The next morning, Hitoshi ate his breakfast slightly annoyed. The intrusion of the would-be busybody had ruined his training from the previous day. Although he had tried to complete it at home, he had not achieved the same physical impact.
As she sipped some milk and toast, her mind kept turning over and over. "Maybe it was an animal or something accidental," he thought, although he knew he couldn't risk it. He would rather leave his training site than have to explain himself to people who, in his opinion, would add nothing to his life.
After washing the dishes she had used for breakfast, she began to prepare for the academy. She packed her lunch in her backpack, adding some fruit to go with it. Then, he went to the bathroom for the finishing touches. While brushing her teeth, she looked in the mirror.
Brown hair and eyes, slightly pale skin... It wasn't particularly striking. "Nothing flamboyant like red, blonde or pink hair," he thought, looking at his reflection. "I guess the only thing that fits the stereotypes is this hair I can't comb." She sighed before grabbing her backpack and heading out of the house.
As usual, Konoha offered excellent weather. Arriving at the academy, he entered smoothly, passing by some students at the entrance who paid little attention to him.
Once in the lounge, he noticed that there were still few people. "Apparently I'm too early," he thought as he made his way to his seat. Pulling a book out of his backpack, he began to read as he waited for the others to arrive.
When everyone was finally in the classroom, the teacher entered with a smile. The bustle of the room immediately died down as his presence was noticed. He walked to the table and surveyed the class with a sharp, almost predatory gaze.
"As I mentioned yesterday, today we will start with the history of our village. The first ones who answer correctly will get some benefits in the class."
The teacher's statement generated excitement among the students. Some were ecstatic at the thought of earning a reward, while others were visibly frustrated. "I knew I had to listen to my father when he explained about the village," thought one of the children as he pulled his hair.
Hitoshi, for his part, did not get carried away by the general enthusiasm. With two blades in his hands, he began to train his chakra control under the table. At first glance, he seemed attentive and excited about the lesson, but in reality he was completely focused on his training.
"Multitasking is a skill I want to develop," he thought, "And what better time to practice it than during these useless classes."
Although he knew he had to appear interested, he found the lessons boring. He knew darker, hidden parts of the village's history, details that the higher-ups preferred to censor. So learning the official version did not appeal to him.
However, as a civilian shinobi, an orphan with no connections, he knew he had to maintain a serious and respectful attitude.
So went the morning, with lectures full of filtered and indoctrinating information. However, I had to admit that the teacher made a genuine effort to make the classes bearable.
"Oda-san is a good teacher. Even teachers in my previous life didn't try so hard," he thought as he looked at the clock.
Finally, Oda sat down at his desk and announced, "You now have a lunch break. Then we will return to practice physical activities. I recommend that you eat well so that you don't faint during the exercises."
The classroom filled with laughter at the comment, and students began to leave. Some ran as if their lives depended on it, while others walked calmly toward the exit.
Hitoshi took his backpack and decided to explore the academy a bit. During recess, the hallways were full of kids he didn't recognize. "There's not much information about this era," he thought. "So it stands to reason that I don't recognize anyone."
With an idea in mind, he smiled and adjusted his backpack. Moving quickly through the corridors and up the stairs, he reached his destination. He stopped in front of a door, checked that no one was following him, and carefully opened it.
The sunlight hit his face. He had reached the rooftop of the academy. Closing the door cautiously, he inspected the place and confirmed that it was empty. Perfect.
He sat on the floor, leaning his back against a wall. He pulled out his lunch and began to eat. Although it was cold, it was completely edible.
As he used his chopsticks to enjoy the rice and chicken he had prepared, he thought about his culinary skills. "After so many years, in this life and the previous one, I've finally mastered the recipes here." Although he admitted there was still room for improvement, he had plenty of time to perfect each dish.
When he finished, he took out a piece of fruit and began to observe the scenery from the rooftop. The academy was huge, surrounded by greenery, and the atmosphere was cheerful. However, he noticed that some of the children did not seem to fit in with that joy.
