In a corner of Training Ground No. ___ in Konohagakure,
Hane Akira— a transmigrator—was lounging cross-legged at the edge of the field.
His gaze remained fixed on the figures of several shinobi sparring intensely in the center.
Like clockwork, he showed up here every single day, the most faithful of spectators.
After a long while, the once-noisy training ground gradually quieted. The shinobi wrapped up their practice and left one after another.
The last sliver of sunset had already been swallowed by night, and a dim amber dusk blanketed the land.
Akira slowly dusted off his pants and stood up, the corner of his lips curving into a barely perceptible smile.
"Not bad today. I even mastered a new ninjutsu."
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu. It may not be some world-shattering forbidden art in the ninja world, but for me right now, it's the perfect means of self-defense."
Naturally, it couldn't compare to the Uchiha Clan's signature Great Fireball Jutsu in sheer ferocity. But for a 6-year-old child, its practicality was maxed out.
"This body's potential is practically a cheat code. No matter how obscure the technique, just one look and it's as if muscle memory forms instantly."
"Good thing I devoured all those basic ninjutsu theory books in the library beforehand. Otherwise, just watching wouldn't have been enough to understand how chakra flows and transforms into flames."
Akira silently marveled at himself, then glanced up at the deepening night sky. Time to head home.
On the path he always took, he lightly clenched his fist, sensing the power surging within.
"This feeling of growing stronger… it's incredible. Just walking this short distance, and I can clearly feel my physical abilities improving."
"Maybe it's because this body hasn't fully developed yet—still in its growth phase. Once I'm an adult and fully matured, this 'leveling up while sitting still' sensation probably won't be so obvious."
After only a few hundred meters, he could feel every cell in his body cheering. His physique was transforming at an astonishing rate.
That was the most terrifying aspect of this body.
Even something as ordinary as breathing or walking constantly strengthened his attributes.
Passing through the bustling streets, Akira's gaze casually swept across the warm noren curtain of Ichiraku Ramen ahead.
His steps abruptly halted. His pupils shrank slightly.
Through the swaying curtain, he caught sight of a distinctive silver-haired figure—
Kakashi Hatake—sitting inside and eating heartily.
Beside the ever-deadpan man sat another figure with a gleaming bowl-cut and a tight green jumpsuit.
After a brief moment of thought, Akira steadied his breathing and stepped forward, lifting the curtain.
"Welcome!"
Seeing the 6-year-old walk in, Teuchi immediately flashed his signature warm smile.
"Ichiraku-san, one bowl of tonkotsu chashu ramen. Extra rich broth, please."
Akira calmly sat down beside the two most eye-catching men in the shop.
Sensing movement beside him, Kakashi's exposed dead-fish eye flicked toward Akira with mild curiosity.
For some reason, the moment the boy stepped into the shop, Kakashi felt an indescribable sense of dissonance.
Something about him wasn't quite right.
Yet he couldn't pinpoint what.
Following Kakashi's gaze, Might Guy also turned to look at Akira.
"Kakashi, this is rare. Since when are you interested in a little brat?"
Akira frowned slightly. Though he didn't look at them, he knew Guy's booming voice was referring to him.
So he turned his head innocently, his clear eyes filled with confusion as he looked at the two men.
Kakashi froze for a second, realizing his rudeness.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you."
Akira nodded obediently, then shifted his gaze back to Teuchi's flying noodles, focusing intently.
Like an ordinary food-loving child.
Too calm, in fact.
Kakashi turned away helplessly and muttered to Guy, "Can you not make a big deal out of everything?"
Guy grinned, flashing a row of sparkling white teeth.
They didn't linger long. Apparently, some urgent mission weighed on them. After finishing their bowls—
"Teuchi-san, money's on the table."
Kakashi pulled out some bills from his ninja pouch and slapped them down.
The next instant, both figures blurred and vanished from Akira's sight.
With their departure, the shop's atmosphere seemed noticeably lighter.
Akira calmly slurped his ramen.
But deep down, he was grinning from ear to ear.
"Body Flicker Jutsu—acquired. Snagged another highly practical ninjutsu for free. Totally worth the trip."
