Konohagakure, already the de facto center of civilization in the Elemental Nations with its large and dense population crowding the well-developed metropolitan settlement, was an absolute wonder to behold when the annual Chuunin Exams were held in the Land of Fire. It’s population of several million seemed to multiply in the span of just a few days until Rokumaru found himself in one of the largest gatherings of people this continent would ever see; young shinobi seeking to prove themselves worthy of promotion and recognition with many supervising Jounin in tow, civilians using the occasion to conduct business with other villages and see what quality of shinobi their Academies were churning out, and the always present merchants taking advantage of the crowds to hawk wares to foreign customers. If the sheer amount of visitors to the village hadn’t raised the prices of hostels and boarding houses far higher than the youth could afford, he would have wished for Konoha to always be this lively.

Unfortunately for him, the rising prices of goods and services that resulted from the influx of so many people put even more pressure on him to ensure a steady stream of ryo to support himself with came in. D and C-Ranked missions had been the staples holding his schedule together, the lousy pay allowing him to live a comfortable hand-to-mouth existence, but every day that passed saw his stack of bills grow scarcer and scarcer. Spending two hours painting a fence for a few hundred ryo or hunting vermin the entire day for twice that could barely cover housing costs alone, and staying in the forest overnight again was not an option. He still felt the sensation of that ant colony that had stumbled into the hole in his sand-hammock.

No, if he wanted to actually be efficient in his money-making endeavors there would need to be bigger payouts, and B-Ranked missions were the closest he could get to higher amounts of ryo per each hour worked. B-Ranks that were officially too difficult and dangerous for a common C-Rank ninja like Rokumaru, missions that he could never be assigned without a superior to follow along and supervise. Given that he had no one ranked above him to ask for help, it seemed he would be stuck with D’s and C’s for the rest of his life.

So like any good shinobi would do, Rokumaru simply decided to pretend to be B-Ranked. How could they prove him wrong? The young man’s ninja records were ash beneath glass somewhere in the ruins of Sunagakure where the main administrative building had stood, and beyond the meager handful of souls he had told his sob story to he was simply a former Suna-nin with a flak jacket. Technically this could identify him as anything up to a Jounin, though the redhead knew he could not maintain that facade should it be challenged unlike he could as a pseudo-Special Jounin. A strong Chuunin was comparable to a very weak Special Jounin, after all. Chastising himself for not thinking of such a simple yet underhanded idea before, Roku embraced the false promotion he had given himself with zeal.

When he had gone to apply for a mission the next day Rokumaru sought out the desk that provided B-Ranked missions, thumbing through the folders stacked on top for something simple and borderline easy that he could handle himself. The young kunoichi in a Konoha flak jacket must have noticed his hesitation after several moments of finding nothing but bounties on enormous animals and descriptions of bandit groups harassing the surrounding areas; she caught his attention by clearing her throat and pulled another folder from a drawer of the desk.

The woman remarked that the ochre flak jacket he wore was a very uncommon sight these days and offered the folder to him, saying that there was demand for proctors to conduct and supervise matches for the Exams. That Konoha could look even more sympathetic to the displaced natives of Suna by having one of their own involved in the Exams, even as a novelty. The idea of not only getting free admission to the exams that he had mostly written off, but also getting paid to stand back while Genin scrap for the crowd’s amusement, made the decision to accept a no-brainer. He thanked the woman manning the desk and was given directions to one of the many locations where the matches would take place.

He arrived at one of many side entrances to a large arena building without a roof where he handed the folder to the guard standing beside the door, who waved him in and closed the entrance behind him. Another Konoha-nin wearing their distinct flak jackets lead him through a hallway to an empty room with padding reinforcing every inch of the walls and ceiling. The Leaf ordered him to showcase any techniques or skills that would allow him to do his duty in restraining or protecting an exam participant: using his sand Rokumaru created a perfectly-smooth dome around the stranger that required a chakra-enhanced taijutsu blow to crumble, then snatched him up with the sand littering the floor that became a massive hand-like construct. After breaking free from that technique the Konoha-nin tested the fortitude of his wall of Doton, which the redhead spit into a tall and dense mass of stone before him, and with a scoff announced Rokumaru’s ability to perform his duties as ‘barely acceptable’, which sounded fair to the boy in question. He wouldn’t even be here if not for lying; he hoped nothing would happen that actually required his intervention. Squared away and given leave to begin, Rokumaru followed the Leaf to where the exhibitions would take place. They exited the hallway into the huge, open-ceiling clearing with high rows of seats surrounding a field of tall grass that seemed far too high to be functional.

The first matches of the day began just a half-hour later, the time between being used to speak with a bald Leaf Jounin who instructed him on what to do. He memorized the lines he would say to start a match and the protocols should certain events happen, such as a combatant forfeiting the match or when to step in should a match get out of control, and was showed a moderately sized room containing couches, chairs, televisions  and a long table with food against the wall that would serve as the hospitality room for the proctors who were not overseeing matches.

The proctors would rotate between matches randomly to ensure impartiality and allow breaks, with Rokumaru set to oversee the second match to start with, and so he sat in the proctor’s room watching the televisions showing the opening ceremonies for the day. A few shinobi wearing the garb of various villages began to trickle into the room as they awaited their own turn to head into the field, though he was sad to see none with the same ochre flak jacket that he himself wore among them. In his hands was a photocopied sheet detailing the matches for that day, the participants for each match and a general overview of their abilities. Thirty bouts were scheduled for this specific arena today, six of which he was tasked with supervising.

Roku folded the sheet and stowed it in his pocket, stretching his hands and wrists in preparation for any abrupt seals or motions of his hands needed to do his duty. He looked around at the others who would proctor matches of their own, the time he would have to wait before he was needed making him unusually sociable.

1303

It was a beautiful day for a tournament. If Nayoko was honest with himself, he thought almost any day was a good day for a tournament. The rush that he got when he watched shinobi compete for combat superiority and to prove the power of their applied teachings made him long for his younger days when all he cared about was getting strong enough to show off. Those days were long behind him, but he still enjoyed the spectacle of it all. At the moment, Nayoko was sitting on the top of the entrance gate to Konohagakure no Sato, his home. He had been back and fourth between the Lands of Water and Fire so much lately that he was starting to think of both places as his home. He had spent years away in Kirigakure no Sato training and honing his skills to become a better ninja, but in the process, he had made many friends and allies there. Then, not too long after that, he had been sent to the Land of Wind to help with the reclamation of Sunagakure no Sato, which had ended about as well as anyone had expected. But even still, he had made an amazing friend there in Verdandi. The princess had taught him a great deal when they finally returned to the Land of Water together, and their connection had been a genuine one. As he sat on the gate, the Hattori could not help but chuckle at the idea of a young version of himself chasing after her because of her beauty alone. He certainly would have ended up on her wrong side if that had happened, and he knew just how deadly that could be. The man shook his head as he continued to laugh, missing his friend for a moment before glancing down at the people below.

