Naruto: The Sarutobi Who Can't Spark

In the years leading up to the Third Shinobi World War, the Hidden Leaf Village—like many others across the Elemental Nations—accelerated the graduation of Academy students, driven by the looming threats of conflict. The increasing demand for shinobi, fueled by fragile alliances and simmering hostilities, created a ruthless pipeline where children were molded into soldiers before they could even grasp the weight of their headbands.

Even after the war's uneasy conclusion, the practice persisted. The villages, obsessed with maintaining military strength, continued to push children through accelerated programs, valuing quantity over the fragile quality of youth. The war had normalized the abnormal, turning what was once an emergency measure into now like a standard protocol.

During the war, the battlefield became a survival often hinged on instinct rather than skill. Young Genin, barely out of the Academy, found themselves thrust into life-or-death missions, their hands stained with the consequences of decisions no child should have to make. The Elemental Nations became graveyards of forgotten potential, littered with the names of those who never lived long enough to become legends.

Progenies like Kakashi Hatake, who rose to the rank of Chūnin at just six years old, were hailed as shining examples of genius and prowess. But Kakashi was an anomaly—a brilliant exception and an outlier. For the vast majority, the reality was far bleaker. The emotional and psychological toll of early exposure to war left scars deeper than any kunai could carve. Countless lives were extinguished before their potential could bloom, their stories reduced to brief mentions in mission reports, their sacrifices forgotten by all but those who fought beside them.

One incident remained seared into the mind of the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, even long after the war.

A team of newly minted Genin, the eldest no older than ten, had been dispatched on what was classified as a routine C-rank mission—escorting a merchant caravan through the borderlands. Despite their stellar performance in the Academy, the reality was a battlefield no exam could truly prepare them for.

Ambushed by a group of bandits, the Genin's theoretical knowledge of Jutsu proved insufficient. Though their chakra control was commendable and their Taijutsu well-drilled, they faltered in the face of true, lethal combat.

Two of the children froze, paralyzed by fear as kunai flew and blood was spilled. The third tried to protect them, but their bravery was met with a swift, fatal blow. The aftermath was grim—one child dead, the other two left with injuries so severe that their shinobi careers were effectively over before they had even begun.

This tragedy, which occurred after the war's official end, highlighted a truth the village had long ignored: no amount of training could substitute for the resilience forged through experience—and forcing that experience too soon could shatter fragile minds beyond repair.

The incident compelled Hiruzen to reform the Academy's curriculum, mission assignment protocols, and treatment of young shinobi. It was a painful lesson carved into the annals of the Hidden Leaf with the blood of its children.

Conducted research confirmed what Hiruzen had long suspected: while younger graduates often excelled in the controlled environment of the Academy, they struggled with the complexities of real missions. Their developing minds lacked the emotional resilience and decision-making capabilities required for the battlefield.

After months of deliberation, Hiruzen made a decisive ruling: no student would graduate from the Academy before the age of eleven.

Though there was initial dissent, Hokage's decision stood firm. With the new policy set to take effect the following year, the Academy adjusted its curriculum to accommodate a longer training period, ensuring that students received proper mentoring. Even the current batch set to graduate next year would benefit from enhanced guidance.

While some parents grumbled, the promise of producing more capable and mentally prepared shinobi gradually shifted opinions. In time, the village would see whether this change would truly strengthen the next generation. For now, Hiruzen allowed one final exception for early graduation which was this year.

Today, in Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi sat quietly, his pipe resting between his fingers as tendrils of smoke curled through the morning air. The sweet scent of tobacco mingled with the crisp breeze drifting in through the open window, but his mind was far from idle.

Before him lay an important task—the careful assignment of Jōnin instructors to this year's Academy graduates. And beside him stood Shikaku Nara, his trusted advisor, watching as the Hokage flipped through the neatly stacked files.

These documents contained the names, records, and evaluations of the newly graduated Genin—twenty from the standard six-year program, four from the fifth year, two from the fourth, and a single prodigy from the third. There were a total of twenty-seven new shinobi, forming nine three-man cells.

Hiruzen exhaled slowly, lifting a particular file. "This year's graduates show promise," he mused, scanning the names and notes.

