[1] – The Academy Entrance Exam
[1] – The Academy Entrance Exam
Reiji walked beside the woman—Nanako, as he’d learned she was called—through the winding streets of what appeared to be a village built in harmony with the surrounding forest. Massive trees stretched skyward beyond the settlement’s boundaries, their canopies casting dappled shadows across wooden buildings connected by a network of bridges, platforms, and walkways.
As they moved through the morning crowds, Reiji’s mind raced. The architecture, the clothing styles, the headbands many adults wore—all of it tugged at a distant memory, something he had glimpsed but never paid much attention to.
This looks like that show...
Jason, his roommate at university, had been obsessed with animated shows from Japan.
Anime, he called them.
Jason would spend hours watching colorful characters with impossible hairstyles leap across the screen, performing physics-defying feats while shouting about determination and friendship. Reiji had never had the time or interest to join these marathon sessions, always buried in his textbooks or rushing to his part-time job.
But occasionally, he’d glance up from his studies to see a blond kid in an orange jumpsuit on the screen, or ninja-like characters running up vertical surfaces. Wasn’t there a spiral leaf symbol involved? Something about hidden villages?
What was it called? Naruto?
A chill ran down his spine as realization dawned. The spiral emblem he’d seen in his vision—it was from that show. And this village, with its wooden structures and forest setting...
“Nanako-san,” he ventured carefully, “what village is this?”
The woman looked down at him with a mixture of amusement and confusion. “My, did you hit your head this morning? This is Konohagakure, the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Your home since I found you at the orphanage gate three years ago.”
Konoha. The very name confirmed his suspicions, sending a wave of disbelief through him. Somehow, impossibly, he had been transported into a fictional world—one he barely knew anything about beyond the occasional glimpse of his roommate’s television screen.
“Are you nervous about the entrance exam?” Nanako asked, misinterpreting his stunned expression. “Don’t be. I know you’ll do well.”
“The exam...” Reiji repeated numbly. “What exactly does it involve?”
Nanako chuckled. “You’ve been talking about it for weeks! Basic chakra control, some physical tests, and a written portion. Nothing you haven’t prepared for.”
Chakra. So that’s what ‘Chatora’ is supposed to be.
The mispronunciation in his system interface suddenly made sense—a translation error of some kind. But that knowledge did little to calm his nerves. How was he supposed to pass an exam on ninja skills when he had no idea how to access or control this energy?
They turned a corner, and a large building came into view. Unlike the other wooden structures, this one was more substantial, with a red circular roof and the spiral-leaf emblem prominently displayed. Children around his age streamed toward it, many accompanied by parents who wore the metal headbands that Reiji now recognized as a symbol of their ninja status.
“Here we are—the Academy,” Nanako said, stopping at the entrance to the schoolyard. She knelt down, straightening his collar. “Remember what we practiced. Focus your chakra like I showed you. Don’t let anyone make you feel less because you’re not from a clan.”
Reiji nodded automatically, though panic bubbled inside him. Did she show me? When? How?
Nanako pressed something into his hand—a small, wrapped bento box. “For lunch. I packed your favorite.” She smiled, then gave him a gentle push toward the entrance. “Go on. Show them what you’re made of.”
With one last encouraging nod, she turned and disappeared into the morning crowd, leaving Reiji alone among the throng of children and parents.
This is bad. Really bad.
He clutched the bento box, suddenly feeling every bit the six-year-old he appeared to be. Around him, children hugged their parents goodbye or gathered in small groups, clearly familiar with each other. Some looked confident, others nervous—but all of them belonged here in a way he didn’t.
A chime sounded, and the children began filing into the building. Reiji followed, his heart pounding. As he entered the hallway, the system interface flashed before his eyes.
[New Quest Activated: Academy Entrance Examination]
Objective: Pass the entrance exam to become an Academy student
Reward: Academy Student Status, Basic Chakra Control, +1 Chatora Reserve
Failure: Remain a civilian, -10 Natural Affinity
The quest notification only heightened his anxiety. Not only did he have to somehow pass this exam with zero preparation, but failing might apparently have lasting consequences for his development in this world.
Following the flow of children, he entered a large classroom with tiered seating. Most kids quickly found friends to sit with, but Reiji, knowing no one, chose an empty spot near the back. From there, he could observe without drawing attention.
A young man with a scar across his face entered the room, calming the excited chatter with a raised hand.
