…
Twenty third Interview
Applicant: Might Dai
Age: 23
He arrived earlier than his appointed time then waited outside the door before knocking twice, firmly.
Then waited again.
I glanced at Hoshino who glanced back looked mildly intrigued. I smiled and waved my hand and the door slid open revealing the young man behind it.
Seeing the door open, the young man stepped in, bowing so deeply his forehead nearly brushed the floor.
"Might Dai, reporting in!" he announced, loud and clear. "I… uh… mean applying. For the teaching job."
He looked up, his expression open and hopeful, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered in his eyes.
He clearly wanted the position, but was trying very hard not to let his eagerness show.
I looked him over. Green jumpsuit. Orange leg warmers. Bowl haircut. He was also quite handsome.
As he stepped onto the rug, and the Genjutsu took hold. He froze, then straightened, posture awkward but present.
I gestured to the cushion. "Sit, please."
"Yes, sir!" He dropped into a seiza with military precision, then winced, probably from the impact which he masked with a grin.
Hoshino didn't react, but I saw the faintest twitch in her brow. Amusement. Or secondhand embarrassment.
"Might Dai," I said. "Twenty-three. Civilian. No clan affiliation. Registered genin, but no promotion record. Why apply?"
He beamed. "Because I want to help kids find strength the way I did!"
"You didn't attend the Academy," I pointed out.
"No, sir. I trained on my own. Ten years of solo taijutsu. No shortcuts. Just… grit."
His hands clenched slightly on his knees and I could see the calluses.
"You're known for the Eight Inner Gates technique."
"Yes, sir!" he said brightly. "Though… only up to the fourth so far. I'm working on the fifth."
"You know that's dangerous, right?"
"Yes, sir!" Still smiling. "But it saved lives during the war. I was stationed at the Southern border. No platoon. Just support missions. I… did what I could."
Oh? So he was at the Southern border that held against Kumogakure assault. Interesting.
I leaned back, folding my arms. "What can you teach kids?"
I knew what he'd become capable of and while he'd make a good inclusion to my institute, I still needed to know if he's good enough to teach kids.
He hesitated, "I can teach them that effort matters. That strength doesn't always come from bloodlines or genius. That… sometimes, the people who start at the bottom have the strongest roots."
I smiled slightly, that landed beautifully. Hoshino glanced at me and gave a slight nod. She felt it too.
I pressed gently. "What happens when a student gives up?"
He looked pained. "Then I don't. I keep showing up. I remind them why they started. I push when they need it. And when they fall… I help them back up."
His fists were trembling now. It wasn't fear, I could feel it was restraint.
"I was laughed at," he continued. "My whole life. For my lack of ability. My dreams. But I kept going. Because someone out there, even just one person would believe in me. I want to be that one person for them."
Silence followed and I let it sit.
No flicker from the seals to indicate deception. Just raw, awkward sincerity.
And underneath it? Steel.
"One-week trial."
His eyes widened. "Really?!"
I could feel he was about to bow to thank me and I tapped the table to freeze his movement for a moment. "Don't thank me yet," I said and released the seal. "You'll have to earn it."
He stood and still bowed deeply again. "Yes, sir!"
Then he turned and left, his posture still straight and his pace steady.
When the door shut, Hoshino let out a breath. "He's a mess."
"Yeah," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. "But he's our kind of mess."
I stayed seated, hands steepled in front of my face.
Might Dai. The man who, in the original timeline, died in obscurity. The one who trained his son, Might Guy, to carry on a taijutsu legacy that would shake the world.
I remembered that fight clearly, Guy unlocking the Eighth Gate and going head-to-head with Madara Uchiha during the Fourth Shinobi War. Madara, in his Ten-Tails form, called him the strongest taijutsu user he had ever faced.
That was the kind of acknowledgment that hit hard if you'd seen the original timeline. Who wouldn't tear up at that moment?
Just recalling that statement: I, Madara, declare that you are the strongest of them all.
Damn.
And it all started with this man. Dai.
It was only after his death that people realized the Eight Inner Gates weren't just theory, they were real. Deadly, yes, but real.
A forbidden technique, not because of ethics or taboo, but because of the toll it took on the body.
A person could train for twenty years and still only unlock a few gates. Dai had done that. Without recognition. Without promotion. Without praise. He spent more than two decades mastering a technique that no one would acknowledge until after he was gone.
