All the Bees 3

  Mitsu Akimitchi

  “Hello, Akimichi-san. Can you spare a moment of your time?” I heard behind me.

  Turning, I was faced with one Kurenai Yuhi, a newly minted jounin like myself. She was gorgeous, some said the most beautiful woman in the village, with long, lustrous black hair, pearlescent skin, and expressive, crimson eyes that saw right through a man.

  Unlike most in my position, I did not consider myself blessed to bask in her radiance. Even if I was interested in her, I happened to think she and Asuma made for a good match. More importantly, the look on her face was not that of someone approaching a friend, but the plastic smile people wore at business meetings.

  Which meant I knew what this was about.

  “Yes, Yuhi-san?” I replied, resigned to having yet more work dumped on me.

  “Would you care to join me for tea? I’d like to talk to you about my team.”

  “Of course, I know a good teahouse nearby.”

  I began to walk towards a teahouse one of my cousins ran. Compared to other clans like the Hyuga and Uchiha, the Akimichi clan had a relatively large number of civilians in its population. It wasn’t uncommon for our ninja to retire into the food industry, whether food service, logistics, or production, and for ninjas to be born into civilian families.

  I myself was something of a halfie, with my mother never having so much as held a kunai. Father though, was Uncle Choza’s younger brother, and I got my relatively large chakra pool from his side of the family.

  The bevy of restaurants and grocers owned by the clan served a double purpose. We didn’t all work in the food industry because we were fat; we worked in the food industry because it was an amazing way to grow a domestic intelligence network.

  Not only were bars and other watering holes great places to gather information, they also provided a measure of privacy when we knew they were owned by kin.

  Moreover, local grocers, bakers, and the like tended to be aware of all the neighborhood faces. This method of subtly monitoring the populace might be impractical abroad, but here in Konoha, the clan’s network allowed us to maintain a social awareness that wouldn’t fall behind even our Yamanaka friends.

  I walked inside the teahouse and made several subtle gestures. My cousin knew to give us some privacy, but that this meeting wasn’t truly urgent.

  Kurenai ordered a cup of green tea and sakura wagashi, a customary confectionary that often changed to reflect the season. This being shortly after the academy’s graduation, it was spring and sakura was a common ingredient.

  As for me, I preferred something more substantial so ordered an Akimichi-sized bowl of ochazuke, rice in green tea. My cousin knew me well and added a serving of roasted eel on top.

  “Well, Yuhi-san? How can I help you?” I asked, leaning forward a little so the fragrance of the ochazuke could waft into the steam and warm my face.

  “Ah, well, as you are aware, I was recently promoted to jounin, just like you,” she began.

  No, we were nothing alike. I served six years in ANBU; she was a regular chunin. My promotion was long overdue, delayed only because I was busy preemptively cleaning up A and S-class threats like the Land of Sky fiasco. We were not the same.

  That wasn’t what I said of course. Instead, I put on an earnest smile and said, “Yes, please allow me to express my congratulations.”

  “Thank you, Akimichi-san. Truthfully, I have some doubts about my ability to teach Team Eight. I’m so new to my role as jounin and I can’t help but wonder if someone else might do better to guide them in my place.”

  “These are genin, Yuhi-san. Even a rank and file chunin would be qualified to teach them the fundamentals. Why exactly do you feel unqualified? Is it because they are all clan heirs?”

  “That’s… a part of it. I’ve tried my hand at teaching in the past, and I cannot claim to have done well,” she admitted softly.

  I wondered which student she was talking about. She’d tried teaching Yakumo Kurama in the past, only to end up sealing her bloodline away. She also became something of a tutor and babysitter for Hinata, back before the shy girl joined the regular ninja forces.

  It wasn’t important. What mattered was that she had a track record of, what was in her eyes, failure. I doubted she’d ever show this kind of uncertainty in front of her students, but I was a fellow sensei, however reluctant, and a newly minted jounin. Our circumstances were similar enough that she might have felt I would be more sympathetic.

