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Chapter 4 – Six Months Later
Six months had passed in a blur of sweat, pain, and endless repetition.
Kazuki's life had narrowed down to a strict cycle. Sunrise meant chakra control drills. Midday was for pounding his body into shape until his limbs shook. Nightfall brought elemental training and shape manipulation exercises, his room dimly lit by a single flickering candle.
He had immersed himself with the desperation of a man reborn with purpose. In his past life, he had wasted time. In this one, every second mattered.
For a civilian orphan, the results bordered on miraculous. Compared to clan prodigies, his growth was modest. But for someone with no bloodline, no tutor, and no family name? He was turning himself into something formidable.
Kazuki staggered to a stop after his fiftieth lap around the orphanage playground. His lungs burned, his legs felt like they were filled with molten lead, and sweat poured down his face. He leaned against the fence, chest heaving.
And yet, his lips curved into a thin smile.
Not enough. But progress.
He could remember the first day—barely managing five laps before collapsing. Now fifty laps were his baseline. Pain wasn't an enemy anymore; it was proof of growth.
Kazuki had also woven a subtle routine into his training: frequent visits to the famous Ichiraku Ramen Shop.
To the world, he was just another hungry orphan with a cute smile and bottomless appetite. Teuchi and Ayame often gave him extra noodles out of pity, unaware that his real motive was far more calculating.
Kazuki sat quietly in the corner, chopsticks moving with mechanical rhythm as his eyes scanned the shinobi customers who drifted in and out. Their gaits, their posture, the casual way they held themselves—all were observations to be fed into Jarvis. He memorized how different chakra signatures felt, the way jōnin radiated a subtle pressure, while genin barely had a flicker.
One evening, he murmured into his bowl, voice so low it blended with the clatter of the shop.
"Jarvis. What did you find that could help me in the future?"
The AI's calm, mechanical hum resonated in his mind.
[Sir, every ninja possesses a natural chakra reserve limit, predetermined by genetics. Clan children differ significantly from civilians, as their lineage grants both a higher starting point and a higher ceiling.]
Kazuki's chopsticks paused. "And my limit?"
[Your theoretical maximum capacity: approximately 8,000 units. Mid–Jōnin level. Average.]
"Tch." He slurped noodles loudly, masking his irritation. "So I'm not a prodigy. Just another average kid."
[Correct, sir. However, your theory from your previous life—that chakra behaves like a muscle—is valid. In this world, it is underutilized. Shinobi avoid exhausting their reserves completely due to risks of coma or death. Clan heirs never needed to push further, relying on bloodline advantages. Civilians prioritize survival over long-term training. Thus, progress stagnated.]
A slow, feral grin spread across Kazuki's face. "So they stopped because it was dangerous and slow. Fear and laziness. That's their ceiling. Not mine."
"Jarvis. Display my stats."
[Status Report]
Age: 5 years, 6 months
Location: Hidden Leaf Village – Civilian Orphanage, Sector 3
Chakra Detected: 7 Units (Dormant)
Mission: Survive. Grow. Ascend.
Kazuki smirked. "Not bad. From three units to seven in half a year. A 133% increase."
Physically, his body had transformed too. What was once a malnourished, fragile frame now carried faint outlines of wiry muscle. He could finish:
Four sets of push-ups with twelve reps.
Five sets of sit-ups with twenty reps.
Five sets of squats with fifteen reps.
Four sets of pull-ups with eight reps.
Numbers didn't lie. He was stronger.
Between gasps, Kazuki muttered, "It's easier to develop strength here. Must be the chakra-infused biology… or maybe my AI training plan."
Jarvis interjected smoothly.
[Sir, comparative benchmarks by rank are as follows: Civilians – 5 units. Genin – 50. Chūnin – 500. Jōnin – 5,000. Elite Jōnin – 10,000. S-Rank – 500,000. Kage – 800,000. S+ Kage – 1,000,000.]
Kazuki arched an eyebrow, impressed and horrified all at once. "That's… quite the curve. So even at Jōnin level, I'd still be nothing but a drop in the ocean."
Wind Nature Transformation had been its own battle.
It took him nearly six weeks to slice a single leaf cleanly. By the third month, he could cut them consistently. Deprived of waterfalls for advanced practice, he improvised—progressing from leaves to twigs, then to branches, building resistance and density.
Each cut honed his control. Each failure stung his pride. No Shadow Clones meant no shortcuts. Every fragment of progress was carved by his own hands.
In the fifth month, fortune offered an unexpected tool.
An elderly couple visited the orphanage, distributing toys and candy. Their eyes carried grief; Kazuki guessed they'd lost someone during the Nine-Tails' rampage. Among their gifts were dozens of water balloons.
While the other children squealed with joy, Kazuki quietly pocketed several.
"Phase one of Rasengan training," he whispered later that night, holding a balloon in his palm.
He remembered Naruto's reckless approach—forcing chakra to swirl chaotically until the balloon popped. Kazuki focused, pouring chakra in multiple directions, trying to mimic the storm.
Hours passed. Then days. The balloon didn't even tremble.
"Jarvis. Status?"
[Analysis: chakra reserves insufficient for current method. Minimum output not met. However, continuing the exercise will still develop chakra shape manipulation.]
Kazuki squeezed the balloon with a scowl. "Too weak to pop a balloon. Humbling."
[Correction: not weak. Limited. The exercise remains valuable.]
He sighed, then nodded. "Fine. I'll keep at it."
The months bled together into a rhythm of suffering and progress. Kazuki's hands grew hard with calluses, his forearms lined with scars from countless failed wind-cutting drills. His body, once soft and fragile, now carried the faint solidity of a shinobi-in-training.
Every lap run until collapse, every night spent trembling with exhaustion, hammered his will into iron.
On the morning of his sixth birthday, Kazuki stood at the orphanage gate, staring at the Hokage Monument bathed in the golden glow of dawn. The carved faces looked down upon the village with silent judgment.
The Academy entrance exams were only two months away. The staff whispered about the test—basic physical drills, chakra inspection, written knowledge. Most kids were terrified.
Kazuki's lips curled upward, sharp and confident.
"I'll pass. Easily."
But in his heart, passing wasn't enough.
Domination was.
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