Murakami's POV
Turning my attention to the field, I noticed another class wrapping up their turn.
Some of their students had already finished and were watching us with disinterest, or in some cases, mild amusement.
Upperclassmen.
Even at a glance, it was clear they were on a different level.
While our class was still dealing with basic fundamentals, the older students were already incorporating ninjutsu into their spars.
I caught glimpses of them weaving hand seals, releasing bursts of flame, water, and lightning in controlled exchanges.
How very interesting.
I can't wait to become a mage soon.
There were some D-Rank ninjutsus in the library but those were inaccessible to students of lower grade.
Only the 5th and 6th years were allowed.
Now, I wasn't a clan kid and my parents didn't particularly leave me an inheritance of jutsus…hmm?
Wait a moment…
Maybe they did but I'm not yet of the right age to claim them?
Not that it matters though.
I never had any hope for such things after all.
If I needed to acquire jutsu scrolls, I could always acquire them myself.
Matsuda-sensei's voice pulled me back. "Alright, next group."
As I stood to the side, I let my gaze drift across the field again.
Everywhere I looked, students were pushing themselves.
Other classes were running through similar tests, each instructor evaluating their students.
Some kids looked ready to pass out from exhaustion, while others seemed eager for more.
It was sad seeing this. Most of them won't even get a proper burial if they stepped out into the world of shinobi.
If I wanted to survive this world, I had to be patient, and most of all, very careful.
For now, I'd stick to my pace, make more money and learn everything I can.
The anime only gave general information of this world and I wasn't about to rely on that alone.
…
Normal POV.
Just like that, it was over.
He watched the children file back toward their classroom in a swarm of chatter and energy. But his gaze kept drifting back to one figure in particular.
Murakami.
The boy walked in the middle of the group, hands in his haori, head tilted slightly as if half-listening to his friends. There was nothing remarkable about him at first glance.
He didn't lead yet didn't lag behind.
He just… blended.
That in itself was odd.
Matsuda had seen a lot of students in his time — the loud, the proud, the ones who wanted to prove they could be the next Hokage.
But Murakami was different.
The more he watched him, the less sense it made.
He had balance, posture, and breathing control that most shinobi still struggled to grasp.
His eyes moved the way a trained shinobi's did, quietly measuring distance, timing, wind, rhythm.
But the boy made no effort to stand out.
If anything, he avoided it.
He thought, just for a moment, of recommending Murakami for early taijutsu specialization training.
But recalling the way the boy carried himself made him stop.
Students like that who were quiet, watchful and often carried weight heavier than talent. The kind that couldn't be seen in grades or scores.
"Maybe it's better if he stays ordinary," Matsuda said softly, slipping the clipboard under his arm. "At least for now."
He turned back toward the main building, leaving the training field empty behind him.
…
The air felt lighter after Matsuda-sensei dismissed us. The tension from the practical exams finally eased.
Instead, a new energy buzzed among my classmates. Excitement.
Three weeks.
That was how long we had before we had to return to this grueling cycle of training and lectures.
Of course, we still had to come in tomorrow to check our results, but after that, we were free.
I stifled a yawn, rolling my shoulders as I made my way down the academy path, only for a sudden weight to land on my back.
A few of our other classmates had caught up, and before I knew it, we were walking together, the conversation spiraling into complaints about the tests.
"I still can't feel my arms," Genji groaned, stretching them out dramatically. "That rope climb was unfair. Some of us don't have monkey limbs like Murakami."
"I almost fell off the beams," Kaito admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "I don't know how you balanced so well, Murakami."
I shrugged. "I just kept my weight centered."
"That doesn't help!" he cried but I ignored him.
Daisuke snorted. "At least you didn't almost take out your sensei with a shuriken."
We all turned to look at him.
"I said almost!" he huffed, his cheeks flushing. "He dodged it! He was fine! No harm done!"
"That's not the point," Rika sighed, shaking her head.
I chuckled, enjoying the casual banter. It was rare for us to talk like this, without the looming pressure of training or studies.
"Anyway," Kaito piped up, "the break starts tomorrow! Finally, some freedom! No more running, no more lectures, no more terrifying Matsuda-sensei staring into our souls."
"Seriously," Genji nodded. "I'm going to sleep in so much."
Rika scoffed. "You mean waste all your time doing nothing?"
"Exactly."
"What about you, Rika?" I asked, curious.
She sighed, glancing up at the sky. "My parents will probably make me train. Again. It's always the same—'Rika, you need to improve your form.' 'Rika, you should start chakra control exercises.' 'Rika, why aren't you already a chunin?' hmm? No, that one is for my elder sister."
Daisuke winced. "Oof. That sounds rough."
True. "It is rough." I said in sympathy.
Kaito, however, grinned. "Well, I'm going to eat until I explode. My parents promised we'd go to that new sweets shop in the west district."
Genji gasped. "The one with the honey cakes?!"
"Yes!"
Daisuke clutched his chest. "Invite me."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
Genji pouted. "Some friend you are."
How dull can children be? If I were any other orphan right now, I'd probably be all droopy hearing all this.
I snorted, shaking my head. "Sounds like you all have plans."
"What about you, Murakami?" Rika asked, tilting her head. "What are you doing during the break?"
I hesitated for a split second before shrugging.
"Just the usual."
That was vague enough to be the truth without actually telling them anything.
No one questioned it.
I wasn't exactly known for being open about my personal life, so they moved on, their conversation shifting toward how to spend the rest of today.
Eventually, we reached the point where our paths split, everyone heading home in different directions.
"See you tomorrow!" Kaito called out, waving lazily.
I nodded, watching them leave before turning away myself.
Now that I was alone, I let out a slow breath.
This kind of carefree atmosphere wasn't bad. But it wasn't something I could afford to get used to.
Shaking the thought away, I adjusted my pace and made my way toward the East Market District, toward my store.
…
The East Market was as lively as ever. The scent of fresh-baked bread, grilled skewers, and spices filled the air.
I navigated the crowd with ease, slipping through the bustling streets until I reached the familiar sight of my general store.
The store had originally belonged to Ishida-san, but after striking a deal with the old man, I had taken over its operations.
A small bell chimed as I stepped inside.
The interior was modest, wooden shelves lined with various supplies, from foodstuffs and daily necessities to the occasional trinkets that travelers brought in to trade.
And there, behind the counter, was the familiar figure of Hina.
She glanced up as I entered, her short brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail. "You're late."
I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know I was expected."
She scoffed, wiping her hands on her apron. "After those academy tests, I figured you'd come by. How'd it go?"
I leaned against the counter. "I will pass."
"That's all you're giving me?"
"That's all that matters."
Hina rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
I smirked. "And yet, you keep working here."
She huffed but didn't deny it.
I glanced around the store, noting that everything was still in order.
Business had been steady, and even though I couldn't always be here, Hina kept things running smoothly in my absence.
"Any trouble while I was gone?" I asked.
"Nothing major," she said, tapping her fingers against the counter. "A few rowdy kids tried to steal some candy, but I scared them off."
"By doing what?"
"Glared at them."
I chuckled. "Terrifying."
"You know it." She giggled and raised her chest proudly.
The store was calm, a contrast to the lively streets outside.
It was a welcome change of pace, a place where I could focus on things other than training and keeping up appearances.
For now, this was my real work.
And I had three weeks to make the most of it.