"He is talented…"
The words were spoken in a low rasp, casual, almost offhand; yet they carried weight, drifting across the murmurs of the crowd that stood at the edge of the academy field.
The man who said them stood a little apart from the other guardians; he looked like someone who could vanish in plain sight. Middle-aged, with a build that was neither thin nor bulky, features that were neither handsome nor plain. His clothes were muted shades of brown and grey, the kind that left no impression even when you stared at him for too long. There was nothing striking about him, nothing remarkable.
In fact, his sheer ordinariness was almost unnatural, like he had been carefully sculpted to disappear into the background.
Few of the gathered parents noticed him. Their attention was fixed instead on the spectacle in front of them; the dozens of children sprawled across the academy field, exhausted after their physical test.
In the distance, Uchiha Itachi pushed through the final stretch of his thirty-fifth lap. Where other children gasped and stumbled, he kept his pace like a machine.
"Of course," a feminine voice answered from a few meters away. "He is Fugaku's child, after all."
It was Nono's voice. She wasn't standing beside the ordinary man, but her words were spoken loud enough for him to hear. Her eyes remained locked on the field, cool and unreadable, her lips barely moving as she spoke. A short distance from her, Akari knelt among the collapsed children, pressing water flasks into trembling hands, soothing cries, and checking for any injuries.
The ordinary man chuckled softly under his breath, shaking his head. "I'm not talking about him."
Nono froze, if only for a fraction of a second. She didn't look at him, but her sharp mind instantly caught his meaning. Her gaze slid to the far side of the running field.
There, among the shinobi children, stood a boy with near pale skin and messy black hair that curled stubbornly at the edges. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his arms resting on his knees as he recovered from the laps. His dark eyes glinted faintly in the sunlight, thoughtful even in exhaustion.
Satoru.
"I can't," Nono said finally, her voice low. "The Yamanaka clan already sent a chunin to speak with him. Perhaps they want him."
"I heard," the man continued, tone light, almost conversational, "that he also awakened his Sharingan."
Nono's jaw tightened. Her face betrayed nothing, but her hands, clasped behind her back, stiffened. She answered evenly, still not sparing him a glance. "Yes. But the Uchiha clan has yet to make contact with the orphanage."
A brief silence fell between them, filled only by the distant sounds of panting children and Akari's soft instructions.
"They are probably waiting until he gets to the academy," the man said at last.
"Just like the Yamanaka clan," Nono replied softly. "Once he is here, he will no longer be under my care. I cannot blame them."
The man's expression never changed. His eyes remained half-lidded, his lips set in a faint, unreadable line. He let her words settle before saying, "It is already risky. With the Hokage watching Root's actions more closely than ever, we will move our attention to the younger ones."
He didn't wait for her reply. With a step that was neither hurried nor slow, he turned and melted into the crowd of parents. Within moments, it was as if he had never been there.
Nono stood unmoving, her gaze fixed on the children. She looked composed as ever, but the faint crease at her brow betrayed the thoughts stirring beneath her calm mask.
Out on the field, Shibuta Haru, the academy instructor with the rasping voice and stern face, strode toward the group of children who had their chakra unlocked and managed to last through the gruelling laps. His presence drew their tired eyes upward.
"You've all done well," Shibuta said, his voice rough yet not unkind. His gaze swept across them, lingering briefly on Itachi, then Satoru, then the Hyūga girl who had pushed herself nearly as far. "But running alone does not make a shinobi. The next test will determine the level of your chakra control."
The children stirred at that, weary but curious.
Shibuta wasted no time. He reached into a small pouch at his side and pulled out a bundle of fresh, green leaves.
"The next test will determine your chakra control," he said, "this is the leaf concentration exercise. You will channel your chakra to a single point, your forehead, and use it to hold a leaf in place. The longer you can keep it there without it slipping, the finer your control."
Excited murmurs rippled through the clan children. Many of them had practised this dozens of times under the watchful eyes of their parents or clan elders.
Shibuta moved down the line, handing each child a leaf. The air grew thick with anticipation as the first boy pressed his to his forehead. His expression tightened in concentration, for a moment, the leaf trembled against his skin; then it fell.
"Too much chakra," Shibuta barked, jotting something on his clipboard.
One by one, the children tried. A Hyūga girl closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and her leaf stuck fast for nearly a full ten minutes before fluttering away. A boy from the Aburame clan scowled when his leaf slipped after only a few seconds.
When it was Satoru's turn, he stepped forward calmly, the leaf cool between his fingers. He pressed it against his forehead and exhaled slowly, sinking into a focus born from hours of practice in the orphanage yard.
Seconds stretched into long, silent moments. The other children began to fidget, stealing glances at him. Finally, Satoru opened his eyes and let the chakra taper off.
The leaf drifted lazily into his hand.
Shibuta's brows rose slightly. He made another note on his clipboard. "Good control," he muttered, though his voice carried enough for the group to hear.
Soon after, all the children completed their attempts. Some leaves slipped off immediately, prompting frustrated cries; others lasted a respectable amount of time.
Shibuta gathered the results, muttered briefly with the other instructors, and then raised a hand.
"We will have a break," he barked. "Ten minutes."
The children dispersed eagerly, some collapsing onto the grass, others heading for the water jugs.
Satoru sat cross-legged on the ground, wiping sweat from his brow. Ito dropped beside him, groaning. "My legs are dying…" he whined.
Ayano flopped down on Satoru's other side, "I don't want to move for a week."
Satoru smirked faintly. "You just need to work harder. That's all."
Ito groaned louder. "Easy for you to say…"
Ayano, however, was quiet for a moment, staring across the field. "But… wasn't he amazing?"
Satoru blinked, following her gaze. Itachi sat beneath the shade of a tree, sipping calmly from a flask, as though he hadn't just run thirty-five laps like a machine. His face was serene, unreadable.
'Don't tell me she has a crush on him already,' Satoru thought, suppressing a sigh.
"Who is he, anyway?" Ayano asked suddenly, turning toward Satoru. "That boy… the one everyone keeps staring at."
"That's Uchiha Itachi. Son of Fugaku, the head of the Uchiha clan."
Ito's jaw dropped. "Wait… how do you know that?"
Satoru hesitated a second too long. He masked it quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "Heard about them from Nono… back during the burial," he said smoothly.
Ito nodded slowly, buying the explanation. Ayano, however, looked back toward Itachi, her eyes still lingering with fascination.
Before Satoru could redirect the conversation, Shibuta's gravelly voice rang out again.
"Form up! Names will be read!"
The children scrambled back into rough lines, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as anticipation filled the air. Shibuta stood tall, a scroll in hand, his presence commanding silence. One by one, he read names aloud, the crowd of parents murmuring as clan heirs were confirmed.
At last, the scroll neared its end.
"Ito," Shibuta called.
Ito stiffened beside Satoru, eyes wide.
"Ayano."
Ayano blinked, then grinned.
Finally, Shibuta's eyes flicked down to the last name.
"Satoru."
The boy exhaled slowly, the murmurs of the crowd washed over him, but his mind was elsewhere.
He had passed. He was officially in the academy.
"Welcome to the Academy!" Shibuta finally said.
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