The morning mist still carried yesterday's dampness.
Inoue Satoru ran a hand through his hair as he strolled into the academy office. The first thing he saw was Yanshan Mingming — the teacher who'd been here since day one. Her flaxen hair was pulled into a tidy ponytail, and though her flak vest screamed "shinobi," it did little to hide her figure.
She was buried in lesson prep, organizing notes for another round of fresh-faced kids. That was the life of a Konoha academy teacher: raise them from clueless brats to graduation, then start all over again.
Inoue smoothed his clothes and marched over, flashing what he thought was a charming smile."Teacher Yanshan, want to grab dinner tonight?"
"No." She didn't even look up, eyes still glued to her stack of papers.
He slunk back to his desk, crestfallen. Prep time was sacred — classes wouldn't start for a while.
Across the room, another teacher piped up while gathering notebooks."By the way, Inoue-sensei, I heard that Uchiha Jinzō's been sent back to your class?"
At the name, Inoue instantly perked up."Yeah, last year he got transferred over to Yanshan's class for a while. Guess he's back now."
The teacher winced at the memory. Jinzō had spent most of his lessons asleep, head down on the desk, like the world's most bored shinobi-in-training. Even worse than Kushina Uzumaki, who at least blew up loudly but still paid attention. Jinzō didn't care about anything. His battle evaluation? Still at zero. And not because they were strict — the kid flat-out never tried.
Yanshan sighed, clearly remembering her turn babysitting him."That boy is a headache. Sleeps through my lectures and, worse, kept asking me out to dinner."
She rubbed her temples. It wasn't like she didn't know she was attractive, but a twelve-year-old hitting on her? Constantly? He'd even brought her flowers. Wasn't this supposed to be harassment?
Inoue's jaw dropped. "What?! That brat dared harass Teacher Mingming?!" His outrage wasn't helped by the fact that the kid's "moves" sounded a little too much like his own.
Mingming just shrugged it off. "He's a child. Ignore it. Just… watch him. He skips class whenever he feels like it."
And she was right. Last year, after she'd rejected him, his attendance rate dropped to barely fifty percent.
Inoue groaned. A truant in his class? That was a stain on his record. Muttering darkly, he bolted for the classroom. Sure enough, when the lesson began, every seat was filled… except one.
"Uchiha Jinzō!"
Of course. Skipped again.
Meanwhile, Jinzō himself strolled down Konoha's streets with a yawn. He knew the academy textbooks better than the teachers at this point. "I could teach circles around Inoue," he muttered.
But he wasn't here to sit through boring lectures. Not when the village outside was buzzing with the looming scent of war. Merchants and civilians rushed with grim faces. Even ninjas dashed past with worry lines etched on their foreheads.
Down the road, he spotted a familiar figure: Might Duy, bent under six heavy bags, unloading cargo alone while merchants barked at him.
Jinzō smirked. "Tch, still a work mule, huh?"
He called out, "Yo, uncle, we meet again."
Duy startled like a cat and actually jumped back at the sight of Jinzō. The shopkeepers frowned at the disruption, but once their eyes landed on the Uchiha crest stitched to Jinzō's clothes, they quickly backed off. Even children of the clan carried weight.
After apologizing to the merchants and finishing the work in record time, Duy hurried over, wiping his hands nervously on his pants. "Ahaha, sorry to keep you waiting. What brings you here, young Uchiha?"
Jinzō's grin widened. "Uncle, did you practice the ninjutsu I gave you?"
Duy blinked. "Y-You mean that one? I did… actually, it was easier than I expected."
The boy's eyes lit up. "Good. Then why haven't you shown results yet? Minato and Kushina mastered it in a single night. You dragging your feet, old man?"
Caught off guard, Duy stammered. "Wait—you practiced it too? But the scroll said anyone who learns it can't use regular ninjutsu afterward. That's why I even tried—because I had no talent for ninjutsu at all. But you… you're an Uchiha! How can you…?"
Realization struck him like a kunai. "You're Uchiha Jinzō!?"
The boy folded his arms. "Congratulations, Uncle. Took you long enough."
Everyone knew his reputation: the only Uchiha who couldn't use ninjutsu. A clan prodigy in reverse.
Duy laughed awkwardly, unsure if he'd just been insulted.
Jinzō leaned in, voice low and sharp. "So here's the deal. If you can't master that ninjutsu tonight, you've got one other option." His grin turned wolfish. "Beat me."
Duy's jaw dropped. "Th-that's it?"
"That's it," Jinzō said cheerfully, though his eyes gleamed with something darker.
The older man frowned in confusion, then suddenly brightened, tears welling up. "So that's it! You came here to inspire me! Such kindness… such noble spirit!"
"Uh…" Jinzō scratched his cheek. That wasn't quite what he'd meant. But hey, if it worked, it worked.
Duy clenched his fists with determination. "Don't worry, young man. Even if it takes ten or twenty years, I'll master that ninjutsu."
"…Or," Jinzō added casually, "you could just fight me right now."
Duy paled. Every time the boy opened his mouth, his heart skipped a beat.
But Jinzō's grin only widened. "Don't underestimate me, Uncle. I'm stronger than I look."
His real goal gleamed at the edge of his thoughts: the forbidden power only Duy was rumored to know. The one that could end a battle in a single strike.
The Eight Gates Formation.