"Calm down, Tōichi. As long as I'm there, he'll be fine."
Kakashi's voice was low, almost weary.
He had never seen Kimoto Tōichi this worked up before — and that alone told him everything.
Tōichi truly saw Arata as his student.
"You?" Tōichi gave a bitter laugh. "How many comrades have died beside you, Kakashi? I know what Anbu life means — but I don't want that for him."
He looked away, his expression firm.
"I want him to be a shinobi who protects the village while living freely under the sun… not buried in the shadows."
Kakashi fell silent.
Tōichi's words pulled at something deep — the old ache of names long gone. Obito. Rin.
Ghosts that still lingered behind his calm exterior.
"I'm not trying to drag him into the dark," Kakashi said after a moment. "I just want him to grow. I won't take him on any mission that's too dangerous."
But Tōichi still shook his head.
"No. Not until he can protect himself. I won't risk it."
Kakashi's visible eye softened slightly. "You really have changed, Tōichi."
Tōichi met his gaze. "And you haven't?"
For a long while, they just stood there in silence.
Because both of them knew the truth — they had changed.
Because of Arata.
Finally, Kakashi broke the quiet.
"Fine. Let's make a deal, then."
Tōichi frowned. "What kind of deal?"
"When he's strong enough to defeat you, I'll take him out myself."
Tōichi blinked, then thought about it seriously.
He wasn't a frontline fighter — more of an intelligence and interrogation specialist — but even then, his strength wasn't something a fresh graduate could compare to.
If Arata could defeat him, it meant one thing: he already had the power of a jōnin.
Tōichi nodded slowly.
"Alright. If he reaches that level, I'll trust him to you."
Anyone overhearing them would've thought they'd gone mad.
A genin defeating a jōnin within a year? Impossible.
But both men knew better.
They'd seen Arata's terrifying potential firsthand — and neither of them doubted what he could become.
In three months, the genin teams would be allowed to take missions outside the village.
By then, they both expected Arata to be ready.
The next day, Team Eleven completed another D-rank mission — clearing out trees near the southern forest.
By afternoon, Arata had already mastered tree climbing.
His speed put enormous pressure on Itsuki and Tanako, who had started training twice as hard just to keep up.
Still, their progress lagged behind — their talent wasn't bad, but next to Arata, anyone looked ordinary.
Later that evening, Arata walked home through one of Konoha's quieter streets.
It was late — the streets were empty, the air cold.
Halfway down the road, he stopped abruptly.
His instincts screamed danger.
The wind stilled.
The silence was so sharp, even the chirping of insects had vanished.
His eyes scanned the darkness — no figures, no chakra flares, nothing visible.
But every hair on his neck stood on end.
If I take another step forward… I'll die.
He turned slightly, preparing to take another route —
—whizz!
A sudden barrage of kunai and shuriken tore through the air.
The metallic shriek of steel slicing wind filled the night.
"Damn—!"
In the same instant, Arata's chakra surged to his legs.
He vanished.
The storm of blades slammed into the ground where he'd stood — exploding in sparks as metal struck stone.
Each weapon buried itself deep in the wall with bone-cracking force.
Arata reappeared several meters away, breath steady but heart racing.
He glanced back — the wall behind him was riddled with kunai, each one embedded deep enough to kill ten men.
"One hit… and I'd be done for," he muttered.
High above, on a nearby rooftop, a figure crouched among the branches.
The attacker clicked his tongue.
"Not bad… he reacted fast. That wasn't pure speed — that was instantaneous chakra control. Like a short-range Shunshin no Jutsu…"
He narrowed his eyes.
"…and he hasn't even learned Shunshin."
Below, Arata's expression hardened. He drew a kunai, sliding into a defensive stance.
This level of precision… whoever it is, they're far above me.
He didn't panic. Instead, his mind started analyzing.
Retreat route. Timing. Chakra reserves. Possible terrain use.
All in seconds.
If I turn my back, I'm dead. He's fast — faster than me.
The wind blew again. The silence returned.
Arata stayed perfectly still, kunai raised, every sense stretched thin.
Then —
He felt it.
A flicker of chakra behind him.
"So fast—!"
The enemy appeared behind him in a blur.
Arata didn't have time to think — instinct took over.
He spun on his heel and lashed out with a sharp kick.
Boom!
His foot connected — the enemy's body burst into smoke.
A clone.
"Damn it!"
Arata landed lightly, only to feel the ground beneath his feet shift.
"Earth Release: Swamp of the Underworld!"
The once-solid street turned into thick, clinging mud.
Arata's legs sank immediately.
The more he struggled, the faster he was dragged down.
Within seconds, the sludge was up to his waist, pulling hard like invisible hands.
He gritted his teeth.
"So… it's a jōnin, huh?"
The night deepened around him — silent, heavy, and dangerous.
And for the first time since awakening his system, Arata found himself facing something he couldn't simply calculate his way out of.
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