The morning sun spilled across the village, its light soft and pleasant, imbuing the world with a sense of vibrant, waking life.
"I'm off!"
The clear, youthful voice echoed from the gates of a large courtyard. Minato, vibrant and full of energy, stepped out to begin his brand-new day. He set a steady pace toward the Konoha Ninja Academy.
Surprisingly, the high-intensity training from the night before had left no mark on him. There was no stiffness in his joints, no lingering burn in his muscles; on the contrary, his body felt even more lithe than when he had woken up.
At seven years old, my recovery shouldn't be this complete, he mused, his mind automatically dissecting the anomaly. Even with a high baseline for chakra refinement, the physical limits of a child's body are a hard wall. This speed of recovery... it makes no sense.
Unable to solve the riddle himself, he decided on a course of action. I'll ask Shirota-sensei once I get to the Academy. Shirota Hon was a Chunin with a reputation for being more of a scholar than a frontline warrior. While his combat prowess wasn't legendary, his depth of knowledge was respected even by the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi. To a first-year student like Minato, Shirota-sensei was an encyclopedia of the Shinobi world.
As Minato walked, he thought of the Third Hokage—the "Ninjutsu Professor" whose vast repertoire of techniques kept the Four Great Nations at bay. The peace Konoha enjoyed was a shadow cast by the Third's formidable strength. Minato knew that if he ever hoped to stand on that same pedestal, he would have to surpass every predecessor carved into that stone cliff.
The streets were already humming with activity. Shopkeepers rolled up their shutters, and the scent of fresh bread and brewing tea filled the air. Seeing the mundane peace of the villagers, Minato couldn't help but let a small, satisfied smile reach his eyes.
"Minato!"
A light, pleasant voice pulled him from his thoughts. He stopped and turned.
Approaching him was a girl his own age with long, silken black hair and dark, intelligent eyes. She carried herself with a grace that felt both innate and disciplined.
"Mikoto, good morning!"
Minato's smile widened, radiating a genuine warmth. Uchiha Mikoto was one of his classmates. While the Uchiha name was often synonymous with an overbearing, fierce pride, Mikoto was an outlier. She was soft-spoken and genuinely kind—one of the few people Minato considered a true friend in the class.
"Good morning," Mikoto replied, her eyes crinkling in a smile. Minato noticed a small cloth bag clutched in her hands.
"Have you had breakfast yet?" she asked, reaching into the bag to pull out a neatly wrapped rice ball. She held it out to him, though her gaze dropped slightly.
"Here... my mother taught me how to make these yesterday. I wanted to share them with the class at lunch, but I'm worried they might not taste very good. Would you... try one for me first?"
She looked up at him, her expression a mix of hope and a distinct lack of confidence in her culinary first-timer status.
"If it's something you made, Mikoto, it'll be great," Minato said without a hint of hesitation.
Mikoto blinked, momentarily stunned by the absolute certainty in his voice. As she looked into his clear blue eyes, the unease that had been knotting her stomach seemed to melt away. There was something infectious about Minato's confidence—a quiet strength that made people trust him as naturally as breathing.
"Thanks!" she said, her smile turning bright.
"We should still share them with everyone at lunch," Minato added as they began walking together toward the Academy. "Food tastes better when you're eating with friends."
The classroom was still mostly empty when they arrived. The other six and seven-year-olds were likely still clinging to their blankets. Mikoto went to her seat, carefully tucking her bag of rice balls away, while Minato pulled a tactical handbook from his desk and began to read.
A few minutes later, the door slid open. A man in a standard Konoha flak jacket walked in. Shirota-sensei didn't look like a killer; he had the gentle, slightly tired eyes of a librarian.
"Shirota-sensei, good morning," Minato and Mikoto said in unison, standing to bow.
"Good morning, you two," Shirota Hon replied, his smile genuine. He had a soft spot for the polite, high-achieving pair.
Minato stepped forward, bowing a second time. "Sensei, do you have a moment? I have some questions regarding my training."
"Of course, Minato. Solving a student's doubts is the best part of the job."
Minato explained the "unusual" physical sensations he'd experienced after his drills. He was careful, however, to omit the specific intensity of his training. His future-self's instincts warned him that revealing the true scale of his current power would draw the kind of attention a seven-year-old child from an ordinary background shouldn't have.
Shirota-sensei listened intently, then performed a brief, non-invasive check of Minato's chakra pathways.
"You don't need to worry," the teacher concluded with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Chakra refinement usually happens in steps, but occasional 'growth spurts' aren't unheard of. Your body is just adapting. Just remember to balance your hard work with rest—you're still growing, after all."
Minato nodded, the feigned worry in his heart dissipating as he bowed in gratitude. "Thank you, Shirota-sensei."
"You're a good kid, Minato," Shirota said, turning back to his desk. "Oh, before you sit down—we're having a new student transfer into our class today. Make sure you and Mikoto make them feel welcome."
Minato and Mikoto shared a curious glance and nodded. Given their temperaments, they couldn't imagine a newcomer they wouldn't welcome with open arms.