Chapter 25: The Classroom Stage
Namikaze Minato's friendly wave cut through the tense atmosphere like a beam of sunlight. Reitō offered a small, genuine smile in return—the first real one since learning the horrific truth—and made his way to the empty seat beside him. As he sat, he noticed the girl on Minato's other side. She had a cascade of vibrant, fiery red hair, a rarity in Konoha outside of one specific, nearly-extinct lineage. Her bearing was bold, her chin held high.
Before he could inquire, she turned and fixed him with a pair of brilliant, challenging blue eyes. "Uzumaki Kushina!" she announced, her voice loud and clear, preempting any introduction from Minato.
Of course it's her, Reitō thought, his analytical mind slotting the piece into place. The future container of the Nine-Tails, the woman who would stand beside the Hokage. Her presence here, vibrant and unbroken, was a stark contrast to the grim fate he knew awaited her. It made the weight of his own foreknowledge feel heavier.
Surveying the rest of the class, he noted the familiar trio huddled together—the seeds of the future Ino-Shika-Chō alliance, already exhibiting their nascent dynamics. The remaining six seats were occupied by the Uchiha children, their collective gaze a palpable wall of resentment directed at him. The rumor was true: Class A was a Uchiha stronghold, and he was the interloper.
The classroom door swung open with a decisive click, and two men entered, their contrasting auras immediately altering the room's energy.
The first was tall and rigid, his face set in lines of permanent sternness. His eyes, sharp and unforgiving, swept over the students as if inspecting troops for flaws. The second man was his opposite: of average height, with a gentle, perpetually smiling face that didn't quite reach his observant, calculating eyes. To Reitō's heightened perception, that smile was a mask, worn with practiced ease but utterly devoid of genuine warmth.
The stern teacher reached the lectern first. "My name is Uno," he stated, his voice like gravel. "Let me be clear: your admission to Class A means nothing. It is a starting point, not an achievement. In my class, there is only one standard: measurable, demonstrable competence. Meet it, and you remain. Fail to meet it, and you will be removed. Sentiment, lineage, and past accolades are irrelevant here. The world outside these walls is harsh, and I will not send out half-formed shinobi to die because I was soft."
A chill settled over the room. This was not the inspiring speech many had anticipated.
The smiling teacher, Sai, glided forward, placing a calming hand on the lectern as if to soften its edges. "Now, now, Uno-sensei, you'll frighten them on the first day." He turned his benign smile to the class. "I am Teacher Sai. Please ignore his dramatics. I have every confidence that each of you, with diligent effort, will graduate to become proud, capable ninjas of Konoha. We are here to guide you, not to intimidate you."
His words elicited relieved sighs from several students, but Reitō remained unmoved. Sai? The name triggered a cascade of future knowledge. In the timeline he knew, Sai was a Root operative, a blank slate molded by Danzō. The coincidence was too stark. This man's smile was too perfect, his empathy too polished. He wasn't just a teacher; he was a collector, an observer planted here to assess the next generation's loyalties and weaknesses, likely for the shadowy organization that operated in the Hokage's name.
Uno-sensei scoffed audibly at Sai's placation. "Kindness is a luxury we cannot afford, Sai-sensei. Intelligence from the Land of Rain suggests Hanzo's grip is slipping. The Tsuchikage mobilizes. When Iwagakure's boot finally crushes Amegakure, our neutrality will be a memory. Konoha will be drawn into the conflict. You," he jabbed a finger at the class, "may be children today, but the war does not care for age. You must be ready to become soldiers at a moment's notice. Do you understand me?"
His final shout was a drill sergeant's bark, meant to shatter any remaining illusions. The room was utterly silent, the gravity of the wider world crashing into their sheltered classroom.
"Very well, Uno-sensei, your point is made," Sai-sensei said smoothly, his smile never wavering. He seamlessly changed the subject. "Let us begin with introductions. Share your names and your… aspirations. It helps us know you."
As the Uchiha students stood one by one, their declarations were variations on a theme: to restore the Uchiha's glory, to make their clan's name feared and respected across the ninja world. Their pride was absolute, their vision insular. Reitō noted the slight tightening around Sai-sensei's eyes, a flicker of cold assessment. He sees them as a problem, Reitō deduced. Clans whose primary loyalty is to themselves, not to the village. He's here to identify who can be molded, and who might need to be… managed.
Then it was the Ino-Shika-Chō trio's turn. Their stated ideal, delivered with a surprising lack of teenage awkwardness, was "to inherit the Will of Fire and protect the village like our esteemed senpai." It was a polished, politically safe answer. Seeing the slight discomfort on Yamanaka and Akimichi's faces, Reitō almost smiled. That has Nara Shikaku's strategic mind written all over it. Even now, he's playing the long game.
Finally, it was Uzumaki Kushina's turn. She didn't just stand; she erupted from her chair, a force of nature in a red whirlwind. Planting her hands on her hips, she declared to the entire room, her voice ringing with unwavering conviction, "My dream is to become Konoha's Hokage!"
For a beat, there was stunned silence. Then, it was broken by derisive snorts and open laughter from the Uchiha section.
"Hah! The Hokage? You?"
"Listen to the tomato-headed girl! Since when has a woman ever led the ninja world?"
"Yeah, go back to weaving or something!"
Kushina's face flushed a shade darker than her hair, but it was with fury, not embarrassment. She whirled on her detractors, her small fists clenched, blue eyes blazing. "You wanna say that again, you pompous, pink-eyed pigeons?! I'll give you a new color scheme around those arrogant eyes—how about a nice, matching black and blue?!"
The classroom crackled with sudden, volatile energy. The divide was no longer just between clans, but between a future etched in old prejudices and a defiant, roaring flame that refused to be quenched. And Reitō, sitting between the calm brilliance of Minato and the volcanic passion of Kushina, understood that his education had truly begun. It wasn't just about ninjutsu; it was about navigating the treacherous currents of loyalty, ambition, and the very soul of the village he now had to call home.