A thick puff of smoke curled from the Hokage’s lips, momentarily clouding the air of his new office. A neat stack of documents y in front of him, untouched, while a group of high-ranking shinobi sat around the long table.

  Hiruzen took his time, tapping the embers from his pipe before finally addressing the room.

  “Well then, let’s begin.” He started, “Izumi-san, if you could distribute the documents.”

  At his words, Izumi, a middle-aged woman dressed an office attire nodded. She began distributing the documents stacked before the hokage to the room’s occupants--Konoha’s highest-ranking officials, including the heads of the major cns, ANBU commanders, senior jounins, and key civilians. The room remained deathly silent, save for the faint rustling of parchment and the occasional creak of a chair as the officials accepted their reports.

  “These are the relevant information regarding Konoha’s state after the recent turmoil that we have faced.” Hiruzen said, allowing them a moment to skim through the contents.

  “As you can probably see… we’re in serious trouble.” His voice was steady, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable. “From a military standpoint alone, we’re suffering from a severe ck of manpower. That, in turn, forces us to miss out on crucial missions—missions that could bring in the funds needed to rebuild the vilge and support its people. And without those resources, malnutrition is spreading. Dissatisfaction is growing. And unrest is just around the corner. And the Daimyo… I suppose there’s no need to tell you all about what his stance about this matter is, right?”

  He took another slow drag from his pipe, letting his words settle before delivering the final blow.

  “In short… we’re knee-deep in shit.”

  The council members stared at the Hokage. In their years of service, they have rarely heard Hiruzen Sarutobi openly swear. No one spoke immediately, there was no point in arguing over how they had reached this state. They have lived through it all. They all knew the answer.

  Finally, Shikaku Nara broke the silence with a weary sigh. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “Troublesome… but expected.” He gnced at the folder in front of him. “At this rate, we won’t be able to keep up with even half the missions coming in. We’ll have to start refusing requests.”

  Hiashi Hyuuga nodded in agreement. “We should prioritize defensive assignments—protection of trade routes, reinforcement of vilge patrols. We cannot afford to appear weak, not when our enemies are surely watching.”

  Shibi Aburame adjusted his dark gsses. “Agreed. The loss of shinobi has left our scouting networks compromised. If we don’t reestablish our surveilnce, we won’t see the next attack coming until it’s too te.”

  The abrupt assault form the Sky Vilge was still heavy in their heart. And it showed.

  Hiruzen let the room settle, his pipe resting idly in his fingers. The initial discussion had addressed the surface issues, manpower and missions. But those were symptoms, not the disease. Konoha’s foundation had been shaken. If they only reacted to immediate concerns, the vilge would remain in a perpetual state of vulnerability. They needed long-term solutions.

  Hiruzen took another slow drag, letting the smoke curl from his lips before finally speaking again.

  “This is not just about survival,” he said, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. “We must look beyond the immediate crisis. We’re too focused on putting out fires,” he muttered, fingers tapping idly against the edge of the document in front of him. “Short-term fixes aren’t going to cut it. We need a real pn.”

  The hokage exhaled slowly, watching as the Nara cn head leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

  “We’re low on manpower, right? Then we should start at the root. The Academy students need to graduate early.”

  A ripple of surprise passed through the room.

  Homura Mitokado adjusted his gsses, frowning. “That’s premature. Most of them won’t be ready for active duty in six months, let alone now.”

  Shikaku shrugged. “Then we make them ready. We don’t have the luxury of time. Those kids are going to be the next generation of shinobi whether we like it or not. If we don’t start taking their education seriously, we’re just setting ourselves up for another crisis a few years from now.”

  “The Academy students must be prepared to graduate early. We cannot afford to wait for another six months. We need resources now.”

  A few officials exchanged uncertain gnces, but no one interrupted.

  “The war has left us weak, and there is no guarantee that our enemies will give us the time we need to recover. If we do not reinforce our ranks now, the next conflict could break us entirely.”

  Shikaku paused. He stretched slightly, his fingers steepled as he continued. “Aside from fixing the Academy. We need to address the issue of funds and missions. Right now, we’re declining contracts we don’t have the manpower for, but there’s another solution.”