“Welcome, prospective students. I’m Masashi Ryuko, and I’ll be overseeing your entrance examinations today.” His voice was firm but kind. “The exam has three parts: written knowledge, physical assessment, and basic chakra control. We’ll begin with the written portion.”
Assistants distributed papers throughout the room. When Reiji received him, he stared at the unfamiliar script. To his surprise, though the characters looked like Japanese, he could read them perfectly—another strange effect of his situation.
The questions were basic:
- Name the Five Great Shinobi Nations
- What are the three basic ninja tools?
- Explain the Will of Fire
- Draw the hand signs for a basic transformation technique
Reiji’s stomach sank. He knew none of this. Not a single answer.
Think. What would a six-year-old in this world know? What would Nanako have taught me?
He closed his eyes, hoping for another flash of intuition like the memories he’d experienced earlier. Nothing came. Opening his eyes, he glanced furtively at his neighbors’ papers, but they were too far to see clearly.
Then, unexpectedly, the system chimed, followed by the same emotionless monotonous voice.
[Racial Ability: Chess Grandmaster activated]
Effect: Enhanced analytical thinking and pattern recognition
A warmth spread through his mind, and suddenly, the test questions took on a different quality. He couldn’t access knowledge he didn’t have, but he could think more clearly about what he’d observed since arriving.
The spiral leaf symbol—probably Konoha, the Village Hidden in the Leaves. He’d seen people wearing headbands with various symbols. Nations, perhaps? He made an educated guess: Fire (Konoha), Water, Earth, and Wind—the fundamental elements that came to mind, reminding him of the four nations from Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Fifth? What could it be?
Lightning, perhaps? It made sense—if the world he was in followed a similar structure, then there had to be a fifth element to balance things out. Lightning wasn’t as traditional or as widely known, but it could be the element that was less immediately visible, more like a hidden force, perhaps linked to a powerful, secretive nation. He mulled it over for a moment. That would fit.
He remembered seeing pouches strapped to the legs of invigilators—preferably ninjas. What could they carry in those? Likely small weapons.
He recalled Jason storing shuriken and scrolls in their dorm, so those were the obvious choices. But then his mind hit a snag. What else would a ninja carry? It wasn’t like they were constantly running around throwing knives.
He needed to think practically—what would be useful in a fight or for stealth? Then it clicked: A Japanese blade, versatile and essential for various tasks. But there was one tool he hadn't considered: Kunai. The blades weren’t just for throwing, they had multiple purposes—climbing, cutting, and even close-quarters combat.
He realized that a well-equipped ninja wouldn’t focus solely on offense; they needed tools for versatility and survival in all types of environments—whether scaling walls or defending themselves in tight spaces. Kunai, with its multi-functional design, fit that perfectly.
He scribbled down: Kunai, Shuriken, and Scroll—basic utility items, sure, but perhaps there were more. Seals or powders, maybe—things that could trigger traps or enhance abilities.
It was all a guess, of course, but it seemed like a reasonable set of tools to start with, based on what he’d seen.
He’d seen some ninjas using some techniques that didn’t rely on physical force alone. Could they be carrying tools for those, too? He shrugged. Hah…Whatever.
- Explain the Will of Fire
The Will of Fire... It felt like more than just a simple phrase—it was an ideology. A guiding principle. The words conveyed a sense of purpose, a deep-rooted belief system that shaped actions and decisions. He paused for a moment, reflecting on its significance.
He wrote: “The Will of Fire represents the philosophy of Konoha—a belief in the protection of the village and its future, driven by the bonds of a family. It’s a commitment to safeguarding those who can’t protect themselves, ensuring the survival and prosperity of the village for generations to come.”
When it came to the hand signs, he had no clue. He’d only ever caught brief glimpses of them—mostly from when Jason would watch Naruto on the TV in the dorm. In those moments, ninja characters on the screen would perform quick, intricate gestures, their fingers moving in fluid, practiced patterns. But the signs were too fast, too fleeting for him to catch the details.
With no real knowledge of what they looked like, he hesitated, staring at the blank page. What did the hand signs even mean? Were they a series of simple gestures or something more complex? He had no way of knowing.
Still, he tried to piece together what he could remember from those moments watching Jason’s shows. He imagined fingers intertwining in various ways—some pressed together, others apart. He started drawing, sketching out rough shapes that felt like they could be close, even though he knew they weren’t. His pencil moved clumsily across the paper, his sketches a jumble of awkward lines and mismatched angles.
