Sen shifted his right foot on the patch of dirt, discreetly grinding it into the ground.
Only after he was sure the deadwood and its new shoots were buried deep beneath the soil did he finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Having finished covering up the evidence, he nervously glanced around.
In the distance, Aunt Li was walking back, panting heavily as she rubbed her barrel-shaped waist and grumbled under her breath.
A few orphans sweeping the yard were also keeping their heads down and working. Not one of them glanced toward this corner.
"That was close. I almost got turned into a corpse."
Sen patted his chest, drenched in a cold sweat.
This was real Wood Release. If anyone had seen it, his six-year-old body would be lying on a Root dissection table tomorrow.
He turned to look at Ishikawa, who was still fanning the air with his hand, his face full of disgust.
"Enough. Stop fanning. The smell's gone."
"Sen, you really need to get your head checked at the infirmary today," Ishikawa muttered, unconvinced.
"Growing leaves? What are you, a tree?"
Sen didn't argue. He just stretched, his bones cracking a few times.
"Who knows? Maybe in my last life, I was a big tree that gave people shade."
He yawned, laced his hands behind his head, and sauntered toward the other end of the yard with a swagger that said he didn't care what anyone thought.
"Where are you going now? Aren't you pulling weeds?" Ishikawa called after him.
"Why bother with weeds? It's such a nice sunny day. I need to hurry and claim a good spot in the back courtyard."
For the next half month, Sen's life became incredibly routine and utterly uneventful.
Everyone at the orphanage, from the caretakers to the other children, noticed something strange.
Sen Senju, who used to look sickly and could barely walk straight, had become a complete couch potato.
His only daily activity was searching the whole yard for sunlight like a sunflower.
In the morning, he lay on a haystack atop the back courtyard wall.
At noon, he sprawled between a few broken roof tiles.
In the afternoon, he moved to the firewood pile behind the kitchen.
Wherever the sun shone directly, he was sure to be there, as immovable as ever.
"Sen, aren't you worried you'll peel after sunbathing every day?"
At lunchtime, Ishikawa crouched beside the firewood pile, holding a chipped porcelain bowl.
It contained a few sad-looking greens and half a coarse-grain bun.
He watched Sen lying on his back atop the woodpile, eyes closed as he basked in the sun, and couldn't help taking a jab at him.
"You've been sunbathing for half a month. Your face hasn't gotten any darker—in fact, you're glowing. It's downright spooky."
Sen didn't even open his eyes. He simply swung his raised leg back and forth.
"You don't understand. I'm absorbing the essence of heaven and earth. It's the most profound form of training."
Ishikawa took a bite of his food and rolled his eyes.
"Sure, keep telling yourself that. How come you haven't put on even a couple ounces of muscle?"
Of course, Ishikawa couldn't see the earth-shaking changes taking place beneath Sen's seemingly ordinary six-year-old exterior.
Sen contentedly felt out the state of his body.
The Divine Tree Origin's [Photosynthesis] was like an inexhaustible super pump.
It endlessly converted the scorching sunlight into the purest Natural Energy, then refined it into chakra.
His meridians, once as depleted as a tiny stream,
had been forcefully widened into a surging river after half a month of relentless nourishment.
The capacity of his chakra was skyrocketing at a terrifying rate no ordinary person could comprehend.
At first, he could still make a rough estimate.
From the Genin passing mark to an experienced Genin, then up to the threshold of Chunin.
But now, all it took was the slightest thought.
His almost tangible chakra would surge through his body, as if it might burst out of him at any moment.
"This feeling of being on the verge of bursting is such a happy problem."
Sen clicked his tongue inwardly.
Six years old, with Chunin-level chakra reserves.
If word got out, not only would Kakashi, the so-called genius, be outdone,
but even Itachi Uchiha next door, who was still playing in the dirt, would probably question his whole life.
But rather than feeling proud, Sen was a little panicked.
His power was growing too fast, and the immediate consequence was that he couldn't hide it.
At dinner two days ago, he'd gotten a little excited.
The wooden spoon had shattered from the chakra he accidentally let leak out.
Aunt Li had been so frightened that she thought he was having a seizure and nearly tried to drive out evil spirits with a broom.
To stick to his "lie-low philosophy,"
he spent all his time apart from sunbathing practicing how to hold his breath.