Shikaku gave a lazy nod, his eyes half-lidded. "Lord Third, the challenge wasn't just matching their skills—it was balancing their personalities and potential. But as you can see, the assignments are done."

Hiruzen nodded thoughtfully. With Shikaku's guidance, he carefully analyzed each student, ensuring their teams were structured not only for growth but also for survival. Technical skill alone would not protect these young shinobi in the field; their ability to work together and trust in one another could mean the difference between life and death.

Though the Genin teams had been assigned, Hiruzen insisted on one final layer of scrutiny. The stakes were too high to rely solely on written reports. He had summoned the Academy instructors to hear their firsthand assessments, to ensure the team compositions would nurture not just strong shinobi, but well-rounded individuals. After all, these children weren't just future warriors—they were the future of Konoha, and their growth would shape the village's destiny for years to come.

Just as Shikaku was about to continue, the door creaked open with a faint, deliberate sound. A cold draft slipped in, carrying the subtle weight of authority—an unmistakable shift that only one man's presence could command.

Danzo Shimura entered, his cane tapping softly against the wooden floor, rhythmic yet somehow intrusive in the thick silence that followed. His face was as unreadable as ever, the shadows from the lanterns casting sharp lines across the bandages that concealed more than just scars. His lone, visible eye—piercing and calculating—swept over the room with quiet scrutiny.

Shikaku paused mid-sentence, recalculating the implications of Danzo's arrival. His gaze flicked toward Hiruzen, silently asking if he should excuse himself. But the Third Hokage gave the slightest shake of his head. Stay, his eyes seemed to say.

Internally, Hiruzen frowned. His jaw tightened ever so slightly around the stem of his pipe, though his face remained calm. Danzo's not one to waste time… so why now? He hadn't even attended Itachi Uchiha's graduation, only expressing interest after the boy's prodigious talent became impossible to ignore. But this seemed different. This was calculated.

Without waiting for acknowledgment, Danzo moved with measured steps to an empty seat at the end of the table; opposite to Hokage's seat, his posture rigid. His gaze settled briefly on Shikaku before shifting to Hiruzen.

"Hokage," Danzo began, his voice low and deliberate, pressed with weight. "Given the growing tensions with neighboring villages, it would be prudent to ensure our most promising Genin are placed under Jōnin capable of shaping them into weapons Konoha can depend on."

Shikaku's brow quirked slightly at the word weapon, but he remained silent.

Hiruzen exhaled softly, setting his pipe aside. "I'm well aware of the current situation, Danzo. But our objective is not to create weapons. We foster shinobi—individuals who can adapt, lead, and protect, not just prepare them for war and follow orders blindly."

Danzo's expression remained impassive, though the faintest narrowing of his eye didn't go unnoticed. "Growth without discipline is a luxury we cannot afford. Potential left unchecked becomes a liability. Control ensures stability."

Hiruzen's gaze sharpened. "Control without trust breeds rebellion."

Danzo leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping once against his cane. "Sentiment has no place in the survival of a village."

"And yet, it's what keeps us from becoming the very thing we fight against," Hiruzen replied, his tone quieter but edged with steel.

A brief silence settled.

"Today's meeting concerns team formation with the Academy instructors," Hiruzen added, his voice carrying a firm edge. "The assignment of Jōnin will be determined separately, through a process that considers more than just tactical efficiency."

Danzo rose smoothly, his cane tapping once more against the floor—a softer sound now, but no less pointed. "As you wish, Hokage," he said coldly.

As he reached the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder just enough for his words to carry back: "Sentiment clouds judgment, Hiruzen. Remember that."

With that, he left, the door closing with a soft but definitive thud.

Shikaku let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, exchanging a glance with Hiruzen. The old Hokage picked up his pipe again, his fingers lingering on its surface as if grounding himself.

The office door creaked open again as the Academy instructors filed in, gathering around the wooden table at the center of the room. Scrolls, reports, and evaluations were neatly arranged before them.

Ignoring Danzo's parting words, the Hiruzen turned his attention back to the incoming instructors, his expression softening as he resumed the matter at hand.

"Thank you all for gathering," Hiruzen said, his voice steady and measured, the familiar pipe resting between his fingers. "We're here today to finalize the assignments for this year's graduating Genin. Let's keep the discussion concise, but thorough—these decisions will shape the future of our village."

