Awareness returned to me long before I opened my eyes. There was a splitting headache behind my brow, and the air felt thick in my throat.

"Don't bother," I heard a voice say. "I can see the pulse in your neck quicken. I know you're awake."

Fuck. Jonin were scary.

I opened my eyes, wincing as the bright sun overhead seared my retinas, and glared at the imposter. He had ditched his Iwa shinobi disguise, and though he still didn't wear a headband or an official uniform, his clothes were reminiscent of what a shinobi from Konoha would wear.

"That was a lie, by the way," he said, smirking at my hostility. "People's pulses quicken in their sleep all frequently. However, I did expect you to wake up around this time."

He crouched down in front of me, and I suddenly realized I had been taken somewhere new, likely far away from the field of grass I was last conscious in. I bet all the progress I made in escaping to a friendly nation was undone. And I had no idea where I was now. I didn't even have the stars to orient myself.

"The little chase you gave me was amusing," he said. "Especially the part where you thought that you, a runt not even hip height, actually escaped from me. But every joke gets old. I only humored it for as long as I did because I got word that Takigakure intercepted a force from Iwa at the border. I heard they received an anonymous tip of an attempted invasion. How scandalous."

I clenched my fists, and imagined putting them through his skull.

"Of course, it also gave the soldier pill time to run its course, and to ruin your internals," he added, and I could feel the truth in his words. I tried to send a submarine through my coils, and it dissipated before it could reach the next tenketsu over. I still had a puddle left in the tank—maybe a single d-rank's worth, or thirty seconds of chakra enhancement. Less if I really turned up the heat.

"What do you even want with me anyway?" I spat. "I'm nobody. Not even a genin."

"I suppose that's the real question, isn't it?" he mused. "The answer is…well, I don't know. Frankly, I don't care either. I was just told to retrieve you. You'll have to wait to hear about that until after we reach the village."

"You're a jonin," I said darkly. "They would have told you."

"They might have, but I didn't ask. I don't concern myself with boring stuff, like the whys. I just do my job."

The jonin had been thorough. Not only was my kunai pouch gone, but my bandages were completely unwrapped and missing, along with all the inventory ports and other seals littering their insides. My clothes, I could tell from the visible seams, were all turned inside out, which meant that they must have been removed and searched. My sandals were also gone (along with the inventory ports hidden inside them) so even if I could escape, I would be slower and easier to track. Even my hair was down, the rolled up exploding tag I kept hidden in its bun missing. And naturally, my hands were tied behind my back with thick, unyielding rope. I was completely and utterly defenseless.

"I do need one thing from you, though, before we go any further," he said.

"Like hell I'm doing anything else for you," I snarled.

"Do it, or I'll kill the kid," he said casually, eyes flicking to Sho, who was lying prone with his arms tied behind his back. Though he was awake, chin resting on the ground and looking up at me with wide, helpless eyes.

I scoffed. "Kill him. You'd be doing me a favor. As you well know."

He hummed. "It took you long enough to notice. Alright, show's over. No point in lying around."

"Sho" lost the helpless look in his eye and, in a single attempt, snapped the ropes holding him in place. As he pushed himself upright, there was a puff of smoke, and his features changed completely. The man that replaced him was shorter than the other jonin, and far younger. He had red hair, freckles, and wore baggy sleeves longer than his arms.

"How'd you figure it out?' he wondered, face more expressionless than his compatriot.

"Uh, how about the fucking poisoned egg?" I answered. The spice covered up the taste of the poison perfectly, which was a trick that probably served any specialist well. I only figured out what was wrong when I started to feel its effects, by which time it was far too late.

"Where's the real Sho?" I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"Well, unless they fished him out already, floating face down in the river. Just like Kudo Seiji."

"They were just kids," I snarled, feeling sick to my stomach.

"Oh, please," the older one scoffed. "They were Iwa shinobi."

