---Ryouma's POV---
I watched as Obito staggered toward us, his steps unsteady as if he had lost his balance. His body swayed, still trembling from the force of a powerful kick delivered by Shiori. The muscles in his arms, which he had used to block the attack, were still shaking.
"Don't be discouraged, Obito. Losing is pretty normal for you," I offered so words of comfort. That sounded much better in my head, but hearing it... it could be interpreted as so kind of insult.
Obito grimaced, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. "Easy for you to say. You've never lost to anyone."
I shrugged. "That's not the point. The point is consistency. You're consistent."
That sounded bad as well. I was just bad at comforting...
"I'll get you back for that one, just wait," Obito replied, trying to smile through the pain.
"Don't worry, even if you lose, you can still graduate. The assessnt is just about evaluating our performance," Kakashi said, patting Obito on the shoulder.
Obito blinked in surprise. "That almost sounded like encouragent, Bakashi."
"It's just a statent of fact," Kakashi responded, imdiately defensive.
That was true.
Kosuke wasn't just there to call out nas. After each match, he carefully recorded everyone's performance.
Seconds ticked by.
Ninja battles were usually quick, and before long, the assessnt had ended.
Kosuke stood before us, his expression solemn. "Konoha Academy's 31st class, I am pleased to announce that all of you have successfully graduated."
He stepped forward. "This headband isn't just a symbol—it's a responsibility. From this mont forward, you represent Konoha's Will of Fire."
As expected, the final results were no surprise—everyone successfully graduated.
The training ground erupted in cheers. Obito leapt into the air, pain forgotten. Anko threw kunai in celebration.
I remained still.
Looking at the smiles on my classmates' faces, I didn't know what to say.
They were celebrating their first step toward the slaughter.
Graduation ant heading to the battlefield.
A month from now, so of these smiling faces would disappear forever. War didn't care about potential or dreams. It consud indiscriminately, leaving only mories—if even that.
Rin approached, noticing my expression. "You're thinking about what cos next, aren't you?"
"How did you know?" I asked, surprised by her perception.
She offered a gentle smile. "Your eyes get distant when you're worried. Like you're seeing sothing the rest of us can't."
If only you knew how true that is.
I wasn't particularly worried about my own safety. On my birthday last year, I had participated in the five-year cycle of a my pity.
According to the system, a successful wish would grant a skill most suited to . The first skill I received was the Rikugan. Whether or not it was the perfect match, I had to admit that using it felt incredibly natural.
The Rikugan had transford my perception of the world. Distance beca aningless, walls transparent, secrets exposed.
Now, with the reality of war approaching, my next wish should ideally compensate for my defensive weaknesses, if successful.
Spoiler, it was!
At first, I thought that the best skill for would be the Limitless Technique, which complented the Rikugan perfectly—providing both defense and offense. However, when the wish was granted, I got sothing unexpected instead.
Full Counter.
This was the skill of liodas from The Seven Deadly Sins.
But I had to admit—this new skill perfectly addressed my biggest concern: defense.
Unlike Limitless, Full Counter not only allowed to protect myself easily in battle but also ensured the safety of my teammates.
On reflection, it was great for my needs. Limitless required constant chakra expenditure, while Full Counter activated only when needed. In a war of attrition, efficiency matters more than raw power.
And in terms of defensive capability, it was even superior to Limitless. While its offensive potential might be less stable, its upper limit was still quite high.
In a war where every teammate mattered, this was invaluable.
I speculated that the system's wishes weren't just based on my weaknesses but also took into account my deepest desires.
Oh, and about the consolation prize... they were mostly as useless as I'd expected. The GTA 6 disc without a console was just the beginning of the absurdity. There was also a smartphone with no charger and a battery life of exactly three minutes. What was I supposed to do with that? Take the world's shortest selfie before a boss fight?
Then there was the "infinity gauntlet" which turned out to be just a cheap plastic toy with light-up gems that flickered pathetically when you pressed a button. The inscription on the back read "Made in Earth-199999's China." I couldn't even snap my fingers properly while wearing it.
