~ Every 100 Power Stones = Bonus Chapter!
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The classroom wasn’t large.
Four rows of long desks, thirty-odd kids crammed in.
The teacher pushed the door open and walked in, roster in hand, and took his place at the podium.
His gaze swept the room, unhurried.
“I am your homeroom teacher.
Starting today, I’ll be handling your foundational courses.”
“First, self-introductions.
One at a time.
Stand up, say your name, and tell us your goal.”
He flipped open the roster and called the first name.
The Sarutobi boy stood up, spine straight as a wooden post.
“Sarutobi, my goal is to become an outstanding ninja, protect Konoha, and live up to my family’s expectations.”
Sat down.
The Hyuga kid.
“Hyuga — protect Konoha, carry on the clan’s glory.”
Sat down.
The Akimichi kid.
“Akimichi — protect Konoha, live up to…”
Kaede leaned back in his chair.
Protect Konoha.
Outstanding ninja.
Family expectations.
The same lines, cycling on repeat.
Like parents had handed out a standard-answer sheet before the first day of school.
Seven or eight more names after that.
All cut from the exact same mold.
Even the homeroom teacher was starting to zone out.
Until,
“Jiraiya.”
The white-haired boy shot to his feet.
He planted both hands on the desk, chin lifted, voice louder than everyone before him combined.
“My name is Jiraiya!”
He swept his gaze around the room, expression dead serious, like he was about to announce something historic.
“Goal — become the strongest ninja!”
A pause.
Everyone assumed he was done.
He didn’t sit down.
“And then, save every beautiful girl in the world!”
The classroom went silent for a beat, then erupted.
Several clan heirs in the front row turned to stare at him, faces like they’d spotted a new species at the zoo.
Two kids sitting together leaned in and muttered, not even trying to hide their laughter.
Beside Kaede, Tsunade propped her elbow on the desk, face completely blank, and produced two words.
“Pervert.”
Not loud.
But the room was only so big.
Everyone within four rows heard it clear as day.
Another wave of laughter exploded through the class.
Jiraiya, far from annoyed, winked at her.
“I call it universal love!
Completely different scale of vision!”
The homeroom teacher looked at him for two seconds, offered no comment, jotted something in the roster, and turned the page.
Jiraiya dropped back into his seat, the corner of his mouth still curled.
But the hand resting under his desk clenched, just for a moment.
He’d caught every one of those looks.
Every single one.
No clan.
No surname.
No background.
So what.
He’d prove he wasn’t less than any of them.
The homeroom teacher tapped the desk and flipped to the next page.
“Orochimaru.”
The classroom quieted.
In the corner, the black-haired boy stood up.
His movements were slow.
Not hesitant.
Just unhurried.
He stood at the line between shadow and sunlight, pale face giving nothing away.
Golden, slit-pupil eyes moved across the room.
“Orochimaru.”
His voice wasn’t loud.
But every word landed clean.
“Goal, master every ninjutsu in this world, and understand the true nature of all techniques.”
No extra words.
He sat the moment he finished.
This time, no one laughed.
Not because they were scared.
It was the tone.
Too calm.
Calm enough that it sounded less like an ambition and more like a fact he’d already settled.
The homeroom teacher’s pen paused on the roster for a second.
He gave Orochimaru an extra look, said nothing, and turned the page.
After those two, the atmosphere in the room shifted into something a little strange.
The comfortable sense of normalcy that twenty-plus introductions had built up, those two had quietly dismantled it.
“Tsunade.”
Tsunade stood.
Her golden ponytail swung as she planted both hands on her hips.
“Tsunade.
My grandfather was the First Hokage.
My great-uncle was the Second Hokage.”
She paused, expression completely earnest.
“So I’m going to become an outstanding ninja too.”
The homeroom teacher nodded and moved to turn the page.
Tsunade hadn’t sat down yet.
“Also, ”
Her voice rang out again.
“I’m going to win every last coin from every casino in the ninja world.”
The homeroom teacher’s pen stopped.
The classroom went quiet again.
Different from Orochimaru’s turn.
Orochimaru’s silence had been cold.
This one was just stunned.
Two seconds passed.
A boy in the corner burst out laughing, then slapped a hand over his mouth.
Tsunade’s gaze swung toward him.
He retracted his head.
She sat down, smoothed her hair, perfectly unruffled.
Beside her, Kaede watched.
The corner of his mouth moved, barely.
Win every last coin from every casino in the ninja world.
Given her future gambling career as the “Legendary Sucker,” that was probably the single most delusional goal anyone had stated today.
By a wide margin.
“Kaede Hagoromo.”
Kaede stood.
A few people who recognized the name gave him an extra look, the Hagoromo clan, an old bloodline that had allied with the Senju during the Warring States Period.
Few of them left now, but the roots were still there.
“Kaede Hagoromo.”
His voice was flat.
“Goal, protect the people I cherish.”
Done.
One sentence shorter than even Orochimaru.
He sat down.
No reaction from the room.
Most people filed it alongside “protect Konoha” without much thought.
Not a significant difference, as far as they could tell.
But the homeroom teacher’s pen-holding hand paused.
He glanced at Kaede, lips parting slightly as if he meant to say something.
In the end he just wrote the name in the roster, quietly, and moved on.
In the corner, Orochimaru’s gaze settled on Kaede’s back.
Not “protect Konoha.”
Not “become an outstanding ninja.”
“The people I cherish.”
The scope had narrowed.
From everyone, down to the people he cherished.
At this age, most kids still couldn’t tell the difference between what they should say and what they actually wanted to say.
The twenty-plus before had all given the “should say” answer.
This one had given the “wanted to say” answer.
Orochimaru withdrew his gaze.
His finger tapped the desk once, absently.
A little interesting.
Not much.
Just a little.
Kaede’s seat had barely accepted his weight when a hand reached over from beside him and grabbed his sleeve.
Tsunade tilted her head close, voice dropped low.
“The people you cherish?”
She blinked.
“Who?”
Kaede didn’t look at her.
He fished something from his pocket and set it on the corner of her desk.
A piece of candy.
Tsunade glanced down at it, then back up at him.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Didn’t you bet someone would make a fool of themselves today?”
Tsunade paused.
Kaede tilted his chin toward Jiraiya’s direction.
“You won.
What kind of dango do you want?”
Tsunade’s train of thought jumped the track.
She peeled the wrapper, popped the candy into her mouth, and spoke around it.
“Three-color dango.
Two skewers.
You’re paying.”
“Fine.”
Tsunade chewed, eyes drifting to the window for a moment.
She’d won the bet.
But those words were still sitting somewhere in her head, hadn’t quite left.
The people I cherish.
She couldn’t explain why, exactly.
She just felt like her name ought to be somewhere in that answer.
But he hadn’t said it.
She wanted to ask.
Then decided that asking would make it obvious she cared too much.
Tsunade bit down hard on the candy.
Forget it.
It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.
Jiraiya had his arms propped on the desk, chin resting on the backs of his hands.
He was watching the two of them.
One handing something over, one taking it.
Talking in low voices, off and on.
Every so often Tsunade leaned her head toward him, and the tail of her golden ponytail would brush across the boy’s shoulder.
Jiraiya watched for a few seconds.
He couldn’t quite name what the feeling was.
He glanced away, and happened to meet Orochimaru’s eyes.
The two of them, separated by several seats, held the look for a single instant.
Orochimaru withdrew his gaze without expression, like he’d accidentally noticed a bug on the road.
Jiraiya curled his lip.
This class sure had a lot of weirdos.
…
➤ Next: Practical Training Exercise