Another three days passed.
That afternoon, long after the dismissal bell had rung, an unusually large crowd of students remained gathered on the Academy grounds.
They whispered among themselves, their eyes unanimously fixed on the classroom that had been designated as a special testing site.
Today was the day Kakashi Hatake took his early graduation exam.
Living up to his title as a genius, the five-year-old Kakashi passed every single assessment with flawless execution. He officially graduated from the Ninja Academy, shattering the record for the youngest graduate in Konoha's history in one fell swoop.
Following the exam, the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi—who had come to observe the test in person—personally tied the Konoha forehead protector, the absolute symbol of a Genin, around Kakashi's forehead.
A massive crowd had gathered outside the testing room. Shinichi was among them.
The door opened.
Kakashi walked out, his brand-new forehead protector glinting. Yet, he displayed zero joy at passing the exam or breaking the record, nor any excitement about wearing the headband and becoming an official shinobi.
His face, largely hidden by his mask, was blank. His eyes were entirely hollow and devoid of light, like those of a wooden puppet.
He completely ignored the students crowding around him trying to strike up a conversation or offer congratulations, acting as though they didn't even exist.
With his head slightly bowed, he walked silently through the parting crowd, step by heavy step. Framed by the elongating shadows of the setting sun, his small silhouette looked impossibly lonely and burdened.
Shinichi watched the tiny figure slowly walk away against the light. His face was entirely devoid of expression, his thoughts completely hidden.
After Kakashi left, the gathered students gradually dispersed. Shinichi turned around, merging into the flow of the after-school crowd and beginning his walk home.
The sky over Konoha was still a brilliant blue, and life in the village seemed as peaceful as ever. But Shinichi knew this peace wouldn't last much longer.
Four years.
At most, he only had four years.
Although his memory of the original timeline was vague and slightly jumbled, he could still use certain concrete "nodes" to make a rough estimation.
For example, the vast majority of his generation—Asuma Sarutobi, Kurenai Yuhi, Shizune, and even the dead-last Obito Uchiha—all graduated at the age of nine.
As for him, since he had delayed his enrollment by a year, he would be ten.
This meant that, at most, within four years, Konoha's graduation policy would undergo a drastic change.
By then, some massive, catastrophic event would have occurred. Even if the Third Great Ninja War hadn't fully erupted, the geopolitical situation would have undoubtedly become violently tense, triggering an intense sense of crisis among Konoha's higher-ups and forcing them to prematurely graduate a batch of students to replenish their military forces.
In other words, he had a maximum of four years of relatively peaceful Academy life left to grow.
Four years from now, whether he was thrown directly into the most brutal meat grinder of a battlefield or not, his true shinobi career—one forged in blood and fire—would officially begin.
A sense of urgency began to tick clearly in the back of his mind, like the silent hand of a stopwatch.
Walking under the fading light of the setting sun, Shinichi's mind raced, constantly calculating and mapping out his future path.
Crafting his persona and generating and upgrading traits remained his core, most fundamental method for increasing his strength. That fact had never wavered.
The efficiency of generating and upgrading traits fundamentally relied on the breadth, depth, and authority of public perception. In reality, there was very little difference in efficiency between being an Academy student and a freshly graduated Genin. In fact, one could argue it was even worse as a Genin, as he wouldn't have the centralized audience of the Academy.
The true watershed moment lay in becoming a "Named Shinobi."
When he could possess a unique, world-shaking moniker like the White Fang of Konoha, the Sannin, or the Yellow Flash, it would mean his existence was known, discussed, feared, or worshipped by countless shinobi and factions across the entire world.
That would be a qualitative leap in the scope of perception. At that point, the speed at which his traits generated and upgraded would experience a true, explosive surge.
Therefore, over these next four years, Shinichi needed to farm as many traits as possible, pushing them to the highest tiers he could.
This wasn't just to guarantee that he would start his shinobi career with a massive baseline of power to ensure he didn't die early on; it was also to aggressively shorten the time it took for him to become a Named Shinobi.