And that was all that fucking mattered in this world. These adults wouldn't lose a wink of sleep after killing two eleven-year-olds.

"Let's get on with this," the younger one said. "I'm already sick of this mission."

"I was thinking the same thing." The other imposter tossed me a pencil underhand, which landed softly on the dirt. "I need a handwriting sample. I'll be comparing it to a piece of your writing here, and let me tell you. You really want your handwriting to be a match."

"What are you going to do if I don't cooperate? Kill me?" I laughed bitterly. Been there, done that. "Do it. I'm already sick of this life."

His smile wasn't kind in the least. "No. After all the trouble you've given us, no matter what you do, you'll live to see the consequences. But I assure you, there are far worse things than death."

He crouched in front of me. "I'll tell you what, though. If you're cooperative and don't put up a fuss, I'll let you see what I'm comparing it to. That might give you a hint as to why all this is happening."

I pursed my lips. I really wanted to know, and not just out of curiosity. That kind of knowledge might affect how I conducted myself, and alter the choices I made. Both for self-preservation and national security.

"Read the sentence to me, and I'll write if it's complete," I countered, so he wouldn't try and give me random words that I wouldn't be able to find meaning in. "Otherwise, I'm not doing it."

"Fine," he agreed, and began to feed me a sentence word by word, pausing after each one to make sure I wrote it down correctly. I considered altering the form of my handwriting, but I didn't think it would do any good. Even if the jonin couldn't tell I was faking it, he promised retribution if it wasn't a match anyway. And while torture was likely inevitable, I'd stave it off as long as possible to maximize my chances of escape, no matter how slim they already were.

Proportions of elemental natures present in one's chakra form a key aspect of one's chakra identity, referred to as a signature. Though that is likely not all—

The words were incredibly familiar, but it took me a second to recall why. Then I realized—the sentence was pulled from the research I submitted on elemental affinities, all those years ago. I had almost completely forgotten about that, because it seemed so inconsequential compared to everything else I was working on at the time. I only even bothered to write up the report to get Yoshiro-sensei off my back!

This was why two jonin infiltrated my genin exam to kidnap me?

I had stopped writing, my brain feeling like it was on fire.

"You recognize it, I see," the jonin said, taking my paper from me. "Well, that's good enough. I've seen all I need to see. It's a match, of course. We were quite thorough in our research. But still, it's nice to have confirmation."

I barely hear him, frantically trying to recall the contents of the thesis I had submitted to R&D (there must have been a spy planted in the department). My paper spoke more in depth about elemental proportions, and how they were a component of chakra signatures. It also spoke to my experience, and mentioned that I had been able to standardize a measurement of chakra. That in turn allowed me to quantify the elemental proportions within my own chakra.

…the process of which I heavily glossed over. This was back when I was obsessed with keeping the extent of my abilities a secret, too scared that I'd draw the attention of someone who'd throw me in R&D.

I was right. It did catch the wrong sort of attention, but the reality was far worse than I could have possibly imagined. And it was my secretiveness, once again, that led to the worst case scenario. After all, if I had been completely transparent about the process, then they wouldn't have needed to abduct me.

Fuck. Holy shit fucking damnit.

Looking at the broad picture, through the lens of what I've learned since writing this paper, I could even see how valuable the information might be. Elemental proportions were a significant part of the equation. Knowing how to measure them would be a great first step into replicating chakra signatures, which could have some significant applications. Especially in the fields of fuinjutsu and subterfuge.

It definitely wasn't an ability I wanted in enemy hands.

"I know what your superiors want from me," I stated.

"Good for you."

I ignored him. "I can't give them what they want. It's impossible. I only have that ability because of a unique skill. It's not even a bloodline, so I wouldn't be able to pass it down."

"So, what? Are you saying we should just kill you here and now?" he asked, amused.

"You may as well," I said. "Like I said, it can't be taught or learned."

"That decision isn't up to us," the younger redhead said. "Our mission was to bring you back to Konoha. And we'll do just that."

