The sun hung low over Konoha as Kenta strode toward the Shinobi Academy's gates, his posture radiating confidence that bordered on obnoxious.
His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his tailored tunic—a subtle flex of his noble upbringing—and his sharp eyes scanned the area like a predator sizing up its territory.
Today was the day: his official start as a third-year student.
'Let's see how these kids playing ninjas handle a real fighter,' he thought, a smirk tugging at his lips.
It might sound childish coming from a grown man but Kenta or Raido Kuroshi never grew up in his last life. He did not care of things like being childish or being nice. He respected neither kids nor elderly. He does things according to him and this would continue even in this life.
Kenta followed the motto to do things the way he likes or what's the point of living the life if you can't do things your way.
As he reached the weathered wooden gates of the academy, a figure slouched against the frame caught his eye. The man was tall, lanky, with the telltale dark ponytail and bored expression of a Nara.
His green jōnin vest hung loosely over his shoulders, and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else—preferably unconscious. He straightened slightly as Kenta approached, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.
"You Kenta Madoka?" the man drawled, his voice dripping with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just been woken from a nap.
Kenta tilted his head, sizing him up. "Yeah, that's me—the one and only. You my babysitter or something?"
The Nara snorted, scratching his cheek. "Name's Shikazo Nara. Special jōnin. I'm your homeroom teacher, though I'd rather be sleeping under a tree than dealing with you little gremlins. Too troublesome." He sighed dramatically, as if the mere act of standing there was draining his life force. "Anyway, welcome to the academy. Here's what you're in for: a bunch of noisy brats, endless drills, and me trying not to care too much. Expect taijutsu spars, chakra exercises, and some brain-dead theory lessons. If you're smart, you'll keep your head down and graduate quick. If you're a pain, I'll just nap through your nonsense. Questions?"
Kenta blinked, then grinned wide enough to show teeth. 'This guy's a riot. Lazy as hell, but I can work with that.'
"Only one question, Sensei—do I get bonus points for making you actually stay awake during class?"
Shikazo's eyes narrowed, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Kid, if you can keep me awake, I'll give you my jōnin vest. Good luck, though—napping's my kekkei genkai." He waved a lazy hand toward the academy building.
"C'mon, let's get this over with. Sooner we start, sooner I can ditch you all."
Kenta laughed, falling into step beside him.
'I like this guy already. He's gonna hate me so much.' The thought of tormenting a lazy Nara with his antics was almost as exciting as the spars he'd dominate. Almost.
They pushed through the doors into a bustling hallway, then up a creaky staircase to the third-year classroom.
The moment Shikazo slid the door open, the noices inside screeched to a halt. Shouts, laughter, and the occasional thunk of a thrown object died midair as every head swiveled toward the teacher. Then their eyes landed on Kenta, and the silence shattered into a wave of murmurs.
"Who's that kid? He is so tiny and look at his muscles!"
"Look at that smirk—he's so full of himself!"
"Is that silk? What a spoiled brat!"
"He's kinda cute, though—like a cocky puppy."
Kenta's grin faltered, replaced by a twitch of irritation. He whipped around, hands on his hips, and barked, "Oi! I'm not tiny, I'm fun-sized! And yeah, I'm cute—deal with it, you jealous losers! This silk? It's called style, something you peasants wouldn't understand!" He puffed out his chest, glaring at the sea of faces like a king scolding his court.
A few kids snickered, others rolled their eyes, but the murmurs grew louder—half-amused, half-annoyed.
Shikazo shuffled to the front, ignoring the commotion entirely, and plopped into the teacher's chair with a groan. "Alright, shut it, you noisy gremlins," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "This is Kenta Madoka. He's joining us starting today. Yeah, he's the Daimyō's grandson, so don't be too stupid about picking fights with him. Kenta, go introduce yourself or whatever. Make it quick—I need a nap."