Of the nine consolation items, only two had any actual value. One was a senzu bean that had apparently been stolen by Gawd from an organisation called WN. So the system stole a magical healing bean from soone who had already stolen it? There were layers of theft here that made question the system's moral compass.
The other valuable item was the Cloak of Invisibility from Harry Potter. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd received it before or after Harry had used it. I hoped it was after—not because I wanted battle-tested equipnt, but because Harry desperately needed that cloak throughout his school years. If the system had stolen it before Harry could use it, that would an he'd be left without one of his most important tools.
I rembered how the cloak was originally Jas Potter's possession, given to Harry as a Christmas gift from Dumbledore during his first year at Hogwarts. Harry had used it countless tis—to visit the Restricted Section of the library, to gaze into the Mirror of Erised, and to help smuggle Norbert or rather, Norberta, the dragon safely away from Hogwarts with Hermione and Ron.
The cloak had protected him during his nightti wanderings through the castle, his secret trips to Hogsade through the one-eyed witch passage, and had helped him eavesdrop on crucial conversations throughout the years. It was his constant companion during the Triwizard Tournant and later, when the Second Wizarding War began in earnest.
Most importantly, it was one of the three legendary Deathly Hallows—the only one Harry truly mastered and kept, unlike the Elder Wand or the Resurrection Stone. Unlike ordinary invisibility cloaks that fade or tear with ti, this one had remained perfect for centuries.
If the system had snatched it at any point before the Battle of Hogwarts—or even after, when Harry presumably passed it down to his own children—it would disrupt not just Harry's journey but potentially the entire wizarding world's fate.
I shook my head at the thought. Hopefully, the system had so sense of cosmic timing and had plucked the cloak from a mont when its absence wouldn't cause a paradox. Though I wouldn't be surprised if sowhere, a very confused Harry was frantically searching under his bed for his suddenly missing inheritance.
But how would I explain suddenly having an invisibility cloak to my teammates? "Oh this? I just found it lying around in the interdinsional lost and found." I needed to build up more reputation and learn so sealing techniques before I could reasonably explain such an item in my possession.
Perhaps I should just gift it to Rin? She'd probably make better use of it than I could right now. She might even believe I crafted it myself if I presented it properly. Yes, that might work out better in the long run.
Before I even knew which team I would be assigned to last year, I had already considered a possibility: if my presence in this world had caused a butterfly effect, leading to being placed on the sa team as Rin.
For , protecting her was more important than winning the war. I knew what fate had in store for her in the original tiline—captured by Kiri, made into the Three-Tails jinchūriki with a rigged seal, and forced to die by Kakashi's hand.
That tragedy would then push Obito down a dark path, becoming Madara's pawn and eventually bringing catastrophe to the entire shinobi world.
So much suffering and death could be prevented if I could just keep her safe.
Even if I were in her team, I couldn't be sure if I had the skill to protect her.
Ninjas were typically high-offense but fragile in defense—I understood this well. And I knew my biggest weakness was a lack of combat experience. In terms of ninjutsu power, I was already more than sufficient for the Third Great Ninja War.
Moreover, with the help of the Rikugan, my chakra reserves would only grow with age, so I didn't need to worry about my offensive potential for now.
But with strong defensive capabilities, my survivability on the battlefield would greatly increase, reducing the cost of trial and error while gaining battle experience.
Overall, I was quite satisfied with this wish's outco.
In the future, with more data to reference, I might be able to analyze the factors that influence the system's wishes even more accurately.
I'd already seen it with my Rikugan—the team assignnts posted in the Hokage's office before they were officially announced.
Obito, Kakashi, and Rin were placed on the sa team.
anwhile, I was assigned to a team with Shiori, filling the gaps in a frontline squad that had lost two mbers.
Two replacents for two casualties—the brutal math of warti resource allocation. Our skills were needed imdiately, not gradually developed under a jonin instructor.
During warti, so Konoha Academy graduates were directly assigned to squads that had suffered casualties on the front lines.
