(MC POV)
Some people stumble into greatness. Some are born into it.
Me?
I just showed up with a clipboard, a sparkle aura, and an overwhelming lack of qualifications—and somehow landed a job teaching ninja children.
Let me backtrack.
After the whole Uchiha incident (vibe inspection, canon disruption, tiny soul-reaper Itachi calling me soup-scented), I figured laying low would be wise. Real low. Like, 'hide-in-a-cave-and-meditate-on-existential-crises' low. But then System-tan pinged me mid-ramen slurp with a pop-up that shattered the illusion of peace:
[URGENT: Hokage Request! You've Been Summoned to the Tower. Wear something educational. 💼🍎]
I put on my least-threatening coat, which still sparkled faintly from residual chakra polish, and teleported to the Hokage Tower lobby via scroll-hop. By the time I stepped into Hiruzen Sarutobi's office, the old man was already lighting his pipe with the kind of sigh reserved for ANBU reports and questionable miracles.
"Tanaka."
"Hokage-sama~" I chirped, striking a pose that radiated 'barely-employed enthusiasm.'
He squinted. "What do you know about standardized education?"
"That it's a construct designed to suppress creative jutsu development in favor of memorizing hand seal charts. Also, it kills the soul."
He nodded solemnly. "Perfect. You're hired."
So now, I'm officially a part-time guest instructor at the Ninja Academy.
Title: Adjunct Shinobi Arts Consultant
Which is a fancy way of saying "we don't know what he is, but the kids like him and the explosions are educational."
My class? A ragtag batch of eight-year-olds who already throw shuriken better than I pay taxes.
And among them—yes, canon characters.
Iruka Umino: soft-spoken, earnest, clinging to the hope that effort = success. Sweet kid. Probably won't survive my teaching style. Already color-coding his scrolls.
Mizuki: smug, competitive, already giving 'will betray the village for clout' energy. Wears his headband tilted and calls his reflection 'rival.' I don't trust him.
Anko Mitarashi: feral. Might be part snake. Already built her own paper bomb slingshot and tried to sell it to the Hyuga. Probably needs therapy. Or her own fireworks stand.
And a bunch of future unnamed chunin exam failures with names like Taro, Soba, Explosive Tag #3, and one extremely silent girl who might be a kunoichi ghost.
Day one of official instruction.
I walk in wearing a black coat lined with chalk holders, six hidden kunai compartments, and a "Knowledge is Just Weaponized Chaos" pin. It glowed. Slightly.
System-tan overlays my lesson plan into my HUD:
[Lesson 1: Chakra Control via Egg Juggling] [Lesson 2: Emotional Damage Resistance Training] [Lesson 3: Escape Room (But Real)] [Optional: Replacing Classroom Windows With Summoning Scrolls]
Iruka raised his hand. "Sensei, are these real lessons?"
"Iruka," I said gently, "today you're going to learn how to weaponize soup."
Mizuki muttered, "This is dumb."
I blinked. [Spend 1 Luck Point to make him trip on nothing and fall face-first into an ink tray?]
"Do it."
SPLAT.
The entire class gasped. Iruka looked concerned. Anko cackled. Mizuki sat up slowly, his ego dripping with ink. He was quiet for the rest of the day.
I tilted my head. 'Dignity: down. Morale: up. Educational value: technically arguable. I'll allow it.'
Later, I introduced my clones.
One wore glasses and held a clipboard. One held a boom mic for some reason—probably filming a documentary titled 'The Rise and Fall of Sanity: An Academy Story.' I suspected System-tan encouraged it, purely to give the chaos a soundtrack. One was painting a banner that said, "WELCOME TO SHINOBI THEATER — Now With Fireproof Curtains!"
"Today's mission," I said, "is infiltration and exfiltration… from the teachers' lounge. Objective: steal the legendary Forbidden Cookie Jar."
The class lost their collective minds.
Anko was already tying bandages around her forehead like she was going to war.
Iruka was making tactical diagrams in the dirt with military precision.
Even Soba got serious and painted black lines under his eyes.
The silent kunoichi ghost gave a thumbs up. Probably. Hard to tell with the mist.
Thirty-seven minutes later, the cookie jar was gone, half the building smelled like smoke, and I was sitting in the principal's office drinking tea with the actual academy director while he tried to process what just happened.
"And you say… this was part of a lesson on stealth?"
I nodded. "And teamwork. And sugar discipline."
He rubbed his temples. "The Hokage said you were 'unusual.'"
I leaned in. "I prefer the term 'genre-defining.'"
Behind me, the boom mic clone whispered, "Cut to black. Add dramatic credits."
Back in class, System-tan beamed.
[Master~ Iruka now thinks you're the coolest teacher he's ever met. Mizuki is plotting revenge. Anko asked if you have a cool hideout, and I may have answered ambiguously while humming. Technically, no one can hear me but you... But I might've slipped a subconscious hint. Probably. You might want to install stronger mental firewalls, Master.
I mentally squinted. 'Note to self: invent chakra-grade antivirus for cheeky system entities.']
"Only if she doesn't blow it up."
[No promises. Also, someone started writing a song about you. The chorus is just 'Sparkle Sensei' repeated over taiko drums. There's already choreography.]
I sipped my tea and stared at the chalkboard, where someone had drawn me with glowing fists fighting a dinosaur.
"Academy life suits me."
I glanced out the window, where two clone versions of me were juggling eggs in slow-motion over an active trap circle.
"…For now."