The Hokage's office was quiet.
Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting long bars of light across the wooden floor. The walls were lined with shelves stacked with scrolls—mission reports, treaties, sealed documents that carried the weight of decades. A large map of the Land of Fire hung behind the desk, marked with inked notes and tiny red pins.
At the center of the room stood a heavy wooden desk, polished smooth by years of use. Papers were stacked neatly in careful piles. A crystal globe rested near the edge, faint chakra mist swirling lazily inside it.
A knock echoed softly.
"Enter."
The door slid open. Kazu's former homeroom teacher stepped inside and bowed.
"You moved them to the new class," the Hokage said without looking up.
"Yes, Hokage-sama."
A pause.
The teacher shifted slightly.
"I did… but I wished to ask… why?"
The Hokage's eyes lifted slowly.
"Why?" he repeated.
"I understand the explanation given to the boys," the teacher continued carefully. "But I wanted to know the real reason."
Silence lingered in the room.
The Hokage leaned back in his chair. He reached for his pipe, packed it with tobacco, and lit it. The small flame flickered briefly before fading as he drew in a slow breath.
Smoke drifted upward.
"Well," he said at last, voice calm, "there is no special reason."
The teacher blinked.
The Hokage's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Call it… a gut feeling."
Another slow exhale of smoke.
"That black-haired boy."
The teacher straightened.
"His eyes."
The Hokage's expression hardened.
"They are not the eyes of a child."
A pause.
"They are the eyes of a soldier."
The room fell still.
The teacher frowned. "You believe he has seen battle?"
"Maybe," the Hokage murmured, lost briefly in thought."Or maybe not."
He tapped ash into a small tray.
"There was once another child… with eyes like that."
The teacher didn't need the name.
Silence settled again.
"But why move Akito as well?" the teacher finally asked.
The Hokage took another slow puff.
"He's funny," he said simply.
The teacher froze.
"…Hokage-sama."
"That Taniguchi boy," the Hokage continued calmly, "believes in miracle muscle drinks. Trips over his own sandals. Argues with shopkeepers twice his size."
A faint smirk appeared.
"He amuses me."
The teacher inhaled sharply.
"Hokage-sama, you cannot move a student to Class A just because he's funny."
The Hokage stared at him for a long moment.
Then—
He laughed.
A deep, warm sound that echoed through the office.
"Ha ha ha!"
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Relax. I did not move him only because he's amusing."
Another puff of smoke.
His eyes drifted toward the window, toward the Academy far below.
"And sometimes," he added quietly, "the loud ones keep the quiet ones alive."
The teacher fell silent.
The Hokage leaned back, pipe smoke curling upward.
"Let's see how things turn out."
Far below, inside Class A—
"Achoo!"
"Achoo!"
The two sneezes rang out at the exact same time.
The class went quiet for half a second.
Akito blinked. "...Did we just sync that?"
I rubbed my nose slowly.
"That's not normal," he muttered.
I stared straight ahead. "Someone's talking about us."
Akito leaned closer. "Good or bad?"
"With our luck?" I said flatly. "Bad."
Right then—
The bell rang.
The sharp clang cut through the room.
"That's all for now," Hirose announced, setting the chalk down. "See you after lunch break."
He picked up his papers and walked out without another word.
The room exploded into noise. Chairs scraped. Students stood. Conversations overlapped instantly.
Akito stretched dramatically. "I'm starving again."
"When aren't you starving?" I replied.
He grinned shamelessly.
I stood up and adjusted my bag. "I'm going to buy something to eat. You coming?"
Akito slowly slumped back into his chair.
"I can't move," he said gravely. "Starvation has taken my legs."
"You finished my noodles this morning."
"That was hours ago," he said. "My body is a high-performance machine."
I stared at him.
"…Your machine runs on scams and bad decisions."
He clutched his chest. "That hurts."
I sighed."Okay, stop crying. I'll bring you something cheap," I said.
