Kakashi Had Hokage Potential!

Kakashi shuddered and abruptly turned around. His classmates were laughing and joking, and unfamiliar faces hurried past. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Hm? Was it just my imagination?" Kakashi glanced discreetly toward the distance, suspicion stirring in his heart.

Elsewhere.

Higashino Shinichi carried a sword as he walked steadily toward the school's training ground.

Just as he had planned, he had moved out of the orphanage and entered the Ninja Academy. The stage on which he would build his image had officially shifted from the relatively secluded area around the orphanage to a much larger one—a place where the next generation of Konoha gathered, and where he could reach families across the village through them.

It was nearly noon, and the sun blazed overhead.

Though school was out for the day, the campus was far from empty. Much like many schools in Japan in the real world, most students at the Konoha Ninja Academy didn't go home at lunchtime.

Some brought lunch boxes from home, while others grabbed a quick bite in the school cafeteria. Then they stayed in the classrooms, on the playground, or in the library, enjoying their midday break and free time.

So even during the lunch break, the school was still bustling with people, alive with the energy and chatter of boys and girls.

That was exactly the kind of audience Shinichi needed.

He reached the edge of the training ground. The area was quite spacious, with simple wooden posts, targets, and level ground for practicing Taijutsu and ninjutsu.

Quite a few students were already scattered around in small groups. Some sat beneath the trees, eating lunch and chatting. Others practiced throwing Shuriken, while a few sparred in basic Taijutsu in an open area.

Shinichi chose a spot that stood out. It was somewhat secluded, yet easily visible from the paths and all around the training ground. He walked over and stopped.

He didn't start right away. Instead, he stood quietly for a moment, his gaze sweeping slowly over the area as he took in the eyes watching him, both deliberately and in passing.

Good.

He took a deep breath and gripped the hilt with his right hand.

The next moment, he moved.

There were no dazzling, elaborate techniques—just the most basic and solid sword-training swings: step, twist at the waist, swing the arm. The long sword cut through the air with a short, sharp whistle.

His movements were nearly rigid in their precision. Every exertion of force was clear, its path from the soles of his feet through his hips, shoulders, arms, wrists, and fingers both disciplined and fluid.

Then came a second swing, a third...

He wasn't moving quickly. In fact, he deliberately kept to a steady, measured rhythm, as though he weren't trying to maximize the sword's lethality but instead to refine every detail of each movement. His grip was rock steady, his gaze focused and unwavering as he stared at an imaginary point in the air, completely absorbed in what he was doing.

Gradually, the eyes of some students who had been minding their own business began to drift toward him.

"Look over there... Is that guy practicing swordsmanship?"

"He's so serious. He keeps repeating the exact same movements, and they're still so precise."

"Is he a new student? I've never seen him before."

"Tch, he's not even taking a break at lunch. He's really pushing himself..."

Faint murmurs drifted over—curiosity, praise, and a few dismissive mutters. Shinichi could feel the eyes and hear the comments. That was exactly what he wanted.

Starting today, he would practice swordsmanship here every day during lunch break, without fail, in full view of everyone.

And starting tomorrow, and every day after that, he would appear during the morning rush, when students were heading to school, carrying boulder after boulder on his back as he ran along the training ground or the roads around the school.

Day after day.

It didn't matter if it earned him ridicule or mockery. He didn't care if people thought he was strange or a freak.

As long as some people acknowledged and remembered him as diligent, hardworking, incredibly determined, solid in the basics, and gifted at swordsmanship, those impressions would be enough.

His classmates would keep confirming and reinforcing them. Then, through casual after-school conversations, those impressions would quietly make their way into each of their homes.

A parent or elder might mention him offhandedly at the dinner table; neighbors might bring him up in passing. Little by little, the name "Higashino Shinichi" would become linked to those qualities.

Even in the future, after his classmates graduated and became Genin, Chunin, or took up other occupations, they might occasionally remember him in casual conversations with their mentors, teammates, or colleagues: "There was this guy at school back then. Every morning, you'd see him running with a huge boulder on his back, and at lunch he'd practice swordsmanship without fail. He was really something..."

Impressions were like drops of water. They gathered into streams and, in the end, shaped the person others believed him to be.

The July weather had submerged Konoha in a thick, sticky heat.

Time flew by. Before long, the first semester was about to end, and the Ninja Academy was holding three days of final exams.

"Thank goodness for you, Shinichi!"

The written culture exam had just ended that morning. The proctor collected the papers and had barely left the classroom when Ishizuka Takashi let out a long breath. He turned to Shinichi, his dark, sturdy face full of relief. "If it weren't for you, I'd have bombed the culture exam just like the ones before it."

He was telling the truth. During the exam, Shinichi hadn't made any conspicuous movements. He had simply angled the part of his paper with the answers toward Takashi.

"The practical exam is this afternoon." Ishizuka Takashi quickly recovered from the relief of surviving the written test. He leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with that familiar eagerness for a fight. "I heard from the older students that they sometimes mix up the classes and randomly pair people to make the practical exam more comprehensive. I hope I get matched up with some strong kid from another class so I can have a proper fight."

"Big guy, don't get too excited. If you get matched up with Kakashi, you'll be in tears," Shizune said, looking up from where she was packing her stationery and pouring cold water on his enthusiasm.

"Kakashi..." The excitement on Ishizuka Takashi's face visibly faltered for a moment. He scratched his head, then admitted frankly, "That guy... really is strong. He's a genius among geniuses."

"Genius among geniuses" was practically the consensus among everyone at the Ninja Academy when it came to Hatake Kakashi.

Ever since he enrolled, he had earned perfect scores on every monthly and midterm exam—in theory, ninjutsu, Taijutsu, Genjutsu, Shuriken, and every other subject.

And those perfect scores were merely the starting point of his astonishing talent.

While most first-year students were still struggling to build their foundations, and being able to perform the Three-Body Technique without mistakes was enough to earn someone praise as a genius, Kakashi could already smoothly perform elemental Release techniques.

And not just one. He could use all five: Wind, Fire, Lightning, Earth, and Water.

A natural affinity for all five Chakra natures—an aptitude found only once in a thousand, so rare it was practically legendary.

In all the history since Konoha's founding, only three people had been clearly recorded as possessing such talent: Hashirama Senju, the First who ushered in a new era; Tobirama Senju, the Second Hokage who laid the village's foundations; and the current Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, hailed as the "strongest Hokage."

Kakashi was the fourth.

So when a glimpse of Kakashi's talent for all five Chakra natures was revealed at school...

Who knew which meddlesome student had first started calling him "a Hokage in the making"?

But the phrase soon spread quietly among students and teachers like wildfire, and quickly reached every corner of Konoha.

By now, even the most ordinary villagers had heard about it over tea: the five-year-old son of Konoha's White Fang was a genius among geniuses, a hope who bore the promise of becoming Hokage one day.