The classrooms of the Konoha Ninja Academy were built like lecture halls.
Each row of seats stood slightly higher than the one in front of it, ensuring that every student could clearly see the instructor standing on the raised platform below.
In the original plans, Tobirama had intended to enroll thirty-eight students.
But now that Sora was the one establishing the Academy, several things had changed.
One of those changes was the creation of an—
Elite Class.
Twenty students had been selected.
The youngest was twelve.
The oldest was fifteen.
By the time Sora entered the classroom, all twenty were already seated.
Sora stood alone at the front.
Hashirama remained by the doorway, quietly watching.
Sora rested both hands on his bamboo cane.
“Let’s start with introductions.”
He smiled.
“My name is Hatake Sora.”
“I’m not the strongest shinobi in Konoha…”
“but I am the one who has lived the longest.”
Hiruzen immediately raised his hand.
“Sensei!”
“How old are you?”
Sora looked at him.
“Your grandfather would have to call me Grandpa.”
“Hehe.”
Hiruzen grinned confidently.
“One hundred years old.”
Several students turned toward him.
Hiruzen might appear carefree and impulsive, but he had always been extremely knowledgeable.
He had spent his childhood reading all kinds of records and texts.
His future reputation as the Professor of Ninjutsu wasn’t something that would appear out of nowhere.
The foundation had already been laid while he was young.
He had known Sora’s approximate age before entering the classroom.
He had only asked because— well…
he was still a teenager.
And teenagers liked showing off sometimes.
Most of the twenty students came from major clans.
But surprisingly few had ever paid serious attention to Hatake Sora before.
So when Hiruzen revealed his age— the classroom erupted.
“One hundred?!”
“How can someone live that long?”
“That’s insane!”
“My god…”
Today, Sora wasn’t hunched over.
His silver-white hair was tied back neatly, and his white fitted robe gave him an unusually dignified appearance.
His face was covered in wrinkles.
But his breathing was deep and steady.
His posture was straight.
Nothing about him resembled the frail hundred-year-old man the students had imagined.
To most people in this era, living into one’s seventies or eighties already meant having one foot in the grave.
A hundred-year-old man with this much vitality was almost unheard of.
Sora waited until the noise settled.
“You might think I’m bringing up my age so I can act superior simply because I’m older.”
His smile faded slightly.
“But what I’m about to tell you is the opposite.”
He paused.
His right hand closed around the handle of his bamboo cane.
More precisely— the handle of the blade hidden inside it.
Sora had given the sword a name.
Snow Blade.
Then he spoke.
“The first rule of this Academy—”
“strength decides everything.”
The instant he finished—
SHING!
No one saw his hand move.
No one saw the blade leave its sheath.
Yet the iron lectern beside Sora suddenly split down the middle.
CLANG!
Both halves crashed onto the floor.
The cut was perfectly smooth.
The students froze.
From beginning to end— none of them had seen Sora draw his sword.
The iron lectern had been placed there deliberately when Tobirama arranged the Academy’s furnishings.
Sora had personally requested it for one reason.
To show off.
What he had just performed was a reduced version of—
One-Sword Style Iai: Lion’s Song.
Draw.
Slash.
Resheathe.
Sora’s chakra reserves were currently only around genin level.
But his great dog yōkai bloodline had given him an exceptionally powerful body.
And Zoro’s swordsmanship didn’t depend on chakra in the first place.
It relied upon physical ability, speed, and profound swordsmanship.
Which meant—
Sora could still perform an extraordinarily fast iai strike.
Hashirama naturally saw the entire movement from the doorway.
The students?
Even the genin and several chūnin among them had seen practically nothing.
“What just happened?”
“That was iron!”
“If that had been my body, wouldn’t I have been cut in half?!”
“That was swordsmanship.”
“Extremely advanced swordsmanship.”
“I didn’t even see him move!”
“…”
Several students who had previously been sitting rather casually immediately straightened.
This was a world ruled by strength.
Sora being one hundred years old was surprising.
But his age alone couldn’t pressure these young shinobi.
Strength could.
Nothing commanded attention more effectively than overwhelming ability.
Sora looked across the classroom.
“So don’t worry about my age.”
“And I won’t care which clans stand behind you.”
