Kakashi shivered suddenly, his head snapping around to scan the crowd. His classmates were laughing and joking, and unfamiliar faces hurried past in the corridor. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
"Hmm? Whats this funny feeling?"
Kakashi glanced into the distance out of the corner of his eye, a nagging suspicion creeping into his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, analyzed.
---
On the other side of the campus.
Shinichi Higashino carried a bokken and walked steadily toward the school's training grounds.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. By moving out of the orphanage and integrating into the Ninja Academy, the stage for building his persona had officially shifted. He had moved from the relatively closed environment of the orphanage to a larger platform—one that gathered the future generation of Konoha and, through them, could radiate his influence to families across the entire village.
It was nearly noon, and the sun was blazing overhead.
Although classes had finished for the morning, the campus was far from deserted. Similar to schools in the modern world, most students at the Konoha Ninja Academy did not go home for lunch.
They either brought bento boxes from home or purchased a simple meal at the cafeteria, spending their break in the classrooms, on the playground, or in the library. Consequently, even during the lunch hour, the campus remained a hive of activity, buzzing with the restless energy of youth.
This was exactly the audience Shinichi needed.
He arrived at the edge of the training grounds, a fairly open area equipped with wooden striking posts, targets, and flat earth for practicing Taijutsu and Ninjutsu.
At this moment, students were scattered in small groups: some sat in the shade of the trees eating and chatting, others practiced shuriken throwing, and a few engaged in light sparring.
Shinichi's choice of location was deliberate. He walked to a spot that was relatively isolated yet easily visible from the main pathways and various vantage points around the playground.
He didn't start immediately. Instead, he stood quietly for a moment, his gaze sweeping across his surroundings, noting the eyes that drifted toward him—some intentional, some accidental.
*Good.*
He took a deep breath and gripped the hilt of his wooden sword with his right hand.
The next second, he moved.
There were no flashy techniques or dazzling displays of speed. He executed only the most basic, foundational swordsmanship drills—stepping, twisting the hips, swinging the arm. The bokken cut through the air with a short, sharp *whip* sound.
The movements were so precise they bordered on rigid. Every exertion of force was clearly discernible. Power traveled from the soles of his feet, up through his waist and hips, and finally into his shoulders, wrists, and fingers. The transmission of kinetic energy was rigorous and efficient.
Then came the second strike. The third.
His speed was not fast; in fact, he deliberately maintained a steady, methodical rhythm, as if he were not training for lethality but rather refining the microscopic details of every motion. His hands were rock-steady, and his eyes were focused on a non-existent point in the void, completely devoid of distraction.
Gradually, the repetitive *thwack* of the sword cutting air drew the attention of nearby students.
"Look over there... is that guy practicing Kenjutsu?"
"He's so serious. He's been doing the exact same swing for ten minutes. It's robotic."
"Is he a first-year? I've never seen him before."
"Tch, not even taking a break for lunch? What a try-hard..."
A low murmur of discussion drifted over—a mixture of curiosity, praise, and disdain. Shinichi sensed the gazes and the whispers. They were exactly what he wanted.
Starting today, he would practice his swordsmanship here every single lunch break, without fail, in full view of the student body.
Starting tomorrow, he would appear on the roads around the school during the morning rush hour, carrying increasingly larger rocks.
Day after day.
He didn't care if it brought ridicule, sarcasm, or if he was labeled an oddball.
*Diligent. Hardworking. Amazing perseverance. Solid foundation. Talented in swordsmanship.*
As long as he maintained the routine, these impressions would eventually be recognized and acknowledged. Through the eyes of his classmates, these traits would be confirmed, deepened, and then quietly carried into their respective homes.
A casual remark from a student at the dinner table—"There's this weird kid who trains non-stop"—would plant the seed. Conversations among neighbors would water it. Gradually, the name "Shinichi Higashino" would become synonymous with "effort" and "strength."
Even years later, when these students became Genin or Chunin, they would recall him. "Back in the Academy, there was this guy who ran every morning with a boulder and swung his sword until his hands bled. He was a monster of dedication."
Impressions were like drops of water. Individually weak, but over time, they converged into a stream that could carve canyons—ultimately shaping the reality of his power.
---
The July heat had turned Konoha into a sticky, humid oven.
Time flew, and the first semester drew to a close. The Ninja Academy began its three-day final examination period.
"Thank goodness you're here, Shinichi!"
The morning's written exam had just concluded. As the proctor collected the papers and left the room, Takashi Ishizuka let out a long, dramatic sigh of relief. He turned to Shinichi, his dark face beaming with gratitude.
"If it weren't for you, I would have failed the academic portion completely. Just like last time."
He wasn't exaggerating. During the test, Shinichi hadn't done anything obvious; he had simply angled his paper slightly so that his answers were visible to his desperate neighbor.
"The practical assessment is this afternoon," Takashi said, quickly recovering from the trauma of the written test. He leaned forward, the familiar fire of battle eagerness burning in his eyes. "I heard from the upperclassmen that for the finals, they sometimes randomize opponents between classes to get a more comprehensive evaluation. I really hope I get matched with some tough guys from the other classes."
"Hey, don't get too excited. You'll be crying if you get matched with Kakashi," Shizune said, looking up from packing her stationery to pour cold water on his enthusiasm.
"Kakashi..."
Takashi's excitement froze for a moment. He scratched the back of his head and frankly admitted, "Yeah... that guy is a monster. A genius among geniuses."
The assessment of "a genius among geniuses" was universally accepted by everyone at the Academy when it came to Kakashi Hatake.
Since enrollment, he had achieved perfect scores in every monthly and midterm exam—theory, Ninjutsu, Taijutsu, Genjutsu, Shurikenjutsu.
But perfect scores were merely the baseline of his terrifying talent.
While most first-graders were struggling to master the Clone Technique or Transformation Technique, Kakashi was already fluent in elemental Ninjutsu.
And not just one type.
Rumors swirled that he had an affinity for all five nature transformations: Fire, Wind, Lightning, Earth, and Water.
Innate mastery of all five chakra natures was a legendary talent, a one-in-a-million occurrence.
In the recorded history of Konoha, only three individuals were known to possess such comprehensive mastery: Hashirama Senju, the God of Shinobi; Tobirama Senju, the creator of the village's infrastructure; and Hiruzen Sarutobi, the current Third Hokage, known as "The Professor."
Kakashi was the fourth.
Therefore, when the extent of Kakashi's talent was revealed...
No one knew which gossiping student first coined the phrase, but it stuck immediately.
"He has the potential to become Hokage."
The rumor spread like wildfire among the faculty and student body, quickly spilling out into the village streets.
By now, even the most disconnected civilians had heard the whispers: The White Fang's five-year-old son is a prodigy beyond compare, the hope of the next generation, and the inevitable future leader of the Village.