The girl was dressed in a slightly oversized set of dark-colored clothes, which made her figure look somewhat slender. Resting her cheek on one hand, her black short hair hung casually by her ear as she gazed at the newly risen morning sun outside the window with a weary expression.
'Honestly… you even said you'd take care of me on Uncle's behalf… and yet you still drank yourself that drunk. Making a mess until halfway through the night. In the end, who was taking care of whom?'
The black-haired girl yawned, her face full of fatigue. In her mind flashed the chaotic image of a certain blond figure from the previous night, and she could not help but complain inwardly with helpless resignation.
"Excuse me, hello. May I sit here?"
A gentle, clear voice came from beside her.
Hearing it, the girl turned her head. She seemed to still be immersed in her own thoughts, her eyes carrying a hazy look as if she had only just come back to herself.
She glanced at Shinichi, then swept a look at the empty seat beside her. There was no particular expression on her face. She simply nodded lazily, her voice light as well. "Mm. Whatever."
"My name is Higashino Shinichi. And you?" he asked.
"Shizune." Shizune replied weakly, her voice so light it seemed to drift in the air. She lifted her eyelids slightly and looked at Shinichi again.
This rather ordinary-looking classmate actually made people feel unexpectedly comfortable when he smiled—like the morning sunlight, not particularly aggressive. But that faint warmth quickly dissipated. Right now, her mind was filled with something else entirely, something far more troubling.
The moment she thought about how that drunken woman would wake up and once again turn the house upside down—and how she would have to go back and clean up the aftermath—Shizune felt a dull ache begin to throb at her temples. Along with it, the classroom before her and this new deskmate beside her started to feel a little unreal.
Shizune?
Right—if I remember correctly, Shizune and Kakashi are the same age and from the same class.
That really is a good thing.
The corners of Shinichi's mouth lifted slightly. His gaze calmly shifted toward the podium as he waited for the teacher to arrive. Yet in his heart, the unexpected discovery that Shizune was his new deskmate sparked new thoughts.
A few minutes passed, and the teacher still had not appeared. Then, with a loud bang, the classroom door was shoved open. A figure hurriedly burst inside, bringing with him a gust of slightly stifling air.
The newcomer had dark skin, his build clearly a full size more robust than children of the same age. He was drenched in sweat, as if he had sprinted all the way here.
He took several heavy breaths, and the eyes beneath his thick brows quickly swept across the classroom. Spotting that only the three-person desk by the window in the upper-right corner still had an empty seat, he strode over without the slightest hesitation.
"Good—made it!" He dropped into the empty seat beside Shinichi with a heavy thud, let out a long breath, and then began grumbling with a bit of dissatisfaction. "Honestly, Chen-sensei really doesn't pay attention to time. On the very first day, he—"
Halfway through, he seemed to realize he still had not greeted the new deskmate beside him. He suddenly turned his head, flashing a mouthful of white teeth, his grin bright and utterly free of gloom. "My name's Ishizuka Ryū—just call me Ryū! What's your name?"
Shinichi returned the friendly smile as well. "Higashino Shinichi. You can call me Shinichi."
As he spoke, he sized up Ryū's sturdy build and the "Chen-sensei" he had mentioned offhand earlier, and a guess formed in Shinichi's mind. He spoke as if casually, "Ryū, from the way you look, you're probably good at taijutsu?"
"Wouldn't say that!" Ryū waved his hand. There was a frank, self-mocking note in his smile, but his eyes were bright and sparkling. "Rather than good at it, it's more like it's the only thing I can do. I only got in because I passed the make-up entrance exam with taijutsu. My sensei always says that someone who can't use ninjutsu can't be a ninja, and he tells me to give up on it—but I insist on proving it to him. Even if I only know taijutsu, I can still become an outstanding ninja."
"What do you think, Shinichi?"
"Of course. Taijutsu itself is an incredible path—one that can even create miracles," Shinichi said sincerely, without the slightest hint of pretense. Because taijutsu really could create miracles—Might Guy was the best example.
"Ahahahahaha! That's so well said! Miracles! Yeah—miracles!" Hearing that, Ryū's grin grew even wider, clearly pleased. Then he said excitedly, "By the way, Shinichi, are you also interested in taijutsu? I think your frame's pretty solid too—how about we spar someday? Chen-sensei always says real combat is the best practice!"
So it really is you!
Only taijutsu, Chen…
With those two key pieces of information combined, Shinichi understood. This dark-skinned, burly boy in front of him—smiling brightly with a bit of reckless energy—was probably the student who never appeared in the anime, the one Master Chen mentioned, who only knew taijutsu and died in the Third Shinobi World War.
The thought rose in his mind, but on his face he merely smiled and nodded. "Of course I'm interested. If there's a chance later, please give me your guidance."
Shizune, on the far right, who had barely had any presence this whole time, seemed to be bothered by the sudden surge of enthusiasm beside her. She silently flicked a glance at the two chatting happily, pursed her lips almost imperceptibly, then buried her chin back into the crook of her arms, her whole body giving off a withdrawn aura.
On the podium, the homeroom teacher's figure finally appeared, and the classroom gradually quieted down.
The homeroom teacher began speaking in a routine, procedural manner, introducing school discipline, course arrangements, and so on.
Shinichi sat upright, his gaze directed toward the podium. On the surface, he seemed to be listening attentively, but inside his mind was already working at full speed.
He was thinking about how to interact with these two deskmates—or, to be more precise, how to use these two deskmates to connect with the people behind them.
One was a ninja renowned as Konoha's strongest taijutsu practitioner, nicknamed the Dragon God of Konoha—Old Master Chen. Through Ryū, he could get in touch with that Master Chen. Even if it were only to receive a bit of guidance, it would be of immeasurable benefit to solidifying his foundations, broadening his taijutsu horizons, and even shaping a future taijutsu-oriented persona.
The other was one of the Sannin, famed as Konoha's strongest medical ninja—Tsunade-hime. Chakra control, medical ninjutsu, monstrous strength, even the Senju Clan… it was another priceless treasure trove.
Ryū and Shizune were precisely the "keys" to opening these two treasure troves.
'Just as I said before, this really is a good thing.'
Shinichi's focus returned to the podium. Below it, pairs of eyes were filled with anticipation, confusion, or excitement. Yet deep within Shinichi's clear eyes lay a calm, calculating deep sea.
Soon, the morning classes ended amid the homeroom teacher's explanations and the varied thoughts of the new students, and it was time for midday dismissal.
Streams of people began pouring out from the classrooms, converging in the corridors and along the paths leading to the training grounds. Chattering conversations and playful noises once again filled the space.
Shinichi moved along with the crowd at an unhurried pace, his calm gaze sweeping over face after face—some unfamiliar, some faintly familiar.
And it was precisely amid this after-school crowd that, for the first time at the academy, he clearly saw those "familiar faces" that had previously existed only in his memories.
Yūhi Kurenai, Sarutobi Asuma, Might Guy, Uchiha Obito, Nohara Rin…
These names that would one day shine across the shinobi world were, at this moment, merely ordinary children mixed into the crowd. Shinichi's gaze passed over them evenly, not lingering on any one of them for even a second longer.
Not even Obito, who would one day stir up world-shaking waves, drew the slightest extra attention from him.
At this moment, his eyes could hold only one person. His gaze, as if drawn by an invisible magnet, pierced straight through the noisy crowd and locked precisely onto that figure with silver-white hair.
Kakashi!