Naruto: Strongest Shinobi System With a Glitch

After classes ended, Kitazawa left the academy and headed straight for Kurenai's home.

After knocking and hearing her voice give permission, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

In the living room, Kurenai and Yakumo sat side by side.

Neither of them wore shoes; their two pairs of pale, delicate feet—one small, one slender and graceful—rested on the wooden floor.

"Kitazawa-sensei."

Yakumo greeted him in a soft, melodious voice.

There was a subtle, enchanting quality to her tone, almost like a gentle caress against the senses.

Kitazawa felt his shoulders relax at once, the day's fatigue melting away as though it had never existed.

"How do you feel?"

Kurenai asked, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Feeling refreshed?"

"Very much so."

Kitazawa snapped back to himself and let out a quiet sigh. "Yakumo's talent for genjutsu really is astonishing."

"Well, she's from the Kurama clan—a name once spoken in the same breath as the Uchiha."

Kurenai paused, then gave him a meaningful look. "You're just in time. We were trying to come up with a name for her new sound-based genjutsu. Any ideas?"

Yakumo's voice had sounded so mesmerizing just moments ago because she'd been using genjutsu woven into her words—a newly developed technique.

This was the D-rank genjutsu she and Kurenai had spent the past two weeks creating.

Its effect was simple yet powerful: through sound, it soothed the mind, lowered defenses, and melted away mental fatigue.

"A name, huh…"

Kitazawa rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Naming things had always been his Achilles' heel.

He could easily spend an hour or two just picking a username in an online game.

"How about… 'Therapeutic Words Jutsu'?" he blurted out as inspiration struck.

"Therapeutic Words Jutsu…"

Kurenai considered it, tapping a finger to her lips. "Not bad. It fits the effect of the genjutsu perfectly."

"Thank you, both sensei."

Yakumo rose and bowed politely.

"No need for thanks."

Kitazawa gave her head a gentle pat. "If you can become a psychological medic, it'll benefit all of us."

"Absolutely," Kurenai agreed. "Who knows—someday we might need you to treat us."

And she wasn't merely saying that to comfort Yakumo.

Among all ninja, genjutsu users were especially prone to psychological injuries.

The reason was simple: genjutsu was a Yin Release technique, meaning it involved direct clashes of mental strength. A single misstep could leave lingering damage.

Take Kakashi Hatake, for example.

After falling victim to Itachi's Tsukuyomi, he'd ended up bedridden for an entire month, his mind ravaged by the trauma.

Of course, the truly unlucky one was Sasuke.

Every time his hatred began to waver, Itachi would hit him with a genjutsu, forcing him to relive the Uchiha massacre over and over again, like a cursed replay on an endless loop.

"Mhm!"

Yakumo nodded earnestly. "I'll do my best!"

"Kitazawa and I can guide you with genjutsu techniques," Kurenai said after a thoughtful pause. "But your true strength lies in your bloodline limit. You need to develop that carefully."

"I understand."

Yakumo's eyes shone with determination. "Kitazawa-sensei has already shown me the path. I'm going to use my paintbrush to bring out its power."

"Your bloodline limit is incredible," Kitazawa said, remembering the monstrous power of Ido from the original timeline. "Don't be afraid of it. You have to learn to accept it."

"I will," Yakumo replied with a confident smile. "After all, I have both of you here. Everything will be fine."

"There's plenty of time. No need to rush," Kurenai said, rising from the sofa. "Kitazawa, stay for dinner. I'll cook something."

"Sure."

Kitazawa accepted the invitation without hesitation.

Over the past two weeks, he'd already freeloaded enough meals at Kurenai's house that they'd become quite comfortable around each other.

"I'll help," he offered, following her into the kitchen.

Kurenai picked up an apron and slipped it over her shoulders.

She reached up to gather her long hair and tie it back, revealing the graceful curve of her pale neck.

After securing her hair into a neat coil, she picked up a spatula, radiating the aura of a gentle, elegant wife.

