The green-tier Chakra Fruit had delivered exactly what the system promised—three full months of chakra refinement condensed into a single bite. Not only that, but it had also purified his chakra, sharpening its quality.
The sheer speed of growth…
It felt like he was flying.
Absolutely exhilarating.
Compared to the painful grind he'd endured for the past month, this one fruit was like a godsend.
Honestly, thinking back to how hard he'd worked just to squeeze out a bit of chakra—
Yeah, those days weren't just tough… they were downright pathetic.
But now?
Now he had a system.
And with it, a future worth looking forward to.
"If a green-tier fruit equals three months of training, then what about blue-tier? Or purple-tier?"
The potential was too huge to ignore.
"I need to start farming materials. A lot more materials."
Plans began churning in Hikaru's head.
He had originally planned to keep a low profile at the Ninja Academy. Stay quiet, stay unnoticed, graduate safely.
But now?
That plan was obsolete.
"With the system backing me, my strength will grow at an absurd pace. And to outsiders…"
"I'll just look like a natural-born genius."
And geniuses? They could get away with showing off a little.
Hikaru's triumphant smirk faltered slightly as he caught a faint stench in the air.
He glanced around, then grimaced.
Even with how clean the restroom was, it was still a restroom.
And he'd just eaten a miracle fruit in it.
A long sigh escaped him.
Was this extreme caution… or some weird subconscious kink?
Either way, he left the bathroom with a dark expression.
This might leave a mental scar.
The night passed.
By morning, Seikyū Hikaru stepped out of the orphanage feeling like a man reborn.
He was bursting with energy—ready to smash his way up the ninja ranks and stomp his name into Konoha's memory.
First goal?
Beat every student in his class.
If he could get them all to drop materials, he'd be rolling in loot in no time.
He entered the classroom with a smile on his face.
"Hey, Namikaze. Feel like sparring?"
He didn't waste time.
Hikaru walked straight over to Namikaze Minato and issued a challenge.
Why?
Special Materials.
Last night, Hikaru had remembered an important detail. While normal materials depended on the target's strength, jutsu materials followed strict classifications:
E–C Rank Jutsu → White Material
B Rank Jutsu → Green Material
A Rank Jutsu → Blue Material
S Rank Jutsu → Purple Material
Super S Rank → Black Material
Sage-Level Techniques → Red Material
God Techniques → Gold Material
That was the rough breakdown between jutsu level and material tier.
Problem was, most of his classmates had no real jutsu at all. No techniques, no experience. Which meant: no loot.
Because if someone hadn't learned anything?
There was nothing to drop.
But Special Materials were different.
Their tier wasn't tied to strength—but to luck. When dropped, their tier was completely random.
White? Possible.
Gold? Also possible.
Pure RNG.
The only caveat? Special Materials only dropped from certain people.
Plot-important characters.
People like… Namikaze Minato.
The future Yellow Flash. Fourth Hokage. Father of the protagonist.
If Hikaru couldn't pull a special drop from him, then who else could he possibly try?
"Um… Hikaru, I don't really think fighting is a good idea…" Minato responded gently.
He clearly wasn't the confrontational type.
Hikaru smiled.
"Minato, combat is a required part of our curriculum. It's to prepare us for real missions. We both know it's important."
Then his tone shifted—loud enough for the entire class to hear.
"Frankly, you're the only one here worthy of being my opponent. The rest are just… weaklings."
BOOM.
Silence.
Then—
RAGE.
"You arrogant bastard!"
"You think beating a few punks makes you top dog!?"
"There are way stronger people in this class!"
The room exploded with noise.
Every student had clearly heard his words—and they were pissed.
Meanwhile, the very guys Hikaru had beaten the day before were trying to disappear into their seats, faces pale.
Internally, they were screaming:
"Why are WE catching strays?! Go insult someone else!"
But saying that out loud? Not happening.
If they dared interrupt the outrage train now, they'd probably get beaten again—this time by the class.
Hikaru raised one hand.
The room went still again.
He smiled.
"Apologies," he said casually. "Didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Just stating the truth."
"But I'll give you all a chance to prove me wrong."
"I'll be waiting on the rooftop during break. Come challenge me if you think you can win."
"And if you know you're weak… feel free to stay in class."
With that, he dropped the mic and strolled back to his seat.
The class was stunned.
First, they thought he was apologizing.
Then he doubled down.
Challenge accepted.
"Hikaru, you're going down."
"I'll show you the difference between trash and talent."
"Wait for me on that rooftop—you better not chicken out!"
Every student was fired up.
The only ones not cheering were the "losers" from yesterday, who were now officially labeled as "those few trash punks."
They had never wanted to disappear more.
But even they resolved to show up.
If only to erase the stain on their names.
Hikaru turned to Minato one last time.
"I hope to see you there, Namikaze."
Then he leaned back, grinning.
This had gone even better than expected.
Challenge issued. Traps set. Targets acquired.
Because if he wanted loot, he had to defeat targets that had refined chakra.
Civilians and random kids weren't eligible.
But picking random fights? That would raise too many red flags.
People would talk.
Too suspicious.
So he'd provoked them—loudly and publicly.
Now they'd volunteer themselves.
All he had to do was crush them, one by one.
And the drops would come rolling in.
Author's Note:
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