By the time Ryuko-sensei’s voice broke through, calling for papers, Reiji had filled in every blank, though the doubt gnawed at him. How accurate could any of it be? He glanced at his page one last time, but even in his rush, he couldn’t shake the feeling that none of it was really right.
“Now for the physical assessment,” Ryuko-sensei announced, his voice firm but not unkind. He led them outside, footsteps echoing in the quiet classroom as the others followed.
As Reiji stepped into the open, the cool air hit his face, fresh and sharp against his skin. The contrast to the stuffy classroom was immediate, and he drew in a deep breath, savoring the freedom of the wide, open space. The sound of distant birds and rustling leaves filled the silence, a calming backdrop to the flutter of nervousness in his chest. It wasn’t like he hadn’t trained for this, but something about performing in front of Ryuko-sensei and the others made his stomach tighten.
The physical test was straightforward—running, jumping, and basic coordination exercises. To Reiji’s surprise, his small frame performed better than expected.
He wasn’t the fastest or strongest, but his [Prowess: Below Average] didn’t hold him back as much as he thought. He struggled with a few moves but managed to keep up and finish without major issues. While he wasn’t a standout, his consistent effort might’ve earned a few approving nods.
When the physical portion finally came to an end, Ryuko-sensei gathered the group into a circle, his eyes scanning each of them. Reiji took a breath, still catching his wind, but there was a sense of quiet pride in the fact that he hadn’t faltered entirely. Not bad for someone with a “below average” label.
“The final and most important test—chakra control,” Ryuko announced, his voice steady, cutting through the quiet air. “Each of you will attempt to channel chakra into your hands. We don’t expect mastery, just a demonstration that you can access it.”
Reiji’s brief surge of confidence evaporated in an instant. This was it—the test he had no idea how to pass.
Ryuko retrieved a sleek black rod from his pouch, holding it up so that all the children could see. Its dark surface gleamed in the light. “This rod absorbs and reacts to chakra. If you can send enough chakra into it, you’ll feel it vibrate or hum. It’s a simple test to determine if you can access your chakra.”
The rod looked simple enough, but to Reiji, it might as well have been a foreign artifact. His heartbeat raced as Ryuko called the first child forward.
One by one, the children stepped up, and Reiji watched closely, studying their every move. Most of them closed their eyes, focusing deeply, their hands moving in practiced, precise gestures to form hand seals. These were the same seals he’d tried to sketch earlier, though theirs were fluid and flawless—far more intricate than anything he had managed. Moments later, the rods in their hands began to hum or vibrate, some faintly, others with impressive strength.
The clan heirs performed with ease. Their movements were smooth, and confident, their rods humming in approval. The parents on the sidelines beamed with pride, their eyes gleaming as they watched their children’s success.
Others, though, struggled. Some held the rod tightly, staring at it in concentration, but it remained still. No hum, no vibration. A few looked frustrated, others embarrassed.
And then, it was his turn.
“Reiji,” Ryuko called, his voice pulling him from his thoughts.
With heavy steps, Reiji moved forward. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, and his heart thudded in his chest. The other children watched with mild curiosity—some with pity, others with indifference. An orphan with no name, no legacy. Hardly worth their attention.
He tried to steady his breathing, but the unease swirled inside him, making it harder to focus. How do I do this? What is chakra even supposed to feel like?
He recalled the warm sensation he’d felt when the system announced his “Chatora Awakening”—that pulse of energy in his core. Was that chakra? Yes, it had been something powerful, something alive. But, how do you call it now?
Ryuko handed him the rod, its sleek, polished surface cool against his palm. The weight of it surprised him—he’d expected it to be lighter. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers tightening around it before setting it gently on the nearby table. He glanced at the other children, each of them standing with perfect posture, their faces determined. They were ready, and he—he was fumbling.
Swallowing his nerves, Reiji mimicked the posture he had observed: palms pressed together, eyes closing. He willed himself to focus, to push everything else from his mind. The world fell away, leaving only the task before him. He reached inward, searching for that faint spark of warmth, that pulse of energy.
But nothing happened.
His forehead beaded with sweat as he concentrated harder. His palms grew clammy against each other. Around him, the sounds of impatience began to fill the air. He could hear a few muffled snickers, a subtle shift in the atmosphere.
Come on. I need this.
The pressure mounted, suffocating him, threatening to tear his focus apart. Just as panic began to tighten its grip, the system chimed softly in his mind.
