Naruto: Thrown Into the Leaf

Hiruzen watched him for a moment, fingers beneath his chin. There was pride in his eyes. But also thought and Caution.

"There's something else," Hiruzen finally said, voice lowering as he leaned back slightly. "Normally, a newly promoted chūnin is placed under the guidance of a jōnin or special squad leader, depending on their skills."

He paused.

The silence between them stretched.

Hiruzen continued, "With you… it may take a little time."

Otis raised an eyebrow. Just slightly. "Why?"

"Because the usual boxes don't fit you." Hiruzen gave a tired, almost amused sigh. "Your abilities are… unique. Your temperament, even more so."

A flicker of something passed through Otis's eyes. Not annoyance. Just… understanding.

Hiruzen tapped the desk lightly. "I won't place you under someone who doesn't know what to do with you. Or worse—someone who'd try to 'fix' you."

"So," Hiruzen said, leaning forward again, "give me a little time. A few weeks, maybe. Until then—keep training."

Otis looked away for a moment, glancing toward the window. Then back.

"…Can I still accept missions?"

"Yes. Solo D-rank or team-assist. No C-rank or higher without clearance."

Otis nodded, then bowed slightly.

"Thank you."

He was halfway to the door when Hiruzen called out.

"Otis."

Otis looked over his shoulder.

"Try not to throw anything near the Hokage Monument. It's expensive to fix."

Otis gave a simple nod.

"Noted."

And he was gone.

The door shut with a soft click, leaving Hiruzen alone.

He didn't move at first.

Just leaned back slowly in his chair, pipe between his fingers, eyes drifting… not to the ceiling, not to the window — but toward the far right corner of the room.

There, half-covered in shadow, sat a simple black box.

It was made of wood, bound in iron at the edges, and wrapped in three layers of sealing tags,

Seals only he could break.

He hadn't touched it in years.

Not since… her.

He stood slowly, his joints cracking, and walked to it.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

He crouched down, and with fingers that trembled ever so slightly, and pressed them to the seals.

"Kai."

The chakra tags hissed and peeled away one by one.

The box clicked.

He opened it.

Inside were two items, placed with care atop a faded red cloth.

A Shield, darkened from battle, its edges dented and worn. In its center was the faint outline of an Unknown crest — but barely visible, as if time had tried to erase it.

Next to it, an Axe.

They are not ceremonial or ornate weapons

They are Heavy and Old.

The kind of weapons meant for war — not for display.

Hiruzen stared at them silently.

He didn't touch them.

He just looked.

For a long time.

Then he murmured, more to the weapons than to himself:

"I hope you're right."

He closed the box slowly, resealing it.

He returned to his desk, lighter in hand, pipe still burning.

But now… his gaze lingered on the corner.

Not out of fear or even nostalgia.

Because something was definitely changing.

He leaned back in his chair again, blowing a thin trail of smoke toward the ceiling.

"I'm going to need a stronger tea."

***

Location: Otis's Riverside Hut — Early Evening

A few days after Otis was promoted to Chūnin.

The sun was dipping low, casting long golden streaks across the riverbank.

Near the river, smoke from a small cookfire curled lazily upward.

Otis crouched by the stream, scaling two fat fish with mechanical precision. His shirt hung from a low branch nearby, drying in the evening air.

A few steps away, Hinata knelt by the fire, arranging sliced vegetables and rice cakes she had packed in a cloth bag.

"We should sear it lightly," she said, focused. "That'll keep the skin crisp."

"Mm," Otis grunted.

This had become a kind of ritual — she trained with him, failed to land hits, got thrown in the dirt once or twice… and then stayed to cook.

In return, Otis caught fish and didn't complain.

As the fish sizzled, Hinata wiped her forehead, cheeks red from the heat

Otis walked over with a bowl of water, dropped it beside her, and sat.

They ate together.

Both with straight backs and elbows neatly placed.

Each bite taken with rhythmic discipline — like two wind-up clocks set to the same tempo.

Bite. Chew. Swallow. Bite. Chew. Swallow.

They didn't even notice the similarity — but anyone watching would swear they were genetically designed to devour food in sync.

That's when Sayuri stepped into the clearing, arms crossed.

She stopped.

Stared.

Stared hard.

Otis and Hinata turned their heads toward her… mid-bite, both with cheeks puffed out identically and matching expressions

A beat of silence.

"What the actual hell is this?" Sayuri said, blinking.

Otis swallowed. "Dinner."

Hinata blinked rapidly. "I-I made glazed rice and steamed—"

"No, no." Sayuri held up a hand. "I'm not judging the food. I'm judging this weird synchronized forest couple act."

Otis raised an eyebrow. "We're just eating."

"Together. At the same speed. Like you've rehearsed it."

Hinata turned scarlet and stared down at her plate.

Sayuri narrowed her eyes.

"How many plates have you eaten?"

Hinata softly: "Four."

Sayuri turned to Otis, incredulous.

"You're letting her eat like that?"

"She earned it."

"Doing what? Getting thrown by you"

Otis nodded once. "I call it Progress."

Sayuri put her hands on her hips.

"So this is what I've been missing while you're out here playing caveman-husband."

Hinata, still pink-faced, offered a plate. "Y-You can join us… if you're hungry."

Sayuri gave her a flat look. "You want me to third-wheel your couples' food battle?"

Otis shrugged. "Up to you."

Hinata nodded quickly. "It's okay if—if you want—"

Sayuri sighed, then slowly reached out and picked up a rice ball.

Otis said nothing.

She took a bite.

Chewed.

Paused.

"...Okay," she muttered. "This is really good. Dammit."

...

(A/N)

Who do you guys think should be Otis's sensei?

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