Bullied on the First Day?

After the teacher introduced himself, it was the students' turn to go up and introduce themselves.

The first onstage was a little white-haired boy wearing a black mask.

"My name is Hatake Kakashi. I hate trouble, like fighting strong opponents, and dream of becoming a ninja like my father."

Reality differed from the anime, but some distinguishing features were unmistakable.

Aoba recognized Kakashi the moment he stepped onstage.

Kakashi didn't have the dead-fish eyes he would develop later, but he already looked aloof, delivering the most obnoxious lines in the laziest voice.

"That's Kakashi, the guy who came first in the entrance exam."

"Fighting strong opponents? What an arrogant jerk."

"Tch. What a show-off!"

"He really knows how to steal the spotlight!"

Whispers broke out across the classroom as soon as Kakashi finished.

Some students disliked him, while others liked him. Among the girls especially, his first-place finish gave them plenty to talk about.

Kakashi had set the tone, and the introductions that followed were much bolder. Apart from the two students admitted later, almost everyone in the Elite Class had earned their place through excellent exam results. None of them thought they were any worse than Kakashi.

When it came to dreams, they didn't hold back. They wanted to become Hokage or surpass him.

Asuma, the Hokage's son, declared that his goal was to defeat the current Hokage and become the strongest ninja in the Shinobi World.

Even Ishihara Araki's mouth twitched when he heard that one.

Fortunately, everyone else's dreams stayed within "normal" bounds. There were no more outrageous declarations.

Soon it was Aoba's turn to go up.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Yamashiro Aoba. I enjoy experimenting with cooking, and my dream is to retire early, travel across the Shinobi World, and collect rare ingredients to make delicious food."

Compared with everyone else's grand ambitions, Aoba's sounded rather ordinary.

At their age, they were eager to prove themselves, and students who had made it into the Elite Class had plenty of pride.

"Hahaha, cooking?"

"This guy wants to be a chef?"

Quite a few students laughed at Aoba's introduction, but he didn't care.

Ishihara Araki watched Yamashiro Aoba leave the stage and recalled the boy's file.

Aoba had skipped the exam and been specially admitted by the Hokage. In his view, the boy had to possess exceptional talent, making him one of the students he intended to watch closely.

So far, though, the kid's attitude seemed off. He didn't appear motivated at all.

Once the last student had introduced themselves, their first Ninja Academy lesson began: "The First and the Will of Fire."

Aoba leafed through the textbook. Its contents were much the same as the Third Hokage's speech at the opening ceremony, and its author was none other than Sarutobi Hiruzen himself.

Politics lessons were boring, especially for someone like Aoba, whose values were already firmly set. It was like preaching to a brick wall.

The Third Hokage had sent him to the Ninja Academy to steep him in the Will of Fire, but that was a waste of effort.

Still, he had to keep up appearances. Aoba let the system take over. His body sat quietly through the lesson while another scene appeared before his eyes, filled with images and data.

"System, pull up the Chakra Refinement Technique."

A vast amount of information on chakra appeared, accompanied by a three-dimensional image of the body's meridian network.

The Auxiliary Chip projected the information onto his retinas. A close look at Aoba's eyes would quickly reveal something strange about his pupils, but the sunglasses he always wore concealed it perfectly.

The Chakra Refinement Technique drew physical energy from each of the body's 130 trillion cells, then combined it with spiritual energy to produce a supernatural form of energy.

Aoba didn't know whether other people really had 130 trillion cells, but he certainly didn't. Even so, he had more than in his previous life—somewhere around sixty or seventy trillion—and the number grew every day.

If their organs and limbs hadn't been the same as those of humans in his previous life, Aoba might have wondered whether the people of the Naruto World were even living humans, or the "plant people" internet users back then had speculated about.

Now that he was at the Ninja Academy, there was no avoiding chakra refinement.

The length of his mana bar determined how much firepower he had and how strong it would be.

But before his body had fully developed, squeezing energy out of his cells would only drain his potential.

"Could I draw it from cells in specific parts of the body? Target certain tissues?"

"...Excess fat?"

"Or convert food into energy?"

"..."

"Ugh. There's still too little data."

"What little biology I learned in my previous life is nowhere near enough, and it isn't even my field. Relying on the Chip's analysis and simulations alone is too much of a stretch."

He could draw on past experience, but he couldn't copy it wholesale. The unusual cells of people in the Shinobi World were one obstacle; chakra itself belonged to an entirely different branch of science.

"I need to establish a connection with Konoha Hospital as soon as possible."

The morning classes soon ended.

Aoba shut off the projected data, let out a slow breath, and lightly wiped nonexistent sweat from his temple.

He still had too little chakra. Running the Auxiliary Chip at full power would exhaust his current supply in an hour or two.

As soon as Ishihara Araki left, groans filled the classroom.

Few people enjoyed pure theory, least of all political theory—and these were children.

Things would probably stay this way for a while. If they hadn't learned the Will of Fire yet, they could forget about learning ninjutsu.

Aoba now had some idea why the Third Hokage had assigned Araki to this class. Anyone else probably couldn't have kept these kids in line.

For the next decade or so, much of Konohagakure's core fighting strength would come from this class. The next group wouldn't arrive until the story began in earnest: the Konoha 12.

The afternoon was reserved for activities.

Aoba checked the time. It was nearly lunch, so he nudged Kurenai, who had her head down and was about to rest.

"Kurenai, why don't you eat your lunch before you sleep?"

"O-okay."

Kurenai raised her head with difficulty, still looking dazed.

Her rosy expectations of the Ninja Academy had been shattered on the first day—no, in a single morning.

It was nothing like the Ninja Academy she had imagined...

Aoba smiled faintly at Kurenai's shell-shocked expression and took out the lunch Nadeshiko had prepared that morning.

The aroma soon caught Kurenai's attention.

"It's my favorite—salt-grilled chicken wings."

Kurenai's eyes lit up at once.

Just as the two of them were about to eat, a voice sounded beside them.

"Hey, chef."

Several boys approached Aoba. The one in front was a little chubby.

"Hm?"

Aoba looked at the cocky little Fatty in surprise. Is that supposed to be a nickname?

While Aoba sat there in silence, Kurenai shot to her feet and glared at the boys. "Hey! What do you want?"

"Huh? Her eyes are red. That's so weird!"

"Think she has pinkeye?"

"No, pinkeye makes the whole eye red. Hers aren't like that."

The boys went on talking among themselves.

Aoba rubbed his chin. Only then did it dawn on him: he had apparently run into school bullies.