[Tutorial: Chakra Control]
Chakra is formed by combining physical and spiritual energy.
Visualize drawing energy from your core and directing it to your hands.
The voice and the words broke through the haze of his panic, offering a flicker of hope. Reiji took a shaky breath, closing his eyes once more. He imagined drawing the energy from deep within his core, a gentle current of power pooling there, waiting to be directed. He pictured that current flowing up his arms, traveling through his shoulders, down his forearms, and into his fingertips.
He held onto that visualization, willing it to move, to come alive.
And then, a shift.
The warmth returned, faint but undeniable. It trickled through him, a delicate current that responded to his focus. He clung to it, pulling it toward his palms, guiding it with all his concentration. The sensation strengthened as he willed it into the rod, grabbing the rod hastily.
And then—hum.
A sharp vibration ran through his fingers.
His eyes blinked rapidly just as a collective gasp rippled through the group. The rod vibrated steadily in his grasp, and a faint, pale blue glow flickered around his hands. It wasn’t strong—barely a whisper of light, unstable and trembling—but unmistakable.
Ryuko studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Reiji’s heart raced, waiting for judgment. Finally, Ryuko gave a small nod, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Not strong, but clear control. Well done, Reiji.”
A wave of relief flooded over him, the tension in his body dissolving like mist as he stepped back into the circle, ignoring the surprised looks from some of the children. He’d passed.
The examination concluded with Ryuko addressing the group. “Results will be posted the next morning. Those who pass will begin Academy training next week.”
As the children dispersed, Reiji found a quiet spot beneath a large, old tree at the edge of the academy field, where the soft rustle of leaves above offered a fleeting sense of peace. He sat cross-legged, pulling his bento from his pack, the simple wooden box warm against his fingers. The rice balls and pickled vegetables, far from the complex dishes he used to eat in his previous life, tasted better than anything he could remember. Whether it was the simplicity or the result of the day’s stress, he wasn’t sure, but it felt like a small comfort in this world of uncertainties.
As he chewed, his mind buzzed with the events of the day, still raw and fresh in his memory. His hands still tingled slightly from the chakra test, the sensation lingering like a phantom pulse. He hadn’t expected to succeed, yet somehow, he'd managed to accomplish something, even if it was just a faint hum of chakra. A tiny victory in a world where victory often meant survival.
With a deep breath, he focused on pulling up the system interface, hoping to make sense of what had happened and where he stood now.
[Personal Information]
[Quest System]
[Chatora]
[Attributes]
[Interface]
[Inventory]
[Map]
[Natural Affinity]
[OUTWORLDER]
His eyes flicked to the “Chatora” section, which now displayed a new update:
[Chatora (0/4)]
Energy in all beings
5% Chatora [No Attribute] (0.25/5)
0% Chatora [No Attribute] (0/5)
0% Chatora [No Attribute] (0/5)
0% Chatora [No Attribute] (0/5)
Basic Chakra Control: Unlocked
Progress. Small, but significant.
The interface felt distant and mechanical, but it was the only thing in this unfamiliar world that made sense to him. It was a touchstone, something to grasp when the overwhelming strangeness of his situation made everything else feel intangible. He closed the interface quickly, feeling a flash of both hope and dread.
Hope, because he’d unlocked something modern—a hint that perhaps he might return to his own world. Dread, because there was still so much he didn’t understand about how it worked or how he could use it.
Before he could continue his meal, a shadow fell across him.
“Hey.”
Reiji looked up, squinting against the light of the setting sun. Three older children stood over him, their postures casual but their presence commanding. The leader, a boy with dark, neatly combed hair and an expensive-looking outfit adorned with a clan symbol on his sleeve, stared down at him with an almost condescending air.
“That was a neat trick with the chakra,” the boy said, his voice dripping with a forced edge of mockery. “Especially for someone with no clan. Who taught you?” His eyes narrowed as if waiting for a confession.
“My guardian,” Reiji replied carefully, setting aside his half-eaten lunch. He had to be cautious—fighting or confrontation was never the answer, not when he was still so weak, both physically and in his knowledge of the world.
The boy scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “Don’t lie.” His gaze flicked over Reiji’s meager appearance, his eyes filled with a kind of superiority.
Reiji stood slowly, feeling the weight of their stares. He was smaller, younger, and likely had no clan-based training like they did. His physical body—he was still in the form of a six-year-old child—was his biggest disadvantage. Fighting back wasn’t an option.