Kenta strutted to the front, his every step oozing arrogance. He turned to face the class, clapped his hands once for dramatic effect (no Boogie Woogie this time, sadly), and launched into his speech. "Listen up, future nobodies! I'm Kenta Madoka, the greatest fighter you'll ever meet. I've got skills you can only dream of and a destiny to be the most legendary shinobi this village has ever seen. You're all lucky to breathe the same air as me, so don't waste my time with your whining. Bow down or step up—I'll crush you either way!"
The classroom erupted into a mix of gasps, groans, and angry mutters. "Who does this guy think he is?" "He's begging for a beatdown!" "Daimyō's grandson or not, he's a jerk!" Most stayed quiet, though—Kenta's lineage wasn't a secret. Clan kids had already been briefed by their parents:
'Make nice with the noble brat, don't stir trouble.' But the tension simmered, and Kenta reveled in it, his grin widening as he soaked up the attention.
Then, a voice cut through the noise like a kunai through paper. "Oi, Pretty Boy! You talk big for someone who looks like he'd trip over his own ego!"
Kenta's head snapped toward the source—a girl with wild red hair tied back in a messy ponytail, her arms crossed and her green eyes blazing with defiance. She stood up, hands slamming on her desk, and pointed at him. "I'm Kushina Uzumaki, and I don't care who your grandpa is—you're not crushing anybody 'til you get through me, ya arrogant punk! I challenge you to a duel, right here, right now!"
The class held its breath, a few kids whispering, "Oh, she's nuts!" and "This is gonna be good!" Kenta's grin turned feral, his blood singing at the challenge. He clapped his hands together, ready to Boogie Woogie her into next week. "Oh, I accept, Red! Let's see if your fists are as loud as your mouth!"
Before either could move, Shikazo's voice drawled out, heavy with exasperation. "Nope. No duels. Sit down, both of you. Too troublesome." He didn't even look up from where he'd propped his head on his hand, half-dozing already.
Kenta whirled on him, incredulous. "What?! Sensei, she challenged me! I can't just let that slide—I've got a reputation to uphold!"
Kushina wasn't backing down either. "Yeah, let us fight! I'll wipe that smug look off his face in ten seconds flat, dattebane!"
Shikazo groaned louder, finally lifting his head. "Kushina, one more word and I'm telling Lady Mito you've been picking fights again. You want the Uzumaki matriarch breathing down your neck?" Kushina's face paled, her bravado faltering as she muttered, "Tch, fine," and plopped back into her seat, glaring daggers at Kenta.
Then Shikazo leaned over to Kenta, lowering his voice to a whisper. "And you, kid—I'm authorized by the Daimyō himself to stop you from having desserts if you cause trouble. One wrong move, and no more desserts. Got it?"
Kenta's eyes widened to comical proportions, his jaw dropping. 'No desserts?!' The words hit him like a punch to the gut, worse than any taijutsu blow. His mind raced, replaying every family dinner, every smug bite of stolen dango from Ikkyu.
'Mom would never do this—she's too soft on me! This has Grandpa's sneaky fingerprints all over it! That old geezer—he's sabotaging me from the capital without her knowing!'
The betrayal stung, sharp and bitter. He pictured the Daimyō's stern face, probably sipping tea while plotting this culinary treason.
'Oh, I'll get revenge, you crafty fossil. You think you can take my desserts and win? Watch me turn this academy upside down just to spite you!'
He snapped out of his spiral, forcing a grin to mask his panic. "Fine, Sensei," he said through gritted teeth, shooting Kushina a look that promised 'this isn't over'.
"I'll play nice… for now."
Kushina smirked back, mouthing, "Coward," just loud enough for him to hear. Kenta's eye twitched, but he sat down, plotting silently.
'Red's got guts—I'll give her that. She's first on my duel list once I figure out how to dodge this dessert ban.'
Kenta did not care about the fact that she was the protagonist's mother or not. Here he was the protagonist.
Shikazo slumped back in his chair, muttering, "Good. Now everyone shut up so I can nap."
---Author Notes-------
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