The first week of the Academy passed.
Naruto Uzumaki had established himself as... nobody.
He wasn't the hooligan painting the walls and disrupting lessons, as the older teachers had anticipated. He wasn't a genius like Sasuke, whose name was whispered by the girls during recess.
He was a quiet boy in grey clothes, sitting in the back row by the window. He answered only when asked and made friends with no one. He became part of the furniture. A boring smudge on the bright canvas of the classroom.
And it was perfect.
At the start of the second week, Iruka-sensei entered the room with a stern expression, carrying a stack of papers. The smell of fresh ink and old wood instantly filled the space.
"Alright, everyone," he said, slapping the stack onto his desk and raising a small cloud of chalk dust. "Being a shinobi isn't just about kunai and techniques. It is also about knowledge. You have fifteen minutes. Topic: The Founding of Konoha and the First Hokage. Begin!"
The class rustled. Someone groaned; someone else confidently grabbed a pencil.
Naruto flipped his paper over.
Name the two founding clans of Konoha. What was the name of the First Hokage's brother? What philosophy did Hashirama Senju preach?
Too easy.
Thanks to Qi Concentration, his memory had become like a library archive. Before, the letters in textbooks would jump and blur, mixing into a mess. Now, every word from Iruka's lecture stood before his eyes, sharp and clear, as if carved in stone. He remembered the teacher's intonation, the smell of the chalk, even the way a fly had buzzed against the glass when they were told about the "Will of Fire."
The boy brought his pencil to the paper.
The Will of Fire... he thought with bitter irony. All villagers are family. We protect each other. A beautiful fairy tale. It's a pity that in this family, there is a foster child kept in the basement.
He could have written a perfect essay. He could have cited historical dates, the causes of the Uchiha and Senju conflict, and the economic prerequisites for the creation of hidden villages. A hot, childish sense of pride flared in his chest.
He wanted to get a perfect score. He wanted Iruka-sensei's eyes to widen in surprise. He wanted Sakura to stop looking at him like he was empty space. He wanted Sasuke, who was already furiously scribbling answers, to realize he wasn't the only one here with a brain.
But the instinct born in the cold of the Sanctuary was stronger.
Stick your head out, and it gets chopped off. Show strength, and you become a target. Show weakness, and you get trampled.
He didn't need to be the best. The best were hated or feared. He needed to be... normal.
Naruto exhaled, dousing the flame of ambition with the cold water of pragmatism.
He answered the first eight questions. Clearly, correctly, but without unnecessary detail.
Ninth question: Name the Second Hokage's primary elemental affinity.
He knew the answer. Suiton. Water.
His hand began to write the character. The graphite hesitated. Naruto erased what he had written and wrote instead: Earth.
Tenth question: The year the alliance was signed. He intentionally missed it by two years.
When he handed in his paper, he slotted it perfectly into the middle of the stack—not the first, not the last. Returning to his seat, he stared out the window, watching the clouds, but irritation still smoldered inside him at the necessity of pretending to be stupider than he was.
...
Two days later. The Academy training grounds.
The sun beat down mercilessly. The air was dry, dusty, and smelled of resin. Ten wooden targets with red circles stood in a row, awaiting their fate.
"A shinobi must be one with his weapon!" Iruka held a kunai, demonstrating the grip. "Your goal is the target. Ten attempts. Take your time. Breathe."
The demonstration began.
Kiba Inuzuka went first. He bragged loudly, tossing the kunai in the air, showing off. Result: 5 out of 10. The rest vanished into the grass.
Shikamaru Nara, yawning as if he were about to fall asleep standing up, lazily tossed his projectiles. 6 out of 10. Not bad, but lacking enthusiasm.
Sakura Haruno, blushing and constantly glancing back at Sasuke, hit 4 times. She lacked the strength to throw them properly.
Then, the Uchiha stepped up.
The class went quiet. Even the birds seemed to stop singing.
Sasuke approached the line. His face was a mask of indifference. He didn't show off; he simply took the weapon.
Inhale.
His hand darted forward. Not just a movement—perfect technique. A spare, calculated gesture.
Thwack.
Thwack. Thwack.
The sound of impacts merged into a single rhythm.
