Bab 19: Chapter 19: A New Beginning

The weight of the Sunagakure headband on Hiroshi's forehead felt surreal as he walked back home. His steps were slow, not from fatigue but from the gravity of what had just transpired. He was a genin now, skipping years of academy training, thrown into a world he'd only seen from the edges. The Kazekage's words still echoed in his mind, carrying a mix of expectation and challenge that settled deep into his chest.

As he neared his home, the familiar scent of lentil stew wafted through the air, grounding him. It was a smell that spoke of stability, of the ordinary life he was now leaving behind.

Hiroshi paused at the door, gripping the headband in his hand. His promotion was an achievement, but he wasn't sure how his parents would react. Pride? Worry? Both? He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

---

Kokoro was humming softly as she stirred the pot, her faded scarf tied neatly around her hair. When she turned and saw him standing there, her eyes went immediately to the headband tied around his forehead. The wooden spoon in her hand faltered, clattering against the pot.

"Hiroshi…" she said softly, her voice caught between astonishment and apprehension.

Hachirou, sitting at the low table checking over his ledger, glanced up. His eyes widened ever so slightly before his brow furrowed. He set the ledger down with deliberate care.

"You're a genin?" Hachirou asked, his voice even but tinged with disbelief.

Hiroshi nodded, stepping fully into the room and placing the headband on the table. "Yes. The Kazekage promoted me today."

There was a brief, heavy silence. Kokoro walked over, wiping her hands on her apron, and sat down beside Hachirou. Her gaze flickered between the headband and her son's face.

"You're still a child," she said finally, her tone laced with concern.

"I know," Hiroshi replied, keeping his voice steady. "But the Kazekage believes I'm ready."

Hachirou leaned back, crossing his arms. "What did you do to convince him of that?"

Hiroshi hesitated. "It's… complicated. It wasn't just about combat skills or grades. It's because of the work I've been doing outside the academy."

Kokoro's eyes narrowed. "The work with Nakamura-sensei?"

Hiroshi nodded, suddenly feeling like he was under more scrutiny than he'd faced during the Kazekage's questioning.

----

"You've been spending so much time with that man," Kokoro said, her voice tightening. "What exactly has he been teaching you? Puppets? Mechanics? Or how to throw yourself into danger before you're even old enough to understand what you're risking?"

Hiroshi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden edge in her tone. "It's not like that, Mother. I've been learning a lot—about engineering, about puppetry… I'm contributing to the village. Isn't that what you've always wanted for me?"

Kokoro sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. "I wanted you to have opportunities, Hiroshi. To grow up safe and strong. Not to be sent into the desert to fight and kill before you've even had a chance to live."

Hachirou, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "That's the life of a shinobi, Kokoro. You know that as well as I do."

"And you're okay with this?" Kokoro snapped, turning to him. "He's six years old, Hachirou!"

Hachirou's jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. "He's a genius, Kokoro. You've seen it as much as I have. The village is recognizing it now, and we can't stand in the way of that. He's not like other children."

Kokoro stood abruptly, turning away from them both. "Genius or not, he's still my son."

Hiroshi stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say. His father met his gaze, giving him a small, approving nod, while his mother remained at the window, her shoulders tense.

---

Later that evening, Kokoro found Hiroshi sitting in his room, tinkering with a small mechanism. She sat beside him silently, watching his hands move with practiced precision.

"I'm proud of you," she said softly.

Hiroshi paused, glancing up at her.

"But I'm scared too," she admitted, her voice wavering. "Every time I see that headband, I'll wonder if you'll come home at the end of the day."

Hiroshi set the mechanism down and reached for her hand. "I'll be careful, Mother. I promise."

She squeezed his hand tightly, her eyes filled with both love and fear.

---

As the morning sun rose, Hiroshi tied the headband around his forehead with a newfound determination. His parents' mixed reactions had left him with much to think about, but he knew he couldn't let their worries hold him back.

He set off early, navigating the winding streets of Sunagakure toward his new training grounds. The excitement of being promoted to genin had been tempered by the knowledge that he was stepping into a program designed to forge elite puppeteer ninjas.

---

Hiroshi eventually reached his destination: a rundown building on the outskirts of the village. The structure stood alone, its faded walls cracked and weathered by the harsh desert climate. Its isolation from the bustling heart of Sunagakure was a stark reminder of the village's economic state—especially after the war.

