"Where's the client?" Hiruzen Sarutobi asked incredulously, smoking on his pipe with the same habitual, slow intake of air that arose under stressful conditions. As the Hokage, the leader of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, stressful conditions were quite the norm. But today, well, was even more stressful than usual.

First off, team Seven. Four shinobi, three fresh-out-of-the-academy Genin, all twelve years of age, and one Jōnin leader to keep them in line. It was the common, rarely deviated set-up that introduced these ninja to the dangers of the outside world. In this case, it was two top-tier students combined with the lowest of the low.

Sasuke Uchiha, one of only two survivors of a massacre half a decade earlier that annihilated the clan whose surname he bore. In spite of that, and the brooding nature that could probably be attributed to the horrendous tragedy, females of the age group almost unanimously, and completely vainly, sought to gain his affection. Whether it was the unkempt black hair or the body that was honed through the training that took place of any real social interaction, he was deemed attractive by peers of the opposite gender.

The opposite gender included the second top-tier member of the team, Sakura Haruno. Female, and with a thin but soft build that was not entirely suited for the rigors of field reconnaissance, Sakura considered herself the brains of the group: after all, she did score the highest grades in the academy. She also bore bright pink hair that flowed down her back. Although considered by many to be a Haruno trait, the nasty truth was that the Haruno clan had a tendency to put pink dye in the females' shampoo bottles starting at an early age.

And, lastly, the dead-last. With blond hair that was as spiky as his personality, he was the epitome of all things that weren't ninja. For his super-stealthy ninja garb, he wore an orange jacket with a white color and blue on the sleeves, and matching all-orange pants. And, no, this wasn't the subtle type of orange that worked well to camouflage in bare-earth environments. No, this was the type of orange so bright and uncouth that it wouldn't go unnoticed by a blind man. Even the girl's athletic red skirt, and the black-haired kid's navy blue shirt and white shorts, didn't hold a candle to this blonde's wardrobe in terms of being completely anti-ninja, and that, my friends, is pretty darn impressive.

But, considering that he is the star of one of the series that this little story is, er, borrowing, it goes without saying that his name is Naruto Uzumaki. He was brilliant, an all-around great guy, and no doubt the greatest ninja to ever adorn these lands since the Sage of the Six Paths. Okay, so the last sentence was a complete and utter fabrication, but it wouldn't stop Naruto from agreeing with it without a moment's hesitation.

To round out this untraditional team was their Jōnin leader, Kakashi Hatake. With one eye covered by his silver-plated headband, his hitaite, and the entirely of his face below his exposed eye covered by a thick, deep blue cloth that was tucked past his neck, Kakashi's appearance was probably the most ninja-like of all of them. Even with the silvery hair that stuck out the top of the headband, Kakashi still looked like a true ninja. His clothes, a cloth-armor forest green vest over a black long-sleeve shirt and matching pants, were much more suitable for blending into the environment. The only thing that stood out was also impossibly orange: thesmut novel that took much of the man's attention, even as the four of them stood in the Hokage's office, awaiting their first real mission. That's right: the man was in a formal political office nonchalantly reading what amounts to written porn in front of a high-ranking official, two strangers, and three children.

After a month's worth of pseudo-missions that never got more dangerous than chasing deranged housecats hell-bent on staying away from their obese and obsessive-compulsive owners, they had managed to convince the leader that they were ready for something real.

So, giving in, Hiruzen had asked an old man, their first client, to walk in and introduce himself. He had the entire scenario in his head: an old bridge builder, drunk, would walk in and pick a fight with Naruto in particular, complaining that he wanted not the kids, but actual shinobi. Eventually, they would reluctantly resume the mission, and be out of the Hokage's receding hair for a few weeks.

Too bad that wasn't the case. Usually, Hiruzen had the uncanny ability to sense a bad day long before it came, allowing him ample time to prepare for the unholy chaos that would result.

Today, though, misfortune blind-sighted him, throwing a haymaker so furious that the resulting daze seemed to go on forever. Either the bridge builder was a shinobi capable of producing clones of himself and altering their appearance, or he was replaced by two much younger and much more physically fit men. That, or the haymaker was hard enough to jostle his brain loose. You would be amazed by how much these kind of punches hurt, considering that they are entirely figurative and, hence, not remotely physical.

