Night in the Hidden Leaf was painted in silver.
The wind whispered through treetops above the Nara compound, brushing gently against paper windows and rustling bamboo chimes. Most of the village had long settled in for sleep, but one boy remained awake.
Ayanokoji Nara moved like a shadow beneath the trees.
His fingers traced hand seals with practiced grace—fast, efficient, silent. He wasn't training to impress anyone. He didn't need approval. This was just maintenance. Precision. Routine.
The tip of a branch snapped silently above him.
Ayanokoji paused, his grey eyes glancing at the tree canopy—but he made no move to acknowledge what he'd already sensed.
Someone was watching him.
---
High above, half-shrouded by leaves, stood a figure clad in black and grey. His headband sat angled over one eye. The other gleamed lazily in the moonlight, a single copy-nin eye that had seen too many wars.
Hatake Kakashi was impressed—and concerned.
"Kid moves like he was trained by ghosts," Kakashi muttered under his breath. "Even his chakra signature is faint. Most Chūnin wouldn't notice him until he was already behind them."
He jotted something down in a pocket notebook.
"Shikaku wasn't exaggerating."
Then he flicked his wrist, vanishing from the tree as Ayanokoji finished his silent drills and retreated inside. Neither spoke, but both knew the other was aware.
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### The Next Day — Konoha Academy Grounds
Ayanokoji arrived early.
The classroom was empty except for Iruka, who glanced up from his paperwork. "Ayanokoji. Good. You'll be meeting a new instructor today for some... advanced supervision."
Ayanokoji raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was already under supervision."
Iruka chuckled awkwardly. "This is more... observational. For students who stand out."
Ayanokoji sat down quietly, folding his arms.
Exactly twelve minutes later, the classroom door slid open with a faint *click*.
In stepped a tall man with a mask over his face and a familiar, bored look in his one visible eye. He held a small orange book in his hand, barely glancing up.
"Yo."
Iruka straightened up. "This is Hatake Kakashi. Jonin. He's volunteered to evaluate a few of our more... promising students."
Kakashi gave a lazy wave. "Call me Kakashi-sensei. Or just Kakashi. Up to you."
Ayanokoji studied him. There was something disarming about Kakashi—something that said *I'm not serious* while his body language said *I already know your next move*.
"I remember you," Ayanokoji said.
Kakashi smiled under the mask. "Most people do. I have that effect."
---
### Training Grounds 9 – Later That Afternoon
Kakashi sat on a bench under a tree while Ayanokoji practiced chakra control exercises on a vertical surface. He'd already managed to stand upside-down on the trunk using a single foot.
"You don't waste time pretending to struggle," Kakashi noted.
"I don't see the point in sandbagging unless it's necessary."
Kakashi nodded, flipping a page of his book. "That's a dangerous mindset for a kid."
"I'm not like most kids."
Kakashi closed the book and tossed it to Ayanokoji, who caught it mid-air.
"What's this?"
"Icha Icha Paradise," Kakashi said with pride. "A modern classic. Romantic genius. Flawless comedic timing. Taught me more about the human psyche than most ninja manuals ever did."
Ayanokoji flipped a few pages, expecting trash. But instead, he saw patterns. Rhythm. Tension. Psychological manipulation through dialogue and timing. Subtext masked as comedy.
He looked up, expression unreadable. "Who wrote this?"
"Jiraiya the Gallant."
"I've heard of him. Legendary Sannin."
"And legendary pervert," Kakashi added with admiration.
Ayanokoji smirked slightly. "He understands people. How they think. How to push them."
Kakashi tilted his head. "You like it?"
"I think I admire him."
Kakashi leaned back. "You might be the first person I've met who calls Jiraiya a 'god' for something other than his jutsu."
---
### That Night
Ayanokoji sat by the window in his room, reading *Icha Icha Paradise* under candlelight. The wind was cold, but he didn't notice. Each word, each clever scene—there was genius behind the madness. It was subversive. It taught emotional leverage better than any textbook.
Shikaku passed by in the hallway and paused.
"…Kakashi gave you *that*, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Great. Another one converted."
He walked off muttering about "terrible role models."
Ayanokoji smiled slightly to himself.
The book was filth—but it was *brilliant* filth.
He looked up at the full moon outside and whispered, "Jiraiya… you might really be a god."
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