The classroom air, still buzzing from Makima's stunning introduction, settled into the mundane rhythm of the first lecture: basic shinobi history and the structure of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Makima sat quietly, her back perfectly straight, taking notes with precise, almost unnaturally neat strokes of her brush. She was listening to the instructor, but she was primarily analyzing her environment.
The room was full of potential subordinates. Each child represented an aspiring will—a will that, if properly channeled, would serve her goal of absolute control.
The first test came during a discussion on the role of clan leaders in Konoha's foundation. A boy named Torune, an overly confident heir from a minor branch family, attempted to dominate the conversation, loudly arguing that the Sarutobi clan had overstepped its bounds historically.
"It's about strength!" Torune declared, thumping his fist on the desk. "If you can't fight, you don't lead. The Utatane Clan has always understood that better than the peace-loving types!"
Makima waited a beat, allowing the harshness of his tone to resonate before she intervened. She turned her golden eyes toward him, the expression one of gentle, wounded concern.
"Torune-san, that is a very brave perspective," Makima said softly, her voice carrying a melodic resonance that cut through the noise better than Torune's shouting. "However, I believe the history scrolls emphasize that Konoha's true strength comes from the comfort of unity. If we are constantly arguing about who is strongest, doesn't that make the entire village feel… fragmented? It makes me feel terribly worried."
She issued a silent, internal command, focusing only on Torune's immediate environment: "You must feel intensely embarrassed by your previous outburst."
Torune, who had been glowing with self-importance, suddenly felt a rush of blood to his cheeks. His chest tightened, and he realized he had just yelled about clan politics in front of the most beautiful, gentle girl he had ever met, causing her worry.
"A-ah. Well, I just meant—um, logically speaking," Torune stammered, lowering his gaze and suddenly finding his shoes fascinating.
Makima gave him a small, forgiving smile—the reward for his instant, humiliating submission. "Thank you for explaining, Torune-san. I am sure your heart is in the right place. We all just need a little guidance to ensure our thoughts benefit the village, don't we?"
Torune's POV: She called me brave... but I scared her. She's so delicate, she shouldn't have to worry about politics. I need to be better. I need to be quiet and strong so I can protect her tranquility. The humiliation was instantly transmuted into a powerful, protective devotion.
The instructor moved on to the basics of chakra molding, asking the class to attempt a simple leaf adhesion exercise. Makima, thanks to her Uzumaki lineage and her own internal commands to optimize chakra flow, was the first to succeed, the leaf sticking perfectly flat to her index finger with minimal effort. She lowered her hand quickly, trying not to draw undue attention.
Only one person in the room was not focused on her success: Minato Namikaze.
The blonde boy was already experimenting, not just sticking the leaf to his finger, but trying to move the chakra to the very tip of the leaf without breaking the adhesion. He was quiet, focused, and unsettlingly brilliant.
Makima turned to him, recognizing an extremely strong will. This one could not be commanded with simple psychological manipulation; he needed to be seduced by her concept of order.
"Minato-kun," Makima whispered politely, leaning forward slightly. "Your technique is flawless. Are you attempting to move the chakra through the leaf? That is very ambitious."
Minato looked up, his bright blue eyes meeting her gold. He didn't blush or stammer like the others; he simply held her gaze with curiosity.
Minato's POV: She's incredibly pretty, but there's something... structured about her eyes. Like looking into a perfectly cut diamond. Her chakra control is amazing, too, but it feels almost robotic. No wasted energy.
"Yes, Utatane-san," Minato replied easily. "If we can move the chakra through the leaf, we can learn about transmission and range control. It's the next logical step."
Makima smiled, but this time, the smile was fractionally more sincere. This boy was strong enough to offer a compelling conversation, a complexity she hadn't anticipated.
"That is absolutely correct, Minato-kun," she said, tilting her head sweetly. "The logical next step. It is wonderful to find someone who prioritizes efficiency and the perfect path to a solution. I will be sure to observe your progress closely. I believe you will make a wonderful ninja for the village."
She issued no direct command, but by offering her ultimate compliment—praise for his efficiency and logic—she reinforced her image as the ultimate judge of order.
During the mid-morning break, a dark-haired girl named Hana approached Makima's desk. Hana was a commoner, intensely focused on hard work, and Makima's sudden, unchallenged rise to the top of the class irritated her. Her expression was neutral, but her posture communicated skepticism.
"Utatane-san," Hana started, her voice dry. "Your chakra control is excellent. Does the Uzumaki lineage make it that much easier to mold chakra, or have you just been studying for years?"
This was a challenge—a subtle attempt to dismiss Makima's perfection as either inherited genetics or sheer privilege, both forms of chaos Makima despised.
Makima looked up, her soft smile momentarily replaced by a deep, world-weary sigh that lasted less than a second. Her expression of pure, exhausted dedication was perfectly calculated before the mask snapped back on.
"Hana-san, what a thoughtful question," Makima replied, her voice imbued with a quiet humility. "While the Uzumaki blood does provide volume, discipline is everything. I am often awake long after the moon is set, practicing and refining. It is lonely work, but I do it for the village."
She aimed a quick, surgical command at the girl, not commanding obedience, but commanding respect for her effort: "You must perceive my dedication as an absolute, tragic sacrifice."
Hana's challenging posture crumbled. She suddenly saw the crimson-haired heiress not as a gilded lily, but as a small, driven figure bearing an enormous weight. Her critical edge dissolved into awestruck pity.
Hana's POV: She stays up all night? The Utatane Heiress sacrifices her childhood just to be this perfect? I thought she was a genius, but she's a martyr. My own efforts are nothing compared to that. I should follow her lead. If I can prove my dedication, perhaps she will recognize my worth.
"I see," Hana murmured, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you for sharing that, Utatane-san. I... I will work harder."
Makima's smile returned, gentle and entirely victorious. "That's wonderful, Hana-san. I have absolute faith in your potential." The control was complete. The rival was now an aspirant.
By the end of the day, Makima's position was unassailable. She was polite to everyone, never condescending, always deferential to the instructor, and universally seen as the brilliant, diligent, and fragile heiress who needed the protection and support of every strong student in the class.
As Makima left the room, the whispers followed her like a gentle, protective current. Her commands had rooted deeply: the boys saw her as a protected treasure, the girls saw her as a paragon of sacrificial effort. The initial shock of her beauty had solidified into a protective devotion and an active desire for her approval, a passive acceptance of her hidden authority. Makima had ensured that the foundation of the Control Devil's power—subservience and adoration—was firmly laid in the hearts of Konoha's next generation. They saw her as the damsel who needed saving, never the queen who commanded her entire court.