The Uzumaki Legacy

More D-rank missions?

The summer heat bore down mercilessly on Team 8 as they crouched in the undergrowth behind the Konoha marketplace, pursuing their third escaped cat of the week. Sweat trickled down Shisui's neck as he maintained his position, his Sharingan activated more out of frustration than necessity. Ahead of them, Mrs. Shimura's prized Persian cat – their current target – lazily groomed itself, seemingly aware of and entirely unconcerned by their presence.

"This is ridiculous," Shima whispered, her medical-nin training utterly wasted on yet another feline retrieval mission. "Two months of this... I could be at the hospital learning advanced healing techniques with Mother, but instead, I'm chasing cats."

Hana, whose Uzumaki energy typically knew no bounds, lay sprawled in the dirt with an unprecedented lack of enthusiasm. "If I have to pick one more batch of medicinal herbs from the eastern fields, I might actually lose my mind. I thought being a ninja would be more... you know, ninja-like."

From his position in the branches above them, Orochimaru observed his team with a mixture of amusement and calculated interest. The past two months had been an exercise in patience – not just for the genin, but for him as well. The village's insistence on assigning D-rank missions to new teams was a tradition he found tediously unnecessary, particularly for a team of their breeding and potential.

"Position confirmed," Shisui muttered into his wireless communicator, though the usual sharp focus in his voice had been replaced by mechanical boredom. "Target is approximately three meters ahead, engaging in... grooming activities." The last words came out with barely disguised disdain.

Their formation was perfect – they had, after all, performed this exact mission type dozens of times now. Shima to the left, ready with a gentle paralysis technique (finally mastered, though hardly challenged by their current mission parameters). Hana on the right, her wind chakra control now refined enough that she could create the smallest of breezes to herd their targets. Shisui in the center, his speed and Sharingan making him the ideal catcher.

"Remember," Orochimaru's voice came smoothly through their communicators, carrying that ever-present hint of something darker beneath the surface, "even the most mundane missions serve a purpose. Though perhaps..." he paused, and they could almost hear the smile in his voice, "you've served your time with sufficient dedication."

The cat chose that moment to stretch languidly and begin sauntering away, prompting the team into action with well-practiced coordination. Within seconds, the mission was complete, with the target secured in Shisui's arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the whole affair.

Later that afternoon, after delivering their quarry to its owner, Team 8 stood before the mission assignment desk in the Hokage Tower. The chunin on duty was already reaching for another D-rank scroll when Orochimaru stepped forward, his presence immediately commanding attention.

"I believe," he said, his voice carrying that subtle blend of authority and threat that was uniquely his, "my team has demonstrated more than adequate proficiency in D-rank missions. Their skills are being... wasted."

The chunin hesitated, glancing nervously between Orochimaru and the stack of D-rank scrolls. "But the standard progression-"

"Is a guideline," Orochimaru interrupted smoothly, "not an absolute law. Unless you wish to explain to the Uchiha clan why their prodigy is being used as a gardener, or to Tsunade-hime why her daughter's medical training is being interrupted for pest control?"

The mention of the powerful clan names had its intended effect. The chunin swallowed hard and reached for a different stack of scrolls – the C-ranks.

Standing behind their sensei, Team 8 exchanged glances of barely contained excitement. Hana was practically vibrating with anticipation, while Shisui allowed himself a small smile. Even Shima's usual composed expression cracked into a grin.

"Besides," Orochimaru continued, selecting a scroll from the newly offered options, "these past two months haven't been entirely about catching cats and pulling weeds, have they, my students?"

The team sobered slightly at his words, understanding his meaning. Between missions, their training had been relentless. Shisui's Fire Phoenix Jutsu now produced a magnificent flaming bird that could actually maintain flight. Shima's Paralysis Jutsu had evolved to the point where she could target specific muscle groups with precision. Hana's Wind Bullets had finally found the balance between power and control, though she still occasionally overdid it when excited.

"The mundane missions served their purpose," Orochimaru explained as they left the tower, the C-rank scroll secured in his vest. "They taught you patience, teamwork, and most importantly, gave you time to perfect the techniques I assigned without the pressure of combat. But now..." his eyes gleamed with something that might have been pride, or perhaps anticipation, "now it's time to put those skills to real use."

As they walked through the village streets, their steps lighter than they had been in weeks, Hana couldn't contain herself any longer. "So what's our first C-rank mission, Orochimaru-sensei? Are we protecting a merchant? Hunting down bandits? Oh! Are we going to-"

"Tomorrow," Orochimaru cut her off, though his tone carried an unusual warmth. "For now, go home and prepare. Pack for a week-long mission. And remember everything you've learned – not just the jutsu, but the patience, the coordination, the attention to detail. You'll need it all where we're going."

As the team dispersed, heading to their respective homes to prepare, there was a new energy in their steps. The past two months of seemingly pointless D-rank missions had secretly laid the groundwork for something bigger. Their real journey as ninja was finally about to begin, and under Orochimaru's guidance, they were more than ready for the challenge.

The Sannin watched his students disappear into the evening crowds, his expression unreadable. Yes, they had learned well during these monotonous months. Now it was time to see how they would perform when the stakes were real and the consequences of failure more severe than a scratched hand from an angry cat.