The graduation ceremony was simple. A scroll, a forehead protector, and a few words of acknowledgment. No pomp, no grand speeches, just quiet recognition of competence. Minazuki-sensei had spoken with me after class a week earlier, his tone calm as always:
"Hayashi, I've recommended you for early graduation. Your precision, control, and judgment are far beyond the level expected of Academy students."
I had simply nodded. There was no joy, no surprise. Only the confirmation of what I already knew. Still, as the cool metal of the Konoha headband pressed into my palms that morning, a quiet warmth spread through me. It wasn't pride—it was resolve.
⸻
First Meeting – Team 3
"Hayashi Arato," the Jonin said, her voice even and unshaken, "welcome to Team 3."
Her name was Kiyomi Ishida. Tall, composed, with dark hair tied neatly behind her shoulders, she carried herself with the kind of presence that made silence follow wherever she walked. She was not warm, but she wasn't cold either—just disciplined, with an aura that demanded sharpness from those under her.
"Your teammates," she gestured, "will be Rina Takeda and Daichi Morimoto. Learn their strengths. Compensate for their weaknesses. That is how you will survive."
I studied them quietly as she stepped back.
• Rina, with auburn hair tied into a loose ponytail and quick, restless hands, practically vibrated with energy. Her chakra signature burned hot—fire-natured, volatile, difficult to contain. Excitable, likely impulsive.
• Daichi, in contrast, was still as stone. Dark eyes watched me carefully, his frame strong but compact. His movements carried a deliberate precision, slow but methodical. Earth chakra radiated from him like steady pressure. Reliable, though perhaps too rigid.
Both were older than me, twelve at least. I was younger, but the headband around my forehead evened the ground. We were shinobi now, equal in rank, bound to learn trust through shared survival.
"Nice to meet you!" Rina said quickly, a little too loud, a grin flashing across her face. "I heard you graduated early. That's… wow."
I inclined my head slightly. "Graduation only means we've taken the first step."
Daichi's lips curved faintly upward. "Spoken like someone older than he looks."
Kiyomi's eyes narrowed slightly in approval. "Good. You'll need that mentality."
⸻
Mundane Beginnings
The first weeks were almost insultingly simple. "D-rank missions," Kiyomi explained, "are not about excitement. They're about discipline. If you cannot execute flawlessly when nothing is at stake, you will falter when everything is."
So we did errands: delivering groceries to old women across the village, chasing a cat that somehow escaped its leash daily, sweeping dust from storerooms.
Rina groaned nearly every time. "This isn't ninja work—it's chores!"
Daichi, sweeping with quiet patience, said, "If Sensei gave it, it has a purpose."
I agreed. "These are repetitions. Drills. The skill isn't in the task—it's in how we execute."
Rina huffed but followed through, though she often grew impatient and sloppy. Daichi worked with consistency, but his rigidity slowed him. So I guided, subtly. "Rina, count your breaths. Match your movements to them." She steadied. "Daichi, vary your rhythm. Predict the next step instead of waiting for it." His pace smoothed.
We weren't simply sweeping dust. We were learning rhythm, coordination, patience. And slowly, they noticed.
"You really do pay attention to everything, don't you?" Rina said one evening as we left a storage room, her hair dusted with cobwebs.
I gave a faint shrug. "Every detail matters. Even this."
Daichi nodded once. "That's why Sensei put you with us."
⸻
The Escort Mission
Two weeks passed before Kiyomi announced our first C-rank.
"You'll be escorting a supply caravan to the village of Mizutaki. Bandits have been reported in the area. You'll maintain formation, protect the goods, and ensure safe passage."
Rina nearly jumped from her seat. "Finally, real action!"
Daichi adjusted his headband calmly. "Bandits are still dangerous."
"Danger is the point," Kiyomi said. Her gaze settled on me. "Arato, I'll be watching how you direct your teammates. Leadership isn't assigned—it's demonstrated."
I bowed my head slightly. "Understood, Sensei."
