All the Bees 1 (Naruto) (Patreon)

All the Bees 1

Mitsu Akimitchi

“Honey Badger,” the old shit-flinger said. He spoke casually, yet there was always the undercurrent of lethal competence that never quite abated for as long as I’d known him.

“Hai, hokage-sama,” I said, taking a knee. The Third Hokage was exactly that, my kage. The genial, grandfatherly mask he wore around Naruto and Konohamaru was nowhere to be found.

“How long has it been since you joined the ANBU?”

“Six years, hokage-sama,” I replied dutifully, full well knowing he knew already. If he didn’t, he had my dossier on his desk in front of him.

“Remove your mask. I hereby dismiss you from the ANBU Corps.”

I complied like the good little child soldier that I was. I removed my mask and set it aside for one of the ANBU guards to take. It’s not as though I was fond of the mask anyway. My alias was “honey badger,” a play on my name.

I was born, reborn, Mitsu Akimichi, because mom wanted me to be “as sweet as honey.” Dad told me when he was drunk once that they thought I would be born a girl and by the time I was born, mom had grown too attached to the name to give me a more masculine one. So, “Honey” Akimichi, I was.

“You were inducted into the ANBU as a chunin at the age of fourteen,” the old man read, “Since then, you have completed twenty-two A-rank missions and nine S-rank missions, distinguishing yourself as an excellent shinobi in all fields.”

“Thank you, hokage-sama,” I replied carefully.

Truthfully, I was proud of my record. I’d failed, I was far from perfect, but never catastrophically. Though I was never made a captain, after six years in the ANBU, I was easily among the most veteran members.

I’d been everywhere. From assassinations to bodyguard missions, I’d done it all. Occasionally, when my missions permitted, I made sure to “accidentally” stumble on certain events and plot hooks I remembered from my past life, bringing back valuable intel for the village if not outright solving the problem.

“In light of your contribution to the village and the security of the Land of Fire, you are hereby promoted to the rank of jounin. Your records have been updated accordingly. Congratulations, Jounin Mitsu, it is a long overdue promotion.”

“Thank you, hokage-sama.”

“Your first mission in the regular shinobi forces is to pass on your extensive expertise as a jounin-sensei.”

I winced at that. I knew there was a catch; there was always a catch. “I request to rejoin ANBU.”

“Your request is heard, Jounin Mitsu, and summarily rejected,” the fucking shit-flinger said. He wasn’t even trying to hide his smug grin. “You possess both the skills and breadth of experience to excel in this role. Any genin team would be fortunate to receive your guidance.”

“I believe my skills would be best utilized on high-level missions for Konoha, hokage-sama. My reliance on the Akimichi clan techniques means there is a limited number of jutsu I can teach my genin. Further, this village can always use more high-level jounin to act publicly and attract new clients.”

“Don’t give me that. I know for a fact that you’ve also mastered water and earth release, along with a summoning contract. Though your skills in genjutsu could use some work, you remain well above the majority of chunin in that area as well. Even putting aside your clan techniques, there is plenty you can pass on to the next generation.

“As for becoming a famed jounin to attract business,” the Professor puffed at his pipe and stroked his beard. “There is truth in what you say. However, you need not be one of those jounin. I assure you, our finances are quite healthy.”

“I am inexperienced as a teacher. Surely a newly minted jounin is not your first choice, hokage-sama,” I said desperately.

“You are not the only new jounin to be tasked with a team. Just take a team. Provide a test. All I ask is that you offer them an honest chance to impress you.”

I sighed. Clearly, I wasn’t getting out of this one. “Hai, hokage-sama…”

X

I trudged into the classroom the following morning like a dead man walking. I loathed children. I’d resolved myself to never having kids in my previous life, even if it meant dying alone. Twenty years in the Elemental Nations had not changed my stance one iota.

“Team Four with me,” I grumbled. “Let’s get this over with.”

I could already hear the whispers. At five-one and built like a manju, I didn’t exactly cut an impressive figure. Frankly, I looked like I might roll faster than I walked. I’d inherited the Akimichi rotundness with none of the big-boned, well-muscled height of Uncle Choza. Charitably, I was “cute, fluffy, and dumpling-shaped.”

As an ANBU, my atypical size was an unexpected boon. “There is no such thing as an overweight ninja,” was a general truism and when my enemies saw a short, dumpling-shaped man in a badger mask, they tended to underestimate me.

But as a regular ninja in a room full of people I absolutely wasn’t allowed to murder? I didn’t exactly impress anyone.