Hundreds of travellers from all over the Ninja World and beyond were gathering in his home town to celebrate the chuunin exams. The event was one he had always looked forward to growing up, even after he had surpassed the rank of genin. He had never actually participated himself, but he had been promoted by other merit and had grown in his own way. Regardless, the man regretted not joining in his younger years. It would have been a valuable experience to fight people from other nations. But then again, he had received that experience when he had been transferred to Kirigakure no Sato for the first time. So it was not a complete loss to have only been a spectator for all those years. And as he looked down at all of the other spectators still arriving for the first day of the exams, the ANBU captain was filled with s strange joy. Despite how macabre the idea of hundreds of people gathering to watch what were essentially children fight, it was a great way for the nations to bond. With the tensions rising over the events in the Land of Wind and the distrust that was harboured by many shinobi, it was the perfect time for such an event. Hopefully it would be able to calm everyone down, even for a short while.

As the jounin sat on the gate, his feet dangling freely above all of the arrivals, something caught his eye that reminded him just how dark the world was at the moment. With a sigh, the ANBU captain rose to his feet and looked down at the three ninja that had caught his attention. They seemed normal enough. One was clearly a genin, there to either spectate or participate in the exams, and the others were probably high ranking ninja that were sent as supervisors. They were all smiling and chatting as they stepped though the gate below, but orders were orders. These shinobi were form the Village Hidden in the Clouds in the Land of Lightning; they were not to be trusted. Silently, Nayoko turned and watched them from above as they moved into his village. They walked in with a purpose in mind; Nayoko could tell as much based on how directly they moved without issue. They new where they were supposed to go, and though Nayoko had his suspicions, he had to do his due diligence. As quietly as he could, the jounin jumped off of the gate and onto a nearby rooftop before moving across it, keeping his distance from the Kumo-nin but making sure that they were always in his sight.

Just as Nayoko had suspected, the three ninja arrived outside of the administration building very shortly after their arrival. They were required to check in with the administration so that a record of all of the visiting ninja could be kept in the hands of any who required it. It seemed as though they were only following procedure at that point. Nayoko shook his head to himself as he perched on a building just outside of the administration building entrance and watched the trio approach. Quietly, Nayoko jumped down to the ground level and moved behind them toward the doors of the building where he then raised his hand slightly and made a quick gesture behind their backs. One of his men was watching the situation unfold; Nayoko had noticed him the moment he had arrived the scene. The signal conveyed two messages to the ANBU. The first was that his captain has spotted him and was disappointed, the second was that he was now to follow the trio instead of Nayoko. With that dealt with, the Hattori moved into the building to see all of the people that had gathered for the exams. There were ninja from all around the world in that room, and Nayoko wanted to welcome them all to his home. But there was too much on his plate already. He had already agreed to proctor one of the matches that was going to happen very soon, but he needed to check in early to make sure all of the proctors would arrive on time.

As he moved through the sign up area for the missions, Nayoko simply waved at the Kunoichi behind the desk. He had known her for years and she already knew exactly why he was there. She would sign his name into the registry as he passed the desk and moved into a long hallway that led to the proctors’ room. He opened the door to find the brightly lit room full of chuunin, special jounin, and jounin all sitting around waiting for the matches to start. The televisions in the rooms were showing footage of the many different arenas that would be used for the fight and a lot of the proctors from different countries were hyping up any of the genin that they knew were participating. Nayoko rolled his eyes to himself and removed his hood as he stepped into the room proper and looked around for anybody that he recognized. Unfortunately, nobody in the room was anyone he had met in his travels, but one person in particular did catch his eye. He did not see any details of the young man, but the ochre coloured flak jacket that he wore was unmistakeable. That boy had been a shinobi from Sungakure no Sato before the fall. Nayoko narrowed his eyes for a moment as he approached. He knew that some of the refugees form Suna blamed Konoha for the tragedy because it was one of their own nukenin that had led the charge. But this young man did not seem vengeful; at least he did not yet.

With too many questions pulling at him, Nayoko Hattori decided to approach the young man as he performed some stretched of his hands and wrists. When he got close enough to address him directly, Nayoko could smile. “The colour of your jacket betrays your homeland. It’s hard to find many of those around these days.” He stepped in front of the stranger in order to properly introduce himself. Nayoko gave a slight bow before continuing. “I’m Nayoko Hattori, a jounin of the Leaf. It’s good to see a ninja of the Sand here among the proctors.”


WC:1367

As time wore on and more proctors began to file into the room as they too awaited the beginning ceremonies, Rokumaru tried not to appear as uncomfortable and out of place as he appeared among so many foreign Jounin. His uncommon sandy-hued vest drew the eye of those that entered the room and he imagined the sight was a disappointing one, the frail adolescent much younger than many of the others who held ranks higher than his own. It was not enough incentive for anyone to come bother him, thankfully enough, and the foreign Jounin left the boy alone to prepare for the day of matches ahead. He had filled his jacket’s pockets to the brim with the various fruits and breads laid out across a table against the wall and Rokumaru routinely pulled out moist grapes that somehow remained sand-free despite being buried in the piles of loose silicate he carried around.

Reaching into another pocket for the folded up paper listing today’s matches with the ones he would oversee circled with a fountain pen, Roku skimmed over the brief descriptions of the Genin he would be responsible for; nothing about their abilities implied any difficulties should he be forced to intervene and stop the match, most of the Exam participants limited to one or two elemental releases and jutsu up to B-Rank, the garden variety shinobi of the ninja world. Those participants who wielded Kekkei Genkai that gave them unorthodox advantages were who he really expected to be cause for concern, particularly the girl in the fourth match he would oversee with the very rare Scorch Release. Considering that particular bout to be the one to watch out for, he also considered the first few hours that would lead up to that match to be a time to relax.

Footsteps against the tiled floor preceded the approach of a dark-haired Leaf Jounin dressed in a hooded cloak, the headband pressed with the circular emblem of Konoha tied around his bicep, who had apparantly seen Rokumaru as he entered the room and made his way over to where the red headed foreigner sat alone by the wall. He nodded at the native stranger as he approached in a friendly manner.

As the man came within speaking distance he offered up an easygoing smile and remarked on the rarity of the bulky tan flak jackets that were once the common identifier for shinobi hailing from the Land of Wind. His friendly, outgoing demeanor fit well with the stereotype Rokumaru had in mind when it came to the Leaf-nin. Studying the man’s features did not yield any resemblances to anyone he may have known, not could he spy any of the common attributes of one of the many clans produced by the Land of Fire. A man who held first impressions to be an important factor in what he thought of people, Roku had no reason to dislike the friendly stranger and felt the urge to know more about him. And, while he was on the subject of appraising this fellow, he had to admit the man had a certain charm about him that coincided well with his clean-cut appearance. Those brown eyes tinged with gold were rather interesting as well; Rokumaru internally decided the man was almost as good looking as he himself was. But only almost, of course.

