CH_6.40 (211)

CH_6.40 (211)

While Anko believed that her genin wouldn’t give her incorrect information, she already held some healthy skepticism that the joint exercise wasn’t just for the purpose of training and that Masumoto Shohei was trying to make a name for himself by using her as a stepping-stone. Thinking about a situation from both sides of the spectrum was always helpful for analysis.

It angered her very much so, but logic and reasoning prevailed. Even if it was true, she wasn’t that worried about it. She understood that her reputation as the Snake’s student would haunt her for life—but people liked to forget that the Snake was one of the Legendary Sannin and she was his student. As ill-fated as their relationship was, he had taught her his techniques. If they thought she was some small fry that could be swept aside, they were sorely mistaken.

She always welcomed the opportunity to present a feast to her babies.

Anko had already thought of a way to handle the situation, but it seemed that Takuma had his own thoughts. She was interested to know what little scheme he’d cooked in his head. He had ruined the chances of Team-9 getting on the precursor mission thanks to the stunt he pulled with the Hidden Steam’s Benzou—and she was mighty displeased to know that he had been in contact with Benzou behind her back.

It wasn’t that he had talked with Benzou, which pissed her off, but the fact that he hadn’t told her about his involvement.

She was of the mind to shut Takuma down and take control of the situation as a punishment, but she decided to let him have a go. Going behind her back was his first offense, and she was willing to give people a second chance.

Her five genin were a good group of shinobi. They had bright futures ahead of them.

Iori had a good head on her shoulder, and Anko was sure she had what it took to become a chunin through her fuinjutsu. The girl had a prosperous future like most skilled fuin-nin.

Communication wasn’t Rikku’s strong suit, which meant it would take her more effort to rise up as she couldn’t market herself properly, but if she kept improving, Anko was willing to bet that she would be one day made chunin and put on a strike team under a jonin’s command.

There was nothing to be said about Kameko, she was the little miss of the Taketori clan and had enough political sway behind her that chunin was guaranteed—but that same sway could tie her down to the chunin rank and her further progress would solely depend if she could set herself apart. As she was now, ‘Jonin Taketori Kameko’ was simply a pipe dream.

Anko knew that Daiki would leave the service and return to being a civilian one day. His mindset wouldn’t take him far as a shinobi and he would promptly switch to being an overpaid bodyguard for some rich mook—but that wasn’t a bad thing.

Then there was Takuma. Everything about him painted a picture in Anko’s mind. The boy was special. Not because he had some gift that made him valuable. It was the little things. It was as though he was carefully molded into being the ideal image of a shinobi. Lord Third Hokage was called the God of Shinobi and was the ideal in the minds of many. They wanted to be like him, mimic him in the hopes that they could achieve a fraction of what he had.

But in Anko’s mind, the boy before her was so much closer to the ideal. The Hokage shone too brightly. Jonin, like the Copy Ninja and the Green Beast, had too strong of a presence. She had met the young Uchiha prodigy once, and all her senses whispered danger when he was just seated and silently sipping tea—she could only imagine what would happen if he had his eyes on her. Even Orochimaru, as much as he wanted to hide it, oozed malice that prickled—and his two peers, the Slug Princess and the Toad Sage, had similar problems.

Perhaps that was what happened when shinobi stood at those high stages.

But Takuma showed nothing. He didn’t stand out and looked like an overworked grunt who couldn’t catch a break half the time. Even with those scars of his—that by all right should make him look menacing—he seemed harmless—until he didn’t. That lack of danger from him was what made him dangerous. People weren’t cautious until they had a reason to be and Takuma didn’t usually give people a reason to be cautious against him—so when he became a threat, it came as a massive surprise..

She had seen him fight Kameko and Rikku; both seemed like they could win until the last moment before they lost, and the conclusion seemed natural. In his fight against Rikku, Anko was so taken aback by her instincts, yelling at her that she needed to stop the fight or Rikku would be dead.

There was no reason for Takuma to kill Rikku, but seeing him atop her with a kunai, Anko genuinely thought he would for a moment.

When she found that Takuma had given Benzou the idea for the read, she was displeased, but she was also alarmed that a few words from a genin had led to something as big as the Gojiro Gold Mine operation with several jonin, dozens of chunin, and hundreds of genin involved—and it had happened just like Takuma wanted it to happen. Takuma had told her that he didn’t think it would lead anywhere—but then it did—so was it intentional... or was it all by chance, as Takuma said.

