Six years passed since that night. The night half the village fainted because of me.
They still don't know what really happened. The Hokage took the blame, said it was some new chakra technique that went out of control. People believed him — or pretended to. I never corrected the story. No point.
I remember it too clearly to forget. When it happened, everything just… dropped. Civilians, genin, even most jōnin hit the ground in an instant. The Hokage stayed on his feet, along with a few of the strong ones, but even they struggled. Some didn't wake up right away. A few died because of where they were or what they were doing when they passed out. It wasn't something I meant to do, but that didn't make it any lighter to think about.
The Hokage didn't scold me. He just stood there, quiet, then told the village it was his mistake. I owe him for that.
Since then, I trained. A lot. Not because I wanted revenge. The anger I felt that day burned out fast. My parents died in a war — it happens. I've seen enough fighting to know you don't hold grudges forever. People die, and the world moves on.
That said, if I ever meet the Third Tsuchikage, I'll turn him into a campfire story. Nothing personal — just principle.
I trained because I didn't like feeling weak. That's all.
This world is darker than it looks. Everyone smiles, but there's tension in every corner. Villages pretending to be allies while waiting for the next excuse to start another war. I didn't need anyone to explain it to me; you can smell that kind of atmosphere. So I figured I might as well get used to it early.
The funny thing is, I'm starting to like it here. There's something interesting about the way people live by their "nindo," their ninja way. It reminds me of the crews back home — everyone has something they'd die for, something they'd protect. Maybe that's worth understanding.
So yeah. The Academy.
Let's see what it means to be a shinobi. Maybe I'll find something new to chase here.
Just as he was about to step through the Academy gates, someone brushed past him hard enough to bump his shoulder. Shanks turned his head slightly, expecting a glare, but instead saw a blond kid stop and bow his head.
"Sorry! It's my first day and I got a little too excited," the boy said quickly.
Shanks looked at him — short, spiky blond hair, bright blue eyes, and that open smile only kids had. He looked harmless.
"No worry," Shanks said, smiling faintly. "Just be careful next time. If you fall, you might get hurt."
He said it in that calm tone that sounded more like an adult giving advice than a six-year-old talking to another kid. The blond blinked, then gave an awkward laugh.
He talks like some middle-aged man, the boy thought, scratching the back of his head.
"Anyway, I'm Namikaze Minato," he said, offering his hand. "You can call me Minato. What's your name?"
Shanks looked at the hand for a moment, then shook it. "Akagame no Shanks," he said, then added with a grin, "but just call me Shanks."
He figured he might as well make friends. He was a kid now — no crew, no ship, no sea. Maybe a few good allies would do for a start.
Shanks followed the crowd through the academy gates. The building was bigger than he expected, with walls that looked strong enough to stop most attacks and classrooms that smelled faintly of chalk and ink. He walked calmly, hands in his pockets, observing the other kids as they shuffled in. Some were nervous. Some were already practicing small jutsu in the hallways.
They were led to a classroom and told to take their seats. Shanks chose a spot near the window, giving him a clear view of the courtyard. He leaned back slightly and waited.
Soon, the homeroom teacher entered. A tall man with sharp eyes and a serious expression, though his voice carried a faint humor when he spoke. "Good morning," he said. "I'm Jūgo Rintarō, and I'll be your homeroom teacher. Welcome to the Academy."
He went over the basics of the curriculum — chakra control, basic ninjutsu, taijutsu, teamwork exercises, and missions. Shanks listened quietly, nodding occasionally, already planning how he could handle each subject in his own way.
Finally, Jūgo's expression turned slightly sharper. "By the end of this month," he said, "there will be a class ranking competition. Everyone will be evaluated on skill, teamwork, and performance. So start preparing now. Take it seriously."
Shanks leaned back again, glancing around at the other students. Some looked worried. Some looked determined. He smirked slightly. A competition, huh? Should be interesting.