From the moment he decided to enter the shop, he had intended to "bump into" them—hoping to "borrow" a jutsu or glean some useful intelligence from two elite shinobi of Konoha.
Ninjutsu or intel—both were nourishment for his growth.
On the surface, however, he maintained his steady pace, even the rhythm of his soup-sipping unchanged.
After finishing, he quietly placed the money neatly on the table and left.
...
Not long after Akira departed from Ichiraku Ramen—
High in the canopy of a towering tree nearby, Guy and Kakashi stood concealed.
"What's wrong? You suspect that kid?" Guy asked.
Kakashi shook his head lightly, his gaze distant.
"Not suspicion. Just… intuition. Something about him felt off. But it's vague—even I can't explain it."
"Maybe I've just been overworked lately."
Guy didn't think so. He knew how sharp Kakashi's instincts were—especially as an elite member of the Anbu. It wasn't mere paranoia.
And yet, that child looked completely ordinary.
Aside from being slightly more delicate-looking than most kids, there was nothing remarkable about him.
Judging by his clothes, he wasn't from any prestigious clan either. Just a civilian academy student.
What could possibly be wrong?
...
Only after walking several hundred meters away, when the sensation of being watched finally disappeared, did Akira let out a long breath.
"That was thrilling. Dealing with Anbu is like walking a tightrope."
"I didn't make a single unnecessary move, and I almost got locked onto by that guy's sharp instincts. Better avoid him in the future."
Thanks to his extraordinary perception, he had already sensed their presence when Kakashi and Guy concealed themselves in the tree.
That was why he forced himself to finish the entire performance—calmly eating before daring to leave.
A close call.
Perhaps the most heart-pounding moment since he transmigrated into this world.
...
Back home, in the slightly desolate house, Akira washed up briefly and went straight to bed.
No grueling training.
No late-night studying.
For someone with this body, such efforts were unnecessary.
All these years, aside from basic physical activities at the Academy, he hadn't done any private, intensive cultivation at all.
As his steady breathing filled the room, the chakra within him rose gradually—both in purity and quantity—at a constant pace.
At just six years old, the chakra he possessed was already comparable to that of an ordinary chūnin.
...
Nothing noteworthy happened overnight.
The next morning, Akira slung on his schoolbag emblazoned with the Konoha symbol and strolled toward the Academy as usual.
The moment he stepped into the classroom, familiar noise rushed toward him.
Naruto Uzumaki was provoking Sasuke Uchiha in a snide tone.
Ino Yamanaka and Sakura Haruno were staring dreamily at Sasuke, hearts practically in their eyes.
In the corner, Hinata Hyuga blushed as she stole glances at Naruto.
Shikamaru Nara lay slumped over his desk as if drained of life, while Choji Akimichi continuously stuffed chips into his mouth.
Yes—Akira shared a class with these future big shots.
Compared to these vividly distinct personalities, however, he was like a background character.
A small transparent figure.
Neither outstanding nor terrible in grades.
Neither strong nor weak.
Forgettable.
Not long after he sat down, the bell rang.
Iruka Umino entered with teaching materials tucked under his arm, smiling warmly.
"I have an announcement. Today, we'll be holding our first midterm exam."
Before he could finish—
Naruto sprang to his feet. "Iruka-sensei, what's a midterm exam?"
Iruka's smile froze. A vein throbbed on his forehead.
"Naruto! Sit down properly!"
After shouting him down, Iruka patiently explained that it was an assessment of their progress.
"This term, since we haven't begun advanced ninjutsu yet, the focus will be basic taijutsu and ninja tool throwing."
"And finally, a practical combat assessment."
The moment the words "practical combat" left his mouth, the classroom exploded.
"Combat assessment? For real?"
"What if we're matched against Sasuke? That'd be a disaster!"
At this stage, Sasuke was undeniably the class's combat ceiling.
No one wanted to face him.
Except Naruto.
He clenched his fists, staring at Sasuke with blazing eyes.
"Finally! This time I'll knock you down in front of everyone!"
"If I beat you, Sakura will definitely stick with me forever!"
He was already immersed in his fantasy of victory, laughing like a fool.
Iruka roared, "Naruto! Stop laughing and head to the training field!"
By the time Naruto snapped out of it, most of the class had already left.
