I Punch the Tailed Beast Ball

This year many things have happened in the shinobi world. First, Konoha held an unprecedentedly grand joint Chūnin Exams: four Great-Village–level shinobi villages participated, along with several nearby small villages, the spectacle was unheard of.

Yet compared with another event, even this joint Chūnin Exams counts only as a minor matter.

The Five-Kage Summit was convened once again, the Kage of the Five Great Villages all gathered in Konoha to attend the conference.

Every nation in the shinobi world, large or small, paid close attention.

In the shinobi world the Five Great Nations set the rules; they are the strongest, and their might surpasses all others by more than a little.

Put simply, whether a world war erupts is in the Great Nations’ hands: if a majority of them don’t wish for war, there will be no Shinobi World War.

But if all five wage war on each other, that conflict will surely sweep across the entire shinobi world.

After Hashirama held the first Five-Kage Summit, a new order and structure took shape, and the shinobi world entered a temporary peace that lasted only as long as Hashirama lived.

Therefore, when the second Five-Kage Summit was convened, every nation watched closely, for this meeting could decide the shinobi world’s future.

Yet although such great events occurred, Konoha, the center of it all, remained oddly calm.

For example, the Ninja Academy’s brand-new school year happened to begin right now. The Academy didn’t delay a single day; it held its opening ceremony on schedule and then started classes.

All the students attended as usual; nothing changed, not even a day off to celebrate successfully hosting the Five-Kage Summit.

Notably, the Academy has now been formally divided into an elementary division and a middle-school division.

Elementary school is four years; middle school is three years; only after graduating middle school does one become a full genin.

Last year’s graduates were the final class to finish under the old six-year system.

Because the old Academy ran six years, there is still a group who were fifth-years last term and ordinarily would be sixth-years this term.

But with the new split they must take an exam, their score determines whether they enter the second year of middle school directly or start from first year.

The other grades move up normally with routine tests.

”Sigh... counting this year, I still have four more years before I can graduate and become an official shinobi.”

At the start of the new term, Hyūga Hanayo couldn’t summon much energy.

Thanks to the new year she is now a third-year student.

Originally she would have graduated in sixth year, but the reform turned six years into four years of elementary plus three years of middle, seven years total.

What really stings is that only recently she watched Kabuto take first place in the Chūnin Exams and advance to chūnin.

She is still a ways off from becoming a genin, yet Kabuto is already a chūnin, Hanayo can’t help feeling bleak.

At this rate, by the time she graduates, Kabuto might already be a jōnin.

How could they ever do missions together? When a jōnin teams with a genin, it’s usually as a squad leader or instructor.

Hanayo had thought about graduating early, she planned to apply at the end of this third-grade year.

But her parents objected, telling her to train more at the Academy.

Hanayo couldn’t push it; she didn’t want to argue with parents who treated her so well.

Under the new system, third year is actually the last chance to graduate early; once you reach fourth year you simply advance to middle school, no longer ”early.”

So we may never again see a prodigy who graduates in a single year; at best a two-year genius might appear, one year of elementary school, one year of middle school.

With a new term begun, most students were excited. Before the teacher arrived, they chattered eagerly about vacation adventures: new games they had played, a relative who gave them a handsome kunai...

Students are always like this: in class they find lessons dull and homework a pain; but during a long break, before long they miss school life, miss chatting and playing with friends, and yearn for classes to start, only to begin longing for vacation again as soon as school starts.

Listening to the lively chatter, Hanayo suddenly felt that people’s joys and sorrows are different; she found them noisy.

Sure enough, aside from Kabuto, the boys my age are all so immature, she sighed.

Not to boast, but Hanayo knew she looked pretty. Grown-ups had always said so, and children around her always wanted to be friends.

Those childish boys tried to attract her attention by teasing her, only to be subdued on the spot by her Gentle Fist.

Others would pass noisily in front of her bragging about test scores or showing off gifts they’d received.

Childish, far too childish!

Hanayo propped her chin in her hand and began day-dreaming about life after graduation.

But she never imagined the Academy’s changes were only beginning; in the future there might even be a four-year ”university.”

After a simple day of classes ended, Hanayo was about to go home when she spotted Kabuto waiting by the gate.

Her eyes lit up and she greeted him.

Kabuto walked over.

”Were you waiting for someone?” she asked.

”Mhm, I was waiting for you.”

So they strolled together at a leisurely pace.

When Hanayo asked why he’d sought her out, Kabuto answered, ”You gave me a gift when I became a chūnin, so I prepared a start-of-term present for you.”

He produced a scroll, unsealed it, and took out a delicate little box.

Handing it to her, he scratched his head and said, ”It isn’t anything fancy, just sushi I made myself. I hope you don’t mind.”

Recently he had donated money for renovating the orphanage and building a new cafeteria.

Besides funding, he had helped with the work and asked the cooks for lessons, figuring that if Nagasawa’s laziness struck again and he just handed Kabuto cash or brought back a stick of dango, Kabuto could cook for himself.

