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Okamoto had finished reading the list of expulsions and demotions.
Just as he was about to dismiss the group for their monthly break, a furious roar shattered the silence.
"You bastard! Who was it?! Who threw a glob of snot at me?!"
Everyone turned to look.
A boy was standing there, his face plastered with a massive, glistening glob of mucus. It was disgusting. He was frantically wiping his face while scanning the crowd with murderous eyes. The children around him scrambled backward, giving him a wide berth as if he were a plague carrier.
It was Asayama Masashi.
Okamoto recognized him immediately. Masashi was a bully, violent and short-tempered, often injuring his sparring partners. However, he possessed genuine skill and had the potential to become a Chūnin, so Okamoto usually turned a blind eye to his behavior.
Who on earth would provoke the camp bully?
Okamoto looked around, curious.
Then, he saw a child from the crowd point a shaking finger toward the edge of the field. Standing there, looking the picture of innocence and satisfaction, was Kanda Rokuro.
...Him?
Okamoto blinked. Why is he provoking Masashi?
Okamoto was extremely satisfied with Rokuro lately. A few days ago, Rokuro had reported his strength increase, and the subsequent test showed he possessed the physical power of a grown adult. Okamoto had already sent a priority report to his superiors.
If the higher-ups took an interest, Rokuro wouldn't even need to participate in the year-end combat trials. He could be fast-tracked directly to Konoha Headquarters.
To Okamoto, Rokuro was no longer just a trainee. He was a golden ticket—Okamoto's best chance of escaping this branch facility and returning to the village. He couldn't risk his investment getting damaged in a meaningless brawl.
He stepped forward immediately, his voice booming.
"Enough! You are all dismissed to rest. Kanda Rokuro, come with me. I have something to discuss with you!"
At his command, all eyes shifted to Rokuro.
Masashi glared at the younger boy. Seeing the smug, provocative smirk on Rokuro's face, he didn't need a detective to figure it out. The snot sniper was definitely Rokuro.
Masashi was furious.
However, he didn't strike. Okamoto was watching like a hawk. He knew Rokuro was the instructor's new favorite, and he couldn't afford to attack him while an instructor was present.
But if he couldn't use his fists, he could use his words.
"Hey, brat," Masashi hissed, his voice dripping with malice. "What's the meaning of this? You think you can challenge my authority?"
Rokuro shot Masashi a side-eye and snorted.
"I just don't like your face. When I first arrived, you came to my room and tried to intimidate me. Now that I'm stronger, I felt like teaching you a lesson."
Masashi blinked. He had long forgotten about intimidating the newcomers last month—he did that to everyone. He never expected someone to hold a grudge over something so trivial.
This kid is crazy.
Now, Masashi was genuinely pissed off. If Okamoto hadn't been standing there, he would have beaten Rokuro into a pulp.
Okamoto, listening from the side, finally understood. So it's a grudge.
Rokuro really holds onto things, he thought with a sigh. Provoking a senior over a glare from a month ago?
"Alright, that's enough," Okamoto interrupted, waving Rokuro over. "Get over here. Masashi is in the Senior Class. If you want to challenge him, wait until you're promoted."
Rokuro's eyes lit up.
"Lord Okamoto! Then promote me to the Senior Class right now! I want to fight him!"
Okamoto scowled.
"Don't be ridiculous. No one under the age of five is allowed in the Senior Class. If you want to move up, wait until your fifth birthday."
Rokuro shrugged, looking at Masashi with mock pity.
"Lucky you. Just wait until I turn five. I'll mop the floor with you then."
Masashi gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead.
"You little brat... I'll be waiting!"
"Don't worry," Rokuro called back as he walked away, not even turning his head. "I'll come find you."
Masashi stormed off, fuming. The crowd of spectators dispersed, sensing the show was over.
As soon as Rokuro reached Okamoto, the instructor rapped him hard on the head.
Bonk!
"You get a little strength and suddenly you're floating, huh?" Okamoto scolded, though there was no real heat in his voice. "Asayama Masashi has Genin-level Taijutsu and plenty of combat experience. You think raw strength is enough? You were asking for a beating."
Rokuro rubbed his head, putting on a goofy, innocent smile.
"Well, he looked down on me first. Lord Okamoto, why don't you teach me some practical combat Taijutsu? That way I can beat him sooner!"
Okamoto looked at the boy, considering.
He has a point. His strength is already too high for basic calisthenics.
"Fine," Okamoto decided. "Raw strength isn't enough. Tomorrow, follow me to a different location. There's a specialized training ground for weapons and combat. You can train there."
Rokuro's eyes sparkled.
He had been waiting for this. New training meant new skills. And new skills meant the System might unlock a new progression path. If he could unlock weapon mastery, he could develop into a balanced all-rounder.
"Lord Okamoto, can we go now? Please?" Rokuro tugged at the instructor's vest.
Okamoto sighed, defeated by the boy's enthusiasm. Well, a workaholic genius is a good thing.
"Since you're not afraid of hard work... follow me."
Rokuro grinned and trotted after him.
They walked through the main training field and trekked about a kilometer into the surrounding forest. There, they found a clearing filled with wooden posts and targets, clearly designed for projectile training.
Okamoto stopped at a marked line and pointed to the targets ten meters away.
"Ninja primarily use two types of throwing weapons: Shuriken and Kunai. You will practice your throwing techniques here. Once your accuracy is acceptable, I will teach you other forms of Taijutsu."
Throwing Shuriken?
Will this trigger a new skill entry?
While Rokuro was pondering, Okamoto pulled a Kunai from his pouch and handed it to him.
"Give it a try. Consider this Kunai a gift. I hope you master it soon."
Rokuro snapped back to reality and grasped the cold iron handle.
He looked at the wooden target. He narrowed his eyes, took aim, and threw it with all his might.
Whoosh!
...Thud.
The Kunai sailed past the target and buried itself in the dirt a few feet away. A complete miss.
It was his first time ever throwing a weapon; naturally, he missed.
But Rokuro wasn't discouraged. He ran over, pulled the Kunai out of the dirt, and ran back to the line to throw it again.
Throw. Retrieve. Throw. Retrieve.
As he repeated the motion, his eyes were glued to the System Interface, waiting for that notification.