The Next Day.
The first official day of the Ninja Academy dawned.
After a rushed breakfast, Ren and Kurenai set off together, their pace brisk—they were flirting dangerously with tardiness. As they hurried through the streets, Kurenai shot Ren a glare heavy with blame. "This is all your fault! What if we're late? We'll make a terrible first impression on the sensei!"
Ren responded with a lazy shrug. "If we're late, we're late. It's probably just orientation today anyway. A day for roll call and meeting our future comrades-in-arms…"
His tardiness had a legitimate cause. The previous night, he'd been engrossed in studying the newly acquired Bakudō #1: Sai. Without the system's midnight alarm as a subconscious timekeeper, he'd lost track of the hours, only succumbing to sleep when exhaustion finally overpowered him in the early morning.
This lapse, however, led to a useful discovery. Despite only two or three hours of rest, he awoke feeling completely refreshed. The bruises and deep muscle fatigue from yesterday's self-punishing training had vanished entirely. His mind was sharp, his body humming with energy.
He wasn't sure if this remarkable recovery was a side effect of the Spiritual Pressure Aptitude enhancement or a nascent manifestation of a hypothetical Uzumaki bloodline. Either way, it was a welcome perk.
It was also worth noting that, after some focused experimentation, Ren had successfully replicated the "reward" from defeating "Ochiai Rumi"—Bakudō #1: Sai—in this world. It made a twisted kind of sense. Kidō and ninjutsu shared a fundamental similarity: both were structured techniques for shaping and directing energy. The only difference was the fuel source—Reiatsu versus Chakra.
Sai, being the most basic of binding spells, was less a complex formula and more a simple, forceful application of that energy—a blunt shove, a kinetic pulse. It hadn't yet reached the stage of elemental transformation or intricate incantations (it was a spell typically cast without one). Its effect was akin to a crude, omnidirectional version of the Hyūga clan's Air Palm: a concussive blast of force meant to stagger or bind.
As for its power? That depended entirely on the user. The same technique could be a gentle nudge or a bone-jarring shockwave.
The real test would come with higher-level Kidō, especially those requiring incantations or elemental attributes. Could he adapt those with chakra? He lacked the data. He needed more rewards.
Kurenai huffed, breaking his reverie. "Stop daydreaming and hurry! We're really going to be late!" She grabbed his sleeve and tugged.
Ren sighed in mock exasperation. "Alright, alright. Lead the way, imouto."
They broke into a jog, but by the time they skidded to a halt outside the door of First Year, Class B, they were undeniably, spectacularly late.
They weren't alone. Another student was making a similarly frantic, last-minute arrival. A small boy in a blue tracksuit, sporting wild, spiky hair and a pair of distinctive goggles, was barreling down the hallway while shouting an explanation ahead of himself. "I'm so sorry, Sensei! I was helping an old lady cross the street! That's why I'm—"
He spotted Ren and Kurenai, fellow delinquents, and a wave of visible relief washed over him. He even shot them a quick, comradely look that screamed, Whew, not the only ones!
Ren glanced over, recognition immediate. 'Late on the very first day. The signature combo of tracksuit, goggles, and spiky hair…' It was a future heavyweight, a linchpin of fate: Uchiha Obito.
He felt a cynical smirk trying to form. 'Just how many little old ladies does Konoha have needing help across the street every morning?' a malicious part of his brain wondered. 'Maybe Uchiha Madara has a squad of White Zetsus on permanent "elderly civilian" duty just to manufacture these scenarios…'
Fortunately, the chūnin instructor—a man with thinning hair whose name Ren didn't yet know—was merciful. It was, after all, the first day. After a brief, perfunctory reminder about the importance of punctuality for future shinobi, he waved the three tardy students to their seats.
The teacher clapped his hands together, drawing the chattering class to order. "Alright, settle down, everyone. Starting today, you are all proud students of the Konoha Ninja Academy, the first step on your path to becoming shinobi who will protect this village…" He launched into the standard, boilerplate motivational speech about hard work, dedication, and the Will of Fire.
After the preamble, he moved to introductions. "I am your homeroom instructor for Class 1-B. You may call me Sensei Oda." He had a kind, if somewhat tired, smile.
The class, still on their best behavior, chorused back with varying degrees of enthusiasm, "Good morning, Sensei Oda!"
Only Ren had to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a sudden, inappropriate laugh. Sensei Oda? What is the ONE PIECE? Is it real? He forcibly shoved the anachronistic meme back into the depths of his mind. Don't laugh. Do. Not. Laugh.
"Instructor Oda" smiled. "Excellent. Now, let's begin our first lesson by getting to know one another. We'll start with self-introductions. This will help you build camaraderie and help me understand the wonderful young shinobi I'll be guiding."
His eyes scanned the room and landed on one of the latecomers, who happened to be sitting in the first row. "You, there. Why don't you start us off?"
"Yes, Sensei!" Uchiha Obito sprang to his feet without a hint of shyness. He adjusted his goggles with a practiced flick.
As if to make up for his late entry with a stellar first impression, he puffed out his chest and declared with unwavering confidence, "My name is Uchiha Obito! I'm five years old! My favorite food is ramen! I don't have too many complicated hobbies! And my dream…" He paused for maximum effect, his voice ringing clear, "...is to become HOKAGE!"
The reaction in the classroom was a mixed tapestry. Some students looked impressed by his boldness. Others were indifferent. A few felt a spark of kinship, their own similar dreams validated. Crucially, almost no one wore an expression of mockery or disdain. Wanting to be Hokage was the default childhood dream in Konoha; six out of ten kids probably claimed it. What made Obito notable was the sheer, unvarnished conviction with which he said it. This Uchiha kid had spirit.
'There are a few familiar faces in here…' Ren's gaze swept the room as Obito sat down, trying to pick out any other future legends or notable figures from the sea of youthful faces.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp poke in his side, right on his most ticklish spot. He jerked involuntarily. Turning, he found his deskmate, Kurenai, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him. Her expression was clear: See? This is what a normal person's dream sounds like! Not "opening a barbecue shop next to a ramen shop."
Ren: "…"
He pointedly ignored her, turning his attention back to the front. No whispering in class, he reminded himself primely.
Clap, clap, clap.
Instructor Oda led a round of polite applause. He'd heard this dream countless times, but Obito's delivery had a certain earnest fire. Combined with the memorable late entrance, he'd definitely remember this student. "A fine and noble dream, Obito-kun. I hope you train hard to achieve it. Next, please…"
One by one, students stood, gave their names, favorite foods, and dreams. The atmosphere remained bright and lively, punctuated by sporadic applause. That is, until a certain boy with a perpetually cool, almost aloof expression rose to his feet.
His introduction was succinct and carried a weight that momentarily hushed the class, followed by a wave of excited murmurs.
There was no helping it. His self-introduction could be summarized in a single, loaded sentence: My father is the Hokage, and my dream is to surpass him.
Asuma Sarutobi, the Hokage's son, had spoken.
Ren couldn't help an internal critique. 'Six points. The essay title is 'My Father.' If you're not mentioned in it, I'm not reading it.'
Beside him, Kurenai's finger found his ticklish spot again. Poke-poke. Her look this time was pointed: See? Even the Hokage's son has an appropriately ambitious dream! Take notes! Stop fantasizing about real estate and grilled meat!
"…" Ren swatted her offending hand away. His waist was a declared no-poke zone! He shot her a warning glare.
Delighted to have discovered a genuine weakness, Kurenai covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with silent, victorious giggles. Hehehe…