Several teachers were gathered in the office, discussing the exams.
"Teacher Mizuki, your class will probably come in first in the grade again on this month's exam, won't it?" Fujino Okuma said, his voice tinged with envy. "You're one step closer to being named Outstanding Teacher at the end of the year."
Although he and Mizuki were both homeroom teachers for fifth graders, Okuma had been assigned Class 2 of the 5th Grade, whose students were of middling ability, with not a single genius among them. Mizuki, on the other hand, had Class 1 of the 5th Grade, which included Hyuga Neji, a genius who had held the top spot in the entire school for both theory and practical exams ever since enrolling.
What made Okuma feel even more helpless was that he also taught ninjutsu to Class 1 of the 5th Grade. It made him feel as though he did all the hard work while Mizuki got all the credit.
Mizuki sat in his chair. At Okuma's words, a restrained smile appeared on his face. He picked up his teacup and took a leisurely sip before replying, "You're jumping the gun, Teacher Okuma. This is only the first monthly exam. There's still a long way to go before the Outstanding Teacher selection."
He set down his teacup. "Your teaching methods are good too, Teacher Okuma. I've just been lucky enough to have two particularly talented students in my class."
Matsumoto Mie didn't join in Mizuki and Fujino Okuma's conversation.
She taught Class 2 of the 1st Grade and Class 3 of the 4th Grade. Her students were even less promising than Okuma's. Forget geniuses—between both classes, there wasn't even a single student from a ninja clan. Still, she took it all in stride. After all, her family was the main focus of her life, and she no longer had much ambition when it came to promotions or raises.
When Matsumoto Mie saw Qiushui enter the office, her eyes lit up. Smiling, she said, "Teacher Qiushui, I've actually been meaning to compliment you. Last Friday, I went to teach Class 1 of the 4th Grade, and Naruto actually raised his hand to answer a question. You have no idea—I've taught that class for years, and it was the first time I'd ever seen him raise his hand. If his grades improve, your class might get a good ranking on this month's exam. You might even have a chance at being named Outstanding Teacher at the end of the year."
Qiushui replied modestly, "You're too kind, Teacher Matsumoto. I only did what I was supposed to."
"Not at all," Matsumoto Mie said, waving a hand. "You have no idea how hard Naruto used to be to manage in class. No matter how many teachers they changed, no one could do anything with him. You've only been here a short while, and already you've got him listening attentively. That's more than just doing what you're supposed to." She paused, then added with a smile, "Keep it up. I believe in you."
Mizuki felt uncomfortable again as he watched them.
Qiushui taught fourth grade and Mizuki taught fifth, so they weren't even competing for the same Outstanding Teacher award. There was no conflict of interest or rivalry between them. And yet, seeing Matsumoto Mie smile so sincerely at Qiushui, her words full of admiration, inexplicably grated on him.
After school that afternoon.
Qiushui didn't head straight home. He detoured to his place first, picked up a stack of bound manuscripts from his desk, and checked through them. They were the novel his clones had written over the past half month, and the pile had grown quite thick. After confirming that all the pages were present, the numbers were correct, and the handwriting was clear, he tucked the manuscript into his clothes, then headed out for Shueisha Publishing House in the center of the village.
It was the largest publishing house in the village. They said the Third Hokage's Will of Fire and Jiraiya's Icha Icha Paradise had both been published there.
Qiushui walked through several streets and stopped in front of a five-story building. A finely crafted sign hung over the entrance, bearing the words "Shueisha Publishing House."
Qiushui pushed open the door, and the wind chime above it jingled.
The first thing he saw was a huge poster for Jiraiya's Icha Icha Paradise series.
It showed a man and a woman in an intimate pose, their eyes hazy. The caption read, "The Shinobi World's number-one bestseller. You haven't read it yet?"
Qiushui's eyelid twitched.
He'd never read the novel, but just from the poster, he could tell that it must be pretty steamy and violent to be the kind of book Kakashi stayed up all night reading.
He looked away and glanced around the publishing house. The interior was larger than he'd expected. Several employees were spread out at different workstations, looking through various things. Manuscripts and sample books were piled high on their desks, and a few people like him were holding novel manuscripts, sitting or standing with anxious, hopeful expressions.
Qiushui walked up to the front desk.
A young woman around twenty with short brown hair and big eyes was sitting there, looking down as she sorted through something.
"Hello," Qiushui said. "I'm here to submit a novel."
The woman looked up.
Her eyes visibly lit up.
She stared at Qiushui's face, froze for a second, then came to her senses. "Oh! Of course. Please wait a moment."
Perhaps there weren't many people in this world who wrote novels, or perhaps there was some other reason, but the woman didn't make him wait in line. Instead, she stood up and led him upstairs.
Qiushui followed her up to the second floor, where they stopped outside a private office.
The woman knocked.
"Come in," a hoarse voice answered from inside. It sounded like the voice of someone who had spent years staying up late.
The woman opened the door.
A middle-aged man, seemingly in his forties, sat in the office. He had an ordinary face, two pronounced dark circles beneath his eyes, and a book in his hands.
"Editor-in-Chief Kishimoto," the woman said, gesturing toward Qiushui beside her. "This author is here to submit a novel."
Kishimoto Masashi's gaze lingered on Qiushui's face for a moment. He nodded and said, "Got it. You can go downstairs."
The woman answered, turned to leave, and pulled the door shut behind her.
The office fell quiet.
Kishimoto Masashi put down the book in his hands and leaned back in his chair. After looking Qiushui over, he said, "Have a seat."
At his words, Qiushui sat down.
Kishimoto Masashi asked, "What genre is your novel?"
"Leveling-up fiction," Qiushui replied.
"Did you bring the manuscript?"
"I did." Qiushui took the manuscript from inside his clothes and placed it on the desk.
Kishimoto Masashi picked it up and glanced at the first page. The cover bore several large characters: "The Shinobi World's Strongest Ninja: A Useless Boy Abandoned by His Clan?"
The handwriting was neat, the strokes firm. Kishimoto Masashi nodded to himself. At least the handwriting was good.
He opened to the first page and began to read.
Qiushui sat across from the desk, in no hurry, and waited quietly.
Kishimoto Masashi was fifty years old and had been an editor for thirty years.
Thirty years ago, he had been a young man full of energy and ambition. When he first joined the publishing house, he'd been brimming with passion, determined to discover a literary master who could surpass Jiraiya and become a top editor.
Back then, he'd been full of hope for every author who came in to submit a novel.
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