NOTES:

Shinobi – another name for ninja

Henge – transformation technique

-chan – Japanese honorific of endearment or for kids

-kun- Japanese honorific for boys or professional/student relationships

Soudaime- first generation hokage

Nidaime- second generation hokage

Sandaime- third generation hokage

Gen Jutsu/Jitsu

By: Seravy

"Next!"

The lanky young woman announced it with a set of full stern lungs. A child walked forward, announced his name, performed the transformation technique then stepped back to his place. She jotted down a grade, her heart soothed with absolute contentment which can only be expressed with a curt nod. This is what she loved to do; seeing her students grow under her strict but nurturing care, everything going orderly as planned. Discipline comes first and she was here to do an important job in training these future shinobis. The next few children were satisfactory as well, progress once again under her prediction.

However, her personal heaven was soon interrupted by the next name on her list, a name that brought about a twitch in her brows, ruining her natural frown. She reached up for her straight square glasses, cleaning them, hoping she had only seen wrong. After putting them back upon her long pointed nose, the name had only gotten clearer, chills zipping through her spine.

This was just a standard test but like all the other ones this year, it wasn't going to end like one. She swallowed, noticing the scheming smile that was watching her expectedly with malicious glee. She gritted her teeth, delaying the inevitable but eventually gave up and opened her mouth.

"Mitarashi." She spitted the last part out with as little spite as she can manage, "Anko."

"Alright! Yeah Yeah! About time, granny! Saving the best for last, eh? You sly one, you!"

Michika Nao (27 and still single) wanted to cry. If not for her professionalism, she would have too. For some odd reasons, this particular student was never on time, never here for class unless escorted to them, but whenever it was midterms, she was there, on the dot. Not a second more, not a second less.

"Mitarashi-kun, henge," sighed Nao in resignation, "and nothing, I repeat, NOTHING like what you did last time."

Just thinking about the last incident was enough to make her hurl. She glared at the child before her, scanning that ridiculous purple shirt and clashing yellow jump-pants for any tricks. The clothing was a complete eyesore but she had long gotten use to it.

"Relax! Just let the master do her work!" was the unreassuring answer she got.

A huge grin was plastered over the little girl's face, enthusiasm radiating from her lithe body as she brought her hands together to form the appropriate seal.

'Kami-sama, please have mercy on me,' prayed Nao.

A soft blue chakra gathered, whipping up a soft breeze. All Nao could do was brace herself, having long given up on correcting the "granny" names, along with a never-ending list of troubles.

"Anko-sama Super henge!"

The chakra dispersed, replaced by an unusually large puff of smoke. Nao batted it away with stern determination ready to face the impossible be it fecal matter (like the last time) or the end of this world.

Instead, she heard a voice. A deep, reassuring one which she had heard many times in her dreams. The voice repeated itself, calling her name softly, the familiar face clearing before her eyes.

"Yano-kun!" gasped Nao.

The man she had secretly admired for 2 years. Why was he here? Maybe he came to save her, or ask her on a date… A soft blush touched her face but as the thick screen of haze finally cleared, her pounding heart dropped kicked her straight in the stomach. Sure, it was Yano-kun, but in a frilly pink bra and matching panties, a set of chacha in his hands, singing---

"Hey hey! Nao-chan! Wanna go out with me? Love you even if you're flat, babe!"

Everything just stopped working in her body, be it essential functions or not. Some part of her already delicate mental state was shattered into bits. She didn't know which was worst, fecal matter or a middle-aged man in such sheer attire shaking his ass like no tomorrow.

-------------------------------

The old man in his late sixties puffed on his pipe. There was rarely any tobacco in it. Most of the time, he only nibbled on the end, or puffed on it habitually for amusement but today was an exception. A thin line of gray smoke rose from the jutting end of his pipe, a bitter taste lingering in his throat.

"Again?" sighed the Hokage of Konohagure, in resignation.

The messenger before him could only nod meekly. It was no secret that one of the sandaime's legendary students had yet to take up an apprentice. Surely, all three of them were stubborn and picky in their own ways but this young man in question was in a class of his own in terms of peculiarity. He would humour his teacher for a week or two and after that, fail those students with creative excuses and tactics every time.

Of course, that didn't stop the third from sending more potentials to him, hoping that one of them can change his mind but now, the problem had escalated; the genins who were assigned to him this year were now in the hospital, spouting nonsense about never wanting to be a ninja.

Sarutobi took another long breathe, filtered by the burning leaves in his pipe. It is mandatory for any high level shinobi to train lower level ninjas at some point. This was a sure way to pass on special skills and ensure a line of strong soldiers for the future. But practical reasons aside, he was hoping for someone who could teach his reclusive student something that he himself was unable to pass onto him… something simple but valuable that had been missing since the first day he saw the pale boy.

-------------------------

Everyone in the village at some point took their time to gawk and stare at the new and improved memorial mountain of the previous hokages. Shoudaime now sported red pouty lips and heavy purple mascara while Nidaime suffered a case of serious buckteeth and pink blush to the cheeks. Sandaime was a little more fortunate with black circles around the eyes and red streaks cross the cheeks and there was no doubt as to who the culprit was since the name was written straight across the three chiseled faces with a proud "–chan" added to the end. (Little did they know that this wouldn't be the last time.)

"You're not going home until this entire mountain is restored to its previous state," growled Nao, her voice echoing into the distance.

Just below her was a trolley hanging down to the Soudaime's rouge lips and the academy teacher watched the little girl on it with utmost frustration. The last time she had to bring out this trolley was when the academy was turned into a mural painting of fighting stick figures, courtesy of this same student. Nao watched the sunset with grinding jaws, arms crossed tightly over her chest with impatience. Not only was she stuck supervising the mountain's clean-up, she was also missing her ritual walk with her Yano-kun.

"Meanie, granny, no wonder your wrinkles are developing prematurely," grumbled Anko. She was sure she had kept her voice low but a single kunai landed just before her toes, a few strands of her deep purple hair floating before her eyes.

"I'm being more than generous considering what you did this morning, Mitarashi."

"I thought you liked Yano-sensei. That was special service for you!" protested the ten year old.

Five more shurikens nearly found its mark, effectively silencing Anko into diligent scrubbing.

Next Chapter: How to fail a failing student 101

The graduation exam is here but Nao is more than ready to fail Anko. (13 years old Kurenai makes her appearance as well)