Find a good book to survive
Sukea ambled toward the Hokage Tower, his pace unhurried as he took in the village around him. The once-familiar streets felt so different with the reversal of time. Everywhere he looked, the sights and sounds of the village dredged up long-buried memories. He’d forgotten how much Konoha had to change due to all the destruction during the wars, and yet now all that change was undone.
He ducked into a small bookstore on impulse to find something to distract himself with. Browsing aimlessly, he scanned for a particular title and frowned when it was nowhere to be found. Of course, Icha Icha wouldn’t exist yet—it was barely a glimmer in its author’s imagination. Sukea’s dog-eared copy of the first book sat snug in his camera bag, but it if it didn’t exist yet, it would be unwise to enjoy it outside of the privacy of his own home.
His fingers trailed along the spines of other novels. Despite his best efforts, no other series ever hit the same combination of wit, thrill, and complexity in his nearly 40 years of life but he grabbed a few titles that had potential anyway, only having to henge 2 of them into similarly priced books to get them past the civilian shopkeeper.
As he stepped out of the shop and paused to get his bearings to properly pack his books away on his person, a scene caught his eye. A boy was helping an elderly woman cross the street, his wide grin and boundless energy reminding him of Obito. He looked so young and carefree…Geez he really was an old man despite how he looked.
But then, on a second glance, the realization hit him.
Wait. That really was Obito.
He watched, almost disbelieving, as Obito darted off, shouting something about being late.
Wait, late?
Reality snapped back into focus, and with it, the sinking realization that he was late too.
“Ah, crap,” Sukea muttered, breaking into a brisk jog toward the Hokage Tower.
When he finally reached the Hokage’s office—only ten minutes behind schedule—the Third Hokage took a few moments to recognize him before greeting him with a pointed glance.
“You’re late,” the Hokage said, his tone clipped but not unkind.
Sukea rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish grin. “Apologies, Lord Hokage. They told Kakashi instead of me, and, well... I’m here now.”
The Hokage raised a skeptical eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the excuse. “I understand my messenger had some difficulty locating you.” His gaze swept over Sukea’s attire.
“Well,” Sukea began, adopting a casual air, “it’s suspicious to have two of the same ninja running around. I figured I’d change things up. You know, for everyone else’s sake.”
His current appearance was a rehash of his Sukea disguise as he had put a lot of effort into crafting it and it did a good job of leaving little to suggest the infamous Hatake bloodline. The brown shaggy wig obscured his silver hair, clan paint around his eyes and cheeks softened his sharp features and drew attention away from the rest of his face, his secondhand shinobi gear, coupled with the practised suppression of his chakra, completed the transformation. From even the most trained eye, he was just another dime-a-dozen genin.
The Hokage sighed, a touch of exasperation creeping into his voice. “I see. Well, no matter. You’re here now as you said.”
He gestured for Sukea to sit. “Given your... sudden appearance, I’ve decided the best course of action is to enrol you with the graduating class at the Academy. This will allow us to evaluate your abilities alongside your peers without the complications of finding you an apprenticeship on such short notice.”
“The Academy?” Sukea blurted, barely suppressing a wince. “Really?”
“Yes,” Lord Third said firmly. “I have made the arrangements for you to join the class today.” gesturing for a chuunin to escort him the short walk to the lower level where the Academy classes were held.
As he stepped into the classroom, dozens of curious eyes turned to him. But some familiar faces stood out among the crowd—Rin, Guy, Genma, Kurenai, and Asuma—each looking far younger than he remembered. He was scanning for an empty seat when the door slammed open behind him.
“Sorry I’m late!” Obito’s voice rang out as he barged in, already rattling off excuses. His tirade came to an abrupt halt when his eyes landed on Sukea.
“Who are you?” Obito demanded, marching up to him.
The challenge in Obito’s tone made Sukea’s instincts flare. Every Hatake part of his brain screamed to respond in kind, to assert dominance. But logic—and hard-won wisdom—reminded him that this was Obito: a child, with a heavy lack of personal space. Not an opponent.
He tamps down on ingrained responses to bite back, the exact same responses that caused him and Obito’s relationship to be so sour when he was Kakashi and puts on his most serene and Rin-like false grin, “I’m Sukea,” he said evenly. “Your new classmate.”