Akito immediately perked up. "You're a hero."
I stepped out of the classroom and made my way through the hallway, down the stairs, and out of the Academy gates. The village air was warmer now, filled with the smell of grilled skewers and fresh bread.
The convenience store wasn't far — a small wooden shop wedged between a tool vendor and a dumpling stand. I grabbed two rice balls and the cheapest drink I could find. Paid. Left.
On the way back—
Something bright caught my eye.
I stopped.
High above the Academy, on the stone faces carved into the cliff, someone had splashed red paint across one of them.
Actually — not just splashed.
Graffiti.
Big, messy streaks across the Hokage monument.
And there he was.
A blond kid, standing on top of the statue's head, laughing like he owned the world. Paint bucket at his feet. Brush in hand.
Naruto.
I blinked.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Below, a teacher burst out of the Academy doors.
"NARUTO!" he shouted. "Get down from there right now!"
Naruto stuck his tongue out and leapt to the next carved head with surprising agility.
"You gotta catch me first, Iruka-sensei!"
The teacher took off after him.
Students poured out into the yard, pointing, laughing, shouting. Chaos spread fast.
I just stood there, holding two rice balls.
In the anime, it looked funny.
In real life?
It was just a nuisance.
Paint dripping. Teachers yelling. Students gathering like it was a festival. Someone would have to clean it. Someone would get blamed. Someone would file paperwork.
I adjusted the bag in my hand.
Not my problem.
I turned and walked back toward the Academy.
Lunch was getting cold.
I stepped back into Class A.
And immediately knew something was wrong.
My bench was crowded. Chairs shifted out of place. A loose circle had formed.
Akito stood in the middle of it, red-faced.
"What did you just say?" he snapped.
Across from him stood a taller boy with a lazy smirk and two shadows behind him.
"I said," the boy repeated slowly, "you little peasant should crawl back to Class C where you belong."
A few students snickered.
Akito's fists clenched.
He stepped forward—
A blur of green slid between them.
"Fighting your comrades is not youthful!" Rock Lee declared loudly, striking a dramatic pose. "True strength must be shown through honorable effort!"
The bully stared at him.
"…Move."
"Bullying is not manly!" Lee insisted.
The bully's smirk sharpened.
"And what would a cripple like you know about strength?"
The room went still.
Lee didn't react.
Akito did.
"You—!"
He lunged.
The bully moved faster than expected. He ducked and drove his knee straight into Akito's stomach.
The sound of air leaving lungs is always the same.
Akito folded, clutching his stomach.
The bully stepped in, fist pulling back for another strike.
I quickly scanned the room.
Distance. Angles. Reactions.
Neji Hyūga sat diagonally behind me near the wall. Back straight. Pale eyes steady. Watching.
He wouldn't involve himself for Akito.
But he wouldn't tolerate chaos near him.
And he definitely wouldn't tolerate someone slamming into his desk.
That was enough.
I shifted the rice ball in my hand.
Threw.
Thud.
It smacked the bully square in the face.
Rice scattered. Seaweed stuck to his cheek.
Before anyone processed it, I moved.
Two quick steps back.
Deliberate.
The bully wiped his face and charged.
He swung.
I didn't block.
I let it land.
My body gave with the force and stepped back—
Straight into Neji's desk.
The wood scraped sharply across the floor.
Loud.
The bully stepped forward to continue—
A hand caught his wrist mid-swing.
Firm. Controlled.
Neji stood.
"You are disturbing the class," he said evenly.
The bully tried to pull free.
He couldn't.
"And you moved my desk."
The air shifted.
This wasn't about Akito anymore.
The bully hesitated.
Neji's pale eyes didn't waver.
"If you wish to fight," he continued calmly, "do it outside."
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The bully clicked his tongue and pulled back.
"Tch. Whatever."
He stepped away with his lackeys.
Noise slowly returned.
