How are the children of the Ninja World any different from those of his old life?
Simple.
On the surface, they look the same. But in truth, they might as well belong to an entirely different species.
The Ninja World is an extraordinary place. Every living thing contains chakra, a transcendent energy that permeates existence itself.
A thousand years ago, the Ōtsutsuki Clan planted the Divine Tree, and from that moment on, chakra spread across the land, saturating the world and reshaping it from the inside out.
Not just flesh and blood were affected. Even the soul was not spared.
To be precise, a human body in this world can contain up to 130 trillion cells, whereas humans back on Earth average only 30 to 60 trillion.
That is a difference of two to four times.
When it comes to childhood, Ryan has more authority to speak than anyone. After all, he was reborn here.
With a new life came a new name: Higashino Shin.
From Shin's observations, children in the Ninja World are no different from those in his previous life—at least until the age of two.
After that, everything accelerates.
Their bodies grow stronger, their minds sharper, as though some unseen force presses fast-forward on their development. This phenomenon is especially pronounced in the great ninja clans, or in families that have produced shinobi for two or three generations in a row.
To Shin, chakra might as well be a kind of super fertilizer.
Perhaps it is the legacy of a thousand years of constant warfare. In those brutal eras, children were sent onto the battlefield early, and anyone lacking strength, resolve, or adaptability was swiftly eliminated.
Even after the Five Great Nations established the hidden-village system and enjoyed periods of relative peace between world wars, gifted and precocious children remained common.
In this world, a child who behaves with adult solemnity draws no suspicion. People simply assume talent—early maturity, a future destined for greatness.
Take that certain silver-haired boy. No, wait. It's Kakashi Hatake.
With his perpetually world-weary eyes, he graduated from the Ninja Academy at five, became a Chūnin at six, and soon after began cutting down enemies on the battlefield, shocking the entire shinobi world.
He became Konoha's symbol of genius, the standard by which every child was measured.
Later came Uchiha Itachi.
At four, he claimed his first kill on the battlefield. By six, he was already contemplating his clan, the village, and world peace.
Did anyone object?
His father did not guide him away from such thoughts—he boasted about them. Even Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage himself, praised Itachi for thinking like a Hokage at such a young age.
Now, Higashino Shin has joined the ranks of these early bloomers.
The difference is that his precocity comes from rebirth, carrying memories of a past life.
Compared to those two, Shin is merely steadier. He doesn't run around shouting or acting childish—but he also has no intention of pondering grand social philosophies or seeking guidance from eccentric elders.
He has no desire to draw attention to himself.
Behind the fiery passion celebrated in the Ninja World lies a darkness few ever acknowledge.
Shin does not care about world peace. Having been reborn, he wants only one thing—to live for himself, and to live brilliantly.
If he dies in some future war, it will simply mean he was not strong enough, smart enough, or diligent enough.
If that happens, then so be it.
He has died once already. What he fears far more than death is repeating the mediocrity of his past life—crushed like an ant, forgotten like dust.
---
Land of Fire.
Konohagakure.
The sun has yet to rise, and the eastern sky is still pale.
Beyond the bustling commercial and administrative center, the village is encircled by dense forest, scattered residential buildings, and numerous training grounds.
In the northwest, inside a small training field closest to a residential district, a tiny figure is drenched in sweat, grinding through basic physical drills.
A little boy—about three or four years old—with tousled dark-brown hair, fair skin, rosy lips, and bright teeth. Cute and delicate at a glance.
He is Ryan.
Or rather, he was Ryan. Now, he is Higashino Shin.
At this moment, Shin is running laps around the training field.
The grounds inside the village are small; a single lap doesn't take long. Maintaining a steady pace and even breathing, he silently counts each circuit in his head.
Once he reaches his target, he switches to frog-hops, then handstand runs, continuing to circle the field.
After that come push-ups, pull-ups, and more.
Later, he will practice kunai and shuriken throwing.
Between the tall trees surrounding the field, branches extend in every direction, each bearing a makeshift target. The steady thwack-thwack of sharp metal biting into wood echoes through the quiet morning.
Naturally, the volume of every drill is carefully limited.
Shin has not yet learned how to extract or use chakra, and a body not yet four years old cannot withstand excessive strain.
If he trained like Might Guy, his father before him, or the future Rock Lee, he would only cripple himself.
The ability to refine and wield chakra is what separates ordinary people from ninja—two entirely different existences.
Everything Shin is doing now is preparation for that future extraction.
After all, while everyone in this world possesses chakra, it cannot be summoned through willpower alone.
Unless one is exceptionally gifted, without early and grueling conditioning to build a strong body and a focused mind, a person could sit and strain until death and still produce nothing.
Ninjas become ninjas because they endure hardships that ordinary people cannot.
After each round, Shin rests using a method taught by his father. He closes his eyes and uses his mind to visualize and sense every corner of his body.
It is tedious. And unavoidable.
After about five minutes, he begins the next round.
Only when the sun climbs higher, and his stamina is fully spent, does he finally complete his daily goal.
By then, a few older children have arrived at the training ground. Judging by their appearance, they are Ninja Academy students.
It is spring break. These children live nearby; the small public training field was built precisely for them.
Clan ninja have private grounds—after all, shinobi guard their secrets fiercely, especially family jutsu and hidden techniques.
An eight- or nine-year-old girl notices Shin sitting off to the side, soaked in sweat and drinking water, and trots over with curiosity.
"Hey, little guy, you're here early!"
"Yep, big sis. I already finished today's training."
Shin looks up and smiles innocently, deliberately emphasizing the words big sis.
The girl beams at the title and ruffles his hair. "Training so hard at your age—tell me, do you have some amazing dream?"
Here it comes.
In the Ninja World, asking diligent children about their dreams is practically a ritual. Skip it, and it feels impolite.
"Of course!" Shin replies brightly. "I'll grow strong so I can protect the village and my comrades."
A textbook answer.
Dreams of becoming Hokage, protecting comrades—these are the most common aspirations among Konoha's children, perfectly aligned with the Will of Fire.
"So reliable!" She rubs his hair again, then waves. "Seeing you work so hard makes me want to train seriously too!"
"Good luck, big sis!"
The Academy students' training is far more spectacular than Shin's.
Whether it's shuriken drills, kunai practice, or sparring, their power and speed leave him staring wide-eyed, as if watching an action film.
If students are already this impressive, how dazzling must true ninja—especially jōnin—be on the battlefield?
Surely not just pots and pans flying around.
At the very least, it would be a full-scale spectacle—something completely different from watching anime in his previous life.
The true dividing line between ninja and ordinary people is, indeed, the ability to refine and wield chakra.
After watching for a while, Shin drags his tired body home, enjoying the lively morning atmosphere of Konoha along the way.
Now and then, he looks up. In the distance, the faces carved into Hokage Rock catch the rising sunlight, bathed in gold.