Kakashi shuddered. He turned his head abruptly, laughing classmates, strangers walking by hurriedly; there was nothing unusual.
"Hm? An illusion?" Kakashi scanned the distance out of the corner of his eye without a trace, a suspicion rising in his heart.
On the other side.
Higashino Shinichi carried a sword, walking steadily toward the school's training grounds.
Just as he had planned before—moving out of the orphanage and stepping into the Ninja Academy meant that the stage for building his persona had officially shifted from the relatively closed-off surroundings of the orphanage to this larger stage, which gathered Konoha's future generation and could radiate influence to families throughout the entire village through them.
It was nearing noon, and the sun was scorching.
Although school had let out for the break, the campus was not empty. Similar to many schools in Japan in his previous life, most students at the Konoha Ninja Academy did not go home at noon.
They either brought bentos from home or ate a simple meal at the school cafeteria, then remained in the classrooms, on the playground, or in the library to enjoy their midday rest and free time.
Therefore, even during the lunch break, the school was still full of people, brimming with the vitality and noise of young boys and girls.
What Shinichi needed was exactly this kind of audience.
He arrived at the edge of the training grounds. This area was quite open, equipped with simple wooden stakes, targets, and a flat zone for taijutsu and ninjutsu practice.
At this moment, quite a few students were already scattered about in twos and threes: some sat in the shade of trees eating bentos and chatting, some were practicing shuriken throwing, and others were engaging in simple taijutsu sparring in the open space.
Shinichi's choice was conspicuous. He walked to an open spot that was relatively independent but could still be easily seen from the passing paths and various parts of the playground, and stopped there.
He did not start immediately. Instead, he stood quietly for a moment, his gaze slowly sweeping across the surroundings, taking in those gazes—whether intentional or unintentional.
Good.
He took a deep breath, and his right hand gripped the hilt of his sword.
In the next second, he moved.
There were no flashy or dazzling moves, just the most basic, solid kendo practice swings—stepping forward, twisting the waist, swinging the arm. The long sword sliced through the air, producing a short, powerful, sharp sound.
His movements were standard to the point of being almost rigid. Every exertion of force was clearly discernible; from the soles of his feet to his hips, then to his shoulders, arms, wrists, and fingers, the transmission of power was rigorous and fluid.
Then came the second sword stroke, the third...
His speed was not fast; in fact, he deliberately maintained a steady and clear rhythm, as if he were not pursuing lethality but carving the details of every movement. The hand holding the sword was extremely steady, his eyes focused and fixed, staring only at a non-existent point in the void ahead, completely undistracted.
Gradually, the gazes of some surrounding students who had been doing their own things were drawn over.
"Look over there... is that guy practicing swordsmanship?"
"He's so serious. The movements are exactly the same. He's repeated it so many times, and it's still so standard."
"Is he a new student? Haven't seen him before."
"Tsk, not even resting at noon, working so hard..."
Low whispers drifted over vaguely—some curious, some praising, and some murmuring dismissively. Shinichi felt those gazes and discussions; this was exactly what he wanted.
Starting from this noon, every single day during the lunch break, he would be here, rain or shine, practicing his sword under the watchful eyes of everyone.
And starting tomorrow, and every day after that, he would appear during the peak morning rush to school, carrying giant rocks one after another, running on the playground or the roads surrounding the school.
Day after day.
Whether it brought mockery, sarcasm, or being labeled as different or a freak—it didn't matter.
As long as the impressions of being diligent, hardworking, possessing astonishing perseverance, having a solid foundation, and being talented in swordsmanship... as long as there was a slight possibility that these traits would be acknowledged and recognized by some of them.
And through the eyes of these classmates, these impressions would be constantly confirmed and deepened, then quietly flow into their respective families through after-school chatter.
A casual mention by parents or elders at the dinner table, or ordinary exchanges between neighbors, would gradually bind the name "Higashino Shinichi" to these traits.
Even in the future, when these classmates graduated and became Genin, Chunin, or took up other professions, during daily chats with mentors, teammates, or colleagues, they might occasionally recall: "There was a guy at school back then. Every morning I saw him running with a big rock on his back, and at noon he practiced the sword without fail. He worked desperately hard..."
Impressions are like drops of water; they gather into a stream and eventually shape the "real" him in the cognition of others.
The weather in July had completely immersed Konoha in a sticky heat.
Time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, the first semester was coming to an end, and the Ninja Academy welcomed its three-day final exams.
"Thank goodness for you, Shinichi!"
The written exam for the academic subjects in the morning had just ended. As soon as the proctor collected the papers and walked out of the classroom, Ishizuka Ryu let out a long breath of turbid air. He looked at Shinichi beside him, his dark, sturdy face full of relief: "If not for you, my academic grades would have been done for, just like the previous exams."
He was telling the truth. During the exam, Shinichi hadn't made any major movements; he had simply turned the part of the paper filled with answers just enough toward Ryu's side.
"The practical assessment is this afternoon," Ishizuka Ryu quickly recovered from surviving the academic exam. He leaned forward, familiar eagerness for combat igniting in his eyes. "I heard from the upperclassmen that to evaluate us more comprehensively, the practical exam sometimes shuffles the classes to randomly match opponents. I really hope I get matched with some strong guys from other classes so I can have a good contest."
"Big guy, don't get happy too early. If you get matched with that guy Kakashi, you'll be crying," Shizune, who was organizing her stationery to the side, looked up and poured a bucket of cold water on him.
"Kakashi..." The excitement on Ishizuka Ryu's face froze visibly for a moment. He then scratched his head and frankly admitted, "That guy... really is amazing. A genius among geniuses."
The evaluation "genius among geniuses" was practically the consensus regarding Kakashi Hatake among everyone in the Ninja Academy now.
Since enrollment, in monthly exams, midterms, and all other tests—theory, ninjutsu, taijutsu, genjutsu, shuriken... in every subject, he had achieved perfect scores across the board.
And perfect scores were merely the starting point of his astonishing talent.
While the vast majority of first-year students were still struggling to train their basics, where performing the Three Basic Techniques without error was enough to be praised as a genius...
Kakashi could already fluidly execute elemental ninjutsu.
And not just one type. Wind, Fire, Lightning, Earth, Water—he had all five nature transformations.
Born with five elemental chakras—this was a one-in-ten-thousand, legendary qualification.
Looking through the history of Konoha since its founding, only three people were clearly recorded to possess such talent: the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, who created the era; the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, who laid the foundation; and the current Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, hailed as the "Strongest Hokage."
And Kakashi was the fourth.
Therefore, when the tip of the iceberg of Kakashi's five-element ninjutsu talent was revealed within the school...
The phrase "Hokage Material" also spread, though no one knew which meddlesome student first uttered it.
But soon, it spread quietly like wildfire among teachers and students, and rapidly extended to the entire Konoha.
Nowadays, even the most ordinary commoners in the village had heard about it over tea and meals: the five-year-old son of the Konoha White Fang was a genius among geniuses, a hope carrying the name of the future Hokage.