The walk from the orphanage to the Academy was as tranquil as ever as Murakami made his way there after a brief holiday.
Though to him, it wasn't one. The break had passed so quickly it hardly felt like a break at all.
The morning air carried a fresh chill, a quiet reminder that autumn was slowly creeping in. Leaves rustled in the breeze, a few drifting lazily onto the dirt path ahead of him.
Murakami's mind, however, was elsewhere, sorting through the events of the past few days. Training.
All of it was finally starting to take shape.
He could now proudly declare himself a complete shinobi long before graduating from the Academy and receiving a forehead protector.
As the old saying went: money solved ninety-nine percent of one's problems. The remaining one percent? Luck and determination… probably. Even he wasn't sure.
So where did it all begin?
Chakra.
When it came to chakra levels, Murakami could confidently say he had reached the level of a proper genin.
The unit of measurement was messed up as usual, but what could he do?
Absolutely nothing.
So other than comparing it with those who were of the genin rank, there was nothing else he could do.
However, it was nothing extraordinary compared to those infuri—gifted individuals with kekkei genkai, but for someone civilian-born?
It was unmistakably genius-level growth.
Chakra, the fusion of spiritual and physical energy, had become the foundation of his progress.
His approach to it, which included meditation paired with intense physical training, had proven to be the most efficient path to refining his control and expanding his reserves.
Meditation sharpened his mental state, strengthening the spiritual component of his chakra, enhancing clarity, focus, control, and depth of perception.
Physical training reinforced his body's capacity to handle larger chakra loads.
Every movement done under the gravity seals molded his body, ensuring his physical energy kept pace with his spiritual growth.
(A/N: I'm changing the weighted seal to gravity seal. So instead of writing in Kg, I'll write in X gravity. So 2X gravity and onward.)
The result? Chakra control became increasingly effortless.
In his Chakra Web exercise, he could extend ten chakra threads from his fingers and maintain them for a solid twenty minutes, each thread reaching up to twelve meters before flickering at the edges.
If that wasn't impressive, he didn't know what was, especially considering his reserves were only genin-level.
In practical terms, it meant he could outlast the average genin by a full twenty minutes in battle. And in a real fight, endurance was often the deciding factor between victory and defeat.
Afterall…survival is winning.
Then there was Ninjutsu.
Murakami reminded himself once again that money was everything here.
With his current level of chakra control, he could fire off D-rank techniques up to forty times before running dry.
That alone was terrifying, considering most academy students barely managed ten to fifteen.
Not that it surprised him.
Most of them hadn't even touched the tree-walking exercise yet so they just executed their techniques on feeling.
And his siblings who trained with him?
They had the audacity to treat his training like a fun activity but they did improve just by copying him.
'Fucking kids.' Murakami cursed internally as he recalled the memory. 'Not that I don't love them though. They would make for wonderful minions in the coming years.'
C-rank techniques were a different story for Murakami. With their triple chakra cost, he managed around fifteen before depleting his chakra.
It wasn't impressive by the standards of young Sasuke who could spam C-ranks all day despite mediocre chakra control but… well, Sasuke was Sasuke.
And Murakami was Murakami.
No point comparing himself to a walking bloodline jackpot with an ancestral heritage slumbering within.
As for the two B-rank techniques he possessed, he could squeeze out five uses at best before fatigue set in and eight times before he was bottomed out.
And not just any kind of fatigue, it was both mental and physical.
It was decent, more than decent for a civilian-born kid and he wasn't delusional enough to compare himself to Naruto and Sasuke, who tossed out A-rank Rasengan and Chidori like festival candy.
'Seriously…how did they pull that off?' Murakami couldn't help but wonder as he walked. 'One was the reincarnation of a demigod. The other had a nuclear-reactor fox in his stomach…on top of being a reincarnation too. Tch.'
Murakami had none of that but he had hard work, a good head on his shoulder, and pure spite for being weak.
