Raizen's POV
⸻
We'd been walking forever.
I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and watched Raitaro's back, the white flak jacket and dark hair bobbing just ahead of us.
Where is this guy even taking us?
From my original memories, I didn't remember anyone from Kumo named Raitaro. Then again, I'd already confirmed this wasn't the original Naruto world—more like an alternate branch spinning off on its own. Still, the rumors about him were pretty wild.
A super prodigy. Maybe even more talented than Reina. And, apparently, blessed with "unfairly amazing looks."
Judging by the way the street reacted, that last part was definitely true.
As we walked, Raitaro drew eyes like a magnet. Women at shop stalls paused mid-sale just to stare. A pair of chūnin kunoichi passed us, whispering behind their hands and turning bright red when he glanced their way. One girl actually swayed on her feet and had to grab her friend's arm when Raitaro's purple eyes brushed past her.
I heard a sharp scoff from beside me.
Reina clicked her tongue. "What's with all these weak women falling over themselves? Our sensei doesn't even seem that strong. How strong could he really be? He's only a few years older than us."
I kind of agreed. He didn't give off that crushing presence some jōnin had—no killing intent, no pressure. But I wasn't stupid enough to underestimate him just because he looked calm.
He was a jōnin. That alone meant danger.
From a step behind us, a cool voice cut in.
"His name is Shiranui Raitaro," Samui said. "He's from the main Shiranui family. He has a younger sister who's a genin—also considered highly talented for her age group. He specializes in swordsmanship and Lightning Release."
Reina and I snapped our heads around at the same time.
Samui walked with her usual blank expression, eyes half-lidded, as if she'd just read out the weather report instead of a classified file.
Reina narrowed her eyes. "How did you get all of that information?"
Without breaking stride, Samui pulled a small, worn notebook from her pouch and casually tossed it to Reina.
"Just basic info I found in our village's bingo book," she said. "Not too hard to get a hold of."
Reina caught it, frowning down at the cover.
I let out a low whistle. "Seems like at least one of us came prepared."
Reina shot me a dangerous look over the edge of the book, like she was deciding whether or not I deserved a kunai to the face. Then she flipped it open and started skimming Raitaro's entry, eyes narrowing with each line she read.
Up ahead, Raitaro kept walking, hands folded behind his head, not once looking back—
—but I had a feeling he knew exactly what page Reina was on. A jōnin who didn't watch his back didn't live very long.
We walked in silence as the noise of the village faded behind us.
Gravel crunched under our sandals as the path narrowed, stone markers rising on either side like teeth. The air grew cooler, quieter. Even the ever-present hum of Kumogakure's storm clouds felt distant here.
I glanced up at the tall iron gate ahead and felt my stomach dip.
The village graveyard.
Reina broke the silence first.
"Um… what the hell are we doing at the village graveyard, sensei?" she asked, eyebrows knitting together.
Raitaro only chuckled. "C'mon. Just follow me. There's something I want to show you."
Samui and I exchanged a quick look—What is this guy doing?—then followed after our annoyingly relaxed sensei as he slipped through the gate.
We wound our way deeper through rows of headstones, past fresh flowers and old incense sticks burned down to ash. Raitaro walked without hesitation, as if he'd taken this route a hundred times.
Finally, he came to a stop in front of three graves lined up side by side.
"We're here," he said quietly.
I stepped up beside him and read the names engraved in stone.
Akihiro Shiranui – "Kumo's Thunder Lotus"
Haname Shiranui
Renge Shiranui
My heart clenched.
Shiranui…
Behind me, Samui's voice wavered for once.
"S-sensei… is this your family?"
Raitaro didn't look at us. He kept his eyes on the gravestones and gave a small nod.
"My older brother, Renge," he started, voice soft but steady. "He died a glorious death during the Third Great Shinobi War. He was a prodigy—honestly, even more talented than me. He taught me everything I know."
I swallowed. There was no joking tone in him now. Just quiet respect.
"During the war, he was still pretty young," Raitaro continued, "but already a jōnin, commanding his own squad. On one mission… they didn't come back." He exhaled slowly. "I still don't know the exact details. Just the outcome."
He shifted his gaze to the first stone.
"My father, Akihiro, died on the Konoha front. One of the many nameless storms they sent against the Leaf."
Then his eyes settled on the middle gravestone.
"My mother, Haname… she lived long enough to hear both their names added here." His jaw tightened for a heartbeat. "After that, heartbreak did what kunai didn't."
He straightened, rolling his shoulders back as if physically shrugging off the weight of the memories.
