Although the death of the First Hokage had plunged the shinobi world into a state of uneasy tension, with dark currents stirring beneath the surface and war looming closer by the day, the storm hadn’t broken—at least not yet.

  For now, the great powers were still feeling each other out, making their preparations, and buying time. Which meant that in the short term, things remained retively peaceful.

  And even if full-scale war did erupt, it wouldn’t have much to do with Kaya and his peers—at least, not yet. No country would throw children into the front lines unless they were truly out of options. At Kaya’s age, even participation in the upcoming First Shinobi War would be a long shot—and if it happened at all, it would be toward the final phases. So for now, the most important thing in their lives was… school.

  “The top score in the taijutsu exam this time goes to… Kaya Shihōin!”

  In one of the training grounds at the Konoha Academy, the instructor beamed as he made the announcement.

  Kaya accepted the praise from Tsunade, Jiraiya, and the others with a modest nod. He wasn’t particurly proud—because honestly, being top in taijutsu was expected.

  Over the past three months, Kaya had been pouring money into the system to double his training gains. The results were, in a word, insane.

  When the system first activated, his taijutsu proficiency had been at Genin Level 0 (1326/10000). After months of consistent grind—sixty points of doubled training each day, boosted by the passive effects of his Rock Lee character card—he had shot up to Genin Level 0 (8245/10000). One more push, and he’d break into true Genin-tier taijutsu.

  For a six-year-old? He was already leagues above the competition.

  Of course, in a world like this, raw numbers weren’t everything. The ninja world was never short on prodigies—there were even kids who reached Jōnin-level strength at a young age. But Kaya had two more trump cards beyond his stats. One: his unique skills granted by the system. And two: his after-hours “tutoring” from none other than the First and Second Hokage. When your personal mentors were legends known as “the God of Shinobi” and “the Genius of a Generation,” your fundamentals were bound to be terrifying—even without fshy techniques.

  “Jiraiya… third from the bottom,” the instructor said with a sweatdrop. “Well, it’s an improvement. Keep working hard.”

  Predictably, Jiraiya had ended up near the bottom of the css again. Kaya didn’t think Jiraiya was talentless—far from it—but the kid had been malnourished for years and cked proper guidance. Climbing up from that kind of disadvantage wasn’t easy.

  “Haha!”

  Someone snickered.

  Third from st and that counts as progress? You could imagine what his grades used to look like.

  “I’ll do my best next time!” Jiraiya said, eyes bzing with sincerity, completely unfazed by the ughter.

  Say what you would about the guy, but he never gave up.

  After css, Kaya turned around to say something to Tsunade—just for a second—and by the time he looked back, Jiraiya was already in a shouting match with someone.

  “Orochimaru! I challenge you!”

  No matter how Kaya tried to hold him back, Jiraiya had already charged forward.

  Smack—

  As expected, Orochimaru barely even moved. A casual sidestep, followed by a sharp blow to the ribs, and Jiraiya went sprawling.

  “If this were the battlefield, you’d already be dead.”

  Orochimaru’s tone was ft, his chin tilted slightly upward, his eyes gleaming with aloof arrogance.

  There was no denying it—Orochimaru was, well… Orochimaru. Even at this age, he carried himself with a strange charisma and gravitas. Kaya had to admit, if we’re talking about dramatic fir alone, Orochimaru had him beat.

  “You bastard…!”

  Jiraiya, who had just been groaning on the ground, scrambled back to his feet and unched himself at Orochimaru again.

  “Alright, alright, calm down, Jiraiya,” Kaya said, dragging him back. “We’re cssmates. What’s with all this rivalry?”

  Truth be told, Kaya had no idea why Jiraiya and Orochimaru had been at each other’s throats from day one.

  Coincidentally—or maybe inevitably—they had all ended up in the same css when the academy term began. The First Hokage’s funeral had taken pce the same day as school orientation. Kaya had pulled some strings to get into the same css as Tsunade. As for Jiraiya and Orochimaru? It felt like fate.

  Though to be fair, Konoha’s education system was still new. Teachers were in short supply, and each css had close to two hundred students. On top of that, many cns still preferred to train their kids privately or wait until they were older to send them to school. At this point in time, cn education was probably still superior to the academy’s.

  So all things considered, the odds of them ending up in the same css weren’t that crazy.

  But the antagonism between Jiraiya and Orochimaru? That did feel like destiny.

  Barely a week into term, the two had started butting heads. And here they were again.

  “I’ll say it one more time,” Orochimaru said coolly. “I’m not interested in challenges from dead st.”

  Jiraiya, who had been slowly calming down thanks to Kaya’s coaxing, instantly snapped again at those words.

  Kaya sighed inwardly and tightened his grip. If you could actually beat him, I wouldn’t stop you—but you clearly can’t, he thought.

  If it were a real fight, Kaya could maybe step in to back Jiraiya up. But when the kid willingly ran up to get smacked down? There wasn’t much he could do.

  Despite being young, Orochimaru’s genius was already undeniable.

  Unlike Jiraiya, who always looked like he was barely hanging on, Orochimaru consistently scored top marks across the board. The only areas where Kaya had the edge were taijutsu and real combat. In every other subject—written exams, ninjutsu theory, you name it—Orochimaru was number one. Not just ahead of Jiraiya, but ahead of Kaya and the top students from Konoha’s most prestigious cns.

  Which, frankly, might have been the reason Jiraiya noticed him in the first pce—and why he kept trying to pick a fight.

  “Kaya Shihōin… I challenge you.”

  “...Huh?”

  Before Kaya could finish de-escating one crisis, Orochimaru dropped another.

  It wasn’t the first time, either.

  Kaya wasn’t sure if Orochimaru cared that much about rankings, but he was definitely proud. Losing to Kaya in even a single category was something he couldn’t tolerate.

  Seeing the sharp gleam in Orochimaru’s eyes, Kaya gave a resigned sigh.

  “Alright, alright.”