Daiken's gaze was sharp, almost piercing, as he stared down the classroom. He didn't speak. He didn't blink. Just stood there in absolute silence for a full five minutes like some kind of ancient statue powered by pure intimidation. I was baffled. What was this? A test of mental fortitude? A stare-down with destiny?
Some kids were visibly shaking. Others were holding their breath like their lives depended on it. I was half-convinced we were under a genjutsu until I screamed in my mind, "Just talk already, you damn rock!"
Then, as if this was a perfectly normal Tuesday at the Academy, he finally spoke.
"Since we began with physical training, which is one of the most critical foundations for a shinobi, we will now start working on basic ninja tools."
He didn't raise his voice, but the weight behind each word made the room go still.
"Each shinobi must learn to use these tools. I know some of you are already infatuated with the idea of ninjutsu, thinking flashy hand signs and elemental blasts are the only way to win. But listen carefully. In real combat, especially on the battlefield, ninjutsu isn't always your first option. It can harm your teammates, burn too much chakra, or fail entirely if you miscalculate."
His tone hardened.
"When you run out of chakra, these tools will be what stands between you and death. They interrupt hand seals, disarm opponents, and buy you time. Ignore them at your own peril."
He motioned for us to follow, and we were led outside to one of the larger training fields. There, a long wooden table had been set up with all the classic shinobi staples: kunai, shuriken, wire, smoke bombs, paper bombs, soldier pills. A shinobi starter pack.
Daiken stood at the head of the table like a war instructor addressing his troops.
"Listen up. Today's lesson is weapon familiarity. That means stop thinking of these as toys or cool accessories. These are tools of survival. They'll save your life, or get you killed, depending on how you use them."
He picked up a kunai and held it out for all to see.
"This is a kunai. Not just a throwing knife. It's a utility weapon. You stab, slash, dig, pry, deflect, or pin. It's heavy for a reason. You throw it and lose it, you better have a backup or a death wish. Use it like a crowbar with a sharp edge."
He set the kunai down and grabbed a shuriken.
"This here is a shuriken. Meant for mid-range pressure, distraction, or steering your opponent. Don't think you'll be killing people with these anytime soon. Hitting a vital point on a moving target is a skill you won't master for years. Use it smart. Not strong."
He lifted a smoke bomb next.
"Smoke bombs. Your best friend when the mission goes sideways. You toss one, disappear, and reposition. But they aren't magic. Wind jutsu or open terrain will ruin them. You need to use your head, not just your hands."
Next came the wire.
"Wire. Simple, deadly, and nearly invisible. Use it for trip wires, setting traps, binding scrolls, or manipulating tools at range. Combine it with paper bombs, and suddenly you've got an ambush trap worthy of an ANBU. Shinobi who plan win before the fight begins."
He gently lifted a paper bomb.
"Paper bombs. Flashy, destructive, and dangerous. One good placement can level a tree. But a mistake here? That's how you lose a limb. You'll learn how to plant them, disguise them, and eventually layer them with jutsu. But first, basic timing and placement."
Then he held up a soldier pill.
"Soldier pills. These are not candy. They'll supercharge your chakra and keep you moving when you should have collapsed. But when they wear off, the crash is brutal. Use them to finish a mission, not to run laps in class."
He stepped back and looked across the field.
"These tools have saved more lives than jutsu ever will. A kunai doesn't misfire. A wire trap doesn't need chakra. A paper bomb doesn't hesitate. Remember that."
He paused, then added with a dry smirk, "We'll begin with kunai. don't stab yourselves in the foot. The med-nin are already tired of patching up overconfident brats."
Each of us was handed a kunai. The instructions were simple, feel the weight, get familiar, and do not throw yet.
I grinned confidently. "I'll ace this."
A few minutes later, we were finally given the go-ahead to practice on the tree trunk targets.
I held the kunai like I was born with it in my hand. I pulled my arm back with full force to throw, brimming with pride, ready to show off my elite kunai-wielding bloodline.
Then, while my arm was swinging back at full speed to gain momentum, the kunai slipped right out of my fingers.
Not forward. Backward.
It shot through the air like a missile in reverse, whistling straight toward Kaen Uchiha's head.
His eyes widened in slow horror. I swear I saw his entire life flash before him in a single heartbeat.
Then, Daiken moved.
He didn't flicker. He didn't blur.
He just vanished.
A moment later, he was there. Arm outstretched. Two fingers pinching the kunai mid-spin, just before it could split Kaen's skull. The sheer precision. The casual effort. It was like he had caught a falling leaf mid-gale without even trying.
Kaen collapsed to the ground, gasping like he'd seen the Shinigami himself. Meanwhile, Daiken remained where he stood, unmoving, kunai in hand, calm as ever, like this was just part of his daily warm-up routine.
Kaen looked at me with so much fury, I thought his eyes were about to skip straight to the Mangekyo Sharingan and trap me in an eternal genjutsu where I spent eternity staring at delicious food I couldn't eat.
Daiken's gaze however pinned me in place. Calm. Unblinking. Quietly judgmental.
I raised both hands slowly in surrender and said, "I swear I didn't mean to do that."
A moment passed before I continued.
"Mostly."