Obito squinted, placing a hand on top of Sukea’s head as if measuring him. “Aren’t you too small to be in this class?”
Before Sukea could really bite him for that, Rin intervened. “Obito! Don’t be rude!”
The teacher followed suit, sternly instructing both boys to take their seats. As Sukea made his way to an empty desk, Rin flashed him an apologetic smile. The sight of it twisted something in his chest, bringing back memories he had tried so hard to bury.
Sukea exhaled slowly as he sat down. The day had barely begun, and already, he felt the weight of the past pressing down on him. He glanced around at the young faces surrounding him, wondering how he would survive.
—
Sukea fought hard against the pull of sleep as the morning dragged on. The material being taught wasn’t just unchallenging—it was mind-numbing. He already knew more about these topics than the teacher presenting them, and none of the books he’d grabbed earlier were the right size to discreetly pass off as textbooks. Still, he resisted zoning out completely; he’d learned from the Nara clan’s reputation that appearing too disinterested was an invitation for a teacher’s attention.
His plan for surviving the Academy was simple: be competent but unremarkable. Perform just well enough to avoid reprimand, but never excel to the point of being noticed. He wasn’t here to relieve the burden of a “prodigy” title; he’d already carried that weight, and he knew better now that it drew the wrong types of attention.
Occasionally, his age drew a few raised eyebrows. He was younger than most of his classmates, though not so young as to be a glaring anomaly—He didn’t think 8 was all that much younger than the 12-13 years old most of his classmates were, besides Guy was also only a year or two older, after all.
When the class split into the boy's Shinobi Battle Exercises and girl's Kunoichi Studies, Sukea saw his opportunity to shake off the monotony.
Sukea approached the teacher, letting his shoulders hunch just slightly and his voice soften. “Excuse me, sensei,” he began, tilting his head like he was nervous. “Can I sit in on the Kunoichi studies today? I’m worried I’m too small to spar fairly with the boys, and I’m still behind on some things because of my transfer.”
It was a calculated lie, delivered with just enough humility to seem genuine, though the truth was that he’d probably struggle more with holding back than with keeping up.
The teacher barely spared him a glance, and clearly not putting much stock in the skill required of Kunoichi techniques, waved him off with a muttered, “Just don’t disrupt their lesson.”
Suppressing a grin, Sukea trailed after the girls to their outdoor training area. The shift in scenery and subject matter was a welcome relief. Today’s lesson focused on ikebana and hanakotoba—flower arrangement and the meanings behind different blooms. It wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was new to him. His experience with kunoichi techniques had been limited to independent study, and this was an opportunity to expand his repertoire.
After the brief lecture, they were scattered to attempt the practical application of the skill. Sukea buried himself in the textbook, selecting wildflowers from the nearby field and carefully arranging them to match the examples. His focus on the task was so complete that he didn’t notice someone sitting beside him until a soft voice interrupted.
“I’m sorry about Obito earlier. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he means well.”
Sukea glanced up to see Rin, her expression gentle and apologetic. The sight of her alive, smiling, stirred something deep in his chest—a mix of longing, regret, and guilt that he wasn’t prepared for. He had built his Sukea persona around her memory, her warmth and kindness. Seeing her again made his hands feel unclean, as though he didn’t deserve to be here in her presence.
He forced himself to smile, matching her warmth. “It’s fine. He just startled me, that’s all.”
Rin’s face lit up with relief, her smile growing brighter. Sukea found himself mirroring her expression almost unconsciously, focusing on perfecting his imitation of her instead of the ache in his chest.
“Why are you in the Kunoichi class?” she asked, tilting her head with curiosity.
Sukea repeated the excuse he’d given the teacher, adding a touch of self-deprecation to make it more convincing. “I’m too small to spar fairly with the boys, and I’ve got a lot of catching up to do after transferring.”
Rin nodded in understanding, her gaze drifting to his work. She noticed the way he studied the textbook intently, and her eyes softened. “Some of this can be tricky, especially for someone who’s just starting out. If you want, I can show you some tips I learned from the Yamanaka girls—they have clever tricks that aren’t even in the textbook.”
Her kindness caught him off guard, and for a moment, he hesitated. But her enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself nodding.
