Chapter 2


A short time later, the three Kusanin were positioned outside of Konohagakure's ninja academy, peering out over practice fields full of students at all stages of development. Crouched in a heavy fringe of brush, Shouda concentrated on his search with no small degree of mystification.

He hadn't known what to make of the Godaime's cryptic remark that they might have difficulty picking out the legendary sensei, but he hadn't taken it seriously. It had seemed obvious to him that a figure of such importance would be like a beacon among his fellows. Yet, so far, this had not proved to be so.

If his senses served him correctly, there were fewer than three adults on the entire premises that could have even hoped to pass for jounin – that is, if one didn't include the ANBU discretely but not secretly following them. The teachers were all young, and nothing particularly special. He ticked off prospects with growing frustration – no, no, no.

Iruka. Umino Iruka. Shouda pondered the appellation the Hokage had disclosed. It was an unusual name for a Leaf nin, but for some reason it sounded oddly familiar. Had he heard that name before, he wondered. If so, where?

His eyes brushed the field once more, gaze lingering over one of the youngest groups – practically toddlers. One of the students was even holding onto her sensei's hand, and – ah! Shouda's mouth crept open with astonishment. No, it couldn't be.

"Sir?" His men shifted beside him, obviously sensing his unease.

Feeling their hackles rise, Shouda gestured for calm. "No. It's just that…I believe that's him."

"Where?" asked Ri-Tou, grunting horse-like as he inched forward. He was broad-shouldered, gruff with his beard and tone. He looked out keenly over the practice fiends with eyes that wavered uncertainly over the instructors, but he obviously didn't see what Shouda had.

The Kusanin captain pointed at the one he suspected. "There."

Ri-Tou blinked. "Heigen's reed. Him? Are you sure?"

Shouda was studying their quarry intensely, fine webs springing up around his dark eyes. "Increasingly less uncertain," he responded. "But I intend to find out for sure."

"Should we go back?" his other subordinate asked, and his captain nodded assent.

"Yes, this may be time well spent doing some preliminary research."

He waited until they had vanished into the grass like the Kusanin they were before returning to his observation to wait for an opportunity to approach. All the while, certainty began growing in him parallel to the grin curling on his face. Oh the irony, he thought. Suddenly the Hokage's outburst seemed much more funny.


The day's instruction seemed to be essentially a game of hide and seek. In groups of three, the children broke away into the practice field and the trees that surrounded it, concealing themselves as best they could with their fledgling talents. The bolder cells ventured after their classmates, and it was one such group that Shouda followed into a patch of wood concealed from direct view of the supervising adults.

He planned to judge this parcel of Konoha's seed. The reports had been scattered, inconsistent; he wanted to see for himself what was so unique about these young people.

Moving like a cat, he silently approached the oblivious students. They were strangely quiet, standing with their chins in the air as though judging their surroundings. A curly headed boy in a blue jacket stood slightly apart, and the Kusanin inclined his head toward him. 'Gently, little one,' he broadcasted. 'I don't intend to hurt you.'

Gathering himself in a crouch, he broke cover and lunged. The two children in front leapt from him like startled rabbits, but the one he'd chosen only had time for a squeak of fear before the captain descended. Yet even as Shouda felt the tickle of soft hair under his chin, he sensed something was amiss.

The boy exploded. Disoriented, Shouda looked through the yellow tendrils of dissipating smoke to the tree branch he now cradled instead. He had enough time to think, 'Replacement jutsu' before an infant war cry startled him and he felt his feet leave the ground. He hit the dirt hard on his backside, feeling the burn as the pebbles and packed earth scrapped through his clothing.

The ambassador blinked, stunned. What –?

"Excuse me," said a voice.

Shouda looked up, unsurprised to see a familiar face. Yet the gentle-eyed man who he'd met at the gate was gone. Looming aggressively, just outside his effective fighting range, a narrow-eyed, pony-tailed shinobi stood with arms superimposed across his chest. And while he seemed calm enough, the indignation he harbored just below the surface was keenly obvious.

Again, the captain noticed the pale slash across the teacher's face, setting him apart in one's memory. Three little faces peered around him, unafraid now with their sensei present, but still cautious and on guard. Such young faces. Shouda smiled, deeply around his scars.

