The grueling physical conditioning circuit was scheduled for the afternoon; the morning hours were occupied by a lecture on The History of Konoha.
“Today’s topic covers the prestigious record of the Third Hokage-sama,” Yamamoto-sensei announced from the podium.
“Please focus your absolute concentration on this lecture.
This entire chapter serves as the core foundation for the upcoming term exams—it is guaranteed to be tested.” Hanekawa casually propped his copy of The History of Konoha vertically on his desk.
This classic school yard maneuver effectively blocked the teacher’s line of sight from the front podium.
To ensure he locked down the first-place rank required for the Top of the Class trait, Hanekawa had already thoroughly processed the vast majority of the textbook data at home; there was zero point in listening to a standard, step-by-step recitation.
Furthermore, given his flawless academic records and exceptional growth trajectory over the past weeks, Yamamoto-sensei would selectively look the other way even if he noticed the discrepancy.
“The Third Hokage-sama hails from the distinguished Sarutobi clan and serves as our current active Hokage.
Under his enlightened governance, Konohagakure has truly entered a flourishing, golden era of prosperity.” The moment Yamamoto-sensei mentioned the Sarutobi clan, his gaze subconsciously drifted toward Asuma Sarutobi.
Naturally, the vast majority of the students mirrored the teacher’s look.
Asuma pouted sullenly.
Although his relationship with Hiruzen had softened slightly after the old man personally coached him through Genjutsu Dissipation drills, the look of collective awe and expectation from his peers still rubbed his fierce pride the wrong way.
He desperately wanted people to hear his name and immediately think of Asuma Sarutobi, the individual—not just the son of the Hokage.
“The Third Hokage-sama was the prized, personal disciple of the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, and possesses a flawless mastery over every single recorded ninjutsu within the Leaf’s archives,” Yamamoto-sensei droned on enthusiastically.
“The international community recognizes his legendary status through many revered titles: The Strongest Hokage, The Professor of Shinobi, The God of Shinobi…” Dozens of young students looked on with starry-eyed admiration and awe.
Right, right, standard propaganda handbook, Hanekawa internally chuckled, casually pulling out an advanced mathematics workbook to solve equations.
Whether he could secure the number one academic rank rested entirely on his ability to accurately calculate projectile mechanics and wind resistance formulas.
The historical fluff didn’t matter.
The morning sessions finally drew to a close, ushering in the noon recess.
Asuma slammed his textbook shut and exhaled a heavy breath.
That old man is honestly shameless.
The entire chapter is just a massive wall of glowing self-praise.
Disgusting!
In the future, when he inevitably ascended to the Hokage’s seat, he would definitely…
scale the propaganda even harder.
Asuma shook off his thoughts, turned his head, and instantly froze.
Kurenai had already grabbed her bento box and was happily running toward Hanekawa’s desk in the back row.
His face completely stiffened.
That villainous Hanekawa kid again!
I can’t tolerate this any longer!
Time to go all out!
“Hanekawa,” Asuma marched straight to the back row, slamming a hand down onto the desk.
“I challenge you to a rematch!” Kurenai blinked, looking up at him with a mix of surprise and pure amusement.
In her calculation, given how spectacularly Asuma had face-planted during their previous encounter, he was nowhere near Hanekawa’s league.
Forcing a rematch would yield the exact same embarrassing result.
“I am completely different from the guy I was two weeks ago!” Asuma barked defensively, instantly picking up on her skeptical expression.
Whoa, calm down, buddy.
Why are you shouting?
Hanekawa thought, casually opening his container.
He offered a calm response, “We have a practical combat field training scheduled in a couple of days.” Sparring during designated school hours was highly efficient; it didn’t drain a single second of his private training blocks.
“Deal!” Seeing him accept so smoothly, Asuma’s spirit violently soared, his face bursting with supreme confidence.
“This time, victory is absolutely guaranteed!” Over the past fortnight, he hadn’t merely mastered the underlying theory of Genjutsu Dissipation; he had relentlessly trained with elite, adult illusionists to refine his muscle memory.
How could he possibly lose?
Could Hanekawa instant-kill him?
Impossible!
He would thoroughly dominate the schoolyard clearing, forcing the entire Academy assembly to rise to their feet and cheer his name.
“Good luck,” Hanekawa offered a flawless, gentle smile.
“…” Asuma choked slightly, his aggressive posture momentarily stalling.
Hanekawa’s polite, composed demeanor made his own hot-headed entrance look incredibly abrasive and petty.
Just as a wave of minor guilt began to wash over him, he caught sight of Kurenai’s reaction—she was practically staring at Hanekawa with starry eyes while looking at him with deep annoyance.
You tactical villain!
Asuma internally wailed.
He realized his standing in Kurenai’s books was hitting a historic low.
Was Hanekawa performing these psychological plays intentionally, or was he just naturally this smooth?
Gritting his teeth, Asuma whipped around and stormed back to his desk.
Explanations were completely unviable at this stage; his sole tactical vector to salvage his reputation was to thoroughly crush the kid on the battlefield.
“Let’s eat,” Hanekawa said, casually handing Kurenai a pair of chopsticks.
“Are you completely certain you can handle him?” Kurenai asked, deftly snapping up a piece of fried shrimp from her bento.
“He is the Hokage’s son, after all.
