On his first day at the Ninja Academy, Amamiya Maki made an embarrassing mistake.
But he couldn't be blamed for it.
Who could blame him when father and son looked so alike that even the Uzumaki bloodline couldn't overpower those blond genes?
He entered the classroom and took a window seat in the back row.
A window seat in the back made it easy to observe the whole class-and look outside whenever he didn't feel like listening.
The classroom gradually filled, chatter pouring in from every direction.
Most of it was the awkward, excited small talk of children meeting for the first time.
Minato Namikaze picked him out of the crowd with pinpoint accuracy.
He walked over, sat beside him, and struck up a conversation in fits and starts.
Amamiya Maki answered casually, but his attention stayed on the classroom's front door.
His eyelid twitched when their homeroom teacher walked in.
The man wrote his name on the blackboard, then turned to survey the class.
Junji Ito.
Amamiya Maki's fingers froze against the edge of his desk.
He quickly turned to look out the window.
The sky was blue. No balloons shaped like human heads floated through it.
Then he glanced at the largest group of children in the classroom. No endlessly regenerating monsters there, either.
Whew. Good, good.
There was nothing strange around.
When he heard that introduction, Amamiya Maki had nearly hissed.
But the man at the podium looked like an ordinary middle-aged Chunin.
Fine lines creased the corners of his eyes. His expression was stern, but he didn't look like someone who could summon eldritch horrors.
Maki let out a relieved breath, looked away from the window, and returned his gaze to the name on the blackboard.
Probably just someone with the same name.
The Shinobi World was huge. People named Ito were as plentiful as stray dogs by the roadside. There was no reason to scare himself.
He wasn't particularly interested in the other students' introductions. He merely listened.
Starting from the left side of the front row, they stood one after another to announce their names and dreams.
Most dreamed of becoming Hokage.
A few dreamed of becoming great shinobi.
One child was so nervous he forgot his own name. He stood there struggling for ages before managing to say:
"My name is... my name is..."
The whole class burst out laughing. Junji Ito had to tap the blackboard twice to quiet them down.
Meanwhile, Amamiya Maki was busy designing his persona.
His cheat required him to put others under pressure to earn fragments, but he couldn't attack everyone indiscriminately.
Do that, and he'd soon be treated as a lunatic. He wouldn't even be able to stay at the Ninja Academy.
He needed a believable persona: foul-mouthed, but principled.
He wanted people to think, "This guy has a nasty mouth and likes putting people under pressure."
Not, "Is this guy even human?"
He needed a label.
Not a villain, not a madman-just someone with a sharp tongue who wouldn't genuinely hurt innocent people.
Mouthing off to geniuses was jealousy.
Mouthing off to teachers was rebellion.
Mouthing off to orphans was banter between kindred spirits.
Knowing where to draw the line.
Giving the impression he didn't know where to draw it.
As though he had no sense of boundaries.
Then it was Minato Namikaze's turn.
The blond boy stood with a brilliant smile. "My name is Minato Namikaze. My dream is to earn everyone's acknowledgment and become Hokage."
The classroom barely reacted.
At their age, nine out of ten boys had said those words.
The tenth said, "I'm going to become a shinobi even stronger than the Hokage."
But Amamiya Maki knew this boy meant it-and that he would succeed.
It wasn't the bluster of "I'll definitely become Hokage." It was the sincerity of "I hope to become someone everyone can trust."
Then his own turn came.
Amamiya Maki stood, expressionless. "My name is Amamiya Maki. My dream is to become Hokage."
That was a lie.
He had no particular attachment to the position.
But this was Konoha. Leaving "become Hokage" out of the dreams field would make him look like he didn't fit in.
Not fitting in might earn him a round of Konoha's friendship-flavored bullying.
Of course, fitting in wouldn't help much, either.
Everyone could enjoy their own personal torment in Konoha.
Minato Namikaze turned to look at him.
Amamiya Maki knew that look well. It was the delight of "You want to be Hokage too? That's great! We can work toward it together!"
He tugged up the corners of his mouth, offering the friendliest smile he could manage.
Minato turned back, but the light in his blue eyes hadn't faded.
The morning was devoted to theory lessons.
After they handed out the textbook, Stories of the Hokage Through the Ages, Amamiya Maki casually flipped through a few pages.
Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi took up most of the book.
From the First's founding of Konoha to his own succession and heroic rescue of the village.
Every page hinted at one simple truth.
Without the Third, the new Konoha wouldn't be what it was today.
The other Hokage's sections combined were probably only half as long as his.
The First founded the village, the Second established its laws, and the Third preserved their legacy.
The one preserving the legacy usually had the greatest talent for writing.
Amamiya Maki gave an ambiguous snort.
Their theory teacher, Ishida Yū, a middle-aged man with round glasses, stopped writing on the board and turned to ask whether he had a question.
"No. I just think Lord Third is truly great, unlike certain people who hide in the shadows, do nothing, and still love telling everyone else what to do."
[Detected: Host indirectly inflicted mental pressure on "Shimura Danzō."] [Pressure +5]
Amamiya Maki froze.
Even that counted as indirect pressure?
He immediately realized that the old bastard Danzo was probably monitoring the academy through Root.
This was a talent pool. There was no way it was completely sealed off.
His remark hadn't singled anyone out.
But those in the know would naturally fit it to the appropriate person.
For someone as paranoid as Danzo, even a dog barking by the roadside had to be recorded by Root.
Lunchtime arrived.
Minato Namikaze turned around from the row in front, holding a lunch box.
The lid was already open. The food inside wasn't lavish.
