Shorai's transformation took time. The standard-issue ANBU uniform was a precision fit; the grey flak jacket and dark under-armor felt snug, yet they didn't obstruct his movements or hinder his newly refined chakra flow in any way.
He stepped back into the monitoring room, no longer a Genin candidate, but now an official ANBU trainee.
The two masked men glanced at their new squadmate. Beneath the blue-striped mask, Shorai looked different. His orange-tinted eyes were sharp, and his messy light-brown hair fell in tousled strands around his neck. The grey handguards felt foreign against his skin, a stark contrast to the weight of Ino's bracelet, which was now tucked away in his inventory scroll alongside his former life.
"I'm ready," Shorai said, his voice dropping into a lower, more disciplined register.
Boar gave a low whistle. "Well. That's a different face."
"It's a mask," Shorai said dryly.
"That's not what I meant," Boar replied. "You look like you belong in a graveyard now."
Eagle snorted once, arms folded. "He looks like he's finally stopped pretending to be a child."
Shorai adjusted the collar of his uniform. "That's the idea."
Boar leaned back in his chair. "So? How does it feel?"
"Lighter," Shorai said. "And more honest."
Eagle's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he turned back to the monitors. "Good. Honesty is useful in our line of work. It keeps you alive."
Shorai stepped closer to the screens. "Did I miss anything?"
"Take a seat, Fox," Eagle said, gesturing to the console. "We're on watch. Get comfortable, but stay sharp."
"The Uchiha kid won," Boar said. "Barely. Ugly fight. He was half-broken and still managed to drag himself through it."
Shorai nodded, studying the feeds. "That sounds like him."
"You know him well?" Eagle asked.
"Enough to know he hates losing more than he hates pain."
Boar chuckled. "That's one way to describe an Uchiha."
Shorai scanned the three primary screens and the smaller auxiliary panels. The system monitored nearly every inch of the tower and the surrounding forest, though he noticed several blind spots in the training wings where the feeds had gone dark.
"Is the coverage always this spotty?" Shorai asked.
"Not usually," Eagle admitted. "The system is outdated. Boar added some Fuinjutsu anchors to stabilize the transmission, but security funds have been lacking lately."
"It makes you wonder who's skimming the budget," Boar groaned.
The conversation died down as the next names flickered across the electronic board in the arena.
"A lot of rookies made it this year," Eagle noted, his eyes on the screen. "That one's from the Sound."
"And his opponent is an Aburame," Boar added, leaning forward.
Shorai watched the screen for a moment before speaking. "What about Kabuto Yakushi? Have you checked his file?"
Eagle paused, his voice turning serious. "We did. On the surface, there's nothing out of the ordinary. But there are bizarre gaps in his records."
"Kabuto specifically?" Shorai pressed.
"The kid doesn't add up," Eagle replied. "He's failed the exams more times than I can count, usually disappearing at the exact same stage you did, Fox."
"That," Shorai said, "and the fact that he moves like someone who already knows where every camera is."
Eagle gave a slow nod. "We found the same kind of pattern. Not enough to accuse him of anything, but enough to make us uneasy."
"Uneasy is generous," Boar muttered. "The file stinks."
Shorai folded his arms. "What did you find?"
Eagle's voice lowered. "A thread. A very thin one. It points toward Root."
The word settled over the room like a blade set down between them.
Boar exhaled through his nose. "Of course it does."
Shorai didn't react outwardly, but his eyes sharpened. "That explains the gaps."
"It explains the gaps," Eagle agreed. "It doesn't explain the man."
"No," Shorai said. "But it explains why he feels wrong."
Boar glanced at him. "You say that like you've met worse."
"I have," Shorai replied.
That earned him a brief silence.
Then Boar snorted. "Right. Of course you have."
On the screen, the fight between Shino and Zaku was reaching its end.
"The Sound boy's done," Boar said, leaning forward. "He still thinks he can win with those arms?"
"His arms are the least of his problems," Shorai said.
Eagle looked at him. "You're confident."
"I'm observant."
"That's a polite way of saying you think the bug boy is going to eat him alive," Boar said, his voice tinged with amusement.
Shorai didn't deny it. "Shino is the kind of opponent people underestimate once. After that, they don't get a second chance."
Eagle's eyes remained on the screen. "The Aburame are dangerous."
"They're lethal," Shorai corrected. "Most people think chakra is something you throw. The Aburame treat it like a food source. That changes everything."
Boar gave a low hum. "You really do think like an ANBU already."
Shorai glanced at him. "That's because I'm sitting with two men in masks watching children fight to the death."
Boar barked a short laugh. Eagle didn't.
Then the match ended exactly as Shorai predicted.
Zaku's arms burst from the inside out, and the boy collapsed screaming.
Boar stared at the screen for a moment. "That was ugly."
"That was efficient," Eagle said.
Shorai's voice was flat. "That was Shino."
The next match came and went. Kankuro won with cold precision, his puppets moving like extensions of his own body. Then the board shifted again.
Boar tilted his head. "Ah. Your girlfriend's up."
"She is not my girlfriend. She is a close friend," Shorai corrected, his eyes narrowing behind the mask. "I don't know where you're getting that title."
Boar leaned back. "You keep saying that like it changes anything."
"It changes the meaning."