Giving his younger counterpart a shallow bow in greeting the Leaf introduced himself as Nayoko Hattori and a Jounin of Konohagakure, his clan name unknown to the redhead who gave a downward nod in return. The older man, in his early to mid 20’s if Roku had to guess, remarked on how it was good to see a member of the fallen Sand represented among the proctors from other villages. If the man was being sycophantic or genuine did not matter in the least, as it was far too rare that Rokumaru came across anyone from the other villages who would even acknowledge that glassed ruin these days. The stranger’s sentiment was welcome and, if he could be honest, a boost to his spirit that would definitely keep him going. He was here to give some small tribute to the Village that existed only in memories and nightmares, and that someone could acknowledge that was enough to satisfy the selfish pit of longing that Roku kept chained at the bottom of his psyche.

Smiling up at the Leaf Jounin and gesturing to one of the chairs around them as an invitation to sit down, Rokumaru introduced himself in turn. ”Sabaku Rokumaru,”, he introduced himself as while he folded up the paper detailing today’s matches and stowed it back into the mound of sand within his right hip pocket. ”And thank you for saying so. I’ve met many, many people who can’t even pretend to care about what the remnants of the Sand are doing these days.” Regardless of whether Nayoko chose to take a seat or remain standing, Roku hoped he could squeeze some conversation from the foreign shinobi.

Glancing at the clock against the far wall that indicated the beginning ceremonies were still far off, the redhead turned back to the newfound acquaintance who had approached him. ”It’ll be a while before they need us proctors, would you be interested in telling me who exactly the Hattori clan are?” He hoped the older brunette was willing to indulge the questions Roku always asked of those who managed to capture his interest, especially considering that he had no clue what the Hattori clan were about or where they originated from. Had me met any Hattori back in the Village? If so, they hadn’t made an impression on him like a Leaf Jounin could do by virtue of just existing.

Reaching into the left breast pocket of his flak jacket Rokumaru searched for the final grape that lay buried within the sand inside, blowing grains of sand from the moist fruit. If Nayoko was unwilling to discuss the Hattori for whatever reason than he would not be upset, as there was plenty of things that he could ask such a high-ranking member of Konohagakure no Sato.

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As Nayoko introduced himself to the apparent former shinobi of the Sand, he could not help but notice that he was being sized up by the boy. It was to be expected of course by one who was trained as a ninja like himself. Whether or not you were planning to fight the person you were speaking to, it was always taught to try to get a grasp of their capabilities by initial impressions. Nayoko did his best to appear as genuine as possible while he offered his greeting and slight condolence for the lost village. Though he did not apologize for anything, he hoped that the young Sand ninja would take his mention of the destroyed village as a respectful recognition of loss rather than a sociopathic comment on the destruction of his home. The last thing the Hattori wanted to do was offend the foreigner in his own land. Nayoko took the opportunity to size up the boy as well. His first impression as that the stranger form the Land of Wind was very young to be completing B-ranked missions for the village. Usually strong chuunin and special jounin took care of that kind of mission; that meant that the stranger must have been at least very skilled as a ninja. Looking over the boy’s red hair and his young face, Nayoko could not figure out anything about the boy other than his homeland. There were no defining features to denote him as a member of a certain clan, so Nayoko assumed that there was nothing particularly special about him other than his age.

Those thoughts left the jounin very quickly when he finally did here the name of the young man. ”Sabaku Rokumaru,”, he introduced himself as he folded up a paper that he had ben reading detailing today’s matches and stowed it back into his right hip pocket. ”And thank you for saying so. I’ve met many, many people who can’t even pretend to care about what the remnants of the Sand are doing these days.” Nayoko frowned. There was a lot to process in even those few words. The Sabaku clan was not one that Nayoko had read a great deal about, though he was aware of the ability that some members of the clan possessed. The ability to manipulate sand at their will was something that Nayoko had only heard about when he was younger and read about after he had become a genin. Not much was known about the mysterious capability, but the Hattori would love to know more. What drew more of his attention was the fact that he seemed to think most people did not care about hat had happened to his home. It was not something that Nayoko could empathize with, though he would certainly try to sympathize. Being a boy who is so dependant on sand and then having that robbed alongside him some seemed like a horrible series of events that Nayoko was not sure he would have personally recovered from. It was like an entire loss of identity in a matter of a few weeks. Nayoko took a seat in the chair that had been indicated to him and let out a short sigh.

”It’ll be a while before they need us proctors, would you be interested in telling me who exactly the Hattori clan are?” The words seemed sudden and out of place to the jounin, but the thought brought  a smile to his face. He had always enjoyed learning about different clans, as well as his own when he was younger. He had spent hour after how in small book stores and the library trying to scrounge up what information he could on the Hattori. After sitting silently for a moment in thought, Nayoko addressed Rokumaru. “I would be happy to tell you about my clan; or least what I know about it. But before I do, I want to make sure you know something.” The Hattori paused as if his next words were heavier than normal ones before continuing. “I want you to know,” he said quietly, “that the Leaf has not forgotten what happened to Sunagakure no Sato, and even if they do, I won’t. I was there as part of the fighting during the attempted reclamation. I know that it was a failure, but I will never forget my time int at desert. And I will go back some day to try to finish what me and my village tried to start.”

The ANBU captain let his words hand in the air for a moment before leaning back in his change and attempting to go get back to the topic at hand. “In any case, to tell you all about the Hattori would be impossible. The Hattori clan is a long-standing part of the ninja world, known for little and renowned for less. We aren’t really known to take pride in the work that we do or the feats that we are capable of, instead choosing to exist as a solid foundation wherever we call their home. The Hattori clan does take pride however in being one of the most well traveled clans in the ninja world, as well as easily one of the most numerous. Our stories and tales are many and far too plentiful to count as we’ve have settled in almost every country and every village.” Nayoko paused for a moment to think about his own family and the dark history that stained it. “My personal family is originally from the Land of Water, but my mother moved here before I was born. She was proud of the Hattori name and that is the only reason I still use it. In truth my family’s name is Nozara, but these days I choose to honor my mother by introducing myself as Hattori.”

Once again Nayoko would pause to think about how to better describe his clan. “Like I said; we aren’t really known for anything specific other than versatility. Different members of the clan specialize in different things, but we are always very good at what we do. They say it is our ‘Heart of Iron’ that sets us apart, though to be honest I’m not sure what that really means.” He then sat up straighter in his chair and turned so that he was properly facing Rokumaru. “But what about you? I don’t know much at all about the Sabaku clan, though I’ve heard the name before. What can you tell me about them?”

