...
Despite the lingering headache, Murakami remained seated at his desk.
A notebook lay open before him, filled with clear sketches of chakra flow diagrams, and scattered observations regarding the Shockwave Jutsu.
He stared at it briefly before pulling another book from a locked drawer.
Unlike his ordinary notes, this one was different.
Its pages were thick with a plain cover and no title written anywhere.
Murakami opened it carefully.
Inside were years of accumulated records.
Martial arts observations.
Chakra control exercises.
Academy notes.
Experimental theories.
Failed ideas.
Successful ones.
Every meaningful step of his growth since arriving in this world has been recorded here.
It was, in a sense, his own forbidden book of seals.
Not because any individual technique inside was particularly dangerous, hell, there wasn't even a single completely understandable technique in it.
It was forbidden because the book contained something far more valuable; A complete roadmap of his development.
The mistakes, breakthroughs and logic behind every decision.
If someone obtained it and possessed the necessary talent and insight, they could theoretically retrace years of his progress.
Murakami flipped through several pages before stopping near the most recent section.
Then he began writing.
Mindscape observations.
Time differential.
Estimated ratio: three to four times normal perception.
Primary energy source appears to be spiritual energy.
Excessive utilization results in forced ejection and mental fatigue.
Potential applications:
Combat simulation.
Genjutsu study.
Fuinjutsu analysis.
Jutsu refinement.
Potential risks:
Unknown long-term spiritual strain.
Unknown impact on sleep cycles.
Unknown impact on memory formation.
Further testing required.
He continued for nearly an hour.
By the time he finally closed the book, the headache had mostly faded.
Satisfied, Murakami returned the volume to its hiding place.
The headache had mostly faded by now, leaving only a faint pressure behind his eyes.
He glanced toward the window to find that the sun had not yet set.
After sitting indoors for most of the afternoon, Murakami decided to step outside.
The clearing behind his house was quiet as usual, a few trees bordered the area, their shadows stretching long across the grass.
Murakami carried a book with him and settled beneath one of the trees.
It wasn't a shinobi manual or a chakra theory text.
Just a general book on regional geography around the land of fire.
Useful material.
The sort of thing most academy students and even shinobis would never willingly read.
Murakami flipped through the pages calmly.
Mountain ranges, river systems, major and minor villages and border territories. Information that seemed mundane until one remembered that wars were often decided by terrain long before they were decided by strength.
The pages turned slowly, and the sounds of evening insects gradually filled the clearing as time passed quietly.
Eventually the sunlight faded completely beyond the treeline and Murakami closed the book.
His stomach reminded him that lunch had been many hours ago.
Returning inside, he prepared a simple meal.
Rice, vegetable soup and a small portion of grilled fish left over from the previous day.
Nothing extravagant one would expect from a chaebol like himself, but it was enough.
After eating, he washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen and the house fell silent once more.
Murakami stood near the window for a moment, looking out at the distant lights scattered across Konoha.
Even at night, the village never truly slept.
Not with a war underway.
Somewhere beyond those walls, shinobi were fighting, scouting, and dying.
The thought lingered briefly before he pushed it aside.
There was nothing to be gained from dwelling on things beyond his control.
Tomorrow had its own tasks waiting.
Murakami turned off the lights as the room darkened.
A few moments later, he lay down and closed his eyes.
Before long, sleep claimed him.
…
The following morning arrived quickly and Murakami woke before sunrise as usual.
Meditation, physical conditioning, bath and breakfast.
Nothing changed.
Routine existed for a reason.
After finishing his morning meal, he sat briefly beneath a shade outside his house.
His thoughts drifting toward the previous day's discoveries.
The mindscape was useful. Extremely useful.
The Shockwave Jutsu saw some improvements after his experiments on it yesterday.
His taijutsu too continued improving.
His chakra control remained among the best in his age group.
But none of that addressed the problem currently standing in front of him.
Knowledge.
Murakami opened his eyes.
That was the bottleneck.
Not talent.
Not effort.
Not chakra.
Knowledge.
The mindscape accelerated learning. It did not create information from nothing.
Every improvement still required a foundation, every theory still required reference material and every experiment still required principles to build upon.
His current understanding of chakra theory, fuinjutsu, and advanced shinobi arts remained largely self-taught.
That could only carry him so far.
Eventually, he would encounter problems he lacked the information to solve.