But there was meat and vegetables, with small triangular rice balls neatly arranged along one side.
The aroma of rice drifted over, mingled with the scent of soy sauce.
"I made this lunch myself. Would you like to try some, Maki?"
Amamiya Maki looked at the lunch box, then at Minato.
The future Yellow Flash was enthusiastically holding up a homemade lunch and asking whether he wanted some.
But why the hell are you blushing?!
"Really? Thanks, then. I happened to forget my lunch today."
He picked up his chopsticks and took a piece of rolled omelet.
It was sweet, with the egg cooked just right. The sweetness didn't overwhelm its flavor.
Minato was a much better cook than he'd expected.
"But..." He swallowed, his tone as casual as if he were asking about the weather.
"You can cook at such a young age. Is that because there's nobody left at home to cook for you?"
Minato Namikaze's hand paused.
[Detected: Host inflicted mental pressure on "Minato Namikaze."] [Pressure +30] [Obtained: Wind-nature chakra fragments ×5, Body Flicker Technique fragments ×5, Flying Thunder God (Spatial Perception) fragment ×1.]
Amamiya Maki nearly bit through his chopsticks.
Flying Thunder God.
The core of the Shinobi World's greatest speed.
He'd barely said a dozen words, and the system had thrown a Flying Thunder God fragment right in his face.
It was only Spatial Perception, and he was still more than two thousand fragments away from the real Flying Thunder God.
But sure, you're right. Still, this is Flying Thunder God.
Technique marks could be left anywhere across the battlefield.
Instant travel without distance limits. Advance, retreat, or instantly evade any attack.
Raise a hand and blink into an ambush; turn around and leave the battlefield. Once inscribed, the marks lasted forever, letting the user switch positions whenever and however he pleased.
It could finish enemies with surprise attacks or preserve the user's life at the last possible moment, covering offense and defense at any range.
Space-Time Ninjutsu offered unmatched hit-and-run tactics, without an opening anyone could exploit.
Minato lowered his head without speaking, but his smile didn't diminish at all.
Amamiya Maki realized that this little ray of sunshine wasn't incapable of feeling hurt.
He simply didn't say anything when he did.
"I'm not saying that to mock you. I'm an orphan too."
"We orphans aren't like other people. There's nobody to shelter us from the storms."
"If you want to become Hokage, you have to work harder than everyone else. You're already starting further behind."
[Detected: Host inflicted mental pressure on "Minato Namikaze."] [Pressure +20] [Obtained: Body Flicker Technique fragment ×1.]
Minato's smile gradually faded.
He wasn't angry. He was thinking about Amamiya Maki's words.
Then he smiled again, more sincerely than before.
"Thank you, Maki."
Amamiya Maki waved a hand and shifted his attention to the food left in the lunch box.
As he ate, he mentally tallied his gains.
He'd accumulated six Body Flicker Technique fragments and five wind-nature chakra fragments.
And, most importantly, that one Flying Thunder God Spatial Perception fragment.
A single fragment's effect was minuscule.
The distance between one grain of rice and a bowlful was smaller than the distance between this fragment and the complete Flying Thunder God.
But this was Flying Thunder God. Even one fragment was enough to keep him tossing and turning in bed that night, savoring the thought.
The afternoon was devoted to practical training.
Ishida Yū led the students to the field and told them to run ten laps. The first ten to finish would receive rewards.
Amamiya Maki loosened his ankles.
The sun overhead had warmed the track, and the air smelled of grass clippings mixed with earth.
Chakra reinforcement made him considerably fitter than the children who hadn't begun training yet, but he couldn't stand out too much.
He needed to put pressure on others, not be labeled a genius.
He ran at an unhurried pace in the middle of the pack, staying around fifth place for the first three laps.
Ahead of him were children who were fast runners or fairly good at Taijutsu. Minato Namikaze was in first place, his steps impossibly light.
One look told Maki he was always putting in extra work.
Every footfall on the track was so light he seemed to be stepping on the wind.
The first three laps passed, then the fourth.
On the fifth lap, some began falling behind.
Several children who had sprinted too hard at the start were visibly struggling for breath, clutching their stomachs and bending over beside the track.
Amamiya Maki's breathing remained steady. He picked up the pace.
He overtook fourth place, then third, settling into a steady pace right behind Minato Namikaze.
Minato noticed the movement behind him and glanced back.
Amamiya Maki grinned. "What's wrong, future Lord Hokage? Afraid I'll catch up?"
[Detected: host has caused psychological pressure to "Minato Namikaze"] [Pressure points +15] [Obtained: Body Flicker Technique fragments ×2.]
Minato's eyes lit up. "Want to race?"
They accelerated at the same time, leaving the fourth-place runner far behind.
The wind swept across the track, stirring up a few dead leaves fallen from the plane trees beside the field.
Amamiya Maki could hear his heartbeat alternating with Minato's footsteps.
In the end, Minato came first, and he came second.
Ishida Yū walked over, holding a clipboard with everyone's results recorded on it.
He looked at Amamiya Maki with some surprise.
"You're in good shape."
"I'm all right," Amamiya Maki said, panting.
"It's just that I can't catch up to certain geniuses. Really puts the pressure on."
[Detected: host has caused psychological pressure to "Minato Namikaze"] [Pressure points +10] [Obtained: Body Flicker Technique fragments ×1]
Minato Namikaze smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll race again next time!"
Amamiya Maki looked at that beaming face and raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
His nonexistent conscience seemed to give a little twinge.
But in this world, good people didn't live long.
Better to be a troublemaker than one of the loyal masses.
All offense, no defense.
Before you continue