Every community has its villains. It would be strange if it didn't.
As a chunin of Konoha, Mizuki was, without question, one of them. He had graduated in the same class as Iruka—but unlike Iruka, the quiet performance evaluations his superiors kept on file, and the honest self-assessment Mizuki carried, both pointed to the same conclusion: he was a ruthless, unprincipled opportunist with eyes far bigger than his rank.
That ambition had cost him the Academy instructor position he'd coveted. It had cost him any chance of further promotion. And watching Iruka—same class, same starting line—settle comfortably into a teacher's post that carried exactly the kind of stable, respected footing Mizuki had always wanted for himself had curdled into the particular, persistent bitterness of a man who believes he deserves more than he has received.
Over time, that bitterness had found an outlet. He had crossed paths once with one of the legendary Sannin. And after years of quiet resentment, he had made his decision: he was leaving. Defecting. But defectors didn't arrive empty-handed—they brought gifts. And Mizuki had identified the perfect one.
The Scroll of Seals.
Passed down since the First Hokage, the scroll was said to contain generations of powerful jutsu too dangerous to be freely taught—forbidden techniques of extraordinary potency, a prize beyond measure for any shinobi who hungered for power. The difficulty, of course, was the theft itself. And since Mizuki was realistic enough about his own capabilities, he needed someone else to carry the risk.
Enter: the village pariah. Nine-Tails jinchūriki. Troublemaker. Despised by everyone. The ideal candidate for a scapegoat—the kind of person who could get caught holding something stolen and have everyone believe it entirely without question.
Uzumaki Naruto on paper. The village's best available patsy in practice.
Originally, Mizuki had planned to wait two months—timing the heist with the graduation exams would have made the blame stick more cleanly. But Naruto had gone quiet. The kid who used to deface the Hokage Rock on a weekly basis, whose reputation in Konoha was a reliable constant, had simply... settled down. And a Naruto who was keeping his head down was a less convincing guilty party. The window was closing.
So Mizuki had moved up the timetable. Best to act while the hatred was still fresh.
As for convincing Naruto—he wasn't worried. In his estimation, Naruto was basically a gullible fool. Tell him the Scroll of Seals would give him great power, and the Nine-Tails vessel would agree on the spot.
This was why Mizuki found himself standing outside the Uchiha compound gate, piecing together what he knew: Naruto had apparently been staying here. That was a complication, because the other resident was decidedly not the pushover Naruto was.
"Who are you? What are you doing lurking around here?!"
Sasuke's voice dropped from directly above him, cold and flat. Mizuki spun—and there Sasuke was, perched in the tree overhead, having materialized without a sound.
"Ah! You must be Sasuke Uchiha."
Mizuki composed himself and arranged his expression into the warm, genial mask he'd spent years perfecting. "You and Naruto have been missing quite a few classes lately. I came to check if something was wrong."
"Huh? Oh... you're one of Iruka-sensei's friends, I think."
Naruto's voice, from somewhere in the bushes to the right. He'd been boxed in from both sides and hadn't even noticed.
Startled again by Naruto's sudden voice, Mizuki steadied himself and ultimately held his ground. He must have been so focused on running through his scheme that he'd failed to notice these two not-yet-graduated students.
"That's right—we graduated together. I hear Naruto has been giving him quite a few headaches." A small, practiced laugh. "He worries about you, you know. He doesn't say it, but he does."
A warm feeling rose in Naruto's chest. Iruka.
"Tch—that guy Iruka~. So, Mizuki-sensei—what is it?"
Naruto scratched the back of his head with a mutter, though the corners of his mouth curled up with something a little too pleased.
"I heard you two even fainted from overly harsh training recently. Working this hard at your age is admirable—but you can't keep skipping class, either. Graduation is in two months. You're not worried about being held back, are you?"
Mizuki had found his opening, and his tone settled into something warm and casually concerned.
"Hmph—nothing but those elementary three-body techniques. I've long since mastered them," Sasuke said, dismissive.
That was Sasuke—no problem there. But Naruto's expression had shifted.
Clone Technique. The one jutsu that had always been a dead end for him. If Sasuke and Hinata graduated while he got held back alone...
That image was something he absolutely could not stomach.
"Ah... well, it's not necessarily certain... do they have to test clone technique?"
He hedged, unconvincing even to himself.
Beside him, Sasuke's eyes narrowed just a fraction. He stayed quiet and kept watching. There was something off about this man. The warmth was too even, the concern too precisely calibrated—a nudge in exactly the right place, at exactly the right moment. Whatever this person was holding in reserve, Sasuke wanted to see it.
"I'll say it plainly, since Iruka wouldn't." Mizuki crossed his arms, adopting the expression of a teacher delivering an unpleasant truth. "Your Clone Technique has never cleared the passing threshold. I think it may be a natural deficiency—a genuine limitation. I'm not saying this to be cruel. I think you need to be mentally prepared." He paused, then added: "The three-body techniques are the most basic and important jutsu for any ninja. Without mastering them, graduation is simply not possible."
"W-well... so what do I do? I've never once passed the clone test, Mizuki-sensei."
Cold sweat. Naruto was visibly rattled.
"It's the difference in training," Mizuki said, allowing a trace of resignation into his voice. "At this stage, catching up is difficult. But..." He paused, as if reluctant to offer something uncertain. "I might have a way that could help."
"Really? What is it?"
Mizuki smiled—patient, gentle, entirely practiced. "There is a scroll in this village, passed down since the First Hokage himself. The Scroll of Seals. It contains the accumulated jutsu insights of every Hokage who came after him."
"If you had the chance to study it—it might well benefit both of you considerably."
On the rooftop, Kakashi had heard every word.
When he had enough, he slipped away from the compound without a sound. This wasn't a decision he could make on his own.
The fire in the Third's office pipe burned low. Hiruzen Sarutobi regarded the crystal ball before him, and the warmth in his expression had been replaced by something older and sharper.
"Ibiki's team flagged Mizuki's conduct a long time ago," he said, without inflection. "I had not expected him to show his hand this clearly. A pity."
He raised one hand, voice perfectly ordinary: "Remove the guards from the Scroll of Seals' storage. Have Ibiki post people at the perimeter walls tonight."
Kakashi absorbed the order. He understood exactly what the Third was doing. Mizuki had shown his face—and in doing so had turned this moment into a test. A controlled one.
"Third Hokage." Kakashi chose his words carefully. "Sasuke and Naruto are still children. Failing to resist a temptation like this would be understandable at their age. Is it wise to—"
"Which is why I will personally go and unseal the Scroll of Seals tonight." Hiruzen exhaled a slow curl of smoke. "Whatever they manage to learn from it—consider it their reward for getting through this."
The scroll, ordinarily sealed against anyone without the Hokage's authority, would be left open. If the children were going to face this test, they would at least have something worth gaining if they passed.
But passing was only one branch. There was another.
"Also." The Third set down his pipe and met Kakashi's eyes directly. "Tonight—tell Hinata. She's currently leading those two—that makes her part of this as much as they are. The test applies to all three of them."
Kakashi straightened without a word.
"Yes, sir."