The Team Leader's Disdain, The Eccentric Seventh Class

Early morning, sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns onto the Konoha bulletin board.

A dense crowd of people huddled together, craning their necks to search for their names.

Today was graduation and team assignment day, which would determine who they would fight alongside for the next few years and which jonin would guide them.

To a large extent, this decided the starting point of a ninja's career.

"I'm in Team 3! Our squad leader is Aoba Yamashiro!"

"Great, I'm in Joichi Suzumiya's team!"

"Team 8... Enichi Yuhi is our teacher, thank goodness!"

Cheers and sighs rose and fell in succession.

Uchiha Ryūha stood alone on the periphery of the crowd, leaning his back against a large tree.

He was quietly flipping through the newly issued C-rank ninjutsu scroll in his hands—Wind Release: Great Breakthrough detailed explanation.

He remained indifferent to the clamor outside, his gaze behind his lenses focused and calm.

Just then, a surge of passionate shouting erupted.

The scent of youth rushed toward him.

At six in the morning in Konoha, two strange ninjas wearing green spandex suits happened to pass by the ninja academy.

A large and a small ninja with thick eyebrows, both clad in green spandex, were circling Konoha for their running training.

"When the new leaves sprout and spring arrives, that is the moment when youth burns at its brightest!"

"Do you feel the youth, Guy!"

The two looked as if they had been cast from the same mold, save for the mustache on the adult.

The spandex outlined the colors of youth, and Might Guy, hearing his father's shout, seemed to be infected as well, responding with an even more heated voice.

"The sweat we shed is the proof of our youth!" At the height of his excitement, Might Guy shed tears of youth.

After locking eyes with Might Duy, who had nearly kicked the Seven Ninja Swordsmen to extinction using the Eight Inner Gates, Uchiha Ryūha withdrew his gaze.

"The Eight Inner Gates and burning youth..."

In the upcoming Third Shinobi World War, facing the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of Kirigakure.

To cover Guy's retreat, Might Duy, as a father, had opened the Gate of Death, instantly killing four elite jonin-level warriors.

While he was lost in thought, a voice rang out from the crowd, carrying undisguised surprise:

"Uchiha Ryūha... Team 7?!"

The surrounding chatter instantly quieted, and countless gazes drifted toward Ryūha's direction.

"Team 7? Isn't that..."

"The squad leader is Matsumoto Ryūichi, right? A very ordinary jonin."

"The teammates seem to be civilian ninjas, no background at all."

"Tsk, I guess even an amazing performance in yesterday's assessment is useless; his 'mutated bloodline' isn't favored after all."

"I heard the higher-ups think that ability is unstable and has limited practical value, not as good as solid basic ninjutsu."

"So what if he's an Uchiha genius? Isn't he still being relegated to a civilian team?"

The whispers buzzed like flies, carrying a hint of schadenfreude.

Look, so what if you stole the spotlight yesterday? Aren't you just like us today, or perhaps even worse off?

Uchiha Ryūha closed the scroll and pushed up his glasses, his expression not changing in the slightest.

Team 7, huh?

He recalled the information he had gathered from the clan's intelligence channels last night:

Matsumoto Ryūichi, thirty-seven years old, of civilian origin, promoted to jonin five years ago through solid fundamentals and the accumulation of countless C-rank and B-rank missions.

His strength was in the lower-middle tier among jonin.

He possessed no special bloodline, no signature ninjutsu, and had a rigid, serious personality; he valued basics and detested "flashy but impractical" geniuses.

A typical mediocre jonin.

The advantage was that he was relatively "safe," and the village likely wouldn't assign overly difficult missions during the upcoming Shinobi World War.

As for his teammates...

Ryūha's gaze swept across the bulletin board.

Haruno Kazuya, twelve years old, civilian.

Theoretical grades were above average, actual combat performance was mediocre.

Chakra levels were ordinary, with no special talents.

Fujiwara Itsuki, twelve years old, civilian.

Taijutsu was slightly better, personality was honest and simple, and his talent for ninjutsu was average.

A standard "background character" setup.

It seems the Third Hokage and the Konoha high-ups are indeed harboring a significant degree of vigilance and... restrictions toward his suddenly emerged "mutated bloodline."

Not placing him in a class with family backgrounds, not assigning him to a renowned Jonin.

Instead, throwing him into Team 7, filled entirely with civilians and led by a mediocre teacher.

They call it "tempering his character," but in reality, it is "observation and control."

Uchiha Ryūha's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible arc.

This is fine.

A mediocre teacher and ordinary teammates mean less attention and more freedom.

It is actually more convenient for what he intends to do next.

"Ryūha-kun."

A timid voice sounded from the side.

Ryūha turned his head to see a boy with short brown hair and a few freckles on his face standing not far away, nervously rubbing his hands.

Beside him stood a stocky boy with thick eyebrows and large, dark eyes.

It was Haruno Kazuya and Fujiwara Itsuki.

"I am Haruno Kazuya, and this is Fujiwara Itsuki." The freckled boy—Haruno Kazuya—forced a smile.

"We... we are teammates in Team 7. The teacher told us to gather at Training Ground No. 3."

"Oh." Ryūha nodded and put away his scroll. "Lead the way."

His attitude was very flat, without excessive enthusiasm, as if he were saying, "The weather is nice today."

Haruno Kazuya and Fujiwara Itsuki exchanged glances, both feeling somewhat awkward.

During yesterday's assessment, Ryūha's performance had been too shocking.

The way he had effortlessly driven Uchiha Setsuna into a frenzy made them instinctively feel a sense of dread.

They had assumed such a genius would be arrogant, but unexpectedly...

He seemed quite easy to talk to?

The three walked silently toward Training Ground No. 3.

Along the way, Haruno Kazuya tried to strike up a conversation several times, but upon seeing Uchiha Ryūha's calm, "keep-away" profile, he swallowed his words.

The training ground was very ordinary, even somewhat dilapidated.

The paint on the wooden stakes was peeling, and the targets were quite damaged.

A middle-aged man wearing a standard Jonin vest with a stern expression stood in the center of the field with his hands behind his back.

Matsumoto Ryūichi.

He looked just as ordinary as his resume: medium build, square face, lips pressed tightly together, and deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

His gaze was as sharp as a blade, carrying a sense of scrutiny as it swept over them.

Seeing the three arrive, Matsumoto Ryūichi's gaze first landed on Haruno Kazuya and Fujiwara Itsuki, and he nodded slightly.

But when his line of sight shifted to Ryūha, his brows furrowed imperceptibly.

An Uchiha.

And an Uchiha who had awakened an unknown bloodline at that.

Troublesome.

A wave of irritation surged in Matsumoto Ryūichi's heart.

What he hated most were these "geniuses" who relied on their bloodline talents and didn't take the basics seriously.

They spent all day chasing flashy, impractical "ultimate moves."

He had read the assessment report from yesterday—"dominating the five senses," "non-hand-seal genjutsu"—all showy and hollow.

A true ninja relies on solid taijutsu, precise shurikenjutsu, stable chakra control, and the experience accumulated from countless missions.

Not these inexplicable abilities.