Kakashi shivered. He abruptly turned his head—classmates joking and playing around, unfamiliar faces hurrying past. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
"Hm? Was that just my imagination?" Kakashi cast an inconspicuous glance toward the distance from the corner of his eye, doubt quietly rising in his heart.
Elsewhere.
Shinichi carried a sword in his hand and walked with steady steps toward the school's training grounds.
Just as he had planned earlier—from moving out of the orphanage to stepping into the ninja academy—the stage for crafting his persona officially shifted from the relatively closed surroundings of the orphanage to this much larger arena, one that gathered Konohagakure's future new generation and could radiate outward through them to families across the entire village.
It was close to noon, and the sunlight was blazing.
Although it was dismissal time, the campus was far from deserted. Much like many schools in Japan in reality, most students at the Konohagakure Ninja Academy did not go home at midday.
Some brought bento from home, others took a simple meal in the school cafeteria, and then remained in classrooms, on the training fields, or in the library, enjoying their lunchtime rest and free activity period
As a result, even during the lunch break, the academy was still bustling with figures everywhere, filled with the vitality and clamor of boys and girls.
These were precisely the spectators Shinichi needed.
He arrived at the edge of the training grounds. The area was quite spacious, equipped with simple wooden posts, targets, and level zones for taijutsu and ninjutsu practice.
At this moment, quite a few students were already scattered about in small groups: some sat under the shade of trees eating bento and chatting, some practiced throwing shuriken, and others engaged in simple taijutsu sparring on open ground.
Shinichi's choice was striking. He walked to a relatively independent patch of open space that could nevertheless be easily seen from the passing paths and from all parts of the training grounds, and then stopped.
He did not begin immediately. Instead, he stood quietly for a moment, his gaze slowly sweeping over the surroundings, taking in those looks—whether intentional or unintentional—one by one.
Good.
He took a deep breath, and his right hand closed around the hilt of the sword.
The next second, he moved.
There were no flashy or dazzling techniques—just the most basic, most solid swordsmanship practice swings. He stepped forward, twisted his waist, swung his arm. The long sword cut through the air, bringing with it a short, sharp, forceful sound.
The movements were so standard as to be almost rigid. Each exertion of strength was clearly discernible, from the soles of his feet to his waist and hips, then to his shoulders, arms, wrists, and fingers. The transmission of power was rigorous and smooth.
Then came the second swing, the third swing…
His pace was not fast. If anything, he deliberately maintained a steady, clearly defined rhythm, as if he were not pursuing lethality, but carving out the details of every single movement. His sword hand was extremely steady, his eyes focused and composed, fixed only on some nonexistent point in the empty air ahead, his mind free of distractions.
Gradually, the attention of some students who had originally been busy with their own affairs was drawn over.
"Look over there... is that person practicing with a sword?"
"So serious. The movements are exactly the same—repeating them so many times, and still that standard."
"Is he a new student? I haven't seen him before."
"Tch, not even resting at noon. He's really going all out..."
Low murmurs drifted over—curiosity, praise, and also dismissive muttering. Shinichi sensed those looks and those comments. That was exactly what he wanted.
Starting from this noon, every lunch break, he would come here without fail and practice swordsmanship in full view of everyone.
And starting tomorrow, and every day after that, during the morning rush when students were heading to school, he would appear on the training grounds or on the roads around the academy, running while carrying one huge rock after another on his back.
Day after day.
Whether it brought mockery, sarcasm, or even people calling him weird or a freak, it did not matter.
As long as impressions like diligence, hard work, astonishing perseverance, solid fundamentals, and considerable talent in swordsmanship had even a slight chance of being acknowledged and recognized by some of them—and as those impressions were repeatedly confirmed and deepened through these classmates' eyes, then quietly flowed into their respective homes through casual after-school chatter—a parent's offhand mention at the dinner table, ordinary exchanges between neighbors, all of it would gradually bind the name "Higashino Shinichi" to those traits.
Even in the future, when these classmates graduated and became genin, chūnin, or entered other professions, in everyday small talk with instructors, teammates, or coworkers, they might occasionally recall: Back in school there was this guy—every morning you'd see him running with a huge rock on his back, and at noon he'd practice with a sword without fail. He worked like crazy...
Impressions were like droplets of water, gathering into a stream. In the end, they would shape the real him in other people's cognition.
…
July's weather had already thoroughly soaked Konohagakure in a thick, sticky heat.
Time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, the first semester was about to end, and the ninja academy welcomed three days of final exams.
"Good thing I had you, Shinichi!"
The written test for the morning's cultural course had just ended. As soon as the proctor had collected the papers and left the classroom, Ryū let out a long, heavy breath. Then he looked at Shinichi beside him, his dark, sturdy face full of relief. "If it weren't for you, my cultural course would've been wrecked just like the other exams earlier."
What he said was the truth. During the exam, Shinichi had not made any conspicuous moves; he had merely angled the portion of his paper filled with answers slightly toward Ryū's side.
"The practical combat assessment is this afternoon," Ryū quickly recovered from his narrow escape in the cultural exam. Leaning forward, his eyes lit up with that familiar eagerness for real combat. "I heard from the upperclassmen that, to make the evaluation more comprehensive, the practical exam sometimes scrambles classes and randomly matches opponents. I really hope I run into some tough guy from another class and have a proper bout."
"Big guy, don't get happy too early. If you get matched with that Kakashi fellow, you'll be the one crying," Shizune, who was organizing her stationery nearby, looked up and poured cold water on him.
"Kakashi…" The excitement on Ryū's face visibly stalled for a moment. Then he scratched his head and admitted frankly, "That guy… really is incredible. A genius among geniuses."
"A genius among geniuses" was, in the current ninja academy, practically the universal consensus regarding Hatake Kakashi.
Since enrolling, in every monthly test and midterm exam—whether theory, ninjutsu, taijutsu, genjutsu, shuriken throwing… every single subject—his scores had been perfect across the board.
And perfect scores were merely the starting point of his astonishing talent.
When the vast majority of first-year students were still struggling to train their fundamentals, and being able to use the Three Basic Techniques without mistakes was already enough to earn praise as a "genius," Kakashi was already capable of smoothly performing elemental ninjutsu.
And not just one—Wind, Fire, Lightning, Earth, Water—the full five releases.
Innate five-attribute chakra. This was an aptitude one in ten thousand, something that could be called legendary.
Looking across the history of Konohagakure since its founding, those clearly recorded as possessing such talent numbered only three before him: the era-defining First Hokage, Senju Hashirama; the Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama, who laid the village's foundations; and the current Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, hailed as the "Strongest Hokage."
And Kakashi was the fourth.
Thus, after just the tip of the iceberg of Kakashi's five-attribute ninjutsu talent was revealed within the academy, phrases like "the makings of a Hokage" somehow emerged from the mouth of some enterprising student.
Before long, they spread quietly like wildfire among teachers and students alike, and swiftly reached the entirety of Konohagakure.
By now, even the most ordinary civilians in the village had, more or less, heard during their post-meal chatter: that the White Fang of the Leaf's family had a son only five years old, a genius among geniuses, a hope bearing the future title of Hokage.
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