Bonus Chapter (017) - The Final Exam {PT. I} (Patreon)

KONOHA

“I am impressed,” we tell our newest associate.

“What’s there to be impressed about?” the Genin asked.

“How you managed to get Konoha to believe you were harmless of course. It’s blatantly obvious there is more than meets the eye about you. The adoptive son of a conveniently deceased medical ninja. A medical ninjutsu specialist in your own right, yet still, an utter failure as a shinobi. So much so that you earned yourself a rather comical moniker.

“Isn’t that right… Kabuto, the Eternal Genin?”

The covert operative chuckled. ‘Too outstanding?” he asked. We nodded.

“I myself am a big fan of yours, Uchiha-san. The aura of mystique that cloak your very name is in a word, Legendary. That is with a capital L. You won’t believe the stories about you that slither through the underbelly of the shinobi world… and yet I fear they might be grievous underestimations still.”

We ignored the probe, turning our gaze towards the full moon hanging in the sky above. “Orochimaru said he had something prepared for me?”

“That he did,” Kabuto replied tossing a scroll towards us. We caught it, Sharingan memorizing the contents before flickering out. Our chakra churned and the scroll went up in flames.

“When would the rest of the list be available?” we asked.

“It might take a while,” Kabuto replied. “Digging around for the names of operatives on the level of ROOT is not an easy task after all.”

We nodded at that. “Take your time. When you have it let me know. Let Orochimaru know I would be expecting further correspondence on this matter as well.”

“Well, I guess I am done here then,” the spy said. “Will you be taking care of clean up… or should I handle it.”

“No. No, I’ll do it.”

Kabuto smiled as we turned around to face the rapidly retreating chakra signature.

“Shunshin!”

We appeared directly in front of the fleeing Konoha-nin. “Proctor-san,” we said as we turned to face him.

“...Uchiha Sasuke,” the Jonin growled as he drew his blade. “You traitorous scum.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” we tell him. “Although now we feel bad. ANBU number five had always been our favourite; I doubt she would be all too pleased to hear you got yourself killed...

“Hayate.”