He wasn't surprised by the condition of the building; he had expected as much. Still, he couldn't help but pause and take in its worn, decrepit appearance.

"Figures," he muttered, brushing sand off his sleeve before stepping inside.

To his surprise, the interior was in far better shape. The wooden floors, though scuffed, were polished and clean. Walls bore fresh coats of muted paint, and shelves lined one side of the room, stocked with tools, puppet components, and scrolls. The air smelled faintly of oil and metal, a familiar scent that made him feel oddly at ease.

At the center of the room, four genin stood in pairs.

---

The first pair—two boys—were in the middle of a quiet but animated conversation. The taller one, with messy black hair and narrow, calculating eyes, leaned casually against a wall. His companion, shorter and more energetic, gestured wildly as he spoke, his spiky brown hair bobbing with every movement.

The second pair consisted of two girls. The first, a lean, silver-haired girl with a sharp gaze, stood with her arms crossed, her expression cool and confident. Her companion, a round-faced girl with curly auburn hair, nodded nervously, casting occasional glances at Hiroshi.

None of them paid much attention to him as he quietly moved to an empty corner. He set down his bag and observed, noting their relaxed camaraderie.

---

The room began to fill as more genin trickled in. Hiroshi remained silent, preferring to keep to himself. Then, the door opened again, and Sasori walked in.

Sasori's red hair was unmistakable, catching the light as he strode into the room with calm precision. His pale face bore an unreadable expression, his steps deliberate. Hiroshi watched him for a moment, curious about the boy whose reputation had already reached him.

Sasori's eyes briefly scanned the room, landing on Hiroshi for just a second before moving on. Without a word, Sasori moved to a far corner and leaned against the wall, seemingly unbothered by the gathering chatter.

---

A loud creak echoed through the room as the double doors swung open, silencing the scattered conversations. Daigo entered first, his commanding presence immediately drawing attention. His sharp eyes swept across the room, his expression stern. Behind him, Hikari followed, her composed demeanor a contrast to Daigo's intensity.

"Line up," Daigo ordered, his voice firm and authoritative.

The genin quickly scrambled into position. Hiroshi found himself standing next to the auburn-haired girl, who gave him a quick, nervous glance before fixing her gaze forward.

---

Hikari stepped forward, her sharp eyes scanning the group. "Welcome to Project Akira," she began. Her tone was calm but firm, exuding quiet authority. "This program will last one year, during which you will train to become part of Sunagakure's Puppet Brigade—our village's elite puppeteer division."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the group.

"Your progress will be evaluated and ranked, but these ranks are not the same as ninja ranks. While ninja ranks—genin, chunin, jonin—reflect general aptitude, our puppeteer ranks are tailored to your craft. They assess your skill as a puppeteer, both in combat and creativity."

She gestured toward a scroll Daigo unrolled, displaying the rankings:

Apprentice – Entry-level puppeteers with basic skills.

Specialist – Those with a solid foundation in puppet combat and mechanics.

Operator – Skilled puppeteers capable of advanced strategies and designs.

Captain – Elite puppeteers with leadership skills, often assigned teams or complex missions.

Commander – Masters of the art, leading the Puppet Brigade and innovating its techniques.

"To reach Captain," Hikari continued, "is to prove your worth. Only those who achieve this rank will join the Puppet Brigade. Additionally, those who excel will be given opportunities to learn advanced jutsu and techniques exclusive to the brigade."

---

Daigo stepped forward, holding another scroll. "Before we begin, your preliminary rankings have been assessed based on past performances, aptitude, and evaluations. These ranks will determine your starting point but are subject to change as you progress."

He began reading aloud.

Most names were followed by "Apprentice," as expected. Reactions varied—some genin nodded determinedly, while others frowned.

When Hiroshi's name was called with "Specialist," a ripple of surprise swept through the room.

"Specialist?" one boy whispered, eyeing Hiroshi skeptically. "Isn't he just a kid?"

Hiroshi ignored the whispers, his expression calm.

Finally, Daigo called out, "Sasori… Operator."

The murmurs grew louder. Sasori's high rank was both surprising and expected, given his reputation. Most of the genin nodded in reluctant acceptance, though a few looked uneasy.

The silver-haired girl muttered, "Figures. He's Chiyo's grandson, after all."

Sasori, however, remained unfazed, his expression as blank as ever.

Daigo's sharp voice cut through the noise. "These ranks are earned, not given. If you want to climb, prove yourselves."