The teachers of the Ninja Academy were a special breed of patient. They were teaching six-year-olds—children whose attention spans were shorter than a kunai's edge. This meant repeating key concepts of chakra theory until the words lost all meaning.
For the average child, it was necessary. For Xingye, who held the mental maturity of a thirty-year-old man, it was a special circle of hell.
Fifteen minutes into the first lecture, he was already restless. Listening to a man explain the five basic hand seals for the tenth time was like watching paint dry in slow motion. He felt his brain melting.
To save his sanity, Xingye reached into his tool pouch and drew his slender dagger. Keeping his hands beneath the desk, he began to spin it.
It was a habit born from an old theory he had read in his previous life: A true master treats his blade like an extra limb. Through his Weapon Mastery talent, the blade moved like a living thing, dancing across his knuckles, flipping over his thumb, and blurring into a shimmering metallic butterfly. Each rotation sent a tiny, satisfying pulse of experience into his System.
He thought he was being subtle. He forgot that sitting directly behind him was a blonde girl with the observational instincts of a Senju.
Tsunade was bored out of her mind. Grandma Mito had already drilled these basics into her at the dinner table. She had spent the last ten minutes watching an Inuzuka girl pet a puppy and judging Akimichi Ting Sheng for his secret snack stash. Then, her eyes landed on the back of Xingye's head.
He's not sleeping, she noted. What is he looking at?
She craned her neck, peering over his shoulder until she saw his hands.
Her breath hitched. So cool!
The way the silver light caught the edge of the dagger as it spun at high speed was hypnotic. To the young Tsunade, who considered "coolness" a vital currency of the gambling world, this was a revelation. It rivaled the dramatic flair of her grandfather's dice-shaking.
I can do that, she told herself. I'm a Senju. I've been winning at the casinos since I was five. A little finger-twirl? Please.
She didn't have a dagger, so she reached over and snatched a pencil from the desk of her deskmate, Yako.
"Princess!" Yako whispered, her eyes welling with tears. "I'm using that for notes!"
"Hush," Tsunade muttered, already focusing.
She gripped the pencil between two fingers, flashed a confident, internal smirk, and flicked her wrist.
The pencil didn't spin. It performed a clumsy arc through the air, clattered off the back of Xingye's chair, and rolled into the far corner of the classroom.
Tsunade's eyebrow twitched. A fluke.
She reached out her hand again. Yako sighed, pulled out another pencil, and handed it over like a sacrificial lamb.
Snap. Tsunade had applied too much force. The lead-filled wood splintered into two jagged pieces.
"Princess... that was the last one," Yako whimpered, looking like a kicked puppy.
"I know!" Tsunade snapped, her face flushing crimson. She saw Yako flinch and immediately felt a pang of guilt. "Ugh, Yako, don't look at me like that. We're friends, not master and servant. Stop crying."
She patted Yako's head to calm her down, but her eyes were already burning with a competitive fire. This wasn't her fault. It was the teacher's fault for being boring. And it was Xingye's fault for making it look too easy.
He's going to pay for this, she decided.
She gathered her "fierce" resolve, puffed out her cheeks, and poked Xingye hard in the center of his back.
Xingye jumped, his rhythm shattered. The dagger slipped from his fingers, but his reflexes were honed. He snatched the hilt an inch from the floor and tucked it back into his pouch in one fluid motion. He turned around, ready to snap at whoever had interrupted his "cultivation."
But the sight of Tsunade stopped him cold.
She was glaring at him, her face puffed up like a steamed bun, her tiny brows furrowed in a look that was clearly meant to be intimidating but was, in reality, dangerously adorable.
Xingye's adult brain hit a "critical hit" of cuteness. "What?" he asked, his voice softer than he intended.
Tsunade pointed a trembling finger at his tool pouch.
"That thing," she demanded. "I want to learn how to do that. Right now."