With that in mind, he’d learned some cooking.

Because Hanayo so often gave him gifts, Kabuto felt he should repay her.

”Mind? Of course not, I’m curious to taste your cooking,” Hanayo said with a bright smile.

Kabuto making sushi specially for her was a surprise, and filled her with joy. Even her memories of that dull day’s lessons now seemed less boring.

”As long as you’re happy,” Kabuto replied, smiling.

Since Kabuto knew where Hanayo lived, they weren’t wandering aimlessly; they were heading toward her house.

Along the way he asked about her studies.

”About the same as ever. But since you left, I’m top of the class,” Hanayo said.

”That’s great. I’m sure you’ll become an excellent kunoichi soon,” Kabuto said.

At that, Hanayo’s spirits suddenly deflated like a punctured balloon.

”It’ll still be a long time... The Academy is now elementary plus middle school, seven years total, and I’ve only just started year three,” she said sadly.

”That’s not so bad. After the middle-school phase, the training will be much more intensive than before,” Kabuto said with a smile.

He knew all about the Academy reform, the initiator was Nagasawa, who had mentioned it in casual conversation.

Kabuto remembered Nagasawa saying there would eventually be a university.

Unlike middle school, university wouldn’t be easy to enter; only students who studied seriously and had real talent could pass the exam.

Nagasawa’s goal was to cultivate elite shinobi who would specialize deeply in various fields.

Of course, university wouldn’t be mandatory, you could still graduate middle school and become a genin.

”It’s fine, but...” Hanayo trailed off. She couldn’t say, I don’t want us doing missions together as teacher and pupil.

Having a former classmate become her instructor after graduation, what kind of situation was that?

She kept silent; with Kabuto’s meteoric rise, it wasn’t impossible.

”Study hard and train diligently,” Kabuto said, patting her head.

He found it strange, he had always been the one getting head-pats.

Now, running his hand over her glossy black hair, Kabuto felt an odd sense of achievement.

No wonder Nagasawa, Nono, and even the Third Hokage liked patting his head, apparently it was satisfying.

Hanayo’s feelings were also strange. They were the same age, yet one was a third-year Academy student and the other a freshly minted chūnin.

When Kabuto finally saw Hanayo’s house ahead, he stopped. ”See you. I’ll come find you again when I have time.”

Hanayo nodded lightly and carried the box inside.

Only after watching her go in did Kabuto depart.

Elsewhere, in the Uchiha compound, Izumi had only just come home from school when she saw Itachi at her door.

”Itachi, what brings you here?” She trotted up happily.

Usually she sought him out; he rarely came to her, so she felt as delighted as a child given candy.

”There’s something I need to tell you. Let’s walk to the river,” Itachi said.

On the way he spoke little, just mentioned that he’d passed the Special Ops assessment and become an official member.

Reaching the riverbank they sat together.

Itachi produced a bag of dango and handed half to her.

”Just bought them. Have some,” he said, as concise as ever.

”Wow! Something great must have happened for you to be so nice,” Izumi beamed.

He’d come to find her and even brought food, she was overjoyed.

”Something great?” Itachi thought, then shook his head. Parting didn’t count as happy news; if anything, it was sad.

”I’m leaving the village soon, so I came to say goodbye. No need to look for me; I’ll inform you when I return,” he said.

”A mission outside the village? Will it take long if you’re making special farewells?” Izumi asked.

”I’m not on a mission, I’m going to travel,” Itachi explained.

Izumi stared wide-eyed; she hadn’t expected that.

”Why the sudden urge to travel?” she blurted. She couldn’t understand, but she knew Itachi wasn’t just going to have fun.

He thought for a moment, then answered earnestly, ”Because of the ideal in my heart.”

...

Izumi suddenly felt a sad, thick wall between them.

They were both still single-digit in age, yet Itachi was already so extraordinary, talking about leaving the village to fulfill an ideal.

But then, she remembered: this was Uchiha Itachi, the clan prodigy.

While other Uchiha children skipped stones, he practiced shuriken; while they played kick-the-can, he trained ninjutsu.

Someone like that was bound to be different.

”How long will you be gone? When will you return?” she asked, forcing a smile to hide her sorrow.

”I don’t know,” Itachi shook his head.

”When I’ve walked the whole Land of Fire, I suppose I’ll come back.”

”Sounds wonderful. Do your best, okay?” Izumi lost her usual playfulness but still tried hard to say goodbye cheerfully.

”Mhm. If all goes well, I’ll bring you a souvenir,” Itachi said.

After they finished the dango, Izumi didn’t chat as long as usual; instead she fled home.

Watching her back disappear, Itachi stood silently.

He was a perceptive boy; he could read emotions easily.

He knew Izumi’s smile was forced; inside she was already weeping.

But he couldn’t stop for that, not even for Sasuke would he halt his steps.