Rin leaned closer, demonstrating techniques with a precision that spoke to her natural skill. She explained how flower meanings could shift depending on arrangement and context, and that a few of them had secondary medicinal purposes. Sukea listened more intently than he intended, caught up in her quiet passion.
The lesson ended all too quickly, with students gathering their materials to leave. Just as Sukea was about to go, the kunoichi instructor approached him.
“Sukea, stay behind for a moment,” she said, her tone calm but firm.
Sukea froze but kept his expression neutral, following her to the front of the group.
“I wanted to commend you on your budding infiltration techniques,” she said, a note of approval in her voice. “You have a natural aptitude for blending into unfamiliar environments. It’s a shame…” Her sharp eyes swept over him thoughtfully. “…that you’re a boy. It limits certain avenues of application, but I’ll allow you to continue taking my class since you seem to have talent and are interested in learning.”
Sukea suppressed the urge to scoff. From his future perspective, gender wasn’t much of a barrier in infiltration—it all depended on the target and the approach. But he nodded politely, murmuring a quiet “thank you” before she dismissed him.
—
The bell’s chime had barely faded before Sukea darted from the Academy, eager to shake off the lingering monotony of the day. He darted through Konoha’s winding streets with a sense of purpose, dodging pedestrians and leaping over obstacles without breaking stride. His destination was clear—he knew exactly where his younger self would be at this time of day.
Sure enough, he found Kakashi in a quiet clearing, his lithe form bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun as he worked through a set of drills. Minato had likely dismissed him for the day, but Kakashi’s work ethic rarely allowed for rest.
Sukea strolled into the clearing, a mischievous grin on his face and a flower crown in his hands. The crown, hastily crafted from the remnants of his Kunoichi lesson, was far from perfect. It likely conveyed an odd mix of meanings—something like “survival, longevity, familial love and protection” or could just make a diuretic snack—but the meaning wasn’t the point. He plopped it unceremoniously onto Kakashi’s head before the boy could react and the absurdity of the gesture earning a rare flicker of surprise on the boy’s usually stoic face.
“You won’t believe what happened today!” Sukea exclaimed with exaggerated drama. “The Hokage enrolled me in the Academy. I have to graduate to become a genin again. Can you imagine?” He flopped dramatically onto a patch of grass, groaning for effect. “You’ve got it easy, Kakashi! All you have to do is get along with your team when they graduate. Meanwhile, I’m stuck taking classes with them. It’s like actually living Minato-sensei’s worst-case scenario threat!”
Kakashi froze mid-strike, one hand reaching up to gingerly remove the flower crown. His face twisted into a grimace as he processed the news. “That’s... unfortunate,” he said at last, his tone dry.
“Unfortunate?” Sukea repeated, throwing an arm over his eyes as if the indignity were too much to bear. “I need comfort. At least pat my head and say, ‘there, there.’”
Kakashi shot him a flat look, clearly unimpressed with the dramatics, but after a moment’s hesitation, he relented. He stepped closer, reaching out with all the enthusiasm of someone forced to humour a ridiculous request. His hand landed on Sukea’s head in a stiff, mechanical pat. “...There, there,” he muttered, his voice devoid of emotion.
Sukea peeked out from under his arm, shocked that the boy even tried. Sure it was the same way he would often humour non-mission related requests given by Minato Sensei but he felt a swell of affection with how cute his younger self was, so overwhelming that he reached out to pull him into a hug.
Kakashi dodged with lightning-fast reflexes. “What are you—stop that!”
Sukea laughed, lunging forward for a second attempt. Kakashi ducked and retaliated with a light shove that turned into puppy fighting. The clearing echoed with the soft thuds of their mock fight, both of them grinning despite themselves.
It wasn’t long before Kakashi’s competitive streak took over, and the playful scuffle shifted into earnest training. Sukea matched him strike for strike, offering subtle corrections under the guise of banter.
—
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat at his desk, the faint glow of the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. In front of him lay a stack of files, each bearing the name of a hopeful young shinobi.
He’d just gotten to Hatake Sukea’s file, although it appears he’s just been going by Sukea. He understood the shadow cast by a name like Hatake, especially after the tragedy of Sakumo.
