Note: I decided to use more first person pov for this story, and I didn't feel the need to change the first two chapters due to their simple explanation and foundation of this story. They weren't anything special. Little story about mcs past (that he himself doesn't know), little motivation, little trauma. Yk, the usual in naruto world.
——
Yuji's POV
Two days have passed.
Half my team is dead.
The leader—forced into retirement after the injuries.
I just finished submitting my report to the Hokage. Walking out of that building, the air felt heavy, like even the village itself was mourning. But no one really looked twice. Just another mission gone wrong. Just another team erased from the records.
I thought back to them one last time—the people I almost saw as a brother and sister. We fought together. Ate together. Laughed between missions like idiots.
Now they're just names carved into a stone.
Something in me shifted after that. I didn't break—no.
Breaking means you can still feel the pain.
It's more like something inside me just went quiet.
The noise—the fear, the guilt, the hope—it all dulled out.
I think my heart decided it had enough of caring.
Maybe it's a kind of survival instinct.
Because if you keep feeling everything, you don't last long in this world.
I still remember staring at their bodies when we brought them back. There should've been tears. Or anger. Or something.
But I just felt… empty.
Like my emotions were there, watching from a distance, refusing to come closer.
That emptiness—it didn't leave.
Instead, it started filling up with something else.
A drive. A hunger.
I don't even know when it started, but the thought kept echoing in my head: get stronger.
Not for revenge. Not to protect anyone.
Just for the sake of it.
For power itself.
Because in this world, weakness gets you nothing but graves and regrets.
Maybe it's wrong. Maybe it's the start of losing myself completely.
But right now, power feels like the only thing that makes sense.
The only thing that might keep me from ending up beside them.
Anyway.
On my way back to my apartment, I kept thinking about my talk with the Hokage after the debrief. That's when I asked him—to let me join the ANBU.
You'd think after everything, I'd run from the darker parts of this life.
But I can't.
Running means I'm still afraid.
I'd rather face the darkness head-on, even if it swallows me whole.
Two weeks from now, the ANBU trials begin.
That's all the time I've got to prepare.
——
I woke up at 6 a.m. sharp.
No alarm, just habit.
The morning routine went like always — shower, brush, dress, stretch. Movements without thought. Comfort in repetition.
At 7, an ANBU appeared at my door. Didn't say anything at first, just stood there. Probably here for the trial.
I closed the door behind me. His mask was a lion.
Without a word, he pressed a hand to my shoulder, and the world blurred.
Somewhere mid-shunshin, a bag dropped over my head. Didn't bother reacting. Darkness for maybe thirty seconds — or maybe more. Hard to tell. The ride stopped, and the air went still.
The bag came off. There was a plain metal door in front of me.
"Go in, change, come back, and go right," Lion said, voice flat, mechanical.
I went in.
Inside, a full ANBU set waited on a table — the armor, the gloves, the chest guard, the smell of steel and sweat.
Everything in perfect order. Cold and professional.
Only the mask was different — plain white, no animal. Just the number 7 carved where the eye line would be.
I put it on. It fit a little too well.
Stepping out, I followed the direction Lion gave me. A few others were already there, all in matching gear. White masks, numbers. Same quiet energy — everyone standing like they didn't want to be the first to breathe too loud.
A few minutes passed before another ANBU appeared. His mask was a fox. Something about the way he stood made everyone straighten up.
"Nineteen of you have requested to join the elite force of this village," he said, voice calm but sharp. "But I doubt even half of you will survive the trials."
Encouraging.
For a second, I thought his gaze lingered on me.
"The first trial begins now," he said. "Survive."
And then he was gone.
Five ANBU appeared where he'd stood. Each one armed with a tanto.
So that's how it starts.
The moment they moved, I shunshined away. A kunai sliced through the space where my head had been.
Bad start.
The training ground erupted into chaos — steel clashing, earth splitting, the hiss of shuriken cutting air.
I dodged a kick, blocked a punch, rolled under a swing. Someone launched a rock the size of my torso straight at me.
A rock. Really.
I was getting tired. My breathing stayed calm, but my muscles were screaming. I didn't stop.
Running alongside a wall, I saw another boulder flying my way. I let it crash — close enough to kick up a storm of debris. I used the smoke to henge into a chunk of rubble and sent three water clones scattering in different directions.
They'd draw attention. I'd disappear.
I focused on suppressing my chakra. Being a sensor helped — I could feel where the others were, where I wasn't. I slowed my breathing until it matched the stillness around me. The trick wasn't hiding your presence. It was becoming something no one thinks to look for.
Minutes passed. Footsteps faded.
Then the fox-masked ANBU reappeared, same calm tone. "The end."
I dropped the disguise and stood up.
Everyone froze. The examiners vanished like mist. We lined up in front of Fox — twelve of us left. The others were gone, taken quietly. No blood. No noise. Just gone.
"You'll have one hour to rest," Fox said. "Then the second trial begins. For the next week, you'll live in the Forest of Death. During that time, you will be hunted."
A week of being prey.
I nodded slightly. That was fine.
——
It wasn't fine.
It really wasn't.
Of course it had to rain during the trial. Cold sheets of rain that soaked through everything and turned the training ground into one long, slippery bruise. And the bugs—holy shit, the bugs. They were everywhere. Crawling in my hair, in my collar, under my gloves. If there's an Aburame somewhere messing with me, I'll find them and burn down wherever the fuck they keep those things.
They walked us back into the secret ANBU base, dripping and cursing and trying to wipe mud out of places you didn't want mud in. Seeing the other trial members helped a little. Misery shared is still misery, but at least I wasn't the only one whose week had been shredded.
One of the guys looked like he'd had a fight with a bear. His jacket was torn to ribbons, and he kept rubbing his ribs like they were trying to leave his body.
"Good morning, everyone." Fox said it like the sun had come up just for him. He sounded like he was smiling—too calm for the room full of exhausted people. "I had a good week's rest. Hope you did as well."
Right. Sure.
"Today, the third trial starts."
Today? Seriously?
"There are ten of you left," he went on. "Each of you will be assigned a mentor for one month. During that month you will train, ask questions, learn, and improve. At the end, your mentor will decide if you're ready to become ANBU."
Interesting. I wondered who I'd get.
"Remember," he said, voice clipped like paper being folded, "mentors will help those who ask. You won't be dragged along. If you don't show need, don't expect help."
The assignment was quick—numbers called out, masks shifted, hands pointed. When it hit my number, the mask that stepped forward was a cat.
She was taller than most ANBU, and her muscles were tight and dry, like wire. Scars mapped her forearms and the side of her neck—thin white lines that told stories without words. From the way she moved and the way she held herself, I figured assassin/close-combat specialist.
"Go wash up, eat, and report to Training Floor 67," she said without emotion. Her voice had no softness. It was the kind of voice that gets things done. "You train there for a month."
She turned and melted into the hallway before I could ask where Training Floor 67 even was.
——
End note: as you can see the style changed completely. To be honest, this is due to a fic I recently reread. You can probably quickly guess which one if you read it yourself.
But the story itself is completely different, so it's not a copy and past.