“I’m not looking for trouble,” Reiji said, trying to keep his voice steady, his gaze unwavering.
The leader took a step closer, the smell of expensive cologne and the scent of freshly pressed fabric filling the air. He reached out, his fingers brushing toward Reiji as if expecting to intimidate him further.
And then, just as the tension in the air became unbearable, a voice cut through it like a knife.
“Is there a problem here?”
Ryuko-sensei stood a few paces away, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed sternly on the children. The bullies froze instantly, a moment of unease flashing across their faces. The leader quickly took a step back, turning toward his companions.
“No, sensei,” he muttered, throwing one last venomous look at Reiji before turning on his heel, and leading his cronies.
Reiji exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath until the weight of the moment started to lift.
Ryuko approached his gaze briefly flicking toward the retreating boys before focusing on Reiji. “Your chakra control was impressive, especially for someone with no clan training,” he said, his tone neutral and somehow helpful. “Who’s been teaching you?”
“I... practice a lot,” Reiji replied, a little too quickly. He hesitated, wondering if he should give more of an explanation. But the truth was, he didn’t know what to say.
Ryuko nodded thoughtfully. “Well, keep practicing. Natural talent only gets you so far in the shinobi world. It’s the dedication that makes a true ninja.”
With that, Ryuko turned and walked off, leaving Reiji to process the encounter. Reiji finished his lunch in solitude, mulling over the day’s events. He’d managed to get through the exam, but it had been close.
As the afternoon sun began to sink below the horizon, casting the village in a warm golden glow, Reiji made his way home, following the same winding path that Nanako had walked with him earlier. The village felt like something from a dream—its wooden structures and lush green spaces, the peaceful sounds of nature around him, and the flickering lanterns that illuminated the streets. It was far from the world he had known, but it was also strangely comforting.
I’m in a fictional universe from an anime I barely watched. I’m in the body of a child. And I’m trying to become a ninja.
The absurdity of his situation hit him at that moment, making him stop in his tracks for a second. He’d never been much of an anime fan—Jason, his old roommate, had tried countless times to get him interested, especially in Naruto. But Reiji had always been too caught up in his hectic life to care.
Jason had insisted, “You need to live a little. There are worlds beyond work and books, you know.”
If only he knew how right he’d been.
Reiji smiled a little, feeling a sense of both nostalgia and regret. Jason would have loved to be here right now. He would have eaten up every second of it. But that wasn’t his life anymore. This was his reality, and he had no choice but to adapt.
By the time he reached the door of the orphanage, Nanako was waiting for him, her face bright with anticipation. “How did it go? Did you do well?” she asked, her voice full of warmth.
Reiji couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Despite everything, despite the chaos and the uncertainty of his life here, Nanako’s presence made it easier. “I think I passed. We’ll know for sure tomorrow.”
Her eyes lit up with joy, and she ushered him inside. “I knew you would! I even made your favorite dinner to celebrate.”
They sat down to eat, surrounded by the twenty younger children, each one being fed by one of the many sisters who cared for them. The atmosphere was warm and filled with chatter. Nanako moved among them, making sure everyone was cared for, every child feeling special and loved. Each one of them called her “Mother,” a title she wore with effortless grace, never faltering in her duties, always giving of herself selflessly.
As they ate, Nanako regaled them with stories of the Academy and the legendary ninjas who had once walked its halls. Reiji listened intently, eager to understand more about this world he had been thrust into. Each story was like a piece of the puzzle he was trying to solve, a clue to help him navigate this unfamiliar terrain.
That night, lying on his futon in the darkness, Reiji opened his system interface one final time.
[Quest Update: Academy Entrance Examination]
Status: Awaiting Final Results
Current Evaluation: Pass
A small smile formed on his lips, but it was fleeting. Despite everything—his confusion, his lack of experience, and his sudden plunge into a world where he was a mere child—he had managed to adapt. Just barely. He’d passed the examination, and tomorrow, he would face new challenges: classes to attend, skills to learn, and apparently, bullies to contend with.
But for now, he had made it through the first day.
As sleep slowly crept in, one thought lingered in his mind: In a world filled with ninjas and extraordinary powers, what role would the system play in his growth? More importantly, would it ever help him find a way home?
With the soft chime of the system updating in his mind, Reiji drifted off to sleep, marking the end of his first day in the world of shinobi.