Oath of Patience

The winter of Konoha's Year 59 arrived earlier than usual.

November had barely begun when the wind already carried blades in it. The old locust tree in the orphanage had shed every last leaf, its bare branches reaching toward the gray sky like a skeletal hand. The children no longer ran wild through the courtyard. They huddled indoors around the old kotatsu for warmth. The matron had dug it out of the storeroom. Once plugged in, it hummed like an old cat chanting sutras. Its heating was barely passable, but the blanket had several holes, and the warmth escaped through them faster than the children fled the dinner table.

Senju Shinichi sat in the farthest corner of the kotatsu, an open handwritten notebook spread across his lap. He was writing in it with a pencil worn down to a stub. He had picked up the notebook from a garbage pile—it had been some genin's discarded mission records. The front was crammed with trivial D-rank mission reports: "Help an old lady find her cat," "Clear silt from a waterway," "Failed to ghostwrite a love letter." But the back was blank, perfect for taking notes.

Ever since discovering, three weeks ago, that Root had set up a surveillance point across from the orphanage, he had never gone to the riverbank to practice Wood Release again. Not the riverbank, not the woods, not anywhere that might make people wonder, "Why does this kid always go somewhere deserted?" He had moved all his training indoors, into the cracks between daily routines.

Shinichi drew a chart in his notebook. Its lines were neat and straight, nothing like the work of a six-year-old. In truth, it was not—he had spent six years as a product manager in his previous life, and had drawn more charts than he had written words. Whether that world even had a word for "chart" was another question, but the skill of making them was etched into his soul. No matter how many times he transmigrated, he could never forget it.

The first column was labeled "Completed," with several lines of tiny writing beneath it.

"Shuriken throwing—ten consecutive hits on a fixed target at ten meters. Chakra control—tree climbing and water walking mastered. Basic Transformation Technique—can maintain it steadily for ten minutes. Substitution Technique—success rate approximately thirty percent (too low, needs improvement). Wind-nature chakra—fully fused. Wood Release chakra—requires concealed training."

The second column was labeled "Phase One Goals," and had more items listed beneath it.

"Taijutsu basics—two hundred push-ups and a one-kilometer run every day (indoor version). Ninja tool throwing—moving target practice, double the difficulty. Chakra nature development—need to add Water Nature. Intelligence gathering—Root surveillance patterns mapped out, daily shift changes understood. Identity cover—continue maintaining the image of an 'obedient, sensible orphan.' Wood Release—no practical drills until a safe, concealed training ground is found."

The third column contained only two words, but Shinichi had circled them, underlined them twice, and marked them with a large star. Those words were "Enrollment." Enrollment. April of Konoha's Year 60. Less than half a year away.

In his previous life, enrollment at the Ninja Academy had seemed like nothing more than a minor plot setup—Naruto Uzumaki stole the Book of Seals, learned the Multi Shadow Clone Technique, then put on his forehead protector and became a genin. But to him now, enrollment meant something entirely different. What did enrollment mean? It meant he would no longer be a civilian orphan confined to an orphanage, but an official member of Konoha's ninja system. It meant access to ninjutsu textbooks, training facilities, and proper taijutsu instruction. More importantly, it meant he could openly become classmates with Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke, Hinata, and Ino. In his previous life, they had been old friends he watched through a screen for over a thousand episodes. In this world, they were the most important partners in his future plans.

But all of those goals rested on one premise: before enrollment, Root could not discover his true strength.

Shinichi added another note beside "Enrollment": "Pre-enrollment positioning—versatile genius. Establish natural awakening of Senju Clan bloodline. Avoid exposing Wood Release; highlight basic ninjutsu and ninja tool throwing as primary strengths."

This was a strategy he had been repeatedly refining ever since Danzo's surveillance began. He could not pretend to be a dead last. Being a dead last was safe, but it brought no preferential access to resources. Konoha's ninja training system was pyramidal—the very best received the best teachers and the most opportunities to improve. He did not want to stay so low-key that no one noticed him. That would waste his stockpile of abilities. What he wanted was to be "exceptional but reasonable"—enough to earn the attention of the Third Hokage and jonin instructors, but not enough to make Danzo think, "This one must be recruited immediately or eliminated." Simply put, he needed to display the aptitude of a genius during the entrance exam, but it had to be the result of a "natural awakening of Senju Clan bloodline," not the result of "devouring the First Hokage's cells and Wind-nature chakra."

