Early in the morning, sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the notice board in front of the Konoha Ninja Academy.
A dense crowd gathered around, stretching their necks to search for their names.
Today was graduation assignment day, which determined who they would fight alongside for the coming years and which Jonin would guide them.
To a large extent, this dictated the starting point of their ninja careers.
“I’m in Team 3!
Our squad leader is Senior Aoba Yamashiro!”
“Awesome, I’m in Master Joichi Suzumiya’s team!”
“Team 8…
Master Yuen Yuhi!
That’s great!”
Cheers and sighs echoed off one another in continuous waves.
Ryuha Uchiha stood alone on the outer edge of the crowd, leaning back against a large tree.
Quietly, he flipped through the newly claimed C-rank ninjutsu scroll in his hands: *Detailed Explanation of Wind Style: Great Breakthrough*.
He paid no mind to the surrounding commotion, his gaze behind his glasses remaining focused and calm.
Just then, a wave of blood-boiling shouts erupted nearby.
The thick aura of youth surged forward.
At six o’clock in the morning in Konoha, two bizarre ninja wearing green jumpsuits happened to run past the Ninja Academy.
One adult and one child, both equipped with Bushy Brows and dressed in green suits, were currently running laps around Konoha Village.
“When the new leaves sprout and the new spring arrives, that is when Youth burns at its hottest!”
“Can you feel the Youth, Guy?!”
The two looked as if they had been pressed from the exact same mold, save for the mustache on the elder man.
The skin-tight jumpsuits accentuated the vivid spirit of Youth.
Hearing his father’s roaring cry, Might Guy seemed completely infected by the energy, bellowing back with even greater passion.
“Poured sweat is the true proof of Youth!” Reaching the peak of emotion, Might Guy wept tears of Youth.
After exchanging a brief glance with Might Duy—the man who would nearly wipe out the Seven Ninja Swordsmen with the Eight Gates—Ryuha Uchiha retracted his gaze.
*The Eight Gates and burning Youth…*
In the upcoming Third Great Ninja War, when faced with Kirigakure’s Seven Ninja Swordsmen, Might Duy, as a father, would directly open the Gate of Death to cover Guy’s retreat, instantly killing four Jonin-level elites among them.
As he pondered, a voice resounded from the crowd, bearing unmistakable surprise:
“Ryuha Uchiha…
Team 7?!”
The surrounding murmurs suddenly quieted down a notch, as countless glances subtly drifted toward Ryuha.
“Team 7?
Isn’t that…”
“The team leader is Senior Ryuichi Matsumoto, right?
Just an average Jonin.”
“His teammates seem to be commoner ninja with zero background.”
“Tsk, guess showing off during yesterday’s evaluation was useless after all.
Looks like a ‘mutated Kekkei Genkai’ isn’t favored.”
“I heard the higher-ups think that ability is unstable with limited practical value—not nearly as good as solid foundational ninjutsu.”
“So what if he’s an Uchiha genius?
He still got demoted to a commoner team!”
Whispers buzzed like flies, tinged with petty gloating.
*See?
Even if you stole the spotlight yesterday, aren’t you stuck just like the rest of us today, if not worse?*
Ryuha Uchiha closed the scroll and pushed up his glasses, his expression unruffled.
*Team 7, huh?*
He recalled the information he had gathered from the clan’s intelligence channels the night before:
Ryuichi Matsumoto, thirty-seven years old, commoner origin.
Relying on solid fundamentals and accumulating countless C-rank and B-rank missions, he had been promoted to Jonin five years ago.
His strength sat at the mid-to-lower tier among Jonin.
He possessed no special Kekkei Genkai, no signature ninjutsu, held a rigid and stern personality, placed high value on basics, and despised “flashy, useless” geniuses.
A textbook mediocre Jonin.
His merit was that he was “safe”—in the upcoming Ninja War, the village likely wouldn’t assign his squad high-risk missions.
As for his teammates…
Ryuha’s eyes swept across the notice board.
Kazuya Haruno, twelve years old, commoner.
Above average in theory, unremarkable in practical combat.
Average chakra pool, no special talent.
Itsuki Fujiwara, twelve years old, commoner.
Slightly better in taijutsu, honest and straightforward, average talent in ninjutsu.
A classic background filler lineup.
It seemed the Third Hokage and the Konoha higher-ups held a considerable amount of vigilance and…
restriction toward his suddenly surfaced “mutated Kekkei Genkai.”
Instead of putting him in a team with clan backgrounds or assigning him to a renowned Jonin, they threw him into Team 7, surrounded by commoners and led by a mediocre Jonin.
Ostensibly to “temper his character,” but in reality, to “observe and control.”
A faint, almost imperceptible curl formed at the corner of Ryuha Uchiha’s mouth.
*This works out fine, too.*
A mediocre teacher and ordinary teammates meant less scrutiny and more freedom.
For what he planned to do next, it was actually far more convenient.
“Ryuha-kun.”
A timid voice sounded beside him.
Ryuha turned to see a boy with short brown hair and a few freckles on his face standing nearby, nervously rubbing his hands together.
Beside him stood a stockily built, black-haired boy with thick eyebrows and large eyes.
It was Kazuya Haruno and Itsuki Fujiwara.
“I’m Kazuya Haruno, and this is Itsuki Fujiwara,” the freckled boy—Kazuya Haruno—squeezed out a tense smile.
“We’re…
we’re your teammates in Team 7.
The instructor told us to gather at Training Ground 3.”
“Oh,” Ryuha nodded, putting away his scroll.
“Lead the way.”
His demeanor was understated, devoid of excessive warmth, as indifferent as commenting on the weather.
Kazuya Haruno and Itsuki Fujiwara exchanged a look, both feeling somewhat uneasy.
On the assessment ground yesterday, Ryuha’s performance had been overwhelming.
The effortless manner in which he drove Setsuna Uchiha into madness made them instinctively fearful.
They had assumed a genius like him would be arrogant, but…
*He actually seems quite easy to talk to?*
The three walked in silence toward Training Ground 3.
Along the way, Kazuya wanted to strike up a conversation several times, but seeing Ryuha’s unapproachable, serene profile, he swallowed his words back down.
The training ground was ordinary, even somewhat dilapidated.
The paint on the wooden posts was flaking, and many target boards were damaged.
A middle-aged man wearing a standard Jonin flak jacket stood in the center of the field with his hands tucked behind his back.
Ryuichi Matsumoto.
He looked as unremarkable as his resume: medium build, square jaw, thin tightly pressed lips, and deep crow’s feet near his eyes.
His eyes were as sharp as blades, casting a critical, scrutinizing glare over them as they arrived.
Upon seeing the three approach, Ryuichi Matsumoto’s eyes first landed on Kazuya Haruno and Itsuki Fujiwara, giving a brief nod.
But when his gaze shifted to Ryuha, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
An Uchiha.
Worse, an Uchiha who had awakened an unknown Kekkei Genkai.
Troublesome.
A wave of annoyance rose in Ryuichi’s chest.
What he hated most were these so-called “geniuses” who relied on bloodline talents and paid no attention to the basics, spending all day chasing flashy, impractical “ultimate moves.”
He had read yesterday’s assessment report.
“Controlling five senses”?
“Hand-seal-less genjutsu”?
Nothing but empty tricks.
A true ninja relied on solid taijutsu, accurate shurikenjutsu, stable chakra control, and the experience forged through countless missions.
Not these nonsensical, unproven abilities.