Chapter 4 – The Weight of Stones
The clang of wooden practice weapons echoed through the training yard of the Hidden Stone Academy. Dust rose with every clash, sunlight catching on the grit suspended in the air. Among the rows of students struggling with their drills, one boy stood apart—sweat streaming down his brow, jaw clenched, eyes burning with quiet determination.
His name was Daichi, a transmigrant who carried with him only faint memories of another world, and the basic knowledge of chakra and shinobi arts he had gleaned from old stories. No bloodline, no teacher's favor, no genius talent—just raw grit.
"Again," Daichi muttered to himself, adjusting his stance. His wooden staff trembled in his blistered palms, but he tightened his grip.
His classmates had already abandoned extra practice, laughing in the shade, but Daichi kept going. He had set boulders around his arms earlier that morning, binding them with ropes as makeshift weights. Every swing of his staff now felt like trying to carve through the mountain itself.
A shadow fell across him.
"You'll break your body before you break the stone.
Daichi turned. It was Instructor Kuroda, a scarred veteran with a perpetual scowl. His voice was sharp, but his eyes carried something more—scrutiny, maybe curiosity.
"I won't break," Daichi said, his breathing ragged but his back straight. "If I stop now, I'll never be more than average."
Kuroda snorted, crossing his arms. "Average shinobi live longer than foolish ones." He paused, then added, "But… sometimes, it's the fools who shape the future. Keep at it. Just don't collapse in my training yard."
When the instructor walked away, Daichi allowed himself a small grin. For the first time, someone had acknowledged his resolve.
He resumed his drills, each strike ringing louder than the last, as if announcing his stubborn will to the entire village.