Team Eleven entered the mission distribution office. Menma walked confidently in the lead, while the others—Naruko, Karin, and Yamato—halted in unison behind him, like a trio of casually placed statues.
"Good afternoon, Sato-san," Menma inclined his head politely, a calm smile stretched across his face. "Team Eleven has come for a mission."
Sato, a perpetually grim woman gave him a look as if she were inspecting produce at the market. Her eyes slid toward Yamato. The jonin stood in the corner, hands behind his back, strict and silent, like an examiner. One short nod—and Sato begrudgingly acknowledged Menma's right to speak.
[Today's my turn to show I've learned how shinobi work. Let's see if I can play the model ninja.]
"Go on, pick," she muttered, dropping a box full of D-rank mission scrolls onto the desk with a dull thud. Without sparing them another glance, Sato returned to her paperwork.
Menma leaned over the box. A mountain of scrolls was piled on top, as if the villagers had competed to bury the young ninja under pointless chores.
"They seem to multiply every day," he murmured, sifting through them.
"They always do," Sato replied flatly, eyes never leaving her papers. "Every graduating class produces dozens of fresh genin. And the villagers are more than happy to dump their dirty work on them for pocket change."
[Mmh… explains why 'cleaning' almost always means 'scrape filth off a mansion that's been a cockroach nest for ten years.']
Menma sorted the scrolls quickly and deftly, eyes instantly filtering out cheapskates trying to pay ramen money for cleaning an entire block. Sato didn't interfere. The room felt lazily calm. Shinobi shuffled impatiently outside the door, but in here time seemed to stall.
"Oh, another mission to find the Daimyo's wife's cat?" Menma lifted a scroll, feigning genuine astonishment. "But I already found her a couple of days ago."
"Then she's lost again," Sato said dryly, stamping another paper. "Will you take it?"
"Of course." The corner of Menma's lips twitched into his familiar half-sarcastic smirk. "Can't possibly abandon a poor woman without her fluffy treasure."
Naruko snorted with laughter but instantly froze under Yamato's heavy gaze, clapping a hand over her mouth and putting on a repentant face.
Outside, the air felt fresher, lighter.
"Well?" Menma squinted at the sun, looking at their teacher.
"Good," Yamato nodded, as though ticking a box in his mental report. "You already understand how the system works. I'm satisfied with Karin's progress. As for Naruko…" His voice sharpened as he paused. "I order you to take missions only together with your brother."
"I'm shocked!" Naruko pressed a hand to her chest, pulling a tragic face. "Sensei, have I ever ruined a mission?"
"No," Yamato replied calmly. "But only because your brother finished them before you could open your mouth."
"Brutal!" Naruko clutched her head theatrically. "Yamato-sensei, you're breaking my tender heart!"
Neither Menma nor Karin even reacted.
"I think you've already learned all you need about taking and submitting missions," Yamato continued, ignoring Naruko's pantomime. "So this will be your last D-rank mission."
"What?!" Karin nearly choked on air. "But we've only been doing this for ten days!" She exhaled loudly and muttered under her breath, "I'm not ready for serious assignments yet…"
"Don't worry, Karin." Yamato gave her a gentle smile. "I remember your situation. For now there won't be any C-rank missions. I believe you've mastered the bureaucratic side of the work, and the remaining time is better spent on training."
"Really?" Menma couldn't hide his joy, his voice a mix of surprise and relief. "Do other teams do that too?"
"It depends on the commander," Yamato explained. "They say Guy's team used to take five D-rank missions a day. Personally, I don't see the point. Speed doesn't bring any bonus, and the reward is laughable."
"That's Bushy Brows for you," Naruko waved her arms as if pointing out the obvious. "His brain melted again under the power of youth. Or," she shrugged, "he was competing with Kakashi."
"Could be," Yamato didn't argue. His gaze shifted back to Menma. "Did you find the cat?"
"One second." Menma closed his eyes, focusing. His chakra sensed the familiar little spark of life. "In the park. Lying on the grass, sunbathing."
"Then let's go," Yamato said. "The sooner we finish, the less time we waste in line submitting the report."
