"Minato?" Tsunade blanked for a second before realizing who it was. "You're a Jonin instructor for this graduating class?"
"Yes, Senpai." Minato Namikaze smiled, nodding. "I'm the instructor for this year's Squad 7. And you, Senpai?"
"Coincidentally, so am I," Tsunade replied frankly.
"Oh?" A flash of surprise crossed Minato's face, though his smile remained unchanged. "I never expected Senpai to personally lead a squad. This is truly..."
He seemed to struggle to find the right words for a moment, but the astonishment in his eyes was clear. For this legendary kunoichi—Princess Tsunade, who had lived in deep seclusion for years—to step out of retirement and take on the role of a Jonin instructor, there had to be someone incredibly special in this graduating class.
"Don't mention it, it's a massive pain," Tsunade waved a hand, cutting off whatever polite pleasantries he was about to offer. Her gaze swept over the empty training ground. "Did you pick this spot to test your students later?"
"Yes, Senpai," Minato nodded. "I just didn't expect you to choose this place as well. Since you were here first, I can just take my students somewhere else later."
Normally, squad assignments and initial testing grounds for Jonin instructors were coordinated in advance during routine meetings at the Hokage's office to avoid double-booking.
But Tsunade's situation was unique. She hadn't attended any Jonin meetings. In fact, her becoming a Jonin instructor was a completely impromptu decision. Just a week ago, after hearing about the academy's early graduation exams , she had gone straight to the Third Hokage and forcefully demanded a squad.
Because of this, she was completely in the dark about the other Jonin's testing schedules. By pure coincidence, she and Minato Namikaze had claimed the exact same spot.
"No need for all that trouble," Tsunade said dismissively. "The place is big enough. You run your test, and I'll run mine."
Minato pondered for a brief moment before breaking into a bright smile, easily accepting the suggestion. "If you don't mind, Senpai, then I'll gladly take you up on that offer."
Tsunade nodded. Remembering something, she asked casually, "By the way, how are you planning to test those fresh-out-of-the-academy brats?"
Minato pulled two bells tied to red strings from his ninja pouch. "I'm planning to use these. The traditional bell test. They have a time limit to work together as a three-man team and take these bells from me. It's a good way to get an initial assessment of their individual skills and tactical thinking. But more importantly, it tests whether they can quickly form effective teamwork under intense pressure."
"A bell test..." Tsunade stared at the familiar metal bells, her eyes going out of focus for a split second as if she had traveled back in time, seeing a certain old man's wicked grin.
She quickly snapped back to reality, curling her lip in undisguised disdain. "This again. It's an old trick passed down from the old man. It's been decades and you guys still haven't changed the routine. How boring."
Instead of getting annoyed, Minato laughed. "You're right, Senpai. It's not exactly a novel test. But classics become classics for a reason. Under simple rules, it often exposes the most fundamental issues—teamwork, trust, and sacrifice. For rookies who just formed a squad and are still stuck in an academy mindset, it might be exactly what they need."
"Do whatever you want," she waved a hand, her tone as casual as ever.
"What kind of test are you planning to use, Senpai?" Minato asked curiously.
Tsunade hummed thoughtfully, her gaze sweeping over the empty training ground as if genuinely considering it. "I haven't completely decided yet. I'll wait and see what those brats are made of first."
---
Meanwhile, on another road leading to the Ninth Training Ground.
Shinichi Higashino was walking at a leisurely pace. The early morning streets were sparsely populated.
"Shinichi?"
Shinichi turned his head. Walking toward him from a fork in the road was Kurenai Yuhi.
Today, she had changed into a dark-colored, mobility-focused training outfit. A standard-issue straight sword hung neatly at her waist. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a sharp ponytail, exposing her smooth forehead and those calm, ruby-red eyes.
"Morning, Kurenai," Shinichi nodded in greeting, slowing his pace so she could catch up and walk beside him.
"Morning," Kurenai approached, her steps light and agile.
Glancing at the sword at her waist, Shinichi asked casually, "When did you start practicing swordsmanship?"
In his memory, this future Jonin who specialized in genjutsu didn't have much of a connection to blades.
Kurenai tilted her head slightly, a faint, clean smile gracing her lips. "Probably about three years ago."
She paused, as if recalling something amusing, and her smile deepened a fraction. "You probably didn't notice it yourself, Shinichi. But back in the academy, you practiced your swordplay in the training yard every single day at noon, rain or shine. You actually sparked a lot of interest in swordsmanship among the other students. Quite a few people ended up signing up at local dojos in the village or started practicing privately on their own."
She was telling the truth, but not the whole truth.
Over three years ago, during the end-of-term combat exams, Shinichi had used clean, overwhelmingly powerful swordplay to defeat Kakashi.
That scene had delivered a massive psychological impact to Kurenai, who was also a first-year student watching from the sidelines.
Ever since that day, she found herself subconsciously paying more attention to the boy in her grade named Shinichi Higashino.
Watching him pour out sweat every morning and noon with absolute singular focus; watching him treat others with a warm, polite demeanor that never felt overbearing; watching his silhouette grow continuously stronger through every exam and rumor—a subtle, transformative influence had quietly taken root.
She began training much harder. Not just in her family's inherited genjutsu, but she also started picking up blades, which she had previously been unfamiliar with. She wanted to experience that level of absolute focus, where mind and power condensed into a single point.
Imitation might be the earliest form of admiration. She appreciated his diligence and self-discipline, and she longed for that clear, unwavering sense of purpose.
This quiet observation and emulation made her more composed and hardworking. Even her father, Shinku Yuhi, was shocked by his daughter's sudden, passionate surge in physical conditioning and swordsmanship training.
Of course, Kurenai wouldn't easily voice these deeper, more nuanced psychological shifts to anyone.
She simply rationalized it as a natural change brought about by the positive influence of an outstanding classmate.
Hearing her explanation, realization dawned on Shinichi. He truly hadn't considered that his routine, almost mechanical training schedule would have such a ripple effect on the people around him.
"So that's what happened."
He nodded. "Practicing the sword definitely tempers the mind and improves physical control. It's highly beneficial for a shinobi's overall foundation. It's a good thing you're interested in it."
Kurenai offered a soft "Mhm," before suddenly speaking up again. "Shinichi... since we're teammates in the same squad now..." She paused, carefully choosing her words. "From now on... you can just call me Kurenai."
Hearing this, Shinichi glanced at her, easily catching onto the shift in dynamics, and nodded in agreement. "Alright. In that case, just call me Shinichi."
---