Simultaneously, aside from his traits, he needed to put his plan to effectively utilize his current resources to access higher-tier legacies and guidance into motion.
His gaze naturally fell upon his two unique desk mates: Takashi Ishizuka and Shizune.
Over the past few months, relying on his gentle demeanor, consistently top-tier grades, and the invisible boost from his [Affinity] trait, he had built a rather solid relationship with both of them.
His interactions with Takashi were the most direct and straightforward. The dark-skinned, cheerful boy had a simple mind and worshipped hard work and perseverance. Shinichi's rock-solid Taijutsu fundamentals and grueling training ethic perfectly suited Takashi's tastes.
The two frequently sparred and exchanged Taijutsu insights. Their relationship had long surpassed that of mere classmates, carrying the distinct camaraderie of true companions.
Using Takashi as a bridge to contact Master Chen, the Taijutsu expert hailed as "Konoha's Dragon God," seemed like an entirely viable path.
His relationship with Shizune, on the other hand, was built on a slow, steady accumulation of familiarity and unspoken understanding. Shizune was somewhat lethargic and introverted, but she was incredibly observant and kind-hearted.
As her desk mate, Shinichi's daily diligence, steady composure, and occasional displays of reliability had gradually earned her trust and a faint sense of fondness.
She had even reached the point where she would occasionally complain to him about "that unreliable Lady Tsunade."
Relationships were bridges, but crossing those bridges—securing true trust and subsequently obtaining guidance or a legacy—required far more delicate maneuvering and perfect timing.
Four years. It wasn't exactly short, but it certainly wasn't long either. He needed to draft a far more precise and highly efficient blueprint, incorporating the accumulation of traits, explosive leaps in combat power, and the construction of critical networks, driving them all forward simultaneously without conflict.
Shinichi slowed his pace, pulling his gaze down from the gloomy sky.
Lead-gray clouds hung low, and the air was thick and heavy with the distinct, earthy scent that always preceded a storm.
"It's going to rain," he thought, quickening his steps toward home.
However, just as he rounded a street corner, his heart gave a sudden, completely unprompted throb.
It felt like a vague, magnetic pull, an indescribable sensation that forced him to stop in his tracks. His eyes were drawn involuntarily toward the western edge of the village—toward the silent cemetery.
He pondered for a moment. Then, pivoting on his heel, he changed direction and began walking toward the graveyard, which was now entirely swallowed by the increasingly oppressive gloom.
---
Meanwhile, at the Konoha Cemetery.
The leaden clouds had practically descended to the treetops. The wind began to howl, whipping up dead leaves and dust from the ground.
In front of a relatively new tombstone, a tiny figure stood perfectly still. He had been there for an unknown amount of time.
It was Kakashi.
He stood in absolute silence, unmoving. The pre-storm winds whipped at his hair and his brand-new forehead protector, but he seemed entirely oblivious.
Above his mask, his eyes stared blankly ahead. There was no intense emotion in them, only a dead, terrifying emptiness, as if all of his feelings had been buried alongside the person beneath the stone.
He was entirely lost in his own world, or perhaps, lost in an ocean of silent nothingness.
RUMBLE!
A blinding flash of lightning violently tore through the sky, followed instantly by an explosive crack of thunder that seemed to make the very earth tremble.
The storm that had been brewing for hours finally shattered the sky, pouring down in an absolute deluge!
Massive, heavy raindrops smashed against the earth, instantly drowning the world in a blinding white curtain of water and a deafening, chaotic roar.
Gale-force winds whipped the rain into sheets, mercilessly lashing the tombstones, the trees, and everything on the ground.
Kakashi remained rooted to the spot. It seemed he fully intended to let the freezing, torrential rain soak him to the bone, as if the physical numbness could somehow validate or wash away the agonizing void within him.
But the anticipated, brutal impact of the rain never came.
A patch of relatively quiet shadow enveloped him. An umbrella, deep in color, had been opened above his head, instantly blocking out the howling wind and the roaring rain.