The Kazamatsuri clan, through generations of accumulation, did have a few resources to their name—a dozen or so scrolls of common low-rank jutsu. Some Water Release, some Earth Release.
There were also a few scrolls the old clan head never let Tōji touch. Who knows—maybe they were forbidden techniques?
Either way, the Kazamatsuri's resources were nothing to brag about, but nothing to sneeze at either. Tōji kept a level head—he only compared himself to other third-rate minor clans.
He also understood that one day, he'd have to repay the clan for what he'd received.
But even so, he counted himself lucky. Plenty of no-name shinobi families had been declining for generations—some had already faded into ordinary civilian households. The Kazamatsuri were still shinobi, which already put them ahead of a lot of Konoha's ninja.
As far as Tōji knew, among all the genin in his graduating class, only a handful could pull off two or three C-rank jutsu. Meanwhile, Tōji had quietly mastered four C-rank techniques—and had both Water and Earth affinities to boot!
Setting aside special cases like Mitarashi Anko, who had a famous mentor taking her under his wing—Tōji considered himself a hidden top student, quietly running laps around the rest of his class.
It's just that none of his classmates ever noticed his real combat ability. All they knew was that his theory grades were reliably stuck in eleventh place.
Take Iruka Umino, for example—same year as Tōji, future mentor of the savior himself. Even he didn't get force-graduated early!
And yet, Tōji didn't feel like he had anything to be proud of. He was only coasting on a tiny sliver of "foreknowledge" that let him train smarter, earlier.
A real genius—like Kakashi, two years older—had already been a chūnin for years. And if you did the math, he'd probably make jōnin within the next six months or so…
So, yeah.
Even knowing the plot—this was all he got.
Tōji had come to terms with that a long time ago: fairy tales are lies! Even if you're a reincarnated soul, the world's protagonist isn't going to be you. You just don't have the stature for it.
The so-called "protagonist of the world"—that role is just a show put on for others.
Better to even out your mindset. Be the protagonist of your own story!
And so—staying alive, surviving the Third Great Ninja War—that became Tōji's biggest wish for now.
As for his parents' expectations… well, he'd deal with that later.
His mom and dad were born during the First Great Ninja War. Back then, Konoha's major clans were churning out high-quality shinobi left and right. Compared to them, his parents had been painfully average—overlooked, never made the cut to become ninja.
Even though the Kazamatsuri had already declined to a third-rate clan with barely a handful of households left—six or seven at most…
Besides the old clan head, who was long retired, every other Kazamatsuri shinobi older than Tōji had already been killed off—in the Second War, and now in this Third War.
The two little kids younger than him didn't count. Among his generation in the clan, Tōji was the only genin still alive and in one piece…
With all that weighing on him, it wasn't just his parents' hopes that put him in a bind—it was the entire clan's expectations.
Before his "special memories" fully awakened, Tōji had already been identified as having shinobi potential. So becoming a ninja was never his choice to make!
But in his ninja training, he did have a say. He prioritized the Body Flicker! Prioritized the Substitution Technique! He also learned to make himself invisible, to never show off, to stay low-key.
In this second life, there was no shortage of things to worry about. But Tōji's approach was simple: can I solve it? If yes, no need to worry. If no, no point worrying.
After going through his mental checklist—whether he was preparing to pad his resume for a promotion, or preparing to die out there…
"Ahhh~mm. Time to sleep." Tōji let out a long yawn. Sleepy now—just wanted to hit the hay!
"Third Hokage's got us Academy kids graduating on a whim, huh? Must be so we 'flowers of Konoha' can get an early taste of the storm."
Tōji lay flat on his bed and made a bet with the ceiling: tomorrow, right after squad assignments, they'd get a mission—and it'd be the kind that ships them straight to the front lines.