I paid my students no mind. I didn’t give a damn what they looked like, or even whether they followed me or not. I had no intention of passing them anyway. The old shit-flinger said I had to give them an honest chance, and I would, but that didn’t mean this exam would be pleasant.

I took them to Training Ground Four, reserved for me for as long as I was a jounin-sensei. The space was a generic, grassy field, with only a wooden post to tell us we’d arrived.

“Alright, brats. Congratulations on graduating from the academy and all that jazz,” I grunted.

“Yeah! We did–” One of them started to shout, only for me to talk over them.

“Shut up. Sit down. I wasn’t done. What your academy sensei didn’t tell you is that graduating doesn’t mean you are entitled to a jounin-sensei. I get to test you and, if you are not good enough, I get to dump you morons into the genin corps.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Of course not. We’re ninja. You’re genin. That means you are disposable. Until you prove you shouldn’t be considered disposable, you will continue to be treated thusly.”

“Well, fine!” a second boy said. He stood and held out a hand, like a general commanding an army. It would have looked a lot more impressive if he wasn’t an overly dramatic twelve year old. “Bring it on then! We’ll show you we can be great ninja!”

I sighed. I really wasn’t cut out for this. It wasn’t that I disagreed with the shit-flinger. I was good enough to teach. Hell, if the quality of academy education was anything to go by, even a rank and file chunin would have valuable lessons worth passing down.

No, it was my social battery that was the issue. I was a misanthropic introvert at the best of times, with very few exceptions. But when it came to children, there was something about their exuberance that naturally sapped my social battery like nothing else. It felt like I’d tried to wrestle Gamabunta for a few hours.

Actually, that wasn’t true. I was an Akimichi and second only to Uncle Choza in our clan arts. I’d literally rather wrestle gangsta-frog for an hour.

Unfortunately, I lived in a dictatorship and the shit-flinging Stalin ordered that I try. So, it was time to implement my plan.

“You kids think you can hack it as my students, hmm?” I growled, allowing a hint of my killing intent to fill the training ground. Whatever they were going to say died in their throats as the pressure of a jounin weighed down on them.

I bit my thumb and leisurely ran through a string of hand seals before slamming my palm to the ground. A puff of smoke later, I had a wax, gourd-shaped object in my hand. It was a warm, honey-gold in color and sat three feet tall. I handed it to the mouthier of the two boys.

“What’s this, sensei?” he asked. “It’s pretty heavy.”

“I’m not your sensei yet, Brat #1. Your test is simple. From now until sundown, one of you must always be in constant possession of the gourd. You can throw it back and forth between yourselves, but if that gourd touches the ground for any reason, you collectively fail.”

“Wait, what if someone else drops the gourd? You’re going to fail all of us?”

“That’s what the word ‘collectively’ means, brat. Genin work in four-man cells for a reason. You either pass as a group or fail as a group.”

“O-Okay, what are the other rules?” the token girl asked. She was utterly plain, not even an anime hair color to make her stand out. Which probably meant she was one of Sasuke’s forgettable fangirls.

“You may not leave Training Ground Four. If even one of you steps a toe out of line, I will take that to mean you are resigning.”

“And since we pass as a group–”

“Correct. You all fail.”

“O-Okay! No problem! It’s just about four hours until sunset, right?”

“Right. Good luck, kids. Or, you know, fail. Please fail. I promise I’m not the jounin-sensei you want.”

That said, I vanished in a blur. I’d never be the fastest, not compared to the likes of Kakashi or Gai, but impressing a few genin was well within my abilities. I left a shadow clone to watch over them from the treeline and found myself a quiet place to meditate.

This was it. This was their one. As dictated by my kage, the exam would be passable. In fact, it didn’t require any particular skills at all. Technically, they would pass if they lay down on their backs side by side and laid the gourd on top of them. They could catch a four hour nap and make me look like a fool doing it.

Technically.

What I didn’t tell them was that my summoning contract was with the spirit bees and hornets of Seihachimori. My summons would never be the slug-it-out bruiser heavyweights that Gamabunta and Manda were, but they didn’t need to be. I was an Akimichi; I could take that role if necessary. No, much like normal bees, my summons specialized in production and swarm tactics.

The honey they made was laden with chakra. It was a highly coveted item both for its taste and its medicinal properties. It lifted my mother’s already fantastic bakery into legendary status in the village.

More importantly, said honey drew in the weaker, mundane bees like, well, bees to honey.

It didn’t take long for the screams to start. Indeed, the exam was passable. All they had to do was sit still and uncork the gourd, giving the bees access. Bees didn’t want to sting if they could help it. In fact, normal bees died when they stung anyone because their stingers were attached to their intestines and barbed to remain in the victim.