"Besides, you shouldn't underestimate our research team," the other said mildly. "They have a way of getting results. I even hear that Orochimaru-sama himself has taken interest in this project."

Oh, fuuucckkk that.

I didn't have any weapons, or much chakra. But I had a little, and I had my talent. My elemental affinity knowledge got me into this mess, and it was going to get me out.

Reaching deep into my very being, my chakra identity, I found Doton. There was always potential there, potential that I saw but made the choice not to utilize. Yoshiro-sensei had warned me against it, and Kazuhiro made me promise not to try. But I knew that, to me, it would be so easy.

And the reason it was so dangerous was the very same reason I needed it now. Nature transformation changed organic matter on a molecular level. By transforming your chakra, you became capable of using much more powerful elemental jutsu, much more readily. You could even channel the element without using hand seals.

Pumping yourself full of Doton chakra could threaten to turn your body into stone. Pumping another object, conditionally, could do the same. The effects weren't dramatic, but they were enough.

I could feel each fiber of the rope succumb to my influence. One by one, each hair lost its flexibility, cracking as I put pressure upon it. Slowly, agonizingly, quietly, my bonds began to crumble away as my captors, content with what they got out of me, talked quietly among themselves. Plotting their course. Reveling in their victory, as if they weren't about to return empty handed.

Then, my hands were free. I hunched over, obscuring them to the best of my ability.

My legs weren't bound for a reason—there was no way I could outrun the jonin. That was never an option. So there was only one way for me to get out of this. A jutsu I never thought I'd use.

Ushi. Ne. I. Uma. Ne. Tora.

The younger of my captors must have seen my movement. His eyes widened, and he called out, taking a violent step towards me.

Hitsuji. Ushi. Saru.

The elder threw a kunai at blinding speed, hilt first and aimed at my temple. It was too fast to dodge, but I didn't need to. It was a millisecond too late.

U.

So long, Naruto-verse. It's been real.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

It wasn't too long ago that I learned the last of the Basic Five academy jutsu. The academy heads, understandably, wanted to wait until we were at our most mature to give us instruction on the matter.

Not that ten to eleven-years-old could ever constitute as mature, but I suppose it was better than anything younger. I had to admit, I felt nervous just sitting in on this class. When Hanabi first mentioned it, I thought she was fucking with me.

"Good morning," Yoshiro-sensei greeted us solemnly, the gravity of what he was about to teach us not lost on him. The class, likewise, was dead silent, and vastly uncomfortable.

"Today, you learn the final ninjutsu that you will be required to know upon graduation," he announced unnecessarily. "You will be expected to master the hand signs, but let me be clear. You will never power them. Not in partiality, and never in full."

He didn't have to tell us that. Just as he didn't have to tell us not to slash our arteries with kunai, or to swallow exploding tags. Reckless behavior was one thing, and a few of my classmates were prone to it. But this was something else entirely.

"For the majority of this class, throughout this semester, we will be discussing the appropriate times to cast this jutsu," he said, and I marveled at the absurdity of the statement, and at the savagery of this world. Where I came from, teachers bent over backwards to keep this kind of thing from happening. Here, we were being taught how to do it most effectively in class.

"Under some conditions, it will be necessary. I pray to kami that none of you will find yourselves in them."

At least he offered us that small kindness.

He wrote down the hand signs on the chalkboard, and each scrape of his instrument left shivers down my spine.

"Here it is. Ninpo: Shōshin Jisatsu no Jutsu."

Translation: Ninja Art—Self-Immolation Technique.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

- { ワナビー } -

{ ワナビー }

ワナビー

ワナ

ビー

…

I couldn't remember what my first death felt like. The drowning part, well, that I could recall perfectly. The numbing cold that made my skin feel like it was vibrating, thrumming with each panicked heartbeat. The weight of the seawater around me, crushing me from every direction—we had attempted to surface the moment our systems started to fail, though we only got far enough that we didn't splatter the moment my submarine's pressure hull was pierced. The deep-seated ache in my lungs, as they filled with something that they were never meant to take in. The feebleness of my breast-stroke. The lighted water above me, far out of reach.