  He let the words hang in the air for a moment before stating pinly, “We delegate to the smaller allied vilges.”

  That caught their attention.

  Koharu Utatane frowned. “You would have Konoha rely on outsiders?”

  Shikaku shook his head. “Not rely on them. Work with them. We still represent the client. We still oversee the mission assignments. But we subcontract certain tasks to vilges like Takigakure, Hoshigakure, and others. They get a cut of the payment, we lighten our workload, and in the process, we reinforce our alliances. Right now, Konoha can’t afford to act like we’re invincible. We’re strong, but we also need to be smart.”

  A contemptive silence followed.

  Tsume Inuzuka considered the idea carefully. “If handled well, this could strengthen ties between us and our allies.”

  Shibi adjusted his gsses. “A decentralized approach to missions does pose risks, but the benefits outweigh them. The question is how we ensure the quality of execution.”

  Danzo’s voice, cool and even, cut through the discussion. “If they fail, it reflects on us. Our reputation will suffer.”

  Shikaku gave a zy wave of his hand, dismissing the concern. “That’s why we oversee everything. We don’t send them anything too complicated at first, just standard protection and retrieval missions. Things that don’t carry too much risk. If they prove themselves, we expand the scope.” He yawned. “And if they mess up… well, we adjust.”

  Hiruzen, who had been silently listening, took another slow drag from his pipe before setting it down. His sharp eyes met Shikaku’s, then moved across the room.

  “The Academy reforms and the mission restructuring… These are the steps Konoha needs to take.” His voice was steady, leaving no room for doubt. “We will move forward with both. Next, we move on to the issue of food and the growing unrest within the vilge.”

  The shinobi leaders had spoken at length, but now it was time for Konoha’s civilian council members to take the floor.

  ********************************************

  The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and freshly cut wood through the temporary housing district. The makeshift shelters, hastily built using doton ninjutsu and salvaged materials, weren’t much, but they kept the rain out and gave people a pce to rest.

  Inside one of the mud-walled barracks, Ando stirred awake, staring at the wooden ceiling. He pushing himself upright on his cot.

  The shelter wasn’t rge, just a shared sleeping space lined with thin mattresses and bnkets, but it was home for now. Other young workers, mostly orphans and dispced civilians, still slept around him. Some snored softly; others curled up tightly, trying to steal just a few more minutes of rest before the day’s work began.

  He ran a hand through his dark long hair, then reached for his tattered shirt, tugging it over his head. Another day of hauling stone, creating bricks, and reinforcing buildings. He had gotten used to it by now.

  The exercise itself was meant to reintegrate him into society. It’s been a week since then, and Ando could tell that it had its effects.

  From across the room, a familiar presence stirred.

  Chika, wrapped in a thin bnket, sat up on her cot a few feet away. Her sharp eyes, flickered toward Ando before she let out a long sigh. “You’re up early.”

  “You’re not,” Ando muttered, rolling his shoulders. “I remember, you used to be quite a morning person.”

  Chika smirked, stretching zily. “Well, sometimes I’m not. I was hoping for five more minutes before someone starts yelling at us to start moving bricks again.”

  Ando smiled a little at that. It was true. Every morning, one of the older workers would come storming through, barking orders about their assignments.

  But today, it wasn’t a worker who entered the shelter.

  The door swung open, letting in the bright morning light, and a chunin in standard Konoha gear stepped inside. He had a tired but composed look about him, a clipboard in hand, and his vest looked slightly dusty from his own share of reconstruction work.

  “Alright, listen up,” the chunin’s voice carried over the murmuring of those waking up. “For those of you old enough to be at the ninja academy, you’re to report there at noon. Csses are starting again. As for all genins, you are to report at the hokage tow- I mean, the new ninja hall in an hour.”

  Ando blinked. The Academy?

  Chika, now fully awake, smiled. “About time!”

  The chunin’s sharp gaze scanned the room before continuing. “This isn’t optional. Anyone still of age to attend must report to the Academy courtyard by noon. Whether you have been previously part of the academy or not. Got it?”