After dinner, Kitazawa finally said his goodbyes to Kurenai and headed home.

—

A new day dawned: April 30th—the day of Class 1-A's monthly exam.

Kitazawa would also be taking part, since he had his own secret mission to complete.

Securing first place in the exam wouldn't be easy… Although, as the test's creator and the man overseeing all the first-year classes, he did have one considerable advantage:

He already knew all the answers.

'A little cheating isn't cheating,' Kitazawa thought with a grin. 'When it's the teacher cheating, it doesn't count.'

Early that morning, he arrived at the classroom—today's examination hall—ready for the challenge ahead.

Kitazawa let out a soft "Hmm."

He'd just spotted Sasuke.

Compared to the cheerful boy from yesterday, today's Sasuke looked utterly gloomy, as though a raincloud hovered above his head.

"Sasuke, what's the matter?"

Kitazawa approached and asked gently.

"I'm fine."

Sasuke kept his gaze lowered, refusing to meet Kitazawa's eyes.

"No, you're definitely not fine."

Kitazawa sat down beside him. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, how can I help?"

This concerned Kitazawa's own mission, so he wasn't about to let Sasuke give up so easily.

"You can't help."

Sasuke hesitated before answering, his voice low.

He'd seen Kitazawa's Great Fireball Jutsu—and while impressive, it still couldn't compare to Itachi's monstrous flames.

Kitazawa frowned slightly.

'Watch that attitude, kid. I'll give you one more chance to rephrase that.'

"Why can't I help?"

Kitazawa asked, slipping into an exaggerated Madara Uchiha voice. "Have you ever seen me in my prime?"

"N-no…"

Sasuke blinked, momentarily thrown off. Then he blurted out, "Are you stronger than my brother?"

"So, your gloominess today must be because you saw your brother's Great Fireball Jutsu, huh?"

Kitazawa smoothly dodged the question. "How big was it?"

"Three stories high."

Sasuke raised his hand, gesturing to show the height.

After witnessing Itachi's towering inferno the night before, Sasuke had finally understood how vast the gap could be—even between brothers.

"Nine meters?" Kitazawa arched an eyebrow. "Not bad."

"Not bad?"

Sasuke sat up straighter, hope sparking in his dark eyes.

"I could teach you how to blow out a ten-meter-tall Great Fireball."

Kitazawa said it with complete seriousness.

He wasn't boasting.

The Great Fireball Jutsu he'd received from the system was the culmination of countless real-world experiences, poured straight into his brain.

At this point, there was probably no one in the entire ninja world who understood the technique better than he did.

As long as he had enough chakra, Kitazawa could produce a fireball as enormous as he wanted.

'My fireball's huge. Just wait.'

"Really?"

Sasuke's eyes widened in shock and excitement.

"Why would I lie to you?" Kitazawa said, patting his shoulder. "After the monthly exams, I'll teach you."

"Thank you, Kitazawa-sensei!"

Sasuke bowed his head, gratitude shining on his face.

"Now focus on the exam."

Kitazawa stood and made his way up to the podium.

By then, Hinata, Ino, Naruto, and the rest of the class had arrived one by one.

"Listen up, everyone," Kitazawa announced, voice firm. "There's only one rule for this exam: no cheating. Anyone caught will have their score canceled."

At precisely 9:00 a.m., the theoretical test began.

Kitazawa scanned the room.

Sasuke and Shikamaru sat there looking cool and relaxed, as if the whole thing was no big deal. Hinata, meanwhile, looked as though she were preparing to face a life-or-death battle, tension radiating from her every pore.

Then there was Naruto, who stared at his paper, scratching his head so furiously it looked like he might sprout a second brain out of sheer frustration.

Sighing, Kitazawa pulled out his own copy of the test and started filling it in.

But first, he created two shadow clones and dispatched them to patrol the examination hall—just in case anyone got any funny ideas.

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