BANG! BANG! BANG!
The pounding on the door jolted Mizuki awake, his dream dissolving into fragments of color and sound.
"Ugh…" he groaned, voice muffled under his blanket. "What time is it? Who the hell is banging on my door like that?"
He blinked blearily toward the window. The morning light was already spilling through the curtains. Panic started to set in.
"Mizuki!" a familiar voice shouted from outside. "Come on! We're gonna be late!"
"Iruka?" Mizuki shot up, instantly alert. "Oh crap—not again!"
He jumped out of bed, hair sticking in every direction, and threw on his uniform in a frenzy. He nearly tripped over his sandals before darting out the door, yelling, "I'll be out in five!"
By the time he caught up with Iruka, they were sprinting down the streets of Konoha, weaving between villagers and market stalls. The air was filled with the aroma of fresh bread and sizzling yakitori, but there was no time to admire the scenery.
"You're always late, Mizuki!" Iruka complained between gasps.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Mizuki panted. "Alarm clocks weren't exactly a thing back in… uh, never mind."
They skidded into the academy courtyard just as the bell rang. Mizuki slumped against the classroom doorframe, chest heaving. He had barely made it.
Iruka dropped into his seat beside him, still grinning. "I thought you were gonna be late again."
Mizuki smirked weakly. "Yeah… I barely made it. Talk about close."
As he caught his breath, his gaze swept across the classroom. He immediately noticed something: most of the confident, sharp-eyed kids—the ones clearly from shinobi clans—weren't there. No Hyuga heirs, no Uchiha prodigies, no Aburame kids with shades.
Guess I landed in the basic class, he thought grimly. Figures. Even in a new life, I can't get a head start.
The door slid open, and the chatter died instantly. Their instructor stepped in—a tall man with the pale eyes of the Hyuga clan, his expression calm yet unreadable.
"Good morning, class," the man said in a measured tone. "I am Hyuga Ko, your instructor for the next few weeks. Today, we begin with an introduction to Genjutsu."
Genjutsu, huh? Mizuki leaned back in his chair, trying to appear attentive while his thoughts drifted. The idea was fascinating, but he already knew the basics from years of watching the anime.
Still, hearing it from a real shinobi hit differently.
Ko continued, "Genjutsu targets the opponent's chakra flow within the brain, distorting their senses. In battle, it's used to mislead, paralyze, or create openings for attacks. A skilled shinobi can use it to win without ever drawing a weapon."
Mizuki listened absently. His mind was already forming a plan.
If I want to get ahead, I can't rely on the academy's pace. I need better chakra control—tree climbing, water walking, the works. But first, I need to find my elemental affinity. Chakra paper… I'll have to buy some after class.
The lecture dragged on. Even in a world of ninja and chakra, school was still school—long, repetitive, and exhausting.
After nearly two hours, Hyuga Ko finally glanced at the wall clock. "That concludes our theory session. Meet me in the courtyard in five minutes for taijutsu training."
Before anyone could respond, he vanished in a blur of motion.
Iruka's jaw dropped. "He just disappeared! Mizuki, did you see that?!"
"Yeah," Mizuki said with a small grin. "That was the Body Flicker Technique. Pretty basic once you master it."
Iruka turned to him with wide eyes. "Basic? That was awesome! You think we'll ever learn that?"
"Maybe," Mizuki said casually, though his mind was already turning. If I could learn that early, I'd have a massive edge.
The training yard was vast—lined with wooden dummies, target boards, and sparring circles. Mizuki felt a thrill stir inside him. This was the kind of place he'd only dreamed about.
"Line up!" Hyuga Ko's voice carried over the field. "We start with conditioning. No ninjutsu, no fancy tricks. Just your bodies."
For the next hour, they ran laps until their legs burned. Pushups, sit-ups, squats, and stretches followed. The sound of panting filled the air. By the time Ko finally called for a break, half the class was sprawled across the ground.
Mizuki lay back, staring at the sky. "This… is brutal."
Iruka, sweating beside him, managed a weak chuckle. "You think… this is bad? Wait until we start kunai practice…"
Despite the exhaustion, Mizuki couldn't help feeling alive. This pain had purpose. It wasn't the dull ache of sitting behind a desk—it was progress, physical proof that he could change.
When the final whistle blew, Ko gathered them together.
"Today's taijutsu lesson was only the beginning. Discipline and form are everything. Dismissed."
Mizuki wiped his brow and stepped forward. "Excuse me, sensei."
Ko turned. "Yes?"
"Could you teach me the Body Flicker Technique?"
A faint smile tugged at Ko's lips. "Eager, aren't you? The Body Flicker requires precise chakra control. You won't be learning it here anytime soon. Master the fundamentals first."
"I understand," Mizuki said, bowing slightly. "Thank you for your time."
Ko nodded approvingly. "Ambition is good, but control your impatience. It's the mark of a true shinobi."
By the time Mizuki and Iruka reached the cafeteria, the smell of grilled fish and rice made their stomachs growl. Mizuki grabbed a tray—plain rice with a few slices of beef—and sat down with a weary sigh.
Iruka plopped down beside him. "Man, I can't feel my arms."
"Yeah," Mizuki muttered between bites, "my everything hurts."
Despite the fatigue, he found himself smiling. The food wasn't great, but it was warm, and for once, he wasn't alone.
Still, he couldn't shake the nagging thought that the academy's lessons were too slow.
If I keep following their pace, I'll never catch up to the real prodigies.
He poked at his rice, lost in thought.