⸻
The caravan was two wagons, heavy with supplies, drawn by oxen and guided by weary merchants. The road wound through forested ridges, shadows thickening as the trees grew taller.
At first, the journey was uneventful. Birds flitted between branches, the creak of wagon wheels and clop of hooves marking our progress. Rina walked ahead, eyes darting eagerly between trees. Daichi stayed close to the wagons, shoulders squared, steady and silent. I moved along the left flank, eyes scanning the ridgeline.
And then I felt it: faint chakra signatures. Suppressed, but sloppy. Bandits.
Three of them, positioned along the ridge above the path, waiting for the right moment.
"Hold," I whispered, dropping low behind a fallen log. Rina froze, her grin fading, while Daichi crouched beside me without a word.
"What is it?" Rina whispered.
"Bandits," I murmured. "Three. Ahead, right ridge. Their chakra is unstable, but enough to overwhelm civilians."
Rina swallowed, excitement now edged with nerves. "What do we do?"
I mapped it out quickly in my mind. The lead bandit would rush first, targeting the oxen. The second would try to flank, while the third covered from above. Predictable, sloppy. Still dangerous.
"Daichi, anchor the center. Defend the wagons. Don't let them touch the goods."
He nodded once, steady as stone.
"Rina," I said softly, "wait for my signal. Use fire, but control it. Short bursts only—don't overextend."
Her eyes widened. "Got it."
I inhaled deeply, letting chakra flow smoothly. Timing, spacing, execution.
⸻
The first bandit lunged from the ridge, blade flashing. I moved immediately, a burst of wind chakra propelling me forward. My palm struck his chest, sending him tumbling into the dirt.
The second rushed from the trees, aiming to flank. "Now, Rina!" I shouted.
She grinned fiercely, forming quick seals. "Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu!" Three small fireballs burst from her lips, arcing through the air and exploding at the bandit's feet. He stumbled, panicked, retreating under the heat.
The third bandit drew a bow, aiming down from the ridge. Before the arrow loosed, Daichi slammed his palm to the ground. "Doton: Doryūheki!" A wall of earth surged upward, blocking the shot and protecting the caravan.
I didn't hesitate. Chakra swirled into my legs as I leapt, closing the distance to the archer. My foot struck his bow aside, my hand locking around his collar. With a sharp pull, I slammed him to the ground, the fight ending in a dull thud.
Within minutes, the bandits were disarmed and bound, groaning in defeat.
⸻
Aftermath
The merchants stared wide-eyed. "You— you kids saved us."
Daichi dusted his hands calmly. "We were just doing our mission."
Rina beamed, cheeks flushed. "Did you see? My fire scared him off!"
I exhaled slowly, letting chakra settle back into its rhythm. "You both did well," I said. "Daichi, your wall stopped the caravan from taking damage. Rina, your timing was perfect."
Rina's grin grew wider at the praise, while Daichi gave a curt nod.
Kiyomi appeared from the trees, arms folded. She had been watching the entire time. "Efficient," she said simply. "Arato, your planning was precise, your timing decisive. You read the enemy well. Team 3—commendable for your first encounter."
Rina puffed out her chest, Daichi stood silently, and I bowed my head slightly. Praise was secondary. Observation, adaptation, and execution—that was the true lesson.
⸻
Evening Reflection
Back in Konoha, the lanterns glowed softly as I walked home, the forehead protector warm against my brow. The bandits were hardly a true threat, but the lesson was clear: even simple missions could turn dangerous.
On my futon that night, I replayed every detail: the bandits' sloppy chakra masking, Rina's excitement tempered into focus, Daichi's reliable defense, my own calculated strikes.
Teamwork was not instinct. It was crafted, shaped, refined. I had seen the beginnings of it today.
Staring out the window at the village below, I whispered quietly to myself, "This is only the start."
And in the distance, I could almost sense the threads of the future weaving closer—the faint stirrings of a story much larger than ours.