Hiruzen flipped through the modest file, his flicking over the sparse details. Sukea’s academic performance was solid—commendable, even—but nowhere near the brilliance that had defined Kakashi. Not that they would have expedited his graduation anyway as they were still updating the records to account for an unexpected ninja in their ranks.
The Hokage leaned back in his chair, his pipe balanced delicately between his fingers. He knew Kakashi hadn’t taken the passing of his father well, as he had turned to the ninja code as his compass. This was likely the only reason he came clean about his clan's deception, likely the secret itself becoming too large to hide, even if it did take time for him to do so.
Hiruzen turned to the Chūnin instructors gathered before him. "What are your impressions of the boy?" he asked, his tone measured.
The head teacher, a bespectacled, middle-aged man with a perpetually tired expression, spoke first. "Sukea is... subtle. It’s easy to forget he’s even in the room sometimes, but that’s not to say he’s lazy. He does his work, never asks for help, and never causes trouble. He’s... efficient, I’d say. Adaptable."
The Kunoichi instructor, a sharp-eyed woman with a reputation for demanding excellence, chimed in next. "I’ll admit, Hokage-sama, I was sceptical at first when he joined my class. But the boy has a natural talent for observation and imitation. He’s been studying the top Kunoichi Nohara Rin—mirroring her mannerisms, even adopting her approach to maintaining peace in the group. He’s turned it into a form of infiltration training, whether he realizes it or not. It’s clever, though perhaps unconventional and I think he’s a bit smarter than he’s letting on.”
Hiruzen raised an eyebrow. “He was in your classes? Why is he in the Kunoichi classes?”
The head teacher scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to phrase it. “He claimed his size put him at a disadvantage during sparring with the boys. Said he’d learn more in the Kunoichi classes. We allowed it—it seemed reasonable enough. He’s certainly made use of the opportunity.”
Hiruzen hummed thoughtfully, turning the information over in his mind. The boy’s actions painted a picture of someone deliberately crafting a skillset that complemented his brother’s. Where Kakashi was a sharp and unyielding blade, Sukea a was fluid and unassuming peacekeeper. Together, they might have been unstoppable.
Yet, the Hokage’s gaze darkened as he considered the looming war. The village didn’t have much need for diplomats or peacekeepers in the immediate future; it needed warriors, strategists, and protectors. Sukea’s talents were remarkable, but Hiruzen knew the boy would need more than cleverness to survive the coming trials.
He turned back to the files spread before him, his eyes scanning the team rosters. He had initially been considering Ebisu for a position on Team Chōza—someone with a bright mind to balance Guy’s relentless energy. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised Sukea might be a better fit.
The Hokage placed the boy’s file atop the growing pile of finalized placements.
“Assign him to Team Chōza,” he said, at last, his tone decisive. “He’ll have to learn to fight regardless of his size.”
—
The Academy classroom emptied further with every announcement, save for the handful of students still waiting to hear their team assignments. He got a brief glance at Kakashi when Minato came to pick up the new Team 7. The classroom had grown quieter since then though, with most people's friends having already left and them all just zoning out listening out for their own names.
“Next, we have Team 23!”
Sukea cringed as he realized how many of the students he had watched walk out of the room, who barely seemed ready to hold a kunai properly but had passed because of the looming war outside these walls. They weren’t just going to be tested in battle simulations or training exercises anymore.
“Might Guy, Shiranui Genma, and Sukea! Your new sensei is Chōza Akimichi! Please exit the room with your sensei!”
The instructor’s voice snapped him from his thoughts.
Sukea rose slowly, he wasn’t sure how to feel about his assignment. On one hand, Guy was his eternal rival—or had been, in his prior life. He’d gone out of his way to avoid Guy unwilling to risk drawing attention by engaging in any challenges. Not that the boy would likely issue them anyway, as the relationship would never be the same.
Chōza Akimichi stood at the classroom door, his broad frame and booming laugh immediately commanding attention. “Alright, Team 23! First things first: we’re going to Yakiniku! To work well, you have to eat well!”
Yakiniku? Sukea blinked, caught off guard by the unorthodox introduction. But there was no room to protest as Chōza ushered them toward the restaurant with a grin that could have disarmed even the most stoic shinobi.
