[5] – New Learning Experience as Child
[5] – New Learning Experience as Child
Reiji took a deep breath as he stood before the grand gates of the Konoha Ninja Academy. The wooden sign above bore bold, black kanji, and the air was alive with the excited chatter of young students hustling past him. Even after a week in this world, it still felt surreal. Just a week ago, he had been an exhausted university student, buried under assignments and stress. Today, however, he was a six-year-old orphan standing at the threshold of his new life as a shinobi.
His hand clenched into a fist at his side. There was no point in dwelling in the past—this was his reality now.
The academy grounds were a buzz of activity, students ranging from wide-eyed beginners like himself to more seasoned trainees practicing their kunai throws with precision in the yards. Instructors moved among them, their vests marking them as experienced shinobi who had survived the dangers of the profession. Despite the excitement around him, Reiji couldn’t help but feel small in comparison to some of the older kids. Their confident strides and focused expressions made him feel like an outsider, but he knew he’d have to adjust quickly.
A soft flicker in the corner of his vision drew his attention—the system window, ever-present, a reminder that mechanics governed his new existence beyond his understanding.
[Quest Alert: First Day Jitters]
Attend your first day at the Ninja Academy and establish your presence.
Objectives: Arrive at the academy on time ✓ , Meet your instructor _ , Complete the day’s lessons _.
Rewards: 50 XP, +1 Spirit, Increased reputation with Academy Instructors.
Failure: Decreased reputation with Academy Instructors.
Reiji read through the notification and let out a small sigh. This felt like a typical first day of school. The idea of earning a reputation with his instructors was new.
“Okay. Let’s do this,” he muttered under his breath, dismissing the notification with a practiced thought. As a former university student, he was no stranger to academic environments. But this... this was entirely different.
He adjusted his clothes and made his way through the gates, stepping into a ‘school’ where every moment felt like a test. His heart raced as he walked deeper into the academy, knowing that this was the beginning of something much bigger. It was his journey as a shinobi.
Children streamed past him, their excited chatter filling the morning air like birdsong. Some walked hand-in-hand with proud parents whose eyes shone with unmistakable pride. Others moved in boisterous groups, their laughter rising and falling in waves. All of them buzzed with the same electric anticipation about becoming ninjas—about taking their first steps toward legends.
Reiji stood alone, watching the familial displays with a carefully neutral expression that betrayed nothing of the hollowness inside him. He caught the sidelong glances from adults—those pitying looks reserved for the boy with no one to mark this milestone, no hand to hold, no shoulder to lean on. What they couldn’t see was the quiet determination burning behind his solemn face, the cold resolve to survive in a world where children were molded into weapons before they could fully understand what that meant.
The Academy building stood before him, modest compared to the grand Hokage Tower visible in the distance, yet it emanated an undeniable presence, a gravity all its own. Taking a deep breath that filled his lungs with the crisp morning air, Reiji adjusted the collar of his simple orphanage-issued clothes and stepped through the entrance, joining the flow of future ninjas.
The hallways hummed with anticipation as students navigated toward their assigned classrooms like streams finding their way to the sea. Reiji glanced at the slip of paper Nanako had given him four days prior, as she’d wished him luck, once again.
“Room 3-B... Tsubaki Tsoruro,” he muttered, scanning the nameplates as he walked, his footsteps nearly silent against the polished wooden floors. As he moved through the corridor, something flickered at the edge of his vision—a translucent new notification hovering like morning mist:
[System Alert: Sensory Training Opportunity]
By consciously observing your surroundings, you can train your sensory abilities.
Reiji paused mid-step, considering this information with narrow eyes. His Chakra control efficiency registered at a mere 6% and 5%— he wondered if it was hardly enough to perceive anything meaningful beyond basic awareness. Still, he decided to try. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his surroundings, pushing past the auditory distractions of shuffling feet and excited voices.
He strained to listen, to feel, to perceive something beyond the noise. But after a moment of silence, disappointment crept in. He sensed nothing, just emptiness.
With his first failure, he entered the classroom, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss.
The classroom was arranged in neat rows of wooden desks facing a large chalkboard that dominated the front wall. Charts detailing basic Chakra theory adorned the walls in vibrant colors. Through the tall windows, the Hokage Rock stood sentinel over the village—the faces of four great leaders carved into the mountainside, their stone eyes watching over their legacy with eternal vigilance.