The bridge between the teacher's brow furrowed at this show of amusement, and he spoke again. It wasn't a loud voice, but the authority it commanded was unmistakable nonetheless. "What are you doing here, and why did you attack my children?" he asked. Brown eyes, so dark they were almost charcoal, flashed in a way that demanded explanation.

With the ease of a warrior-athlete, Shouda uncurled from his sprawl on the ground and approached the unflinching sensei. He extended the branch that moments ago had been a squirming little body. "Just a small test," he told the young man. "I never intended any harm. Imagine my surprise when I was the one who ended up on the ground."

Iruka favored the children with a look of approval, distilling their last bit of nervousness and making them beam. Fear became curiosity now that he had given them his "identity." Apparently, they'd been given tests before.

Iruka-sensei did not seem so appeased. "Back to your lessons, all of you," he commanded them with that same voice of quiet authority. "Now."

The children fled, darting back to their groups and leaving Shouda with the teacher, who seemed to be awaiting answers. The ambassador supplied them gladly; his backside was still stinging in a way that reminded him of how impressed he was.

He tossed the branch, which Iruka deigned to catch, though his expression remained unchanged. Shouda nodded toward the wood. "I would have sworn that was a child," he said. "Others their age might have panicked or cried even if they knew I was there, yet these wordlessly coordinated without my even realizing." He rubbed at the soreness of his ribs with one hand. "And they hit hard for such little children."

Iruka's serious eyes looked at him hard, but a flickering of pride for his students was present in their depths. "They learn very quickly what to do when they're grabbed," he said. "You were fortunate; Kyouya recognized you from yesterday or he might have been less subtle. He has an uncanny ability with the lightning elementals."

Shouda blinked slowly, taken aback. He was even more startled when Iruka actually smirked, showing some humor of his own. 'He's been in my head' the visitor realized. 'And he's decided I'm not an enemy.''

This was no normal grade-school teacher.

The ambassador lowered his chin. "Everything about this village astonishes me. Others have said your shinobi are weak minded, soft. And your village has been open – unusually so. But then, I have just been dispatched by toddlers. Perhaps it accounts for Konoha's ease?"

The teacher sobered. "We are not a village that loves war or enjoys cruelty and killing," he said. "But we aren't stupid. Konoha learned long ago that wars come whether or not we are ready." He titled his head. "We also know our neighbors. My students are taught to respect life, but they also know how to kill. You're lucky they didn't feel threatened, or your underestimation of them might have caused an accident."

Shouda agreed. Underestimation killed more shinobi than skill. But still: "They are just little children."

Iruka only stared at him noncommittally. Finally, he said, "So, 'Ambassador.' You never told me your business here."

The captain's smile returned. "I was sent to discover the true strength of Konohagakure and to observe its training methods and students. Some impressive shinobi are beginning to appear from Konoha, and other Hidden Villages have taken notice." He paused. "I was also sent to discover more about the master teacher who trained these new soldiers. Said illusive sensei is rumored to be a secret champion of Konoha, a warrior of fantastic power and strength with secret skills from other countries. Twelve feet tall, fangs, red eyes – the full legendary ideal. And yet no one has ever seen this teacher, though your Hokage assured me he exists, if not exactly in the form I described. Apparently there are no twelve foot men in Konoha."

Iruka shifted, but said nothing.

"What do you say to that, Iruka-sensei?" The Kusanin barked a short laugh. "What do you say, oh legendary sensei of Konohagakure?"

Iruka did not look amused. "I think it's an entertaining prank," he answered. "But I still expect an honest answer."

Shouda's face transformed, as though the punch line of a masterful joke had been missed. Yet as the sober-eyed teacher stood in front of him – shorter by almost a hand, young, physically underwhelming, and so not what he might have considered a secret warrior – and the captain wondered if the secret had been kept even from Iruka.

With rare gentleness, he clarified, "You've misunderstood me. I meant what I said about my errand. I was sent to observe the Konoha sensei, a man of ambiguous legend. The joke isn't why I came, the joke is that the one I came looking for is you."

Iruka seemed to be beginning to understand, but the humor stamped on his features was dark instead of genuine. "I'm no legend, or even much account among my own people," he said firmly. "I am a chuunin, surpassed now by many of my students. I am a teacher, but there are many teachers. If you wish to find the ones responsible for our newest chuunin then you should look for the jounin who trained them. I'm sure the Hokage will summon them for you. They are the warriors of legend you want."