  “What is it you are asking, Yuhi-san?” I prodded.

  “Would you mind visiting Team Eight? I feel my genin would benefit from a second opinion. As a genjutsu specialist, I must admit my skills don’t overlap well with those of my students.”

  That was true as well. Though Kurenai undoubtedly had the fundamentals of the ninja arts down pat, she wasn’t anything special in taijutsu and ninjutsu. Her students were clan heirs, and each focused on taijutsu, their clan-specific hidenjutsu, or both.

  Nor was she an excellent tracker, which was the function Team Eight was being groomed for. She could provide valuable experience on how to combat genjutsu-based evasive maneuvers, but that was largely it.

  In that context, I wondered why she was ever given leadership over Team Eight. It couldn’t all be because of her connection with the Hyuga clan, surely.

  Still, whatever the reason, she was asking nicely and as a supplementary sensei, I was obligated to help.

  “I would be happy to make time for your team, Yuhi-san,” I replied. “Since we’ll be working together, please call me Mitsu.”

  “As you wish, Mitsu-san. Please call me Kurenai then.”

  “Can you tell me what they’ve been working on? I am taking part in a strict advisory role, after all.”

  “Yes, of course. Let me start with Hinata…”

  X

  Shino Aburame

  To be an Aburame was to oversee a delicate balance. Our hives formed a vast communication network throughout the village and the surrounding forest. Each hive was larger than it would be in the wild, swollen with drones and workers so that the network could be maintained and the village served.

  To this end, each Aburame waged a hidden war against the ecosystem, exploiting and manipulating it even as we sustained it for future generations. This delicate balancing act became markedly easier several years ago, when father contracted an outsider with a hive of his own.

  ANBU Badger arrived, and with him, the bee summons. They gathered and trained chakra bees so that their influence could be felt around the village, even when they were in their summon realm. Though I was unsure of the specifics, the summoned bees were able to impart generational knowledge and instructions through a combination of their honey, pheromones, and dances taught to their lesser cousins.

  We no longer had to spend quite so much time maintaining our delicate, artificial ecosystem, improving our productivity and increasing the number of our kin who could be deployed outside the village.

  And I was certain: Our new supplementary instructor was ANBU Badger. Even discounting his body shape, round, there were other tells. He had the same scent as his summoned bees, the same unique honey was used in the candies he gave out as well.

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  I kept silent, of course. Any who served in ANBU deserved our clan’s discretion and respect and Badger especially was a friend of the Aburame.

  “Eh? Kurenai-sensei? Are you serious?” Kiba said, brash and loud but otherwise well-meaning. “We don’t need another sensei; we’ve got you!”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Kiba,” our sensei reassured him. “Mitsu-san is a new jounin like me and was assigned as a supplementary instructor that we jounin-sensei can call on.”

  “But… Why? I mean, no offense, chubby, did you not cut it as a sensei or something?”

  “Kiba!”

  “It’s fine, Kurenai-san,” he said, waving her off. He was smiling. There was no killing intent. And yet, there was a palpable sense of dread that settled over us. “My name is Mitsu Akimichi. As for my team… I failed them all because I didn’t want to be a sensei. Then Hokage-sama dumped this job on me anyway so I’ll be taking my frustrations out on you.”

  Kiba realized he might have made a mistake. Let it not be said the Inuzuka were dumb, just too brash for their own good on occasion. “Ah… My bad?”

  “Now, I’m quite sure that as a genjutsu specialist, Kurenai-san can give you more insights into chakra control exercises than I can,” he said, ignoring Kiba’s apology. That did not bode well for us. “As you are now, your clan techniques are your primary focus, correct?”

  “Yes, Mitsu-sensei,” we replied.

  “Good. You’ll want to branch out eventually to shore up your weaknesses, but any jutsu I give you now will just become an unneeded distraction.”