Sukea supposed that is one way to get to know your students…
—
The restaurant’s warm, smoky atmosphere set the stage for their impromptu feast. Plates of marinated meats and sides piled high in front of them, and Chōza wasted no time encouraging his team to dig in. Sukea hesitated, feeling the familiar tension of dining in public, but the allure of good food—and his sensei’s insistence—was hard to resist.
It didn’t take long for Genma to stir the pot. “This table’s as much of a sausage-fest as our team is,” he remarked, his tone dripping with teenage bravado. His grin turned sharp as his gaze zeroed in on Sukea. “Unless I’m wrong about your size being the only reason you were in the Kunoichi classes?”
Sukea’s carefully constructed persona cracked for just a moment, his dry wit slipping through. “Some of the kunoichi classes do cover remedies for that particular problem.” He said it evenly, though the glint in his eyes gave him away. Without missing a beat, he picked up some meat, slicing it with precision before placing it on the grill.
Genma crossed his legs at the subtle threat before his face settled into a nervous grin, “Good to know you won’t be completely useless then!” Genma appraised him, Sukea having passed whatever test the boy had just thrown at him.
Guy, oblivious to the undertones, clapped a hand on Sukea’s shoulder, nearly making him drop his chopsticks. “Do not worry, Sukea! Since you were in the Kunoichi classes, I will personally help you build your stamina so you can fight alongside us!”
Sukea forced a grin, already knowing what “help” from Guy would entail. “I’ll look forward to it,” he lied smoothly, internally making plans to redirect Guy’s enthusiasm toward Genma. The boy did survive being Guy’s teammate the first time around so he should be able to handle it.
Chōza quickly chimed in, piling more food onto Sukea’s plate. “That’s a great idea, Guy! But before we worry about stamina, we’ve got to make sure you’re eating enough. Growing boys need plenty of energy!”
Sukea, used to wolfing down his meals quickly to avoid being seen unmasked, ate at his usual pace. He didn’t even notice the way Chōza’s brows furrowed until his sensei gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, hey, kid. The food’s not going anywhere. Take your time. Savour it.”
It was said with such genuine concern that Sukea found himself slowing down, if only slightly.
—
Team 23 had, somehow, managed to polish off the entire spread during the time their sensei was getting to know them. Their new sensei, Chōza Akimichi, leaned back with a satisfied sigh, patting his stomach and grinning at the trio.
“Well, that was a feast,” he said, with a tone of finality, “But now, the real test begins.”
Sukea’s chopsticks froze mid-air and he was placing them down. He glanced at Genma and Guy, who both wore matching expressions of mild confusion. Before anyone could ask what he meant, Chōza dusted off his hands and stood.
“You see,” he continued, with an apologetic grin, “I didn’t bring my wallet.”
The statement hung in the air for a beat before Genma broke the silence with an incredulous laugh. “You’re joking.”
Chōza’s grin didn’t waver.
“You’re not joking,” Genma realized, his face falling. “What kind of sensei doesn’t bring his wallet?”
“Well there’s nothing to be done about it now, so I want to see how my new team will solve this problem. You’ve got until the manager comes to collect the bill.” Chōza patiently explained.
Genma groaned, slumping back in his seat. “We should just make a run for it,” he suggested, already glancing toward the door.
Sukea, who had been entertaining a similar idea, nodded. “It’s a solid plan. We can cover each other’s exits.”
Guy, however, was aghast. He shot to his feet, his eyes blazing with determination. “No! We cannot dishonour ourselves by running away! It would bring shame upon our team and our sensei! We must work for our meal.”
Before the debate could escalate, the manager—a broad-shouldered Akimichi—appeared. She arched a brow at the commotion. “Is there a problem here?”
Guy stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Honorable manager, we humbly request the opportunity to work off our debt. Please allow us to serve your establishment as repayment for this magnificent meal.”
The manager studied the group for a moment before nodding. “Fine. The kitchen could use some extra hands. Follow me.”
—
The trio was ushered into the back of the restaurant, where they were promptly assigned tasks.
“Let’s see who can wash the most dishes!” Guy declared, rolling up his sleeves.
Sukea, against his better judgment, found himself rising to the challenge. “You’re on.”