Reiji chose a desk near the back, a position that would allow him to mind his own business without drawing unwanted attention. The room’s social hierarchies were already forming, visible to his careful eye; connecting some while isolating others. Some students huddled together, exchanging nervous whispers behind cupped hands, while others sat alone, projecting carefully constructed confidence or studied disinterest.
The class composition revealed itself—some came from powerful clans, their clothing bearing distinctive symbols worn with casual pride, their posture radiating quiet assurance born of lineage and pre-academy training. Others were clearly civilians, their expressions a mixture of eager determination and apprehension, resolved to prove themselves in a world dominated by clan-born prodigies with inherited advantages.
A few minutes passed, and Reiji found himself seated between two contrasting personalities. To his right sat a quiet boy with thick glasses that caught the light, already transcribing notes with meticulous precision, his shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear into the wood of his desk. On his left was a girl with short brown hair cut in a practical style that framed determined eyes, her posture relaxed yet alert, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
The low murmur of conversation died instantly when the instructor entered. A tall, imposing man with broad shoulders and a scarred forearm, Tsubaki-sensei strode to the front with the deliberate movements. His sharp gaze swept across the room like a searchlight, assessing each student individually before he spoke, his presence filling the room without effort.
“Welcome to the Academy,” he said, his voice calm yet authoritative. “Some of you may believe this is just a school, a place to learn. You are mistaken.” He paused, letting his words settle over the silent classroom. “This is where shinobi are forged in fire and discipline. Some of you will thrive under pressure. Some will crack and fail. The weak will be weeded out without mercy and sentiment. Your time here will determine not just your future, but potentially the future of Konoha itself.”
His words hung in the air, weighty and absolute, a promise and a warning intertwined.
“Now, introductions,” he continued, his stance relaxing slightly. “I am Tsubaki Tsoruro, a Chūnin of Konohagakure. I served as a frontline combat specialist in the Third Shinobi World War, helping to secure peace for our village you now take for granted. I enjoy reading historical accounts, teaching promising students, and molding future shinobi into something greater than they believe possible.” His scarred fingers tapped once against the desk, punctuating his words.
One by one, the students stood to introduce themselves, their voices ranging from confident proclamations to nervous whispers. Most were from established clans—Hyūga with their distinctive pale eyes that seemed to see through rather than at you; Aburame with high collars hiding their insect colonies, their movements precise and economical; Inuzuka with their wild hair and facial markings, restless energy emanating from them like heat; Uchiha with their reserved demeanor and unmistakable pride that bordered on arrogance. The knowledge Reiji had gleaned from his time in the Library seemed useful but incomplete when faced with the living embodiments of these legendary bloodlines.
Each carried names weighted with expectations and legacies stretching back generations. Among them were civilians, too, their determined expressions betraying their desperate desire to carve out their place in this hierarchical world that wasn’t designed for them.
The girl sitting beside Reiji turned to him, a warm smile lighting up her face, turning her otherwise serious expression into something unexpectedly inviting.
“I’m Yuki,” she whispered, keeping her voice low enough to avoid Tsubaki-sensei’s attention while leaning slightly closer.
Reiji blinked, caught off guard by her sudden smile and her introduction. “Uh—I’m Reiji. Nice to meet you—”
“That entrance exam was brutal, wasn’t it?” she interrupted, her voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. “I thought my legs were going to give out during the endurance test. How did you pass? You must have some trick up your sleeve.”
Reiji paused, taken aback by the question. His gaze flickered to his hands, his mind momentarily blank as he tried to figure out how to respond. He hesitated, then offered a shrug, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I... guessed on a lot of it?” he admitted, his tone light. “And I’ve always been good at running. Had a lot of practice.”
A derisive snort came from behind him, cutting through his words. “Guessing doesn’t make you a ninja. It makes you lucky—and luck runs out fast when kunai start flying.” The voice was confident, bordering on cocky.
Reiji turned to see a boy with sharp, predatory eyes and distinctive red facial markings that curved along his cheekbones—an Inuzuka clan member, he thought with certainty. There was an unmistakable confidence in his stance, the kind that came from generations of ninja breeding and the absolute knowledge of one’s place in the world.
