Chapter 211: My Rinnegan is Already Thirsting for Action
Days slipped by in a comfortable, mundane rhythm. During daylight hours, Stelle dutifully attended her academy classes. Her primary occupation consisted of running interference for a perpetually tardy Obito, smoothly covering for him as he scrambled through the classroom window. She spent hours quietly amused, watching him wage a battle of wits against the instructor and goof off with Shiranui Genma.
Lunchtimes were reserved for Kakashi. She would casually dismantle complex theoretical problems for the silver-haired prodigy between bites of a carefully prepared bento. As dusk settled, she retreated to the quiet embrace of the forest, spending her evenings fishing or foraging for wild vegetables and small game. It was a remarkably fulfilling existence.
Even the usually stuck-up Ebisu had made an appearance during this period. The kid had awkwardly approached her to apologize, shoving a box of high-end fountain pens into her hands as a peace offering. Before she could even utter a word of thanks, he had sprinted away, refusing to look back no matter how loudly she called his name.
Half a month vanished in the blink of an eye. When the first of the month rolled around, signaling the release of the orphan subsidy, the system proved far more desperate than Stelle herself. Dawn had barely broken, the sky still a bruised purple, when a cacophony of digital alarms began blaring inside her skull, relentlessly urging her to drag herself out of bed and claim the funds.
'I am the one choking down dry soldier pills, not you,'Stelle grumbled internally, pressing a pillow over her ears.'Why do you sound like you are the one dying of starvation?'
[You have a valid point, Host. I simply do not plan on letting this financial injustice continue.]
Yielding to the digital nagging, Stelle hauled herself out of bed and handled the morning chill toward the village administration office. After sliding her stamped documents across the wooden counter, the clerk handed over her monthly allowance. A meager three thousand ryo.
The previous month's payout had included an extra thirty thousand specifically earmarked for medical expenses. That sum had been intended for Kobayashi Isamu to treat the severe injuries on her face. Naturally, the drunken fool had ignored the medical mandate entirely, blinding himself with greed and assuming the village would hand out thirty-three thousand ryo every single month.
Three thousand ryo was a pathetic sum. It was useless at the gambling tables, and at the local taverns, it could only buy the most watered-down, gut-rotting swill. Yet, for a frugal orphan willing to forage, it was just enough to scrape by.
Upon arriving at the academy, Stelle noted the glaringly empty seat beside her. Obito was missing in action once again. The Uchiha boy had become inexplicably popular with Konoha's elderly population as of late. The moment he stepped out of his clan compound, he was inevitably ambushed by seniors needing help crossing busy intersections, carrying heavy groceries, or handling their way to the hospital. As a direct consequence, his tardiness had evolved from an occasional slip-up to a daily guarantee.
Fortunately, seating arrangements played to their advantage. Kakashi had claimed a desk right next to the window, and Stelle had strategically positioned herself beside him. This created the perfect blind spot for Obito's unconventional entrances.
Their homeroom instructor, Senju Naoto, possessed the patience of a saint. As long as Obito was only a few minutes behind schedule, the man would conveniently turn his back to the chalkboard, completely ignoring the scuffling sounds of an Uchiha scaling the exterior wall. Only when the tardiness stretched into the world of absurdity did Naoto force the boy to stand in the hallway as punishment.
Stelle quietly unlatched the window pane, sliding her wooden stool forward an inch to widen the landing zone. A moment later, a panting Obito tumbled through the opening, miraculously sticking the landing right onto his chair.
Kakashi rested his chin on his hand, his visible eye narrowing with thinly veiled disdain. "Already the dead-last of the class, yet he insists on being late every single day. He is completely hopeless."
"Give him a break," Stelle murmured, defending her panting teammate. "Obito just has a soft spot for helping people. He cannot simply walk away and leave a good deed half-finished."