  “We don’t need to branch out because we’re specialists,” Kiba said. “I mean, our clan knows how to use our gifts best, right? Why fix what isn’t broken?”

  “Hmm, that’s not wrong necessarily. Many of my own clan members think that way. Okay, you all know what the Akimichi hidenjutsu is, right?”

  “Yeah, you guys grow big.”

  “That’s part of it. At our core, we convert fat,” he tapped his stomach, “into energy and chakra into extra mass. Everyone knows we’re great at close combat and soaking up enemy jutsu like a sponge, but the obvious answers to beating an Akimichi is therefore a great ranged offensive, genjutsu, or a poison we can’t metabolize, right?”

  “I guess? So you mean if we’re great at one thing, everyone knows what we’re great at and will find ways to work around our clan specialties?”

  “Exactly. Now, assuming you want to be a jounin, you’ll want to pick up several other skills to round out your repertoire. Your clan techniques are a great foundation, but they won’t always be the right tool for the job.

  “For example, to list off the things I can do: I’ve mastered both water and earth elements and possess a summoning contract, animal partners like your Akamaru or Shino’s beetles. This contract gives me access to unique poisons and jutsu, as well as the ability to replenish my allies’ chakra in a pinch. All of this lets me operate as a typical Akimichi frontline tank, mid-range ninjutsu specialist, scout, or even a backline support.

  “I’m not bragging. Most jounin are about as versatile. There are very few jounin who are exclusively focused on just one thing. They tend to be absolute masters at that one thing, like Kurenai-san and genjutsu or Maito Gai and taijutsu, but for the most part, being more versatile will mean you can slot seamlessly into many different teams.”

  “Ah, umm, Mitsu-sensei,” Hinata said, almost too quiet to hear. “Y-You said our clan techniques should be our focus for now.”

  “I did, for now. I’m telling you this because I want you to keep this in mind going forward. When the time comes for you to branch out, I’d like you to look at other fields of the ninja arts with an open mind.”

  “Y-Yes, sensei.”

  “For today, and any time you’re with me, you’ll be working on small-group tactics, something I have extensive experience in, and general physical conditioning, something that won’t interfere with your clan or Kurenai-san’s training regimen. I will give you a mission objective. You will attempt to accomplish this objective. Simple, right?”

  “Alright, bring it on, sensei,” Kiba yelled.

  I suppressed a sigh. Goading ANBU Badger sounded like an awful idea. Despite my reservations, I stood with Kiba anyway. Hinata moved to his other side. We were a team, and like one hive, we would fly together, even if one member of our hive didn’t quite fly right.

  Mitsu-sensei looked at us carefully and nodded. “Good, your job is simple. Find me thirty bearded irises in full bloom. You have four hours.”

  “Yeah, we’ve got thi–Wait, what?” Kiba asked, exuberance turning into confusion. “Flowers? You’re seriously making us pick you flowers? That’s so lame, sensei.”

  “Is it? So you’re telling me that a team consisting of an Inuzuka, Hyuga, and Aburame can’t locate flowers for me?”

  “Well…”

  “L-Let’s go, Kiba-kun,” Hinata said, tugging him along by his sleeve.

  “This will be a fine test of our abilities,” I informed him. “Why? Because we are a team with a heavy focus on tracking.”

  “Yeah, alright, fine. Let’s get him his dumb flowers,” Kiba grumbled. “What do bearded irises look like, anyway?”

  “I do not know. Hinata?”

  “N-No, I’m sorry. I know what an iris looks like because we have some in our garden, but I don’t know if they’re ‘bearded,’ or what that means in the context of flowers.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault, Hinata. Guess we’re doing some intelligence gathering.”

  X

  Mitsu Akimichi

  I unsealed a picnic blanket and began laying out a spread of snacks. I had honeycakes, dango, mochi, and a spicy honey brew that my summons liked. Once I was ready, I bit my thumb and tapped the ground.

