Chapter 1
"Uchiha brat, you keep glaring at me like that?" Ayato yanked Sasuke's hair, his voice dripping with menace. Their faces were barely two centimeters apart, Sasuke's eyes blazing with a mix of fury and hatred.
But with his hair gripped tight, every time Sasuke tried to lash out, Ayato would jerk his head back, throwing off his balance and leaving him no room to strike effectively.
"Stop fighting, you two!" Ino and Sakura stood beside Ayato, trying to break it up. He shot them a quick glance but said nothing, turning his attention back to Sasuke.
Sasuke's face screamed defiance, his fingers subtly clawing at Ayato's hand. With a sudden tug, Ayato hoisted him off the ground.
"And you think you're gonna get revenge? When your brother was your age, he could take on two Kakashis." Ayato sneered.
"Who the heck is Kakashi?" Naruto, sporting a freshly bruised face, piped up from the side.
It had just been the infamous "Episode 3 kiss" moment—Naruto and Sasuke's accidental lip-lock. The second they broke apart, Naruto was swarmed and pummeled by a mob of furious fangirls.
Ayato, of course, had known this scene was coming. He'd picked the perfect spot to watch the chaos unfold with a grin. But then Sasuke caught him laughing.
No one else in class dared smirk at Sasuke. The guy was a walking time bomb—quick to throw hands, ruthless even without shuriken, and unbeatable by anyone… except Ayato.
Sasuke's glare locked onto him. Ayato wasn't about to take lip from a 2D character. He charged forward and grabbed Sasuke by the collar, starting the whole scene all over again.
"You'll find out soon enough," Ayato muttered to Naruto, his tone calm—he only snapped at people who provoked him.
Then, turning back to Sasuke: "You can't even awaken your Sharingan, you useless Uchiha. Anyone with a name in your clan at your age has at least two tomoe spinning in their eyes."
Sasuke's pupils contracted, stunned that Ayato even knew that. None of the other students—except Shikamaru—had a clue what he was talking about.
"Let Sasuke go! If you've got a problem, take it up with me!" Ino shouted beside him. Sakura echoed the same line a beat later, inwardly cursing herself for being slower.
"Take it up with you?" Ayato gave Ino a once-over, his gaze lingering on her chest. "Your melons aren't even ripe yet."
Ino clapped her hands over her "melons" and shut up.
Then Ayato turned to Sakura, frowning as he sized her up. She started to panic internally. He's not actually gonna pick on me, right? I can't beat this barbarian! But outwardly, she held his stare with forced bravado.
"Yours won't ever ripen."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Sakura shrieked, following his gaze and clutching her (flat) chest.
"Whatever. Today's the class assignment day—last time we're all together. Cut the kid some slack, Ayato," Shikamaru finally spoke up.
Ayato glanced at him, then casually tossed Sasuke to the floor. He and Shikamaru got along decently. Besides, he wasn't actually trying to hurt Sasuke—the guy was future plot armor material. Break him now, and who'd seal the white-haired chick later?
No system, no reason to overdo it. This world had a protagonist; everything would work out. Best to coast.
Sasuke hit the ground, rolled, and sprang back up—wary, poised, and clearly itching for round two. But this was just classmate drama. He still had enough sense not to pull shuriken.
Ayato ignored him and sauntered to a corner to sit. This was enough of a show. A dozen jonin were probably watching from the shadows, sizing up their future students. Push it further, and someone would step in.
Sure enough, before Sasuke could move, Iruka walked in with a clipboard. He swept the room with a neutral glance—lingering briefly on Sasuke, Ayato, then Naruto—like he hadn't just missed a brawl.
"Next: team assignments. Your jonin instructors have already chosen you. I'll call your names, then wait for your sensei to pick you up."
The class buzzed with whispers—everyone had their dream teammates, but no one had a say.
"Team 7…" "Team 8…"
Each name sparked a ripple of excitement or groans.
Ayato tuned it out. The only students getting real jonin—let alone special jonin—were the clan kids and second-gens. Sakura was the sole exception, probably riding the coattails of that weird era when her dad's "artistic" pink-haired Patrick Star phase was peak non-mainstream. Too bad the trend died fast; the guy barely got screen time after.
None of that mattered to Ayato. He figured he'd either get stuck with some chunin task-monkey or go solo as a genin.
No surname, no clan—just a Senju descendant with no one left to claim him. The village wanted him to fade into the background. Best-case scenario: stay a lifelong genin. The Senju elders were mostly dead, but if word got out there was still "good seed" left, someone might try to shove him into the Hokage seat and upset the current power balance.
Letting him rot as a civilian-level ninja was the safest play. When Tsunade eventually returned, they could claim, "Look, we treated him just like any other commoner!"
Ayato didn't stick around to watch the teams get picked up. He slipped out of the classroom and headed home.
Orphan? Sure. Poor? Hardly. Before turning into a giant tree, his dad had left him an entire street of rental properties.
His mom? Probably a Kaguya clan defector who fled Kirigakure during the war. That's what he pieced together, anyway. Villagers only knew his dad brought back a "normal woman from a small village," had a kid, and then she mysteriously died.
What they didn't know: Ayato had already awakened the Shikotsumyaku—his finger bones could shoot out like shuriken with deadly force. He'd also inherited Wood Release and the legendary Senju chakra reserves—insane regeneration included.
Somehow, he'd hit the bloodline jackpot. The two kekkei genkai canceled out the Kaguya clan's genetic sickness like it was never a problem.