But after that? Nothing. I had no memories of hell, heaven or purgatory. There was no cosmic force to convene with. I blinked, and suddenly I was a baby. Though I didn't realize that immediately. It took a month of blurry images, of thoughtless urges, for me to gain cognisance in this new world.

And the moment I did? I was alone in a burning village, next to my mother's singed corpse.

Compare that to my second death.

I expected the suicide jutsu to be painful. I mean, self-immolation? My vital organs burning away, not with fire but with pure chakra, turning against its creator? Especially for me—I had a greater awareness of my own chakra than anyone else I had ever met in my short decade in the Elemental Nations. I expected to feel something truly horrific.

I certainly wasn't disappointed that I didn't. There was no sensation at all.

But my consciousness hadn't disintegrated. My soul hadn't been taken to the pure world. I could tell that much.

Was I being reborn once again?

…

ビー

ワナ

ワナビー

{ ワナビー }

- { ワナビー } -

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

Awareness returned to me, and a strangled scream left my throat before my eyes could even open. It felt like I had awakened from one of those dreams in which I was falling.

My hands scrabbled at the wooden corners of something in front of me as my vision focussed. I wasn't in a baby's body—it was the one I had grown accustomed to all these years. And I wasn't in some strange place. I was in…shit, the academy?

"Peace, kid," a familiar, hated voice said, and I whirled around, standing and kicking the restrictive desk away from me with a clatter to give me space. I fell into a defensive position, teeth bared at the jonin that abducted me.

"Why?" I panicked. "Why am I still alive?"

I ran through the hand seals again, pulsing my chakra in time to complete the jutsu. Nothing happened.

"You're missing a hand seal," the jonin said, the infuriating derision absent from his voice.

"I did it exactly as sensei taught me," I said, utterly off balance. I was still devoid of my weapons.

"Exactly. Your sensei taught you the majority of the jutsu, but with a hand seal missing. This was intentional, as the Self-Immolation technique always plays a role in the final exam. For those who score high enough going into the survival portion, at least."

"Exam?" I repeated, having forgotten what was happening when I was abducted in the first place. Then I remembered. "EXAM?"

I looked around wildly, seeing no traps, no additional enemies. Just a standard classroom, set as normal. Aside from the desk I had hurled to the side. Searching my reserves, which were much more full than they had been when I was last awake, I could find no trace of genjutsu.

"You can't seriously expect me to believe all that was a test," I exploded.

"We did a pretty convincing job, did we not?" Slowly, he reached into his flack vest—he was wearing the typical Iwagakure jonin garb now—and pulled out an identification card.

Ryuguji Hanta. Identification Code: 49752849-7257

There was the correct number of digits for the identification, given his supposed station. The indented code below it was correct, as was the coloring. The picture matched as well, although it was clearly taken when he was slightly younger.

"It's fake," I said, though not because I saw anything to indicate it as such. Because it had to be. The alternative was inconceivable.

"It's not," a much more familiar voice said from behind me, out of a puff of smoke. There were suddenly two more people in the room. One was a person who looked just like Isobe Motoharu. He had his hand clasped around the shoulder of someone who looked identical to Yoshiro-sensei.

"Ryuguji-san is a respected member of the jonin forces of Iwagakure, who has been tasked with taking the role of proctor for your survival exam. Every action he took was in accordance with his station."

"I don't believe you," I stammered. "Prove it. Prove you're really sensei, and that this was all part of the test."

He hummed. "The very first day we met, Imai-san, I rebuked you for abandoning your classmates and slinking off to find your homeroom alone. You crawled through the window like a chipmunk after a forage, and when I asked you why you weren't entering though the door like a normal person, you said, and I quote, what kind of shinobi enters through the door? I hope you realize now how ridiculous that was to hear from the mouth of a four-year-old. That was the moment I knew you'd be my most troublesome student. A notion that you only continued to reinforce over the years."