Minimal exposure.Maximum result.
I straightened and walked back to my seat.
Akito followed, still rubbing his stomach.
"You used it as ammunition," he complained. "That was my lunch."
"I used it to save someone's ass," I said mockingly.
He blinked.
Then scratched the back of his head. "Well… thanks, I guess. For saving me."
Before I could respond—
"Yosh!" Rock Lee appeared beside my desk again.
"That was incredible timing, Kazu!" he declared. "Your spirit in that moment was extremely youthful!"
"It was a rice ball," I said.
Lee nodded seriously. "A rice ball thrown with conviction is still youthful!"
I gave him a small nod.
That seemed to satisfy him. He marched back to his seat.
I sat down.
The classroom slowly stabilized. Conversations resumed. Chairs shifted. Whispers carried faintly through the air.
And then—
That feeling.
A weight between my shoulder blades.
Someone was staring at me.
Focused.
I kept my posture relaxed. Didn't move immediately.
Then slowly, casually, I let my eyes drift across the room.
Left.
Right.
Front.
Nothing obvious.
Neji was facing forward.
The bully was whispering to his friends.
The girl with the bun was mid-conversation.
No one was looking at me.
The sensation lingered for a few seconds longer.
Then it faded.
I faced forward again.
Maybe I imagined it.
Or maybe someone blinked first.
Either way—
Hirose returned.
The classroom quieted almost immediately.
He paused just inside the doorway, eyes sweeping across the room. Desks slightly out of place. Energy still buzzing.
He ignored it.
A wide, easy smile spread across his face.
"Well then," he said brightly, clapping his hands once. "Let's take this outside. Shurikenjutsu drills."
For half a second—
Silence.
Then the room erupted.
"Yes!"
"Finally!"
"About time!"
Chairs scraped loudly. Students were already reaching for their weapon pouches.
The shift in atmosphere was instant. The earlier tension dissolved into competitive excitement.
The bully glanced toward our side of the room.
His expression twisted slightly.
Not loud. Not open hostility.
Just a thin, malicious smile that clearly said:
I'll show you.
Neji didn't react at all.
He simply stood, adjusted his sleeve, and walked toward the door with calm, measured steps. As if drills were neither exciting nor threatening.
Just routine.
Tenten, on the other hand, practically lit up.
Her eyes sparkled.
Finally.
This was her territory.
She rolled her shoulders back slightly, confidence radiating from her posture. If there was one place she wanted to shine, it was here.
Beside me, Akito stood up and pumped his fist.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath, trying to deepen his voice. "I'll show everyone I'm no pushover."
His legs were shaking.
Subtle.
But definitely nervous—trying very hard to look tough.
A shadow fell over our desk.
The bully and his two friends stopped beside us.
He looked at Akito first.
Snorted.
"Try not to embarrass Class A," he said lazily.
His friends chuckled.
Akito stiffened.
Then the bully's eyes shifted to me.
The smile vanished.
"Watch your back," he said quietly.
Not loud enough for the room.
Just enough for me.
Then he turned and walked toward the door.
I sighed internally.
Great. The only thing I need right now—a nemesis.
Before Akito could say anything, I stood and walked toward the gate.
He stared at me for a second, then hurried to catch up.
Students filtered out toward the yard, voices buzzing with anticipation.
Akito adjusted his sleeves nervously. He had already started talking to some other kid about target distance and stance.
"I've only thrown a few times," he admitted quietly. "In Class C we barely touched weapons."
He glanced at me.
"…You're not nervous?"
I paused half a second.
"I don't like attention," I answered honestly.
He frowned. "That's not the same thing."
Maybe not.
We stepped outside into the training yard.
The air felt open.
Exposed.
Wooden targets stood lined in rows at varying distances. Some were fixed. Some hung by ropes, swaying slightly in the breeze.
This wasn't about strength.
It was about precision.
And precision is harder to fake.