"Tasuna was escorted back to the land of the waves," said the first man. Standing at just past five-foot-ten, he was the taller, and no doubt older, of the two. Unfortunately, a black mask and matching wardrobe completely masked any and all other features. The cloak itself even ebbed and flowed unnaturally, as if constantly tugged by a tangle of puppeteer's strings, and that only make his physical form more intangible. The only hint of humanity was the strands of blond hair the escaped through the top of the white circular mask and the hood of the cloak. "There were too many other ninja wanting rather desperately to take his life, and I sincerely doubt that a single Genin team would be capable of handling this mission without a great risk to their lives, even with a Jōnin sensei to lead them."

"Well said, Raijin," the younger one said. Like his partner, he was cloaked in a similar, physics-defying cloak, but did not cover his head. He was a few years older than the Genin, but most certainly not an adult. He carried himself like one, though. "A level-A shinobi by the name of Zabuza Momochi and his partner are among Gato's forces, the ones responsible for giving Tazuna and the Land of Waves such hardship." While keeping track of the boy's words, Kakashi took the time to take in the boy's appearance. His face was thin and angular, with unnatural yet striking yellow eyes and shiny black hair that lay flat on his head, banes falling down to his eyes in perfectly kept spikes.

"So, it would have been higher than a C-rank," Hiruzen replied. "While I appreciate your intervention, Raijin and…"

"Shin."

"…Shin, I do believe it is my own decision as to whether or not to accept a mission."

"No offense," the presumably older Raijin replied, raising his hand and pointing his finger to the ceiling, demonstrating that the man, or at least his hand, was human. "…but having a bridge builder beg for protection from a bunch of burglars does not exactly raise any red flags. I mean, had we not actually seen Momochi and the gang for ourselves, I doubt we would even be here, at least not yet."

"We'd kick their asses anyway." Naruto jumped up and down. His unimpressive display of machismo didn't impress anyone around him, and only quick reflexes save his head from being caved in by Sakura's fist. Sasuke stood idly by, pondering to himself whether he should feel sorry for Naruto having the negative end of Sakura's outburst, or feeling sorry for Sakura for having such lousy aim.

Kakashi cleared his throat, trying to garner a response from his team. "I'm sorry, but it looks like our C-Rank mission will be postponed. Oh well." Kakashi's voice took on a creepily cheery tone. "It looks like we're back to D-ranks again."

Oh, that was unforgiveable.

"No!" Naruto and Sakura, much to each other's surprise, spoke up simultaneously. The resulting clamor was largely indecipherable, with each Genin trying to overpower the other in terms of vocal intensity, but the general gist was pretty easy to grasp. The empty threats of suicide didn't hurt, either.

"I must ask for forgiveness on behalf of our green Genin," Hiruzen hastily announced, loud enough to bring the noise to a halt, "but they have been antsy for a mission outside the village gates for some time now."

"I'm a teacher at an academy of students not much older than they are," Raijin said. "I'm used to it. I know what it's like."

"Don't forget why we are here, Raijin," Shin pressed.

"Alas, my young lad, I think I have forgotten," Raijin replied. If Hiruzen didn't know any better, he would have sworn that the adolescent's reactive gaze was lethal. At the very least, the potted plants that lined the office would have to be checked just in case. It was either that, or more paperwork, and both jobs seemed about equally productive. Plus, he really didn't want to bury these plants like the last batch, with fell grave to a sudden case of death by office fire. "What was it your father wanted us to do again, kiddo?"

"Why is it that I have to do all the work?" Shin cleared his throat. "Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi, we would like to make a proposal of offering our services in exchange for shelter in the village and, should the right opportunity come, to create an extension of our academy within the village walls."

Hiruzen raised his eyebrow, both in suspicion and in curiosity. "I take it, when you mean services, you mean contributing as shinobi."

"No," Shin said curtly.

"Actually, partly," Raijin contradicted. "If you like, we can demonstrate our skills at a later time. Shin here isn't so good with stealth, but you'll find me more than capable as a Chūnin, possibly a Jōnin if you are willing to tolerate me being a little rusty at first."

"You have training as a shinobi?" Shin asked. Apparently, the two didn't know each other particularly well. "Father never mentioned that to me."

"It rarely comes up." He turned back to the Hokage, whom had been listening while the two exchanged words. A gut feeling was telling him that something was very off about Raijin in particular. Granted, they were both wearing those black cloaks, and Raijin didn't even have the manners to take off his mask, so the fact that he was only getting an "off" feeling, instead of the instinct to fight, was almost troubling in and of itself. "Shin's a street fighter, and a darn good one too."

