The night after the rain—a cool breeze carried the freshness of the air.
Tōji sat by the window, arms wrapped around his knees, leaning against the frame. Droplets from the eaves fell one after another—drip... drop... drip... drop—striking the ground in a gentle, soothing rhythm. The chirping of crickets rose and fell around him, only making the stillness feel deeper.
Just closing his eyes and listening, he could almost believe the world was at peace.
As a genin freshly shoved through the Academy's mass early graduation, Tōji had already spent years training his chakra. A few strands of night breeze weren't about to give him a cold. But that faint, almost elusive wind had a way of intoxicating him, smoothing out the rough edges of his mind.
He set aside his worries, if only for a moment, and let himself sink into the quiet.
Of course, if it hadn't rained for days, the night sky would've been scattered with stars. Especially since Tōji lived on the edge of the village, where the lights were sparse—perfect for staring up at the heavens and letting his mind wander.
In his book, nothing beat stargazing for killing time.
Too bad—he was heading to the battlefield tonight, and there were no stars to be seen. And there probably wouldn't be much leisure for that sort of thing in the days ahead.
Word from the front lines had come in recently—the fighting around Kikyōyama was mostly over. Kakashi, two years older than Tōji, had been making quite a name for himself in this Third Great Ninja War. Even Mitarashi Anko, freshly taken on as Orochimaru's apprentice, had already been earning her stripes at Kikyōyama.
"If the timeline holds, next up is a wave of Iwa-nin invading Hi no Kuni. The Kannabi Bridge campaign—frontlines stretched thin, Konoha in deep trouble."
Tōji only knew that battle would break out somewhere between six months to a year from now. He wasn't clear on the details...
Which meant—him, same cohort as Anko—he'd soon have no choice but to take the "Chūnin Preliminaries."
"War time. One word from the big-shot Hokage, and we're shoved through early graduation straight onto the 'exam field.' Sure, most genin who come back alive get promoted to chūnin—but I haven't exactly seen many fresh grads coming back at all."
"Even chūnin are cannon fodder out there. So what chance does a genin like me have? No connections, no backing—just a duck shoved onto the chopping block."
"Ha. If I make it back with all my limbs intact, then maybe I'll be worthy of inheriting the 'Will of Fire'—and get a few nice lines added to my shinobi file."
"Tch. So what if I know the plot in advance…"
After sitting in silence for so long, Tōji finally snapped out of his daze. Some things, sure—you can avoid them for a moment. But your common sense won't stay asleep forever.
And the thing was—the "plot" he knew mostly covered the years after Naruto was born. Everything before that was a blur of vague details.
Tōji was born into a minor family of Konoha—a "small shinobi clan," if you wanted to be generous about it. In truth, it was barely a step above civilian. They had a few more privileges, sure, but also a few more burdens.
These so-called minor clans ranged from a few dozen members down to a single family of three. And plenty of them had no bloodline advantage to speak of.
Bloodline limits or hereditary secret arts—those usually belonged to the great clans. Though, every now and then, a third-rate minor clan might have some self-cherished technique they'd never actually show anyone…
As for the Kazamatsuri clan—it was a no-name family through and through. The only trait Tōji had ever noticed was that their chakra affinities were oddly consistent: always Water plus Earth, born with it. Beyond that, nothing.
Their ordinary bloodline even showed in their looks—perfectly suited for blending into the background as faceless extras.
Tōji was exactly that—the most common shade of dark brown hair and dark brown eyes you'd find anywhere in the Naruto world. Not that he minded. He figured low profile was the best camouflage. And in his humble opinion, his coloring was way easier on the eyes than the straw-yellow, orange-yellow, or chestnut-yellow of some of his clansmen.
Fortunately, despite their plain appearance, the Kazamatsuri tended to have fairly clean, sharp features—and Tōji was no exception.
Not that looks were going to help him much on the battlefield. He was pretty sure of that.
As a genin, though, compared to the other nameless extras in his graduating class—the ones who never even got a line in the original story—Tōji did have one small advantage…