"W-wait," Karin spoke up timidly, fidgeting with her sleeve, eyes darting around. "Maybe… maybe we should let the cat enjoy some more freedom? Last time, when we returned her to her owner, she looked so miserable…"
This time no one objected. Even Naruko, usually ready to argue with anything, just shrugged.
"Alright," Yamato said. "Let her bask in the sun a bit longer."
The team strolled toward the park at an unhurried pace, as if they were slowly letting go of the D-rank era.
///
Yamato kept his word. After that last time at the mission desk, Team Eleven was no longer sent crawling through basements and gardens for a handful of ryō. Instead, their freed-up hours were put to far better use: running enemy encounter scenarios.
These weren't boring lectures but full-on "theatrical performances" on the training grounds. Yamato calmly and methodically demonstrated his arsenal—ranging from simple wooden restraints to elaborate traps that could sprout right from under one's feet. That way, his students knew exactly what to expect from their sensei in a real fight.
The twins responded in kind, hiding nothing. Menma showed seal chains and the use of fūinjutsu in combat, while Naruko displayed speed and clever feints with clones. Karin observed, analyzed, and peppered them with questions, trying to absorb everything at once.
[When Kakashi first revealed his Sharingan against Zabuza, the kids gasped in surprise. In reality, that was just flashy showboating. Surprises in battle are a luxury. A true team should know each other's arsenal beforehand. Otherwise, they're not comrades—they're just a crowd.]
After another round of training, the Uzumaki trio headed to Ichiraku. Evening light slipped under the canvas awning, gilding the wooden stools and gleaming off the pots.
"Two Uzuramen?" Ayame asked, as usual, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Three," Karin corrected, firmly planting her elbows on the counter.
"That's the spirit!" Naruko slapped her on the back with a grin. "You're an Uzumaki. Which means Uzuramen is like life-giving water for you."
Ayame shuddered. Just looking at that bubbling bowl of spice, hot enough to melt the plate, was enough to make her faint.
Karin had worn the same face at first, but after Menma explained that the dish greatly boosted resistance to poison, she forced it down through tears.
[She'll get used to it eventually, maybe even start enjoying it. I did.]
"Order received," Teuchi nodded warmly, already grilling mouthwatering slices of pork. "Three Uzuramen coming right up."
The smell of broth and sizzling meat filled the stand just as a small boy of about eight squeezed under the canvas. Shorts, a plain T-shirt, and a ridiculously long scarf dragging along the ground. In burst Konohamaru—the Hokage's grandson, self-proclaimed future Hokage, and a perpetual headache for anyone unlucky enough to cross his path.
Menma barely suppressed a groan. Once, the old man had personally introduced the twins to his grandson, and since that day the boy had clung to them like glue—especially to Naruko.
"Naruko-chan!" Konohamaru's cheeks lit up bright red. He puffed them out, trying to look serious, and dramatically pointed a finger at her. "Go on a date with me!"
[My sister's a magnet for weirdos. Rock Lee blew her kisses. Sai always gives that cryptic smile whenever she walks by. And now this brat. What on earth do they all see in my sister?]
Naruko turned to him slowly, eyes glinting mischievously. Her gaze slid down to his scarf, the end dragging on the ground, already decorated with dust, leaves, and even a couple of brown "gifts" from dogs.
"Konohamaru, you're simply irresistible in that scarf," she purred like a cat. "I'd love to go on a date with you… but alas, my heart is already taken. It belongs to Akamaru."
Menma snapped his head away and clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Beside him, Karin buried her face in his shoulder, shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles.
"W-what?" Konohamaru blinked, then suddenly grabbed a fork off the counter and brandished it like a dagger. "Who is this Akamaru?!"
"Ah, Akamaru…" Naruko rolled her eyes dreamily. "He's my classmate."
"Is he strong?!" the boy blurted, gripping the fork as if ready to challenge him to a duel right then and there.
"Very," Naruko nodded solemnly. "So strong, they let him graduate from the Academy without even taking the exam."
[Heh. Not a word of a lie. But the way she framed it—ouch.]
