Sasuke Uchiha's jaw tightened as he watched Hinata stand victorious in the ring. His frown deepened. "So he was holding back."
The words tasted bitter. Around him, classmates buzzed with excitement, crowding the arena to shower Hinata with praise. She accepted it with quiet grace, but her eyes remained fixed on Meian.
No one else noticed—not the Academy students, not even Iruka Umino. But Hinata saw the deliberation in Meian's movements, the restraint in his strikes. She knew he had let her win.
When the assessments finally ended and the crowd dispersed to the next matches, Hinata approached him. She kept her head down, fingers twisted nervously together.
"I'm sorry, Meian," she said softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Meian was already straightening, his body's natural healing having mended the damage minutes ago. He looked up and smiled—genuine and unburdened. "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. I just need to train harder, that's all."
Hinata lifted her head, her pale eyes searching his face. "You were holding back, weren't you? I felt it. You're stronger than you showed."
It wasn't a question.
Meian's smile widened slightly. He appreciated her directness. "Your Gentle Fist is fast—faster than most people can react to. But you hesitate before striking. When the moment comes, you have to commit fully. Don't second-guess yourself."
Hinata's cheeks flushed at the praise. "Thank you, Meian."
Neither spoke after that. When the assessments concluded and scores were posted, Meian found himself ranked squarely in the middle of the class—unremarkable, exactly as he'd intended.
---
After school, Meian made his way to the training grounds as always. He dropped his bag on a bench and settled into his usual spot, watching the older academy instructors put younger students through their paces.
Footsteps approached from behind. Meian didn't turn; he'd sensed the chakra signature long before.
"You're not heading home," Kakashi Hatake said, coming to stand beside him.
"Watching," Meian replied, eyes fixed on the sparring below.
"For what?"
"Ninjutsu. Any level. Anything they'll throw at each other."
Kakashi was quiet for a moment. His curiosity, already piqued by the day's assessment, sharpened. "You want to learn?"
"That's the idea."
"Have you studied any techniques yet?"
Meian glanced up, excitement breaking through his composure. "I know the Transformation Technique and the Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique. Pretty impressive, right?"
Kakashi's eye widened. The Great Fireball Technique was a C-rank jutsu—respectable, even for newer Genin. For a six-year-old with no formal training to claim mastery was either arrogance or genuine ability. "You're certain you can perform it?"
"Mm-hmm."
Kakashi studied the boy more carefully now. He'd verified Meian's background weeks ago—orphaned in the Nine-Tailed Fox attack, no living relatives, civilian status. Yet here he was, casually claiming C-rank jutsu like it was nothing. The curiosity that had been merely intellectual moments ago became something sharper.
They stood in silence as the sun descended toward the horizon. Training wound down, instructors calling students to wrap up their drills. By the time darkness began to creep across the field, the grounds were empty.
Meian sighed. "Nobody used ninjutsu today."
He rose, shouldering his bag with visible disappointment.
Kakashi watched him turn to leave, didn't stop him at first. But something made him call out: "Meian. Wait."
The boy paused, glancing back. "Hmm?"
Kakashi took a breath. He'd already made a decision. "That jutsu you mentioned—the Great Fireball Technique. You were serious?"
"Yeah. Why?" Meian was already curious about where this was going.
"Do you know who I am?"
Meian tilted his head, considering. He obviously recognized Kakashi, but he chose his words carefully. "Someone important, probably. At least Jōnin-rank."
"How did you deduce that?"
"Your vest," Meian said flatly, as if the answer were obvious. "Academy students learn to read rank insignia."
Kakashi nearly smiled. He'd expected a more dramatic answer. He walked closer, standing directly in front of the boy. "My name is Kakashi Hatake. I think you should know that I—"
"Never heard of you," Meian interrupted.
Kakashi's composure flickered. His mouth twitched. He chose not to argue. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I know a great deal of ninjutsu."
Meian's eyes sharpened with interest. "How much?"
"More than I could teach you in a month," Kakashi said, gambling on the boy's hunger for knowledge.
It worked. Meian's whole posture shifted, his gaze fixed on Kakashi with sudden intensity. "Can you teach me?"
Kakashi regarded him for a long moment. A civilian orphan with impossible talent, an appetite for jutsu, and a mind sharp enough to ask the right questions. The Copy Ninja had spent years searching for students worthy of his time.
Maybe he'd just found one.
"Follow me," Kakashi said, turning toward the darkening street. "We'll start tomorrow, after your Academy classes. And Meian—if you're going to learn ninjutsu, you'll learn it the right way. No shortcuts."
Meian nodded, a small smile playing at his lips.
For the first time in years, Kakashi felt the weight of teaching differently. Not as a burden, but as possibility.
---