Two years passed in a blur.
Seiran had climbed steadily through the Academy ranks, his strength growing with each sparring session against Rin. Yet six months ago, progress had stalled. His Electromagnetic Manipulation experience points crawled forward at a glacial pace. The comfortable routine of Academy life had become a cage.
He needed real combat. He needed pressure.
The Third Shinobi World War loomed on the horizon, and with it came urgency. Even a system like his couldn't accelerate growth without actual threats to respond to. Stagnation was death in this world.
Seiran sat at his usual spot in Ichiraku Ramen, steam from the broth rising between him and Rin. She leaned back in her chair, eyebrow raised.
"You want to graduate early?"
"Yeah." He slurped a mouthful of noodles. "The Academy's safe, but you don't really grow until you taste real combat."
Rin's eyes narrowed. She studied him like he'd sprouted a second head. "Who are you? Did someone swap out the lazy Seiran I know?"
He shrugged. "Kakashi did it."
Her expression shifted instantly—a grin spreading across her face. "Finally. I've been rotting in that place. Was about to file the paperwork myself."
Relief flooded through him. One piece in place.
"We need a third," Rin said, tapping her chopsticks against the bowl. "Two can't form a proper squad."
"Already handled it. Anko Mitarashi. She can pass the assessment."
Rin's shoulders relaxed. "Good. Better someone we know than a stranger."
She fell quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting. A shadow crossed her face—old pain, the kind that didn't fade easily. A year ago, the village had been shaken by news of the White Fang's defeat, his mission abandoned. Weeks later came the darker truth: Hatake Sakumo had taken his own life.
Kakashi had graduated immediately after, becoming the youngest prodigy Konoha had ever seen. But genius came at a cost. He cycled through temporary squads, his cold efficiency leaving friction in his wake.
Rin shook her head, forcing the memories away.
"Kakashi's gunning for Chunin," she said. "If he can do it, so can I."
---
The announcement that three Academy students were graduating early caused barely a ripple. Rin was a known talent—she'd competed with Kakashi for top ranking before his departure. Seiran, despite his lazy reputation, carried the dual-bloodline advantage of being a Hyuga anomaly. And Anko... people had mixed opinions about her, but whispers of her potential floated through the village.
At the Assessment Field, Seiran emerged from the testing building to find Rin waiting, arms crossed, looking smug.
"Three minutes faster than you," she said flatly.
"Are we really doing this?"
He glanced back at the entrance. Anko was still inside, tackling the practical portion—holding her own against a Jonin opponent. The written tests had been simple: basic jutsu theory, tactical history, Academy fundamentals. But the combat trial was different. This was where talent proved itself.
Time crawled. Seiran's patience frayed.
Anko wasn't just a teammate for convenience. The Caged Bird Curse Mark bound the Hyuga branch family to their main house, and breaking it required more than raw power. It required knowledge. Orochimaru had studied forbidden sealing techniques, and Anko had been trained by him in the original timeline. She was a bridge to resources he couldn't access alone.
Finally, the door opened.
Anko stumbled out, drenched in sweat, face pale but triumphant. She wheezed out: "Barely passed."
Seiran smiled. "You did great."
---
Since only three students were graduating this cycle, their team assignment was automatic. The only mystery remaining was their Jonin instructor.
At the training ground, the three of them waited. Anko shifted nervously beside him.
"Who do you think it'll be?" she asked.
"Someone strong," Seiran replied. "We deserve the best."
Rin nodded in agreement. She was genuinely talented—genius-level. Anko had legitimate training from one of the legendary Sannin. Their squad had potential.
A figure approached from the trees. Loose-fitting cloak. Dark sunglasses. An aura that was difficult to read.
"I will be your Jonin instructor," the man said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I am Aburame Shibi."
Rin's eyes widened. "Shibi?"
"You know him?" Anko asked.
"Aburame clan master. Insect techniques—reconnaissance, combat, support. He's essentially an all-rounder."
Anko shivered visibly.
"Correct," Shibi said, his tone unchanged. "I like insects. I hate things that eat insects. Now—introduce yourselves."
Seiran stepped forward. "Hyuga Seiran. I'm decent at taijutsu. I like ramen and barbecue. My dream is world peace."
Anko rolled her eyes. "You said that when we entered the Academy."
Rin smirked.
"An interesting objective," Shibi said simply, turning to Rin.
"Uchiha Rin. I dislike nothing in particular and like nothing in particular. I enjoy the thrill of battle and growing stronger."
Typical Uchiha arrogance, Seiran thought.
Shibi shifted his attention to Anko.
"I'm Mitarashi Anko," she said quietly, raising her hand. "I love sweets and hate people who betray their teammates. I can provide medical support with bandages. I won't be a burden."
Shibi nodded slightly.
"Combat assessment. Begin."
With a wave of his hand, a swarm of black insects erupted toward them.
"Eek!" Anko shrieked.
Seiran's electromagnetic perception flared to life. The insects moved in coordinated patterns, fast as bullets. He drew his metal shuriken, hovering them in the air with magnetic force.
"Shuriken: Shadow Senbon!"
The blades fragmented into dozens of needles, cutting through the swarm like rain through paper.
Simultaneously, Rin's Sharingan activated, tomoe spinning as she tracked trajectories.
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
Flame engulfed the remaining insects, burning chitin scenting the air.
Shibi vanished from sight.
"Above!" Seiran called out.
Shibi dropped from the canopy, legs coated in a shimmering layer of insects. His foot slammed down. Earth erupted as more bugs burst forth, forming a living wall that consumed Rin's fireball.
Anko bit her thumb, blood smearing her palm as she moved toward Seiran.
"Mystical Palm!"
A faint green glow sealed a minor wound on his arm.
Seiran reached into his pouch and pulled out a small metal plate. His Electromagnetic Manipulation hummed to life—Level 1. Not enough for a true Electromagnetic Railgun, but sufficient for this.
He crushed the plate, using magnetic adsorption to pull scattered shuriken fragments together, forming a dense cloud of metal debris.
"Magnetic Storm Palm!"
The cloud shot forward like a shotgun blast, tearing through the insect wall.
Shibi clicked his tongue—surprise breaking through his monotone—and retreated, cloak fluttering.
"Enough," he said.
The insects stopped. They retreated into his sleeves.
Seiran lowered his hand. Metal fragments clattered to the ground.
"You passed," Shibi said, adjusting his sunglasses. "Your coordination needs work, but individual skills are exceptional. Seiran uses magnetic forces unconventionally. Rin provides tactical advantage through the Sharingan. Anko, you have potential. But we have much to accomplish."
Rin deactivated her Sharingan, looking satisfied. Anko collapsed to her knees, panting hard.
"Really?" she gasped.
"Yes. Rest now. We begin D-rank missions tomorrow. Welcome to the real shinobi world."
Seiran smiled as he watched the sun set over the village. Team 7 was reformed—but different. Better. And his path forward was finally clear.