The former would make the Third Hokage protect him.

The latter would make Danzo dissect him.

Across the kotatsu, Little Flower was playing chess with Little Fatty. They were playing a simplified shogi variant called "Ninja Chess," whose rules were simple enough that players only needed to remember moves within three steps. Little Flower had won three games in a row. Little Fatty no longer wanted to play, but it was too warm under the kotatsu for him to crawl out, so he could only grit his teeth and play a fourth round.

"Big Brother Shinichi, what are you writing?" Little Flower tilted her head, trying to peek at his notebook.

"Homework." Shinichi did not look up.

"But you can't read," Little Flower said matter-of-factly.

"I'm starting to learn now."

Little Flower gave him a doubtful look. Clearly, she did not believe that a boy who spent all day catching bugs would suddenly start studying on his own. But she pulled her head back anyway, because it was Little Fatty's turn, and while she was distracted, he secretly moved one of his pieces.

Shinichi continued writing. The fourth column was titled "New Year Plan," followed by several subpoints.

"Wake up one hour early every day for concealed physical training and chakra control practice. Try to obtain the Shadow Clone Technique as soon as possible after enrollment, but there is no need to rush. Set aside the matter of the Book of Seals for now and wait for an opportunity." These were notes written for himself.

After finishing, he closed the notebook and tucked it into his clothes. The warmth from the kotatsu had flushed his cheeks red. At some point, fine snow had begun drifting down outside the window. Konoha's first snow came quietly and suddenly. The flakes were tiny, melting as soon as they touched the ground, as though the sky were testing the earth's temperature. The children exploded into excitement when they spotted the snow, scrambling to press themselves against the windows. Their noses flattened against the glass, and their warm breaths fogged it white.

"It's snowing! It's snowing!"

"Can we build a snowman tomorrow?"

"With this little snow, there won't even be enough for a head! It needs to snow for at least a whole day and night!"

Shinichi also moved to the window. He watched the snowflakes drift down from the gray sky, but something else occupied his thoughts. Snowy weather was the best cover. Visibility was poor while it snowed, sound was easily absorbed, and fresh snow covered a follower's tracks. Even Root's best tracking techniques would be less effective in such weather. If he wanted to establish a secret training ground, there could be no better time than a snowy day. Ideally, he needed an underground space, or at least somewhere sheltered on all sides—hidden enough, away from patrol routes, and not in an area Root frequented.

He committed the idea to memory rather than writing it in his notebook. Anything written down could fall into someone else's hands. In his previous life, people who worked in the internet industry were more sensitive to the term "information security" than to "girlfriend"—a girlfriend might go through your phone, but product documents really would be pored over by the entire department.

That afternoon, the matron sent him out to buy salt and soy sauce. Shinichi put on a tattered padded jacket with sleeves half a foot too long and stepped out onto the thin snow. His wooden clogs creaked over the snow, kicking up fine powder. Cold wind poured through his collar. He hunched his neck and pulled the collar of his jacket higher. When the old man running the grocery shop at the alley entrance saw him coming, he raised a bag of salt from afar. "You again! How much soy sauce has your orphanage eaten this month?"

"The cook likes salty food." Shinichi took the bag of salt and handed over the coins.

"Even salty food has its limits. I just got this barrel of soy sauce in, and it's almost empty after only half a month. Do you people make braised dishes every day?" The old man counted the coins while continuing the conversation they had not finished last time.

"Not every day," Shinichi said without changing expression.

After paying, he did not head directly back to the orphanage. Instead, he deliberately took a long detour. Not toward anywhere suspicious—quite the opposite. He went to the least suspicious places: the market, the general store, the entrance to Ichiraku Ramen. At every stop, he lingered briefly, as if looking around with curiosity or merely resting his feet after getting tired from walking. If Root was following him, today's report would read: "Target conducted routine shopping. Route preference: detours. Behavioral trait: highly curious."