He must have secured an elite operational hard-counter against Genjutsu over the break.” “I am fully aware,” Hanekawa nodded calmly.
For this specific rematch, he had already resolved to utilize a completely different mechanical blueprint to secure victory.
“Awesome.” Kurenai immediately relaxed, her absolute trust locked in.
A short distance away, Rin Nohara glided open three neatly packed bento containers.
Snapping up a pair of chopsticks, she offered the first selection to Obito.
“Thank you so much, Rin!” Obito beamed ecstatically, throwing a smug, triumphant smirk toward Kakashi.
But he discovered the white-haired prodigy wasn’t even looking at him.
Following Kakashi’s intense line of sight across the classroom, Obito’s focus landed squarely on Hanekawa.
He couldn’t help but huff loudly, “The kid just rode a wave of raw novice luck to clip Asuma during a fluke encounter.
It doesn’t mean anything.” As a proud scion of the Uchiha, his lineage held a deep-seated structural disdain for ordinary, non-Sharingan illusionists.
“Could you replicate that ‘novice luck’ to dismantle Asuma?” Kakashi asked flatly, taking his chopsticks from Rin without a shred of emotion.
“Of course I could!” Obito snapped, his face flushing bright red.
“If my fire jutsu hadn’t experienced a minor casting delay last week, Asuma would have been history!” “In a real combat scenario, speculative conditional theories don’t exist,” Kakashi thrown a freezing look over his shoulder.
“A defeat is a total defeat; a victory is a total victory.” “You arrogant bastard!” Obito’s torso violently shook with rage.
“Obito, look,” Rin quickly stepped into her standard mediator role, gently tugging at his jacket sleeve while offering a warm, sweet smile.
“Try this tempura I fried this morning.
Let me know how the texture holds up.” “Wow!
Anything Rin cooks is automatically a top-tier, five-star masterpiece!” Obito’s rage instantly dissolved, his face melting back into a dopey grin.
The noon recess evaporated, and the period for the highly anticipated physical conditioning circuit arrived.
“One hundred high-velocity laps around the main training track!
Begin!” Yamamoto-sensei announced, slamming his stopwatch down at the starting line.
The entire assembly of students surged forward like an arrow.
Leading the vanguard was none other than Obito Uchiha.
He aggressively dumped his stamina pool right at the threshold to seize the initial lead, constantly executing awkward, over-the-shoulder glances to track whether Rin was marveling at his velocity.
“Brainless idiot,” Kakashi muttered flatly, smoothly accelerating past him.
Rin, pulling up behind them, could only let out a helpless, weary sigh.
Who on earth launches into a maximum-velocity sprint right at the starting line of a long-distance endurance test?
Hanekawa maintained a perfectly calculated respiratory rhythm, pulling into a steady, synchronized pace alongside Kurenai.
As the laps systematically bled away, the massive structural gap in physical conditioning began to manifest.
Obito completely bottomed out his stamina reserve first, rapidly sliding down the ranks until he occupied the absolute dead-last spot on the track.
Occupying the extreme vanguard were Kakashi and Guy, their strides perfectly locked in a fierce, high-speed duel.
Hanekawa, Kurenai, and Asuma formed the solid secondary pursuit vanguard.
By the time they cleared the ninetieth lap, the tactical landscape shifted once more.
Asuma watched with utter disbelief as Hanekawa’s shadow glided smoothly past his shoulder.
He desperately wanted to push his pace to contest the position, but his muscles refused to fire; his running posture had already completely broken down into an uncoordinated crawl.
Kakashi glanced back at the shadow tracking relentlessly behind his heels, his brow furrowing into a tight knot.
He distinctly recalled that during the previous endurance evaluation, Hanekawa hadn’t merely failed to contest the top ranks—he hadn’t even cleared the margins of the top ten leaderboard.
Now, the transfer student was running neck-and-neck alongside him?
He could clearly hear the sound of Hanekawa’s breathing.
It was heavy and slightly strained, but exceptionally rhythmic and structured.
Kakashi’s expression turned entirely grim as he forced extra leverage into his strides.
Approaching the final lap, the absolute vast majority of the students had completely collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily as they watched the track.
The only three individuals maintaining their running momentum were Kakashi, Guy, and Hanekawa.
“What kind of abnormal monster is this guy?!” Kakashi internally growled, his own chest heaving violently as his calculated rhythm began to fracture under the immense strain.
Every single time he estimated that Hanekawa’s physical limits had bottomed out, the boy’s body would magically experience a micro-recovery, allows him to sustain the output.
Am I going to suffer a physical defeat here?
Kakashi gritted his teeth.
While he didn’t indulge in Guy’s level of specialized Taijutsu training, his daily sword drills demanded a massive baseline of physical conditioning.
Combined with his innate prodigy genes, his raw physical durability easily outperformed the vast majority of active Genin out in the field.
Clenching his fists, Kakashi squeezed the absolute last drop of raw energy from his thighs, launching into a desperate terminal sprint.
“Behold!
This is the peak fire of absolute youth!” Guy roared, his entire torso violently shaking with pure adrenaline as he witnessed the fierce, three-way sprint to the finish line.
Hanekawa’s lips twitched subtly at the booming shout.
But…
a flawless tactical window!
Time to pull the trigger!
Entering the final stretch of the track, he completely unlocked his remaining stamina pool, launching into a maximum-velocity explosion of raw speed.