He was efficient enough that although he couldn't bombard enemies with Rasengan, he could fight longer and smarter.
Every jutsu in his arsenal mattered and every ounce of chakra was measured. He wasn't a prodigy born with talent, he manufactured his own talent through effort.
And honestly?
That was enough.
For now.
After all, preparation could outdo talent, and bloodlines meant nothing when your opponent simply refused to die.
Still, despite all his ninjutsu progress, the largest branch of his arsenal, the one that shocked even him, was Genjutsu.
Ever since learning the D-rank False Surroundings Technique in class, his talent for illusions had exploded.
He could cast it as well as other D-Rank Genjutsu sixty times before mental fatigue kicked in. At seventy, the migraine arrived.
He had no anime benchmark to compare that with, but he didn't need one.
He was a genius in his own right. Itachi didn't count…Itachi had the Sharingan. That alone disqualified him from being a comparison.
Speaking of eyes…
Murakami had tried using his own as a genjutsu medium, but his eyes weren't chakra-conductive at all. So he went for the next best option:
Sound.
The sound of his voice.
It was undeniably cool, talking to someone, calling their name, and bam, they dropped into a genjutsu.
He got the inspiration from the B-rank genjutsu: Yami Uta no Jutsu (Song of Darkness technique). A Genjutsu that gradually dulls an opponent's senses the longer they listen to the user's voice.
He couldn't exactly spam this Genjutsu but he used it to improvise on the others.
A few sharp academy students broke out from the D-rank genjutsu immediately… of course. His voice wasn't exactly a siren-tier weapon.
If it were, he'd already be in the Bingo Book.
Still, sound-based genjutsu was a massive win. No hand seals, no buildup, just words.
The downsides to this was that his control wasn't yet refined, and perceptive students could shake it off quickly.
That was a flaw in genjutsu, as long as the mind doesn't believe it to be real and questions it hard enough, its effectiveness would be reduced.
But to Murakami, genjutsu wasn't about brute strength, it was about layering.
If one genjutsu failed, the next one slipped in before the target even realized something was wrong with the first.
Itachi taught him that.
"You have that look again, Mura-chi."
Just then, a familiar voice cut through Murakami's thoughts causing him to pause.
He turned towards the sound to see Aiko staring at him with that same pitiful expression she always wore whenever she believed he was moments away from mentally unraveling.
She insisted that one day, his constant internal monologues would make him go off the deep end.
She'd never understand…and he couldn't blame her. Not everyone was comfortable hearing the sound of their own voice echoing inside their head.
Murakami sighed, shaking his head. "Aiko, you make it sound like I'm planning world domination."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Aren't you?"
Murakami scoffed disdainfully. "Please. If I wanted to rule the world, I'd at least start with the Academy, don't you think?"
Her eyebrow twitched. "That's… not reassuring, Mura-chi."
Murakami rolled his eyes and then continued on his way with Aiko following beside him.
Aiko was a cheerful girl, but she always worried too much and that was just who she was. If anything, she balanced out his overactive mind, an anchor to keep him from drifting too far into thought.
She was vastly different from Hina.
Hina would just sit back and enjoy the ride to see where his mind could take him.
Murakami smirked at the thought.
Still, Aiko wasn't entirely wrong. Most people didn't grin while thinking about casting reality-warping illusions on unsuspecting classmates.
But Murakami wasn't exactly "most people."
"Relax, Aiko. I'm just thinking about my training." Murakami said after a long silence.
She shot him the skeptical look she had perfected over the years, one that silently screamed liar.
"You mean your 'I can make people question reality with just my voice' training?"
He shrugged. "It's effective, isn't it?"
Aiko dragged a hand down her face dramatically, she was a victim so she knew it was. "If you ever turn evil, just… spare me first, alright?"
Murakami smirked. "You won't try to stop me?"
It was now Aiko's turn to roll her eyes. "You may be able to fool the others, but not me Mura-chi."