He hurriedly shoved his ninja tools into his bag and dashed after them.
Watching his reckless back, Iruka sighed.
"This kid… I really don't know why the Hokage insisted on putting him in this class."
After all, this class was assembled to train the next generation of elites.
With Naruto's bottom-of-the-barrel performance, he normally wouldn't have qualified at all.
What gave Iruka the biggest headache was that Naruto had come in through the back door—he hadn't even taken the entrance exam before being placed directly into this class.
The group arrived at the spacious training ground.
More than thirty students stood in a loose row. After Iruka once again emphasized the rules, the tense and exciting drawing of lots began.
"Listen carefully. Each of you may draw only one slip of paper. Whoever draws the same number will face each other in the practical combat round."
Akira looked utterly uninterested.
His expression remained as calm as ever, as though what awaited wasn't an exam but some dull little game.
He casually reached into the box, pulled out a slip, and stepped back into line.
The number "12" was written on it.
As for who his opponent would be, he couldn't care less.
Soon, Iruka finished organizing the numbers and announced the matchups.
Naruto stared at the boy opposite him and grimaced. "Why is it you, dog-boy? Where's my real opponent?"
The boy he was facing was Kiba Inuzuka.
Kiba grinned enthusiastically, slapping Naruto hard on the shoulder. "Don't be discouraged, Naruto! Don't worry—this great me will go easy on you. I promise not to make you lose too badly!"
Naruto swatted his hand away and retorted stubbornly, "Hmph! Don't get cocky, Kiba! I'm worried you're too weak to even qualify as my opponent! My goal is Sasuke!"
Kiba wasn't offended. Instead, he laughed. "You're still full of hot air as always. But what a coincidence—I wouldn't mind sparring with Sasuke either."
At the edge of the crowd, Akira—ever the background extra—slightly furrowed his brow.
His sharp senses had just picked up a familiar presence outside the training ground wall, perched in a large tree.
Kakashi.
"Why is he here?"
At that very moment, standing on a thick branch beyond the wall, Kakashi was observing the students through the gaps in the leaves. His gaze slowly swept across the field—before settling on Akira.
Kakashi's eyes narrowed.
"That kid's reaction just now… did he notice me?"
Since their encounter yesterday, Kakashi's suspicion had grown like weeds.
He had even gone to the Anbu archives overnight to check Akira's file. It was spotless—clean as a blank sheet of paper.
And yet, that overly perfect ordinariness only deepened his doubts. On a whim, he had come to the Academy to observe in secret.
Akira, sensing Kakashi's presence, forced himself to calm down after a brief flicker of surprise.
"Looks like I'll have to keep a low profile to the very end today."
"Was it because of yesterday's Body Flicker Jutsu? I've always disguised myself so well—how did he latch onto me? Getting targeted by someone like Kakashi over one jutsu… that's a bad trade."
He had assumed yesterday was just a fleeting curiosity on Kakashi's part.
Who would've thought the man would actually camp outside the Academy?
At the front of the line, Iruka raised his voice.
"Enough chatter. First test: shuriken and kunai throwing. You may choose whichever ninja tools you're most comfortable with."
Standing among the students, hands in his pockets, Sasuke muttered coldly to himself:
"Hmph. Testing something this childish… are they underestimating the Uchiha?"
"My brother personally guided me before. First place is mine."
At this point in time, the Uchiha Clan had not yet suffered its annihilation. Sasuke was aloof, yes—but still just a competitive child eager to prove himself.
And by student number, he was first up.
Iruka smiled warmly. "First—Uchiha Sasuke!"
He had an excellent impression of Sasuke: top grades, exemplary conduct, noble background yet not arrogant. Aside from being a little cold, he was a model student—nothing like that headache named Naruto.
Sasuke strode forward steadily and stood at the throwing line.
Ignoring Naruto's muttered curses, he drew five shuriken at once and flicked his wrist sharply.
Five flashes of cold steel shot forward.
Thud thud thud thud thud!
Five crisp impacts sounded almost simultaneously.
All five embedded perfectly in the bullseye.
The surrounding students gasped.
"That's insane!"
Even Naruto clenched his fists tightly, gritting his teeth as he stared at the target.
"Damn it! Show-off! I hate to admit it… but he's good. Could I even do that?"