  Ando gnced at Chika, who was staring at the chunin with a thoughtful expression. She caught his gaze and sighed, rubbing the back of her head.

  “Well,” she muttered, “I guess we’ll have to part ways here, for now. Actually… I have already graduated the academy around 6 months ago. So, I will be heading towards the new ninja hall.” The girl expined.

  A moment of silence hung in the shelter, the others were considering the chunin’s words, and Ando was registering Chika’s. Around two years ago, she was a third year at the academy. It was normal for her to have graduated.

  It was a good thing for her. It meant she had grown stronger and gained more experience. In the worlds of shinobi, those were one of the most valuable things. Ando was just a little sad that she was going to go. He wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with her as before. Still, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, and mustered a smile.

  “Congratutions, Chika.”

  “What’s with that weird smile?” She gave him a deadpan stare.

  “My smile has been off tely.”

  “I noticed.” She fired back with a chuckle. “Let’s get breakfast first, there’s till an hour before I have to go.”

  **********************************************

  The midday sun cast long shadows over the newly rebuilt Academy courtyard.

  The once-proud institution, a pce of learning and discipline, had changed. Ando could see it in the details, the uneven coloration of the new stone walls, the still-visible scorch marks that hadn’t been scrubbed away yet. Wooden support beams jutted out from partially reconstructed rooftops, and some training fields remained littered with debris, a quiet reminder of the attack that had left the vilge in ruins.

  But despite the scars, the Academy stood.

  And that, Ando thought, was enough.

  The courtyard, which had once been a pce where students would casually gather before csses, now felt different. Some student, both new and returning, stood in groups, murmuring amongst themselves. Others were more hesitant, casting cautious gnces at their surroundings.

  For many of them, this was their first time stepping back into the Academy after the attack.

  Ando’s eyes flickered across the gathering crowd. He didn’t recognize most of them. His peers, the ones who had been in his year before he was taken, would have already advanced. Had they survived? He didn’t know.

  A few instructors stood nearby, keeping watch over the gathered students. Their gazes were sharp, assessing--not just as teachers, but as shinobi. Even here, vigince remained a priority.

  “Welcome and welcome back to you all.” A powerful voice rang through the courtyard, and the murmuring died down.

  Ando turned his gaze toward the raised ptform at the center of the courtyard, where several instructors now stood.

  At the front, Shimamoto Kin, the old Academy Chairman, surveyed the gathered students with a calm but commanding presence. He was dressed in full shinobi gear, a rare sight for an administrator, but one that made sense in these times.

  “Many of you are returning,” Shimamoto continued, his voice steady. “Others are stepping into the Academy for the first time. Regardless of which you are, know this, the Academy has changed, just as Konoha has.”

  “The Sky Vilge’s attack left scars on all of us. Some of you have lost friends. Family. Homes… But you are still here. And the Academy will continue, as it always has.”

  Shimamoto continued, “With the destruction of the main building, adjustments have been made. Cssrooms have been reassigned, training fields are still under repair, and temporary facilities have been set up. But make no mistake, this is still the Academy.”

  His gaze hardened slightly.

  “Your training will not be easier. If anything, it will be harder.”

  Having said his piece, Shimamoto nodded toward the instructors behind him, and Iruka Umino stepped forward. “For the old students, form lines behind your teachers. Regrettably, we lost both mister Yumiko Nishikawa and Sugiyama Takahiro in the war... For those that cannot find their teachers, you shall form a line at the back, along with the new students. That is all.”

  The courtyard gradually shifted as students moved to their assigned instructors, forming lines. Ando deliberated for a second, wondering if he should head towards the line at the back. But then he caught sight of Soda, his old teacher.

  The man looked weary, but fine. Ando walked towards the line of unfamiliar faces, and waited his turn. The process seemed to be about the same as the one he went through during his admission into the academy. They went forward one by one, and then they were handed the academy guidebooks, student cards, and a dormitory assignment.

  But strangely enough, they weren’t given a css assignment. Instead, they were told to head towards another pce for a re-evaluation.

