At dawn, sunlight filtered through the leaves and fell across the notice board in the Konoha Ninja Academy courtyard.
A dense crowd pressed together, craning their necks to search for their names.
Today was graduation team assignment day. It would determine who they would fight alongside for the next few years, as well as which Jonin would train them.
To a great extent, this would decide where their ninja careers began.
"I'm on Team Three! My team leader is Aoba Yamashiro!"
"Great, I'm in Joichi Suzumaki's team!"
"Team 8... Enichi Yuhi! Yes!"
Cheers and sighs rose and fell all around them.
Uchiha Ryūha stood alone at the edge of the crowd, leaning against a large tree.
He quietly read through the newly issued C-Rank ninjutsu scroll in his hands: A Detailed Guide to Wind Release: Great Breakthrough.
He paid no attention to the commotion around him. Behind his glasses, his gaze remained focused and calm.
Just then, a spirited shout rang out.
The energy of youth swept over them.
At six in the morning, two strange ninjas dressed in green bodysuits happened to be passing the Ninja Academy.
The two thick-browed ninjas, one large and one small, wore green bodysuits and were jogging around Konoha.
"When new leaves sprout and spring arrives, that's when youth burns brightest!"
"Have you felt the power of youth, Guy?"
The two looked as if they had been cut from the same mold, except that the adult had an extra moustache.
The bodysuits brought out the colors of youth. Hearing his father's shout, Might Guy seemed to catch the spirit, answering in an even more impassioned voice.
"The sweat we shed is proof of our youth!" Overcome with emotion, Might Guy shed tears of youth.
After exchanging a glance with Might Duy—the man who would soon use the Eight Inner Gates to nearly kick the Seven Ninja Swordsmen to death—Uchiha Ryūha looked away.
"The Eight Inner Gates and burning youth..."
During the Third Shinobi World War, not long from now, Might Duy would face the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of Kirigakure.
To cover Guy's retreat, his father, Might Duy, would open the Gate of Death, killing four elite Jonin in an instant.
As Ryūha pondered, a voice rose from the crowd, barely concealing its surprise:
"Uchiha Ryūha... Team Seven?!"
The chatter around them quieted a little, and countless gazes surreptitiously drifted toward Ryūha.
"Team Seven? Isn't that..."
"Isn't their team leader Matsumoto Ryūichi? He's a pretty ordinary Jonin."
"I heard his teammates are all civilian ninjas. No connections or anything."
"Tch. So even an amazing performance in yesterday's assessment doesn't matter. They don't think much of his 'mutated bloodline' after all."
"I heard the High Command thinks that ability's unstable and has limited practical value. They'd rather see him master the basics."
"So what if he's a Uchiha prodigy? They still dumped him in a civilian team."
The whispers buzzed like flies, carrying a hint of schadenfreude.
Look at that. So what if you stole the show yesterday? Today you're just like the rest of us—maybe even worse off.
Uchiha Ryūha closed the scroll and adjusted his glasses, his expression unchanged.
Team Seven, huh?
He recalled what he'd learned the night before through his clan's intelligence network:
Matsumoto Ryūichi, thirty-seven, born a civilian. He had been promoted to Jonin five years ago on the strength of his solid fundamentals and countless C-Rank and B-Rank Missions.
His strength was in the lower middle of the Jonin ranks.
No special bloodline, no signature ninjutsu. He was rigid and stern, valued the basics, and disliked "flashy but impractical" prodigies.
A typical mediocre Jonin.
His one advantage was that he was relatively "safe." The village probably wouldn't assign him anything too difficult during the coming Shinobi World War.
As for his teammates...
Ryūha's gaze swept over the notice board.
Haruno Kazuya, twelve years old, civilian.
His theoretical scores were above average, but his practical skills were mediocre.
He had an average amount of Chakra and no special talents.
Fujiwara Itsuki, twelve years old, civilian.
His Taijutsu was a little better, his personality honest and straightforward, and his talent for ninjutsu average.
A textbook "background character" lineup.
It seemed the Third Hokage and the Konoha High Command really were quite wary of him, this "mutated bloodline" that had appeared out of nowhere... and wanted to keep him on a short leash.
They hadn't put him in a team with clan connections or assigned him to a well-known Jonin.
Instead, they'd tossed him into Team Seven, a team made up entirely of civilians and led by a mediocre teacher.
They called it "tempering his character," but what they really meant was "observe and control him."
The corner of Uchiha Ryūha's mouth curved ever so slightly.
That was fine by him.
A mediocre teacher and ordinary teammates meant less attention and more freedom.
That would actually make what he planned to do next easier.
"Ryūha."
A timid voice sounded beside him.
Ryūha turned and saw a boy with short brown hair and a few freckles standing nearby, nervously rubbing his hands together.
A sturdy black-haired boy with thick eyebrows and large eyes stood beside him.
They were Haruno Kazuya and Fujiwara Itsuki.
"I'm Haruno Kazuya, and this is Fujiwara Itsuki." The freckled boy—Haruno Kazuya—managed a smile.
"We... we're your teammates on Team Seven. The teacher told us to meet at Training Ground No. 3."
"Oh." Ryūha nodded and put away the scroll. "Lead the way."
His manner was calm and unremarkable, as if he'd just said, "Nice weather today."
Haruno Kazuya and Fujiwara Itsuki exchanged glances, both looking ill at ease.
Ryūha's performance at yesterday's assessment had been too shocking.
The way he had driven Uchiha Setsuna to madness without even breaking a sweat had instinctively frightened them.
They'd assumed a prodigy like him would be arrogant, but...
He seemed pretty easygoing?
The three of them walked in silence toward Training Ground No. 3.
On the way, Haruno Kazuya tried several times to strike up a conversation, but whenever he saw Uchiha Ryūha's calm profile, which seemed to say "keep your distance," he swallowed his words.
The training ground was ordinary, even a little run-down.
The paint on the wooden posts was peeling, and quite a few of the targets were damaged.
A stern-faced, middle-aged man in a standard Jonin vest stood in the middle of the field with his hands behind his back.
Matsumoto Ryūichi.
He looked just as ordinary as his record: average height, a square face, tightly pressed lips, and deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
His gaze was as sharp as a blade, and when it swept over them, it carried a scrutinizing edge.
When the three arrived, Matsumoto Ryūichi first looked at Haruno Kazuya and Fujiwara Itsuki, giving them a slight nod.
But when his gaze shifted to Ryūha, his brow creased almost imperceptibly.
A Uchiha.
And one who had awakened an unknown bloodline ability.
Troublesome.
Matsumoto Ryūichi felt irritation well up inside him.
He hated "prodigies" like this most of all—the kind who relied on their bloodline talent and didn't take the basics seriously.
They spent all their time chasing after flashy "big moves."
He'd read yesterday's assessment report. "Controlling the five senses," "genjutsu without hand seals"—all showy nonsense.
A true ninja relied on solid Taijutsu, accurate shuriken, stable Chakra control, and experience earned through countless missions.
Not these inexplicable abilities.
Before you continue