Eight kunai buried themselves in the wood. Two dead center in the bullseye, splitting splinters. Two misses on the edge, grazing the rim of the target.
"8 out of 10!" Iruka announced with undisguised pride. "Excellent, Sasuke. That is Genin level."
The girls squealed in delight. The Uchiha merely grunted and walked away, not even glancing at the result. He didn't care. He knew he was the best.
"Next! Naruto Uzumaki!"
The boy stepped out of the shadows.
He approached the line and picked up the first kunai.
The cold steel fit comfortably in his palm. The weight, the balance—everything felt incredibly crisp. Thanks to his nightly training, his body obeyed him perfectly.
He looked at the target.
To his Qi Sensory perception, it wasn't just a piece of wood, but a point in space. He felt the wind, the distance.
He knew he could hit 10 out of 10. He could have driven one kunai into the back of another, like in the tall tales.
But 10 out of 10 was a statement. A challenge to Sasuke. Attention.
And 4 out of 10 was a disgrace and remedial lessons that would waste his time.
He needed the golden mean.
Naruto raised his hand. He aimed for the center. His body automatically aligned the perfect trajectory.
And then he did it.
At the last moment, a split second before the release, he knocked his aim off with a microscopic movement of his pinky finger.
Thwack! — Outer ring.
Threw it off too much, he analyzed.
Second throw. Again, the internal struggle: the body wanted to hit, the mind forced it to miss.
Thwack! — Near the center.
Third.
Thwip! — The kunai flew wide, landing in the grass.
Naruto grimaced mentally. Missing on purpose turned out to be harder than hitting. It required a control over his reflexes that made his teeth ache.
You disgrace the predator inside you, the lazy, contemptuous voice of the Kyubi sounded like grinding metal. Playing games with prey? Pretending to be toothless? Pathetic.
Naruto ignored him.
Fourth. Fifth. Sixth.
Outer ring. Center. Outer ring.
He entered the rhythm of "mediocrity."
Seventh. Eighth. Ninth. Tenth.
He lowered his hand. Seven out of ten.
Silence hung over the clearing. It was different from Sasuke's silence. That had been admiration; this was surprise.
"Seven?!" Kiba whispered. "That loser hit seven times?"
"He almost caught up to Sasuke-kun..." one of the girls muttered.
Iruka blinked. He looked at the target, then at Naruto, and a wide, warm smile blossomed on his usually strict face. A smile of relief.
"Naruto! Seven out of ten! That's... that's magnificent! Excellent concentration!"
The student nodded briefly, hiding his hands in his pockets to conceal the slight tremor from the tension. He returned to the formation, feeling Sasuke's heavy, studying gaze on him.
...
After classes, the room emptied.
Iruka sat at his desk, sorting through papers. Naruto stood before him, feigning humility.
"Naruto, I wanted to talk." The teacher put down his pen. There was no pity or wariness in his eyes anymore—only hope. "I checked the tests. 80 points. The fourth highest result in the class. You knew about Hashirama, you knew about the clans. And today. 7 out of 10 kunai."
He sighed, his shoulders relaxing.
"Honestly, I was worried. When you came in, so quiet, in those grey clothes... I thought you had shut down. I was afraid you had become embittered. But this..." He tapped his finger on the desk. "This shows that you are trying. You are working on yourself. And you are succeeding."
Naruto looked down at his sandals. He felt a twinge of shame. Iruka was a good man. He was genuinely happy for the success of the orphan everyone else saw as a monster. He wanted to believe that Naruto was normal.
And Naruto gave him that belief.
"Thank you, Iruka-sensei. I... I just want to become a good shinobi."
"And you will." The teacher smiled. "Keep it up. You're dismissed."
Naruto walked out of the Academy, squinting against the setting sun.
80 points. 7 kunai.
Not 100. Not perfection. Not genius.
It was "enough."
Enough to be praised, but not envied. Enough to be considered promising, but not dangerous.
He was a "solid average." The safest position in a world where the nail that sticks out gets hammered down.
Boring, the Fox grumbled.
Safe, Naruto replied, heading toward the forest.
The day was over. The night was beginning. There, in the darkness, he no longer had to hold back.