Training Ground Zero, Konohagakure.
A light breeze rustled the treetops, and sunlight filtered dimly through the dense forest canopy.
Rustle… rustle…
From the tall grass about half a meter high, the sound of something moving echoed faintly.
A trio of kids, the usual bullies who picked on Naruto, lay flat on the ground.
The tallest boy, clearly the leader, held a kunai tightly in his hand, eyes fixed on the rustling grass ahead.
Rustle…
The sound crept closer.
Gulp.
The scrawniest of the three nervously swallowed, the sound of his saliva unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
Rustle—
Suddenly, the rustling stopped.
The tall boy shot a glare at his nervous teammate, annoyed.
Switching his grip on the kunai from a forward hold to a reverse one, he raised his thick arm high, taking aim.
With a sharp grunt, he flung the kunai at the source of the sound!
Thud!
Out of the grass burst a startled grey rabbit. A patch of fur on its back had clearly been shaved off. Kicking its legs frantically, it bolted into the trees and disappeared around a bend.
The tall boy scrambled up, only to watch helplessly as the rabbit vanished into the forest.
His kunai, meanwhile, lay buried in the dirt, the only trace of the rabbit a small tuft of gray fur drifting away in the breeze.
"Boss, i-it's gone!" the skinny boy stammered, disappointed, eyes still locked on the direction the rabbit had run.
Hearing this, the tall boy's face darkened in fury. That rabbit had been the best catch all day—until this idiot ruined it by making noise!
Smack!
The tall boy, Yūta, slapped the back of the skinny boy's head.
"You couldn't hold out for five seconds? Are you really that hungry?!"
"But, Boss! The smell of rabbit meat was just too good! I couldn't help it…" the freckled boy, Taiji, mumbled, rubbing his head with a pitiful expression.
Their other teammate, Ryūya—his face still bruised from when Naruto had punched him days ago—hurried forward to break up the argument.
"Hey, let's not fight, guys—"
Before he could finish, a soft, calm voice spoke from above.
"Now now, little ones. No fighting."
All three boys froze, then looked up in unison.
Perched casually on a thick branch above them was a tall, lean shinobi with blue-white hair and a relaxed smile.
"Mizuki-sensei!!"
The three boys blanched in horror.
"State your class and names. Hand over your food and water, and continue the exercise," Mizuki said, swinging his fist lazily as he looked down on them.
"Or don't. Your choice."
"Run!" Yūta shouted, and the three scattered instantly, each darting in a different direction.
Mizuki's narrow eyes narrowed further. A moment later—
All three boys knelt in a line, sorted by height, with red bumps forming on their heads and their gazes fixed firmly on the ground. Mizuki jotted down their names, completely ignoring their bitter looks, then slung their supplies onto his back and bounded away.
Swish. Swish.
As Mizuki strolled across the treetops, he patrolled lazily.
Honestly, calling these students "greenhouse flowers" might even be generous. Letting the upperclassmen handle the training was one thing, but what was the point of sending in the first-years?
Their stealth was laughable—like a torch in the dead of night. Completely impossible to hide.
He had already gone easy on them, and still, a large number of students were caught almost immediately after entering the training zone.
In just one day…
Many first-years had already been caught twice—one more time and they'd be disqualified.
Why? Because after getting caught the first time and losing their rations, they resorted to hunting animals and lighting fires.
No smoke-free fire pits. Just big, dumb smoke signals.
The thick plumes rising from their fires were practically a slap to his face.
Whoosh…
Mizuki hadn't walked far before he spotted yet another column of smoke rising ahead.
Another clueless first-year, no doubt.
But this smoke was really thick… What the heck were they roasting over there?
His brows furrowed. Slinging the bag more tightly, Mizuki headed toward the smoke.
The closer he got, the thicker the smoke became. Thick, black plumes billowed upward, as if someone intended to set the whole forest on fire.
Did these idiots actually light the woods on fire!?
Worried, Mizuki sped up. A few bounds later—
"Oh-ho-ho! This boar smells amazing!"
Even before reaching the clearing, loud, unabashed laughter hit his ears.
Who were these idiots? Were they trying to get caught?
He finally reached the source of the smoke.
A massive wild boar head, peaceful in death with its eyes closed, lay on a flat stone, still dripping blood.
Its limbs and torso had been butchered into five parts, skewered on clean branches, and now roasted over a raging bonfire set between two small trees.
The flames roared with crackling black smoke.
And there, in a bright orange tracksuit, a blond-haired boy with his back to Mizuki sprinkled salt over the meat with a contented sigh, clearly drooling.
This is supposed to be a survival training—not Iron Chef.
He's actually grilling a feast out here.
Mizuki was almost speechless at the absurdity.
Survival training was about staying alive without getting caught. Finding food and water while remaining unseen was the whole point.
Hunting wasn't an issue.
For a ninja with chakra, most predators were no more than walking meat.
Even this boar—big as it was—wasn't too ridiculous. Any Genin with an elemental jutsu could take it down.
Naruto's combat instincts? Passable. Stealth? Zero. Grade? Lowest.
Mizuki mentally filed his assessment.
He had to teach these kids a lesson—how important stealth was in the wild. That boar? Confiscated.
Thud.
Mizuki silently dropped from the tree and crept up behind the blond boy as he salted the meat.
His steps made no sound.
Not even a flicker of awareness from the boy.
Mizuki sighed and shook his head. "No situational awareness in the field… That's another point off."
Startled by the sudden voice behind him, the blond jumped and spun around.
"S-Sensei Mizuki?!"
Naruto's shocked face stared up at him. Mizuki instantly recognized him.
The demon fox brat from Iruka's class.
Mizuki's mouth twisted into a sneer, his eyes flashing with contempt. Seeing that face made his already sour mood even worse.
"You know the rules. That's one strike. Hand over all the food. One more time and you're disqualified—"
"Oi! Mizuki—!!" a voice called from above, interrupting him mid-sentence.
Mizuki looked up.
Another teacher, also wearing a shinobi vest, waved from a branch nearby, gesturing for him to back off.
It was one of his colleagues from the neighboring class—someone he usually got along with.
What was that supposed to mean?
Was he being told not to interfere?
Was this because of the Nine-Tails?
Mizuki frowned, puzzled, but before he could speak—
"I won't let you take it! This boar was hunted by Hikari! I'm not letting anyone touch it!"
Naruto stepped forward, spreading his arms to shield the boar, eyes blazing with determination.
He looked like he was ready to go to war over it.
Hikari…?
That name struck a familiar chord in Mizuki's mind.
Wait a second…
Then it hit him.
The blind girl who hospitalized Wind Instructor Kazama on her first day.
Ever since that story got out, every teacher in the academy had made a silent pact: Do not mess with that girl.
Mizuki knew for a fact—he couldn't take a beating like Kazama.
So this boar was hers?
He quickly looked to his colleague again.
"Just walk away," his colleague mouthed silently, eyebrows raised, signaling repeatedly.
Ohhh…
So that's why nobody else had come near, despite all the smoke.
True bro.
Mizuki gave him a grateful look, then slowly backed away from Naruto.
Thunk. Thunk.
A distant tapping sound echoed through the trees.
Mizuki turned.
Approaching was a silver-haired blind girl, walking confidently with a cane.
No hesitation now—Mizuki turned and bolted.
Naruto stuck his tongue out playfully at Mizuki's retreating figure. He flashed an "OK" sign toward the teacher who helped them, then turned back to his barbecue, salt still in hand.
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