But I wasn't worried.
My accuracy with a firearm didn't translate cleanly to thrown steel. Distance, recoil, sight alignment—different mechanics entirely.
I'd thrown knives before.
In combat.
But I was never exceptional at it. Reliable, yes. Precise? Not particularly.
Which meant one thing.
I didn't need to fake mediocrity.
For once.
There was no reason to be nervous.
Two wooden targets were set side by side.
Students would throw in pairs.
"Five throws," Hirose said calmly. "Three shuriken. Two kunai."
"Hyūga. Lee."
Neji and Rock Lee stepped forward together.
Neji moved first.
No adjustment. No hesitation.
One throw.Center ring.
Second.Center ring.
Third.Center ring.
His kunai followed the same pattern. Clean rotation. Dead center.
Every throw precise.
No emotion. No reaction.
Just expectation.
Lee stepped up next.
"Yosh!"
He threw with power.
Too much power.
One shuriken clipped the edge.Another struck wide.The third hit, but barely.
His kunai fared slightly better—two solid hits, though off to the side.
Seeing Neji receive quiet murmurs of approval, Lee's expression trembled slightly.
He bowed stiffly.
If you watched closely, you could tell—
His heart wasn't in shurikenjutsu.
He lived for taijutsu. Speed. Strength. Impact.
Precision throwing just wasn't his battlefield.
"Tenten. Sato."
Tenten stepped forward.
Her posture changed completely.
Focused.
Calm.
She held three shuriken between her fingers—
And released them in one fluid motion.
All three struck the center circle almost simultaneously.
A few gasps escaped the line.
Then the kunai.
Both embedded dead center.
If you looked closely, the pattern of blades formed something almost symmetrical.
Like a flower blooming from steel.
Tenten puffed her chest slightly and glanced back at the class—
Waiting.
Expecting.
Most students had already resumed whispering.
The moment had passed too quickly.
Her shoulders drooped.
A tiny raincloud might as well have formed above her head.
Hirose cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Good control," he said, offering a small nod.
Tenten shuffled back into line, trying not to look disappointed.
Beside me, Akito's eyes were sparkling.
"She's amazing," he whispered.
"Yeah," I replied. "I guess."
Tenten didn't realize she'd gained a secret admirer.
Sato was Decent. A few hits. Nothing remarkable.
Pairs rotated quickly after that.
Some solid.
Some average.
Some clearly nervous.
Then—
"Mori. Taniguchi."
Akito stiffened.
"…That's us."
We stepped forward.
"Mori. Taniguchi."
Akito stiffened.
"…That's us."
We stepped forward.
Hirose stood between the two targets.
"For transfers," he said calmly, "focus on grip and release."
He demonstrated once—slow, controlled motion. Proper stance. Balanced wrist. Clean follow-through.
Akito nodded.
Then completely ignored it.
He glanced toward Tenten.
Took three shuriken in one hand.
And threw them together.
They fanned out—
And surprisingly—
One struck dead center.
One landed cleanly in the center ring.
One hit the outer ring.
And even more surprisingly—
The class was actually paying attention this time.
"Whoa!"
"No way!"
"Did you see that?"
Akito froze.
Then slowly turned to look at the target himself.
"…I meant to do that," he said, voice cracking slightly.
Laughter. Applause. A few impressed whistles.
He puffed up instantly.
His kunai followed, thrown one by one.
Both landed in the middle ring.
Not perfect.
But solid.
He stepped back grinning like he'd just unlocked a bloodline limit.
i wasn't as remarkable like him.
No flourish.
No copying.
Three shuriken—
First missed the board completely.
Second hit low.
Third clipped the edge and fell.
A few polite murmurs.
My kunai were better.
Both struck the middle ring cleanly.
Nothing special.
Nothing embarrassing.
Just… there.
We stepped back into line.
Akito was immediately surrounded.
Students slapped his back. Asked how he did it. Told him to show again.
He laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.
"I don't know, it just felt right!"
A few steps away, Tenten stood stiffly.
Teeth clenched.
No one even mentioned her perfectly arranged steel flower.
Her shoulders tightened.
For someone that skilled, her presence in this class was impressively thin.
Tragic, really.
She wasn't the only one staring daggers.
Across the yard, the bully's expression had hardened.
Jealousy sat openly on his face.
"Takaki. Kanemaru."
The bully and his friend stepped forward.
Takaki rolled his shoulders once, jaw tight.
He picked up three shuriken.
Glanced briefly at Akito.
And, predictably—
He tried to copy him.
Three shuriken released together.
They didn't even come close.
One hit dirt.
One spun wildly off to the side.
One barely grazed the wooden frame.
For half a second—
Silence.
Then laughter.
Real laughter.
Not polite.
Not subtle.
The loudest of all—
Akito.
He was practically wheezing.
"Maybe try one at a time!" he shouted, still grinning.
Takaki's face darkened instantly.
His friend shifted uncomfortably.
He picked up a kunai.
Grip too tight.
Shoulders tense.
I saw it before anyone else did.
The angle of his wrist.
The direction of his glare.
Not at the board.
At Akito.
My body moved before I gave it permission.
Weight shifted.
Eyes tracking the line between them.
If he released—
I'd intercept.
Then—
A firm hand clamped around Takaki's wrist.
Hirose.
He hadn't raised his voice.
He hadn't rushed.
But he was there.
Stopping the motion before the kunai even left the hand.
The yard went completely silent.
Hirose didn't release Takaki's wrist immediately.
The yard had gone completely silent.
A few leaves shifted in the breeze.
"That," Hirose said calmly, still holding the kunai, "is not how a shinobi behaves."
Takaki's jaw tightened, but he didn't resist.
"A ninja who lets emotion guide his weapon," Hirose continued, "is a liability."
His grip tightened slightly.
"And attacking a comrade—"
His voice hardened just enough.
"—is unacceptable."
Takaki looked away.
The laughter from earlier felt distant now.
Small.
Embarrassing.
Hirose lowered his hand and took the kunai from him.
"This is a training ground. Not a battlefield. If you cannot tell the difference, you are not ready for either."
A pause.
Then he looked at the class.
"Drill ends here."
Students shifted awkwardly.
Some avoided Takaki's gaze.
Some avoided Akito's.
"Dismissed," Hirose said.
Then his eyes returned to Takaki.
"You. With me."
Takaki swallowed but didn't argue.
He followed Hirose toward the Academy building, shoulders stiff.
The yard slowly exhaled.
Noise returned in small pockets.
Akito leaned toward me.
"…He was totally going to throw that at me, right?"
"Yes."
He went quiet.
You could almost see the moment of comprehension settling in.
"…What do you think will happen to him?"
"Don't know," I said. "Probably suspended."
He nodded slowly.
We didn't speak for a while after that.
It looked like no one had noticed me at all.
At the time—
I didn't know I had just jinxed it.
Students began dispersing toward the exit. Conversations restarted in low murmurs. The tension was already being folded away into gossip.
Akito stretched his arms.
"Man… Class A is intense."
He headed toward the gate.
I followed.
As I passed by Neji—
He didn't look at me.
Didn't slow down.
But as our shoulders nearly aligned, he spoke quietly.
"You have good reaction time."
Soft.
Measured.
Like a statement of fact.
Not praise.
Not accusation.
I stopped mid-step.
Turned slightly—
But Neji was already several paces ahead.
Back straight. Calm. Untouched.
"Akito, why'd you stop?" he called from the gate. "You zoning out again?"
"…Nothing."
I resumed walking.
I had missed my targets and taken a hit on purpose. I had played the part perfectly. But as I watched the back of the Hyūga prodigy, I realized there was a flaw in my calculated mediocrity.