  “Kuchiyose no jutsu,” I muttered. I had no idea why everyone felt the need to shout. Words sometimes had mnemonic benefits, letting me skip the hand signs, but that was no reason to scream at the top of my lungs. In a puff of smoke, my two, oversized hornets appeared. “Kurobachi, Shirobachi, good afternoon.”

  “Mitsu!” they cheered. “And snacks!”

  “Yup, dig in, you two. Oh, and you as well, Kurenai-san. Feel free to join us.”

  She took a seat with me, barely flinching at the massive bees. “Will this really teach them small group tactics?”

  “You tell me. You’re a smart cookie. What do you think they might learn from this?”

  “Hmm, I suppose Hinata might ask a clan member who cares for her family garden. I’d expect Shino to know someone as well given his family.”

  “Right?”

  “Are you trying to teach them to rely on their seniors?”

  “Partially. Say, Shiro, Kuro, do you two still have a connection to the local hives?”

  Shiro scoffed. “Of course we do, chubs. You had us take them over years ago.”

  “Good. And you know where every bed of bearded iris is around the village, right?”

  “Well, duh. Kuro loves those things.”

  “So do you, Shiro,” Kuro said, fuzzy butt wiggling happily. “Back when we were larva, Seihachimori had a bit of a crisis. Not enough to go hungry, but we lost a bunch of flower beds and we happened to have bearded irises in spades. So Shiro and I grew up eating honey made from bearded iris. It doesn’t make for the most chakra-dense honey out there, but it’s very tasty and fragrant and always makes us nostalgic.”

  “He didn’t ask for our life story, dumbass. He already knows anyway. Who’re you even telling this to?”

  “Oh, hush, Shiro. I’m explaining to Kurenai-san. You don’t have to be so mean.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t be mean if you’d stop talking so much.”

  I reached out and grabbed them both by the antennas, tugging gently. “Stop bickering, you two. I ask because I want you to send your hives to guard every single one of those. If our three genin visit, sting them on the nose. Just the nose.”

  “Heh, alright, Mitsu. We can do that,” Shiro said, laughing evilly. She was a bit of a sadist, that one.

  The two bees rose into the air and began to twirl and spiral around each other. Each wingbeat was synchronized perfectly with each other, paced to a song only they could hear.

  As they landed, the forest became alive with the buzzing of much smaller wings as my summons’ minions relayed the order and readied themselves for battle.

  “Will they be alright?” Kurenai asked.

  “A few stings won’t kill them. Besides, those bees aren’t summons; they don’t have any of the truly dangerous venom.”

  “Stress testing a team of fresh genin with a swarm of bees seems cruel, Mitsu-san.”

  “Is it? And what’s keeping them from just buying the flowers from the local flower shops? I know for a fact that the Yamanaka shop has them in stock.”

  “That… You told them they were a team of trackers.”

  I gasped, pressing a hand daintily to my chest. “Me? I don’t recall saying that, Kurenai-san. I said a team comprised of an Inuzuka, Hyuga, and Aburame should be able to locate flowers for me.”

  “And… And Shino was the one who brought up the team’s primary function,” she muttered. “Well played, Mitsu-san. Well played.”

  “Well, we’ll see if they take the easy way out. Sometimes, the easy way is the right way. And if they don’t, I suppose they’ll learn a rather painful lesson.”

  Eventually, Kurenai pulled out a book to read while I meditated a little more. I was making progress, even if said progress was akin to an ant moving a mountain, one grain of gravel at a time.

  I’d failed my team by imposing a similar lesson. All those idiots needed to do was to hold the gourd of honey and let the bees feed, the simple way. Judging by the way their noses ballooned red like a baboon’s ass, I would have failed Team Eight as well.

  Author’s Note

  Ehh, nothing to say here. Mitsu continues to hate kids and will do anything to minimize the time he spends interacting with them.

  Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: .