Chapter 5: The End of the Beginning

The aftermath of the boar incident sent a subtle ripple through the highest echelons of the village, a ripple we only felt indirectly. Iruka-sensei treated us with a new, wary respect, his eyes lingering on us during lectures as if trying to solve a complex puzzle. Our classmates, having heard Naruto's wildly embellished version of the story where I single-handedly felled a beast the size of a house with a single, god-like slash, gave us a wide berth. Even Sasuke's glares seemed to have shifted from pure competitive animosity to something more grudgingly analytical, especially towards me. He seemed to have accepted Satoru as a conceptual anomaly beyond his comprehension, but my power was something he could almost understand—skill, speed, a perfect strike. And that, it seemed, bothered him even more.

A week after the exercise, we were summoned. Not by a classroom announcement, but by a silent, cat-masked ANBU who appeared in a swirl of leaves at our apartment door just as we were about to leave for our evening training. The ANBU's voice was devoid of all emotion. "The Hokage will see you now."

The air in the hallway crackled with a sudden tension. This was it. The leadership of the village was finally taking a direct interest. Satoru, for once, didn't make a witty comment. He simply nodded, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses. We followed the ANBU, leaping across the rooftops of Konoha as dusk settled over the village. It was my first time truly moving like a shinobi, the wind whipping past my face, the tiles of the roofs a blur beneath my feet. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

The Hokage's office was exactly as I'd pictured it, yet so much more real. It was a large, circular room with towering shelves crammed with scrolls and books. The air smelled of old paper, ink, and the faint, sweet scent of pipe tobacco. And there, sitting behind the large wooden desk, was Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage. He looked older and more tired than in the anime, the lines on his face deeper, the weight of his office a tangible presence in the room. He wore his official robes and hat, a pipe in his hand, its embers glowing softly in the dim light. Two more ANBU, one with a weasel mask and one with a dog mask, stood like statues in the shadows of the room.

My heart hammered against my ribs. This was a man whose gaze could peel back layers of deception, a leader who had weathered three great wars. Lying to him would be like trying to lie to a living lie-detector.

"Musashi. Satoru," he said, his voice calm and grandfatherly, yet laced with an undeniable authority. "Thank you for coming. Iruka's report on your survival exercise was… intriguing."

He gestured for us to stand before his desk. "It spoke of exceptional teamwork, Naruto's unexpected use of a high-level jutsu, and the unfortunate encounter with an An-class wild beast. It also noted, Musashi, that you were the one to dispatch it with a single, clean strike to the neck. A feat that would be commendable for a seasoned Chunin, let alone an Academy student."

I kept my face a neutral mask, my hands clasped loosely before me. "I was lucky, Lord Hokage. It charged, and I saw an opening."

"Luck," the Hokage mused, taking a puff from his pipe and letting the smoke curl towards the ceiling. "Luck often favors the prepared. And you two," his gaze swept over both of us, "seem exceptionally prepared. You appeared in our village two months ago with no history, no records, and no clan affiliation. You claimed to be orphans from the borderlands, your village lost in the turmoil of the past. A sad, but not uncommon story."

He leaned forward, his eyes sharp and piercing. "Yet, you display skills that cannot be taught in a few short months at the Academy. Satoru, your chakra control is said to be more refined than that of most Jonin. And Musashi, your kenjutsu… the ANBU I sent to investigate the boar's carcass described the cut as something from a master's blade. So, I will ask you plainly. Who are you?"

Silence descended. The ANBU in the room seemed to melt deeper into the shadows, their killing intent a palpable, chilling pressure. This was the moment of truth.

Satoru spoke first, his tone respectful but unwavering. "We are who we say we are, Lord Hokage. Orphans of the war. Survivors." He gestured to himself. "My chakra control is the result of a kekkei genkai I was born with. It allows me to perceive and manipulate energy in a unique way. It is a gift, but also a burden I am still learning to manage."

It was the perfect half-truth. He wasn't lying; the Six Eyes was a kekkei genkai, just not from this world.

Then all eyes were on me. I took a steadying breath. "Before i met Satoru and we found our way to Konoha, i spent years wandering. i were… taken in, for a time, by a man. A ronin. He was a hard teacher, but he taught me how to use a sword. He said it was the only way I would survive."

"This ronin, did he have a name?" Hiruzen pressed gently.

"He never gave one," I replied, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. "He was just… sensei. He left me when he believed I had learned enough to protect myself. He told me to seek out one of the great hidden villages, to find a home. I chose the Leaf." I bowed my head slightly. "We are grateful for Konoha's generosity."