“My family’s been ninja for seven generations,” the boy continued, scrutinizing Reiji with unconcealed interest. “What about yours, new kid?”
It was a deliberate move—a test to establish hierarchy on the first day, to sort out the strong from the weak, the connected from the isolated.
“I’m an orphan,” Reiji said simply, his voice steady and unembellished, meeting the Inuzuka’s gaze without flinching. “My family is Konoha—the Village Hidden in the Leaves.” He cringed internally at the cliché, but he knew it would resonate with the village’s communal values—a shield of patriotism against the blade of clan superiority.
The answer seemed to catch the Inuzuka off guard—it wasn’t defensive, or apologetic as expected, nor was it challenging or hostile. Before he could formulate a response worthy of his clan’s reputation, Tsubaki-sensei called the class to attention with a sharp rap on his desk that echoed throughout the room.
When it was Reiji’s turn for introduction, he rose calmly, aware of the curious glances.
“My name is Reiji,” he said, bowing slightly—formal but not subservient. “I look forward to learning alongside all of you and serving Konoha with whatever skills I develop here.”
[Analyzing classroom dynamics...]
Front row: Primarily eager students with above-average Chakra control
Middle rows: Mixed abilities, social groupings evident
Back rows: Less engaged students, though some appear to be deliberately hiding their abilities
Notable Chakra signatures: 4 identified
This analysis was new—more detailed than before, offering insights he hadn’t consciously registered. Reiji made a mental note to explore this capability further when he was alone and could concentrate fully.
“Now then,” Tsubaki-sensei announced after the introduction of all the 33 students, his voice cutting through the remaining whispers, “Let’s begin with the fundamentals of what will define your lives from this moment forward.” He wrote two kanji on the board with deliberate strokes that seemed to glow with purpose:
チャクラ (Chakra).
“Who can tell me what Chakra is composed of?” he asked, scanning the room. Several hands shot up—including Yuki’s beside Reiji, her eagerness practically radiating from her.
Her hand remained enthusiastically raised beside him, her determination to be recognized evident in the slight leaning forward of her body. Reiji took a moment to observe her more carefully—intelligence clear in her quick eyes that missed nothing, determination evident in her posture that never slumped even after minutes with her arm raised. Unlike many of the clan children, she didn’t carry herself with entitlement but rather with focused purpose and something that looked like genuine joy at being here.
“Yes, go ahead,” Tsubaki-sensei said, acknowledging Yuki with a nod that carried a hint of expectation.
Yuki stood confidently, her chair scraping against the floor as she rose. Her voice rang clear and articulate through the classroom. “Chakra is the fundamental energy of all shinobi, formed by combining physical energy derived from the body’s cells with spiritual energy accumulated through experience and training. When these two energies are molded together through proper technique, they form Chakra, which flows through our Chakra pathways like blood through veins, allowing us to perform Jutsu. The balance between physical and spiritual energy determines the nature and effectiveness of the techniques we can perform.”
Tsubaki-sensei’s expression remained neutral, but a flicker of approval crossed his eyes—there and gone in an instant, but unmistakable to Reiji’s careful observation. “Correct and well-articulated, Yuki. Chakra is indeed the lifeblood of all ninjas. Without it, no Jutsu would be possible—from the simplest transformation technique to the most devastating battle ninjutsu. It is the foundation of everything we do as shinobi, the power that separates us from civilians.”
He paced slowly before the class. His footsteps measured and deliberate, each one placing him directly in front of a different student as if making individual connections. “Chakra control, however, is what separates the novices from the masters, the cannon fodder from the elite.” His gaze hardened momentarily, shadows passing behind his eyes—perhaps remembering fallen comrades who hadn’t mastered this crucial skill. “Your Chakra is both your greatest tool and your greatest challenge. The better you control it, the more efficiently you can utilize your natural reserves, and the more power you’ll have at your disposal with less waste. A ninja with perfect Chakra control and modest reserves can defeat an opponent with vast reserves but poor control—remember that before you start comparing yourselves to each other.”