Kakashi let out a long, exaggerated sigh, rolling his eye toward the ceiling. The concept simply did not compute in his pragmatic brain. Why could the idiot not just manage his morning schedule properly instead of constantly treating the academy bell as a mere suggestion?
The morning lecture shifted toward the practical application of chakra refinement. For clan heirs and legacy students, this was old news; they merely had to perform a basic demonstration to pass. The civilian-born students struggled initially, but through sheer stubbornness, most managed to grasp the faint, warm thrum of internal energy.
Stelle, however, played her part to perfection. She blended smoothly into the background with the rest of the struggling orphanage children, intentionally suppressing her vast reserves. She stared blankly at her hands, pretending to feel absolutely nothing, flawlessly cementing her carefully crafted persona: a brilliant theoretical genius cursed with disastrously inept practical skills.
When the lunch bell finally rang, Kakashi brought the topic up again, his tone laced with genuine bewilderment. "You can effortlessly dismantle high-level tactical problems, yet you are utterly pathetic when it comes to a simple chakra demonstration. How does that even happen?"
Stelle chewed on a piece of pickled radish, pretending to ponder the question. She raised a chopstick, pointing toward a pair of Anbu messenger hawks circling the distant Hokage Monument. "Look at it this way," she began, her tone perfectly casual. "I have fantasized about sprouting wings and flying through the clouds a thousand times in my head. I understand the aerodynamics of it perfectly. But I still cannot fly. My brain knows exactly what to do, but my physical body simply refuses to cooperate. There is absolutely nothing I can do about it."
Kakashi frowned, his brow furrowing beneath his dark headband. On the surface, her logic held water, but a nagging instinct told him something was fundamentally off. The tactical scenarios his father, Hatake Sakumo, had handed him that morning were brutally complex. They were advanced Anbu-level logistics, the kind of puzzles that would make a veteran Jonin sweat. A civilian academy student like Stelle absolutely should not be able to solve them. In fact, if she actually provided the correct answers, it would raise terrifying questions about her true nature.
Yet, here she was, casually breaking down the supply line bottlenecks and flanking maneuvers, eventually waving her hand and telling him to double-check the final calculations with his family.
Kakashi offered a dismissive shrug. "My dad is just a ramen cook. How would he know the answers to military logistics? He told me these scrolls were old exam papers left behind by a senior member of our clan, the White Fang of Konoha, back when he was in the academy. My dad just dug them out of the attic for me to practice on."
Stelle nearly inhaled a mouthful of rice, coughing violently into her sleeve.
'Do you even hear the words coming out of your own mouth?'she screamed internally, staring at the silver-haired boy as if he had grown a second head.'Your dad IS the White Fang of Konoha! Has that man seriously hidden his identity so flawlessly that his own genius son has not noticed a single thing in all these years?'
Beneath her coughing fit, her mind raced, piecing together the fragmented timeline. What on earth had happened during her absence? Why would a legendary shinobi like Hatake Sakumo step down from his position as Anbu Commander, bury the mantle of the White Fang, and vanish into the civilian sector to run a damn ramen stand? If it were a simple matter of retirement, there would be zero need for such an elaborate, secretive charade.
A dark suspicion began to take root in her chest. Could it be that following her supposed death on the battlefield, a massive power vacuum had destabilized Konoha's political landscape? Without her overwhelming presence to keep them in check, had Sarutobi Hiruzen and Shimura Danzo immediately reverted to their old, manipulative tricks?
Had those two old fools pushed the boundaries so far that they completely shattered Sakumo's faith in the village, driving the man to abandon the shinobi life entirely and flip the proverbial table on the administration?
No, that theory had a glaring hole. Uchiha Kagami was still alive. In this current political climate, the authority of the Uchiha Clan Head carried far more weight than a mere Hokage Advisor. Kagami would never have allowed Danzo to run rampant over a loyal hero like Sakumo. So where exactly was Kagami in all of this mess?