“If any of you becomes stronger than me and decides you want to be an instructor…”
“I’ll give you the position.”
His eyes swept across the students.
“If you’re strong enough to become principal instead of me—”
“I’ll leave immediately.”
A few students’ eyes lit up.
“But if you aren’t stronger than me…”
Sora smiled.
“Then inside this Academy—”
“what I say goes.”
“If you refuse to listen?”
He tapped his cane lightly against the floor.
“Then I’ll beat you until you do.”
The classroom went silent.
“And if any of you feels wronged and decides to bring your parents or grandparents here to complain…”
Sora turned toward the doorway.
“I’m sure the Hokage will teach them how to behave.”
He smiled.
“Right, Hashirama?”
“…”
Hashirama coughed lightly.
“Sensei Hatake.”
“Please continue your lesson.”
“Talking about beating and killing people will frighten the children.”
He hadn’t agreed.
But he hadn’t denied it either.
That was basically confirmation.
The students became even quieter.
This old principal is violent.
Sora continued as though nothing had happened.
“Second rule.”
“The moment you enter this Academy, you should always be prepared for danger.”
“During class.”
“After class.”
“Anywhere.”
“I may attack any one of you without warning.”
Several expressions changed.
“Your response to unexpected danger will determine whether you receive a reward…”
“or a punishment.”
Sora gestured toward the split iron lectern.
“You all saw that sword technique.”
“That isn’t an inherited Hatake technique.”
“It’s something I developed myself.”
That wasn’t exactly true.
But none of them needed to know that.
“While you’re studying here, if someone performs well enough…”
“I may teach it to them.”
“What?!”
A boy with a short sword strapped across his back immediately became excited.
He specialized in swordsmanship.
Naturally, he understood the value of what Sora had just demonstrated.
Mastering a single technique like that could potentially make a shinobi famous.
Even students who didn’t specialize in swords became excited.
No shinobi complained about possessing too many useful techniques.
Sora thought for a moment.
“There was another rule…”
He frowned.
“Hmm.”
“Forgot it.”
“…”
“We’ll deal with it later.”
Several students nearly fell over.
Sora casually continued,
“For now, introduce yourselves.”
“We’ll start with the first row.”
“Name.”
“What you specialize in.”
“And your dream.”
He smiled.
“If you want to say more, that’s fine too.”
“For example, if there’s some girl in this class you want to marry someday…”
A few students immediately started looking around.
The first boy stood up.
He wore glasses.
“My name is Homura Mitokado.”
“I specialize in ninja tools.”
“My dream is to become a powerful shinobi.”
He sat down.
Hiruzen immediately stood.
“My turn!”
“I’m Sarutobi Hiruzen.”
“I’m good at ninjutsu and taijutsu.”
He grinned confidently.
“And unless something unexpected happens…”
“I’m probably the strongest student in this class.”
Several people instantly looked annoyed.
Hiruzen ignored them.
“My dream is…”
He glanced toward one of the girls.
“I want to marry Biwako!”
The classroom erupted.
The girl’s face immediately turned slightly red.
Hiruzen laughed.
“Hahaha!”
“And I’m going to become Hokage!”
He sat down triumphantly.
The boy beside him immediately stood.
“My name is Shimura Danzō.”
“I specialize in Wind Release.”
His eyes shifted toward Hiruzen.
“I also intend to become Hokage.”
Then he added without hesitation,
“And I believe I’m stronger than Hiruzen.”
Hiruzen’s eyebrow twitched.
The next student stood somewhat nervously.
“I-I’m Sarutobi Biwako.”
“I specialize in Fire Release.”
“My goal is to become an elite jōnin.”
Another student rose.
“I’m Uchiha Kagami…”
Then another.
“I’m Nara Shikakin…”
Another.
“I’m Akimichi Torifu…”
Another.
“I’m Hyūga Nichijin…”
One student after another introduced themselves.
Sora listened from the front of the classroom.
And gradually— only one word remained in his mind.
Geniuses.
The future Third Hokage.
The future elders Homura and Koharu.
The future leader of Root—
Danzō.
Uchiha Kagami.
Akimichi Torifu.
And if history unfolded naturally, several of the other teenagers sitting here would probably become future clan heads and pillars of Konoha as well.
Sora looked over the classroom filled with young faces.
What an absurd generation.
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