"So now," he said, finally turning to face us, "it's just me and my little sister, Aiko."
The wind tugged at his hair; the graveyard was utterly still.
"I'm telling you all this," Raitaro went on, "so you know who I really am and what I come from. If we're going to be a team, I'm not just your jōnin commander. I'm someone who's already buried too much family to treat you like disposable tools."
He let that hang in the air for a moment, then his expression softened into something almost playful.
"Which," he said, "makes this a good time for team introductions."
He stepped back from the graves and gave us a small, lopsided smile.
"My name is Shiranui Raitaro," he began. "I like spicy food, heights, and spending money. My favorite color is purple. I dislike people dragging up my past, liars and manipulators… and frogs."
I blinked.
Frogs?
"I specialize in Lightning Release and swordsmanship," Raitaro continued. "As your sensei, I intend to make sure all of you reach your full potential—and eventually surpass me. I also intend to build something like a family again. One made of my closest friends… and my students."
His gaze moved across the three of us, sharp and assessing, then settled on Samui.
"Alright," he said, chin tipping her way. "Your turn."
Samui gave her introduction—cool, precise, listing her likes, dislikes, and skills. When she finished, Raitaro responded, then folded his arms.
"From the files I have about our team, it seems like you're the most mature," he said. "But from what I saw, we're going to have to work on your risk tolerance. And your kenjutsu needs to evolve from 'solid academy defense' to something that can stand in front of jōnin steel."
Samui nodded, accepting his assessment without argument.
I watched her for a second longer.
Yeah… that tracks, I thought. Quiet. Sharp. Careful to a fault.
⸻
Reina stood with her arms loosely folded, sword at her hip, watching the exchange with that focused, measuring stare I'd gotten used to over the years.
I already knew some of her quirks from class:
Reina liked early-morning drills when the yard was still empty, her blade oiled and perfectly balanced. She liked clean, efficient fights where formations held and people followed orders. Thunderstorms didn't bother her—in fact, I'd caught her a few times just standing under the overhang, watching lightning fork over the village like she was memorizing each strike.
She hated slackers and people who treated training like a joke. Hated when someone tried to show off in a spar and left their partner exposed. And more than anything, she couldn't stand cowards—people who panicked and froze when others were counting on them.
My own tastes were a world away.
I liked chocolate—the good stuff from the upper-district vendors, not the chalky rations. I liked well-prepared meals, perfectly cut vegetables, rice cooked right, everything neat on the plate. I liked lightning physics, digging through memories of my old world and trying to line them up with chakra theory, sketching waveforms and discharge paths in the margins of my notebooks. And I liked being alone—quiet rooftops, empty classrooms after hours, the calm hum of chakra in my veins with no one talking at me.
What I didn't like were loud people who filled every silence just to listen to themselves, and thieves—of food, of tools, of credit. Maybe especially thieves of credit.
⸻
Raitaro clapped his hands once, breaking the moment.
"Nice, Samui. It's a pleasure to meet you. From the files I have about our team, it seems like you're the most mature. But from what I saw…"
He tilted his head slightly, purple eyes narrowing just a fraction.
"…we're going to have to work on your risk tolerance. And your kenjutsu needs to evolve from 'solid academy defense' to something that can stand in front of jōnin steel."
Samui took that in with a slow breath and a short nod.
"Understood, sensei."
Raitaro looked satisfied, then shifted his attention.
"Alright. Reina. You're next."
Reina straightened a little, hand resting lightly on her sword hilt.
"Reina. I like structured training, clean blades, and teammates who follow orders without whining."
Her gaze flicked briefly to me, then away.
"I prefer early missions—less noise, fewer civilians underfoot. I don't mind storms. I like… fights where the plan holds."
She exhaled through her nose.
"I dislike slackers, cowards, and people who treat missions like games. I don't like unnecessary killing or pointless destruction. If we fight, it's to complete the objective. That's all."
Raitaro's mouth tugged in the faintest hint of approval.
"And your strengths?" he asked.
"Kenjutsu first," Reina said. "I'm comfortable leading from the front, controlling engagement distance. I'm decent with Lightning Release—chakra flow, basic ranged techniques. I've trained some Intel and Espionage—tailing, counter-tailing, field observation."
She paused, then added, quieter:
"I'm also good at remembering terrain and enemy formations. And… making calls under pressure."
I watched her out of the corner of my eye.
Of course she is. That's why she's captain.
Raitaro nodded once.
"Good. Solid self-awareness."