A hum of agreement moved through the room as the instructors straightened, their expressions focused. Hiruzen briefly scanned the scroll, its contents detailing the Academy's evaluations.

"This year's class brings a mix of potential—some promising, others younger, but showing remarkable maturity. This presents both a challenge and an opportunity. The formation of these teams is a crucial step in their development. I trust you all will share your thoughts—your insights are invaluable." He allowed the words to linger in the air, his gaze sweeping across the room.

The weight of their decisions was not lost on anyone present. Their choices today would not only determine the strength of Konoha's next generation but would shape the village's very survival.

Only Shikaku and the Hiruzen knew the unspoken truth—the teams had already been tentatively assigned. Now, only the finishing touches remained.

"Let's proceed."

+++

A gentle knock at the door interrupted Hiruzen contemplation over the Academy instructors' suggestion. "Enter," he called out, and nine Jōnin filed into the office, each standing at attention before Hiruzen and Shikaku Nara.

Among them were veterans and younger Jōnin who had proven themselves worthy of taking on students.

"Thank you all for coming," the Hokage began, rising from his chair. "As you know, the day before yesterday marked the graduation ceremony at the Academy. Today, we assign the future of our village to your capable hands."

He lifted the first set of files. "Team 1 will be led by Asuma Sarutobi." A tall man with brown eyes, olive skin, short black spiky hair, and a beard stepped forward, his laid-back expression betraying little of the tension beneath. "Your team consists of Inomatsu…"

The relationship between Hiruzen Sarutobi and his son, Asuma, was distant and strained. Hiruzen, as the Third Hokage, prioritized the village above all else, dedicating most of his time and energy to his leadership duties. This left little room for personal matters, including his relationship with his family.

Asuma, growing up in the shadow of such an esteemed figure, felt overshadowed and burdened by the expectations placed upon him as the Hokage's son. Seeking to forge his own path and escape his father's influence, he left Konoha for a time and joined the Twelve Guardian Ninja, an elite group hand-picked to protect the Land of Fire's Feudal Lord (Daimyō). This role earned Asuma a bounty of 35,000,000 Ryō.

This decision only deepened the rift between father and son. Hiruzen, while understanding Asuma's desire for independence, likely felt disappointed by his son's departure from the village. Asuma, in turn, resented the lack of emotional connection and the perceived prioritization of duty over family.

Their dynamic subtly shifted as Asuma returned to the village and agreed to take on the role of Jōnin sensei for Team 1. Though they still weren't openly close, there was a sense of unspoken understanding. Hiruzen, now an aging leader, saw Asuma's return as a quiet reconciliation.

Despite their strained relationship, Hiruzen acknowledged Asuma's strength and abilities as a shinobi. At the same time, Asuma, despite his personal feelings, also held a deep regard for his father's wisdom and leadership as Hokage.

The assignments continued, each Jōnin receiving their carefully selected trio of students.

"Team 9," the Hokage announced. "Will be led by Ryouka Naito."

"Your team includes Izumi Uchiha…"

Ryouka Naito, a relatively young but skilled Jōnin known for her balanced strength, nodded. "Understood, Hokage. I'll ensure they receive both guidance and the discipline they need."

As the last teams were assigned, the Hokage surveyed the assembled Jōnin and his son Asuma. "Remember, your role extends beyond teaching Jutsu and combat techniques. You're shaping the next generation of Konoha's protectors. Guide them, challenge them, but most importantly, help them understand what it truly means to be shinobi of the Hidden Leaf."

The Jōnin bowed in unison, accepting their new responsibilities with appropriate gravity. As they filed out of the office, each clutching their students' files, the Hokage returned to his seat with a satisfied sigh.

"Do you think we matched them well?" he asked Shikaku, who had remained silent throughout the proceedings.

Shikaku Nara spent the whole night analyzing the graduates' strengths, weaknesses, and personalities to create balanced teams that could grow together. Later in the morning, Hiruzen reviewed the arrangements and tweaked a few with the advice of class instructors and his understanding.

"The combinations are logical…" Shikaku replied, his characteristic analytical tone tinged with amusement. "But Lord Third, you know as well as I do that how these teams actually turn out will be anything but predictable. That's what makes it interesting."

The Hokage chuckled, "Indeed…"

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