In one corner of the courtyard, he saw a group of children harassing smaller ones.
"Dangerous...harassing children who are constantly near weapons. Very dangerous," he thought as he shook his head at the bullies' behavior.
His view of the activities here still clashed with his own ideals. After almost six years, he still couldn't quite get used to it, although he supposed this was due to the little interaction he had had with people over time. The last time he had spoken to someone without money being involved had been a long time ago. No one approached him, and he wasn't looking for company either. The only people who treated him with any kindness were store clerks, but that was only because he paid. They didn't count.
Breathing the pure, clean air, he enjoyed the quiet moment.
"Maybe I should try to make friends... but at this age kids are unbearable," she thought, letting out a sigh. "All they want to do is play and joke around, and it frustrates me. I just don't fit in." As he pondered, he held a leaf in his hand, taking advantage of the downtime to continue his training. "And who might I find interesting here? The Sannin are surely teenagers by now...the last thing they'd want would be to hang out with a little kid like me."
He sighed again, slipping the blade under his clothes and sliding it down his torso to his forehead.
"I suppose I should give time to time, but planting seeds from now is always important." Staring at the leaf at his fingertips, he smiled.
"Perfect..."
Unbeknownst to Hitoshi, high up on the wall where he was lying, a black-haired girl was resting peacefully gazing at the clear sky.
"Quiet, calm and hardworking. Good combination, Fukui-san," she muttered to herself.
The sound of the bell marked the end of the break and the return to the classroom. Hitoshi got up from the floor, dusting off his clothes and grabbing his backpack to return to the classroom. Upon arrival, he sat in his seat, watching the other students enter one by one. His gaze strayed to the right, where an Uchiha girl, Mikoto, was reading quietly at her desk, indifferent to everything going on around her.
When Mikoto noticed his gaze, Hitoshi averted his eyes quickly, uncomfortable with the possibility of having made her uncomfortable. However, something about her seemed strange to him. Her presence seemed unsteady, even weak, but, looking at her, it was impossible to ignore the elegance and nobility that surrounded her, like waves enveloping him.
"Must be some skill of shinobi nobility," he thought as he fiddled with a pencil between his fingers.
As the last student rushed into the classroom, teacher Oda appeared with a folder in his hand and his trademark smile.
"All right, guys. As I mentioned to you this morning, we will be practicing physical drills today. We'll meet on training field one. Don't be more than five minutes late."
The preparation was simple: there were no sports clothes or uniforms, everyone would wear what they had on. Hitoshi, for his part, wore a simple T-shirt, a sweatshirt, Anbu-type pants and sandals. He had already gotten used to the idea of seeing his feet every day, since shoes were something strange in that society.
Arriving at the training ground, he was impressed by the size of the place. There were multiple areas with students practicing. Their teacher led them in front of a running track and, with a stopwatch in one hand and a folder in the other, explained what they would be doing.
"Today we are going to do some laps on this track. We'll start by evaluating endurance and then we'll work on speed. This is all to gauge their limits and help them improve over time. got it?"
The students responded enthusiastically.
"Perfect. The men will run first, then the women. That will give them plenty of time to recover between activities. Line up at the starting line. Remember: no interfering with others is allowed. Any act of aggression will be sanctioned and the person responsible will be expelled from the activity."
Hitoshi was unable to position himself in the front row; the clan children and some more confident civilians blocked him. No problem, he positioned himself at the back and took the opportunity to stretch. He did not want to risk a cramp in the middle of the exercise.
When everyone was ready, Hitoshi felt a shiver run down his back, as if someone was watching him intently. Although he wanted to turn around, he decided not to and concentrated on the race. He swallowed saliva as he waited for the starting signal.
"Begin!"
With that command, the students took off running. Some did so in desperation, while others, like Hitoshi and Shikaku, kept a steady jog. Hitoshi knew that this test was not about speed, but endurance, so he controlled his pace from the start.
