Noon passed quickly. For a group of kids who weren't officially shinobi yet, their greatest strengths—aside from boundless curiosity and short attention spans—were their bottomless energy reserves.
Not long after lunch, many students were already growing restless, eagerly awaiting the return of the legendary apprentices of the Third Hokage.
But for some reason, the "Legendary Sannin"—the trio known for perversion, gambling, and creepy experimentation—still hadn't shown up.
Could Tsunade be preparing Jiraiya's funeral or something? Uchiha Tatsumi mused.
"Man, it's scorching today," he muttered, lying back on a picnic cloth spread under the shade of a large tree. In his hands was a book: A Beginner's Guide to Chakra Nature and Shape Transformation.
This was no idle reading—Tatsumi knew this was core ninja knowledge. Without a grasp on these principles, there was no way to become strong. Even someone like Naruto had only managed to create the Wind Style: Rasenshuriken thanks to Yamato's help and Kakashi's guidance in chakra nature manipulation.
Fortunately, Uchiha Tatsumi had an advantage. With the added insight of his system and natural aptitude, he was absorbing this information far more easily.
"Konoha's pretty temperate in the center of the Land of Fire," Mikoto replied softly, shading her eyes. "But the southern regions? Definitely worse."
"Watergate, not even going to take a break or drink some tea?" Tatsumi asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy training in the sun.
"It's fine," Minato Namikaze replied, drenched in sweat but determined. "I'd rather spend the time improving."
"You're wasting your effort," Tatsumi said frankly, shaking his head. "You know how chakra capacity works, right? We're still kids. The amount we can safely mold and store is capped. Overdoing it now only causes fatigue and loss—it won't accumulate."
"Still, I want to push myself," Minato insisted, wiping his brow.
Before Tatsumi could reply, the crowd stirred. The Sannin had finally returned—at least, two of them.
Orochimaru appeared first, pale and cold-eyed as ever. Tsunade followed close behind, attempting a calm facade but clearly seething. Her clenched fists and bulging veins told the real story.
Where's the third one?
"…Where's Jiraiya-sama?" Minato asked, blinking in confusion.
"No idea," Tatsumi said smoothly, already preparing his act. "Maybe recovering at the Konoha hospital."
"…Or buried at the Hero Monument," he added with a straight face.
Minato: "…"
"Since time is tight, we'll proceed directly to the second stage," Orochimaru announced, his hoarse voice cutting through the chatter.
He clapped his hands and continued, "The rules are unchanged. You'll be in three-man squads, but the matches will remain one-on-one. Winners can continue or tag out. Injured students may approach Tsunade for medical attention."
"Matchups are as follows: first-years vs. second-years, third-years vs. fourth-years, and so on. The victorious team in each bracket will earn the right to be instructed directly by us."
Tsunade gave no objections—her thunderous mood made that clear. Orochimaru nodded to himself. Better to not provoke her any further. Jiraiya's absence is already a warning.
"I'll serve as referee," Orochimaru concluded, stepping back beside Tsunade.
The first team up? Uchiha Tatsumi's squad—himself, Mikoto, and Minato—against a team of newly enrolled first-years.
Tatsumi rolled his shoulders beneath his windbreaker, his name already rippling across the field. After all, this was the boy who dominated the first-year rankings and humiliated Nawaki, the grandson of the First Hokage. His reputation was cemented.
His popularity, too.
"Tatsumi-senpai is sooo cool!"
"No one's more reliable than Chen!"
"As long as he's here, no one else matters!"
"Chen! Step on me—I mean, win!"
Tatsumi glanced toward the fan club. …Who are these people, and why do they sound unwell?
Meanwhile, the opposing team of first-years stood firm. A confident Inuzuka, a pensive Nara, and a quiet Hyūga. Classic team composition.
"I'll go first," Tatsumi said casually.
Neither Mikoto nor Minato objected. Minato had initially wanted to go, but yielded with a nod. Mikoto just smiled supportively.
"Good luck, Tatsumi," she said.
"Time to triple-kill," Tatsumi smirked, giving Minato a thumbs-up as he stepped onto the stage.
The crowd's cheers were almost entirely in Tatsumi's favor—an overwhelming imbalance that must've stung for the rookie team.
And worse: all the first-year representatives were girls.
Come on, where's your manly ninja pride? You let the girls carry the front line? Tatsumi thought, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"Let's begin," Orochimaru's voice echoed.
Tatsumi bowed to his opponent—a girl from the Hyūga clan.
"Senpai, please go easy on me," she said nervously.
Three seconds later, it was over.
One genjutsu sign, one snapped finger—and the Hyūga girl collapsed, sound asleep.
The field went dead silent.
"…Was that rigged?"
"…Did she throw the match?"
Orochimaru, unsurprised, said nothing—just watched Tatsumi with a curious, serpentine gaze.
"The first round: Uchiha Tatsumi wins," he announced. "Second round—begin."
Next up was a girl with red fang-like markings on her cheeks—an Inuzuka.
Another one with weird face paint. Is this a clan thing or a fashion crisis? Tatsumi mused. Nohara Rin had this too… Is this the Konoha version of eyeliner?
"You're strong, but I won't go down that easily!" she barked, pulling something from her pouch.
Tatsumi nodded. "Understood."
Another illusion sign. A soft snap.
She froze… then dropped.
"…Huh."
His genjutsu used sound as the vector—Chakra laced into his voice, impossible to dodge without precautions like closing your ears or diverting your gaze.
Which, notably, only Minato had practiced.