Keisuke Shimizu strode to the front of the classroom.
His sharp eyes swept over every student below, like an eagle surveying its territory.
Then he spoke loudly.
“The opponents you faced today will generally remain your opponents for practical assessments throughout the next six years.
Of course, exchanges may occur under special circumstances.”
He paused before continuing.
“That said, Kakashi Hatake performed exceptionally well.
As expected of the son of Lord White Fang!
Asuma Sarutobi also performed admirably and did not bring shame upon the Third Hokage.”
When those eagle-sharp eyes settled on Kakashi and Asuma, the warmth that suddenly appeared in them left Yakumo momentarily dumbfounded.
Wow.
He’s already sucking up to the powerful.
The moment Shimizu’s gaze shifted to Yakumo, however, the bitter cold of winter returned.
“Some of you performed very poorly, and I’m extremely dissatisfied with your results.
Your scores on this combat assessment will affect your final grades at the end of the first year!”
“I hope those of you who performed badly will do better next time.
Otherwise, you can forget about advancing to the second year!”
“Class dismissed!”
Keisuke Shimizu strode out of the classroom.
The oppressive atmosphere gradually dissipated, and the students gathered around Kakashi as they filed out.
His reputation as a genius, combined with his cool and aloof demeanor, made him a natural magnet for admirers and eager followers.
But one day, they would all realize that Kakashi Hatake was a man they could never hope to win over.
After all, his life already belonged to the God of Fifty-Fifty.
“Let’s go.”
Yakumo turned toward his little follower and complimentary meal ticket, Mori Yasuko.
Honestly…
who didn’t have a little admirer of their own?
As they walked home, Yakumo silently reflected on the day’s events.
When their homeroom teacher had been praising Kakashi, he had mentioned White Fang first, followed by the Third Hokage.
The fact that members of the great shinobi clans were also actively trying to befriend Kakashi made one thing abundantly clear: Konoha’s White Fang, who had helped secure victory in the Second Shinobi World War through his own extraordinary strength, must have enjoyed tremendous prestige.
The father had fought bravely on the battlefield, becoming a nightmare to other nations and striking fear into his enemies.
Meanwhile, his son was sweeping aside his contemporaries at home, possessing talent that might even surpass his father’s.
And somehow, both of them had come from the Hatake clan.
Throughout history, people who displayed too much brilliance had generally met one of two fates: they either continued advancing until they reached heights beyond the world’s grasp, or they died because those in power had schemed against them.
Fortunately, none of that had anything to do with Yakumo.
All he needed to do was stay away from the center of the storm.
After all, he was just an inconspicuous nobody with pitifully weak abilities.
He wasn’t worth exploiting.
“Would you like to train together today?” Mori Yasuko asked hopefully when they reached the entrance.
“Definitely next time.”
Yakumo pushed open his front door and stepped inside.
His expression shifted from indifference to alertness, then returned to its usual calm within an instant.
Someone had been inside his house.
Although the intruder had done their best to put everything back where it belonged, subtle differences remained.
Yakumo walked forward and opened a drawer.
The more than two million ryo in compensation money were still there, untouched.
He immediately understood that the intruder hadn’t come for money.
He had encountered Kushina Uzumaki that morning, and by noon, his house had been thoroughly searched.
Was this how seriously Konoha’s higher-ups took the security of the Nine-Tails’ jinchūriki?
A person raising a dangerous beast would naturally worry about someone else getting close to it and using it to cause catastrophic damage.
I hope that document proves useful.
It would be a shame if the eight hundred words of flattery I slipped in about Hiruzen Sarutobi had all been for nothing.
Yakumo casually tossed his schoolbag onto the table and began preparing dinner.
Half an hour later, a steaming pot of chicken curry was ready.
After eating, Yakumo went into the courtyard and began practicing ninjutsu according to his parents’ notes.
Forming hand seals, manipulating chakra, and releasing it—all the steps proceeded smoothly.
One water sphere after another took shape in his palm, only to burst into splashes before he could launch them.
