of: a sustained, decades-long act of personal sacrifice in service of preventing a civil war that would have, by the scroll's projection, killed approximately forty-seven thousand civilians and triggered the collapse of the Fire Country's western infrastructure. The subject accepted the public role of the worst person in the village so that the village would survive. The scroll notes that this is, mathematically, the most efficient single decision recorded in the modern era."
Itachi: Forty-seven thousand is generous. My own projections were lower.
Shisui: itachi please accept the compliment for once in your life
Itachi: I am accepting it. I am simply noting the math.
Shisui: YOU'RE DEFLECTING THE MATH IS DEFLECTION
Itachi: Shisui.
Shisui: itachi.
Sasuke: Both of you stop. Aniki, sit down and accept it.
Itachi: ...Yes, otōto.
"Reward: one afternoon, uninterrupted, with one (1) brother of the subject's choosing. Location: the subject's discretion. Duration: three hours. The scroll's design committee notes that the recipient already knows which brother."
Itachi was quiet for a long moment.
Itachi: Sasuke.
Sasuke: Yes.
Itachi: The dango shop on Senju Avenue. Tomorrow. After your team meeting.
Sasuke: ...Yes.
Itachi: I will pay.
Sasuke: No. I will.
Itachi: Sasuke.
Sasuke: I will pay, aniki. That's not up for negotiation.
Itachi: ...Very well.
Somewhere in the crowd, Sakura made a small sound and pressed her hands against her face. Naruto, beside her, patted her shoulder with the awkward earnestness of a man whose best friend was, against all reasonable expectation, healing.
The scroll flickered.
THIRD PLACE.
The portrait that formed made the chat go quiet for an entirely different reason. Long blonde hair, pulled back. Blue eyes. A flak jacket worn open over a dark shirt, and the Yondaime's haori hanging from the shoulders like it had been borrowed and never returned.
NAMIKAZE MINATO.
Naruto: DAD
Kushina: OF COURSE
Minato: ...third?
Kushina: sweetie you sealed a tailed beast into our infant son with your dying breath you ARE on this list
Minato: I know but third is —
Kushina: MINATO
Minato: I'm just saying I would have guessed fifth
Tsunade: Minato I love you but read the room
Minato: ...yes ma'am.
"Namikaze Minato. Fourth Hokage of Konohagakure. Ranked third on the basis of: the development and refinement of the Hiraishin technique, the sealing of the Nine-Tailed Fox into a newborn at the cost of his own life, the establishment of a tactical doctrine that has saved an estimated nineteen thousand shinobi lives in the years since his death, and the cultivation of a son who is, by every measurable metric, going to outrank him on this very list."
Naruto: WAIT
Naruto: WAIT WAIT WAIT
Naruto: AM I ON THIS LIST
Tsunade: brat read the room
Naruto: I AM READING THE ROOM I'M JUST CHECKING
Minato: son, I love you, please breathe
Naruto: DAD I'M BREATHING I'M BREATHING SO HARD
Kushina: that's hyperventilating
Naruto: SAME THING
"Reward: one full day, uninterrupted, in the living world, with the subject's wife and son. Restrictions: the subject may not engage in combat or sealing work during this period. The scroll's design committee feels strongly about this last point."
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