Following the teacher’s self-introduction came the turn for the students to take the podium and introduce themselves.
The first to step up was a white-haired boy wearing a black mask.
“My name is Kakashi Hatake.
I hate troublesome things, enjoy sparring with the strong, and my dream is to become a shinobi like my father.”
Though reality differed somewhat from anime, certain personal traits were unmistakable.
The moment Kakashi walked up, Aoba recognized him instantly.
The Kakashi of today did not yet have the dead-fish eyes of his older self, but he still wore an aloof expression, casually delivering the most provocative lines in the most laid-back tone.
“That’s Kakashi, the guy who took first place in the entrance exam.”
“Sparring with the strong?
What an arrogant jerk.”
“Tch, cocky bastard!”
“Way to steal the spotlight!”
Murmurs immediately broke out across the classroom after Kakashi finished speaking.
Some were annoyed, others smitten.
The girls in particular buzzed with excitement—naturally, the top-ranking student commanded plenty of attention.
With Kakashi setting the tone, the subsequent introductions carried considerable momentum.
Aside from the two supplementary admissions, everyone else had made it into Class 1 based on stellar entrance scores, and none considered themselves inferior to Kakashi.
When it came to their dreams, they pulled no punches—declaring they would either become the Hokage or surpass the Hokage.
For instance, Asuma, the Hokage’s son, declared his goal was to defeat the current Hokage and become the strongest shinobi in the ninja world.
Hearing Asuma’s dream, even Ishihara-sensei’s lips twitched slightly.
Fortunately, everyone else’s ambitions fell within a “normal” range, and no further outrageous declarations followed.
Soon, it was Aoba’s turn to take the stage.
“Hello, everyone.
My name is Aoba Yamashiro.
My hobby is culinary research, and my dream is to take early retirement so I can travel across the ninja world, gather rare ingredients, and cook delicious food.”
Compared to his peers’ grand ambitions, Aoba’s sounded utterly mundane.
After all, kids at this age were fiercely competitive, and those accepted into the elite class held their heads exceptionally high.
“Hahaha, cooking?”
“This guy wants to be a chef?”
Aoba’s words drew laughter and sneers from several classmates, but he couldn’t care less.
Araki Ishihara watched Aoba Yamashiro walk down from the podium, Aoba’s profile surfacing in his mind.
A student specially enrolled by the Hokage without taking the entrance exam surely possessed extraordinary talent in his eyes, making Aoba one of his primary targets of observation.
*From the looks of it, this kid’s mindset is a bit troubled.
He doesn’t seem motivated in the slightest.*
Once the final student wrapped up their introduction, the class began their very first lesson at the Ninja Academy: *The First Hokage and the Will of Fire*.
Aoba leafed through the textbook.
Its contents mirrored what the Third Hokage had preached at the opening ceremony, and the compiler listed on the cover was none other than the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Political indoctrination classes were dreadfully dull, especially to someone like Aoba whose worldview had long since solidified; it was like playing a lute to a cow.
If the Third Hokage’s goal in sending him to the Academy was to steep him in the Will of Fire, he had wasted his breath.
Even so, keeping up appearances was necessary.
Aoba put himself on “system autopilot.” While his body sat quietly, appearing to listen, another interface materialized before his eyes, streaming a flood of diagrams and data.
*System, retrieve the Chakra Extraction Technique.*
Immediately, a deluge of chakra-related data was projected, accompanied by a 3D holographic rendering of human bodily meridians.
The auxiliary chip projected this information directly onto his retinas.
A close look into his eyes would have revealed strange shifts in his pupils, but wearing sunglasses constantly concealed any anomalies with perfection.
Chakra extraction was the process of drawing physical energy cell by cell from the 130 trillion cells of the human body and combining it with spiritual energy to synthesize a supernatural power.
Whether other people possessed 130 trillion cells, Aoba didn’t know, but he certainly didn’t have that many right now.
Still, even without that full amount, he had far more than in his previous life—roughly sixty to seventy trillion, with the number climbing each day.
Were it not for his internal organs and limbs matching human anatomy from his past life, Aoba would have wondered if the inhabitants of the Naruto world were truly living humans, or if they were the “plant-people” theorized by netizen commentators back home.
Now that he had entered the Academy, chakra extraction was an unavoidable step.
The length of one’s mana bar dictated both firepower and volume.
However, before the body had fully matured, squeezing energy out of one’s cells was tantamount to overdrawing future potential.
*Is it possible to extract from localized cells, like specific body tissues?*
*…Excess body fat?*
*Or convert it directly from food intake?*
*…*
*Sigh~ Still not enough data.*
*My biology knowledge from my previous life is just too rudimentary.
It wasn’t my field at all, and relying purely on the chip’s analytical simulations is too much of a stretch.*
Previous experience could serve as a reference, but copying it wholesale was out of the question.
Leaving aside the biological quirks of the shinobi world’s inhabitants, chakra itself belonged to a completely different technological and scientific tree.
*I still need to establish a connection with the Konoha Hospital as soon as possible.*
Morning classes soon drew to a close.
Closing the projected data, Aoba exhaled softly and wiped away nonexistent sweat from his brow.
His chakra reserves were simply too meager.
Running the auxiliary chip at full power on his current chakra pool lasted an hour or two at best.
The moment Teacher Araki Ishihara stepped out of the room, a collective groan echoed through the classroom.
After all, pure theory—especially political dogma—was something few enjoyed listening to, let alone a roomful of restless children.
Moreover, this would likely continue for quite a while.
If they hadn’t even mastered the *Will of Fire*, dreaming of learning ninjutsu was pure delusion.
At this point, Aoba understood why the Third Hokage had assigned Ishihara here; anyone else probably wouldn’t have been able to keep these bratty prodigies in line.
Over the next decade or two, the backbone of Konoha would largely originate from this very class, with the subsequent wave waiting until the official canon timeline with the Konoha 12.
The afternoon was reserved for practical activity classes.
Aoba checked the time.
It was about lunch hour.
He nudged Kurenai, who was burying her face in her arms to rest.
“Kurenai, eat your bento before taking a nap, okay?”
“O-Okay…”
Kurenai struggled to lift her dazed head.
Day one—no, just one morning—had shattered her rosy illusions about the Ninja Academy.
It wasn’t like she had envisioned at all…
Watching Kurenai question her life choices, Aoba let out a small smirk and retrieved the bento boxes Aunt Nadeshiko had packed that morning.
The savory aroma quickly caught Kurenai’s attention.
“It’s my favorite—salt-grilled chicken wings!”
Her eyes instantly lit up.
Just as the two were about to dig in, an ill-timed voice piped up nearby.
“Hey, chef.”
A few boys sauntered over to Aoba’s desk, led by a somewhat chubby boy.
“Hm?”
Aoba looked up in mild surprise at the slightly arrogant chubby kid before him.
*Is that supposed to be a nickname?*
While Aoba paused in thought, Kurenai sprang to her feet beside him, glaring at the group.
“Hey!
What do you guys want?”
“Whoa, red eyes?
That’s so weird!”
“You think she’s got pinkeye or something?”
“No way, pinkeye turns the whole eyeball red.
Hers aren’t like that.”
The boys chattered among themselves, completely ignoring her glare.
Aoba stroked his chin.
It finally dawned on him—he seemed to have run into some good old-fashioned schoolyard bullying.