Tanako looked at her mother earnestly.
"That's why I said he's mysterious, Mom. Before the team assignments, I didn't even know he existed — and it wasn't just me. No one ever noticed him."
Senju Mei's expression turned thoughtful.
"You said he's strong. How can you tell?"
Though not a ninja herself, Mei had grown up within the Senju clan. She could read between the lines of battle reports, recognize hidden power from small details.
Tanako hesitated, recalling the day's "test."
"After we were assigned to our new teams, our instructor gave us a kind of… mental trial. It was a genjutsu — a powerful one. Itsuki and I almost broke under it. It felt like our minds were shattering."
Her voice dropped.
"But Arata… he wasn't affected. At all."
She swallowed, remembering the crushing pressure that had nearly suffocated her.
"The teacher later said the illusion's full force was focused on Arata — what we felt was only the aftershock. But even so, he stood there like nothing happened. It shocked our sensei. Even Asuma-sensei didn't believe it when we told him."
As Tanako spoke, Mei's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
By the end, she was silent for a long moment.
Then she exhaled softly.
"That… is no small thing."
Her tone had shifted — the calm of a mother giving way to the calculation of a Senju.
"If what you're saying is true, then that boy's spiritual strength is far beyond ordinary levels."
She clasped her hands lightly.
"Your teacher was once in the Anbu. An Anbu jōnin's killing intent alone can break most chūnin mentally. If his illusion didn't affect this Arata, it can only mean one thing — his mental fortitude, and his chakra control, are both extraordinary."
Her eyes grew sharp.
"To resist a genjutsu of that level, he'd need immense chakra reserves and precise control — both. Without both, the illusion would have torn his mind apart."
She looked down, voice low.
"This isn't just rare, Tanako. It's abnormal."
Even Tanako felt a chill.
Until now, she'd only admired Arata's calm strength — she hadn't realized how truly unnatural it was.
"Mom… does that mean Arata is really that powerful?"
Mei's expression softened slightly.
"It's too soon to say for certain. But if he is what you describe, then yes — his future won't be ordinary. Not even the most gifted graduates can withstand an Anbu jōnin's genjutsu and remain calm."
Her eyes darkened.
"Which means your mysterious teammate isn't as simple as he appears."
"Tanako," she added gently but firmly, "until we know who he really is, I want you to keep some distance. Promise me that."
Tanako looked conflicted, but she nodded.
"I understand."
Even if she didn't want to admit it, her mother's words made sense.
The kind of power Mei described was far beyond anything a normal twelve-year-old should possess.
For the first time, Tanako realized that the boy who made her heart flutter might be far more dangerous — and far lonelier — than she imagined.
Meanwhile, unaware of the quiet conversation about him, Arata had already returned home.
He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind slipping naturally into his consciousness space.
Then, that familiar mechanical voice echoed within his head.
[You have been idle for one day.]
Chakra has doubled.
Physical strength has doubled.
New reward acquired — Extraordinary Learning Ability.]
[You can now learn any jutsu at the speed of the greatest geniuses in this world — provided your body and chakra are sufficient.]
A wave of tingling heat coursed through him.
It was intoxicating — every nerve, every cell humming with energy.
His mind sharpened; the fog of ignorance that had once lingered over his understanding of ninjutsu seemed to evaporate in an instant.
Concepts that had once been fragments now flowed together like water.
He could see it — hand seals, chakra flow, theoretical formulas — all vividly clear in his mind's eye.
It was as if every lesson he'd ever half-understood had suddenly clicked into place.
So this is what it feels like… to have a genius's brain.
He opened his eyes again, chest rising with quiet awe.
He could feel the chakra within him — thick, tangible, visible.
It pulsed through his meridians like a living current, rich and powerful.
"Twice as much chakra… maybe even at elite jōnin levels now," he muttered. "And my physical strength… it's probably comparable to a taijutsu chūnin."
He sat up slowly, letting the sensation sink in.
It was an overwhelming leap in power — one that would terrify most ninja.
But Arata only smiled faintly.
"Still… it's a little embarrassing," he said to himself. "All this strength, and I only know the Three Basic Jutsu."
He laughed quietly, shaking his head.
If he tried to fight with just those, even an average chūnin could take him down.
I need actual combat techniques, he thought. Something with offense — something real.
The problem was, his parents had left him no scrolls, no hidden jutsu.
They'd been ordinary shinobi — competent, but unremarkable.
Whatever techniques they knew had died with them.
Still, the new system reward changed everything.
"'Extraordinary learning ability,' huh?" he whispered. "If that's true, then… all I need to do is see a jutsu once."
A small spark of excitement flickered in his eyes.
"Tomorrow, after the mission, I'll go to the training fields. Watch whoever's practicing. If I can just see a few basic attack jutsu, I should be able to learn them instantly."
He smirked at the thought.
"I'm not planning to rely on taijutsu. The Eight Gates may be powerful, but the cost… is too great."
He knew better than to walk that path.
That was Might Guy's and Rock Lee's way — not his.
His way was quiet, steady, and efficient.
To watch. To learn. To evolve.
And to wait.
As the faint hum of chakra filled the air, Arata closed his eyes again — the ghost of a smile curving his lips.
Tomorrow, the village would still see him as an invisible boy.
But invisibility was only his camouflage.
The real Arata — the one the world hadn't noticed yet — had just begun to awaken.