Chapter 29: Chapter 29: The Unlucky Duo
Chapter 29: The Unlucky Duo
The two of them looked uneasy.
Kazama's complete ignorance of their situation made things even more difficult for them.
They had assumed that since Kazama was brought here by a Jōnin instructor, he was already mentally prepared and that convincing him would be easy.
But instead, they were met with someone who didn't play by the rules at all.
"There's nothing that can't be said aloud," Kazama said casually. "If you two have nothing to hide, then why not just tell me? This is my first time meeting you, but if we're going to be teammates, we might as well get to know each other."
With that, he sat down, pulled out some tea and snacks from his pack, and settled in like they were about to have a long conversation.
Silence lingered.
Finally, after what seemed like an internal struggle, Mizutani Nobuko took a deep breath and spoke up.
"For the past year… we've been known as the Unlucky Duo."
Kazama raised an eyebrow. Unlucky Duo?
Nobuko continued.
"We actually graduated a year ago. Back then, it was me, Ryuuzawa Ichiro, and another teammate in our squad. Our Jōnin instructor was a Chūnin-level ninja named Yamaguchi-sensei. Everything was supposed to be normal, just the beginning of our ninja careers."
"But then, on our very first mission, we ran into a missing-nin."
Kazama's eyes sharpened slightly.
A missing-nin?
Nobuko clenched her fists.
"Yamaguchi-sensei fought to buy us time to escape. He told us to run separately so the enemy couldn't track all of us. In the end, only we made it back. When we finally found Yamaguchi-sensei and our teammate…"
Her voice choked up, and she couldn't continue.
Ichiro looked equally grief-stricken, unable to find the right words to comfort her.
After a moment, Nobuko wiped her tears, took another deep breath, and forced herself to finish.
"Because of their deaths, our team was disbanded. And since Konoha never reassigned us a new instructor, we couldn't even take missions. We were left in limbo for an entire year."
"Then, just a few days ago, we received a sudden notice—we were getting a new teammate and a new instructor."
"We were hopeful… but also afraid. What if our new teammates and teacher hated us?"
"For the past year, everyone's been talking behind our backs. They say that because of us, our first mission ended in failure, that our team lost a member and an instructor, and that whoever teams up with us is doomed to fail."
"That's how we got the name Unlucky Duo."
Kazama listened quietly.
The story wasn't particularly unique.
In the Naruto world, things like this happened all the time.
The only difference was whether you were the victim or the bystander.
Nobuko and Ichiro lowered their heads, expecting some form of rejection or judgment.
Kazama finally spoke.
"That's it?"
They looked up, startled.
"You guys don't need to worry. Once you become a ninja, you should already be prepared for death. I don't think your old teammates would have blamed you for surviving."
Taking a slow sip of tea, Kazama then added:
"What I'm actually concerned about… is this one-year gap. Have you two been slacking off?"
His tone was suddenly serious.
Nobuko and Ichiro stiffened.
"Of course not!" Nobuko said quickly. "We've been training every day, but without an instructor, we could only practice what we learned in the Academy."
"As a result… our progress has been limited."
She lowered her voice near the end.
Kazama didn't say anything for a moment.
Then he smirked.
"Alright. Let's test your abilities."
Nobuko and Ichiro blinked.
"Show me what you've got. Since we're all Academy graduates, I think I can at least gauge your level."
Kazama sounded exactly like a proctor at an exam.
Nobuko hesitated but nodded.
"Alright. I'll go first."
She walked over to a nearby tree and quickly marked a few target spots on the bark.
Then, she took out a kunai in her left hand and a shuriken in her right.
Crossing her arms, she threw them in a swift, practiced motion.
Shing! Shing! Shing!
The kunai and shuriken hit their marks, embedding into the targets with precision.
Nobuko let out a small breath of relief.
Kazama's assessment?
Textbook form. Almost too perfect.
It was clear she had practiced this exact technique thousands of times—probably straight from Academy drills.
But that was also the problem.
Her form was too predictable.
Shinobi didn't fight in classroom demonstrations. Real battle required unpredictability, stealth, and adaptation. The moment she assumed a set stance, an experienced opponent could read her intentions immediately.
Kazama kept his thoughts to himself and nodded toward Ichiro.
"Your turn."
Ichiro's approach was completely different.
Unlike Nobuko's precise, calculated throws, he swung his arm with raw force, launching his kunai and shuriken like they were miniature spears.
Whoosh!
The sound of his throws was more of a sharp whistle—a clear indicator of speed and power.
When his weapons hit the target, they struck with such force that some of Nobuko's kunai were knocked loose and fell to the ground.
Kazama raised an eyebrow.
Not bad.
Ichiro's technique was rough, but his strength was undeniable.
If an enemy tried to catch or block one of his throws, they'd probably end up with a broken hand.
"Not bad, Ichiro," Kazama praised. "But try to shorten your wind-up. The faster you can throw, the harder it'll be for enemies to dodge."
Ichiro grinned and scratched the back of his head.
"Next up—Taijutsu," Kazama said, stepping forward. "I'll be your opponent. Who's first?"
"I'll go," Nobuko immediately volunteered.
Kazama nodded.
The two assumed combat stances.
"Whenever you're ready," Kazama prompted.
Nobuko didn't hesitate—she rushed in immediately, throwing a series of punches and kicks.
Kazama quickly realized—her Taijutsu was just like her weapon throwing.
Too perfect. Too predictable.
She executed each attack with proper Academy form, but there was no adaptability—no personal style.
Kazama blocked, dodged, and countered effortlessly.
After about ten exchanges, Nobuko was visibly tired, her movements slowing down.
Kazama stopped the fight.
"You're fast, but you need to loosen up. You fight like you're in a textbook demonstration."
Nobuko frowned but nodded.
Then it was Ichiro's turn.
Unlike Nobuko, Ichiro didn't attack immediately.
Instead, he stood still, watching Kazama.
Kazama tensed slightly.
Despite being only a year older, Ichiro was a head taller and packed with muscle—clearly built for raw power.
Kazama had a feeling—this fight was going to be different.
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