My ears burned for many, many reasons. Just as they did back then. Those words haunted me enough to recognize them six years later. And there was no one to witness them aside from Yoshiro-sensei.

"This was all part of the exam?" I repeated, unable to draw myself out of my defensive stance. "The whole thing about the abduction, about my research into elemental proportions and how they relate to chakra signatures?"

"There has actually been some research over the years into discovering the other half of the equation, as you put it," the jonin, Ryuguji, said. "And perhaps, one day, you might be included in it. But, of course, we have no need to abduct you in order to utilize your insight and talents."

"What about Sho, Nobu and Seiji?" I shot back.

"All safe," Yoshiro-sensei said. "They were pulled from the final portion after you left them behind, after which they underwent a more traditional test. They were no longer in consideration for a jonin sensei, so there was no need for anything quite so rigorous. You can see them later today, if you wish."

"So everyone was in on it? All those pursuing shinobi? Kazuhiro?" I clarified.

"Precisely," Ryuguji answered smoothly.

"And you really took me past the border of Waterfall?" I pressed. "An enemy nation? Just for a test?"

"No, actually." Yoshiro-sensei said. "You were in Grass the whole time. We just made it appear as if you were in Waterfall, en route to Konoha."

"But the town!" I protested. "With the Waterfall architecture! And the farm we ran through with the shitty rice paddies slopped on the far side of the river!"

"So you did notice them," Ryuguji noted, approval in his voice. "Yes, those were props locations we created to test your observation skills, and your ability to practically apply said skills. The town was simply a facade—if you approached it from any other angle, you would have seen that. The farm was preexisting but, with permission, we added on the rice paddies to the unused far side of the river."

"But," fucking, "WHY?" I exploded. "What was the point of this test?" The ending of it, at least—I could understand everything that went into it along the way. "To see if I'd kill myself if I was captured by enemies?"

"This wasn't a test where there was only a single correct course of action," Yoshiro-sensei said. "Its purpose was merely to put you in an impossible scenario. To see how you would conduct yourself when your back was to the wall, and there was no possible victory. Only in those situations will a person's true colors be revealed. You showed us your true colors, Imai, and we did not find you lacking."

Such praise, as monotone as it was, didn't fall from sensei's lips often. Still, the words felt hollow.

"But this segment was not merely a test," he continued after allowing his words to sink in. "It was also your final lesson in the academy. Tell us, what did you learn?"

I was really tempted to blow up again. To say something that would make me look bad, something along the lines of not to trust my comrades. But on the chance that this actually was real, I reluctantly decided not to self-sabotage.

"That being intelligent has consequences," I said, earning a slight nod of approval.

"Precisely. You should never hesitate to submit discoveries to R that division is under such heavy protection that malefactors would have an easier time infiltrating the Tsuchikage's Palace itself. The people there can decide how and when to disseminate the information you submit, and to whom. But anyone else…you must be wary."

"You have already gained a reputation," Ryuguji revealed. "People know what you're capable of. They know that, if they spend enough time around you, they could become privy to whatever developments you make. And that they might benefit from them."

The goose with the golden egg. And it had already happened, too. First with Gari, and then the Hirose family.

"Currently, only allies are aware of your potential," Yoshiro-sensei chimed in. "But I know you, Imai Kasaiki. You will attempt to rise to the upper ranks. Anything else would be unacceptable. And with notoriety, enemies will begin to take interest. Unless you choose not to demonstrate your abilities at all, to the detriment of Iwa, the world will learn what you are capable of. You must be discrete. You must be careful about who you trust, and what you trust them with. About what skills you use in enemy territory, when you use them, and who is around to witness. Do you understand?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I felt a lump in my throat.

