After a month of anticipation, the Academy officially opened its doors. The new and old intakes were gathered in the central courtyard, greeted warmly by the Sandaime Hokage, draped in his ceremonial white robes and his iconic hat, the crimson symbol for 'Fire' etched sharply on the front.
"Welcome, all of you, today, for this fine morning" he began, his voice echoing with a fatherly warmth.
'And I've already lost interest,' Ryo grieved internally, adjusting his stance to look like he was actually focusing on the speech.
The entire display was a hauntingly familiar performance. It reminded him of the propaganda he had been subjected to in his past life—from the orphanage to the state schools, and finally the military. It was always the same tune: 'The leader is great, the nation is your motherland, and all must serve the motherland.' It was a message far more effective than he cared to admit, a slow-acting poison that seeped into the psyche of the young.
Though he lacked the concrete proof or a perfect memory of Hiruzen Sarutobi's character—his knowledge of the Naruto series remained a hazy, fragmented map—the "vibe" the man gave off was unmistakable. Ryo had seen this archetype before.
It was the classic play: talking of lofty aspiration for the future, shimmering dreams in the people's hearts while the people below struggled in the dirt. Hogging the majority of the resources, using the excuses of the "greater good" at every criticism thrown at them while pointing fingers at external forces to be the "wicked" to be responsible for the suffering of the internal.
Watching his fellow peers getting magnetized by Hiruzen's voice felt like a nauseating hit of nostalgia. It took him back to his days in the military, watching his "brothers-in-arms" throw their lives away and become one time use meat piñata in the field, only to be reduced to a numerical casualty on a spreadsheet the following morning.
The spreadsheet he compiled, out of his own will, as higher-ups even refuse to bother with it.
That was their entire purpose. Their only reason for surviving eighteen years in that world was to satisfy the strategic maneuvers of a man behind a desk.
Ryo didn't necessarily hate Hiruzen or his previous leaders.
He understood that the only way for a weak-willed leader to keep a divided populace grinding in their workplace and marching towards the battlefield is through the careful application of lies and deception.
Without the ideology or "Will of Fire" which Hiruzen called it, revolts would just be at their front door. Anyone who wasn't brainwashed simply wanted to live, even if it meant clinging to the very edge of humanity.
However, understanding the game was very different from forgiving the players.
"When the tree leaves dance, one shall find flames. The fire's shadow will illuminate the village, and once again, tree leaves shall bud anew."
'Finally, it's over,' he thought as Hiruzen took his leave and the students began to enter the academy building.
He ran through the Class Green routine in his head just to be sure:
Monday: History and Shinobi Theory.
Tuesday: Culture Studies and Kunai Throwing.
Wednesday: Theology, Geography, and the Weekly Sparring sessions.
Thursday: Literature, Language, and Math.
Friday: Sociology and Science.
'Ten out of twenty hours a week will be pure indoctrination... yeah, I can handle that.'
He was confident in his mental fortifications, that he would be influenced no matter what.
This is the reality of propaganda; it does not matter what you believe, listening to daily lies will subtly make you believe it's true.
So he kept a single internal motto as his anchor to remind him of the folly of following them: This is no different from the past.
***
"I wish we could have seen Sandaime-sama for longer; he seems so busy!" one girl whispered as they entered the classroom.
"Doubt he has enough time for us kids; it can't be easy being the Hokage," a boy replied solemnly.
"If only those evil hidden villages would just stay still, he wouldn't have to work so hard."
As the Class Green students took their seats, some were still buzzing from the speech while others were repeating "facts" they had heard from their seniors or parents to appear smarter to their peers or, in Ryo's eyes, just 'good parrots' repeating lines without thinking.
He honestly did not have a problem hearing it at first, as it was expected in his opinion to occur, but since he was in a large hall with 360 students all at once, it became annoying for him as their voices echoed in the hall , and he ended up hearing everyone's voice all over the place.
The chatter died down instantly when their instructor walked in.
"Good morning. I am Suzuki, your instructor for this year's Class Green batch."
Suzuki was an average-looking old man wearing the standard green flak jacket. Ryo's eyes immediately zeroed in on the man's missing left arm. Suzuki didn't try to hide it; in fact, he carried the stump with a subtle, unmistakable hint of pride, as if it were a medal of honor from a previous war.
'Very moronic pride,' Ryo noted.
"Before we dive into our class, let's familiarize ourselves," the old man said, flashing a grin at a boy in the corner. "You there, in the right corner. Stand up and state your name, your likes and dislikes, and your dream for the future."
The boy, who had been caught daydreaming about his crush, stuttered as he stood up.
"I-I'm Sora!"
"I like Meg— I mean, I like eating mirin!"
"I hate anyone who comes too close to me— I mean, I hate the Mizukage!"
"And my goal is—"
"Just say you want to marry Megumi, you coward! Don't try to pivot to something else!" a mocking voice shouted from the back.
As the room erupted into laughter and Sora sat down, nervously laughing with them to let the moment pass, Suzuki moved through the rest of the class. The "dreams" were a predictable gallery of clichés:
Some wanted to be the next Hokage, the "Father of Konoha," causing Ryo to internally press X to doubt a couple of times.
Some wanted to be the first shinobi in their family to prove their worth to their civilian parents.
Some craved legendary status, wanting to be the next "God of Shinobi" like the Shodai Hokage.
Some came from families of small merchants from various parts of the Land of Fire who just wanted to earn enough money to survive and live well. Their families saw Konoha as the perfectly safe place in the entire Land of Fire, but living in Konoha as a small merchant without clan backing or noble connections is unviable, let alone a commoner who would die on the way before even reaching here. So, they were sent from among their families to become shinobi in hopes of getting subsidies from Konoha.
A few unorthodox types talked about founding their own clans—though Ryo suspected they were confusing the idea of forming a "clan" with having a "harem," causing him to double press X internally to doubt.
Soon, it was Ryo's turn. He didn't see much point in being wary of what he says; unless he talks like a rebel or a maniac, he can just be honest.
"I am Sosuke Ryo," he said, "I like reading and I dislike staying in one place without a clear reason. My goal… is to learn every single jutsu that I possibly can."