Sakura and Ino instantly transformed into a cheering squad.
"Sasuke-kun is amazing!"
"Sasuke-kun is so cool!"
The girls' eyes practically turned into hearts.
Naruto bit the hem of his shirt in jealousy, tears welling up.
"Why is that bastard more popular than me?!"
Kiba frowned. "As expected of an Uchiha genius. That was clean."
Even Shikamaru, who constantly complained about trouble, opened his sleepy eyes. "Yeah. Not bad."
Choji Akimichi stuffed chips into his mouth. "He's top of the class. Makes sense."
As for the calmest person present—
Without question, it was Akira.
To him, Sasuke's performance was child's play. He could do better—he could do it blindfolded.
Still, he clapped along with everyone else, wearing an appropriately impressed expression.
Not because he was impressed—
But because he didn't want to stand out.
Inside, however, he was complaining nonstop.
"Being watched like a thief feels awful. Is Kakashi that bored? Why is he tailing a kid?"
Up in the tree, Kakashi caught Akira's slightly exaggerated applause and twitched faintly.
"He definitely noticed me. That clap was stiff."
"Interesting. Is he deliberately acting awkward because he sensed my surveillance?"
After years in the Anbu, Akira's immature disguise was riddled with flaws in Kakashi's eyes.
"Let's see what kind of show you put on next."
Unaware that his acting had already been seen through, Akira thought playing mediocre would let him slip by.
Little did he know—
In front of a top-tier observer, excessive mediocrity itself was suspicious.
After Sasuke, no one else achieved a perfect score.
Soon it was Akira's turn.
He stepped onto the platform.
The class reacted indifferently—as if watching a roadside stone.
He slowly drew five kunai.
"Four bullseyes should be about right. Not too high, not too low."
Unlike Sasuke's flashy simultaneous throw, Akira tossed them one by one.
Thud!
First—bullseye.
Thud!
Second—dead center.
Thud!
Third—precise.
Thud!
Fourth—clean.
The students, who had been half-distracted, blinked in surprise.
Sasuke looked up sharply, his gaze landing on Akira for the first time with seriousness.
A faint frown appeared.
Then came the final kunai.
Akira's wrist trembled ever so slightly before he flicked it out casually.
Whoosh.
It grazed the edge of the target—and missed entirely.
A wave of regretful sighs swept through the field.
Iruka looked genuinely disappointed.
"80 points. What a pity! Akira, your fundamentals are solid. If you'd steadied your mentality on that last throw, you would've had full marks."
"Work on your psychological stability!"
Akira nodded obediently and returned to the group without a word.
Sasuke, seeing this, scoffed.
"Thought he might be hiding something. Turns out he's just half-baked."
80 was decent—upper-middle tier.
Not a threat.
Back in line, Akira remained expressionless.
But in the tree, Kakashi smiled faintly.
"Clever brat. That last throw was obviously deliberate."
After the throwing exam ended, Sasuke took first place without suspense.
Iruka cleared his throat.
"Next—practical combat. This will test your taijutsu. Remember—no ninjutsu. Stop at the point of contact!"
All the students responded in unison.
Because Akira was number 12, several rounds passed before his turn.
He sat cross-legged at the edge of the field, watching what looked like rookies pecking at each other.
Up in the tree, Kakashi chuckled.
"Child's play like this must be unbearably dull for him."
For once, Kakashi guessed right.
To Akira, these soft exchanges were a waste of life.
Less than half an hour later, it was his turn.
Iruka called out:
"Next match— Hane Akira versus Hinata Hyuga! Step forward!"
Akira blinked.
"Didn't expect it to be her."
"This is tricky. How am I supposed to lose naturally against such a shy girl?"
He hadn't even bothered checking his opponent earlier.
Now he'd drawn the short straw.
Hinata entered the ring with her head lowered, face red, looking as though she might faint at any second.
Akira sighed softly.
"Guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there."
"Normally I could just wing it. But today there's a peeping tom up in the tree. What a hassle."
He stepped calmly into the ring.
Iruka stood between them and raised his hand.
"Form the Seal of Opposition!"
Hinata's face was red as a ripe tomato.
She didn't dare meet Akira's eyes.