A Small Step for the System

The System's Small Step

When Ringo entered the classroom, he felt someone watching him—not Hinata, but those few classmates who were usually the loudest.

Yoshikawa walked over, followed by two others. They were not typical bad kids. They just did not want to admit that their place had been taken by someone who had never even been on the list.

"Ringo, did you use something yesterday...?"

Someone nearby egged them on. "He definitely cheated!" "How could an orphan like him possibly...?"

Ringo did not refute them right away. It was not restraint. The cards in the system slot were vibrating. Every time they talked about me, the cards trembled.

Ringo was distracted. He was feeling it out. This was not anger. It was detection. The system was detecting something.

The desks at the back of the classroom were old. A former student had carved the words "Hokage" into one of them. Naruto had not carved it; it had been someone from much earlier. The shadows of the people surrounding him fell across Ringo's textbook. It was Basic Ninjutsu, open to the page on Wind Release. Not deliberately; he had simply happened to be reading that page yesterday.

Yoshikawa was still talking, but what Ringo heard grew more and more distant because the system notification was growing louder.

"Detecting... Detecting... Detecting..."

It was not the sound getting louder. The golden card in the slot was spinning, faster than it had yesterday.

Ringo felt something flowing through the air around him. Not wind, but emotions. Other people's emotions had become something I could detect.

His fingertips tingled slightly. It was not fear, but card resonance. The purple card, Basic Taijutsu, was absorbing something. It was not absorbing chakra; it was absorbing the negative emotions around him.

The discovery made Ringo's palms sweat. It was not sweat from fear, but—if, if it really could—he did not dare finish the thought.

As Yoshikawa spoke, flecks of spit glittered in the sunlight. His anger had a shape. In the system's detection, it was a red ripple.

Ringo blinked. The ripple vanished. It was not an illusion. The system had given me one second to see it.

A system notification suddenly popped up. It was not translucent, but a golden frame. Different from usual.

"Ding—Emotional field fluctuations detected around the host—scanning..."

"Ding—A white card has been generated approximately fifty meters to the northeast—source: emotional fluctuation (jealousy)—"

"Emotion-triggered drop mechanism unlocked—"

A new tab appeared on the panel: "Emotional Magnetic Field." It displayed the nearby emotional sources. Yoshikawa: red · jealousy. The other two lackeys: orange-red · a mixture of hostility and jealousy.

Ringo's first reaction was not Yes. It was, Wait, other people can drop cards too?

It was not excitement, but a new understanding. In Chapter 1, I thought I was picking up cards people had dropped, or that they were generated randomly. But no—other people's emotions were generating cards.

The Emotional Magnetic Field panel was not just monotonous data. It looked like a thermal image. At the back of the classroom were three clusters of red. Yoshikawa's was the darkest, spreading outward and turning golden yellow when it touched Ringo, then being absorbed.

So my very existence was an attraction for cards.

The system panel did not close. Another notification appeared. Not a ding, but a crackling sound, like biting into hard candy.

"Collected card count ≥3—limited-time unlock: reduced initial synthesis cost (synthesis cost reduced by 50% within 24 hours)—"

"Countdown begins: 23:59:59—"

Ringo stared at the countdown. His palms were sweating, but not from nervousness. It was the urgency of knowing he could not waste this.

Twenty-four hours did not start tomorrow. It started now.

I thought synthesis just cost time and materials. I didn't expect there to be discounts too. The system was helping me. Not unconditionally, but it was leaning in my favor.

In the corner of his vision, red numbers ticked down one second at a time. It was not tension, but an hourglass, every second flowing backward.

The system panel's usual pale-blue tones had turned into golden borders. Was it because this was limited-time, or was it saying congratulations with gold?

I can't sleep tonight. But with only two cards, synthesizing—no, only the purple and golden cards—would be too wasteful. I need to collect more cards first.

Yoshikawa was still talking, but Ringo raised his head and looked at him.

The second half of Yoshikawa's sentence—"You definitely..." —caught in his throat. Ringo's gaze was not the look of someone being bullied, nor was it angry. It was like—what are you looking at?

That feeling sent a chill down Yoshikawa's back. Ringo was calculating.

Ringo lowered his head. It was not weakness. I had just looked at him the way I looked at cards, and he felt it.

So the flow of emotions went both ways. They emitted them, and I absorbed them. But I could emit them too.

I do not want to become bad. But if the Fourth Hokage's orphan could gain attention by being the hero's son, then for an orphan like me to grow stronger through other people's jealousy—that was a transaction, not a sin.

But for now, I would just watch. I would not deliberately make them angry. But if they chose to be jealous themselves, then I could not let it go to waste.

In the second Yoshikawa froze, the classroom suddenly fell quiet. Not everyone—only Yoshikawa and his two lackeys. Their mouths were moving, but their voices had been sucked away, absorbed by the cards.

A bird flew past outside the window, its shadow sweeping across the desk. I would not have noticed before. Now, I noticed everything, because anything could be a source of cards.

Ringo packed up his textbook and stood. Yoshikawa did not stop him. He only watched Ringo's back as though he were looking at someone he did not know.

Ringo walked to the window and suddenly looked up. He was not looking at Yoshikawa, but outside.

It was here again. That gaze. This time, I was sure it was not an illusion. Someone had been watching me all along. It was not malicious, but attentive.

Which teacher was it? Or a patrolling Anbu? No. If it were Anbu, they would have already come to talk to me.

He noted it in his heart. On the sixth day, he would not run. He would wait for that person to appear.

Outside the window, the sunlight shifted, illuminating Ringo's spot with only a single beam. The beam was old, but the gaze watching him was new. It had begun yesterday.

Hinata stood at the corner of the hallway, one hand pressed to her chest. She was not steadying her heartbeat, but holding something down. It was not that there was nothing there—she simply did not know what it was herself.

But she knew she would come again tomorrow. Not on purpose. The path she took passed through here.