Kakashi cleared his throat. "Raijin, Shin, you two are both very good at one thing: skirting the real issue here."

"Says the one holding standing in the Hokage's office brandishing a porno," Raijin snarked. "But, nonetheless, you are correct, White Hair."

Kakashi's reply was cool, collected, and without a moment's hesitation. "The name's Kakashi Hatake, not White-Hair."

"Kakashi?" Raijin repeated, mulling over the term. It was impossible to determine any expression through the mask, and that fact was unnerving Kakashi. At least his mask was cloth, and he could convey whatever emotions he wanted to with nothing more than his one exposed eye. And that emotion was curiosity. Namely, Raijin's mask was way to shiny and circular to actually be a mask, and its shape looked far too much like the bottom of a black dinner plate with eyeholes drilled into it. "In either case, I'm actually glad your team is here, Mister Hatake. An idea just came to me, actually."

"And that is?" Sakura chirped. For some reason, she was smitten by Shin in particular. Dark in appearance, no dark dark in personality, it was as if Shin was a lankier, yellow-eyed, less depressed Sasuke that actually knew the definition of a haircut. No, she thought to herself, Sasuke still comes first.

"I meant to put it off until later, but the opportunity is too much to pass up." Raijin paused for dramatic effect, holding a flashy pose with his arms raised. Alas, his sense of dramatic timing seemed to be running out of batteries, as the silence lasted way too long and the pose slowly sagged. "I'm going to resume my work as a teacher of the Academy, and teach one of these Genin."

"You know you need to ask my father's permission…" Shin was interrupted when Raijin clapped his hands together.

"No, I won't. You will." Raijin replied. Shin groaned, before coming to the realization that Raijin was not talking directly to him.

"I am dreading this more and more. As long as I'm here, I am not going to allow you to start coming up with one of your crazy schemes. I think dad is starting to rub off on you the wrong way."

"He is good with the kids. Besides, I know the perfect solution to this dilemma. Hey, kiddo, I need you to do something for me." Raijin bent over, and whispered something into Shin's ear.

What happened next was nothing less than a melt-down for the record books. Shin appeared to completely ignore the words he received. As Raijin set forth to converse with the team on the effects of high sodium intake on a hot summer day, Shin began to visibly quiver, muttering under his breath like a madman. Before long, the kid was on the ground, his hands clasped over his temples like a vice, trembling. Finally, he gave in.

"I swear, Raijin, I know you are lying! I… I have to go use the restroom!" With that, Shin fled at superhuman speeds, much to the amazement of the observers, and the amusement of Raijin.

"What, exactly, did you do?" Hiruzen asked after regaining his composure.

"I told him that I had accidentally left a sock on the floor of the hotel room. That should buy us a few hours."

Naruto guffawed. "He's a neat freak, huh? That's pathetic. And, on top of that, what kind of mask is that? I see a bunch of shinobi with animal masks. What is yours?"

"I call it 'Dinner Plate with Eyeholes'. I needed to improvise, and this was all the hotel had. As for shin, you have no idea. But, let's not talk about use. Which of you green Genin is the worst of your team? Kakashi, you stay out of it."

Both Hiruzen and Kakashi stepped forward to protest, but were interrupted by the sound of two of the Genin: in particular, the sound resulting from the interaction of one girl's fist and one boy's forehead. Apparently, for Sakura, throwing punches was easier than pointing fingers. Sasuke made no attempt to intervene, again, and instead looked on the boy with a small amount of pity and a significantly stronger sense of annoyance. His vote was set as well. Regardless of what Naruto thought, he was outvoted two to one. Unless Naruto would somehow vote for himself, for which the decision would then become unanimous.

"Good, that's settled. Naruto, in a few days, with your Hokage's permission, and the permission of my boss, I would like to train you for a few months. But first, you'll have to complete a small test."

"I blatantly refuse," Hiruzen interrupted. "You are an outsider to this village. I will not allow you to interact with Naruto, or any of our Genin, for an extended period of time until you have sufficiently proven your intentions as genuine."

"I can assure you, that it will not take very long," Raijin said. "I have quite the compelling argument that I can give you. In the meantime, I need to give Naruto this. Use it first thing in the morning, but make sure you clean up first."