He stopped at the entrance to Ichiraku Ramen. The restaurant curtain swayed gently in the cold winter wind, and the scent of pork bone broth drifting from inside was like an invisible hand that hooked directly into his soul. Through the curtain, he could see the warm yellow light and misty steam within.

But not today.

He stood there for several seconds, then left. It was not that he did not want to eat there. He had no money. The coins in his pocket were the matron's shopping change, and every last one was accounted for. He would come another time, once he had money. Then he would order the largest bowl, with extra chashu, egg, and seaweed, and bring Naruto Uzumaki along too. Yes, he would bring Naruto Uzumaki to Ichiraku Ramen—he had been thinking about that since the second day after his transmigration. But he still had not found the right opportunity.

Naruto Uzumaki should be living nearby as well. Leaf Village's orphan placement policy was to send children who had lost their parents to orphanages, but Naruto Uzumaki was an exception—he was the Nine-Tails' jinchuriki, and the Third Hokage did not agree to let him grow up in a group environment. Naruto Uzumaki lived alone in a small apartment at the eastern end of the village, a fifteen-minute walk from the orphanage. Shinichi had considered going directly to find him after moving into the orphanage, but after repeated evaluations, he decided not to approach him before enrollment. There had to be ANBU protecting Naruto Uzumaki, and approaching him would be the same as voluntarily standing right in the center of ANBU's telescope view. He had finally become practically invisible under Root's surveillance. There was no need to throw himself in front of the lens. Just wait a little longer. After enrollment, they would naturally become desk mates. Everything would be perfectly justified.

After returning to the orphanage, he handed the salt and soy sauce to the matron, then squatted in the corner of the kitchen to help peel garlic. This was something he had requested himself. The matron's assessment was: "This child has been coming to the kitchen a lot lately. Either he wants to steal food, or he wants to learn how to cook. But the odds of a six-year-old boy wanting to learn to cook on his own these days are too low, so he is probably stealing food." Shinichi did not argue and continued peeling garlic. The kitchen was the warmest place in the entire orphanage. The fire in the stove was always burning, and a pot of radish soup bubbled away on the range for dinner. Steam had turned the window glass milky white. Snowflakes stuck to the glass outside, quickly melting into streaks of water.

The day passed just like that.

Late at night, all the children were asleep. The matron had finished her final room check and turned off the lights. The entire building sank back into darkness. Shinichi did not sleep. Sitting on his bed with a blanket draped around him, he spread the notebook over his knees and used the moonlight leaking through the window crack to complete the final column. The pencil made a soft scratching sound against the paper, like snowflakes landing on a windowsill.

"Overall Phase One objective: complete basic combat capability reserves before enrollment while keeping a low profile and avoiding detection by Root. Core resource inventory: Senju Clan bloodline activated; Wood Release has begun to sprout and is usable, but must remain concealed. Wind-nature chakra fully fused. Ten-meter consecutive hits with ninja tool throwing. Hashirama cells stored in bloodline repository. Foreknowledge of the plot. The Third Hokage's attention is a favorable factor. Three white smoke bombs, one kunai, one scroll. Objectives yet to acquire: Water Nature development, solid taijutsu fundamentals, moving-target accuracy, Shadow Clone Technique."

He paused here, seemingly organizing his thoughts. Then he added a few more lines.

"First build strength, then draw the sword. The road is long, but the direction is clear."

He closed the notebook and tucked it beneath his pillow. He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket and closed his eyes. Outside, the snow continued falling, silently covering every tile and every inch of earth in Leaf Village, dyeing the entire village a quiet white. A thin layer of snow accumulated on the branches of the old locust tree in the orphanage courtyard. Whenever the wind passed, the branches trembled slightly and shook down a few flakes.

And the six-year-old who liked staying awake in the middle of the night had already sunk into dreams. In that dream, there was no Root, no surveillance. There was only a blond, blue-eyed boy sitting on a swing with his back to him. He walked over, patted the boy on the shoulder, and asked, "Hungry? I'll treat you to ramen." The boy turned around, and a smile Shinichi had never seen appeared on his whisker-marked face.

Shinichi smiled in his dream too.

Half a year later, the story would truly begin. But its real protagonist had already made every preparation.