The Beginning of the Story

The late-summer wind swept dust from the playground and the fragrance of camphor trees over the temporary wooden platform erected at the Ninja Academy. The Third Hokage stood at its center in his ceremonial robe, several solemn-faced jonin instructors lined up beside him. Below stood graduates in brand-new dark blue uniforms, their noise brimming with the excitement and hope of youth.

Uchiha Rin stood in the last row, his back ramrod straight. The cuffs of his faded old jacket were frayed, and its collar still bore stitches he had sewn himself under streetlights. The crisp uniforms around him formed a neat sea of dark blue. He was like a stone sunk beneath the water, quietly embedded in the crowd—out of place, yet entirely unconcerned.

The Third Hokage's old, weighty voice carried across the playground through the loudspeakers. It was nothing more than expectations and encouragement, reduced to vague background noise in Rin's ears. His fingertips unconsciously rubbed the seam of his trousers as he calculated how much his first D-rank mission after graduation would pay—whether it would be enough for a bag of brown rice and two boards to patch the leaking roof.

He only raised his eyes when the class assignments began to be announced.

"Team 7: Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Haruno, Uchiha Rin. Jonin instructor: Kakashi Hatake."

The moment the names were announced, hushed whispers rose around him. Some said Kakashi Hatake was a genius who had become a jonin at a young age, the famous Copy Ninja. Others curled their lips and said he was always late for missions and so laid-back it was absurd.

Uchiha Rin lowered his gaze, showing no change in expression.

Genius or slacker, to an orphan who had grown up fighting for survival in slum alleys, such titles were as light as the wind. Graduating smoothly and receiving a ninja headband meant holding the means to survive—no more waiting for limited relief rations, no more fighting over expired rice balls outside convenience stores, no more shivering beneath bridges on rainy days. That was enough.

The crowd dispersed with a buzz, calls between friends loud enough to make his ears ache. He followed the stream toward the school building, not walking quickly but steadily avoiding every collision—an ability honed over years in crowded relief lines.

Team 7's classroom was at the far end of the third floor. When he pushed the door open, it creaked softly. Someone was already inside: a blond boy with spiky hair lay sprawled over his desk, idly spinning a pencil. At the sound, he immediately looked up, and his eyes lit up when he saw Rin. Grinning broadly, he said, "Yo! Are you in Team 7 too? I'm Naruto Uzumaki!"

Uchiha Rin gave an "Mm," nodded in acknowledgment, and went to sit near the door in the back row—a spot that gave him a clear view of both the entrance and the window, a long-standing habit of choosing the safest position. Naruto seemed to want to say more, but seeing that Rin had no interest in responding, he scratched his head and flopped back down.

Outside, the wind rustled the leaves. Sunlight filtered through the window lattice, casting mottled shadows across the floor. Rin pressed his fingertips to his brow and quietly suppressed a faint restlessness within him—the dark chakra hidden deep in his meridians always stirred whenever he was in a crowded, noisy place. He could only barely restrain it with methods he had figured out over the years.

About ten minutes later, the classroom door opened again. A girl with a short ponytail entered with books in her arms. Her features were delicate, and upon seeing them, she gave a small bow. Her voice was bright and polite. "Hello, I'm Sakura Haruno. Please take care of me." With that, she went to sit by the window, her back perfectly straight.

Naruto instantly perked up and hurried over to talk to her, unable to hide his excitement. Leaning back in his chair, Uchiha Rin gave them a brief, indifferent glance before looking away. He could tell that the blond boy liked the girl quite a bit, while her responses remained polite and distant, carrying a trace of barely perceptible perfunctoriness.

He had no interest in getting involved in the concerns of teenagers, so he simply closed his eyes to rest.

The clock on the wall ticked away. The scheduled meeting time had long since passed, yet there was still no sign of their instructor.

At first, Naruto fidgeted and rocked his chair. Later, he simply collapsed onto his desk and wailed, "What's going on—why isn't he here yet?!" Sakura kept glancing toward the door as well, her brows slightly furrowed while her fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her uniform.

Uchiha Rin remained leaned back in his chair, his breathing even. He did not even lift his eyelids.

This kind of waiting was child's play. Relief food in the slums was handed out once a week, and the line could stretch from one end of an alley to the other. If the person in charge was late, standing there for three or four hours was nothing unusual. Late was always better than never. Patience had always been a skill forged by hunger. He even used the time to go over the hand seal sequence for the Three Basic Techniques in his mind, refining the transitions between each movement once more.

Nearly two full hours passed before the classroom door was slowly pushed open.

A silver-haired man leaned against the doorframe, his left eye mostly covered by his headband. He held an orange-covered book in one hand, his tone languid and casual. "Ah, sorry. I got lost on the way."

He walked in and leaned against the teacher's desk, sweeping his gaze over the three of them. His trailing tone was careless. "How should I put this? My first impression of you all... is that you're pretty boring."

"Huh?!" Naruto exploded on the spot, slamming his hands on the desk as he stood. "You were almost two hours late! And you're calling us boring?!"

Sakura pressed her lips together, clear dissatisfaction showing on her face as well.

Uchiha Rin looked up at Kakashi Hatake. His gaze lingered briefly on the headband covering the man's eye and his hanging silver hair before quickly withdrawing. He neither argued nor agreed, merely waited quietly for what came next—being late was only a surface impression. A jonin personally assigned by the Third Hokage could not truly be nothing more than a careless man.

Kakashi completely ignored Naruto's protest. He took two bronze bells from his ninja tool pouch and weighed them on his fingertips. "Tomorrow morning at five, gather at Training Ground Seven. I've prepared a survival exercise for you. The rules are simple: before noon, take these two bells from me."

He paused. His tone remained light, but it carried an unquestionable chill. "Anyone who fails to get one is not qualified to become a ninja and will return to the academy for remedial training."

With that, he turned and headed for the door. When his hand rested on the handle, he paused again and added without looking back, "Oh, and bring your own ninja tools for the exercise. Don't expect me to lend you any."

The wooden door clicked shut. The classroom stayed quiet for several seconds before Naruto's complaints filled it. "What kind of person is this?! He's deliberately making things difficult!" He angrily kicked a desk leg and turned to seek agreement from Uchiha Rin, only to find that Rin had already stood.

Uchiha Rin ignored his grumbling and headed straight for the door.

The corridor was awash in the orange-red glow of sunset, dyeing the walls and floor in warm hues. He reached into his pocket and touched several coins pressing into his palm, cool despite their warmth from his body—money he had saved for half a month. He had planned to use it that weekend to buy half a bag of brown rice and a small bag of pickled radish, enough to last him most of the month.

Now, it seemed he would have to make a trip to the ninja tool shop first.

Kunai, shuriken, at least three of each, and a roll of bandages. He quickly calculated the costs in his mind, his fingers tightening around the coins.

Outside the window, the sun hung low, stretching his shadow long behind him.

He did not know whether tomorrow's exercise would be a gate to life or death. But he knew very well that from the orphanage to the slums, from fighting over leftovers to learning ninjutsu, he had never had a path of retreat.

He had to pass this test.