"Good," Ryuguji said. "Now, let us return to the original subject. Your exam, and your actions during it. Tell me, what else led you to realize I was a supposed imposter?"

"Your lack of footprints," I said, my mind TV static. "Along with the skill you displayed against my brother. The direction we were heading in, based on the stars. That we lost all of my teammates, and you didn't seem to care. That you continued to rush us, even after we escaped our pursuers at the river. Then there were all the things you never asked us to do, that I expected to be tested on in this portion. Like hunting and foraging. In addition, you seemed more willing to perform acts on our behalf than I thought a proctor should in this exam. Defending us in the pursuit, and carrying my teammates. Then you offered to keep my indecision a secret from the proctors." I hesitated. "Did that count against me?"

"No, not since you weren't given clarification on whose orders take precedent in the context of the exam," Yoshiro-sensei explained. "You could have chosen to heed Asano-san's orders and not follow Ryuguji-san, and you would not have been penalized either. The course of the exam would have changed, naturally, but you would have eventually ended up in the exact same position. Was there anything else?"

"...nothing concrete. But the situation I found myself in was far from how I expected the exam to play out. It was a gut feeling."

"Gut feelings are important nonetheless," said the other jonin, who I guessed, from the dynamic between the two, outranked Yoshiro-sensei somehow. Outside of the confines of the exam, in any case—the sensei of Batch Sixty-Seven was still head proctor.

"There was one detail that we presented which you seem to have missed," he revealed. "The Gin-gawa river flows from Waterfall, running west before curving south. Once caught in it, you could have realized that the current would bring you towards Grass, and you could use that knowledge to orient yourself. That would have allowed you to realize earlier that you were headed in the direction of Waterfall. Though I subtly altered our path to bring us back towards our allied nation over the course of the day, before reinstating our initial course by nightfall so that the stars would corroborate our ruse."

I barely even registered the critique. My heartbeat was finally beginning to slow, and I took a look at my internals, still in disbelief. For the third time, I confirmed I wasn't in a genjutsu. Unless it was so powerful that it blocked my internal chakra sense. Not even Hirose Akikazu was capable of that. But if I was taken to Konoha, an Uchiha might be able to…however, I had clearly undergone treatment. My chakra canals, which almost felt rotten after the soldier pill had run its course, were mostly repaired, and so was my Gate of View, which had also seen damage. I channeled chakra, and felt it pour from my skin. But sensations could be faked.

I had no idea what was real anymore.

"You don't believe this was a test, still," Ryuguji observed. "Your batchmates were far easier to convince, despite everything."

"My batchmates don't know what genjutsu is truly capable of," I snapped, an image of a sharingan superimposed over a moon clear in my mind's eye.

Admittedly, an illusion that powerful, as far as I know, could only be cast by someone with the Mangekyō Sharingan. Itachi & Shisui weren't born yet, neither was Obito (I think, perhaps he was a newborn), and Madara had long since abandoned Konoha. But canon hadn't explored this era. Maybe there was an Uchiha currently alive and loyal to the village with this ability.

"What will convince you?" he asked as Yoshiro-sensei observed me.

There was nothing.

"Time, I suppose," I said. I would be actively looking for discrepancies in the interim.

"Obstinate girl," Yoshiro-sensei muttered, though not too softly for me to hear.

"Paranoia is a useful trait in a shinobi," Ryuguji seemed to disagree, and I refused to allow that to ingratiate him to me. Even if all of this was true, and he was in fact an exam proctor, I would probably never trust the man again. Nor the other one, who seemed to have better things to do now than apologize to me. Not that anyone else was either.

Almost anyone else.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for the role I played in this situation," Motoharu—the real one, supposedly—offered. He hadn't spoken up since entering, apparently not wanting to step on the two jonin's toes.

"I…appreciate that," I said, not really meaning it. He hadn't personally wronged me like the jonin had, though, so him I might be able to forgive. In time.