She did not know but she was sure that Takuma would go a long way as a shinobi... if he managed to stay alive long enough.

Anko returned her attention back to Masumoto.

“As we discussed, as this is our first joint exercise, we will start with tag team sparring today,” Masumoto said with a smile. “Only one member from each teams is allowed to spar at a time. If they lose they’re replaced by one of their teammates and the spar continues. You can’t stop sparring unless you lose—meaning no forfeiting. We—Chunin Mitarashi and I—will be recording everyone’s performance and the people with the worst from both teams will be punished.”

He looked at Anko and she nodded. They had decided that a tag team format spar would be a good exercise for both teams. Even though it was solo sparring, it was a team exercise if the teams strategized.

“Just a reminder, the use of ninjutsu is allowed,” Takuma said to his new opponent. He threw Yuka’s kunai away and raised his bare fists up. “You can use anything you want.”

Akio was taken aback but pulled his hands up.

Anko smiled. She could tell what Akio was thinking. He was wondering if Takuma had reminded him of ninjutsu because he was going to use ninjutsu during the fight. A few words from Takuma had made Akio cautious and on the lookout.

Takuma very slowly stepped close to Akio and started with an intentionally telegraphed jab to Akio’s guard. The strike was so light that it confused Akio, who struck out with a cross that Takuma effortlessly slapped aside and countered with a lightning-quick cross straight to the chest, bypassing Akio’s half-guard. The cross tapped Akio’s chest, once again not doing any real damage.

Akio frowned, anger flaring in his eyes. “Are you making fun—”

He wasn’t able to complete his sentence as Takuma lightly kicked his calf with no real force behind it. Akio was so stunned that he forgot his anger for a moment before it flooded back in full force.

“I’m going to fuck you up,” Akio spat heatedly and charged Takuma, who skipped back with a butterfly’s grace.

Akio raged after him like a bull, with the intention to harm, each strike carrying the full force of his body. Takuma was the mirror opposite, the picture of calm. His defense was dexterous and he was agile on his feet—like he did with Yuka he evaded most of Akio’s rush and blocked what he couldn’t with a practiced ease.

Takuma continued to tap Akio with weak punches, striking through and around Akio’s guard. The onlookers laughed every time Takuma managed to get a tap in, openly making fun of Akio, who only got angrier the more Takuma played with him. It was like Takuma was putting on a show—this was entertainment, not training. Akio was the bull, and Takuma, the matador, was doing his best to anger him more and more.

It was so unlike Takuma that Anko couldn’t figure out his aim.

Takuma’s core combat philosophy was to do hard damage and end fights as quickly as possible—no matter the execution, He aimed to do enough damage and pain that the opponent wouldn’t want to fight. His augmented strikes landed where it would hurt the most, his kunai cut where it would bleed most. While most tried to do just enough damage to make their opponent surrender willingly, Takuma very much preferred to beat his opponent within an the inch of their lives, giving them one choice: surrender.

Akio threw a kunai at Takuma’s face from a very short distance. Takuma caught it, and in the same continuous, fluid motion, he flung it back at Akio’s legs. The kunai didn’t draw blood and only lightly ripped Akio’s pants at the inner thigh, very close to his crotch.

Akio flushed as she glanced at the spectators, who laughed like they were at a comedy show. He turned his eyes back at Takuma, who raised his hands and shrugged.

“Ninjutsu, c’mon.”

Akio jumped back to put enough distance between them and then weaved hand seals for ninjutsu.

Unbothered, Takuma took out a shuriken and launched it toward Akio. The shuriken flew so fast that Akio was staggered. He abandoned the hand seals and skipped to the side, where another two shuriken landed next to his feet making him to a lurching stop. Three more shuriken passed by him, leaving rips in his clothes, and not breaking skin.

The next moment, Takuma was before Akio with a kunai in his hand. He tapped the shaken Akio’s face with the flat of the kunai.

Takuma turned to Anko and said, “Next?”

Anko snorted and rolled her eyes at him.

“Next.”

Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to Patreón []. Link here and in signature.

Note: All the chapters will eventually be posted on public forums.