I already knew what the Eight Gates could do, but seeing the man responsible for it, so early in his life, awkward, sincere, and visibly rough around the edges, it felt strange.
Like watching history being written before the world had any idea what it meant.
I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms.
From what I'd observed about the body since entering the body-refining stage, the Eight Inner Gates appeared to be natural limits built into the human body.
The Eight Inner Gates technique worked by forcing those restraints open, allowing the body to access levels of physical output it would normally suppress.
The higher the Gate, the more of those restrictions were removed.
But the body wasn't designed to sustain that level of output.
The Gates didn't create strength.
They simply allowed the body to use more of what was already there, and forced it to pay the price afterward.
The Eighth Gate of Death literally burned the user's life force in exchange for a few moments of overwhelming power.
Dai trained this technique while keeping it secret, even from most of his peers while bearing the monicker of eternal genin.
According to what little I remembered from canon, even Guy hadn't known the full extent of his father's strength until the very end.
That said a lot about Dai's mentality.
He wasn't the kind of man to show off. He just trained, every day, no matter the cost, because he believed in hard work. A taijutsu purist in a world soon to be ruled by ninjutsu bloodlines.
Twenty years.
That was the number I kept coming back to. It took him that long to refine the Eight Gates. That alone put him in a league of his own.
I glanced at the notes in front of me, then made a quick annotation beside Dai's name: Eternal Genin. Focus: Taijutsu.
I paused.
There was a possibility here.
The Heavenly Demon Technique I'd been developing was still in its early stages, with the first stage being the Heavenly Restriction Seal with the next stage being Body Refining.
My goal wasn't simply to become stronger.
I could already control the physical force my body produced with each thread I refined. What I wanted was greater efficiency in movement, precise control over force, and the ability to release that force in short, explosive bursts without wasting it.
That was where the Eight Gates caught my interest.
However, I had no intention of mimicking the Eight Gates.
I still liked living.
But there might be something worth learning from the methodology behind them.
I made another note: Observe potential crossover with Heavenly Demon structure. Investigate Dai's training regimen.
If I could learn even a fraction of the conditioning methods used to prepare the body for the first few Gates, I might be able to strengthen my own method further, not by removing my body's safeguards, but by making it better capable of handling the force I could already exert.
That distinction mattered.
The Gates forced the body beyond its limits, I wanted to expand those limits.
And who better to speak with than the man who built the technique from scratch?
I tapped my writing brush twice against the desk, then slipped his file into the "Follow Up" folder.
I'd keep an eye on him. I have a feeling we'd get along well.
…
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing at the side of my neck as Hoshino placed the final set of interview files on the table.
"That was the last of them," she said, voice calm. "You've been at this for two days straight."
I glanced down at the folders spread out before me. Stacks of notes, red tags, personal impressions, and Genjutsu integrity scores. Everything from fighting style to teaching potential.
Seventy-eight candidates interviewed. Only a handful had made the cut.
It was a sobering reminder of how little this world had developed when it came to education, child development, and preparing children for life beyond survival.
"Well," I muttered, "let's sort the wheat from the chaff."
Hoshino smirked faintly. "You've already made your decisions, haven't you?"
"Mostly," I admitted. "But let's make it official."
I shifted the top file over. Makabe Daisuke. "He's solid," I said. "He'll teach discipline and weapon mastery. Good for kids who might not go the shinobi route but still need to protect themselves."
Hoshino nodded.
Next was Umehara Ren. Adaptive fighting style blending traditional taijutsu with footwork.
"She'll handle advanced sparring and situational awareness," I said. "Plus, she's the only one who has a good grasp on movement techniques." I noticed that from how she walked.
I was a flash step user so I knew the difference between someone who's used to the usual body flicker and someone who's developed their unique movement technique.
"Also the only one who doesn't have anywhere to go," Hoshino added.
"That too."
Third, Might Dai. Twenty-three. Eternal Genin. "He's the heart," I said quietly. "He'll train the younger ones. The ones who think they're weak. He'll teach them effort."
"Even if he crashes through every training dummy we have?" she asked.
"Especially then." that'll likely motivate them.