Stelle rubbed her temples, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. The sheer volume of unanswered questions was giving her a migraine. 'Forget it,'she decided, washing down her lunch with a sip of water.'There will be plenty of time to unravel this political knot later.'
When the final bell rang that afternoon, Obito practically vibrated with excitement. He proudly announced that he had mastered a new recipe—a rich beef and tomato stew. He insisted on sprinting back to the Uchiha compound to grab the fresh ingredients, promising to cook a massive dinner for both her and Kakashi. His strict instructions were for her to wait right at the street corner until he returned.
Remembering the series of bizarrely flavored, borderline-toxic meals she had subjected herself to recently, Stelle found her feet firmly planted to the pavement. She had absolutely no desire to cook tonight. 'Did I rely entirely too much on takeout delivery in my past life?'she mused, staring blankly at the passing clouds.'Is my culinary talent in this life permanently crippled by my own inherent laziness?'
Resigning herself to her fate, she stood obediently by the designated streetlamp, waiting for her perpetually slow teammate. The Uchiha compound was only a few blocks away from the academy gates. Even factoring in Obito's terrible sense of direction, his raw sprinting speed meant he should be back within minutes.
As she leaned against the wooden post, a sudden, venomous prickle washed over the back of her neck. The sensation of being watched by a predator. Stelle slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes locking onto a figure stumbling down the far end of the street.
It was Kobayashi Isamu.
The man was clearly intoxicated, his heavy boots dragging against the dirt in a sloppy, erratic stagger. Having visited the administration office only to discover the monthly subsidy had already been claimed, he was trapped in a violently foul mood. The moment his bloodshot eyes locked onto Stelle's small frame, a wave of raw, unadulterated malice rolled off him. He bared his teeth, looking entirely prepared to skin the young girl alive right there in the middle of the street.
Stelle swept her gaze across the bustling thoroughfare. Too many witnesses. Without a second of hesitation, she pivoted on her heel and darted into the suffocating shadows of a narrow, abandoned alleyway.
The system, having finally laid digital eyes on Kobayashi Isamu after weeks of absence, practically short-circuited with glee.
[Host! That pathetic worm actually dares to hunt you down for the subsidy money! Quick, slap him! Slap him across the face as hard as you can!]
[Wuwu, Host, you are so good to me by securing those funds! I promise, once I reach maximum level, I will absolutely unlock every single administrative permission for you! I will make you the happiest Host in the entire multiverse!]
Stelle let out a quiet breath. Even after its recent software upgrade, the system remained little more than a hyperactive, cheerleading mascot. She had run multiple behavioral tests on the entity over the past week, ultimately concluding that its silly, overly enthusiastic nature was entirely genuine. Threat assessment: zero. It was completely harmless.
She maintained her panicked sprint just long enough to draw the drunken man deep into the maze of the village's backstreets, far away from prying civilian eyes. Once the ambient noise of the main road faded into a muffled hum, Stelle abruptly stopped. The terrified, fleeing orphan vanished in an instant.
As she slowly turned to face her pursuer, the temperature in the alley plummeted. A cold, majestic purple glow began to bleed into the iris of her right eye, the concentric ripples of a god-tier visual prowess spinning to life in the shadows.
"You little rat!" Kobayashi Isamu roared, his voice echoing off the brick walls. "You actually dare to run from me? Stop right there!"
Channeling a burst of sloppy chakra to his feet, the man launched himself onto a low-hanging roof, using the vantage point to close the distance in a matter of seconds. He dropped down into the alleyway, blocking her only exit. His eyes were clouded with cheap alcohol and violent rage as he lunged forward, his thick, calloused hands reaching out to violently seize her by the collar.
How dare this worthless street rat bypass his authority and steal his drinking money? He was going to break her bones and teach her a permanent lesson in obedience.
"Where is the subsidy money?" he bellowed, his breath reeking of stale sake as his shadow loomed over her small frame. "Hand it over to me right now!"
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