Shinji withdrew his gaze.
Over the years, in addition to training, he had also been secretly observing Mei Terumī's situation.
From what he had gathered over the years, the Mei Terumī of this parallel dimension was very different from the dazzling Mei Terumī who later became the Fifth Mizukage in the Main World.
In the original work, when she first appeared, she was already a charming Mizukage, with the composure and confidence of a mature woman in every gesture.
She dared to complain in front of everyone, "Why aren't I married?" and dared to face powerful enemies head-on on the battlefield.
But at this moment, she was not that Mei Terumī.
She didn't take the initiative to get close to anyone, nor did she let anyone get close to her.
She didn't speak, didn't look up, didn't fight or grab, and didn't show her sharpness.
Like a drop of water blending into the gray background of the Hidden Mist Village, she was almost forgotten.
As the orphan of the Lava Release family and a possessor of a Kekkei Genkai, in the era of the Village Hidden in the Bloody Mist, she herself was an existence that "should not exist."
Among the gazes directed at her, how many were fearful, how many were hostile, and how many were indifferent, waiting to see when she would be purged.
"Although being ostracized and isolated by others reduces the difficulty of my luring her in, being too ostracized and isolated actually increases it instead."
Shinji felt a bit of a sigh in his heart.
He didn't know if this little girl had experienced too many accidents, but now she wrapped herself in silence all day long, so tightly that not a single crack let any light leak out.
She didn't give Shinji even a small chance for redemption.
Sometimes he even doubted whether the Mei Terumī of this parallel dimension could become the Mizukage in the future.
After all, the system said that although the characters in the parallel dimension and the Main World were generally the same, there were still subtle differences.
...
The instructor was still reading the list, name by name, comment by comment.
Occasionally, low cheers rang out from the queue, and occasionally someone hung their head in discouragement.
A bit of sunlight peeked out from behind the gray clouds, falling on everyone in the training ground.
Shinji didn't look over there again.
It was only when the instructor finished reading the last name and announced the dismissal.
He then raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping across the edge of the crowd and falling on the figure who was walking away quickly with her head down.
Mei Terumī walked very fast, passing through the edge of the crowd as usual, without disturbing anyone.
Shinji watched that back disappear at the end of the corridor, then withdrew his gaze and turned in another direction.
Tomorrow's practical combat class placement would be his best opportunity.
...
The next day was the final practical combat class placement for graduation.
The Hidden Mist Village was like this, deciding rankings based on practical combat.
Everyone received sharpened weapons.
The blades of the Kunai glinted coldly, and the edges of the shuriken were ground sharp; held in the palm, they were heavy, carrying the unique chill of ironware.
Shinji chose a ninja sword, which was sharpened very well.
The rules of the Village Hidden in the Bloody Mist were simple to the point of cruelty:
Lots were drawn to determine the combat format, one-on-one or two-on-two.
It only ended when one side admitted defeat or was killed.
Today, he was very likely to kill someone.
Or rather, in the Village Hidden in the Bloody Mist, many students were going to kill someone today.
Time reached 8:30 AM.
The sky of the Hidden Mist was still gray, like it was covered with a layer of old gauze that could never be washed off.
The clouds hung very low, and the light filtering down was thin and pale, falling on the training ground and dyeing everything in various shades of gray.
Combat areas were marked out on the training ground, with white lines crookedly embedded in the soil, cutting the field into countless small squares.
The spectating students gathered in twos and threes; some leaned against trees, some squatted at the edge of the field, discussing today's combat groupings in low voices.
Shinji stood next to his combat area, waiting for his opponent to appear.
The opponent didn't make him wait long.
A boy from the same grade walked over, glanced at him, and then directly raised his hand to signal surrender to the referee.
"I'm not fighting," the boy said, his voice not loud, but enough for several people around to hear.
The referee frowned and looked at Shinji, seeking his opinion.
"Fine."
Shinji's face showed no expression; he just put away the ninja sword he had intended to draw blood with and turned to walk toward the sideline.
The instructor looked down and made a mark on the recording board, saying nothing more.
It was unexpected, yet reasonable.
Practical combat drills in the third year, school-wide selection in the fourth year, and school-wide competition in the fifth year.
Many opponents chose to surrender in front of Shinji.
It wasn't cowardice; it was that those who had fought him spread the word, making those who came after clearly understand: you can't win against him.
It felt somewhat like the future Third War, where one could abandon a mission if they encountered Minato Namikaze.
Shinji walked to the tree at the edge of the field, leaned against a thick trunk, and his gaze fell seemingly aimlessly on the training ground.
Just then, the whispers of several students came from nearby.
"Did you hear? Mei Terumī was assigned to a two-on-one. Her opponents are two boys."
"Really? Isn't that a guaranteed loss?"
"The one who did the grouping said there weren't enough people, so it could only be arranged this way. However..."
The speaker lowered their voice. Shinji's peripheral vision swept over and saw the person's lips curl slightly with a hint of schadenfreude:
"For anyone else, they would definitely arrange a two-on-two, but for her, it became a two-on-one."
"Who told her to be from that kind of family."
"Shh, keep it down."
Shinji's gaze didn't turn toward them, still falling on the distant training ground as if he hadn't heard anything.
But the conversation of those few people fell into his ears without missing a word.
"The opportunity has finally come."
His gaze slowly moved, passing through the crowd and falling on the other side of the combat area.
At this moment, Mei Terumī stood at the edge of the field, head down, tightening the bracers on her hands.
Those bracers were old, the edges already frayed, and she wound them around her wrists loop by loop, wrapping them neatly.
Her movements were very slow and careful, as if she were doing something that required full concentration.
No one around her approached. Those discussions drifted over faintly; she must have heard them.
But there was no expression on her face—no anger, no grievance, not even any reaction.
It was as if those words had nothing to do with her, as if she were just a stone, a blade of grass, an emotionless object.
"Why do I suddenly feel a bit reluctant?"
Shinji looked at the figure curled into a ball.
There was some pity in his heart.
Mei Terumī's behavior wasn't indifference; it was protection.
It was the only way of survival she had learned after being isolated, discussed, and treated as an outlier since childhood.
By not showing any emotion, no one could grasp her weaknesses; by not getting close to anyone, she wouldn't be hurt.
She wrapped herself up tightly, not letting a single crack leak light, and not letting anyone see what was hidden in that heart.
But at this moment, she was still standing there.
Standing at the edge of the combat area, waiting for her opponents.
Two boys. Two-on-one.
Shinji withdrew his gaze, extinguished the emotional interference in his mind, leaned back against the tree trunk, and closed his eyes to listen to the movement in secret.
The instructor called Mei Terumī's name.
"Mei Terumī."
Mei Terumī walked out from the edge of the crowd.
She walked very slowly, but her steps were steady.
With her head down and eyes cast down, as usual, she didn't let herself become the focus of anyone.
But as that figure passed through the edge of the crowd, a small open space automatically formed around her, because no one was willing to be near her.