WC:1100+1367=2467

The older shinobi studied the foreigner carefully as the boy did so in return, both of them obviously wary of strangers as anyone rightfully should have been in their line of work. Rokumaru gave his own name in return to the outgoing Leaf-nin, flattered from having the man’s attention even if it was attracted solely by his status as a vagrant rōnin, and he could not help but wallow in the sympathy Nayoko was offering. The dark-haired Leaf frowned when his redheaded counterpart complained about the strangers who were less empathetic towards the displaced people of the Hidden Sand, likely having experienced the same disposition among some folk in his own village.

Curious about another shinobi clan he had not come across and knew absolutely nothing about, Rokumaru asked about the Hattori clan and if Nayoko could reveal more about it. Coming from an old and rather iconic clan from Sunagakure Roku expected most shinobi to have at least a surface-level grasp on what the Sabaku were about (something that should have been self-explainatory given the translation of the name), and that was both a blessing and a curse. Knowing his name alone gave someone everything they needed to know about the vast majority of his abilities; that sort of thing did not happen with the more spread out clans such as this Hattori, who could have been anything from Genjutsu-users to swordsmen. The sooner he could find out about them, the more comfortable he would feel with the already uneven playing field between the two of them.

Nayoko indulged Rokumaru’s interest in his clan and agreed to explain more, but before they left the topic of Sunagakure the man took the chance to reassure the younger proctor that there were those in Konoha who had not forgotten what had happened to the ruined village in the Land of Wind. To Roku’s bemusement, this Leaf seemed truly sorrowful; the redhead expected the parroted lines of expressed sympathy most he spoke to would give upon hearing of his displaced status, any reasonable person able to see that being comforting to a mourning soul was the respectable thing to do, but it was usually stained with the hidden insinuations Rokumaru could not help but assume were in the minds of the unaffected. Satisfaction from seeing the downfall of a rival power, pride at the prolonged existence of their own home. Pity for the downcast refugees cast from their ancestral land, and sometimes even malice for an enemy shinobi left in a hostile world without a safe place of their own.

But from the words of empathy expressed by Nayoko he could not detect any genuine implications that the man was thankful for the glassed ruin that the Hidden Sand had ended up as. The older man told the teen how he had been one of the many Leaf-nin who took part in the crisis management operation Konoha had conducted in Kaze no Kuni while the other villages had been pursuing their own self-serving goals, and how he was unhappy with the results of the overall effort. He expressed his wish to continue helping those who had once been a part of Suna if given the chance, and Roku had to grin widely at how his heart seemed to bleed for complete and total strangers who were once competitors for their village’s prosperity. The redhead was completely sure that he himself would not be affected by the demise of Konoha or Iwa, though he’d certainly pretend to be for the appearance’s sake.

Now having met a soul who was receptive to the constant moaning about his lost home, Rokumaru realized he would have to rein in his bitterness as this Konoha-nin seemed benevolent enough to want to comfort the gaunt and dour teen, or else risk alienating this newfound acquaintance with his misery. He held his hands up in a placating gesture to reassure the man. ”It helps to know there are those beyond the borders who were upset by what happened too. It’s old news now, though; I’m lucky enough to still be here, so it really could be worse.” Rokumaru sifted through the pockets of his odd-colored flak jacket for more grapes that were not there, looking at the numerous scars marring the visible skin on Nayoko’s arms. ”I just hope you have pleasant memories of the place while it stood.”

Both seeming to want to stray from such a depressing topic, Rokumaru listened carefully as Nayoko began to tell about his own clan as the boy had asked him to do while leaning back in his chair. According to the Jounin, the people of the long-lasting Hattori clan are a group with broad and unfocused skills, with no foundational or guiding set of abilities meaning each member could choose how they trained and grew their strength. They were not legends in what they chose to do, but instead made up for this by being numerous and spread far around the Elemental Nations. The notion of such a broad, unfocused clan was completely different from Roku’s own that had one specific unique ability and was based entirely in the Land of Wind; it was a testament to the sheer variety of ways that chakra has been used over the centuries. Nayoko remarked upon the fact that the Hattori were so widespread and prevalent that there could be no complete retelling of the clan’s history and exploits as there was far too much that had happened, countless stories of individuals that never contributed to one central entity who would recognize their actions in return. It revealed practically nothing about what the Jounin could specifically do, as he apparantly was forced to train in the common ways everyone else was forced to, meaning it was a rather effective description of the bloodline.

Nayoko went on to talk about his close family too, another difference from the redhead in the fact that his own family was just one of countless branches of the Hattori. Those he descended from were natives of Mizu no Kuni and his mother had emigrated with him to the village he now was a part of, and that his true name was Nayoko Nozara. He followed the contemporary custom of putting his surname last after his given name, something the more traditional boy he sat beside was unaccustomed to doing.

Pausing for a moment, the Jounin summarized what his clan was about by emphasizing their overall versatility, having the choice to pursue what interested each person individually while still having the skill to excel in whatever disciplines they chose. Apparantly they called this shared ability the ‘Heart of Iron’, and whether it was a simple philosophy practiced from birth or a genuine chakra mutation mattered very little given that the results were the same.

Having given a proper description of a clan that was rather varied and hard to pin down, Nayoko adjusted his sitting posture and politely asked about the Sabaku clan in return. He admitted to knowing little about the clan beyond the name alone and invited the redhead to enlighten him further about the topic, likely wanting some information in return for what he had supplied about his own ancestry.

Rokumaru was surprised by the idea that someone would not know about his family, accustomed to Suna-folk who were familiar with those that claimed the sands of the desert as their tool and weapon. But it was a chance to talk in length about himself, indirectly at least, and it stoked the cold embers of his narcissism stifled by this uncomfortable brush with poverty over the past few months. That was more than sufficient reason for Rokumaru to grin and dig into the right side pocket of his flak jacket, retrieving an overflowing handful of sand that supernaturally adhered to the surface of his creamy pale skin.

”I’ll warn you,” the redhead cautioned this rather easygoing foreigner, ”I could talk for hours about this kind of thing.” But not wanting to subject this newfound acquaintance through a lecture that would have no real use to the man, Roku thought of how to summarize his own family like Nayoko had done to his.

He’d start with what their abilities were, considering he was holding the stuff as thought he were about to use it for a presentation. Rokumaru opened his clenched hand and allowed the loose silicate material to fall in a stream until it reached chest height; upon reaching this area where the redhead manipulated the grainy matter using concentrated waves of chakra, a smooth and solid sheet of tan began to form as though it was falling onto an invisible surface. ”The Sabaku were the Suna-nin who possessed the ability to control sand, and we called this ability Sabaton.” The flat sheet of sand fell apart as the waves of chakra keeping it aloft were cut off, such a mundane display requiring drops of chakra from the sizeable reservoir that years of practice had built up.