"Come on, you could at least try." Murakami teased. "Aren't you going to pull me back onto the right path?"
"Right path my ass." Aiko cursed.
"Language, Aiko." Murakami chided playfully but all he got was a snort.
"Like there is a distinction between right and wrong for you." She said and Murakami chuckled.
"You're right." He said seriously. "There isn't a right or wrong, only the path meant for me."
"So you promise to spare me?" She asked again, this time acting all cute.
"No promises." was Murakami's reply.
She groaned loudly, though the small smile tugging her lips betrayed her amusement.
'Good.' She thought to herself, recalling her conversation with Hina some time back.
"Someone has to keep him grounded," she had told her.
Aiko didn't understand it then, but when she began training with him, she got to see his talent upfront and had been given a front-row seat to observe the kind of talent that wasn't loud, it simply worked in silence.
And that was dangerous.
Especially now that his genjutsu talent was growing fast.
Unaware of her thoughts, Murakami was actually thankful he had someone he could hold this kind of conversation with.
He knew that the stronger he became, especially with illusions, the thinner the line between reality and deception would grow.
He briefly thought of Itachi, and immediately decided he didn't want to end up anything like that.
Then something clicked.
'Wait… how had Aiko even gotten this close without him noticing?' He glanced at her.
His chakra sense had expanded to a solid thirty meters, double what it used to be, yet she had slipped right through it. That wasn't easy.
Murakami narrowed his eyes, giving her a sidelong look. "You're getting sneaky, Aiko."
Aiko grinned triumphantly, "You're getting careless, Mura-chi."
He snorted. "That is unlikely."
Even now, he couldn't detect her chakra despite the fact that she stood right beside him.
This wasn't a fluke. It simply meant that she was that good at hiding her chakra. 'As I thought, having her learn medical ninjutsu was the right call.'
Among their ragtag group of orphans, she was undoubtedly the most talented.
…Female, that is.
He'd never dare say that part aloud. His ego wouldn't allow it.
They soon arrived at the academy which was already abuzz with chatter of anxious excitement about class placement, friendly arguments, and the lingering shadow of the war overhead.
"Bet you we're in different classes," Aiko muttered, hands tucked behind her head.
Murakami shot her a look. "You sound worried."
"Of course I'm worried!" she snapped. "What if I get stuck with a bunch of meatheads while you sit around messing with people's minds all year?"
Murakami smirked. "There you go making it sound like I do it for fun."
She stared at him flatly.
Murakami coughed. "…Okay, maybe a little. The most part is for training."
The Academy kids were good practice…she knew it, he knew it.
Animals would only take him so far.
As they reached the crowded notice board, Aiko grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward.
"Oi—"
"Less talking, more looking!"
He sighed but let her lead. She always got like this when excited.
Together, they pushed through the crowd until the class lists came into view.
There it was:
Class 6-A
Under a couple of names,
Haruki Murakami
Himura Aiko
Aiko gasped before beaming. "Yes! We're together!"
Her joy radiated off her in waves. Murakami, however, had expected it. She was talented and smart.
Konoha's educational system wasn't so flawed that they would relegate her to a lower class just because she was a civilian.
Did that make him sound like an ass? Maybe.
But it didn't change the fact that most of the Academy's top prospects came from clans, and Aiko's ability to stand among them without any inherited advantages was impressive.
He didn't bother putting himself at the same pedestal as her.
She was just a kid while he was a kid with an adult mind, filled with information and knowledge about things not many in this world knew.
Seeing her so genuinely happy over something so simple…
He couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips.
"See? Nothing to worry about."
Aiko planted her hands on her hips. "You could at least pretend to be surprised!"
He shrugged. "Not my fault I actually think ahead."
She groaned. "You're impossible."
Murakami only smirked. 'So Final year…huh.'
Things were about to get interesting.
One more year before he stepped onto the battlefield.
One more year before he saw whether eight years of effort had been worth it.