The Hokage stared at us for a long, agonizing minute, his eyes searching our faces. I could feel his gaze trying to pick apart our stories, trying to find the lie. But our cover, simple as it was, was impossible to disprove. War created countless orphans and displaced countless wanderers. A nameless master, a forgotten village, a unique kekkei genkai—they were all plausible enough to create reasonable doubt.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair, the tension in the room easing slightly. "I see." He didn't say if he believed us. He didn't have to. "Regardless of your past, your future is what matters now. And your future, it seems, lies with Konoha. You possess potential that far exceeds your peers. To place you on a standard three-man genin team would be… inefficient. It would be a disservice to your growth, and to the growth of your teammates."

He tapped the ash from his pipe. "The graduation exams are next week. Assuming you pass, I have a unique proposition for you. But first, you must prove you have what it takes to wear this." He gestured to the Konoha headband on his desk. "You are dismissed."

The cat-masked ANBU escorted us out. As we stood on the roof of the Hokage tower, the night air cool on our faces, I finally let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. My back was drenched in sweat.

"Well," Satoru said, adjusting his sunglasses. "That was fun. I think my heart rate might have actually climbed into the double digits."

"I think my heart tried to climb out of my throat," I countered, my legs still feeling a bit shaky. "Do you think he believed us?"

"He didn't not believe us," Satoru corrected, his expression thoughtful. "He filed us under 'Powerful, Unexplained Anomaly - To Be Watched'. Which is exactly where we want to be. We're on his radar, but we're still free agents." He looked out at the village lights. "Now all we have to do is pass the most important exam of Naruto's young life."

The final week of the Academy was thick with a nervous energy. The students were a frantic mix of last-minute cramming and boastful confidence. We continued our routine, but with a new sense of finality. These were our last days as simple students.

I found myself observing my classmates more closely. I saw Shikamaru, looking bored as ever, effortlessly answer a complex question about tactical feints that had stumped the rest of the class. I saw Hinata, watching Naruto from afar, her pale eyes full of a quiet, desperate hope. I even shared a brief, amicable conversation with Tenten about the best way to care for bladed weapons, after she saw me meticulously cleaning my katana after a training session. We were, slowly but surely, becoming part of the fabric of this world.

Then, the day of the exam arrived.

The first part was the written test. The questions covered everything from history and geography to jutsu theory and the shinobi rules. I saw Naruto practically sweating bullets, chewing on his pen and staring at the paper as if it were written in an ancient, forgotten language. Sakura, on the other hand, flew through the questions with a focused smile, her pencil a blur.

For me, it was surprisingly easy. My memories as Jack, a university student, combined with the discipline of the Musashi template, made it a simple exercise in information recall. I finished quickly and methodically. Satoru, of course, had finished in under five minutes and was now using a complex arrangement of chakra strings to make his pen float and dance above his paper, a silent, obnoxious display of mastery that earned him another venomous glare from Sasuke.

After the written portion came the practical exam. We were called one by one into a separate room where Iruka-sensei and another chunin, Mizuki, sat at a table. On the table were rows of brand-new, gleaming Konoha headbands.

The task was the one we knew was coming: The Clone Jutsu. The requirement was to create three stable, effective clones.

One by one, the students went in and came out, most of them wearing a new headband with a proud grin. Sakura, Sasuke, Shikamaru, Ino, Kiba, Choji, Shino, even Hinata—they all passed.

Then, it was Naruto's turn. He walked into the room with a look of fierce, almost painful determination. We all waited outside. A few minutes later, he walked out, his head bowed, his hands shoved in his pockets. He wasn't wearing a headband.

His face was a mask of crushing disappointment. He walked past everyone without a word, ignoring their whispers and pitying looks, and went outside. I saw him settle onto the lonely swing set under the large tree, a solitary figure against the backdrop of happy families congratulating their newly-graduated children.

My heart ached for him. I knew—I knew—this was a necessary step. I knew Mizuki was about to play his part. I knew this failure was the catalyst for Naruto learning the Shadow Clone Jutsu properly and becoming a true shinobi. But knowing it and watching it were two entirely different things. The urge to go to him, to say something, anything, was a physical weight in my chest.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Satoru. "Don't," he said quietly, his voice serious. "This part has to happen. It's his story. His trial by fire."

"I know," I whispered, my eyes still fixed on Naruto's lonely form on the swing. "It just sucks."

