The side effects from striking the iron ingot manifested.
Fatigue seeped into the marrow of his bones, every muscle in his body silently protesting.
This deep soreness, radiating from within, was far more punishing than a full day of physical training at the Academy.
Roy lay sprawled flat on the floor, feeling the coldness of the wood.
He regulated his breathing, suppressing the discomfort in his stomach.
Then, hunger followed.
He didn't get up.
Keeping his mind clear, he began to review the practice session.
The speed at which he gathered power was 0.1 seconds faster than yesterday; a progress, but the energy consumption had increased by three percent.
He quickly identified the cause.
He had been a bit impatient, after all.
The power hidden within his soul was too violent, any slight emotional fluctuation could lead to a loss of control.
To master it, he needed control as precise as a machine.
About half an hour passed before his body finally obeyed his commands again.
Expressionless, Roy sat up, took out some dry rations and water from the cabinet by the moonlight filtering through the window, and mechanically stuffed them into his mouth to replenish his body's caloric needs.
The quietness of this apartment was something he had earned through exceptional caution.
After eating.
He silently returned the iron ingot and box to their places, cleaned up any traces of activity on the floor, and only then lay back down on the bed.
Before falling asleep, he emptied his mind.
The sternness faded from his face. He once again looked like an eight-year-old child.
...
The next day, at the break of dawn, Roy woke up right on time. He stood before the mirror, looking at the delicate face reflected back.
A new day meant it was time to put on a different mask.
With practiced ease, he adjusted his facial muscles, making his eyes appear gentle and curving his lips into a slight smile.
Within seconds, the cheerful, easygoing honors student, Roy, appeared in the mirror.
Dressed neatly, he stepped out of the apartment and was immediately met with the bustle of the streets.
Roy didn't head directly to the Academy; instead, he took a detour towards the Konoha Orphanage.
As a war orphan, he had lived there for a long time.
Although he now lived independently on the Academy's stipend, he still made it a point to return once or twice a week.
This served to maintain his image as a kind and nostalgic person, while also allowing him to observe something interesting.
The orphanage was like a miniature version of the outside world.
The yard was a bit worn down, the air a mix of disinfectant and the scent of children.
The elderly matron in charge smiled genuinely, though tiredly, upon seeing him.
"Roy, you're here."
"Ma'am," Roy said, handing over some food ration tickets. "I brought some tickets that are about to expire. Thought you might be able to use them."
The gift was carefully calculated... thoughtful enough, yet not conspicuous.
"Oh, you're always so considerate."
The matron accepted them gratefully.
Roy smiled, nodded, and walked into the yard.
It was breakfast time, and the children were noisily lining up for their food.
Today's breakfast was rice porridge and steamed cakes, which was pretty decent for the orphanage.
Then, something in the corner caught his attention.
A boy named Kenji, who was a head taller than the others, was blocking the view of a scrawny little girl. As the woman handing out the food turned away, he swiftly moved the only steamed cake from the girl's bowl into his own.
The movement was practiced. After succeeding, he casually turned, hiding the evidence.
The girl was too afraid to speak up, her fists clenched, tears welling up in her eyes.
Roy watched the scene calmly, feeling no particular emotion.
No anger, no sympathy.
In his eyes, this was just a display of the most basic rule: whoever had the bigger fist got the bigger share.
Kenji played the role of the one taking food, the girl was the one it was taken from, and the other children, pretending not to see, were merely the silent backdrop.
Should he step in to dispense justice?
That would be foolish.
Direct intervention would only expose him and attract a heap of trouble.
But he could choose another way to slightly correct the situation here.
His intangible mental energy spread out silently, capturing everything happening around him.
This wasn't chakra, nor any special ability; just a simple application of his mental power.
In an instant, the real-time information of the entire yard formed a clear picture in his mind: Kenji's satisfaction after stealing, the girl's suppressed grievance, the matron's route as she walked toward the water fountain, and a boy chasing another nearby who was about to slip on a wet patch on the floor.
All the pieces were in place.
Roy picked up his bowl of porridge and casually walked towards an empty spot.
As he passed behind the boy who was about to slip, there was an incredibly minute pause in his stride.
The timing was perfect.
As expected, the boy's foot slipped. He lost his balance and fell sideways with a yelp, falling directly towards where Kenji was standing.
Bang! The two boys crashed into each other.
Kenji's bowl flew out of his hand, porridge spilling everywhere, and the two steamed cakes fell to the ground, getting covered in dust.
"What's your problem?!"
Kenji roared, shoving the other boy off him.
"S-Sorry, I slipped…"
The commotion drew everyone's attention.
The matron immediately turned back. Her eyes landed on Kenji's empty bowl, and then on the two very conspicuous steamed cakes on the floor.
Her brows immediately furrowed, as each child's portion was fixed.
"Kenji," her voice became stern. "Were you stealing someone else's food again?"
"No, I wasn't! He bumped into me and knocked my bowl over!"
Kenji's face flushed red as he tried to defend himself.
"Then how do you explain the two steamed cakes on the ground?"
Kenji fell silent.
There was simply no way to explain why his bowl would have had two portions.
Amidst the commotion, Roy had already settled into the farthest corner, quietly sipping his porridge.
Just like everyone else, he was merely an ordinary onlooker drawn by the noise.
No one, absolutely no one, had noticed that nearly imperceptible pause in his step.
In the end, Kenji was punished by having his breakfast withheld, and the little girl was given a new steamed cake of her own.
And just like that, the little incident was settled.
Roy finished the last sip of his porridge and put the bowl away.
He mentally graded the operation.
Information gathering: perfect.
Timing: perfect.
Control of the outcome: perfect.
Energy expended: nearly zero.
Risk of exposure: infinitely close to zero.
A flawless plan.
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