Jiraiya pushed through the bookstore door without hesitation.

  As one of the Legendary Sannin, he had a reputation to maintain—which meant he could afford to be curious about anything that caught his interest. The shop was packed, customers browsing shelves with genuine enthusiasm rather than idle browsing. His eyebrow rose. Not just hype, then.

  He grabbed a copy of "Taimanin" and found a quiet corner to read.

  The first few pages changed everything.

  Jiraiya's expression shifted from casual interest to something approaching religious revelation. The door to a new world had opened. Thirty years of life suddenly felt inadequate. The standard ninja romance novels floating around the village were fine—based on reality, predictable, serviceable. But this? This was something else entirely.

  Sci-fi setting. Near-future world. A heroine who was, frankly, spectacular. Enemies that defied conventional ninja taxonomy. The whole thing was a masterclass in creative worldbuilding.

  "I am genuinely impressed," he muttered, turning pages with increasing urgency.

  The feeling reminded him of his first time at an izakaya, discovering the finer things in life. Excitement. Anticipation. That electric thrill of discovery.

  Then he reached the end.

  "Why does it stop here?!" Jiraiya nearly shouted, earning looks from nearby customers. He took a breath, composing himself. "Damn it."

  He'd been stuck on his next novel for weeks. Inspiration had dried up. But now, holding this book, ideas were already crystallizing in his mind. The narrative possibilities. The character dynamics. The potential.

  Jiraiya paid for the book and left immediately. He had writing to do.

  ---

  Konoha Hospital

  Hanekawa's wooden sword froze mid-swing.

  A notification bloomed in his vision:

  [E-Rank Talent Entry: Hero]

  [Trigger Condition: "Taimanin" published]

  [Effect: Memory enhancement increased by 10%]

  [Note: Publishing additional novels can unlock and promote to D-Rank Novelist]

  Seriously? Hanekawa blinked. The system rewards me for writing smut?

  He supposed it made sense. Everyone wanted a hero—someone who'd swoop in, save the day, and vanish mysteriously. He'd just provided that fantasy in literary form.

  The enhancement settled into his mind like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Knowledge he'd memorized became crystalline. Concepts that had been fuzzy sharpened into focus.

  Well, he thought with satisfaction, I'm definitely acing the theory exam now.

  "Done practicing already?"

  Tsunade's voice came through the window before she did, stepping inside with characteristic confidence. "Or are you planning another gambling run? You need a break."

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Hanekawa turned to face her. "Actually—"

  "You're going," Tsunade interrupted, clenching her fists. "Don't argue, brat."

  "I go," he said sincerely.

  "Smart kid." She stepped closer, heels clicking against the floor. "Let's head out now."

  "Wait. I have a condition."

  Tsunade's eyes narrowed. "What?"

  "Can you teach me to use a scalpel?"

  "A scalpel?" She crossed her arms. "You're too young to be a surgical medical ninja. That's jonin-level work at minimum."

  There were two types of medical scalpels—the standard crafted blade and the chakra scalpel, an A-Rank jutsu that required years of training. Hanekawa had no interest in either for surgery.

  "Not for operations," he clarified. "I want to familiarize myself with the basics now. Get ahead of the curve."

  Tsunade considered this for a moment. "Fair enough. I'll teach you."

  "Thank you, Lady Tsunade."

  ---

  That evening, they returned from the casino with full wallets and fuller stomachs.

  "The fundamentals aren't complicated," Tsunade said, producing a scalpel in her apartment. "What matters is precision. Surgery requires millimeter accuracy—no room for error."

  Hanekawa watched as she demonstrated, her movements economical and exact. Their practice subject was a live chicken purchased from a street vendor, which eventually became dinner.

  Tsunade's grilling technique was exceptional. Hanekawa gave her five stars mentally.

  ---

  Monday, March

  The calendar had flipped. March meant the end of first grade—Hanekawa's transition to second year was imminent. What a milestone, he thought dryly.

  His mind drifted to Kakashi Hatake. According to the original timeline, Kakashi had completed one year at the academy before graduating early and joining a genin team. With Hanekawa's current abilities, early graduation was feasible.

  But feasible wasn't wise.

  Kakashi had graduated years ahead of his peers, yet somehow still ended up on a team with Obito and Rin. And somehow, despite his genius, both his teammates had died. Not one survived.

  No thanks. Hanekawa had no intention of graduating until he was genuinely unstoppable. The Ninja Academy was safer than the field. He'd stay put.

  "Hanekawa?"

  He looked up from his desk. Rin Nohara stood there, notebook clutched to her chest, looking slightly embarrassed.

  "I can't figure out this problem," she admitted. "Could you help?"

  This had become routine since he'd explained the fundamentals to her weeks ago. Whenever she hit a wall, she came to him. It was flattering, actually.

  "Let me see."

  He studied the problem, then walked her through the solution step by step. She listened intently, nodding along.

  ---

  In the hallway outside the classroom, Obito Uchiha practically bounced with excitement.

  He'd arrived early—genuinely early, not his usual fashionable lateness. The old woman he always helped across the street had other plans today, freeing up his schedule. Perfect timing.

  Rin will be so surprised to see me, he thought, grinning.

  He stepped into the classroom and froze.

  Hanekawa and Rin were talking and laughing together.

  The smile died on Obito's face.

  "Rin, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

  Rin turned, startled. "Obito! When did you get here?"

  "Hanekawa was explaining a problem to me," she said, then added with genuine enthusiasm, "He's really good at teaching!"

  Obito's frown deepened. He distinctly remembered Hanekawa bombing the last theory exam—scoring far below Rin's perfect marks. How was he suddenly qualified to tutor anyone?

  "I can teach you too," Obito said quickly, the words tumbling out.

  "You?" Rin tilted her head, confused.

  Which was fair. Obito consistently ranked dead last in every theoretical assessment. Sure, he could perform Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique—his practical skills were solid—but academics weren't his strength.

  Hanekawa casually handed over the notebook. "Take a look."

  Obito glanced at it and immediately felt sweat bead on his forehead. He recognized every individual character, but strung together like this? This is still Japanese?

  He handed it back without comment, his earlier confidence evaporating.