Nightfall had come and gone. Anxiety had made for a fitfull night, and thus Naruto was still fighting off some grogginess, but he had promptly dressed himself the moment the first ray of sunlight made it through his window.

As the man had instructed, he spent the next several minute going through his morning routine, taking a long shower in hopes that the heat would clear up his head (it didn't, really). Not bothering with breakfast, Naruto decided to open the brown paper envelope that the stranger gave him. Inside was a piece of paper, and an oddly bluish purple crayon with a skull on the paper that wrapped around it.

Didn't seem particularly harmful, so, out of boredom, he decided to unfold the paper and begin reading. Before long, his face fell.

"What kind of joke is this? Yes, I know the crayon washes off, but seriously! And why did he say for me to dress up?" Annoyed, Naruto reluctantly walked to his restroom, determined, if for no other reason than the complete lack of anything to do today, to just see what would happen. If this was for naught, there was one masked adult that will be getting the beating of his life. When Naruto found himself in front of his sink, looking deeply into his mirror, he couldn't help but feel some unease. What happened if this worked? Heck, how would he be able to tell if anything happened?

Well, it was better now than never. Crayon in hand, Naruto copied the list of numbers on his piece of paper directly on the mirror.

And…

…

…

Absolutely nothing. Naruto sat around for over a minute, and the only thing that changed over that time was Naruto's growing impatience.

Oh, Raijin is dead!

"Hello?"

The voice completely startled Naruto. Slowly, Naruto turned to the mirror. Instead of himself staring back, it was the bust of another black-cloaked figure, but instead of a dinner plate, the new person's mask was much more suitable: a jaw-less, deformed skull with three long, pointed teeth pointing down to about where the neck was, although it was hard to gauge exactly where the neck would actually be. Although the eyeholes were quite large, within them was pitch black.

That, however, was probably the scariest thing about what he was seeing, though. The black cloak, rather than ebbing and flowing, was angular and jagged, pointed at the shoulders, neck, and head. On top of the head, the cloth folded into itself like a piece of paper, ending in a sharp point on the top. Lastly, the man's hands, which were clasped in front of him, were extremely large and boxy, not unlike those foam fingers one sees at spectator sports events, and stark white.

"Uzumaki, is it?" To top it all off, the man's voice was high-pitched, and bounced around in a playful tone. "I just had a little personal moment with one of my staff, so sorry for taking so long to answer. Raijin said that he had taken you on as his pupil. I must say, you must have had quite the impact on him, I do believe."

Naruto didn't answer. One, he wasn't quite sure of what to make of the man. Two, he wasn't sure what to make of becoming a student of someone he didn't know. And, three, he was still wrapping his mind around the fact that he was talking to something through his own mirror. All of which were pretty understandable given the circumstances.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself," he said. "I am Shinigami, Lord of Death. I'm glad to meet your acquaintance, Naruto Uzumaki."

"Uh, huh…" Naruto nodded. The Lord of Death… sure…

"I must say, though, it is quite rare for students to contact me directly without the supervision of their teachers. I find it quite refreshing actually, seeing someone build the courage to talk to me. Shows great courage."

"I'm sorry," Naruto stammered, "but I didn't even know what would happen if I wrote on the mirror. I wasn't expecting this." Thinking quickly, he forced his hands together. "Of course, this has to be an illusion!" He focused, until subtle warmth enveloped his hands. "Illusion, release! Be gone! I'm tired of this prank! Mercy! I call uncle!"

"Sorry, but that isn't going to work," Shinigami warned jovially. "This is no illusion, you see. If I could leave the city, I would come and personally introduce myself, so I hope that Raijin and Kiddo aren't treating you too badly. Unfortunately, I'm bound to this city, and have been for several hundred years now." Shinigami sighed to himself. Even the eyeholes of his mask furrowed in exasperation. "That's now beside the point. What is important is that you begin your training posthaste. Raijin is one of my most powerful weapons."

"Weapons?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot to elaborate. You see, there are humans in this world who can transform themselves into weapons. Both of Kiddo's partners, for example, are weapons, as is Raijin. In fact, Raijin is one of my most powerful, so much so that he is officially referred to as a Death Scythe, of which there are less than a dozen in the entire world. And, no, he isn't actually a scythe, just to let you know. Nonetheless, I think he will prove to be most beneficial to you, Naruto."