That obviously wasn’t what happened. My shadow clone watched them run around like headless chickens, desperately passing the hefty gourd between themselves.

Four hours? Fuck no, they didn’t even last five minutes.

X

My kage stared down at me with a tired sigh. Unlike previously, I was with the rest of my peers, my fellow jounin-sensei. “Jounin Mitsu.”

“Hokage-sama,” I said, as polite as ever. If there was the ever-so-slight hint of smug triumph in my tone, he couldn’t prove it.

“Why did you see fit to drown your students in bees?” That got a snort of laughter from my colleagues.

“Respectfully, I must disagree, hokage-sama. I gave them a gourd full of honey and told them to defend it until sundown.”

“Spirit honey.”

“Hai, hokage-sama.”

“From Seihachimori.”

“Hai.”

“You knew it would draw in every bee in the village.”

“Hai. In my defense…”

“Yes?”

“They were not drowning. I arranged the circumstances to ensure they had air,” I said weakly. More chuckling.

“What, pray tell, were you testing? Explain your reasoning to me.”

I was ready for this. You didn’t fuck around with a kage’s orders without a damn-good explanation handy. It could be bullshit, but that explanation had better be ready.

“Strictly speaking, bees are not hostile until harmed. Team Four could have simply lied down and uncorked the gourd, allowing the bees inside,” I said, shrugging. “The exam was passable and did not require any particular skillset save the ability to think under pressure. Firstly, I wished to test their presence of mind. Sometimes, doing nothing is the right answer.”

“Go on. What were your other reasons?”

“Secondly, having failed to discern the easiest path to success, they were tested on their teamwork and willingness to sacrifice for one another. As genin, mundane bee stings should be of no threat to them. Though painful, they could have endured for as long as their stamina allowed.

“Instead, they insisted on passing the gourd back and forth between them frequently, suggesting that they would see their team suffer rather than shoulder the burden. Not only did it tire them faster, it also bred animosity between them, turning the test into a competition to see who could hold the gourd least.

“Thus, I judged that they lacked the Will of Fire, that determination to go further beyond for their allies. Not only do they lack the presence of mind to discern the simplest path forward, they lack the strength of character I seek in my students, hokage-sama. For these reasons, I failed them.”

The hokage looked at me judgingly. It was bullshit. He knew it was bullshit. The real reason was that I fucking hated kids. But it was bullshit that had been gilded just enough to pass muster.

Finally, he took a puff of his pipe and nodded. He stamped the paper in front of him before setting it aside.

“Very well. Team Four failed.” I quietly pumped my fist in victory. “However, I maintain that you possess valuable skills I would like to see passed down to the next generation. Seeing how you have no genin team of your own, you are to make yourself available as a supplementary instructor for all active teams.”

This… This was new. This definitely wasn’t part of canon. There was no such thing as a “supplementary instructor,” not unless you counted Kakashi pawning Naruto’s training off on Ebisu so he could go teach Sasuke the Chidori during the chunin exams.

Then again, this wasn’t bad either. Ninja operated on master-disciple principles. Jounin-sensei had an almost absolute control over their genins’ lives, only overruled by the clan heads if a genin belonged to a clan. They were often quite jealous of this privilege, which was why they didn’t usually hold joint training sessions with other teams.

I likely wouldn’t get called often. And, since I was being told to make myself available, I could use that as an excuse to not leave the village for long stretches of time. It wasn’t as though my family was short on money either.

I was being made a housecat, with all the time in the world to pursue my own interests. He didn’t say it, but that was what was happening. Judging by the glint in his eyes, he knew I’d caught on.

I nodded gratefully. I’d rather deal with an S-rank mission than teach kids, but my goal had always been simple: strength. I wanted to be the first S-rank Akimichi. Even Uncle Choza was only considered A-rank, S-rank if he worked alongside his old team.

While high-profile missions could make me famous, this was by far more preferable. I could cultivate my strength, train and grow with few interruptions.

Praise the wise hokage! Praise the sh-Enlightened Monkey Sage! I had eyes but could not see Mount Tai! He knew I would fail my team and had only used it as an excuse to reward my service in ANBU! Truly, I was a fool to doubt the Professor’s sage guidance.

Author’s Note

Yeah, I’ve officially written something in the Naruto fandom, even if it’s just a snippet. Like with Snowman-Mancer, this probably won’t ever become a full story.

Seihachimori = Spirit (Seirei) + Bee (Hachi) + Forest (Mori)

I think. Google Translate may have lied to me. Oh well.