It isn’t a real Element, though,” the redhead clarified as he forced the loose material to stream up into the pocket he had taken it from. ”We’re actually something like a cadet dynasty to whatever bloodline the Magnet Release comes from; the clan traced back to one of the Kazekage from when the Hidden Villages were just a hundred years old or so. I would’ve compared it to one of the noble clans you have here in Konoha. Very much involved with politics and well-off financially, patriotic and with a tradition of producing shinobi for the village. My ties to the clan were matrilineal; my father was a civilian merchant from Kusa.” His enthusiasm tapered off as his improvised summary came to the present status of the Sabaku, his smile turning wistful and his hand seeking the cold pile of sand in his pocket for reassurance. ”I don’t think there’s enough of us left to qualify as a clan, anymore.”

Searching for the clock on the far wall and seeing they had just a few minutes until the opening ceremonies began, Rokumaru thought of what else to say to this Jounin from Konoha. This was an opportunity he had not been given before, so perhaps he should make an effort to find more down the road. ”Feel free to decline, but would you be interested in training or sparring with me some day in the future? I’m curious to see what you’ve chosen to do with your Heart of Iron, and you don’t seem like the type to leave my corpse for the birds if things get out of hand”.

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As Nayoko spoke about his clan to the young man from the Land of Wind, his mind could not help but wander to the origins of his own family that he had decided to leave out. What he had told the boy was not a lie; his family was originally from the Land of Water and they had lived there for generation. His lies were ones of omission. There parts of the story that the Hattori just felt did not needed to be told. Like how his mother had died when he was very young, which had pushed him to become a ninja, like she wanted him to be. Like how when he had been but a genin, a man had acted as his mentor until finally revealing that he was not even a ninja of the Leaf himself. Rather, he was someone that had known his mother back in the Land of Water. This man had manipulated Nayoko into travelling to the Village Hidden in the Mists and eventually to seeking him out. It was then that Nayoko had learned that the man was actually his uncle, and that his family’s legacy was one of betrayal and hatred toward the ninja world; especially the Mist. Nayoko had been torn for but a moment before the man had tired to kill his closest friend at the time. Then he knew what he had to do. Denying his uncle left the jounin almost dead, and he still bore the scars from that encounter. But after that, he had not resurfaced. Part of Nayoko hoped that he had died by now, but deep down he knew that was not true. Those were the details that Nayoko left out of his explanation to Rokumaru; there was no need to make him think that Nayoko was kin to murderers and criminals.

There was a brief look of surprise on the Sand nin’s face when Nayoko mentioned that he knew very little about foreign clan. But that confusion and surprise was replaced very quickly by a grin that Nayoko wanted to mirror. Just by that look alone, Nayoko knew that the boy was proud of his heritage and the legacy that he carried in his blood. Nayoko had always appreciated people like that since family was so important to him personally. The young man wasted no time digging his hand into his pocket and pulling out to reveal a handful of sand that was overflowing in such a way that would warrant gravity taking over and having some of it fall to the ground. But instead, the sand seemed to adhere to the boy’s skin and hand there. ”I’ll warn you,” the redhead cautioned the curious jounin, ”I could talk for hours about this kind of thing.” Nayoko funned and leaned forward din his seat to better hear what the boy would say. More people were entering the room and Nayoko did not want to miss a word. “I’m all ears,” he said as he prepared to learn a little but about the Sabaku clan of the Land of Wind.

What Rokumaru opened with was not exactly what Nayoko had expected. He had always assumed that the Sabaku’s ability to manipulate sand was an elemental release, much like his own water or wind style jutsu. He knew that advanced releases were fairly common these days, at least among the ninja that he had met, so the though of Sand Release being something akin to Ice Release or even the more complex kekkei tota Dust Release from the Earth Country. Instead, it was more like a special way of controlling an already existing material or energy, much like the Magnet release that the boy mentioned. Nayoko had never met a magnet release user, but he was aware of their capabilities from the research he had done in the past. He also had heard of the Kazekage form centuries before that had used the Sand masterfully to the point where he could fly around on cloud of it along with his allies. It was fascinating that such a powerful clan had been basically handed political power because of it. If Konoha had been then same way, then Nayoko reckoned the Uchiha clan would have still stood tall as the leaders of his village to this day. The thoughts rolled around in his head for a moment before Rokumaru mentioned that there were barely enough Sabaku in existence to count as a clan at all. Once again, Nayoko thought of the massacre at Sunagakure no Sato that was probably to blame for the injustice. He frowned slightly as Rokumaru glanced at the clock.

The frown only lasted for a moment though. The redhead turned back to Nayoko quickly and asked if he would like to spar some time in the future. That brought the soft smile back to the jounin right away. “Of course, I would like to train with you someday. If you are staying in the village after the exams are over, I’ll have a lot more spare time and I can show you was I’ve put most of my practice into. My one request is that you show me just how powerful your sand is! I’m curious to see what someone as young as yourself is able to do with such a powerful ability.” The jounin would also glance at the clock then, knowing that their time together would be short now. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper that told him what match he would be proctoring. “So,” he said to his new friend. “What match are you proctoring? Do you know anything about your combatants?”

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Though he already had several leading questions and threads to pull while listening to this Konoha Jounin briefly discuss the Hattori Rokumaru refrained from asking immediately, figuring there would be plenty more time to dig into Nayoko’s character and psyche if the man agreed to seeing each other again. And so instead he listened patiently as the Leaf spoke of his family, his close relatives included, and the lack of generally negative things to say about their wellbeing was a refreshing contrast to what he knew happened to many families of shinobi. His mention of the Nozara and the usage of this civilian name rather than the more storied clan name tempted Roku to ask further about why he chose to make this change, but he assumed there were negative connotations to the Hattori that Nayoko may have been trying to distance himself from. He wouldn’t ask, not yet at least.

The older Konoha-nin gave his younger, foreign counterpart the opportunity to speak of his own clan, and the redhead took the chance to indulge the repressed narcissism gnawing at the back of his mind with glee. Nayoko smiled as Roku could not contain the broad grin that came with discussing his family, the younger boy’s enthusiasm seeming to amuse him, but rather than coming across as condescending it felt only  congenial. Rokumaru demonstrated the clan’s ability to manipulate matter using sand suspended in air and pressed onto a flat sheet, explaining that the Sabaku descended from another clan who were more varied with what materials they used. He cautioned the Fire Country native that it was a topic he could ramble on about for hours, Nayoko deflecting the warning with a polite confirmation that he was willing to listen regardless. For being of such high rank the man was rather sedate and easygoing, a disctinction that made the younger teen wonder whether he was so reserved in combat as well.