"Uh…" Konohamaru deflated. The fork trembled in his hand. He must've realized this rival could not only dodge a fork strike but also take it away and shove it somewhere unpleasant. "Is he handsome?"
Konohamaru straightened his shoulders, clearly convinced of his own charm.
"Akamaru is the cutest boy in the entire Academy!" Naruko's voice overflowed with adoration. "On the very first day, the girls even fought over who got to cuddle him first."
Tears welled up in Konohamaru's eyes. He glanced at his reflection in the fork, at his gap-toothed smile—and wilted completely.
"Uwaaaah!" he bawled, finally bursting into tears and running off, utterly defeated by a puppy.
Naruko smiled in satisfaction—the predatory smile of a cat that had just licked all the cream.
"What a funny little fool," Karin remarked, pushing her glasses up her nose.
"That's the Hokage's grandson," Menma explained lazily.
"Oh!" Karin instantly clapped her hands over her mouth. "I didn't mean anything bad! I… I just…"
"It's fine, Karin-chan." Naruko gave her a gentle smile. "Even if he's the Hokage's grandson, that doesn't stop him from being a fool."
///
"I can't take it anymore!" Karin was practically drowning in complaints as she moved on her hands across the training field. A seal tag was stuck to her legs, multiplying their weight several times over. "My arms are about to fall off!"
"If you've got enough breath to whine, you've got strength left," Menma said dryly, walking slightly ahead—also on his hands.
"These are real Bushy-Brow-style workouts!" Naruko, balancing with surprising ease, flashed a grin. "Only through hard work can you truly grow and increase your chakra reserves."
"You said the same thing about studying," Karin groaned. "And now I'm swallowing a book a day like they're made of rice!"
"Still not enough," Menma cut her off, not even breaking rhythm. "The body and the mind have to develop together. One without the other is useless."
Karin tried to speed up, but her arms trembled harder and harder.
"Ah!" she cried, collapsing awkwardly onto her side. Her wrist bent at a wrong angle. "It hurts! I… I need a hospital!"
The twins simultaneously stripped off their weighted tags and rolled onto their feet. In an instant they were beside her. No doubt about it: a fracture. They'd earned plenty of those during their first insane trainings with Guy—back then, only Kurama's regeneration had saved them. Now, they had another method.
"Hold still," Menma said curtly.
He and Naruko exchanged a quick look, then suddenly pressed her head back and forced her mouth open. Before Karin could process what was happening, they spat straight into her throat.
"Ugh!" she gagged.
At once, green chakra flared, wrapping her body in a soft glow. The pain vanished, the fracture knit, the skin smoothed over.
Karin froze, eyes wide.
"What you just did…" her voice shook. She sat up slowly, clutching her throat. "You… you stole my first kiss!"
[Oh, Shinigami… another one with that obsession over the 'sacred first kiss.' Kunoichi would die before letting go of that ridiculous symbolism.]
"Think of it as a unique experience," Naruko said serenely, smiling. "Who else gets their first kiss with two people at once?"
"No one will marry me now!" Karin cried in horror, clutching her head as tears welled up.
The twins exchanged a glance. Saving her from pain and a hospital trip, they'd expected many reactions—but definitely not a tragic soap opera scene.
"Look at your arms," Menma said calmly, but with an edge of coldness.
Reluctantly, Karin rolled up her sleeves. For a moment she stopped breathing. Then she yanked the fabric higher—up to her shoulders.
"The scars…" her voice broke. "They're… gone."
Her skin was clear. No trace of the ugly bite marks left from Grass. The very scars that had killed her mother.
"They disappeared," Karin stared at her arms like she was seeing them for the first time. "But… the doctors said… it was impossible."
"Then we're better than your doctors," Menma snorted. "Either way, that's one less painful memory for you to carry."
Karin froze—then suddenly burst into tears again, but this time from joy.
"Thank you!" she cried, and without thinking threw herself into the twins' arms. She planted a kiss on Menma's cheek, then on Naruko's. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
Menma and Naruko glanced at each other again—this time even more flustered.
[First we're thieves of her kiss, now we're objects of adoration. Honestly, figuring out her logic is harder than deciphering both Hiruzen's and Kurama's schemes at once.]