After three minutes, several children began to fall to the ground, holding their legs and rolling around in pain. Cramps, the silent enemy of those who did not prepare properly, made their appearance. The screams and complaints of those who could no longer run mingled with the laughter of the girls watching from the line. Master Oda's disappointment was evident, especially seeing some Akimichis among the fallen.
Hitoshi, for his part, continued without problems. As he reached the fifth lap, he noticed that only a few clan boys and a couple of civilians, including himself, remained. Next to him, a blond boy, drenched in sweat, was struggling to keep going. Although his exhaustion was evident, his determination would not relent. It was clear that he did not want to give up.
"Namikaze-san, amazing. Even being so young and probably without formal training, your body shows admirable endurance. That's something to appreciate," Hitoshi thought as he cast occasional glances at his civilian companion. His goal in the race was simple: place in the top seven or eight. He was good enough to stand out, but not so good as to attract unnecessary attention.
One of the three civilians decided to retreat. The boy fell to the ground, trying to catch his breath, as the group dwindled further. With only four more runners on the track, Hitoshi knew he could safely withdraw.
When Shibi Aburame abandoned the race, Hitoshi waited a few seconds so as not to arouse suspicion and began to hyperventilate, feigning exhaustion. His sweaty face and the way he dropped to the ground gave the impression that he was on the edge. He looked at his master, who responded with a thumbs-up in approval.
Hitoshi had held on long enough to surprise. His master, who initially did not expect much from him, was impressed to see him finish in seventh place, just behind Ryo Uchiha, who collapsed a few seconds after Hitoshi. For a civilian to beat so many clan children was a remarkable achievement.
The men's podium was led by Senju Nawaki in first place, followed by Inuzuka Dai, Hyuga Hiashi, Hyuga Hizashi and, in fifth place, Namikaze Minato. That a civilian made it into the top five among so many clans was remarkable. The applause and compliments were not long in coming, especially from the girls, who couldn't resist Minato's warm thanks and smile. Their reactions even elicited a few squeals.
Meanwhile, Hitoshi sat quietly on the floor, showing no signs of fatigue. Once all attention was directed to Minato, he had no need to continue acting exhausted. He appeared to simply be resting.
However, the feeling of being watched persisted. It was like a judging gaze, similar to that of a mother disappointed by an irresponsible child. Determined to find out where it came from, he discreetly turned around, but saw nothing. Perhaps he was imagining things.
At another point of the field, Mikoto Uchiha was watching the race with calculating eyes. A moment ago, his gaze was fixed on Hitoshi, trying to decipher something he couldn't understand. Yesterday he had watched him run without a break for two hours and continue as if nothing, but today he barely lasted half an hour on a flat, shaded track at a slow trot. "Why would he do that? He could have easily placed first, but he finished seventh...disappointing."
To Mikoto, whose analytical mind rarely failed, the situation was puzzling. For the first time, she felt like a Raikage: big, strong and completely clumsy in terms of finding a logical answer.
"Maybe my father can explain it," he thought, dropping the matter for now to concentrate on his own exercise.
The girls' race was similar to that of the boys. The clan kunoichis showed their physical superiority, matching and even surpassing the boys in some cases. Meanwhile, the civilians were mostly disappointing, leading to laughter and sarcastic comments among the children.
Hitoshi, oblivious to all this, drank water quietly as he reflected on his day. He was thinking about what to have for dinner and what trainings to prioritize in the coming days. He would not return to his hideout that week for safety, so he would focus on chakra control and hand seals, his biggest areas of improvement.
When the last girl crossed the finish line, the female podium was led by a Senju in first place, followed by Mikoto Uchiha and Tsume Inuzuka. Hitoshi looked at the winner and shook his head. "It's a pity that such a promising clan is destined to disappear," he thought, aware of the future events that would mark history.