But given the chance to monologue to a captive audience, he threw that curiosity aside to instead educate this stranger about one of the former Hidden Sand’s great families. Feeling like there was very little left worth keeping secret about the clan, given it existed only as the surname of an unknown amount of refugees and outcasts, he explained that Sabaton was simply a discipline of the Magnet Release and assumed the man knew more about that particular ability than he himself, a simple Chuunin, would know. Whether he already knew this or not was irrelevant as Nayoko nonetheless listened raptly, and to his credit the man did not give him further pity when Roku mentioned that little of the clan remained. The brunette seemed to be inside his head analyzing what the redhead had said.

Talking note of the time on the clock, Rokumaru used the lull in conversation to proposition the Nozara for a chance to spar, citing his curiosity towards the Heart of Iron and his assumptions that this Leaf seemed unlikely to take advantage of the opportunity to kill him outright. Nayoko did not appear to take offense to the idea that he would do such a thing, instead smiling slightly and agreeing to the idea of training together at a later time. If Rokumaru chose to stay in the village after the Chuunin Exams taking up so much of Nayoko’s time and attention were finished, then he would get the chance to truly see what made the man the Jounin that he was today. The only stipulation on this deal was that Roku was to show just exactly what he could do with the sand he seemed to value so highly, as he wondered what a person so young as Roku could do with the ability. The redhead was far from declining; he knew that he was the youngest, smallest and likely weakest shinobi in this whole room full of proctors, and that it was really this single ability he possessed that even allowed him to pursue this whole cursed career that was being a ninja. He would eagerly take the chance to show this treehugging Leaf that he was no frail child playing shinobi. A nod confirmed that Roku accepted the proposal.

Taking a glance at the clock as well, likely impatient for the opening ceremonies to begin, Nayoko retrieved his own paper detailing today’s matches and inquired about any of the matches Rokumaru was tasked with overseeing. The foreigner stared at the tiled floor as he tried to remember the names and descriptions he had just read a few minutes before, failing in this task as he was forced to check the matchup sheet again. He could see why the matches were so forgettable: civilian surnames or mononyms made up the majority of the names beside the fights he was to proctor, only a few recognizable clans among the bunch that caught his attention. This rather mundane thought seemed to stumble across Rokumaru’s mind, as almost all at once he began to realize just how much weight he put into the family names and clans that people tie themselves to, and this Jounin Nozara who instead chose to disguise his clan heritage. A frayed thread in his mind that could be dealt with later, as he was having a rather pleasant conversation at the moment.

Nodding at one set of names he read on the page and folding the paper back up, he looked again at Nayoko as he answered his question. “I’m lucky enough to get a good exhibition,” Rokumaru commented with a smirk. “It’s all garden variety ninja until the last match, an Aburame versus one of those beekeepers from Iwa. If you’re watching the matches I wouldn’t miss that one; might actually have a need for my clumps of sand when there are bugs flying around the place.” Anticipating the match with a grin, he was curious about what the Leaf had ended up with too. “And what about you? Any matches you’ll proctor that I won’t want to miss?”

Given that Konoha was hosting this year’s Exams and likely had the most participants, he asked after the fact, “Any Leaf Genin in the Exams you’re rooting for, while we’re on the topic? There’s a magneteer from Suna in it this year, I’m hoping he makes a good showing.”

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The affirmative nod from his new friend encouraged Nayoko. He was always pleased when he was able to make new friends, especially when they were from other places in the ninja world. When he had first met Ayakashi, Verdandi, Maigo, and all of the other citizens of Kirigakure no Sato, he had grown a great deal. Just knowing them meant that he was better prepared to be a high ranking ninja. The world was filled with politics, and it was impossible to thrive in it without at least a basic understanding of how other parts of the world worked. But befriending a young man with such a unique ability from a place that no longer truly existed was even more interesting to the jounin. As sad as it was; Nayoko knew that people reading of those events in the future would be as fascinated as he was when he was just a boy reading about the founding of the ninja villages. It was a reality that pained him to even think about, but he had been part of history; even if that history was a horrible one that he wished had never occurred. Nayoko looked away from Rokumaru then, hoping to clear such horrible thoughts form his mind by going over the names that were written on his paper.

Much to Nayoko’s surprise, he could recognize most of the names that he saw listed in the exhibition matches. Many of the genin were from Konohagakure no Sato, which was not that unusual especially since the exams were being held in the Hidden Leaf Village. But even so, Nayoko had been away from home for some time, and in the time that he had been gone, many of the name son this paper had gone from academy students or fresh genin to being competing in the Chunin Exams. It was encouraging for him to see that the next generation of ninja were eager to thrive and be a working part of the Village shinobi forces. Perhaps some of them would even join his ANBU forces when they had trained a little bit more. Just seeing the names there made him think of his time as a genin once again. He had never had the chance to participate in the Chunin Exams before being promoted simply form his own merit as a shinobi. His time as a chunin had been short, since he had been promoted to special jounin soon after that once he had worked for a while in the Land of Water. It was after that when things had really slowed down and he was given a chance to grow into a ninja worthy of his rank. Glancing back to Roku, the jounin hoped that he would get that chance to grow as well.

The Hattori folded up his paper as well before turning back to his companion. “I’ll be sure to watch that one if I get the chance. The Aburame are an impressive clan from right here in Konoha, but I’ve never seen them in action. Hopefully I will be able to.” He paused at that and pondered Roku’s question of whether or not he was rooting for anyone. After a moment or two, Nayoko responded. “Well, there are a lot of ninja from the Leaf participating, and obviously I’ll be cheering for one of them. Probably the young Hyuga girl that had shown a great deal of promise in the weeks leading up to the exam. Her dojutsu is certainly a big advantage, so hopefully that can come through for her. If you get a chance to see her in action, I would take it.” The jounin then stood up, indicating that it would soon be time for them to go. “Honestly, I’m just looking forward to seeing how strong the genin are this year. My first match is between an Ouroboros from the Land of Water and a ninja from Kumogakure no Sato. It will make for an interesting bout to be sure.”

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Questioned about whether there were any Leaves among the bunches of Exam participants that he either supported or knew in passing, Nayoko had to check over the match listings as well. The clean shaven brunette commented onthe match between the Aburame and Kamizuru that Rokumaru was tasked with overseeing, admitting that he found Konoha’s resident bug-users to be an impressive clan that he had yet to truly see in action. While it was hard to be prejudiced in a world of people descending from extraterrestrial entities, clans of primal shinobi with animalistic traits and others who ritually amputate limbs to be replaced with prosthetics Roku found it quite easy to be both disgusted and intrigued by the Konoha bloodline who allowed their bodies to be used as hives and tunnels for insects.

