The Ninja Academy buzzed with the same lively energy as the village. A long banner hung over the gate: "Ninja Academy Opening Ceremony." A crowd of five- and six-year-olds chattered noisily.
It was easy to distinguish clan children from civilians.
Civilians huddled together, curious and nervous, whispering excitedly.
For them, becoming a ninja meant rising above their status. The dangers of the ninja world were distant, especially for these war orphans who likely hadn't been told the harsh truths.
Most hadn't trained and were Level 0 by the system's standards—some even worse. Yet many would enter the academy, only to become battlefield fodder after graduation.
How many could rise to become like Jiraiya, Orochimaru, or the Fourth Hokage?
The truth was brutal.
Clan children stood apart, mingling only with their close-knit groups. They faced no pressure; the selection was a formality.
Destined to enroll, they looked down on civilians with a sense of superiority.
Most had basic taijutsu training, ranging from Level 1 to a few at Level 2.
Soon, a stern-faced chunin wearing a Konoha headband arrived to lead the children.
The Ninja Academy accepted all eligible children, clan or civilian, but entry required passing an assessment.
Not everyone qualified to be cannon fodder—only the elite cannon fodder made the cut.
The test was simple: run 200 laps around the field.
Not too many, not too few.
Chakra came from extracting energy from the body's 130 trillion cells. Ninja combat demanded a strong physique.
For ordinary people, 200 laps was daunting, but in a world infused with chakra, children's physical abilities were exceptional. After a few years of growth, they could handle basic training.
For Tatsu, 200 laps was routine.
Soft sunlight filtered through sparse branches, illuminating the children's faces as they ran for their dreams.
Tatsu's goal was to take first place.
Anything less than first was no different from being a salted fish. A commanding victory would highlight his talent.
From the start, Tatsu surged to the front.
Leading the pack, his gaze fixed on a boy beside him—a five-year-old with brownish-yellow hair, wearing the Senju clan emblem.
The boy noticed Tatsu and turned his head.
Not strikingly handsome, he had a spirited air, faintly resembling the First Hokage's rock portrait.
Senju Nawaki!
"Didn't expect to be in the same class as Nawaki!" Tatsu thought.
He didn't mind standing out at the academy.
His position in the Uchiha clan wasn't great, so he didn't want a clan jonin as his sensei after graduation.
That would limit his future.
In Konoha, the Hokage was the boss. Like his father, Tatsu needed to align firmly with the Hokage's side.
To do that, he had to display his talent—talentless people went unnoticed.
He pushed harder, aiming to overtake Nawaki.
Taking first by defeating the First Hokage's grandson, Senju Nawaki, would be a perfect headline.
What better spotlight?
Nawaki, true to his Senju blood, had vast chakra and superior physique, even without inheriting the First's Sage Body.
The Senju's talent had secured their title as the top clan in the Warring States, later defeating the Uchiha.
Unlike Tatsu, who was ostracized and self-trained, Nawaki had mentors aplenty—Tsunade, Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and his grandmother, Uzumaki Mito.
Before last night's point allocation, Tatsu wouldn't have been Nawaki's match in taijutsu.
Other leading clan children weren't content to fall far behind either. Losing was fine, but being lapped multiple times would be a huge blow to their pride and their clan's regard.
They picked up speed, chasing the duo.
The group's pace quickened.
For the first few laps, Nawaki kept up with Tatsu, relying on his greater chakra reserves.
But as Nawaki's chakra depleted, the gap widened.
Though Nawaki's physique was strong, Tatsu's Level 3 taijutsu made him a dominant student. These pre-academy kids were no match.
Per the system, Level 3 taijutsu vastly improved endurance, stamina, speed, and comprehension compared to Level 2.
Tatsu felt like he was flying.
Soon, he pulled ahead, leading the pack, with Nawaki trailing in second.
Nawaki gritted his teeth, chasing desperately, but the gap grew.
No matter how hard he tried, that Uchiha kid stayed ahead, matching every acceleration.
Was he on stimulants?
That jerk.
Tatsu had never felt so fast.
He couldn't resist a dramatic backward glance, savoring the strained faces of his pursuers.
What a flamboyant move.
"Oh, my foolish classmates, if you wish to catch me, resent and curse your fate. Then cling to life pathetically. Keep running, running, just to chase me. One day, when you match my speed, come face me!"