Two months had passed since Kaizen stepped foot in the village hidden in the leaves.
Konoha.
It was far more peaceful than any place he'd known. The looming walls promised protection, and the watchful eyes of shinobi on rooftops ensured order. But beneath the surface, Kaizen sensed it all operated like a well-oiled machine—efficient, clean, and unrelenting.
Like all orphans displaced by conflict, Kaizen had been taken in and placed within one of the village's many orphanages. A place where children with nowhere else to go gathered—those left behind by the world. The staff were kind, the food was warm, and the beds were soft enough, but Kaizen never truly rested. His trust wasn't so easily given.
In his time there, the village offered each child the same choice: Would you like to train to become a shinobi? Most of the kids hesitated. Kaizen didn't.
He said yes immediately.
The academy offered a path—a way to gain power, knowledge, and maybe even answers. And if nothing else, it gave him a reason to move forward.
Today, the Hokage himself was scheduled to speak to the incoming students. As Kaizen made his way through the bustling village, he passed familiar sights: market stalls, shinobi rushing with scrolls, and chatter of missions and training.
Tucked within his uniform pouch were carefully preserved herbs he had gathered from the village outskirts—wild mint, pain-root, dried hornleaf. With the right process, he could brew basic recovery pills. But he lacked a furnace, a cauldron, and tools. He had knowledge… but not yet power.
As he approached the Academy, children gathered in the central courtyard. Chatter filled the air—excitement, anxiety, curiosity.
Then silence.
The Hokage had arrived.
He stood atop a raised wooden platform in his ornate robe and hat, a gentle smile on his aged face. His presence commanded attention—not through intimidation, but through reverence. Even Kaizen felt it, though he didn't show it.
"Children of Konoha," the Hokage began, "you have all come from different walks of life. Some of you were born in this village. Some have found your way here through hardship. But now, you are all one. One village. One future."
His voice was calm but firm, like a fire warming the soul.
"In this village, we live by a creed: The Will of Fire. It is our belief that the older generation nurtures the younger, and the young protect the future. That the strength of a shinobi is not just in jutsu or battle, but in their heart. We fight not because we love war, but because we protect what is precious."
The children listened in awe. Then came a wave of clapping.
Kaizen clapped too—slow, expressionless.
This is really something, he thought. A beautiful story told to children so they'll sacrifice themselves for the next one. A perfect cycle. A pyramid scam with smiles and banners.
Still… he couldn't help but admire the Hokage's composure.
After the speech, the children were directed to their classrooms. Kaizen entered quietly and chose a seat near the window, his posture relaxed but eyes always alert. Around him, the others still whispered excitedly about the speech.
Suddenly, a shadow blocked his view.
"Hey!" came a loud, cheerful voice.
Kaizen turned his head to see a grinning boy with spiky white hair, eyes full of mischief and curiosity.
"I'm Jiraiya! What's your name?"
Kaizen blinked. The boy was direct.
"Kaizen," he replied calmly, though he was a bit taken aback by the energetic approach.
Jiraiya's grin widened. He extended his hand without hesitation. "Nice to meet you, Kaizen!"
Kaizen stared for a moment… then shook his hand.
"Y'know," Jiraiya said as he plopped into the seat next to him, "the Hokage's speech was kinda cool, huh?"
Kaizen raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"Yeah! He talked like he really believes in what he's saying. Makes you wanna get strong, y'know?"
Kaizen gave a noncommittal grunt. "Yeah… yeah."
This guy's loud, he thought. But… genuine.
Neither of them knew it yet, but this casual meeting would become the beginning of a story the village would one day remember.
They were opposites—sun and shadow, storm and silence. Yet something about that meeting clicked. Destiny had begun to spin its threads.
They would one day be remembered not just as students of the Academy, but as legends.
The Twin Sparks of Konoha.
A bond that would blaze through the annals of history.
Just as Jiraiya leaned over to say something else, a firm voice interrupted the chatter.
"Good morning, everyone."
A tall man entered the classroom, his flak vest fitted tightly, his scarred face stern but not unkind. He stood at the front of the room, arms crossed.
"I will be your homeroom teacher for the entire year," he said. "My name is Ueno Tatsuma. You may address me as sensei. I won't waste your time with flattery. If you're here, it's because you chose the path of a shinobi. That means hard work, failure, and pain. But it also means strength, growth, and pride."
The room quieted.
"I expect discipline. I expect effort. And I will not tolerate laziness. That being said… I will also fight tooth and nail to make sure none of you fall behind. We're in this together."
Kaizen sat straighter. This one… he's real.
Jiraiya nudged Kaizen with his elbow. "He's intense."
Kaizen smirked slightly. "Good."
Tatsuma scanned the class. "We'll begin with basics—History,Theory and body adaptation.
Because being a shinobi is more than learning how to fight. It's learning how to live through war…