"Musashi!" Iruka called my name. It was my turn.

I pushed the feeling down and walked into the room. Mizuki gave me a warm, encouraging smile that seemed utterly disingenuous now that I knew his true nature.

"Alright, Musashi," Iruka said. "Show us what you've got. Three clones."

I took a breath, formed the hand signs, and poured my chakra into the jutsu. Poof! Poof! Poof! Three perfect, stable clones of me appeared, standing at attention. They didn't flicker or waver. My control had improved immensely over the past few weeks.

"Excellent! A flawless success. Congratulations, Musashi." Iruka smiled, genuinely pleased, and pushed a headband across the table. I picked it up. The metal plate was cool against my skin, the engraved leaf symbol a tangible mark of my new identity. I tied it around my forehead, the fabric crisp and new. I was a genin.

Next was Satoru. He went in, and a moment later, the door bulged slightly as if under immense pressure from the inside. Iruka came out a moment later, looking frazzled. "He passed," was all he said. Satoru followed, nonchalantly tying his own headband over his sunglasses. He'd probably filled the entire room with clones just to make a point.

As the sun began to set, the academy grounds cleared out. Satoru and I stood in the growing shadows, watching from a distance as Mizuki approached Naruto on the swing. We couldn't hear their words, but we knew the script. The fake comfort, the insidious offer, the lie about a secret makeup exam.

"He's planting the seed," Satoru murmured, his gaze fixed on the scene. The Six Eyes could probably see the faint, deceptive flicker in Mizuki's chakra. "Naruto's going to go for the Forbidden Scroll."

"And we're just going to let him?" I asked, the question tasting like guilt.

"We have to. This is where he proves himself to Iruka. This is where he learns the jutsu that will define him. Interfering now would rob him of his own victory," Satoru stated, his logic cold but correct. "Our role isn't to solve his problems for him. It's to be strong enough to help when he faces problems the plot can't solve."

We watched them part ways, Naruto running off with a renewed, misguided hope. My fists were clenched at my sides. This passive role was harder than any training.

Just as we were about to turn and leave, a presence dropped behind us. We both spun around instantly, me reaching for my sword, Satoru's hand raised slightly. It was the weasel-masked ANBU from the Hokage's office.

"The Hokage wishes to follow up on his proposition," the ANBU stated.

We were once again led through the village to the Hokage Tower. When we entered the office, Hiruzen was standing by the window, looking out at the village. The room was empty save for him.

"Congratulations on your graduation," he said, turning to face us. "Your performance was, as expected, exemplary." He picked up two files from his desk. Our files. They were distressingly thin. "I have given your situation a great deal of thought. Your skills are unique, specialized. Placing you with a standard Jonin-sensei and two other genin would be a waste."

He looked us in the eye, his expression unyielding. "Therefore, I am making an unprecedented decision. I will not be assigning you to a standard four-man cell. Instead, I am classifying you as a two-person special purpose team. Team 'Ronin', for now, seems appropriate."

I blinked. A two-person team?

"You will not have a dedicated Jonin-sensei in the traditional sense," he continued. "Instead, you will answer directly to me. I will assign you missions suited to your particular talents—reconnaissance, tracking, and, when you are ready, asset protection and elimination. You will be given access to advanced training resources, but your development will be largely self-directed. It is a path with great freedom, but also great responsibility."

It was the perfect solution. It kept us out of the standard plotline of Team 7, gave us the freedom to train as we saw fit, and placed us in a position where we could be deployed to crises as needed. The Hokage thought he was putting two powerful but unpredictable assets on a tight leash under his direct control. In reality, he was giving us exactly what we needed to pursue our own agenda.

"We accept, Lord Hokage," Satoru said immediately, speaking for both of us.

"We are honored," I added, bowing my head.

"Good." A rare, small smile touched Hiruzen's lips. "Your first official directive is simple: go home, rest, and be ready. Your life as shinobi of Konoha begins tomorrow."

As we left the tower and stood once more on the rooftops, the cool night air felt different. It was charged with possibility. In the distance, we could hear a commotion from the direction of the forest. Shouts, the clash of steel, the roar of a powerful jutsu.

Naruto's fight had begun.

He was having his trial by fire, earning his headband the hard way. And we had just passed our own trial, earning our place not just as shinobi, but as something new, something different. We had our headbands, our freedom, and a direct line to the most powerful man in the village.

The game had changed. And we were finally, truly, ready to play.