Chapter 4 — The Boy With Silver Hair
The Academy's courtyard was buzzing. It was the first day of term for the newest intake of students, and parents were scattered about, exchanging greetings and subtle glances that measured bloodlines and family prestige.
Akira arrived alone. Mikoto had offered to walk him, but he'd declined politely — the walk gave him time to think. His dark hair was neatly tied back, and his Uchiha crest was embroidered proudly on his short-sleeved shirt.
Five years old, he thought, scanning the crowd. And already the weight of history on my shoulders. Fun.
Children milled about, some shyly clinging to parents, others already challenging each other to "duels" with sticks.
And then Akira saw him.
The boy stood apart from the crowd, leaning casually against the courtyard wall as if the noise around him didn't exist. His hair was a shock of silver — natural, not aged — and his sharp gray eyes swept the scene with practiced disinterest.
Even without knowing the timeline, Akira would have recognized him instantly. Hatake Kakashi.
---
Akira approached without hesitation. "You're blocking the best shade," he said casually, stepping into Kakashi's shadow anyway.
Kakashi's eyes flicked to him, faintly annoyed. "Plenty of shade elsewhere."
"But not with such a good view of the gate," Akira replied, watching the stream of students arriving. "Easier to size up the competition from here."
Kakashi paused at that, curiosity briefly breaking through his mask of boredom. "You're here for competition?"
Akira tilted his head. "Aren't you?"
A beat of silence passed. Then Kakashi's lips — barely — curved. "Maybe."
---
The instructor called for the new students to line up. They shuffled into rows according to height, Akira ending up just behind Kakashi. The boy stood with a straight back, eyes forward, projecting an air of self-contained superiority.
When roll call came, Kakashi answered his name crisply.
"Uchiha Akira," the instructor read next.
"Present," Akira said, his voice calm but carrying. A few heads turned at the Uchiha name. Clan prestige carried weight, but so did rumors, and some of the older children whispered behind their hands.
Akira ignored them.
---
First Lesson: Target Practice
The day's first exercise was simple — throw three practice kunai at a straw dummy. For most five-year-olds, the challenge was just hitting the target at all.
Kakashi stepped up first. He didn't just hit the dummy — all three kunai landed in the center ring, the wood vibrating from the force. A few students gasped.
Akira's turn came soon after. He stepped to the line, weighing the kunai in his hands. In truth, he could already hit the center — Uchiha weapons training made sure of that. But today wasn't about showing everything.
He threw. The first kunai hit just off-center, the second closer, the third splitting the line between center and first ring.
The instructor nodded approvingly. "Good control."
Akira caught Kakashi glancing back at him as they returned to the line. The silver-haired boy didn't speak, but there was the faintest spark in his eyes — recognition.
---