"Instructor Fujino, that guy is going way too far!"
The voice echoed through the classroom as Instructor Fujino Daikichi observed Seiran slumped against his desk, fast asleep. Another sigh escaped him—one of many that day.
After decades of teaching, he'd never encountered a Hyuga quite like this one. Lazy didn't begin to cover it. The boy slept through lectures and vanished the moment class ended. It was as if the entire Hyuga legacy meant nothing to him.
A prestigious clan, and this is what they produce?
Take Rin Uchiha by comparison. Top marks in everything, constantly pushing Kakashi for first place. Or Hyuga Iroha—while not quite at their level, her relentless work ethic more than compensated. And then there was Seiran.
Fujino felt his receding hairline throb with frustration. At this rate, he'd need to start brewing medicinal tea just to cope.
---
If Seiran had heard those thoughts, he'd have protested vehemently. Yes, he slept in class—but he worked hard outside it. His Electromagnetic Manipulation wouldn't level itself. Grinding at night made far more sense than drowning in lectures. Besides, he'd been fishing daily, stockpiling ore, and selling the excess for cash. His experience points had skyrocketed. Wasn't that more practical than Fujino's endless droning?
Seiran stretched luxuriously, wiping drool from his mouth. When he glanced sideways, he caught Anko Mitarashi watching him with unconcealed admiration between bites of dango.
"Huh? Class is over?" he mumbled.
"Seiran, you're seriously brave!" Anko grinned. "Instructor Fujino stared daggers at you the entire second half!"
That explains the chill.
He turned and immediately felt a colder stare. Hyuga Iroha sat rigidly in front of him, her eyes burning with barely contained irritation. The two shared Hyuga blood but little else. She'd confronted him repeatedly, accusing him of embarrassing the clan. She'd even challenged him—trying to prove he wasn't some reckless troublemaker.
Seiran had politely declined. One wrong move with his Magnetic Storm Palm and he'd send her flying. He genuinely worried about accidentally crippling her.
Not that he'd improved slowly. His Electromagnetic Manipulation was steadily climbing, and his physical conditioning had reached new heights. He could unleash his Magnetic Storm Palm in an instant now. Gentle Fist versus raw magnetic force—she'd get obliterated.
He'd discovered something interesting during his training: enhanced fitness strengthened his biomagnetic field, which in turn deepened his control. But there was a limit. An invisible ceiling. It was like hitting a locked door.
The level caps authority. Level 1 has its boundaries. Higher levels grant greater command. Eventually, with enough power, crushing mountains or dragging planets would be possible. He had far to climb.
---
After school, Seiran made for the river.
His old mining site had run dry. Today, he pushed upstream to fresh territory. Same routine: fish, pan, grind.
Two iron skewers orbited slowly around his body as he stood knee-deep in rushing water. But this time, two long iron plates were lashed to his back, sinking and dragging against the current. His "Version 2.0" upgrade.
He magnetized them, drawing ore from the riverbed with far greater efficiency. The holy trinity had become muscle memory.
The problem was speed. His level growth crawled like a crippled turtle. If he didn't discover new techniques soon, he'd never break through before year's end.
Seiran waded through the current methodically. When exhaustion crept in, he'd rest. When strength returned, he'd resume. He'd even developed electromagnetic adsorption—magnetizing the soles of his feet to anchor himself against the riverbed's suction.
The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky amber and crimson. Seiran decided he'd gathered enough. He hauled himself onto the bank, about to sort his haul when a faint crackling sound drifted from the forest.
His body went rigid.
An illusion?
No—the sound was real, distant but distinct. Seiran activated his Byakugan.
Through its expanded vision, he spotted a slender girl dozens of meters away, striking a wooden post with precise, rhythmic force. Bandaged palms connected over and over, each blow clean and controlled.
His brow tightened.
He recognized her. The overachiever from class—the one always competing with Kakashi for top rank. He remembered her wrestling him during the shuriken test, all desperate energy and stubborn determination.
Rin Uchiha.
The Scroll King is still training at this hour?
Seiran moved carefully, trying to retreat unnoticed. This stretch of river was upstream—far too close to Uchiha territory. He'd been careless.
Why train in the forest instead of the training grounds? he thought irritably. You an Uchiha too, fishing for experience points?
He'd almost made it when a shout exploded from the trees.
"Who's there?!"
A shuriken cut through the air like a silver blur, streaking straight for his chest.