"Drop it, Boar. He's too young for your teasing," Eagle said, though he was clearly listening.
"Too young? Boys his age are already chasing girls," Boar countered. He looked at Shorai. "You're a man who's close with a woman. That's a girlfriend in my book."
Eagle briefly looked away from the monitors. "Boar, stop provoking him."
"I'm not provoking him. I'm educating him."
"You're embarrassing yourself," Eagle said.
"Then we need to clarify the terms, Boar-san," Shorai said, his voice suddenly sounding far older than his years. "In my book, that sounds like two people in an irresponsible, transient relationship. Exploitation for temporary benefits."
Eagle pulled his eyes away from the screens to glance at Boar again. "Hear that? The kid's got more sense than you, Lover-boy."
"Are you even into girls, Fox?" Boar asked, genuinely curious now. "Or are you just a late bloomer?"
Shorai crossed his arms. "For the record, I'm not interested in temporary attachments."
Boar blinked. "That sounded suspiciously like a lecture."
"It was."
"From a twelve-year-old."
"From someone with standards," Shorai said.
Eagle let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. "Go on, then. Enlighten us."
Shorai's gaze remained fixed on the screen where Ino and Sakura were preparing to fight. "A relationship is not a game; it's a status. If I tell a girl we're together, then I'm treating her as someone I intend to marry, not someone I'm passing time with. I follow a simple philosophy in situations like this: don't do to others what you wouldn't want done to you."
Boar blinked. "Who taught you that? Orphanage matrons? Or has Cat been filling your head with idealism?"
"Am I wrong?" Shorai asked calmly.
Boar stared at him. "That's either incredibly noble or incredibly terrifying."
"It's practical," Shorai said.
"Practical?" Boar repeated. "You're talking about marriage like it's a mission contract."
"It is a mission contract," Shorai replied. "Just one that lasts longer."
Eagle's shoulders shifted slightly. "That's... not entirely wrong."
Boar turned to him. "You're agreeing with him?"
"I'm saying he's not stupid," Eagle replied. "There's a difference."
Shorai continued, his tone calm and clinical. "People build relationships for different reasons. Some want security. Some want closeness. Some want gratitude or intimacy. If you can't provide those things, don't pretend you can. It's common for people to justify selfish actions with philosophy."
Boar rubbed the back of his neck. "You make it sound simple."
"It isn't simple," Shorai said. "It's just honest."
"Is she your first love?" Boar teased, trying to regain his footing, and stretched his voice into a low sing-song. "From the first day I saw her... I knew she was the one... she stared at my eyes and smiled..."
Boar's voice carried a strange melody through the monitoring room.
Shorai froze for the briefest instant.
The tune was familiar. Too familiar.
He didn't know why, only that it came from somewhere far away — somewhere that no longer existed.
"W-what was that?" Shorai felt a chill all of a sudden. "Where did you hear that...?"
"Just came to mind," Boar said with a dry laugh. "I'm quite a bard myself. But is she your first?"
"There is no such thing as love at first sight," Shorai replied without hesitation, carefully observing the teasing operative.
Boar hummed in thought. "You speak with a lot of confidence for a rookie. Don't offend Eagle-san over there; he's a romantic."
"You can laugh," Shorai said, "but the attraction people feel at first glance is just a biochemical reaction—a biological response to genetic criteria we aren't even conscious of. Love is built, not found. Not an emotion. It's an action. A persistent act that forms a positive habit."
"Whoa, okay, Professor," Boar laughed. "So, what's the status with the wild flower from the Yamanaka clan? You obviously care about her."
"We are dating," Shorai said flatly, his eyes narrowing.
"Dating?" Boar echoed. "You just said—"
"As I said relationships are a matter of status," Shorai interrupted. "Right now, she is a candidate I am learning to understand. We build a strong friendship first. There is no rush for intimacy."
Boar rubbed the back of his neck. "Best friends with your wife? That's a tall order, kid."
"A wife is the person you intend to share your life with," Shorai said. "Why wouldn't you want her to be your best friend? But there are nuances. A man provides safety, closeness, and gratitude. I don't dump my horrors on her; I solve the problems and ensure she is spared the anxiety. That is intellectual security."
"I've... actually been doing that without realizing it," Boar admitted, his voice quiet. Then he raised a hand as if in class. "Professor Fox! Professor Fox! Do men have the same nuances?"
"Of course. We want to be needed, to be free, and to be respected for who we are," Shorai said, as if fully stepping into the role of lecturer. "If both sides align, you have the strongest foundation."
"Sounds like a fantasy," Boar snorted, though his eyes showed he was impressed. "Women won't always agree to that."
"Perhaps you need to be honest with them first." Shorai shrugged.
Eagle gave a slow nod. "Should we start addressing you as an old-fox? Those are quite mature answers than I expected."
Boar pointed at him. "See? Even Eagle thinks you sound like an old man."
Shorai's mouth twitched. "Then perhaps I'm surrounded by children."
Boar laughed outright at that, and even Eagle's posture loosened by a fraction.
On the screen, the fight had changed. Ino and Sakura had abandoned their jutsu and were trading raw, desperate blows in taijutsu.
Shorai leaned in, the mask hiding his expression, but not the intensity in his eyes.
Boar noticed. "There he is."
Shorai didn't look away from the screen. "What?"
"The boy you keep pretending you aren't."