Plates and bowls flew through their hands as they scrubbed, rinsed, and stacked with almost alarming intensity. Water splashed everywhere, and the occasional clatter of a dropped dish drew exasperated glances from the kitchen staff.
Genma, standing to the side, watched them with a mix of resignation and disbelief. “I didn’t think I’d be alone in being the normal one,” he muttered, though he still managed to step in and redirect some of their energy whenever it threatened to spiral out of control.
When the dishes were done, Guy moved on to vegetable prep, challenging Sukea to see who could chop the most carrots in the shortest amount of time. The competition escalated until the cutting boards were piled high with perfectly sliced vegetables—and a few slightly mangled ones from Genma’s reluctant contributions.
Next came mopping the floor, which somehow turned into a race to see who could cover the most ground. By this point, the kitchen staff had resigned themselves to the chaos, stepping around the trio with practised ease.
—
Hours later, the trio stumbled out of the kitchen, sweaty, exhausted, but oddly triumphant. The manager clapped them all on the back, nodding in approval. “You three are welcome back anytime—though preferably with your wallets.”
Chōza was waiting for them near the entrance, leaning casually against the wall. His smile was warm, his gaze proud. “Well done, Team 23. You’ve passed the test.”
Sukea blinked, realization dawning. This had been planned from the start. Chōza had orchestrated the entire ordeal instead of a combat test like he had expected.
Chōza pushed open the door, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on, kids. Let’s call it a night. We’ve got training bright and early tomorrow.”
—
Sukea barely had time to close the window behind him before the atmosphere in the apartment hit him. It wasn’t the peaceful, slightly awkward quiet he’d grown used to sharing with Kakashi—it was charged, like the air before a lightning storm. Something was brewing, and judging by the faint scuff marks on the floor from pacing, it wasn’t good.
“Kakashi, I’m home,” Sukea called cautiously, slipping off his shoes and making his way into the main room.
An irritated grunt answered him. It didn’t take long to find Kakashi, who was perched on the couch, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his silver hair even more dishevelled than usual. His brows were furrowed in a deep scowl, and his whole posture screamed brooding frustration.
Ah, right. Team Minato's assignment and test were today too.
Sukea winced inwardly. He’d thought about warning Kakashi about what he’d be walking into—particularly regarding Obito—but had ultimately decided against it. If anyone needed a dose of character-building, it was Kakashi.
Still, Sukea couldn’t resist poking the bear.
“So,” he began, sauntering into the room with his usual easy grin, “how’s the new team?”
Kakashi’s glare could have performed a Katon jutsu. “I don’t want or need them,” he said sharply. “I’m only doing this because Minato-sensei is making me.”
Sukea plopped down into the armchair across from him, pulling out one of his books. “But you passed,” he said cheerfully. “Congratulations. Welcome to the beautiful bond of teammates.”
Kakashi’s expression darkened even further. “Obito Uchiha is on my team,” he spat, the name dripping with disdain. “He’s reckless, annoying, and can’t even throw a kunai straight half the time. There’s nothing beautiful about it.”
Sukea raised an eyebrow. “And you’re an unapproachable know-it-all who barely speaks to anyone unless it’s a mission briefing,” he countered smoothly, leaning back and crossing his legs. “We all have our flaws. It’s good for you.”
Kakashi bristled at the remark, his fists clenching at his sides. “How is that supposed to help me?” he demanded.
“It’s called building character,” Sukea said with a dismissive wave, his tone dripping with mock wisdom. “Trust me, dealing with Obito will push you to grow in ways you didn’t even think were possible.”
Kakashi’s glare didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of doubt behind his irritation now. “You’re enjoying this,” he accused.
“Me?” Sukea pressed a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “Never. I did my time, and look at how well-adjusted I turned out.”
Kakashi gave him a long, sceptical look—the kind that could strip paint off a wall. It was completely unwarranted in Sukea’s opinion. He had taken great effort to act as normal and well-adjusted as possible during their time cohabitating.
Kakashi sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Because deep down, you know I’m right,” Sukea said smugly. “And because I have nowhere else to go.”
Kakashi huffed but didn’t argue. Sukea counted that as a win.
He turned the page of his book… Nope, still not as good as Icha Icha.