More than half a month passed quietly.
During that time, Shin followed his training and study schedule without the slightest lapse. Only occasionally did he head into the village proper—taking a stroll, enjoying the scenery, and giving himself a moment to relax.
After all, checking in at famous landmarks and eating a bowl of the legendary Ichiraku Ramen was one of the great pleasures of arriving in the ninja world.
Unfortunately, the taste of Ichiraku ramen was merely decent. It wasn't some glowing, otherworldly delicacy.
Life in Konohagakure went on as usual. Villagers lived ordinary lives, ninja carried out their respective duties, and there was no sense of tension in the air. For the moment, there were no signs of a ninja war on the horizon.
Shin had almost no interaction with children his own age.
By ordinary standards, it might have seemed like an abnormal childhood—but he didn't care. In his previous life, his childhood had actually been a happy one. He carried no emotional scars that needed healing.
Given a second chance at life, he devoted nearly every moment to self-improvement.
That day was no different.
Shin rose early, trained at the practice field, then returned home to eat and study.
Megumi usually worked at the hospital until evening. She cooked in the morning and stored the food in the refrigerator, leaving Shin to simply heat it up at mealtimes.
Shin had once said he could cook for himself, but Megumi had firmly refused, calling it "not depriving a mother of her joy."
Shin didn't argue, and for two years, things had remained that way.
Today, however, was slightly different.
When Shin finished his morning studies and opened the refrigerator to prepare lunch, he found only a single prepared portion. The rest were raw ingredients.
Had Mom forgotten? Impossible.
A medical Special Jōnin like Higashino Megumi would never make such a mistake.
Shin glanced at the wall calendar and immediately understood.
A little after seven in the evening, a sudden knock sounded at the door.
Shin set aside the scroll in his hands, stood up, and opened it.
Outside stood a tall young man with an ordinary face. His black hair was tied into a short ponytail halfway down his head. A ninja sword was strapped to his back, and he wore Konoha's standard green flak vest, scuffed and travel-worn.
The moment he saw Shin, the man's stern expression broke into a bright grin. He raised his right thumb, white teeth flashing.
"Yo, kid—surprised? Happy to see me?"
Shin: "…"
"Kid, what's with that look?"
"Welcome home, Father."
"Don't be so stiff. Can't you show a little joy? Give your old man some sense of accomplishment."
"Like this?" Shin paused to think seriously, then replied, "Fine. If that's all you want, I can do it."
With a loud bang, he slammed the door shut.
Outside, the man pressed a hand to his forehead, sighed deeply, and knocked again.
The door reopened.
Shin now wore a look of pure, innocent delight. "Dad, you're back!"
"…There's zero sense of accomplishment now." Higashino Jiro deadpanned, then knocked Shin lightly on the head. "What an unlovable son."
"What a hard-to-please father."
Jiro didn't seem surprised—he was clearly used to it. Walking straight inside, he asked curiously, "Shin, you knew I was coming back today?"
"More or less."
"Your mom told you?"
"She didn't. I guessed."
"Oh?" Jiro raised an eyebrow. "Let's hear the reasoning."
"First, today is March twenty-fifth. Second, judging from your mission rotation over the past year, today was the most likely return date."
"Sharp as ever." Jiro nodded approvingly, then suddenly thought of something. "Did you also guess what mission I was on?"
"More or less."
"Oh-ho, better than Dad expected." Jiro ruffled Shin's hair cheerfully. "Alright, I'll go wash up. Your mom should be back soon."
Shin watched his father head toward the bathroom, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
This was his biological father in the ninja world—Higashino Jiro.
As for the mission, Shin could indeed guess. Most likely border patrol.
Aside from ANBU, most in-village missions were routine, like clocking in at an office—no need to leave home. Client missions outside the village varied wildly in length and had no predictable pattern.
Only border garrison duties followed fixed rotation schedules.
Although no full-scale war had broken out, the borders were far from peaceful.
Combining information from his previous life with what he had learned after arriving in this world, Shin knew the so-called peace between the Second and Third Ninja Wars was anything but calm.
Border skirmishes were constant.
Apart from the Hidden Mist Village, Konoha, Sunagakure, Iwagakure, and the Hidden Cloud Village, all maintained large forces along one another's borders.
All it would take was a spark. And that spark would eventually be you—oh, mighty Third Kazekage.
The shinobi stationed at those borders were mostly ordinary ninja—civilian-born families like his own.
When Megumi returned home, she was carrying several large boxes. Soon, the table was filled with food, and a birthday cake was placed at the center.
The lights were turned off. Candles were lit.
Shin made his wish and blew them out.
The lights came back on.
"Shin, happy birthday!"
"Thank you—thank you, Father, Mother!"
Today was Higashino Shin's fourth birthday.
Looking at his young parents, he felt genuine happiness.
His soul was already forty. He had long since outgrown hot-blooded ideals.
Changing the tragedies of the original story or pursuing peace in the ninja world no longer interested him—he lacked the power and the desire.
But this complete, warm family was his soul's safe harbor in this world.
Something he absolutely had to protect.
This time, his gratitude was sincere—no teasing, no jokes.
Jiro took a sip of sake and sighed. "Our Shin is perfect in every way… except that he's too precocious. He doesn't have a single friend. Not one peer came to celebrate his birthday."
Megumi nodded. "He probably thinks the other children are too childish. He won't even attend preschool."
"There'll be friends once I enter the Ninja Academy," Shin replied.
Konoha ran preschools—essentially kindergartens—primarily for civilian families whose parents worked full-time.
They also accepted children from smaller clans loyal to the Hokage, such as the Yamanaka and Nara.
As for large traditional clans like the Uchiha and Hyūga, early education was handled internally.
These preschools accepted children at age three, offering basic education while screening candidates for the Ninja Academy. After all, not every child possessed ninja potential.
Failing to draw out the chakra after six years would waste both the child's time and the village's resources.
"Shin, this is your present from Mom!" Megumi produced a brand-new thigh-strap ninja pouch.
"Thank you, Mom!" Shin accepted it gladly. He already owned two pouches, but both were worn at the back waist.
"And this one's from me." Jiro handed him a short sword.
Shin drew it and examined the blade.
It was straight and pitch-black, resembling standard Anbu equipment. Unlike Kumogakure ninja, Konoha—aside from sword-specialist families like the Gekkō—rarely used long katana.
The length suited his age.
The problem was the blade.
It was wooden. Dense and heavy, unlikely to snap easily—but still wood.
Shin stared at his father expressionlessly.
"What?" Jiro snorted. "Not satisfied? This is forged from Land of Iron black-iron wood—hard as iron, perfect for practice. You want a real blade? Too dangerous for you right now."
"Your father's right," Megumi added. "A real sword is still too early."
"No, I'm very satisfied." Shin bowed slightly. "Thank you, Father. I was going to ask you to teach me how to extract chakra."
The Higashino study contained many books and scrolls—but only basic theory and reference material. No chakra extraction methods. No ninjutsu.
Attempting to train the chakra without guidance was dangerous.
Clearly, his parents had anticipated this.
They exchanged glances, originally planning to refuse. They had intended to begin instruction a year later.
But remembering their son's precocity—and recalling the village's other prodigy who graduated from the Ninja Academy at five and became Chūnin at six—they finally made a decision.
Jiro nodded solemnly. "Very well."
Shin's heart leapt. Finally. The most important step of my ninja life.
Then he watched his father hand him a key. "Provided you can find them."
Shin: "…"
Since it had come to this, he might as well eat first.