Learning ninjutsu was proving much more difficult than he had expected.
Two hours later, his chakra was completely depleted.
He mixed the remaining chicken curry with rice and ate it before switching on his desk lamp to write a summary and analysis of chakra extraction.
Two hours after that, he submitted the mission.
His Intelligence increased once again, and several new ideas about practicing Water Bullet emerged in his mind.
After learning the Chakra Extraction Technique, his body had begun replenishing its depleted chakra naturally, even when he wasn’t deliberately training.
Under the moonlight, Yakumo returned to the courtyard and continued practicing the C-rank Water Release technique, Water Bullet.
He could now form a fist-sized sphere of water perfectly.
The problem was that he still hadn’t figured out how to generate enough force to shoot it forward.
“An explosive burst of chakra creates the thrust…”
Yakumo suddenly understood.
Bang!
The water sphere exploded directly in his hand, instantly drenching him from head to toe.
“As the saying goes, failure is the mother of success.”
“Again!”
He formed the hand seals and manipulated his chakra.
A sphere of water appeared.
He released a burst of chakra.
Bang!
Another soaking.
This repeated dozens of times.
Finally, Yakumo lay down on the steps of his entrance in frustration.
Completely drenched, he looked as though dozens of burly men had taken turns having their way with him—or like a dead fish washed ashore by a giant wave.
“Sometimes…
success really doesn’t care about your feelings.”
Yakumo remained sprawled across the steps, as though mourning dreams that had long since slipped away.
Half an hour later, his body had naturally replenished a portion of his chakra.
He formed the hand seals and manipulated his chakra.
He infused the water sphere with chakra, then released an explosive burst!
Whoosh!
The water sphere shot forward like a blade, striking the wooden fence and scattering a spray of droplets across it.
Yakumo’s eyes lit up.
Success!
Ding!
[Personal Skills] entry registered successfully.
Active Skill: Water Bullet — Beginner Level, 1/100 Available Enhancement: Acceleration
Yakumo stared at the skill panel that had suddenly appeared before him, startled.
Could his special ability accelerate the learning of ninjutsu, too?
There was no point wondering when he could simply test it.
Acceleration!
『Acceleration successful.
100 gold coins deducted.』
In an instant, Yakumo froze as a flood of knowledge poured into his mind.
They were memories of himself repeatedly practicing Water Bullet.
He watched himself fail countless times before finally learning to launch the technique successfully.
Beyond that point, the memories contained no further failures.
His execution was simply extremely slow.
Meanwhile, the proficiency displayed on the panel was climbing rapidly.
Active Skill: Water Bullet — Beginner Level, 10/100
A single acceleration had granted him nine proficiency points.
Yakumo suppressed his excitement and resisted the urge to test Water Bullet again.
After quickly washing himself, he spent his last hundred gold coins accelerating the Chakra Extraction Technique, causing his chakra reserves to surge once more.
For the time being, he would need to fail a few more times in front of others.
After all, it was perfectly normal for a civilian-born student with mediocre talent to attempt a ninjutsu repeatedly without managing to master it.
…
The lights in the Hokage’s office were still on.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was diligently working through his paperwork, occasionally rotating his wrist and lamenting how mercilessly time passed.
Among the piles of documents lay an investigation report on Iori Yakumo.
His grandparents had been among Konoha’s earliest residents.
His parents had died during the Second Shinobi World War.
He had never left Konohagakure, making the possibility that he was a spy highly unlikely.
His morning jogging route had remained consistent over the past few days.
His encounter with an S-rank surveillance target had been entirely accidental.
The report’s final assessment read:
Extremely poor combat ability.Extremely poor ninjutsu learning ability.Extremely poor vigilance.
“This child understands the Will of Fire better than anyone of his generation.
His writing also shows tremendous admiration for me.
He’s a promising young man.
It’s a pity his talent is so poor; otherwise, he might be worth nurturing.”
Hiruzen Sarutobi then slipped the report into a sealed pouch and paid it no further attention.