Steam still clung faintly to the air of the small apartment, a reminder of the hot bath Satoru had just taken. He stood before the cracked mirror hanging from the wall above a wooden stand, droplets of water still dripping lazily from his damp black hair. His pale skin almost seemed to glisten under the morning light streaming through the thin curtains, his reflection clearer than he was used to.
Satoru tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at himself. The mirror wasn't anything fancy; it was just a small rectangular piece of glass with a plain wooden frame, but it had cost him a painful amount of ryō.
"Tch… this little thing burned such a hole in my wallet," he muttered. His reflection grimaced back at him.
He leaned forward, raising his brows. 'But I wanted to spoil myself. Just a bit. A mirror, some beddings, a pair of decent clothes… a few things to make this apartment less like a jail cell and more like a home.'
He sighed, stepping back. His chest rose and fell as he let the thought simmer. He rubbed his hands through his wet hair, groaning.
"And now I'm basically broke. I've only got enough left to keep me fed for a month, and it's only been a week since I left the orphanage…"
Satoru grinned wryly at his reflection.
'Maybe Naruto was more financially responsible than me.'
The absurdity of that thought almost made him laugh. "Great, Satoru," he said under his breath, "you've managed to be worse at budgeting than a kid who mostly blew his allowance on instant ramen."
He shook his head, chuckling softly, before the humour drained away. His grey eyes sharpened, and slowly, deliberately, he let his chakra surge. The world around him dimmed for a moment as his eyes darkened; then with a faint shimmer, the single tomoe spun into existence.
The Sharingan reflected back at him; a lone comma twisting in his eye like a restless predator. He couldn't help the small smirk tugging at his lips. "One tomoe… not enough. I can't wait until there are three of you."
The crimson glow was both a promise and a curse. He knew what the future held; he'd seen it once before through the comfort of a television screen. But now, living in it, staring at his reflection, it felt heavier; real.
His gaze roamed over himself, studying the faint lines of his shoulders, the subtle lean muscle forming from his constant training.
'Am I taller?' he wondered, stretching slightly. He stood sideways, craning his neck, as if the mirror would reveal the truth.
'Maybe by a little. But this body… tch.'
He scowled, fingers curling into fists.
'I still feel so weak. Too young. Too small. How long until this body catches up with my mind?'
The frustration bubbled before he shook it off, shutting his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he forced the Sharingan to fade. His grey eyes returned, and he muttered,
"Enough staring. I'm already late."
His hand shot for the folded clothes he had carefully laid out the night before: a plain dark-blue shirt with short sleeves, a pair of standard black shorts, and sandals. Simple, practical, and—most importantly — not riddled with holes like his older hand-me-downs from the orphanage. He slipped them on quickly, tightening the strap of his sandals before grabbing his pouch and tying it at his waist.
Swinging his door shut with a clack, Satoru stepped out into the morning bustle of the civilian housing sector. The air smelled faintly of freshly baked bread from a nearby vendor, and the chatter of families starting their day floated on the breeze. He scanned the street instinctively, half-expecting to see the other orphans making their way to the academy.
None were in sight.
He frowned.
'Strange. They don't live next door, but we're still in the same area. Ayano's place is closer to mine than Ito's… maybe she already left? Or maybe Ito overslept again. Wouldn't surprise me. Those two are the closest things to friends I've got in this world, and they're probably already ahead.'
Shrugging off the thought, he pulled his shoulders back and began a brisk pace toward the academy.
By the time he arrived, the academy grounds were alive with movement. Children swarmed the entrance, filing in through the tall wooden gates. Their chatter rose like a tide — laughter, nervous whispers, bold declarations of how strong they'd become. Satoru slowed, scanning the crowd. Most of the children were older than him; their taller frames and more confident postures marked them as seniors.
'So these must be the returning students. Which means the new students are somewhere else.'
He spotted a group of familiar faces, the civilian kids he'd seen during the entrance tests. Relief loosened his chest, and he began weaving through the crowd toward them. He opened his mouth to call out a greeting —
"ALL NEW STUDENTS, GATHER ON THE OPEN TRAINING FIELD!"
The booming command froze him mid-step. Heads turned toward the voice — one of the instructors standing by the gate, hands cupped around his mouth. The sheer authority in his tone cut through the chaos like a blade.
Satoru let out a short breath. Guess that saves me the trouble. He adjusted his pace, following the flow of children toward one of the academy's broad training fields.
When he arrived, the sight made him pause. More than a hundred children were gathered, their forms spilling across the grassy expanse. Their voices overlapped in a chorus of curiosity, fear, and excitement.
Satoru's eyes widened.
'Are all of these new students? I don't remember seeing half of these faces during the tests. Hm. Maybe the academy staggered the exams across different days. That would explain it.'
Still, the sheer number impressed him.
'So many want to become shinobi…'
He wasn't the only one impressed.
Up at the front of the gathering, the Fourth Hokage himself stood tall — Minato Namikaze, golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. His white Hokage cloak, trimmed with crimson flames at the hem, billowed lightly in the breeze.
Beside him stood Kushina Uzumaki, her long red hair cascading over her shoulders, a simple yet elegant dress marking her presence.
Minato's blue eyes crinkled with warmth as he murmured to Kushina, "Quite the turnout, isn't it?"
Kushina smiled, her voice low but carrying that familiar edge of energy. "They all look so tiny. Hard to imagine these brats will be carrying the Will of Fire someday."
Before Minato could reply, Shibata Haru, the instructor from before, stepped forward and inclined his head.
"Hokage-sama, it's time."
Minato nodded, giving Kushina's shoulder a gentle pat. He stepped forward, raising his hand to quiet the restless murmur of children. Slowly, the chatter dimmed, and dozens of eyes turned up to him.
He smiled, voice ringing clear.
"Welcome, all of you. Today marks the beginning of your journey as a shinobi of Konoha. Each of you carries potential, potential to become the future pillars of this village."
The children shifted, shoulders straightening at his words.
Minato continued, "The path will not be easy. You will sweat, stumble, and even fall. But remember this: you are never alone. Konoha stands strong because its people stand together. That is the Will of Fire, the flame that burns in each of us, passed from generation to generation. Protect that flame, nurture it, and one day you will carry it forward."
His words washed over them, kindling sparks of pride and determination in young faces.
When he finished, the Hokage stepped back, returning to Kushina's side with a boyish grin. "So? How was it?"
Kushina chuckled, crossing her arms. "Not bad, but… you've still got a long way to go if you want to be as good as the old man."
"You mean the Third?" Minato teased, scratching his cheek sheepishly. "Well, maybe give me five years. By then, I'll be a natural at speeches."
Their quiet exchange drew fond smiles from a few instructors nearby.
But Satoru wasn't smiling.
From his place in the crowd, his gaze wasn't fixed on Minato; it was on Kushina. Her vibrant red hair swayed in the breeze, her warm presence unmistakable.
'Looks like I still have time before the chaos,' he thought darkly.
As if she'd heard him, Kushina's head tilted slightly. Her eyes swept across the crowd and locked with his.
For a fleeting moment, their gazes met.
Satoru's heart gave a single heavy thud before he quickly looked away.
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