The redhead had become familiar with the Kikaichū, having bumped into a cloaked Konoha-nin with a high collar and baggy sleeves while trying to navigate one of the countless crowded streets around the village, and was well-acquainted with their habits of feeding upon chakra that the Aburame used for offensive purposes. Having bumped into one such member of the clan and apparantly offended the man for such a transgression early in the morning, it took until just afternoon had arrived and he was feeling even weaker and looking paler than normal for him to discover just seven of the decimeter-sized insects crawling beneath his clothing. Well, he hadn’t found them, the very helpful medical-nin who had awakened the boy after someone was kind enough to stumble upon his chakra-exhausted body and take him to the hospital had found them. After staying the night there, discovering that he had no medical insurance now that the people in charge of keeping track of that stuff were skeletons in a glass graveyard, and not even getting the satisfaction of knowing the Aburame would be sought out and punished (as, apparantly, it was good sport for the clan to “prank” and harass foreigners like that so long as no one was killed in doing so), Rokumaru was more than happy to take out his frustration on this random Aburame. Not anything drastic like trying to tip the scales in favor of the Iwa beekeeper, but it was not innacurate to say Roku would be a bit slow to call an end to the match should events not fall in favor of the Konoha-nin. Probably would not be invited back to proctor more exams if it came out he was fixing fights for his own reasons.

Nayoko continued on to answer Roku’s question about who he was rooting for to win, mentioning a young kunoichi from the Hyūga clan who had caught his attention as someone with potential to go far in this competition. He remarked upon her ability with the clan’s dōjutsu that gave her an extra advantage over her fellow competitors, and suggested to his redheaded counterpart that he should watch the fight if given the chance. Having met the enigmatic Hyūga Tsuyo recently and managed to wriggle the chance for some private, one-on-one training from the retired Leaf it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get some sort of understanding about the traditional fighting practices taught to the holders of the Byakugan. A man of experience who was able to leave the shinobi career at such a young age would obviously have more tricks up his sleeve than a simple Genin just months or a year out of the Academy, but it would be a solid foundation for what he could assume Tsuyo was capable of. “A Hyūga, huh? Definitely won’t want to miss that match,” Rokumaru commented in agreement with Nayoko’s suggestion.

The scarred Leaf (semi-scarred; his face and neck had a startling absence of scar-tissue unlike what Roku could see from the glimpses of his arms and hands between the fabric of his clothing, a stark contrast that seemed unnatural and wrong, and while he wished no harm upon this polite and cordial Konoha-nin he hoped someone would rectify this distinction by leaving a few slashes on the man’s cheek or brow) stood up as the opening ceremonies were about to begin, the frail redhead following his motion after checking the clock. The Nozara expressed that he was mostly hoping to see what caliber of Genin had been produced for this set of Exams, seeming not too invested in any one match or supporting one Genin over all the others. Speaking on the matches he had been tasked with watching over and proctoring he revealed the first match under his watch was between a Kumo-nin, likely one of civilian descent given that he did not specify any clan or unique ability that could make them stand out immediately, and a Kiri-nin hailing from a clan called the Ouroboros. Roku assumed they were a clan at least; he was familiar with the name through iconography, a symbol depicting serpentine creatures like snakes or dragons eating their own tail in a circular pattern that was meant to signify the infinite cycles of life and natural order that shall always exist. He was not aware that there were shinobi who adopted the moniker for their own and imagined that they had serpent-like qualities. Maybe they aged at unfathomable speeds and cycled back and forth between the stages of life, existing as an elderly person one year and an infant several decades later, using the Ouroboros symbol to signify their own cycles of life that came and went. Unlikely, as that sounded like a pretty goofy ability even to Rokumaru.

“I’ve never heard of the Ouroboros, maybe I should keep an eye out on that match too.” Several of the other proctors who had been strewn around the room talking amongst themselves or preparing for their duties began to leave the room and head for the exhibition area as the time for opening ceremonies grew nearer. Feeling that he should say his farewells to the newfound acquaintance that he had found in Nozara Nayoko the Hattori, the redhead gestured towards the door with a thin pale hand. “I suppose we better go do what they’re paying us for.”

Taking a moment to tighten his tan flak jacket, missing the bulky pauldrons he had discarded long ago and hoping he had enough sand in his pockets that he wouldn’t need his gourd left stashed in the forest, he spoke again to the older Fire Country shinobi. “Thank you for passing the time with me. I’ll be back for that spar you promised me some day.” Likely after this strange purgatory he existed in ended, if it ever did, and he could get the chance to orient himself again and get his bearings. The last thing he needed in this time of uncertainty was to be offering Jounin from other villages opportunities to cut him down out in the wilderness.

Smiling despite the disappointment he felt at having to leave one of the few people who actually seemed interested in speaking with the dour, gaunt wanderer, Rokumaru voiced the sentiments dwelling in the back of his psyche. “I hope that we can be something close to friends, Nayoko, even if your duties to your village happen to make us enemies one day. You’re definitely less stuck up than I’d be if I ever become a Jounin like you.”

Not wanting to dwell around the Nozara and tip him off to how much saying farewell upset him, having gotten caught up in an encounter that temporarily distracted from the encroaching wall of despair the Sabaku somehow managed to compartmentalize deep in his subconscious, Rokumaru stuck around to give the man a chance to say farewell back before leaving.

Turning towards the door, the sand user walked away from the cordial native to Hi no Kuni as he prepared himself for a long day of keeping the violence between adolescents at a respectable limit. “Stay safe out there, Leaf,” he called over his shoulder before exiting the room they had been waiting in.

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As Nayoko continued to speak with he young sand wielding shinobi, he felt a measure of pity begin to build inside of him. The boy was attentive and seemed to be in good spirits, but Nayoko knew that there was something that had been precious to him that was not taken away. He knew the feeling well. When his mother had died, it had nearly destroyed him, even as such a young boy. He had not fully understood what exactly had happened at the time, but as he grew older, he had simply grown angry for a time. It was not until the Hattori had found a purpose in fulfilling his mother’s dream for him that he had found a certain measure of inner peace. Nayoko was not sure whether or not that peace had come for Rokumaru yet, but if it had not, the jounin hoped that it would soon. The darkness of loss and depression was one of the hardest things he had ever faced, and to know that this boy, along with thousands of others that had lived in Sunagakure no Sato had lost far more than he had, nearly broke his heart. Even so, the sage knew that if he showed even a fraction of that pity to this young man, he was proud enough to take offense to it. So Nayoko simply smiled on, nodding at the boy’s words and doing his best to keep his mind form drifting to the broken past.