"Out of respect for your wishes, and for the ordeal we put you through, we will refrain from asking for information you might find suspicious at this time," Ryuguji stated. "Although many people, including myself, are very curious about some of the skills and weaponry you displayed in your fight against me."

Ooooh, yikes. Yeah, those would take some explaining.

"But for now, go back to your brother and rest. Tomorrow, you will return to the academy for team assignment."

My eyes shot to his. "I passed?"

"Set an all-time record, actually," Yoshiro-sensei said mildly. "Congratulations. You have earned Batch Sixty-Seven's top seat."

And by extension, the most prestigious of the jonin sensei willing to take on a team this time around (probably, unless our skill sets were contradictory to one another). If I could be sure I wasn't in a genjutsu right now, I would be elated.

"I got the top spot," I repeated, doubtfully. "Even though I got a zero on the Moguragakure no Jutsu?"

"That score was overwritten," he revealed. "You displayed a more than sufficient proficiency over the technique during the survival test to warrant that."

"Try not to let your doubts keep you from celebrating," Ryuguji added. "Think of it this way. Even if you were in captivity, what would be the harm in sharing a good meal with your brother?"

I suppose he had a point. If I was already captured, there would be no point in poisoning me. Truth serums weren't a thing, even in the Elemental Nations, and every suppressant I knew of was more effective when administered through injection than ingestion anyway.

"Go, Imai," Yoshiro-sensei dismissed me. "And get some rest."

I nodded jerkily, took two steps but paused.

Wait, sensei," I said, turning around. "If I really passed, where's my—"

Something flew at me, and out of reflex I reached out and caught it. In my hand, I clutched a metal rectangle, affixed to a red band. Despite everything, I grinned as I saw my reflection, interposed with the etched symbol of my village.

"Let me rephrase. Get some rest, Genin Imai Kasaiki," said Yoshiro-sensei. "That's an order, not from a teacher to student, but from a superior comrade to his junior. Your time in the academy has come to an end, but make no mistake. Your journey as a shinobi of Iwagakure has only just begun. Wear that Hitai-ate with pride, and serve our village well."

I was still looking at my reflection. This headband was way too shiny—I would need to find some way to tarnish it. Couldn't have it giving me away in the field if the sunlight hit it the wrong way or something.

"Of course, Yoshiro…san."

I hoped to see some grimace at the address, but he knew better than to give me the satisfaction.

"Get lost, kid."

And I was more than happy to oblige.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

AN: Woohoo! The exam is finally over! Kasaiki passed and got a jonin sensei!

I'm not sure how people will feel about the kinda plot twist. I tried to fool people into thinking the exam was actually derailed, and though it worked on quite a few of you,plenty of people saw through it as well. This marks the first and last time I'll ever use the "and it was all a dream" thing (not that it was a dream—you get what I mean, though). But it's not time for Kasaiki to run afoul of Konoha. I was just trying to figure out how Iwa would round out their infamous exam, and this seemed like the logical thing based on my own image of the village.

Well, regardless of how you feel about it, I know that everyone will be excited for the next chapter. I sure as hell am. I've been looking forward to team selection for a long, long time. Can anyone guess who her teammates will be? It's not exactly something I was trying to hide.

Regarding names. I was hoping to come up with a decision by now, but I just can't settle on anything. People like Sink Like a Stone, but it's definitely not unanimous. I also just got an idea from hiro2protagonist (one of my favorite reviewers) to change it to Float Like a Stone, which I also kinda like. It subverts the saying, which might draw people in.

People liked Rock Bottom too, and in a similar vein, users neverfuckinglearnedhowtoread on archive and Noneofit on FF suggested Between a Hidden Rock and a Hard Place. And finally, Ink-Stone, suggested by user CosmicAquaShade on archive. Apparently that's a real calligraphy tool, so it would tie in with all the fuinjutsu focus. But then again, that's not common knowledge, so it might go over peoples' heads.

Out of those five choices, let me know what you think, and have a great week!