Reiji nodded slightly, absorbing the information with intense focus. He had already researched Chakra and its basic theory in the Academy library during the week before classes began, studying daily for hours and hours and poring over basic texts, but hearing it from a war veteran, one who had seen these principles applied in life-or-death situations, carried a different weight entirely—theory transformed into visceral reality.
As the lesson progressed, Reiji’s system provided occasional insights that appeared in his field of vision like floating lanterns:
[Intelligence check passed]
Your understanding of energy systems from Earth allows for accelerated comprehension of the theory
+5 XP gained
[Observation: Student named Yuki shows high efficiency for Chatora control]
[Observation: Inuzuka Kegawa possesses above-average physical attributes but struggles with theoretical concepts]
Reiji absorbed these notifications while maintaining an outward appearance of normal attentiveness. The system’s observations aligned with his own but provided quantifiable metrics he wouldn’t have access to otherwise—an advantage he intended to leverage fully.
Tsubaki-sensei paused dramatically, then turned to the board and wrote in large, bold kanji that seemed to vibrate with importance:
チャクラ制御 (Chakra Control)
“You will spend countless hours working on your Chakra control during your time at the Academy,” he continued, his voice taking on a stern edge that brooked no argument. “It is not something you can rush or force, no matter how gifted you might be. Some of you may struggle for months, feeling like you’re making no progress. Others may grasp it quickly due to natural aptitude or prior training. But remember—this is not just about raw power. It’s about finesse. Precision. And fundamentally understanding the connection between your body, mind, and the energy that flows through both like rivers joining the sea.”
The lesson continued as Tsubaki guided them through several basic Chakra exercises with hands-on demonstrations: the leaf concentration practice, where students attempted to stick a leaf to their foreheads using only Chakra; meditation techniques to sense their Chakra flow; and specialized breathing patterns to help focus their energy in preparation for more advanced techniques.
While most students followed the physical demonstrations with varying degrees of success—leaves falling, sticking momentarily, then fluttering away, or in rare cases, remaining firmly attached—Reiji found himself more interested in the underlying principles beyond the surface mechanics. He observed the way Chakra responded to intent like water flowing around obstacles, the relationship between emotional state and Chakra efficiency that seemed almost mathematical in its consistency, and the subtle interplay between physical and spiritual energies that reminded him of concepts from his past life.
It wasn’t just about making a leaf stick—it was about understanding the energy within himself. And more importantly understand if the Chakra the shinobi world defines and Chatora his tab spoke of were truly one and the same, or if they were fundamentally different.
As the first session neared its end, Tsubaki-sensei addressed the class once more, his expression stern yet not unkind. “For tomorrow, I expect each of you to practice the leaf exercise for at least thirty minutes. This isn’t negotiable. Remember that mastery of Chakra is not achieved overnight or through shortcuts or clan techniques passed down in whispers. It requires patience, discipline, and consistent effort—qualities that distinguish true shinobi from pretenders and washouts.” His gaze swept across the room one final time. “Dismissed.”
The bell rang, its clear tone signaling the end of the class. As students began gathering their materials with a rustle of paper and scraping of chairs, Yuki turned to Reiji with an encouraging smile that seemed genuine rather than performative.
“So, did you follow all that? The Chakra theory can be pretty dense at first.”
Reiji nodded, offering a small smile in return that felt unfamiliar on his usually solemn face. “I think so. The basics seem straightforward enough in theory, but...” he trailed off, glancing briefly at his system window with its damning numbers. His Chakra control might still be dismally low compared to many of his classmates who had been molding Chakra since they could walk.
Yuki noticed his hesitation and nudged him gently with her elbow, the brief contact surprising him. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Everyone starts somewhere, right? Even the Fourth Hokage was a beginner once. I struggled with Chakra control for months before joining the Academy—used to spend hours trying to make leaves stick to my nose instead of my forehead because I thought it was more challenging.” She laughed at the memory. “If you want, we could practice together sometime. Two minds are better than one.”
Reiji raised an eyebrow, a genuine surprise breaking through his composed face. “You’d help me? Why?” The question came out more bluntly than he intended, suspicion an old habit hard to break.
“Because that’s what comrades do,” Yuki replied without hesitation, the word ‘comrades’ seemed to carry weight beyond its syllables. “Besides, teaching someone else is one of the best ways to reinforce your own understanding. My dad always says that the strongest shinobi aren’t those who train alone on mountaintops, but those who learn from and with others. Iron sharpens iron, you know?”