Kaito-sensei was helpful in his own way, but Murakami had categorized him as a hands-off kind of sensei.
Definitely not the reliable kind if he wanted to grow at his own pace.
And judging from the Shockwave Jutsu's recent development, that point was approaching faster than he liked.
Murakami stood.
There was one obvious solution.
The village archives.
...
Roughly thirty minutes later, Murakami arrived at the large administrative building near the center of Konoha.
Compared to the mission hall, the atmosphere here was quieter.
Shinobi entered and exited carrying scroll cases and books rather than weapons.
Murakami stepped inside.
Rows of shelves could be seen beyond several secured corridors.
His eyes lingered on them briefly.
Knowledge.
Years of accumulated village knowledge.
Medical texts.
Historical records.
Combat reports.
Chakra research.
Potentially even fuinjutsu materials.
Exactly what he needed.
He approached the reception desk.
A middle-aged clerk glanced up from a stack of paperwork.
"Name?"
"Haruki Murakami."
The clerk searched through a nearby ledger.
A moment later, he frowned.
"Genin?"
"Yes."
The man nodded.
Then closed the ledger.
"Archive access denied."
"Denied?"
"Denied."
The response was immediate and matter-of-fact.
As though this conversation occurred dozens of times per week but Murakami remained calm. "May I know the reason?"
The clerk pointed toward a notice hanging behind him.
"Insufficient contribution points."
Murakami followed the gesture and saw where a large chart covered part of the wall.
His eyes scanned it quickly.
Contribution Points Required:
Basic Archive Access — 500 Points
Intermediate Archive Access — 2,500 Points
Advanced Archive Access — 10,000 Points
Restricted Archive Access — Authorization Required
Murakami stared at the numbers. "...Contribution points..?"
The clerk nodded. "Village contribution system."
Seeing Murakami's confused expression, he elaborated.
"Every shinobi accumulates contribution points through service to the village."
His finger tapped the chart.
"D-Rank Missions."
10 points.
"C-Rank Missions."
50 points.
"B-Rank Missions."
250 points.
"A-Rank Missions."
1,000 points.
"S-Rank Missions."
5,000 points.
Murakami immediately noticed the pattern.
Geometric progression…well, except for B to A rank missions. Murakami didn't need to ask the clerk to know that B-rank missions had a high probability of turning to A-rank or worse, S-rank.
The progression was efficient, simple and difficult to exploit.
The clerk continued.
"Points can also be earned through battlefield achievements, intelligence gathering, exceptional service, and approved research contributions."
Murakami nodded slowly.
His eyes drifted back toward the requirement list.
Basic archives access requires five hundred points.
That wasn't impossible, but it certainly wasn't something an ordinary academy graduate could obtain immediately.
His current total was displayed beside his name in the ledger.
83.
Murakami stared at the number, then looked back at the required amount.
500.
A gap of 417 points.
Silence followed.
The clerk offered him a sympathetic look. "Most Genin don't qualify." He said, as though trying to comfort him.
But Murakami wasn't particularly distressed. He understood perfectly that Knowledge was power.
Shinobi Villages won't just hand power out freely.
Especially during wartime.
If anything, the restrictions made sense.
Eventually, he nodded, disappointed. "I understand."
The clerk seemed relieved the conversation wasn't turning argumentative.
Murakami turned and began walking toward the exit.
His disappointment lasted approximately three seconds.
After that, it transformed into something more useful.
A goal.
The archives were no longer a vague future objective.
They had become measurable.
Five hundred points.
Over the past month, his team had completed enough missions to earn him eighty-three contribution points.
Five hundred still felt frustratingly far away.
Thankfully, Kaito-sensei wasn't opposed to taking C-rank missions.
He needed 50 more single C-rank missions to gain access to the intermediate archive.
He now had a clear requirement, a clear path, and a clear reward.
As Murakami stepped outside into the morning sunlight, he looked toward the direction of the mission hall.
Contribution points.
He had come to understand that missions weren't just about the monetary rewards like it was made to seem in the anime.
In order to grow legally under the village system, you need to contribute to the village in some manner.
All roads seemed to lead through the same place in the end.
With his next objective feeling perfectly clear, he started walking toward the mission hall.
Hopefully, Kaito-sensei would pick a C-rank mission this time…preferably one with the potential of escalating into a B-rank mission.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
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