The classroom wasn’t large, with four rows of long tables squeezed in with about thirty people.
The teacher pushed the door open and walked in, a register tucked under his arm, and stood on the podium.
His gaze swept across the room before he spoke unhurriedly.
“I am your Homeroom Teacher.
From today on, I will be responsible for your basic courses.”
“First, self-introductions.
One by one, stand up, state your name, and tell us your goal.”
He opened the register and read the first name.
A boy from the Sarutobi clan stood up, his back as straight as a wooden stake.
“Sarutobi—my goal is to become an excellent Ninja, protect Konoha, and live up to the expectations of my clan.”
He sat down.
Someone from the Hyuga Clan.
“Hyuga—to protect Konoha and continue the clan’s glory.”
They sat down.
Someone from the Akimichi clan.
“Akimichi—to protect Konoha, and not fail…”
Kitahara Kaede leaned back against his chair.
Protect Konoha, excellent Ninja, clan expectations.
The same phrases went round and round, as if the parents had issued a standardized set of answers before enrollment.
Seven or eight more were called after that, all carved from the same mold.
Even the Homeroom Teacher began to space out a little.
Until—
“Jiraiya.”
The white-haired youth stood up with a start.
He propped both hands on the desk, tilted his chin up, and spoke louder than everyone else combined.
“My name is Jiraiya!”
He looked around the classroom, his expression as solemn as if he were announcing something momentous.
“My goal—to become the strongest Ninja!”
A pause; everyone thought he was finished.
But he didn’t sit down.
“And then—to save all the beautiful girls in this world!”
The classroom went silent for a beat, then erupted into chaos.
Several children from prominent families in the front row turned to look at him, their expressions as if they were seeing a new species at the zoo.
Two sitting together whispered to each other, not even hiding their laughter.
Tsunade was next to Kitahara Kaede; her elbow propped on the table, she spat out two words expressionlessly.
“Pervert.”
Her voice wasn’t loud.
But the classroom was only so big; the rows in front and behind heard her clearly.
Another round of laughter exploded.
Instead of being annoyed, Jiraiya winked at Tsunade.
“This is called universal love!
My vision is on another level!”
The Homeroom Teacher looked at him for two seconds, made no comment, jotted something down in the register, and turned the page.
Jiraiya sat back down carelessly, a smirk still on his face.
But his hand under the table clenched for a moment.
He had caught those looks just now, every single one of them.
He had no clan, no surname, and no background.
But so what?
He would prove he wasn’t inferior.
The Homeroom Teacher tapped the desk and turned to the next page.
“Orochimaru.”
The black-haired youth in the corner stood up.
His movements were slow—not out of hesitation, but because he was in no hurry.
He stood at the boundary between shadow and sunlight, his pale face devoid of expression.
Golden slitted pupils swept across the classroom.
“Orochimaru.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear.
“My goal—to master all the Ninjutsu in this world and understand the essence of all techniques.”
Without another word, he sat down after finishing.
This time, no one in the classroom laughed.
It wasn’t because they were scared.
It was because his tone was too calm, so calm it was like he was stating an already decided fact.
The teacher’s pen paused on the register for a second.
He gave Orochimaru an extra glance, said nothing, and turned the page.
After those two spoke, the atmosphere in the classroom became a bit strange.
The “sense of normalcy” established by the previous twenty-odd people was shattered by these two.
“Tsunade.”
Tsunade stood up.
Her blonde ponytail whipped around as she put her hands on her hips.
“Tsunade.
My grandfather is the First Hokage, and my grand-uncle is the Second Hokage.”
She paused, her expression incredibly serious.
“So, I also want to become an excellent Ninja.”
After she said this, the teacher nodded and prepared to turn the page.
Tsunade hadn’t sat down yet.
“And also—”
Tsunade’s voice rang out again.
“I want to win all the money from every casino in the Ninja World.”
The teacher’s pen stopped.
The classroom went silent again.
It was different from Orochimaru’s turn.
Orochimaru’s was cold.
This time was bewilderment.
Two seconds later, a boy in the corner snorted with laughter and quickly covered his mouth.
Tsunade’s gaze swept over.
The boy shrunk back.
She sat down and smoothed her hair, looking perfectly composed.
Kitahara Kaede watched from the side, his lips twitching slightly.
Win all the money from every casino in the Ninja World.
With her future gambling luck as the “Legendary Sucker,” this sentence was probably the most absurd of all the goals in the classroom today combined.
“Hagoromo Kaede.”
Kitahara Kaede stood up.
A few people in the classroom who knew of the Hagoromo Clan gave him an extra look—an old clan that had allied with the Senju during the Sengoku period; although their numbers were now sparse, their foundation remained.
“Hagoromo Kaede.”
His voice was very flat.
“My goal—to protect those I cherish.”
That was it.
A sentence shorter than even Orochimaru’s.
He sat down.
It didn’t cause much of a stir in the classroom.
Most people lumped this in with the “protect Konoha” pile; there wasn’t much difference.
But the teacher’s hand holding the pen paused.
He glanced at Kitahara Kaede, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just wrote the name in the register without making a sound.
Not “protect Konoha.”
Not “become an excellent Ninja.”
It was “those I cherish.”
The scope had narrowed.
From “everyone” to “those I cherish.”
At this age, most people still couldn’t distinguish between “what should be said” and “what one wants to say.”
The previous twenty-odd people all said “what should be said.”
This person said “what he wanted to say.”
Orochimaru withdrew his gaze, his finger unconsciously tapping the desk.
Interesting.
Not much, just a little.
As soon as Kitahara Kaede’s bottom touched the seat, a hand reached out from beside him.
Tugging his sleeve.
Tsunade leaned over with her head tilted and lowered her voice.
“Those you cherish?”
She blinked.
“Who?”
Kitahara Kaede didn’t look at her.
He fished something out of his pocket and placed it on the corner of her desk.
A piece of candy.
Tsunade looked down at the candy, then back up at him.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Didn’t you bet that someone would make a fool of themselves today?”
Tsunade was stunned for a moment.
Kitahara Kaede gestured with his chin toward Jiraiya.
“You won the bet.
What kind of dango do you want to eat?”
Tsunade’s attention took a turn.
She peeled the candy wrapper, popped it into her mouth, and said indistinctly, “Three-Color Dango, two skewers.
Your treat.”
“Fine.”
Tsunade chewed the candy, her eyes drifting toward the window.
Although she had won the bet, that sentence was still stuck in her mind, not quite leaving.
Those I cherish.
She couldn’t say why, but she just felt that her name should be in that answer.
But he didn’t say it.
She wanted to press him, but felt that asking would make her seem too concerned.
Tsunade bit down hard on the candy.
Whatever.
He can’t run away anyway.
Jiraiya propped his arms on the table, his chin resting on the back of his hands.
He watched the two in front of him.
One handing something over, the other receiving it.
They were talking idly in low voices; occasionally, Tsunade would tilt her head, and the tip of her blonde ponytail would brush against the boy’s shoulder.
Jiraiya watched for a few seconds.
He couldn’t describe what that feeling was.
When he looked elsewhere, he happened to meet Orochimaru’s gaze.
Across several people, the two of them locked eyes for a split second.
Orochimaru withdrew his gaze expressionlessly, as if he had accidentally seen a bug by the side of the road.
Jiraiya curled his lip.
This class has quite a few weirdos.
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