Chapter 10 – The Team
Danzo entered without knocking. His footsteps were silent, but his presence pressed into the room like a cold wind. He stopped in front of Hiruzen's desk, hands clasped behind his back, his voice calm and calculated.
"Kakashi and Raigatsu Kiyemi. Both of them are exceptional. Talents like that belong in Root. Give me one. There, they'll receive true training, real discipline. They'll learn what it means to serve the village with absolute loyalty."
Hiruzen looked up at him, eyes tired, but unwavering.
"They are the future of Konoha. Bright, unchained, and free. Their growth must not come from the shadows, but from the light. They will not be weapons to be buried underground. Root will not have them."
Danzo's lips twitched with irritation, but he said nothing more. He turned sharply, the door slamming behind him as he left.
That same morning, the gates of the village stirred with a familiar rustle. Jiraiya strolled in, dust clinging to his robes, hair as wild as ever. He hummed to himself, catching the drifting snippets of conversation on the streets.
"They say she's a prodigy. No clan, no name, but already stronger than most chunin..."
"Not just her—White Fang's son, too. And the younger Sarutobi... a whole squad of monsters."
Jiraiya smirked.
"Well now... sounds like Konoha's getting interesting again."
He made his way straight to the Hokage's tower and didn't wait for permission before speaking.
"Hey, old man. You assembling legends again?"
Hiruzen smiled at the sound of the familiar voice, then turned serious.
"There's a team that needs a sensei. Not just any team. These three... they're different."
Jiraiya crossed his arms behind his head.
"And if they turn out to be less than expected?"
"Then you'll refuse. I'm counting on your judgment."
The white-haired sannin grinned. "Fine. When and where?"
"Tomorrow morning. Training Ground Forty-Seven. They've already been informed."
"I'll be there," he said, his curiosity now fully stirred.
The sun rose over Konoha, and Kakashi was already awake, as always. In the silence of the garden, his wooden sword moved in flawless arcs. Each strike cut the air with purpose, no wasted movement, no hesitation.
There was no one to speak to, no one to wait for. He didn't wonder what kind of sensei they'd get. He only cared about one thing: becoming stronger than yesterday. In his mind, he saw Kiyemi—measured, quiet, unreadable. Asuma—too soft, too kind. But even kindness could have its own strength.
Kiyemi's training was already done by the time the sun touched the roofs. She sat by the water, legs crossed, eyes closed. Her chakra moved calmly through her network, every motion purposeful. She had already considered the possible tests: physical trials, genjutsu traps, teamwork evaluations, psychological pressure. The man they'd meet wouldn't be ordinary. So neither would his expectations.
She wouldn't show everything. Just enough.
Asuma was a storm in his own room—digging through drawers, fixing his forehead protector for the third time, doing push-ups, then forgetting the count halfway through. He tried to look calm in the mirror. He failed. Then tried again. Kiyemi had barely looked at him the day before.
Maybe today she would.
They gathered at the appointed ground. None of them spoke. The silence stretched as long as the shadows.
Then a voice dropped from the trees.
"Yo! So you're the legendary little geniuses, huh?"
The man landed with ease, red cloak fluttering, white mane wild around his shoulders. He looked at them with a lopsided grin.
"I'm Jiraiya. One of the Legendary Sannin. You can call me sensei. Or Jiraiya-sama, if you're feeling respectful."
Kakashi stared at him, unreadable. Kiyemi observed him like a puzzle yet to be solved. Asuma whispered to no one in particular, "This guy's really our sensei...?"
Jiraiya scanned their faces and clapped his hands.
"Well then, introductions. Honestly, and properly. Name, strengths, dislikes, favorite food, and your goal. No holding back."
Kakashi stepped forward first, tone flat.
"Hatake Kakashi. Strongest in kenjutsu. My chakra affinities are lightning and earth. I don't like people who break the rules. Favorite food: miso soup. Goal—become the strongest shinobi I can. For the sake of the village."
Kiyemi's voice was calm, clear.
"Raigatsu Kiyemi. Skilled in taijutsu and fūinjutsu. My affinities are fire and wind. I dislike empty talk and weakness. I like ginger tea and chilled fruit. My goal is to protect... and to win."
Asuma fumbled slightly but stood tall.
"Sarutobi Asuma. Still figuring things out. Strongest in taijutsu and wind release. I hate losing. I like grilled chicken with rice. My goal... is to keep up with them. To be worthy of my name."
Jiraiya grinned again, then spoke with a surprising weight to his voice.
"And me? Jiraiya. I'm good at just about everything—except cooking. I like good sake, hot springs, and beautiful women. I hate boredom. My goal? To write the greatest book ever penned... and to raise the next legend."
He paused, letting the grin fade.
"Tomorrow, we'll hold a test. It won't be a game. If you fail, you won't make it into the team. No exceptions. Show up ready."
Then his eyes settled on Kiyemi.
"They say you're not a child, but a weapon. I wonder... maybe you're something more."
That evening, the village dipped into orange light.
Kakashi sat alone beneath the lanterns, sharpening his kunai in steady rhythm. He didn't doubt himself. Not even once. His thoughts were already mapping the battlefield—strategy, counters, control.
Kiyemi surrounded herself with open scrolls, listing possibilities, tactics, psychological angles. She didn't believe the test would be typical. Neither would the man giving it.
Asuma tried to meditate. Failed. Tried push-ups. Failed again. He finally grabbed his wooden sword and began to spar with the shadows on his wall. His thoughts wandered—his father, Kiyemi's silence, Kakashi's distance.
He would prove himself. Not just to them, but to himself.