Editor Kishimoto Masashi (Seeking Reads)

Perhaps the next one to arrive would be a genius.

Perhaps the next manuscript would be a masterpiece that could shake the ninja world.

But thirty years had passed, and his passion had long since been worn away.

In these thirty years, Kishimoto Masashi had seen too many young people who dreamed of becoming famous with a single book.

They would walk in one by one, clutching thick manuscripts, their eyes shining, claiming they had poured their heart and blood into the work and that it would absolutely be a hit if he just took a look.

And so, he looked.

The result?

Absolute nonsense.

The logic was chaotic, the prose immature, the plot clichéd, the characters flat; some couldn't even write a coherent sentence.

When Kishimoto Masashi refused them, those people would immediately turn hostile, spewing harsh words about how he was blind and didn't understand literature at all, and that their books would definitely be hits in the future—he would regret it then.

At first, he would offer a few words of explanation, but later, he simply couldn't be bothered.

He was an editor; he had read more books than the average person had eaten salt. He knew what was good and what was trash with just a single glance.

At this moment, Kishimoto Masashi flipped through the manuscript in his hands, not holding any real expectations.

He was just a young man, barely twenty; what kind of good work could he possibly produce?

Literature was not like being a ninja.

As a ninja, you might become a Chunin at six and a Jonin at thirteen like Hatake Kakashi, or you might become the Hokage in your early twenties and make a name for yourself across the world like Namikaze Minato.

But literature was different; literature required accumulation.

Without over a decade of reading and a solid foundation in writing, one could not produce anything of quality.

Kishimoto Masashi thought to himself as he flipped to the next page.

His movements slowed down.

His brows furrowed slightly, and his gaze became focused.

Hm?

This story...

The protagonist of this book was named Yan Cheng Douzhen.

He was originally the young patriarch of a great clan, gifted with extraordinary talent from a young age. A renowned teenage genius in the surrounding towns, he had become a Jonin at ten, full of spirit, with everyone calling him the future hope of the clan.

But then, a sudden change occurred. His strength began to decline, day by day, month by month, until he regressed all the way back to a Genin.

Those in the clan who had once fawned over him gradually distanced themselves, and those who had once bowed and scraped before him began to whisper behind his back, mocking, sneering, and ostracizing him.

At fifteen, his fiancée, to whom he had been betrothed since childhood, came to visit.

Seeing this, Kishimoto Masashi sat bolt upright.

He swore that he hadn't seen such a compelling novel in a very long time.

This opening, this setup, this turning point.

Kishimoto Masashi couldn't wait to flip to the next page, wanting to know what would happen next. Would the protagonist fall into despair? Would he rise up to fight back? Was that woman from the childhood betrothal here to fulfill the engagement, or did she have other motives?

He flipped to the next page.

It was gone.

Kishimoto Masashi froze for a moment, then flipped through a few more pages.

It was truly gone.

He looked up at Qiushui, his eyes filled with a complex emotion.

What was this?

Why stop now of all times?

It left him feeling completely unsettled.

Qiushui noticed his expression and felt a bit uneasy.

Although the culture in this world was relatively barren, the novel he wrote wasn't the type filled with excessive violence or smut. Since this was his first time writing, he didn't know if it would meet an editor's standards.

"How is it?" Qiushui asked tentatively. "Does it meet the standards for publication?"

Kishimoto Masashi was silent for two seconds, then a smile appeared on his face as he said enthusiastically, "This novel of yours is written quite well; it completely meets our publishing house's standards."

Qiushui breathed a sigh of relief.

Next came the contract negotiations.

Kishimoto Masashi took a blank contract from his drawer and began discussing the details with Qiushui: how many words needed to be written each month, how the copyright profits would be split, and how promotional resources would be allocated.

"Established literary masters like Jiraiya can get a twenty percent royalty," Kishimoto Masashi explained. "But you are a newcomer, and since this is your first book, you can only get ten percent."

He paused, then added, "This is the industry rule; every newcomer has to go through this."

Qiushui nodded, feeling no dissatisfaction; after all, the trope of side characters and passersby being instantly overwhelmed by a protagonist's "kingly aura" was already outdated.

Before leaving, Masashi Kishimoto asked him to leave behind a pen name. Qiushui thought for a moment and, unlike Jiraiya who used his real name, wrote down the five characters: Sleep Until Natural Wake.

Tuesday, 8:55 AM.

Qiushui did not cut it close like he usually did; at 8:55 sharp, his figure appeared at the doorway, followed by Fujino Okuma from the same office.

The two walked into the classroom one after the other.

Proctors for the Ninja Academy exams were assigned randomly to prevent teachers from shielding students who cheated, so every exam was monitored by two teachers. Today, the first exam for Class 1 of the fourth grade was being proctored by Qiushui and Fujino Okuma.

"Teacher Qiushui!"

As soon as Qiushui entered, a chorus of greetings erupted throughout the classroom, and he responded to each one with a smile and a nod.

Murata Koji followed behind Qiushui, watching the scene in silence. His eyes were filled with deep envy; he had served as a teacher for Class 1 of the fourth grade before, but back then, when he walked into the classroom, the students would just keep doing whatever they were doing, with hardly anyone looking up at him, let alone taking the initiative to greet him.

But now?

The moment Qiushui walked in, it was like a celebrity making an entrance.

Murata Koji sighed inwardly. Comparing people only leads to frustration, so he could only walk silently to the corner beside the podium and stand still.

Qiushui stepped up to the podium, braced his hands on either side of the desk, and scanned the class before announcing, "The exam is about to begin. Check your pens one last time. If you encounter a question you don't know, you can skip it for now and finish the ones you do know; try not to leave anything blank. Even if you really don't know the answer, write something down—you might just guess a point or two correctly. After you finish, check your work carefully before handing in your paper."

Qiushui's expression turned stern as he added, "No whispering, no cheating of any kind. Anyone caught will receive an automatic zero. Is that understood?"

"Understood!"

The entire class replied in unison.

Naruto Uzumaki took a deep breath, clenched his fists on his knees, and wore an expression of unprecedented seriousness.

He had to do well on this exam today.

He had to give it one hundred percent of his effort.

If there was anyone in the entire class who least wanted Teacher Qiushui to be punished, it was undoubtedly him.

Although he still hadn't made many friends, at least his classmates didn't shun him like they used to, and the teachers didn't ignore him like before. Every day, he could eat hot meals and had someone to keep him company.

Hyuga Hinata lowered her head slightly, her hands folded on the desk, her eyelashes trembling gently.