Kazekage's secretary, Yasuhiro, slumped in his chair, rubbing his temples as he stared at the mountain of paperwork on his desk.
"Why is there always so much to do?" he muttered to himself, picking up another stack of papers. "Does the Kazekage think I'm made of chakra? Holidays? Never heard of them." He sighed dramatically but, despite his grumbling, he diligently sorted through the reports. Complaining had become his way of coping.
Today's task: reviewing the academy test results and assessments. Not exactly thrilling, but necessary. These reports helped determine the future of Sunagakure's shinobi forces.
Yasuhiro started with the final-year students. As expected, the results were underwhelming.
"Typical," he mumbled. "The good ones always graduate in their fifth or sixth year. What's left are… well, not exactly future Kazekages." He scanned the scores of the seventh-year students and shook his head. "Rarely anyone from this list is going to make it to chunin, let alone jonin. Might as well hand them civilian jobs now."
Moving on to the sixth-year students, he found more of the same. "Ah, brilliant," he muttered sarcastically. "Another batch of mediocrity." His pen hovered over the page as he jotted down a note for the Kazekage: 'Little potential in the current senior years. Recommend increased focus on practical skills.'
The fifth-year results finally showed a glimmer of hope. The students seemed a step above the rest, and one name caught his eye: Sasori. Yasuhiro leaned forward, his irritation briefly replaced by interest.
"Ah, the grandson of Chiyo," he said to himself, tapping the paper. "Taught by the captain of the Puppet Brigade herself, and the son of Isamu and Akari. A genius puppeteer in the making, eh?" He frowned, remembering the tragic story of Sasori's parents, killed by Sakumo Hatake. A heavy burden for a child.
Sasori's performance in the assessment wasn't extraordinary, but it was well above the standard for a puppeteer. "Full marks in theory," Yasuhiro murmured. "Expected, with his upbringing." He scribbled a note of acknowledgment before moving on.
The fourth-, third-, and second-year results didn't offer much excitement either. Most scores were average, except for a handful of students whose parents were ninja or belonged to clans. Yasuhiro's hand moved on autopilot, jotting down remarks here and there.
When he reached the first-year results, he almost didn't bother. "What can you expect from six-year-olds?" he said, flipping the page without looking. But then his eyes stopped.
One name stood out: Hiroshi.
The gap between his performance and the rest of the first-year students was staggering. The boy's physical assessment results were comparable to a fourth-year student, and his theoretical test scores were flawless. A note beside his name mentioned he had completed the test in just fifteen minutes.
Yasuhiro blinked. "Fifteen minutes? That has to be a mistake." He double-checked the details, but there it was in black and white. A six-year-old child had completed a test designed to stump most first-years in record time, and he'd scored perfectly.
Leaning back in his chair, Yasuhiro let out a low whistle. "Who is this kid?" he muttered, scanning for more details. The boy wasn't from a prominent clan, nor did he have a known ninja lineage. Just a civilian family. Yet, here he was, outperforming his peers by a wide margin.
Yasuhiro allowed himself a small smile. "Maybe this village isn't as doomed as I thought."
He closed the file and set it aside, standing up with a groan. It was time to report these findings to the Kazekage. As much as he complained, Yasuhiro couldn't deny the importance of his work. At least, for today, he had something positive to deliver.
"Well, Kazekage-sama," he said to himself, stretching as he gathered the reports, "looks like we might have a little genius in our hands. Let's hope he doesn't blow himself up before we can use him."
The Kazekage's office was a room of quiet authority. The walls, decorated with maps of the Land of Wind and Sunagakure's surrounding regions, bore the scars of countless discussions and decisions made in times of peace and war. A large wooden desk sat at the center, sparsely adorned save for neatly stacked papers, a single inkpot, and a brush. The Third Kazekage himself sat behind the desk, his dark eyes scanning a report with the intensity of a man who had borne the weight of a war-torn village on his shoulders.
The door to the office creaked slightly as Yasuhiro knocked, his hand hesitant but steady. Before the knock could echo, the Kazekage's calm, steady voice called out, "Enter."
Yasuhiro pushed the door open and stepped inside, his shoulders slightly stiffened out of both respect and the tension that came from working under such a commanding presence. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and began.
"Good morning, Kazekage-sama," Yasuhiro said politely, placing a stack of documents on the desk. "There are several matters to report today. I'll begin with the state of the village."
The Kazekage nodded, motioning for him to proceed. His face was unreadable, carved from stone, with not a flicker of emotion betraying his thoughts.
Yasuhiro flipped through his notes, beginning with the grim news. "The village continues to recover from the war. Many families are still grieving their losses. The fatalities included Chiyo-sama's son, Isamu, and his wife, Akari, among others. The Puppet Brigade is operating with reduced capacity, and morale remains low."
The Kazekage did not move, his gaze locked on Yasuhiro as if he could see past the words into the heart of the matter. Yasuhiro shifted slightly under the intensity but continued.
