(1st Person - Judai's POV)
The meat bun shop was a welcome assault on the senses. The smell of steamed dough and savory pork filled the air, a perfect antidote to the lingering tension from our meeting with Minato. I was already mid-chew on my second bun, savoring the familiar taste. The shop was run by a family of foreigners, a quiet father and his three daughters, who had found a small niche for themselves here in Konoha.
I could never really complain about coming here. The oldest daughter, with her hair in two perfect buns like a certain weapons mistress I knew, took our order with quiet professionalism. The youngest, who had short, spiky black hair, was shy but always made sure our tea was full. And the middle sister, a sixteen-year-old with long, straight black hair that cascaded down her back, always found my antics amusing.
Who would be mad having such beautiful women serve you? I thought, giving a slight nod of appreciation as the middle sister brought another steamer basket to our table.
She caught my look and gave me a subtle, conspiratorial wink. I felt a grin spread across my face. Machi, noticing my expression, shot me a glare that could curdle milk.
"What are you smiling at, perv?" she muttered, taking a vicious bite out of her own bun.
"Just appreciating quality service," I said innocently.
She rolled her eyes, but then her expression turned serious. She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "Okay, enough screwing around. What was that back in the classroom?"
I feigned ignorance, stuffing half a meat bun into my mouth. "Whash wash whash?"
"Don't play dumb, Judai," she hissed, her patience wearing thin. "You told me to fail the test. But then on the roof, you weren't surprised at all when Minato-sensei said it was another exam. You knew. You knew we weren't real genin yet. How?"
I swallowed the bun and took a long sip of tea, buying myself a few seconds. I looked her straight in the eye. "That's exactly what I meant," I said simply.
Machi's fist slammed onto the table, making the baskets jump. "Explain! Now! Why would you want us to fail? We finally made it!"
I sighed, leaning back. This was the hard part. I couldn't tell her the whole truth—about my past life, about this being my second go-around, about the fact that I'd already seen this timeline play out to its bloody, tragic conclusion. She'd think I'd officially gone insane. I had to give her just enough of the truth to make her listen.
"We're going to fail anyway, Machi," I said calmly. "The test is about teamwork. And there is no way in hell that Kakashi is capable of working with a team right now."
"What's that supposed to mean? He's a prodigy!"
"He's a prodigy who is completely, emotionally shattered," I corrected. "He's still grieving his father. He's latched onto the idea that the mission is everything and teammates are expendable. He won't trust us, he won't cooperate, and he will try to do everything himself. We can't pass a teamwork test with a teammate who refuses to be part of a team. It's impossible."
And that's not even the half of it, I thought, the memories of my last timeline flooding my mind. In the original history, the real history, Kakashi graduates at five. But you don't see him on a genin team until he shows up with Obito and Rin when he's around ten or twelve. So what happened for those five to seven years in between? Simple. He bounced from team to team, failing every single one because his rigid, mission-first dogma made him impossible to work with. But the village couldn't have the son of the legendary White Fang fail out and go back to the Academy. It would look bad. So what did they do? They made him a special solo genin, an apprentice directly under Minato.
And what about us? In our last life, the first timeline, Machi and I were that failed Team 7. We took the bell test, we failed spectacularly because of Kakashi, and we got sent back to the Academy for another year. That's how we ended up in the same year group as Obito, Rin, Asuma, Kurenai, and the others. It was a humiliating step back, but it kept us off the front lines. This time, I'm not going through that humiliation. We're going to fail on our own terms.
Machi was staring at me, her brow furrowed. "I don't know, Judai. That sounds… paranoid. You're saying we should just give up because you think Kakashi is too messed up?"
"I'm not saying we should give up. I'm saying failing is a good thing right now," I explained, leaning forward again. "Think about it, Machi. The Third Great Shinobi War is about to kick off. The village is desperate for bodies. If we graduate now, where do you think they're sending a team of fresh-faced genin? Straight to the front lines to be cannon fodder. Graduating now is a death sentence."
'In the last timeline, we had three extra years of training before we saw real combat, and we still weren't ready. We died. ' But Judai didn't say this out loud but kept thinking about it over and over again. He honestly didn't know if he should be like naruto and try and will them to pass, to be the goof ball that Kakashi would love-hate. But deep down he knew he wasn't Naruto. Passing meant getting Minato and Kushina, guaranteed power but it was impossible.
I could see the gears turning in her head. She hated the logic of it, hated the idea of failing, but the fear was real. The war was coming. Everyone knew it.
"Being a solo genin, or an apprentice, isn't so bad," I added, softening my tone. "It means more specialized training, away from the meat grinder. It means we get stronger on our own terms, not as sacrificial pawns."
She chewed on her lip, looking down at her half-eaten bun. She didn't like it, not one bit. But she couldn't deny the cold, hard logic. It meant she had more options, a better chance to become the strong shinobi she wanted to be. She finally looked up at me, her expression a mix of frustration and grudging trust.
"Your heart's in the right place, I guess," she grumbled. "But you're still an idiot."
Later that afternoon, I wandered through the village alone, leaving Machi to her own devices. My mind was a whirlwind of plans. Three years. The war wouldn't reach its peak for about three years. That's how much time I had to get strong enough to change things. Strong enough to save my team.
My feet carried me to a familiar spot, a quiet corner of the village with a tall, leafy tree that overlooked water. I scaled it with ease, settling onto a thick branch that offered a perfect vantage point. The scent of mineral water and the pleasant sound of splashing filled the air. This was my thinking spot.
"You're back," a gravelly voice said from a branch just above me. "How were your travels?"
I looked up to see an old man with a wild mane of white hair and a familiar perverted grin. "They were great," I replied, my own grin spreading. "Lots of new sights."
"Especially the women, I hope," he chuckled.
"Of course," I said. "Tell me, how were the Cloud kunoichi?"
"Extraordinary!" Jiraiya boomed, leaning down conspiratorially. "Strong and fierce, but their skin is still somehow so soft. A fascinating contrast."
"And the Land of Wood?"
"Lovely place. Very rustic. The women there have an earthy charm."
"Land of Vegetables?"
"Like a farm town," he said with a wink. "Full of beautiful, bored wives cheating on their husbands. A goldmine for research!"
"And what about Konoha?" I asked, looking down at the steamy pools below. "How does it stack up?"
Jiraiya grew quiet for a moment, a rare, sentimental look on his face. "Ah, Konoha… there's nothing quite like it. It has a charm of familiarity. It's home."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, two peeping toms enjoying the view. It was our little ritual.
Then, I felt a spike of killing intent that had absolutely nothing to do with the legendary Sannin next to me.
"JUDAI!"
My blood ran cold. I glanced down and saw Machi standing at the base of the tree, her entire body radiating pure, unholy rage. She was pointing up at me, her hand shaking.
Before I could even react, Jiraiya vanished. One moment he was there, the next, just a rustle of leaves. The bastard had abandoned me.
"YOU PERVERTED, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING, DANGO-BRAINED DEGENERATE! I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU!"
I didn't wait for a second invitation. I leaped from the branch, hit the ground running, and didn't look back. For the next hour, the citizens of Konoha were treated to a spectacle: a terrified boy fleeing for his life, pursued by a screaming, pink-purple-haired demon of vengeance. It was, all things considered, a pretty normal Tuesday.