Inheritor of the Will of Tyranny

Year 42 of Konoha, Ninja Academy.

The bulletin board at the entrance was a hub of bustling noise. Every year, this period marked the branching of destinies for Konoha's eligible children. Gaining entry into the Ninja Academy meant having one foot across the threshold of the shinobi path, serving as the first hurdle for commoner Ninja to rise in status.

Countless parents brought their children, their gazes locked firmly onto the list of new arrivals. Some slumped in despair, while others cheered with joy.

The most conspicuous among them was a pair of father and son, wearing identical, ridiculous green spandex and bowl cuts. The son sat atop his father's shoulders, his finger pressed against the bulletin board, carefully checking name by name in an effort to find himself on it.

Only, his tone grew increasingly frantic, carrying a hint of a sob, "Might Guy, Might Guy, it's not there, it's not there!"

After a long moment, the son pressed both hands against the bulletin board, lowering his head as tears gushed forth and dripped onto his father's face, "It's not there! My name isn't on it at all, Dad!"

The father beneath him offered words of comfort, "Keep looking, Might Guy. You've already tried your absolute best, and your hard work won't be let down."

Nara Tsukimi, standing in the shade of a tree, watched this scene with a trace of mixed emotion in the depths of his eyes. Aside from enrolling today, he had also wanted to catch a glimpse of the future Might Guy.

Who would have thought that this ridiculous bowl cut who couldn't even pass the Ninja Academy entrance exams would one day kick Six Paths Madara to pieces, recognized by the Ghostly Dance King as the strongest taijutsu user.

Of course, there were also these anime-style tears. When watching Naruto in his past life, he had thought them exaggerated, but seeing them for real now, he realized reality was even more absurd.

After satisfying his curiosity, Nara Tsukimi walked into the school, preparing to handle his enrollment procedures.

Tsukimi had been in the shinobi world for two years now. At the start of his transmigration, the original body was just a four-year-old kid, and his parents had also sacrificed their lives on the battlefield. Fortunately, thanks to the care of his older cousin Nara Shikaku, no one had dared to skim off his survivor benefits and savings, and he was living a rather decent life.

As a member of the Nara, the original body's talent was quite good. He succeeded on his very first attempt to refine Chakra, and even Shikaku praised him upon seeing it.

My younger brother Tsukimi possesses the makings of a Jonin!

Yet, after understanding the specific timeline, he could no longer smile.

Tsukimi discovered that he was in the same cohort as Kakashi and Obito. This meant that the Third Shinobi World War—a meat grinder of a conflict that would erupt a few years later—was something he too would have to fight in.

In a war like that, the makings of a Jonin were worth squat, to say nothing of future disasters like the Nine-Tails' Attack, the Konoha Crush, and Pain's Assault, with various divine entities showing up one after another.

Being a Ninja before the Third War was a job not even a dog would take!

Then he was threatened by Nara Shikaku, who intended to reclaim all his savings under the guise of his guardian, demanding that he must go to school.

Well played!

Tsukimi had no choice but to begrudgingly attend the entrance exam, yet he straight-up tanked his performance during the test, with results so bad even he couldn't bear to look at them.

He originally thought everything was settled, and then—there was no then, as he had simply been enrolled all sparkly and bright.

Could you pull strings to get into the Ninja Academy? That wasn't right!

I ask the celestial palaces in the heavens, I know not what year or month this reunion might be...

After finishing all the enrollment procedures, Tsukimi hummed a tune as he walked out of the school. The time was already dusk, and the setting sun dipped low, dyeing the entire horizon in Kurenai.

The stream of people at the school gate had long since dispersed, leaving only Might Guy and his father still standing steadfast before the bulletin board, unwilling to leave for a long time.

Not far away, three youths clearly a full head taller than Might Guy blocked their path with mocking expressions.

Harsh, sarcastic words clearly reached Tsukimi's ears.

"A loser who can't even learn Ninjutsu still wants to be a Ninja? It's an absolute joke."

"Hahaha, and there's his old man, a perpetual Genin. Father and son truly are cut from the same cloth."

"Are you even worthy of being a Ninja? Get lost from here right now and stop being an eyesore!"

Tsukimi had to admit he had failed to keep a straight face. As expected of Konoha's long-inherited specialty, the Will of Tyranny! Seen today, it lived up to its reputation—truly a bunch of bullying, overbearing commoners!

Tsukimi looked at them with a disdainful expression. The three senior students seemed to sense something, turning their gazes to land on him.

"Hey, brat, what's with that look? Looking down on us? Do you even know what respect for upperclassmen means?"

"I remember him. Someone dropped him off on the day of the entrance exam. Seems like he's the Nara family brat."

"What, seeing us teach a loser a lesson, you want to stand up for him?"

"I heard the Nara clan only knows soft, squishy shadow techniques with not an ounce of offensive power. It's just right for us sixth-year seniors to teach you a lesson!"

Seemingly stung in their pride by Tsukimi's disdain, the three turned fierce-eyed, abandoning Might Guy and his father entirely to close in on Tsukimi from all sides.

Tsukimi did not panic too excessively. Although at the start of his transmigration, once the timeline was confirmed, he had no intention of becoming a Ninja, he had not wasted the past two years. The necessary training was still carried out, and he hadn't missed out on the clan's secret medicinal tonics.

After all, the Shinobi World was no peaceful place, and raising his strength for self-preservation was quite necessary.

That said, he was only six years old, and the three opponents across from him were all sixth-year students. Having undergone the academy's systematic training, they surpassed him in physical strength, basic taijutsu, and combat experience alike.

Tsukimi calculated in his mind that he had to strike first, taking advantage of their lack of preparedness to deal with one!

Yet the three senior students gave him no chance to make the opening move, directly uniting to encircle and block him.

Oh come on, no martial ethics whatsoever, huh?

The three divided their labor clearly. One launched a physical punch from the front, another circled to his left to block his path, and the last flanked his rear, their coordination extremely practiced.

Tsukimi mobilized his chakra at the very first instant, attempting to use the Shadow Imitation Technique, but the student in front saw right through his intent, abruptly accelerating his stride forward to afford him zero opportunity to weave hand signs.

Tch, Ninjutsu hand signs were still too troublesome.

Tsukimi had no choice but to drop his hands, dodging hastily to the right. Taking advantage of the frontal attacker missing his punch while the left-side assault had yet to arrive, he bent backward swiftly, using his diminutive height to evade the blow from the person behind him.

Gathering his focus, he threw a punch!

Channeling the strength of his entire body, he slammed a single fist into the abdomen of the person behind him.

"Ugh!"

A muffled grunt rang out. The person behind took a heavy strike to the belly, his body immediately folding into the shape of a boiled shrimp while his right arm hung down limply.

However, before Tsukimi could even breathe a sigh of relief, the attacks of the remaining two arrived back-to-back, heavy fists and kicks landing continuously upon his body.

His arm and back took consecutive heavy blows, pain spreading across his entire body in an instant. He gritted his teeth to endure it, twisting his torso in an attempt to break free from the encirclement first, but the two remaining pressed forward step by step, affording him no openings.

Finally, the frontal student delivered a charged kick. Tsukimi could only cross his arms to take the blow head-on.

Bang!

Tremendous force traveled through his arms, causing Tsukimi to stagger back heavily a couple of steps. His back slammed hard against the wall, and amidst a churning sensation in his chest, even his breathing turned sluggish.

The sixth-year student who had taken Tsukimi's punch had recovered his breath by now, standing back up. The three cornered him, looking at him mockingly with eyes filled with contempt.