  Soon, it was Ando’s turn. And he greeted his old teacher with a smile, but it was still a little awkward. “Hey, Soda-sensei.”

  The man in front of him widened his eyes. He looked at Ando with a mix of emotions ranging from confusion, surprise, and relief. Before settling on joy. “Ando!”

  Soda stepped closer and csped Ando’s shoulders in his hand. “You’re alive! How? What happened?”

  Ando frowned at the succession of questions. Now that he thought about it, he never inquired about how he got away from the snake. Ando presumed it was thanks to a rescue mission. But he never bothered to learn the details.

  He added it into the list of things he had to look into ter.

  Realizing he was spacing out; Ando shook his head and gave a quick apology to the older ninja. “I’m not quite sure about how I got rescued. But I have been abducted during the incident two years ago.”

  Soda’s expression softened upon hearing his response. He then gave Ando’s shoulders a few comforting squeezes. He did not ask about what happened during those two years, he knew that the event must still be weighting heavy on the orphan. Instead, he moved on with re-registration process. Handing Ando his new documents before directing him towards the next step.

  “Come find me when you have time!” Soda offered as Ando headed towards a training field behind the old 1st year’s dormitory.

  A rge group of students had already gathered there, some murmuring to each other, others standing quietly, waiting in line. Ando let his eyes roam around as he scanned the setup.

  The training field had been transformed into a testing ground, where dozens of students were undergoing evaluations simultaneously. The process seemed to be unfolding retively fast, with chunin supervisors overseeing everything while genin proctors administered the individual tests.

  Ando approached the first line and waited his turn. He passed the time by observing the students lining up for their test. His eyes caught a few interesting individuals, catching even a glimpse of the original rookie nine.

  Before long, it was his turn. A genin with a clipboard gestured for Ando to step forward.

  “Your student card?” the genin held his hand out expectantly. Ando complied.

  “Do you have any knowledge of ninjutsu? Or ninja techniques that you can demonstrate?” he stated. To which Ando simply performed a seal-less Doton: Earth Formation.

  Before the surprised genin now id a dirt brick.

  “Alright, that’s quite impressive. You’ve got excellent chakra control too.” The genin praised. He rapidly jolted down his evaluation on a note before handing it to Ando, along with the student card. “You can head over to the next line.”

  Ando simply nodded and moved on to the next phase of the test: Genjutsu awareness and execution.

  A different genin proctor, a young kunoichi with sharp eyes and a composed stance, stepped forward to receive him.

  “I’m going to cast a basic genjutsu on you.” She warned. “Try to dispel it as quickly as you can.”

  Ando gave a short nod, and soon, he felt a discreet surge of chakra trying to influence him. Yet, he didn’t even get the opportunity to try and dispel it. The genjutsu simply failed to take hold.

  The kunoichi blinked in confusion and tried again. But it came down to the same result. After thinking for a moment, the girl stopped trying and wrote down his evaluation before sending him off.

  The next phase was Taijutsu and raw physical strength.

  This time, the test was simple: a spar against a genin proctor. Unlike before, where proctors simply observed his reactions, this was a true measure of combat ability. Ando was assigned to a lean, dark-haired genin with a calm presense.

  “No need to go all out,” the genin remarked, rolling his shoulders. “Just a basic spar to assess your form and technique.”

  Ando nodded once and dropped into a stance.

  The genin moved first, testing with a simple sequence of strikes—a jab, a low kick, a feint toward the ribs.

  Ando reacted smoothly, blocking where necessary, sidestepping where efficient. The genin adjusted, increasing speed slightly, but Ando continued to move with calcuted precision, as if he could see in advance what his opponent would do.

  The chunin supervisor watching the match gave a small nod, then signaled the end.

  The genin stepped back, exhaling slightly. “Not bad. Your defense is solid. Could use more aggression, though.”

  Ando simply nodded. He wasn’t interested in unnecessary offense. With his stats, he was sure he would have no trouble taking on the genin.

  The chunin finished writing his evaluation. “Next!”

  AN: Thanks for reading! I’ll be posting Ando’s full stats next