Then those eyes turned to me.
"Raizen. Go."
I straightened, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep them from fidgeting.
"Raizen Tsukihana," I said.
I hesitated, then decided to just say it straight.
"I like chocolate. Properly cooked food. Quiet places. And… studying lightning."
I pushed on before that could sound too weird.
"Specifically, its behavior. Discharge patterns. How it interacts with chakra-conductive materials. I also like working alone when I can—it's easier to think."
I shrugged faintly.
"I dislike loud people who never shut up, and thieves. Of anything."
Raitaro's eyebrow ticked up, amused, but he didn't comment on it.
"Your strengths?" he asked.
"Web-based battlefield control," I answered. "I can turn terrain into a trap zone with threads and Lightning Release. I'm decent at genjutsu for my age—disruption, misdirection, fear triggers. I'm trained as a field medic. And I know basic sealing—storage, suppression, small barriers."
I didn't mention the eye. Not yet.
Raitaro studied me for a long second. I could practically feel those jōnin senses pulling at the edges of my chakra.
Finally, he stepped back a pace so he could address all three of us at once.
"Alright," he said. "You've all said who you think you are."
His tone didn't change much, but something under it hardened. The easy chuckle from earlier disappeared.
"Now I'll tell you what I see."
The graveyard went very quiet.
A breeze slipped through, tugging at Reina's hair, flicking the edge of Samui's sleeve. Somewhere farther off, thunder rolled low over the village.
Raitaro turned first to Samui.
"Samui Shirayuri. You're calm, disciplined, and you understand formation fighting better than most chūnin I've worked with."
He didn't soften the next part.
"You also play too safe. Your first instinct is always the lowest-risk option, even when the situation demands aggression. In war, that caution gets people killed just as surely as recklessness."
Samui's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
"You keep distance—not just in battle," Raitaro went on. "Professionally, emotionally. That works fine in clean missions. It fails when your squad needs more than a wall with a sword. If you want to lead or support leaders, you can't always stand outside the fire."
He let that land, then shifted to Reina.
"Reina."
She met his gaze without flinching.
"You're a natural captain. Good sword arm. Good eye. You think in terms of the whole field, not just your opponent. That's rare at your age."
Then he tilted his head.
"But you try to carry everything."
Reina's fingers tightened around her hilt.
"You want to be the one in front, the one making the plan, the one covering the gap when someone falters," he said. "You don't delegate enough. You don't trust your teammates' specialties as much as you should. And when things go wrong, you blame yourself first and only."
He folded his arms.
"In a real war, a captain who tries to be the shield, the spear, and the brain at the same time doesn't live long. And when they die, their team dies with them."
Reina's throat bobbed, but her expression stayed steady.
Raitaro turned last to me.
"Raizen Tsukihana."
I felt my spine straighten on instinct.
"You're clever," he said. "Your control over threads, lightning, and genjutsu is impressive for your age. You see patterns. You think in layers. You prepare more than most kids even know how to."
It almost sounded like praise—right up until the word changed.
"But."
He held up a finger.
"You overthink. You wait for the perfect setup and let good openings pass. You rely on tricks so much that when someone punches straight through your web, you stumble."
He tapped his own temple lightly.
"You also have a bad habit of throwing yourself in the way when someone else might get hurt. That's not 'heroic.' That's gambling the squad's medic and specialist on impulse."
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
Yeah. Okay. Fair.
Raitaro's gaze sharpened, like he was seeing more than just the boy in front of him.
"And you've got… baggage," he said. "Legacy. Expectations. Whatever name you want for it. It gets under your skin. The wrong words, the wrong situation, and you stop thinking like a shinobi and start thinking like someone trying to prove something."
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. Samui and Reina both glanced at me, just for a heartbeat, then back to Raitaro.
He let the silence hang for a moment. Then he stepped back, hands sliding into his own pockets, unconsciously mirroring me.
"I'm not telling you this to tear you down," he said.
His voice was calm again, but the edge stayed.
"These are your weak points. The cracks I can see from one afternoon and a thin folder. Our job—my job—is to make sure those cracks don't get you killed when the missions stop being D-rank errands and start looking like the stories you've heard about the Third War."
He looked from Samui, to Reina, to me.
"How we're going to fix them… that's for later."
He turned toward the training field entrance, then glanced back over his shoulder, a faint, wolfish grin finally returning to his face.
"Team," he said, "welcome to the part of your lives where 'good for your age' stops mattering."
He paused, then added:
"From now on, we're officially Team Eleven."