I set those three files aside in the confirmed pile, then considered the other options. I added Kasumi Tenma, a 19-year-old taijutsu specialist from a small fishing village.
Orphaned, self-taught, and a solid communicator. She'd be a great assistant for Dai. She's relatable, grounded, and surprisingly fierce when cornered.
I noticed that the moment my questions cornered her during the interview. She was one second away from crashing out of I had persisted.
Then there was Sagara Toru, 30, a chakra control expert who couldn't make it past Chuunin but spent years studying physical rehabilitation and stamina recovery.
He wasn't a fighter anymore, but he understood how to push limits safely.
"Six instructors," I said. "Each with different strengths. Two senior, two mid-tier, two juniors. That gives us a balanced framework."
Hoshino jotted the final notes down. "And their areas?"
I ticked them off on my fingers.
Makabe Daisuke: Close quarters weapon combat, practical street defense.
Umehara Ren: Advanced sparring, movement technique.
Might Dai: Foundational taijutsu, motivation, stamina training.
Kasumi Tenma: Assistant instructor for youth classes.
Sagara Toru: Physical recovery, stamina management.
Murakami (myself): Oversight, experimental curriculum, Heavenly Demon development.
Then, on a separate sheet:
Aiko: Medical area, first aid, hygiene, emergency response.
Daichi: Kitchen, food safety, nutritional awareness.
"This is a good start," I said.
Hoshino gave a nod of approval. "I'll post their assignments and schedule a training sync next week."
…
Time Skip — One Week Later
The Training Hall, Lotus Institute.
The air inside the new training hall was fresh with the scent of sanded wood and freshly stretched canvas. Mats were lined in tight rows, dummies set off in corners, and chakra-proof panels reinforced the walls.
We'd invested heavily in this space, everything from ventilation to water access, and now it was filled.
Forty-three children, aged seven to fourteen, stood before me in clean rows. A few were barefoot out of habit, not poverty. Some stood with hands behind their backs, others were bouncing on the balls of their feet, already eager to move.
Most were just... curious. Some were Focused. All were well-fed and well-rested, because this was the Lotus Orphanage. And here, we didn't raise survivors. We raised kids with purpose.
I walked to the center, flanked by Hoshino on the right and Dai on the left, the rest of the instructors standing nearby.
I didn't raise my voice, but with a slight manipulation of chakra, I made sure everyone in the hall could hear me.
"You're here because you said yes."
I let the silence settle before continuing.
"You said yes to pain. To sweat. To failure. To falling over and over again. You said yes… to getting back up."
Some kids shifted uncomfortably while a few looked straight at me. I made eye contact with one of the older girls, ten, maybe eleven, who'd been caught stealing extra bread two days prior. I gave a small nod.
She looked away, ashamed. I didn't blame her, she was new to the orphanage after the orphanage she was in got filled up and couldn't accommodate any more kids.
"You are not shinobi," I continued. "Yet. You are not warriors. Not fighters. You are children. Well, that's what you were. But from today? You become students. Not just of power, but of perseverance."
Might Dai was practically vibrating beside me, fists clenched in restrained joy.
I continued. "Every one of your instructors has walked a different path. Some of them were shinobi. Some never made it. Some got lost. But they all kept going. And that's why they're here. To teach you how to keep going too."
I stepped back, gesturing to the instructors.
"Some of you may choose the path of combat. If you do, they will teach you how to fall without breaking. How to get hit without giving up. How to stand when every part of your body says, 'Stay down.' That is the first lesson."
I let my gaze move across the children. "But not everyone needs to become a fighter."
A few of them looked at me curiously.
"Some of you may become merchants. Healers. Craftsmen. Scribes. Teachers. Administrators. Farmers. Or something none of us have thought of yet."
I smiled faintly. "That is why this place exists."
I gestured toward the building behind me. "You will learn to read. To write. To calculate. To understand the world around you. You will learn practical skills that can help you earn a living and take care of yourselves."
I paused. "And if you discover that you want to learn how to fight, we will teach you that too."
My eyes settled on them again. "But I will never tell you what you have to become."
I stepped back. "That choice belongs to you." I clapped once. Loud and firm. "Form lines. Bow to your instructors."
The children scrambled into formation. It was messy and uncoordinated, but it was earnest.
They bowed and I smiled. With this, another step to carving a path in this world has been taken.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
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