The next exercise was a speed run in groups of twelve. As Hitoshi finished seventh, he was assigned to the first group, composed mostly of clan children and a couple of civilians. Without thinking too much, he positioned himself at the starting line and set his sights on the finish line.
"Maybe coming seventh again isn't such a bad idea," he thought as he shifted his feet restlessly. "God willing."
The atmosphere on the track was tense. The children wanted to prove their worth, gain recognition from their families and earn rewards for their efforts. At the teacher's signal, they all shot off.
This time, there were no cramps or dropouts. The clan children demonstrated their physical readiness, and Hitoshi initially placed first. His training at such a young age paid off, and he couldn't help but smile, proud of himself. Although he compared himself to children who were just beginning their ninja path, many of them had privileges and resources that he had never had. However, their lack of projection and discipline was evident at times like this.
Aware of his situation, Hitoshi deliberately slowed down, allowing others to overtake him. He came in seventh place again, satisfied with his performance.
After crossing the finish line, the atmosphere was filled with childish excitement. Hitoshi, uncomfortable with so much hullabaloo, stepped back to avoid being swept up in the euphoria. But that strange feeling of being watched returned, and this time he was sure it was coming from the group of girls. "Maybe I found my first fan," he thought, chuckling to himself. "Although that's what they have Minato for... with that warm personality, he's sure to have an entourage of female fans tomorrow."
After receiving a few words of encouragement from his teacher, Hitoshi picked up his backpack and headed home, intent on completing his light training. Meanwhile, a black-haired girl walked with noble bearing through the streets of Konoha, leaving a trail of imposing presence in her wake.
Mikoto was uneasy. She had seen with her own eyes how Fukui was capable of much more than he had shown. However, when she had the opportunity to stand out and show her full potential, she chose not to. She simply settled for seventh place, as just another one of the bunch, far from receiving the accolades that could have been hers.
Although she had also failed to take first place in the competitions, taking second place was nothing to be ashamed of. After all, the Senju, with their naturally stronger bodies, were tough opponents to beat.
On the outside, Mikoto maintained her usual unflappable countenance, but inside, doubts and frustration kept her from being at ease. She wanted to get home as soon as possible and ask her father about what had happened.
When she finally arrived at the Uchiha compound, she was able to relax a bit and allow herself to crack a few smiles. The clan members greeted her with respect, and she responded with the same courtesy. Though she knew she would never have the opportunity to lead the clan due to the strict traditions that reserved that right for men, she strove to honor those around her. Her future husband, not her, would be the one to bear that title. It was one of those old-fashioned ideas of the clan elders, something that always caused her some discomfort.
With those thoughts hovering in her mind, she grumbled quietly as she walked through the door of her home. There she met her mother, who was cooking and greeted her warmly. Her mother had always been loving and attentive, a constant refuge in her life. Her father, on the other hand, used to warn her not to listen too much to her mother, as he considered her an impractical influence.
To Mikoto, those words were unimportant. As long as the affection was genuine, she would accept it and return it without hesitation. And her mother had always been that unconditional pillar for her.
After a brief hug and an affectionate shake in her hair, her mother asked with a smile:
"How did you do today, Mikoto-chan, did you get first place in physical training?"
The question made Mikoto smile slightly, but she shook her head.
"No, mother. A Senju girl took first place. But I promise I'll get it next time. Excuse me, I need to talk to father."
Although somewhat disappointed, her mother gave her approval with a nod.
"He's in his office, he'll probably have a moment for you. Go and ask him whatever you need."
Mikoto thanked him and made her way through the house, which, as expected for the clan head's residence, was unnecessarily large. Arriving at her father's office, she knocked twice and waited for permission to enter.
A cold, gravelly voice broke the silence in the hallway, "Come in."