Before Reiji could respond to this unexpected philosophy, a shadow fell across their desks like an eclipse. Looking up, he found himself facing Kegawa, the Inuzuka boy who had questioned him earlier. He stood with hands casually tucked into his pockets. Still, his posture radiated anything but casualness—every muscle coiled with the same alertness as the Ninken (pet-dog) his clan was famous for partnering with.
“You two planning on becoming best friends already?” Kegawa remarked, his tone deliberately light yet edged with something sharper that gleamed like a hidden blade. “You know, Yuki, you shouldn’t just hand out favors like festival candy. Not everyone here is worth your time... or deserves your help.” His eyes flicked to Reiji, assessing and dismissive in the same glance.
[Social interaction detected: Dominance challenge]
[Possible responses: Confrontational, Diplomatic, Evasive]
Reiji ignored the system prompt hovering at the edge of his vision, maintaining steady eye contact with Kegawa without blinking. He recognized this for what it was—not personal animosity but a natural extension of the clan hierarchy system, where strength and connections determined one’s place in the social order. It wasn’t malice; it was instinct as ingrained as his feral features.
Yuki, however, seemed unimpressed by the posturing. “It’s not about favors, Kegawa. It’s about working together—something you should understand better than most, considering how closely you work with your ninken partner. Or does that partnership only matter when it’s within your clan?” Her tone was matter-of-fact, her expression carefully neutral despite the implied criticism that hung in the air between them.
Kegawa’s eyes narrowed briefly, and Reiji detected a subtle shift in his features—a flicker of irritation quickly suppressed like a candle flame in the wind.
Then, unexpectedly, Kegawa’s lips curved into a sharp smile that revealed slightly elongated canines. “Fair point, Yuki. Sharp as always with those words of yours. Though I’d argue that choosing the right partner is just as important as having one.” His gaze shifted to Reiji, assessing rather than dismissive now, seeing him properly, perhaps for the first time. “Prove yourself worth her time, orphan boy. Show you’ve got something under that quiet act. I’ll be watching.”
With that, he turned and walked away with predatory grace, joining a group of other students by the door who welcomed him with easy familiarity.
Reiji and Yuki exchanged a meaningful glance. “Is he always like that?” Reiji asked quietly, gathering his sparse materials.
Yuki sighed, her fingers deftly organizing her notes into a precise stack. “Kegawa’s not actually a bad person beneath all that Inuzuka swagger. The clan kids just have a different perspective—they’ve been trained since they could walk, raised with expectations and traditions we can hardly imagine. It makes them... competitive in ways that sometimes come across as arrogance.” She shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling like waves. “Some hide it better than others. But when trouble comes, he’ll be the first one standing between it and his packmates—and that includes classmates if you earn his respect.”
Reiji nodded, absorbing this insight with careful consideration. In this world where bloodlines and heritage carried such weight, forming genuine connections would be complicated by layers of clan politics and ingrained hierarchies invisible to the untrained eye. Yet Yuki had offered friendship freely despite these invisible boundaries that divided their world into neat categories of belonging.
“Thank you, Yuki,” he said simply. “I think there’s a lot I could learn from you—and not just about Chakra control.”
Yuki’s smile brightened at his words, transforming her face once more. “That’s what friends are for, right? Let’s meet by the practice field tomorrow after class. The big oak tree has great shade for meditation, and fewer people watching to make you self-conscious about dropping your leaf a hundred times.” She winked conspiratorially. “Trust me, we’ve all been there.”
As they left the classroom together, stepping back into the sunlight that streamed through the tall windows of the Academy hallway, Reiji felt something unfamiliar unfurling in his chest. This tentative hope warmed him from within. In a world where children became soldiers and power often determined worth, perhaps there was still room for genuine connection beyond the calculations of advantage. He’d survived alone this far, kept himself apart by necessity and habit, but maybe, just maybe, he didn’t always have to carry the weight of his circumstance and knowledge alone.
The system notification that appeared as they walked into the sunlight seemed to agree, floating before him like a promise:
[New relationship formed: Yuki - Friendly Classmate]
Social Integration
[New Quest Available: Training Partners]