"Reports from the outer regions indicate more trouble. Bandits have been taking advantage of our weakened state, raiding trade caravans. We've sent patrols, but resources are stretched thin." He paused, letting the silence settle for a moment. "Additionally, the well systems in the northern districts are failing. Chiyo-sama has suggested repairs, but there's a shortage of skilled labor."
The Kazekage remained silent, his hands steepled as he absorbed the information. His face betrayed no anger, no sorrow—only the stoicism of a leader who had long learned to bury his emotions for the good of his people.
Yasuhiro moved on to the academy reports, eager to inject some semblance of hope into the conversation. "Regarding the academy assessments," he said, glancing at the documents, "the results of the senior years were… underwhelming, as expected. Most of the stronger candidates graduate by their fifth or sixth year. The seventh- and sixth-year students show little promise, and it's unlikely they'll contribute significantly to the shinobi ranks."
The Kazekage remained unmoved, though his sharp eyes flickered briefly with what might have been disappointment.
"However," Yasuhiro continued, his tone lightening slightly, "there is a promising name among the fifth years: Sasori, grandson of Chiyo-sama and the son of Isamu and Akari. He performed exceptionally in theory and above average in physical assessments, particularly for a puppeteer."
For a fraction of a second, the Kazekage's expression softened, a rare crack in his stoic mask. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm. He gestured for Yasuhiro to continue.
"Moving on to the younger years," Yasuhiro said, his voice steady again, "the results were mostly average, as expected. That is, until I reached the first-year assessments."
This time, the Kazekage's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity breaking through his composure.
"There is one student who stood out," Yasuhiro said, adjusting his glasses. "His name is Hiroshi. His theoretical test scores were perfect, and there's a note indicating he completed the test in just fifteen minutes. His physical assessment results are remarkable for his age—on par with a fourth-year student."
The Kazekage's eyebrows rose slightly, a rare and deliberate show of interest.
"I've confirmed his background," Yasuhiro continued. "He is from a civilian family with no ninja lineage. His performance is… highly unusual."
Yasuhiro waited, sensing that the Kazekage had no more questions. "That concludes today's reports, Kazekage-sama," he said, bowing slightly.
As the door closed behind Yasuhiro, the Kazekage leaned back in his chair, the weight of the village pressing down on his shoulders. His steady gaze drifted to the window, where the harsh sunlight of the desert illuminated Sunagakure's streets. The village bustled with activity, but he could see the strain in the faces of its people.
The Second Shinobi War had left deep scars. Houses still bore signs of damage, their walls patched with mismatched materials. Families had been torn apart, with many still mourning their lost loved ones. Missions were fewer, as clients turned to larger villages like Konoha and Iwa. Sunagakure's economy was fragile, its people weary but determined.
He thought about Chiyo, one of the village's pillars in the war, now reduced to spending her days mentoring her grandson, Sasori. She was a brilliant puppeteer, unmatched in her craft, but grief had dulled her once fiery spirit. Losing both her son, Isamu, and daughter-in-law, Akari, to Sakumo Hatake's blade had left her bitter.
Still, Sasori was a light in her darkened world. The boy's talent in puppetry was remarkable, even at his young age. His test results confirmed what many already whispered—he might surpass his grandmother one day. Yet, the Kazekage knew that genius alone was not enough. Genius untethered often led to destruction, and Sasori's loss might fester into something dangerous if left unchecked.
"Will he be our salvation or our undoing?" the Kazekage thought, his expression remaining calm, though his mind weighed the possibilities.
His thoughts shifted to the younger student Yasuhiro mentioned—Hiroshi. A civilian boy with no ties to shinobi clans, yet his results stood above the rest. Physical abilities far beyond his age group and intellect sharper than most older students. It was rare for someone outside a ninja lineage to show such promise, especially in a village where legacy often defined opportunity.
The Kazekage tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, his calm exterior masking the curiosity and caution that brewed within him.
---
He called for the ANBU. The masked ninja appeared instantly, kneeling before him.
"Gather information on the boy Hiroshi," the Kazekage ordered, his voice steady. "I want to know more than just his academic performance. Look into his family, his habits, his motivations. Leave nothing unexamined."
The ANBU nodded and vanished without a word.
The Kazekage turned his attention back to the reports Yasuhiro had left. The village's recovery was slow, but hope could not be ignored. Sasori's talent, Hiroshi's potential—these could be the seeds of a stronger future for Sunagakure.
Yet he knew that nurturing talent required careful guidance. Both boys were young, their paths unformed. The Kazekage resolved to keep a watchful eye on them, not just for their success, but for the safety of the village.
"Talent can build a future, but it can also destroy it if left unchecked," he thought.
As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across his office, the Kazekage returned to the other pressing matters of the day. His expression remained stoic, but a small spark of hope flickered within him. Sunagakure's future was uncertain, but perhaps, just perhaps, it was not as bleak as it seemed.
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