Mikoto turned the knob and stepped firmly through the door. Her father's office was sober and laden with authority. Old photographs adorned the walls, and the shelves were crammed with worn books and scrolls. In the center, the imposing desk was overflowing with cluttered folders. Uchiha Tarō, with his serious countenance and sharp gaze, was leafing through a file without paying attention to his visitor.
The silence dragged on until, finally, he looked up, straight at his daughter.
"What do you need, Mikoto?"
There was a mixture of patience and warning in his tone. Mikoto knew not to interrupt him lightly, but also that her father would grant her a moment if the question was important enough.
"Father, I have a question about certain behaviors."
"Speak."
That permission was enough. Mikoto had learned to measure her words to make her curiosity seem serious and worthy of attention.
"I noticed that there are people who, even though they have the skills, don't show them fully. They even go so far as to appear weaker than they are - why would anyone do something like that?"
Uchiha Tarō watched her carefully, as if measuring the weight of her words. For him, suppressing power was a serious offense. The weak were expendable, and the strong, essential. However, it was not a matter of morality; it was the implacable logic of the shinobi world.
"The boy you're talking about, is he a civilian?"
Mikoto blinked, surprised by her father's precision.
"Yes... father. It's civilian."
"Don't lie." Her voice took on a cutting tinge, though she didn't raise her tone. "I know you're talking about someone in particular. You wouldn't be interested in something that wasn't exceptional."
Trapped, Mikoto felt the air catch in her throat. There was no way to evade the truth.
"His name is Fukui Hitoshi."
The man nodded slightly, closing his eyes as if digging into his memory.
"Fukui... that surname is not listed in any shinobi records. It must be completely civilian."
He paused, assessing whether he should share more. Tarō was not one to show leniency, but he felt that his daughter, despite her youth, could understand the harshness of reality.
"Listen well, Mikoto. Civilians in this world do not have the same backing as clan shinobi. They lack connections, protection or political allies. In the First Ninja War, do you know how many civilians were used as human shields or sacrificed in suicide missions? Far too many. Most don't make it beyond Genin, and those that do are anomalies. But..." he leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing, "talented civilians become valuable pieces, though not for the reasons you think. They are manipulable. Without powerful family to back them up, they're squeezed for every last drop of usefulness."
Mikoto pursed her lips, processing each word with growing discomfort. "But isn't that a good thing? If someone supports them, they could reach their full potential, right? Even if it means obeying."
Tarō's response was a slow, stern shake of his head.
"How do you feel when I make you train until you can barely stand?"
"Frustrated...and a little angry," he admitted, averting his gaze.
"Multiply that by ten or a hundred. Talented civilians can't complain, or stop, or refuse. If they do, they are seen as ungrateful or even traitors. A dog that bites its master's hand has no place in this world, Mikoto. And with enough rumors, that civilian can be reduced to nothing. Friendless. No resources. No future."
His father's voice took on a sterner tone, stressing every word.
"Maybe Fukui understands. Maybe his parents taught him not to stand out so he wouldn't become a tool. It's possible he's looking for something most don't have: the freedom to choose. But make no mistake, if you noticed him, it won't be long before he attracts the attention of the Hokages or the clans. And then, Mikoto, the real political games will begin."
Mikoto remained silent, her thoughts spiraling. Her father sensed her unease and added, almost as a consolation:
"Maybe I'll get lucky. He might find support in someone like the Senju. Though they rarely accept strangers, perhaps Mito-sama will see something in him. And if that happens, Fukui will have a chance, however slim."
The man leaned back in his chair, making it clear that the conversation was over.
"Now go. Train. Don't bother me until dinner."
Mikoto bowed her head in respect and left the office. As she crossed the hallway, her thoughts were fixed on Fukui Hitoshi.
"Mature and intelligent...such a rare combination. How did you come to such complex conclusions at such a young age, Fukui-san? Perhaps I should observe you more closely. I can't ignore something so unusual."
With that determination, Mikoto clenched her fists. The mystery of Fukui Hitoshi would be a riddle that she herself would solve.