The shockwaves from Kakashi’s early graduation hit far harder than anyone had anticipated.
Like a massive boulder hurled into a tranquil lake, the ripples sent the entire Ninja Academy into a fever pitch.
Kakashi’s classmates took it relatively well, having already witnessed his monstrous ability firsthand.
The students in the other grades, however, took it as a personal affront.
The upperclassmen took it hardest of all.
They had been trudging through their curriculum by the book, only to watch an arrogant, white-haired brat pass the official graduation exam and tie on a real forehead protector.
To the clan prodigies who held themselves in high esteem, Kakashi’s success was nothing short of a silent slap in the face.
The very next day, several students followed suit and submitted their own applications for early graduation.
Once someone broke the ice, copycats sprouted like bamboo shoots after a spring rain.
In no time at all, the faculty office was besieged by students clutching forms, every single face plastered with unwarranted confidence: *If he can do it, so can I!*
Slumped over his desk, Obito listened to Rin and her friends chattering excitedly about Kakashi.
Remembering the starry-eyed look on Rin’s face when she had looked at that masked show-off, blood rushed straight to his head.
“I’m graduating early too!”
Obito slammed both hands down onto his desk, the eyes behind his goggles blazing with fiery resolve.
The sudden crash drew every eye in the classroom.
Basking in the spotlight, Obito sprang up and jabbed a thumb at his chest.
“If Kakashi could pull it off, then an elite of the Uchiha clan like me can definitely do it too!”
“Obito, you haven’t even mastered the basic Clone Technique yet…” Rin whispered timidly from the side, genuine worry written across her face.
“That was just a fluke!
I’ll pass for sure this time!”
Drunk on pure adrenaline, Obito was utterly immune to reason.
*Tsk, tsk, tsk.*
Aoba glanced up at the idiot.
Even after sharing a classroom with him for over a year, he still found it hard to believe this clown would eventually become one of the shinobi world’s ultimate bosses.
One had to admit: the Second Hokage’s research on the Uchiha really was remarkably accurate.
When Obito slapped his application onto Araki’s desk, the teacher merely eyed him with deadpan indifference.
“Have you thought this through?” Araki asked coolly.
“Y-Yeah.
Completely.” Obito strained to keep his expression firm.
In truth, once he had stepped through the faculty room door, the cool air had helped his runaway temper regain a shred of sense.
But remembering the grand declaration he had made in front of the entire class, he couldn’t bear the shame of tucking his tail between his legs and scurrying back.
He had no choice but to bite the bullet and shove the paper forward.
“Very well.” Araki scanned the form, gave a curt nod, and slipped it into a folder.
*Wait…
that’s it?*
Obito blinked, bewildered.
He had fully expected Araki to throw the application right back in his face.
He never dreamed the teacher would accept it so readily.
“Is there anything else?”
“N-No, sir.”
“Then return to class.
You will be notified ahead of your scheduled evaluation.”
“…Understood.
Thank you, sensei.”
One week later, the Academy held a special evaluation for all the applicants.
Reality promptly delivered a stinging slap to everyone involved.
The very first round—the written theory exam—weeded out more than half of the contenders.
Obito Uchiha was among the first casualties.
The papers were graded on the spot.
Outside the examination hall, Obito stared at his score sheet with bloodshot eyes.
A gruesome twenty points.
He hadn’t even managed half of a passing grade.
“Why is there math and physics on a ninja exam?!
Aren’t shinobi just supposed to know ninjutsu?!” Obito wailed outside the hall, his mournful shrieks sending passing stray dogs scurrying in terror.
Though Obito was eliminated in the first round, the survivors fared no better in the subsequent stages.
The final result was a total wipeout.
Early graduation was far more demanding than standard graduation.
Normal graduates were assigned to seasoned chunin or jonin squad leaders, and anyone unfit for duty could be remanded back to the Academy for remedial studies.
Early graduates had to prove they were already capable of independent survival.
A cold dose of reality thoroughly doused the hotheaded brats.
Obito, having placed dead last on the written test, was hauled into Araki’s office and chewed out for half the afternoon.
Following the debacle, Kakashi Hatake’s reputation as a prodigy was no longer confined to his peers.
Carried on the wind, his name echoed across all of Konoha.
A genius who graduated at five years old was simply too dazzling, even as a humble genin.
His name shone brightly enough to catch the attention of foreign intelligence networks, earning him a swift update on several villages’ assassination lists.
For Aoba, however, the real nuisance was only just beginning.
“Aoba, come up front and demonstrate the Substitution Technique for the class.”
Standing at the podium, Araki turned his gaze toward him.
Aoba sighed inwardly.
He rose from his seat, stepped forward, and wove hand seals with practiced indifference.
*Poof!*
A plume of white smoke erupted, and Aoba vanished from the spot, leaving an outer jacket tumbling onto the desk.
Applause and gasps rippled through the room.
“Hey!
That jacket looks familiar…” Obito narrowed his eyes, then suddenly felt a draft across his shoulders.
The realization hit him like a lightning bolt.
“Gaaah!
You bastard, Aoba!
That’s my jacket!”
The class roared with laughter as Obito fumed, stomping forward to snatch his clothes back.
“Whoa, so cool!
I never paid attention before, but Aoba’s amazing!”
“He always looks so half-asleep, but his skills are insane.”
“Hey, when do you think he’s going to apply to graduate early?”
The whispers were neither loud nor quiet, drifting straight into Aoba’s ears.
He returned to his seat and propped his chin on his hand, staring blankly at the podium, entirely deaf to the idle chatter.
*What a pain…*
He hated being dragged up for demonstrations; it made him feel like a trained monkey performing tricks.
Fortunately, the monotonous routine did not last much longer.
A few days later, a fresh notice appeared on the bulletin board.
“Battlefield First Aid and Basic Medical Ninjutsu Course?”
Standing before the board, Aoba’s eyes gleamed behind his sunglasses.
According to the announcement, the village had decided to select a batch of Academy students with medical aptitude to form a special pilot class in response to mounting tensions along the borders.
The course would be taught directly by senior medical ninja from Konoha Hospital.
“Tch, that’s girls’ stuff.”
“Right?
Real shinobi charge the front lines!”
Listening to the childish sneers around him, Aoba stroked his chin, the corners of his mouth tugging upward into a subtle smirk.
*Medical ninjutsu…
Here’s the opening I’ve been waiting for.*
He had endured three long years of Academy boredom precisely for an opportunity like this: a completely legitimate gateway into the village’s medical apparatus.
On a squad, medical ninja served as rear-guard logistics.
They didn’t need to throw themselves into the meat grinder like assault types, making their survival rate exceptionally high.
Naturally, that was only a secondary benefit.
The real prize was gaining valid clearance to enter Konoha Hospital or the Medical Corps, granting him direct access to wounded shinobi and bloodline limit wielders.
That access would be invaluable for his research into chakra nature transformations and kekkei genkai.
Otherwise, a civilian orphan trying to stockpile medicinal herbs and surgical equipment would immediately trip alarms with Anbu surveillance.
As for the notion of secretly digging out an underground laboratory beneath one’s house and slapping down a barrier seal—that kind of nonsense belonged in cheap fiction that insulted the reader’s basic intelligence.