第3章 我只想苟着晒太阳,查克拉却爆表了

Sen pressed his right foot down on the dirt pit, grinding it in secret.

Only when he was certain that the withered wood and the new sprout were buried deep underground did he let out a silent sigh of relief.

After finishing this act of destroying evidence, he guiltily scanned his surroundings.

In the distance, Aunt Li was panting heavily, rubbing her barrel-like waist as she grumbled while walking back.

Several orphans cleaning the courtyard were also busy with their heads down; no one spared a glance at this corner of the wall.

That was close, I almost ended up a corpse right out of the gate.

Sen patted his chest, breaking into a cold sweat.

This was genuine Wood Release. If anyone actually caught him, his six-year-old self would be lying on a Root dissection table by tomorrow.

He turned his head to look at Ishikawa, who was still fanning himself with his hand and wearing a look of disgust.

"Alright, stop fanning. The smell was gone ages ago."

"Sen, you really need to go to the infirmary and get your head checked today," Ishikawa muttered, unconvinced.

"Growing leaves? Do you think you're a tree?"

Sen didn't refute him; he simply stretched, his bones popping with a few crisp cracks.

"Who knows? Maybe I was a tree that provided shade in my past life."

He yawned naturally, cradled his head with his hands, and strolled toward the other end of the courtyard with a swaggering gait.

"Where are you going now? Aren't you going to weed?" Ishikawa shouted from behind.

"Weed what? The sun is so nice today, I need to hurry and grab a good spot in the backyard."

For the next half-month, Sen's life became extremely regular and entirely uneventful.

The caregivers and children in the orphanage all noticed a strange phenomenon.

The Sen Senju who used to be sickly and barely able to walk had completely turned into a salted fish.

His only activity every day was to act like a sunflower, searching the entire courtyard for the sun.

In the morning, he lay on the haystacks atop the backyard wall.

At noon, he sprawled between the broken roof tiles.

In the afternoon, he moved to the woodpile behind the kitchen.

Wherever there was direct sunlight, you could be sure to find his motionless figure.

"Sen, you're out here basking every single day, aren't you afraid of peeling?"

At lunchtime, Ishikawa squatted beside the woodpile holding a chipped ceramic bowl.

The bowl contained a few pathetic greens and half a coarse steamed bun.

He looked at Sen, who was sprawled out on top of the woodpile with his eyes closed, enjoying the sun, and couldn't help but complain.

"You've been baking for half a month, but your face hasn't darkened; it's actually glowing red. It's insane."

Sen didn't even open his eyes, just idly swinging his crossed legs.

"You don't understand. I'm absorbing the essence of heaven and earth. This is the highest form of cultivation."

Ishikawa took a bite of his food and rolled his eyes hard.

"Keep talking. If you're cultivating, how come you haven't put on an ounce of fat?"

Of course, Ishikawa couldn't see the earth-shattering changes occurring beneath this seemingly ordinary six-year-old shell.

Sen felt the situation inside his body with satisfaction.

The Divine Tree Origin's [Photosynthesis] acted like an untiring super pump.

It continuously converted the scorching sunlight into the purest natural energy, then refined it into chakra.

His meridians, which were originally as shriveled as a small stream, had been forcibly widened into a rushing river after half a month of frantic irrigation.

His chakra capacity was soaring in a straight line at a terrifying speed that no ordinary person could comprehend.

At first, he could still barely estimate it.

From the passing line of a genin to a veteran genin, and then touching the threshold of a chunin.

Now, with just a slight movement of his intent, that substantial, tangible chakra rampaged through his body, as if it might break through his skin at any moment.

This feeling of being about to burst at any time is truly a happy problem.

Sen clicked his tongue in his heart.

Six years old, chunin-level chakra reserves.

If this got out, never mind that so-called genius Kakashi; even that Itachi Uchiha playing with mud next door would probably start questioning his existence.

But instead of feeling proud, he was a little panicked.

The direct consequence of power rising too quickly was that it couldn't be hidden.

The day before yesterday at dinner, he had just been a little excited, and the wooden spoon had been shattered by the chakra he accidentally leaked.

It scared Aunt Li so much that she thought he was having a seizure and nearly took a broom to exorcise him.

To stick to his path of "staying low," he spent all his energy outside of sunbathing on practicing how to hold his breath.

Or, in other words, "concealing his presence."

