Konoha Ninja Academy.
By the time Reiji arrived at the school gate, the other children had already gone inside.
The warm morning sun filtered through the green canopy, casting dappled light across the ground in a scene of calm and quiet.
Standing at the gate was a middle-aged ninja in a green vest, straight-backed and scribbling something into a small notebook.
When he noticed Reiji approaching, he blinked in surprise, then strode over.
"Reiji Sakuhō?" he asked, glancing at his notebook with a slight frown.
Reiji nodded.
The man snapped his notebook shut with a crisp motion and spoke quickly.
"I'm Nakaryū Ōzora—you can call me Ōzora-sensei. Now then, Reiji-kun, follow me!"
With that, he turned and headed briskly into the academy. Reiji picked up his pace to keep up.
Ōzora, still moving, reopened his notebook and began reading aloud in a clear, measured tone.
"Reiji Sakuhō. Orphan. From the Land of Hot Water. Arrived in Konoha just over half a month ago with a merchant caravan."
Reiji nodded along.
"I have a general understanding of your background. Now let's go over the academy rules.
The Ninja Academy was founded by Tobirama-sama, the Second Hokage. It serves as the foundational training ground for all Konoha ninja.
Here, you'll learn about the Will of Fire, the Three Basic Jutsu, and everything else a rookie needs to survive."
He paused to clear his throat.
"Ahem. Since this is your first day, I'll let you off the hook from copying the Will of Fire—but listen carefully. Classes start at 9 a.m. and end at 3 p.m.
There are two morning sessions and one in the afternoon.
Subjects include history, theory, and practical lessons.
..."
As Ōzora rattled on, Reiji quietly rose onto his toes and snuck a peek at the notebook in his hand.
Damn, the writing was packed tighter than rice grains. Was this guy actually serious about his job? Unlike Mizukuma?
But Reiji had no chemistry with people this straight-laced.
In one ear, out the other—he yawned and trudged along beside Ōzora-sensei.
Before long, they crossed the open space in front of the school, passed the swing set that would one day become the Protagonist's favorite, and entered a small three-story building.
"The first floor is for first and sixth grades.
The second floor is for second and third.
The third floor is for fourth and fifth."
"Ōzora-sensei, what grade am I in?"
Reiji had no idea how Hiruzen Sarutobi had arranged things. Judging by his experience, he figured he'd be put in first grade.
But by age, he was already qualified for second.
Ōzora's expression shifted oddly at the question. Instead of answering right away, he asked,
"Reiji-kun, do you have any relatives among the village leadership?"
"No." Reiji shook his head honestly.
"Did you receive any basic ninja training before this?"
Reiji froze for a second.
Had Hiruzen Sarutobi told this guy something? No—impossible. Information about Konoha's infiltration of Amegakure was top secret. There was no way the higher-ups would share it with an ordinary academy teacher.
With that thought, Reiji gave a wry smile and shook his head.
Ōzora's expression grew even more puzzled.
"Then this is really strange. Why would the higher-ups place a student with no foundation directly into second grade?"
Reiji couldn't help but feel a little pleased.
Being in second grade meant one less year stuck in a school full of brats. That, at least, was a win.
Muttering to himself, Ōzora led Reiji up the stairs to the second floor.
There weren't many students who made it into the ninja track, so each grade only had a single class.
Which meant that, aside from the teachers' office, each floor had just two large lecture-style classrooms.
They reached the second floor, and Ōzora led him into a room right next to the stairs.
The classroom was empty, with books, paper, pens, and scrolls still scattered on the desks—clearly, the students had just left.
Ōzora kept rambling on about academy rules like every second mattered, while Reiji pressed his hand to his forehead, already nursing a headache.
"Ōzora-sensei, where are the other students?"
Annoyed at being interrupted, Nakaryū Ōzora shot Reiji an irritated look and replied curtly, "This period is a practical class. Everyone's out back on the training field."
"Then... do I need to go to class too, Ōzora-sensei?"
This guy talked way too much. In just a few minutes, Reiji already felt like tearing out his intestines and choking him with them.
"You can, but from the school gate till now, you've asked five questions and interrupted me seven times. So now, I'm going to waste five minutes of your time."
He opened his notebook and started reading again, completely unfazed.
Reiji rolled his eyes, rubbed his forehead, and picked a seat at random.
Now he finally understood why Sun Wukong smacked Tang Sanzang to death with a staff. This kind of nonstop lecturing was worse than being sliced apart.
For a moment, it felt like he'd been thrown back to his previous life, stuck in a classroom.
It felt like an eternity had passed before Nakaryū Ōzora's thin lips finally stopped moving. The world fell silent.
Reiji stood up, a little excited, and said,
"Ōzora-sensei, let's hurry to the training field. I can't wait to meet my dear classmates."
Nakaryū Ōzora gave a satisfied nod.
Even though the kid kept interrupting, even though he had somehow skipped from first grade to second without explanation, even though he was late on his first day—as long as he could get along with his classmates, that made him a good student.
With that in mind, Ōzora waved him over and pointed to a seat in the far back corner.
"Reiji-kun, there are no other open seats in the classroom right now, so you'll have to sit there for the time being."
Reiji looked and instantly brightened up, nodding enthusiastically like a pecking chick.
A seat in the corner—perfect! He could nap when bored, and if he couldn't sleep, he'd just stare out the window. It was practically tailor-made for someone like him, here just to kill time.
Once the seat was settled, Ōzora led Reiji out of the school building.
...
Behind it, a wide-open training field was bustling. Under the guidance of two ninjas, groups of children were paired off and throwing punches and kicks at each other.
Even though they were all just seven or eight years old, their movements were surprisingly coordinated—well-timed attacks and smooth retreats.
The air was filled with high-pitched "ha!"s and "hup!"s as the kids sparred.
Two instructors in green vests moved through the groups, constantly correcting their stances and movements.
Reiji, who had felt a flicker of curiosity at first, quickly lost interest.
How to put it... It was textbook ninja-style fighting—blocks and dodges, very disciplined—but there was none of that raw, bone-crunching impact he enjoyed. Compared to this, Reiji still preferred the no-holds-barred Taijutsu of Kumogakure.
Big moves, heavy hits—now that was satisfying.
Nearby, a black-haired boy was pinning a silver-haired boy to the ground.
What caught Reiji's eye was that the silver-haired kid still thrashed around fiercely, even while being held down—arms and legs flailing in defiance.
The boy on top had one hand around his opponent's neck, grinning with such arrogance it made Reiji want to punch him himself.
Reiji's gaze swept over them, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.
"Well, well... a nasty little brat from the Uchiha clan."