Iruka nudged him. "You're spacing out again."
"Huh? Oh, yeah… just thinking about training."
Iruka grinned. "You're weird, Mizuki. Everyone else can't wait to go home and nap."
"Guess I'm different," Mizuki replied, chuckling.
After lunch came ninjutsu class. Unfortunately, it wasn't as exciting as he'd hoped.
The instructor—a middle-aged man with tired eyes—spent the entire session reviewing hand seals. For most of the kids, it was tedious. But for Mizuki, it was invaluable.
Under his desk, he subtly practiced the sequences, forming seals with minimal motion. Rat, Ox, Tiger, Hare, Dragon… He cycled through them again and again, his fingers starting to remember the flow.
He could almost feel the chakra stirring faintly in his coils.
My chakra feels decent—slightly above average. Not great, but workable. I'll stay low-profile for now. No need to stand out yet. If I play this right, I can move up without attracting attention.
When the final bell rang, Mizuki was the first one out the door.
The sun was dipping low by the time he reached the market district. He found a small stall selling ninja supplies—kunai, shuriken, wire, even low-quality scrolls. The vendor, an elderly man with one eye, peered at him curiously.
"Kid, you sure you can afford this stuff?" the man asked.
Mizuki nodded. "I've got enough."
He bought a set of basic weapons, a short sword, and most importantly—a few sheets of chakra paper. The money drained most of his savings, but it was worth it.
As he walked home with the bag slung over his shoulder, he couldn't help but smile.This is it. My first real step.
Back at his apartment, Mizuki locked the door and sat cross-legged on the floor. The chakra paper rested in his hands. His heart beat faster with anticipation.
"Alright," he murmured. "Moment of truth."
He channeled chakra into the sheet.
For a split second, nothing happened. Then—the paper reacted. The left half crumbled into dust, and the right half burst into flame before vanishing.
Mizuki stared at the ashes. "Earth and Fire… huh?"
He frowned. "Tch. Not exactly the best combo."
Earth was defensive. Fire was destructive. They didn't complement each other easily. Still, both were strong elements if mastered properly.
Earth for stability. Fire for offense. I can make this work.
He spent the next hour going through the basic hand seals again, committing them to muscle memory.
"Rat, Ox, Tiger, Hare…" he muttered, his fingers flicking through the motions. His chakra control was still clumsy, but repetition was key.
The air grew heavy with focus. Sweat rolled down his temple, but he didn't stop. The rhythmic motion of his fingers became almost meditative.
When he finally collapsed onto the floor, his hands cramped and sore, the stars were already visible through the window.
He sat up, gazing out at the Hokage Monument glowing faintly in the distance.
"Minato's not Hokage yet," he whispered, remembering the timeline. "So… this must be during the Third's reign."
That meant he had roughly fifteen to twenty years before Naruto's generation. Plenty of time to build his strength—and to change Mizuki's fate.
The original Mizuki was weak. Bitter. Obsessed with power because he never felt acknowledged.Eric understood that feeling all too well. Back in his old world, he had been invisible too—overlooked, overworked, and easily discarded.
But now, he had a chance to rewrite the ending.
"I'll become strong enough that no one can toss me aside again," he vowed quietly. "Strong enough to matter."
Days turned into weeks.
Mizuki kept to a routine—attend classes, study quietly, and train in secret. After school, he practiced chakra control by focusing his energy into a single leaf, making it stick to his forehead without fluttering away. It took him days just to maintain it for ten seconds, but he persisted.
Iruka often dropped by, sometimes dragging him into casual games or conversations. Mizuki appreciated the company but kept his deeper ambitions hidden.
One afternoon, Iruka found him standing on one foot in the courtyard, a leaf glued to his forehead.
"Mizuki," Iruka said, tilting his head, "what are you doing?"
"Uh… balance training," Mizuki replied smoothly.
Iruka blinked, then shrugged. "Weird. But cool, I guess."
As soon as Iruka left, Mizuki exhaled in relief. That was close.
The leaf fluttered off his forehead and fell. He caught it, smirking. "Ten seconds, huh? Not bad for a start."
By the end of the second week, Mizuki's chakra control had noticeably improved. His shuriken throws were sharper, his endurance better, and his awareness during spars sharper.
He didn't stand out much—just enough for instructors to nod in approval but not enough to draw attention from the Hyuga or Uchiha kids.
That night, he sat on his rooftop, legs dangling over the edge, watching the stars.
The village lights twinkled below, the faint sound of laughter drifting up from distant taverns.
"Strange," he murmured. "In my old world, nights like this felt lonely. But here… it feels alive."
He closed his eyes, the cool wind brushing against his silver hair.
Maybe this isn't just about survival, he thought. Maybe this is my second chance to find meaning.
He could still see Iruka's carefree smile, Teuchi's kind eyes, the gleam of determination in the young students around him. Konoha wasn't perfect—but it was a place built on effort and bonds.
If he could grow here, maybe… he could belong.
As the moon climbed higher, he tightened his grip on the chakra paper remnants beside him.
"Earth and Fire," he whispered again. "Defense and power. Stability and destruction."
A grin spread across his face.
"That's not a weakness—it's balance."
He stood, stretching, his silhouette outlined against the silver glow.
"I won't stay in this basic class for long," he vowed quietly. "I'll climb higher—no shortcuts, no handouts. Just pure work."
He looked toward the Hokage Monument, the faces of the great leaders carved into stone.
"Someday, I'll stand among the elite—not as a villain, not as a side character, but as someone who earned it."