He tried to compress that ocean-like chakra deep within his dantian, not letting even a sliver leak out.

This task was more exhausting than running five kilometers.

Fortunately, the Divine Tree Origin seemed to know its host's worries.

The system came with a faint shielding function.

Coupled with his "breath-holding training" day and night for the past half-month, as long as he didn't release it actively, to outsiders, he remained a weak, unremarkable combat-five-trash.

"Sen, hurry down and eat. We have to move firewood to the front yard this afternoon."

Ishikawa finished the last of his bun and wiped his mouth.

"If you keep lying there, your bones really will rust."

Sen sat up slowly and stretched his arms wide.

Just as he prepared to jump off the woodpile, the orphanage's old wooden door was pushed open heavily from the outside.

A short old man wearing a grey old-fashioned jacket and reading glasses walked in with his hands behind his back.

This was the orphanage director. He rarely showed his face and only handled the handover of supplies with the higher-ups.

The children in the yard stopped what they were doing and stood up nervously upon seeing him.

The director cleared his throat, pulled a crumpled list from his pocket, and scanned the crowd.

"Sen Senju, are you here?"

The director's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable tone.

Sen, lying on the woodpile, felt his heart skip a beat.

His intuition told him his wonderful paid vacation was likely about to go down the drain.

He sighed, slid slowly down the woodpile, and patted the dust off his backside.

"Director, I'm here. What do you need?"

Sen walked over lazily, his tone devoid of any reverence.

The director pushed up his glasses and looked Sen up and down.

The look in his eyes was like he was inspecting a troublesome piece of cargo about to be offloaded.

"A notification just came down from above. All orphans of age must report to the Konoha Ninja Academy tomorrow morning."

The director shook the list in his hand and pointed to the name at the very top.

"Especially you. As the last... survivor of the Senju clan, the village higher-ups specifically named you to attend school."

As soon as these words were spoken, the courtyard exploded.

Ishikawa's face turned red with excitement, and he grabbed Sen's arm, shaking him.

"Did you hear that, Sen! We're going to be ninjas! We can learn ninjutsu!"

The other children also chattered excitedly, their eyes full of enthusiasm.

In this village that valued power, becoming a ninja was the only way for commoner orphans to turn their lives around.

However, Sen, the person involved, felt a toothache.

He stared at the director with a blank expression, cursing in his heart.

Specifically named?

It was just those higher-ups wanting to see if this lone seedling of the Senju family could produce some kind of ultimate move.

The Konoha Ninja Academy was a place of trouble.

The Nine-Tails jinchuriki, the last survivor of the Uchiha—they were all gathered there.

As a perpetual motion machine who only wanted to sunbathe in peace, could he really have a good life among that bunch of troublemakers?

"Director, can I not go?"

Sen scratched his head, putting on a timid and cowardly act.

"I've been sickly since I was a kid. My legs turn to jelly just seeing a kunai. If I go, I'll just be an embarrassment to the village."

He spoke with such sincerity that he nearly squeezed out a couple of tears.

The director snorted and shoved the list into his pocket.

"Enough nonsense. This is an order from Lord Naruto himself; refusing is insubordination."

He pointed at Sen, his tone turning sterner.

"Meet at the school gate at eight tomorrow morning. If you're one minute late, I'll have Aunt Li cut off your meals for half a month!"

With that, the director walked away with his hands behind his back, not looking back once, leaving behind a resolute silhouette.

Ishikawa watched Sen's face, which looked even worse than if he had bitten into a bitter melon, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Alright, Sen, stop faking it. Who doesn't know you've been running faster than a dog lately? Where are you sickly?"

Ishikawa bumped his shoulder, his face full of longing.

"Once we get to the academy, I'll look after you, and we'll both become great heroes!"

Sen looked at Ishikawa's simple, chubby face and let out a long, helpless sigh.

Heroes?

In this world, there were usually only two endings for a hero: either hanging on the Memorial Stone or being carved into Hokage Rock to be weathered by the wind and sun every day.

He touched his flat stomach, where a massive amount of chakra, comparable to that of a chunin, was sealed.

"It looks like my days of slacking off have come to an end."

Sen lifted his head, looking at the sun that was still glaring overhead.

"Ishikawa, tell me..."

Sen squinted his eyes, his voice so soft it could be blown away by a gust of wind.

"Is there a spot in that broken academy where a guy can comfortably lie down and soak up the sun?"