A well kept secret, then. There was no lie in Iruka's eyes. The Konoha legend who molded great human weapons was a weapon himself. "You surprise me, Sensei," Shouda said.

The familiarity of the address made the teacher's eyebrow twitch. It seemed obvious he had lost all patience with this meeting. "I think you should leave." Somehow he made the harsh words seem more like a suggestion rather than the command they obviously were. It made Shouda come to attention. It made it easy to obey.

A bewildering person, this Iruka-sensei. The two of them were going to have to get to know one another much better.

"I'm going to see you later," the captain decided, even as he turned to leave the way he came. He waved over one shoulder, "Goodbye, Sensei, and have a good day."

"Have a fatal accident," the teacher called back, and then he returned to his children.


While their leader spoke to Iruka, the other Kusanin sought information. Feeling that the missions desk was as good a place as any to begin, the bearded visitor Ri-Tou entered the paneled room as unobtrusively as a strange shinobi among ninja could. Predictably, a dead hush fell over the gathering as he entered, and the man tugged self-consciously on his flecked uniform.

If only he had any skill at disarming smiles. Though he had the feeling that this set of rigid stares would not have been charmed by anything short of genjutsu.

Clearing his throat, Ri-Tou stepped up the an open desk worker. "Ah, hello," he began, rather awkwardly. He pulled out his paper of free passage, hoping it would lower some of the raised hairs he could practically see bristling over the chuunin seated before him. In fact, the whole room with its patchwork of milling shinobi had assumed tense, ready postures. Peripherally, he saw one fingering a narrow projectile at her waist.

Attempting to ignore the peril to his life, the Kusanin politely requested, "I've come to see the records of a shinobi named Umino Iruka. Could you help me?"

The falsely pleasant expression the worker had been wearing widened into a petrified smile, so stiff that Ri-Tou had to force himself not to flinch. He'd never seen such a threatening expression. Skin tingling, he realized that an even more absolute quiet had fallen. He peered over his shoulder. Every eye in the room was on him, intensely unfriendly.

"Ah," he coughed.

"I'm sorry," the man who'd been waiting on him spoke now, still showing his teeth. "That information cannot be released to visitors." – 'You filthy piece of pungent horse dung,' Ri-Tou practically heard him finish.

The room shifted, echoing this sentiment without words. Completely disconcerted, the Kusanin involuntarily retreated a step. "I see," he said, a trickle of sweat beading his face. "Well, thank you then."

He beat a hasty retreat after that, the combined weight of Konoha's polite antagonism beating down on his back. The open air had never been so welcome. "Damn," he muttered, wiping his brow with the handkerchief tied over his wrist. They were going to have to be more subtle after all.


In another part of the village, the third Grass companion was facing a different obstacle. The civilian sector had seemed a natural place to start seeking general impressions, both because rumor and fame were always so strongly resonate there and because access to that information was much more easily accessible.

Yet, as the Kusanin looked down upon the hunched old woman, he felt a sinking doubt. Sure, she had halted as he requested. But, though obviously nervous, she did not seem intimidated. Pressing her thin, pale lips together, she creaked, "Iruka?"

"Yes," the shinobi repeated, pressing his longish brown hair from his eyes. "I'm a visitor, and I heard he was a special teacher. Can you tell me anything about him?"

Narrowed, suspicious eyes watered at him. The matron answered shortly, "He's special, alright. Generous, respectful. He's done a great deal for the civilian community of this village." A deep unhappiness had sunk into her voice, and her prominent knuckles tightened around her walking stick as though she intended to hit him with it. "Why are you asking questions about our Iruka-sensei?"

The shinobi balked, surprised by the intensity of the threat in her voice. "I-I," he began, but the grandma was having none of it. She brandished her cane at him, and her growing agitation was attracting attention. Several shop keepers and their patrons had stepped out from under the bright awnings of nearby stalls, and a few stepped towards them now with stormy lines drawn down their faces.

The Kusanin backed off compulsively, aware that causing trouble here was not an option. He left, puzzled, wondering how it was that he – a ninja of obvious rank – had just been fearlessly run off by a granny and a pack of citizens with sacks of rice.


Next Chapter: Shouda is an extremely unwelcome guest in Iruka's home.