Johan – POV
After the introductions with the others, Tenzo led me to the ANBU training ground, a secluded, silent field wrapped in shadow. It felt like the air itself was holding its breath.
That's when I saw him. Again.
An ANBU stood in the shade, unmoving, like a statue carved from dusk itself. His mask was shaped like a owl, sleek, pointed, and emotionless. It covered everything but said more than any face could.
Tenzo's voice turned grim. "Meet him. Codename: Owl."
I kept my eyes on him. "Hello," I said, tone measured, gaze sharp.
He looks strong. Dangerous. Controlled.
Tenzo continued, "Owl, this is Johan. A trainee, personally assigned by Lord Hokage. He'll be under your guidance."
Owl didn't respond. Didn't move. Just stared. Silent as a grave.
Tenzo looked at me with meaning. "Learn well. If Owl says you're ready… you'll become a full-fledged ANBU."
I gave a small, unreadable smile. "Understood. I'm eager to learn."
And more eager to see what's behind those masks you all wear.
Then Tenzo left. And the silence swallowed everything.
Owl said nothing. I didn't either. The quiet between us was thick, watchful, loaded.
Finally, he spoke. His voice was calm. Low. Icy.
"Good. You know patience. It will get you far."
I gave a slight nod.
Patience is survival. And I've survived more than they'll ever know.
"Let's start with a spar," he said.
I welcomed it. This was what I wanted, to see where I stood. To measure myself against a real ANBU.
I locked onto him, scanning every twitch, every breath.
Then he vanished.
Fast.
I felt him behind me. Instinct screamed. I dropped low, just as a kunai sliced through the space my face had been.
But before I could recover, a foot slammed into my ribs, blunt force, sharp pain. I stumbled back, breath ragged, but stayed on my feet.
I knew he'd be good. But this? This is something else.
Perfect. Exactly what I wanted.
I threw a kunai. He batted it aside without even blinking.
But that wasn't the real move.
I substituted myself mid-throw, reappearing behind him. My foot lashed out, aimed straight at his back.
He popped into smoke.
Shadow clone. Of course.
I froze, recalibrated. Senses flaring.
Then I saw him, stepping out from behind a tree like he'd been watching the whole time.
"Good with basics," he said, voice still flat. "You know nothing about real ninjutsu. Your taijutsu's… acceptable."
I didn't reply. Didn't flinch. I just stared back cold, sharp, waiting.
He went on, "Training starts tomorrow. Early morning. Taijutsu first. Then ANBU code systems. After that, ninjutsu or genjutsu. And finally, espionage and intelligence gathering."
Then he stepped forward, close enough for the threat in his voice to settle into my bones.
"Tell no one about the secrets you learn here. Not a word. Break that order…"
His eyes narrowed behind the mask.
"…and you'll face consequences."
I held his gaze. Then nodded.
Sure. We'll see about that.
You think you're in control. That you're watching me. But one day… I'll show you who I really am.
He turned away. "Dismissed."
---
Early the next morning, the mist still hung low and cold when I arrived at the training ground. Owl was already there, motionless again, like he hadn't moved since yesterday. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he simply waits in the dark between moments, watching.
Without a word, he lunged. The lesson had begun.
We trained in taijutsu, brutal, relentless, raw. His strikes were clean, surgical, and without mercy. My limbs ached. Ribs bruised. But I kept going. Pain is just another teacher.
At one point, he swept my legs from under me and drove me into the dirt. The world spun. Then his voice came like frost in my ear:
"Get up."
I did. Again. And again. Until the lesson ended not with words, but with silence. Approval, perhaps, hidden behind the mask. Or maybe just boredom.
After a brief rest, barely enough to catch my breath, I was handed a thick manual.
The ANBU Code System.
It wasn't just rules. It was a doctrine. Strategy layered over strategy. Unseen rules for unseen wars. Every gesture, every breath, could mean something else. Hidden signals, silent warnings, untraceable orders.
This… this was the kind of structure I needed. A framework to bury secrets in.
After lunch, Owl approached again. Still wordless. Still unreadable.
"Chakra nature," he said flatly, holding out a slip of chakra paper.
I pressed my chakra into it, and watched as half of it curled into flame… while the other half split clean down the center like a blade carving air.
Owl tilted his head slightly. "Fire and Wind."
He threw two scrolls. I caught them mid-air.
"Inferno Snap. Gale Slash," he said. "C-Rank. You'll start with these."
Two elements. Two jutsu. Two weapons.
A slow smile crept onto my lips.
So I'm starting with fire and wind already.
Very well. Let it begin.
Owl left without another word, vanishing into the trees like a passing thought. I sat down beneath a shadowed canopy and opened the scrolls. The jutsu were elegant. Efficient.
After an hour or two, he returned, soundless, sudden, like a shadow folding itself into flesh.
He didn't speak. Not at first.
"You learn quickly. But quickly isn't enough."
He stepped closer, the air around him colder now.
And then the lesson began.
Espionage. Deception. Infiltration.
He taught me how to vanish, not through chakra, but intention. To make others ignore you, forget you were ever there. A trick of posture, timing, silence. How to steal voices. Mimic writing. Erase traces.
How to lie so perfectly that truth starts to rot.
He said these were skills that took ANBU years to master. That mistakes weren't forgiven in the field. That failure wasn't punishment, it was execution.
But I didn't flinch.
Because this was me. This was where I thrived.
Gathering intelligence. Manipulating outcomes. Staying unseen.
They call it espionage. I call it instinct.
They teach it like it's an art.
But for me… it's survival.
And no one, not even Owl...will ever know how much I already know. Or how deep I've already gone.
He thinks I'm a rookie.
But I've been wearing masks longer than he's been watching behind one.