In other words, he was learning to "conceal his presence."
He tried to compress the chakra within him, vast as an ocean, deep inside his core.
He wouldn't let a single drop leak out.
It was more exhausting than making him run five kilometers.
Fortunately, the Divine Tree Origin seemed to understand its host's concerns.
The system came with a faint concealment function.
Combined with half a month of relentless "breath-holding training,"
as long as he didn't release his chakra on purpose, other people would still see him as a weak, unremarkable nobody.
"Sen, hurry up and come down to eat. You still have to move firewood in the front yard this afternoon."
Ishikawa finished the last bite of his bun and wiped his mouth.
"If you keep lying around, your bones really will rust."
Sen slowly sat up and stretched with a huge yawn.
Just as he was about to jump down from the woodpile,
someone shoved open the orphanage's battered wooden gate from outside.
A short old man in a faded gray jacket and spectacles came in with his hands clasped behind his back.
He was the orphanage director. He rarely showed his face, usually only handling the arrangements for supplies with the people above.
When the children saw the director, they stopped working and nervously stood up.
The director cleared his throat, pulled a wrinkled list from his pocket, and scanned the crowd.
"Is Sen Senju here?"
The director's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.
Sen, sprawled on the woodpile, felt his heart give a thump.
His instincts told him his wonderful paid vacation was probably about to end.
He sighed, slid slowly down the woodpile, and dusted off his backside.
"Director, I'm over here. What do you need?"
Sen strolled over lazily, not a trace of respect in his voice.
The director pushed up his spectacles and looked Sen up and down.
He looked at him like a troublesome piece of merchandise that was about to be shipped off.
"The latest order from above just came in. All orphans old enough to enroll have to report to the Konoha Ninja Academy tomorrow morning."
The director shook the list in his hand and pointed to the name at the top.
"Especially you. As the last surviving orphan of the Senju Clan, the village leadership specifically requested that you attend."
The yard erupted at once.
Ishikawa's face flushed with excitement. He grabbed Sen's arm and shook it wildly.
"Did you hear that, Sen? We're going to become ninja! We'll get to learn jutsu!"
The other children began chattering excitedly, their eyes shining.
In a village that revered strength, becoming a ninja was the only way for an orphaned civilian to change their lot in life.
But Sen, the person at the center of it all, felt a twinge of dread.
He stared at the director expressionlessly, cursing inwardly.
Specifically requested?
The higher-ups just wanted to see if the last branch of the Senju Clan could manage to produce any impressive tricks.
The Konoha Ninja Academy was a den of trouble.
The Nine-Tails Jinchuriki and the last orphan of the Uchiha were both there.
What kind of life could an endlessly running machine who only wanted to sunbathe have, surrounded by a bunch of troublemakers?
"Director, can I not go?"
Sen scratched his head, putting on a timid, helpless act.
"I've been frail since I was little. My legs turn to jelly when I see a Kunai. I'd only embarrass the village if I went."
He sounded so sincere that he was practically squeezing out a couple of tears.
The director snorted and tucked the list back into his pocket.
"Enough nonsense. This is Lord Hokage's order. Refusing would be insubordination."
He pointed at Sen, his tone growing sterner.
"Tomorrow morning at eight, meet at the school gate. 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, never looking back. His departing figure was resolute.
Ishikawa watched Sen's face, which looked worse than if he'd eaten bitter melon, and couldn't help laughing.
"Come on, Sen, quit pretending. Everyone knows you've been running faster than a dog lately. Since when were you frail?"
Ishikawa bumped his shoulder, his face full of anticipation.
"Once we get to school, I'll protect you. We'll become great heroes together!"
Sen looked at Ishikawa's innocent, chubby face and let out a long, helpless sigh.
Heroes?
In this world, heroes usually met one of two fates: either they ended up on the Memorial Stone or got carved into Kage Rock, where they'd be exposed to the wind and sun every day.
He patted his flat stomach, where a huge amount of chakra comparable to a Chunin's was sealed.
"Looks like my days of slacking off are over."
Sen looked up at the sun, still glaring down overhead.
"Ishikawa, tell me..."
Sen narrowed his eyes, his voice so soft it could have been carried away by a breeze.
"Do you think there'll be an empty spot at that lousy school where I can lie down and sunbathe in peace?"
Before you continue