These newly reinforced teams would then be deployed to the battlefield in the coming days under the leadership of their captains.
Currently, Konoha was engaged in battles on three fronts, primarily against Kiri in the east, Suna and Iwa in the west.
However, Kumo was also watching Konoha closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. If Konoha showed fatigue in the war, the only outco would be getting torn apart by the surrounding wolves.
---
We filed out of the academy gates one last ti, no longer students but soldiers. The building that had housed our childhood training now seed smaller sohow, like a shell outgrown.
Sigh. I sounded like an old man.
"Try not to die out there, losers. I want the satisfaction of beating you all myself soday," Anko said, punching shoulders as she passed.
Asuma, serious for once, nodded to those heading to the frontlines. "If any of you see my brother on the front lines... tell him I'm coming soon."
One by one, our classmates departed, heading in different directions—toward hos, clan compounds, or assignnt briefings. The single path we'd walked together for years now split into a dozen different routes.
That afternoon, after our final dismissal from school, Rin and I walked ho together.
The afternoon sun painted Konoha in warm gold, the street vendors closing up after the day's business, the village preparing for evening. A beautiful day, deceptively peaceful for what it represented—our last day of childhood.
Rin clasped her hands behind her back, her head slightly lowered, and spoke softly, "Ryouma, we're setting off tomorrow, aren't we?"
"Yes."
"It's… a little hard to get used to. It all happened so suddenly."
"That's how life works in our world," I said quietly. "Yesterday we were children. Tomorrow we're soldiers."
"Were we ever really children, though?" Rin asked. "Training since we could walk, preparing for this mont?"
I glanced at her, who was clearly feeling down. I understood her emotions well. I noted the subtle signs of distress—the slight downturn of her mouth, the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twisted together.
For all her training and composure, she had never learned to hide her emotions from those who knew her well.
Ever since we had t, there had hardly been a single day we hadn't seen each other.
To be honest, my own feelings were complicated too. On one hand, I knew that, with my mories from my past life, I couldn't fully see myself as just a child.
On the other hand, my biggest dream in this world was simply to live a peaceful and stable life.
But when I first arrived, I was imdiately faced with my mother's passing. A few years later, my father also left .
The universe seed determined to teach the sa lesson repeatedly—attachnt leaded to loss.
At that ti, I had felt a sense of despair. After all, in my past life, I had died for a ridiculous and senseless reason. Fate was like giving a shit about our lives by sending ManKO. Now, in this new life, I had to start off as an orphan?
Did reincarnators or transmigrators not deserve to have living parents or a happy family?
Was this so cosmic balancing—exchanging a second chance at life for perpetual solitude?
Or simply the random cruelty of a world that distributed suffering without logic or purpose?
Humans were social creatures, and without strong willpower, living alone was incredibly difficult. I knew I wasn't soone with an unshakable resolve. I rely had faked it in the face of death.
Oh, ManKO.
Even living alone in a foreign city was hard—let alone being in an entirely different world. Once the initial novelty of reincarnation faded, all that remained was loneliness.
Pure loneliness.
Even in my past life, isolation had been my greatest fear.
If I hadn't known that Madara's Infinite Tsukuyomi was a lie, I might have actually considered surrendering myself to that dream world. When reality offered only pain and solitude, illusion beca dangerously appealing.
Back when I was drowning in indescribable loneliness, Rin was the one who changed . She was the first person to make feel like soone in this world genuinely cared about , enough to feel sad when I was down.
Because of that, a certain emptiness in my heart was unknowingly filled again.
In this world, I had spent more ti with her than even with my father.
We reached the crossroads where our paths would separate—Rin toward her ho, toward my empty apartnt. Tomorrow, these paths would diverge even further, stretching across battlefields and national borders.
If I had to be really honest, saving Sakumo was sothing I did on a whim, but ensuring Rin's survival in the brutal war was a goal I was willing to risk everything for.
As we said our goodbyes, I watched her walk away.
Protecting this precious bond—this was the objective I absolutely had to achieve.
Damn, I missed my parents.
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