(MC POV)
The first official week went surprisingly well. No fatalities, minor property damage, and the kids were already spreading rumors that I once fought a tailed beast using only a ladle and sarcasm. I'd like to clarify: it was not a tailed beast, it was a genjutsu-possessed tanuki with abandonment issues. But I appreciated the flair.
So naturally, someone filed a complaint.
"You're Satou Tanaka, correct?"
I looked up from my desk, where I was currently constructing a chakra-powered quiz buzzer shaped like a kunai. The desk was technically made from two upside-down training dummies and a flattened metal sign that once read "NO FIRE JUTSU IN CLASSROOMS." I consider it decor.
Standing in the doorway was a man dressed like a rejection letter—grey uniform, clean lines, radiating the emotional rigidity of someone who irons their socks and schedules their sighs. His eyes carried the haunted gleam of someone who had once believed in systems.
"That depends," I said, "on whether you're here to promote me or kill me."
He didn't blink. "I'm Jun-sensei. I teach Applied Chakra Theory. I'd like to speak with you."
[Master~ Authority Alert! You're being confronted by a Serious Character with backstory trauma. Proceed with caution or sarcasm.]
I gestured to the nearest clone, who silently offered Jun-sensei a seat and a stress mochi. Jun did not accept the mochi. The mochi looked offended. I briefly considered awarding it emotional support status.
"I've read your reports," Jun said. "I've seen the field footage. You've turned the curriculum into a circus."
"Correction," I said, holding up one finger. "An educational circus."
He crossed his arms. "Children need discipline, not whatever you call this… chakra-infused soup combat."
"It was minestrone jutsu, thank you very much."
We moved the conversation to the staff lounge. Or, more accurately, I walked backwards while narrating my own dramatic tension arc until we hit the tea kettle.
Jun followed. Begrudgingly. The lounge was quiet, save for the distant thunk of someone failing a transformation jutsu in another room.
"I'm not here to undermine your teaching," he said. "But this Academy has traditions. Structure. A reputation."
"And I'm here to prepare these kids for reality, Jun-sensei," I said, pouring us both tea. "And reality doesn't hand out neat worksheets. It throws exploding scrolls and identity crises."
[Master~ You are now 83% sass. Shall I deploy glitter sarcasm field?]
Jun exhaled through his nose. The teacher's version of an eye twitch. He sat, but he didn't drink the tea. It steamed in quiet judgment.
"Your methods are unorthodox," he muttered. "You have no formal accreditation, no discipline background, and your file is—"
"A scrapbook of divine interference and stylized chaos?"
He blinked once. Slowly.
Our argument was interrupted by a very loud BOOM.
Both of us turned just as the window filled with smoke and a single paper crane fluttered in, spinning lazily before hitting the floor. It was singed and glowing faintly. The faint smell of cinnamon.
"That's... my class," I said, setting down my cup.
"Of course it is," Jun muttered. He stood and followed me back down the hallway like a man preparing to witness a war crime.
Back in 1-A, the kids were halfway through a live demonstration on 'Emergency Evasion Techniques Using Everyday Furniture.'
Anko had flipped a desk and turned it into a mobile fortress. She had painted fangs on it.
Iruka was mid-roll under a summoned kotatsu, holding a wooden spoon like a dagger.
Mizuki was stuck in a supply closet that now functioned as a sensory deprivation trap. On purpose. He had a sign taped to the door that said "Character Development in Progress." Someone had added a progress bar underneath. It was at 23%.
Jun stared.
I spread my arms. "Education."
He didn't say anything until after the dust settled and the kids stood at attention. Mostly. One clone gave a thumbs up. Another gave a peace sign. A third just exploded confetti.
"You'll be supervising Tanaka-sensei's next lesson," said the principal, who had somehow materialized behind us like all true bureaucratic threats. His clipboard sparkled ominously.
Jun twitched. Just slightly.
I smiled. Like the threat I am.
System-tan buzzed.
[Master~ Rival Acquired. Would you like to nickname him? Options: Grump-no-jutsu / Rulebook-kun / The Straight Man / Sensei McSeriousface]
I selected all of them. It crashed the interface for a moment.
That afternoon, Jun watched in grim silence as I taught the kids stealth using invisible chalk and ambient guilt. Anko passed all tests instantly. Iruka tried to apologize to a trap trigger. Mizuki pretended to vanish by hiding behind a motivational poster.
Jun made no comments. But I caught him twitching when Iruka cited 'emotional terrain advantage' as a reason to cry mid-mission.
Progress.
Later, I assigned a mission called "Recover the Golden Eraser" which was just me hiding a sparkly eraser inside the Hokage's mailbox.
Iruka organized the team.
Anko rigged the courtyard with decoys.
Mizuki forged a hall pass from the Daimyō.
Jun's eye did that twitch again. I noted it in my rival observation journal—Page 3: Tics and Microexpressions. Page 1 was dedicated to his emotional weaknesses. Page 2 was just doodles of him frowning.
Back in the lounge, Jun finally sat down. The teacup he had previously ignored was now empty. My doing.
"I don't like your methods," he said, "but the kids are responding."
"Are you saying... you approve?"
"No. I'm saying I'm watching you."
"Aw. Our first real conversation. Shall we get matching pens?"
[Relationship Status Updated: Jun-sensei now tolerates your existence. He still considers your chakra signature mildly offensive.]
I sipped my tea and grinned.
"Faculty life suits me."
Outside, another paper crane exploded against the window in a puff of glitter and mild fire. A fourth grader cackled nearby. They'd weaponized the craft club.
"Mostly."