"This is going to be so easy. I heard the first-year exercises are a joke," one said.
"Really? I heard it'll be difficult," the other replied, wrinkling their nose like it personally offended them.
I sat behind them, arms crossed, and let my gaze sweep the room. Tens of kids shuffled around like a herd of confused puppies, Bags lying beside their desk. Some stared at the ceiling as if the plaster might suddenly inspire them.
The teacher – a Genin, I guess – strode to the front. Chest out, hands clasped behind his back, wide smile plastered on like it was glued there.
"Welcome to your first year at the Academy!" he bellowed. "You'll learn to control your body, control your chakra, and understand the spirit of a shinobi. Basic exercises first, then chakra flow, then theory: the Will of Fire, history of the village, strategy, and… a bit of math."
I leaned back, sarcastic whistle, quiet enough for only me to hear. Body drills, chakra awareness, and a side of village propaganda with numbers. Fantastic. Just what I dreamed of.
By noon, I was already fed up. This was so boring my chakra itched for something better. Of course, it does I mean I spent the last years training most of the time. I really need the Shadow Clone or I will not survive this.
After class, a tall, arrogant boy sidled over. Clearly the type to think life owed him extra chakra.
"You must think you're someone special" he said, smirking. "But don't get cocky just because you did well on the exams. You did alright for a girl that is!"
I didn't even blink. Not once. Dead-eyed, expression perfectly neutral. Silence. His grin faltered, shrank, shrivelled, and he finally decided talking wasn't worth it walking away like a kicked puppy. I returned my attention to the ceiling. Shadow Clone. Definitely for this shit.
The rest of the day crawled by one dull exercise after another. Rope-jumping. Branch-balancing. Shuriken throwing. Patriotic shit. More Patriotic shit. And a bit of patriotic nonsense.
By the time I slipped out of the Academy it was already afternoon. I went to Old man Mira's house only to see my father there, sleeves rolled up, hands bearing evidence of some recent medical work.
"Father?" My voice practically bounced off the walls. "When did you get back?"
He turned, a smile blooming across his face. "Kuroha. Just arrived a little while ago. I was sent back to tend to the injured."
I bounced on my heels anyway. "Tell me everything! How's the war really? The front lines? Who's winning?"
He gave a short, tight smile. "Konoha is generally winning. Minato stabilized the front, but there are murmurs… some say the Uchiha aren't giving their all. Bastards. The situation is delicate. Civilians are strained. Morale is fragile. But yes… overall, we're holding."
"And training!" I declared, urgency leaking out of me. "I want sword training now. I can handle it. The Academy is… boring. And I need Shadow Clone Jutsu to survive this."
My father raised an eyebrow. "Shadow Clone? Dangerous. Not enough chakra volume for proper use without supervision."
"Exactly why I need you. I can't just sit there jumping ropes and memorizing slogans. My chakra control? Perfectly fine, better than fine!
„Well she is not wrong her chacra control is acceptable, but don't you dare slack in Fuinjutsu! "Grandpa Mira added from the back.
He sighed, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright. I can never say not o you. Step by step. But push too far, you stop. Agreed?"
Later, as we packed to leave, my father turned to Mira. "Thank you. For watching over her while I was away. I know it wasn't easy."
Mira snorted, hand scratching the temple. "Hmph. Loud. Annoying. But not completely hopeless. I don't owe you anything."
I caught the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Classic Tsundere.