“I suppose we better go do what they’re paying us for.” Nayoko blinked as his thoughts returned to the present at Rokumaru’s words. The young man’s hand was gesturing toward the door which Nayoko followed to get a sense of the urgency. People from all corners of the waiting area seemed o be filing toward the door so that they could head to their respective matches. Looking at the small crown of proctors, Nayoko could not help but smile softly at the sight. Men and women from all over the ninja world, despite their differences, were gathered in his home to celebrate an age old tradition of competition and honour. They were not there to fight one another over anything other than bragging rights. That fellowship encouraged the jounin as he took in the symbols of ninja from all over the world. The thought of what the great hidden villages could do if everyone would work together was exciting, and it highlighted the contrast of when they world against one another. The Sungakure reclamation project had only been one such historical failure on the part of the great villages. Perhaps they needed to look to times of peace like this as opportunities to grow together, rather than to train apart. With a short nod, the jounin stood up to face his new friend.

As the jounin looked down at the young man, he let out a soft chuckle at his comment and began to bow slightly. No matter how many years his junior, Rokumaru was a guest in his home and he would be treated with that level of respect. “Thank you for your time as well; I'm gld I could learn something new.” Nayoko said with a friendly smile. “Best of luck with your matches too. An don’t think that the offer of training was just words. We’ll fight one of these days, and when we do, I look forward to seeing what you’re capable of.” With those last words, Nayoko waved goodbye to the former Suna-nin before pulling up his hood and heading for his match. He had a match to proctor.

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Soon enough it was time for the next set of matches between ambitious young Genin to begin, everyone filing out of the room to go prepare for their share of the responsibility in supervising. Nayoko regarded the other proctors leaving the room with a smile that Rokumaru could not find a reason for; being much older and experienced than the out of place redhead the Nozara likely viewed these strangers as peers and comrades with skill similar to his own, maybe feeling solidarity and comraderie with those who had volunteered to proctor matches for the exams. Rokumaru on the other hand knew he was barely qualified to be a part of these proceedings, knowing he was the weakest person in the room, and if those other Jounin weren’t as cordial and easygoing as Nayoko seemed to be he could be found out for the fraud he was. The redhead felt quite relieved when most of them had left, leaving him and his companion alone with a few other stragglers for a brief moment.

Feeling their time together was drawing to a close Roku expressed his hopes to Nayoko that they could come to be something resembling friends despite the differences in their allegiance. There was a very worrying shortage of people he knew of that could be trusted, to even the slightest degree, and it would only prove beneficial in Rokumaru’s case for him to form a connection to the one Leaf in the room who found something worthy enough in the boy to approach him. Maybe he could guess that the redhead was insufficient compared to the other proctors, much younger and very obviously a victim of poverty.

The Hattori chuckled amiably and thanked the boy in turn for passing the time with him, appreciative for the scant information that had been revealed in the course of their conversation. Nayoko wished his new acquaintance good luck in regards to the matches that were about to go on, the sentiment appreciated by the very nervous Rokumaru, and expressed just how much he was looking forward to the spar he had offered to the redhead. With that he excused himself with a wave in goodbye, which the younger man returned with a grin, and pulled the hood hanging from his jacket up over his dark hair before disappearing into the halls of the stadium the matches were taking place in. Rokumaru called after him to remind the Leaf to stay safe then left the room as well. Stopping at a restroom to quickly urinate while he had the chance, long hours of waiting ahead of him with the chance he would not have the chance again, Rokumaru made a mental note to keep a careful eye on the Konoha-nin he had just met while the man was on the field supervising matches. Stealing the soap to be used later, packing sand into several pockets to free up space for the hygienic products, he made it to the exhibition area just in time to catch the opening ceremonies.

---

Another day of the Chuunin Exams held in Konoha began with opening ceremonies as everyone prepared for more of the matches that had been taking place that month. There were several backup proctors on hand in case the need to be replaced came up, but overall Rokumaru found the whole ordeal to be far less eventful than he had been expecting. Enough proctors were present that they were regularly rotated between matches to maintain their watchfulness and maintain any fatigue that managed to build up. Not that it was really necessary; the first few matches Roku had been tasked with proctoring went smoothly without incident, the Genin seeming to keep with the spirit of the competition without going overboard, and it seemed to be among the more easier B-Rank missions he’d undertake in his life.

Among the matches under his watch there were few of real interest, even the Clanborn among the constestants having little in the way of abilities that could be considered C-Rank or higher. Among these younger shinobi Rokumaru actually felt somewhat capable; his own ninjutsu outclassed most of what they could do, if only barely, and his level of physical fitness seemed further along than they had. Throughout the matches there had been no need to intervene on behalf of any of the Genin as most matches ended with knockouts or forfeits. Overall, he was more than satisfied with the amount of work involved to gain a higher payout, thinking this mission could have been a C if not for the inherent danger involved with spars and combat.

The match that he had been looking forward to the most and had encouraged Nayoko to watch, the match between rival bug users from Iwa and Konoha, never happened. The Kamizuru had been arrested that morning on charges of petty vandalism around the Aburame clan compound, something that really tickled Rokumaru as he pictured the envious foreigner playing pranks on the family of walking terrariums; he hoped the Leaf he had been approached by earlier was not looking forward to the match like he had. But the disappointment was forgotten by the time that the final match for the day had taken place and finished, Rokumaru’s thoughts on the sizeable payout waiting for him at the administration building. Satisfied that nothing had gone wrong among the matches and that no one could say he hadn’t done the barest minimum while doing the job, he left the stadium to collect his ryo.

The Chūnin Exams would continue on for another few weeks, but as far as Rokumaru was concerned there was nothing else about the competition that would be of use or if interest to him. Given that he knew none of the participants that were involved with the whole event, and therefore would not have to concern himself with keeping up to date in the brackets and match results, there was no reason to waste time or thought on it. This job working as a proctor for the matches had been easy enough considering it was ranked similar to what animal hunts and bandit raids would come out to be, but the fact that it occupied his whole day and paid out less than was acceptable for losing so many hours that could have been used productively turned Rokumaru off from accepting more missions like that. It was better to spend eight hours churning through D and C-Ranked missions one after the other rather than waste a whole day on one single mission, like he had today.

Then again he would not have had the chance to meet the Jounin Nozara if he had not decided to pursue this mission, a prospect he was less than comfortable with. The Leaf seemed nice enough for a high-ranking foreigner and had even invited Rokumaru along to spar or train with him someday, some much needed experience that the redhead would definitely need down the road. Networking was never a priority for the boy, even when he had been among a whole village full of sand Shinobi who could trust and rely on each other, but now that he was alone that would need to take a much higher priority. He ambled to the administration center to receive his ryo while thinking of his next meeting with Nayoko.

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