"Thank you for your understanding, Teacher."
After saying that, he propped his arms on the desk and leaned back down. His movements were casual and natural, like a lazy cat in the afternoon.
But this time, without the thrill of secretly sleeping and fearing being caught, the surging sleepiness vanished like a receding tide. He stared at the wood grain on the corner of the desk, unable to help but complain in his heart.
If I had known, I wouldn't have used that excuse... a miscalculation, truly.
Sitting behind him, Uchiha Kagami had already pricked up his ears, taking in every word Senju Makoto said without missing a beat.
Especially the phrases "talked all night with the First Hokage" and "deliberating the future development plans for the Land of Fire and Konoha"—these words were like a thunderclap, like a brilliant light, instantly piercing through his young and restless chest.
In his bright black eyes, the light of admiration was almost overflowing. Due to extreme excitement, the corners of his eyes even flushed slightly red.
In this pure, dazzling spirit, one could faintly see the shadow of the future Uchiha Shisui, who would sacrifice everything for the village. No, perhaps it should be said that Uchiha Shisui's belief—transcending the limitations of the "Clan" and dedicating himself wholeheartedly to the village—was inherited directly from this man.
The chirping of cicadas outside the window grew noisy as the crisp school bell finally shattered the dullness in the classroom.
On the podium, Sarutobi Sasuke blurted out "Class dismissed" almost at the exact moment the bell reached his ears. Before his voice faded, he had already turned around neatly and strode out of the classroom as if escaping.
He truly didn't want to stay for a single second longer, fearing that the throbbing vein on his temple would explode on the spot, causing him to do something irrational to the "First Lord's only disciple."
As soon as the teacher's figure disappeared from the doorway, the atmosphere in the classroom exploded like boiling water.
Suddenly, many students swarmed around Senju Makoto's seat. Their faces were filled with curiosity and envy, and their voices immediately drowned him out.
"Senju Makoto, you're amazing! You're actually the only disciple of the First Lord!"
"What do you usually learn from the Hokage?"
"Is the First Lord really like the legends say, able to use all kinds of techniques just by clapping his hands?"
"Can you tell us about it?"
"....."
The incessant chattering surrounded him. Not far away, Nara Shikaguan remained slumped in his seat, only half-lifting an eyelid to glance at the bustling scene. Three words floated through his mind: "What a drag."
He thought about going over to strike up a conversation, but found the crowd too bothersome, so he simply continued to slump and watch the show.
Several girls squeezed in to give Senju Makoto various small gifts, even including Utatane Koharu.
When this scene fell into Mitokado Homura's eyes, his face instantly darkened. His brow furrowed into a ball as he stared fixedly at Senju Makoto, his face full of displeasure. However, hampered by the other's status, he dared not speak his anger aloud, only able to clench his fists in impotent rage on the sidelines.
In another corner of the classroom, the atmosphere was entirely different, filled with the scent of gunpowder.
Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo each led a group of students, effectively setting up a confrontation between two armies. They were arguing until they were red in the face over the "Will of Fire" that Sarutobi Sasuke had lectured on earlier, the veins on their necks nearly bursting.
Shimura Danzo shouted at the top of his lungs, his arms waving excitedly, his spit nearly flying onto Sarutobi Hiruzen's face: "I believe the core of the Will of Fire is sacrifice! For Konoha, individuals and even clans can sacrifice everything!"
"Wrong! Completely wrong!" Sarutobi Hiruzen immediately argued back, his brow tightly knit and his tone firm.
"Sacrifice is the last resort! The foundation of the Will of Fire is protection—to let all the clans of Konoha live well! That was the First Lord's original intention for establishing the village!"
"You're too naive, Hiruzen! Without sacrifice, where would peace come from? Konoha was built upon countless blood and bones!"
"That's exactly why we need to protect it properly now!" Sarutobi Hiruzen refused to yield an inch. "For the continuation and prosperity of Konoha, one can compromise and negotiate when necessary. There's no need to stake your life on everything!"
The two held their ground, point for point, neither backing down. The students behind them also chimed in. The small classroom had effectively split into two camps, arguing so fiercely they were only a step away from a physical brawl.
Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo were the most resolute leaders of their respective camps.
Senju Makoto leaned against the desk, watching this lively scene with interest, a faint, meaningful smile curling on his lips.
It was good. This kind of Konoha was quite interesting.
But since Senju Makoto was here, the original story of Konoha and the Ninja World would have to change starting today!
After school, Senju Makoto didn't rush back. Instead, he took a turn and headed toward the main street of Konoha, his pace neither fast nor slow.
The shops along the street were bustling, with shouts echoing back and forth. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting mottled light and shadows on the ground, carrying the unique vibrancy of Konoha's early days.
He walked into a bookstore that looked relatively tidy. When the wooden door was pushed open, it let out a creak.
The bookstore owner was a middle-aged man with glasses, slumped over the counter napping. His head nodded up and down, and his glasses had slipped to the tip of his nose. Hearing the noise, he woke up dazed, rubbing his eyes.
"Welcome... Are you here to buy a book?"
Senju Makoto didn't respond. With an expressionless face, he took a stack of manuscripts from his bag and placed them on the counter, saying flatly:
"Publish this."
The owner froze, pushed up his glasses, and picked up the manuscript to flip through a few pages. His casual gaze scanned a few lines, and instantly his eyes widened. His grip on the paper tightened.
He quickly flipped through more pages, becoming increasingly excited, his breathing turning rapid and his fingertips even trembling slightly.
"This, this is..."
He looked up abruptly at Senju Makoto, his eyes full of shock. Then, a flash of merchant shrewdness flickered in his gaze. His lips moved; he instinctively wanted to open his mouth to lowball him and negotiate the most profitable deal.
Senju Makoto took in his expression. His dark pupils lifted slightly and, in an instant, turned a blood-red. The Sharingan rotated slowly within them.
He had Uchiha blood and was Senju Hashirama's disciple. Since that was the case, why hide his light and play the "pig eating the tiger" game? When it's time to flex your muscles, you must do it cleanly and decisively!
As for that future "Darkness of the Ninja World," the First Scapegoat-Kage—he was currently just a brat in a classroom arguing red-faced with Sarutobi Hiruzen over the "Will of Fire." There was no need to worry about safety for now.
The lowballing words at the bookstore owner's lips were forced back into his throat. Not a single syllable came out. The shrewdness on his face was instantly replaced by terror.
"The... the Sharingan!?"