Chapter 32: A Foundation Forged in Pain
The afternoon session was a practical examination. The Chunin instructor laid out the simple, demanding rules: hit all thirty training dummies scattered across the field with shuriken in the shortest time possible.
"Next, Uchiha Takumi."
At the call of his name, Takumi stepped forward. His arm snapped forward, and the shuriken flew straight and true, embedding itself in the center of a distant dummy's forehead. His proficiency with the [Shurikenjutsu] entry was nearing completion, now at 88%. Even before acquiring the entry, his accuracy had improved dramatically. Where others saw a blurry black dot, his enhanced perception, a combination of natural talent and the Sharingan's latent potential, rendered the target with crystal clarity.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
One after another, the shuriken found their marks. Takumi didn't stand still; he was in constant motion, sprinting between positions, his throws never faltering. The test was as much about mobility and adaptability as it was about accuracy.
A short while later, Takumi came to a stop, his breathing deep but controlled.
"Nine points!" the Chunin instructor announced, recording the score. The maximum was ten. "Rapid progress, Takumi," the instructor remarked, a note of genuine surprise in his voice. The only one who might surpass this was Kakashi. He found himself wondering what Takumi could have achieved if he'd had a full, standard Academy education. And he possessed the Sharingan on top of that. The instructor shook his head, dismissing the thought. The borders were restless; too many shinobi were returning from missions wounded. There was no time for hypotheticals.
Takumi gave a slight nod and returned to his seat.
"Takumi-kun, you're improving so fast!"
"Any tips, Takumi-kun?"
After several months, his classmates were familiar with him and occasionally sought his advice. Takumi, however, had little time to spare for idle chatter. He wished he could split his time in two.
"It's just consistent effort. Anyone can make rapid progress if they dedicate themselves," Takumi replied with a practiced, polite smile before effectively ending the conversation.
The next to be tested was Kakashi. His performance was a study in cold efficiency. Expressionless, he moved through the course with an economy of motion that was almost jarring, completing the test in a time noticeably shorter than Takumi's.
As Takumi observed, trying to glean any subtle technique from Kakashi's flawless form, a soft voice interrupted his focus.
"Takumi-kun, could I speak with you for a moment?"
It was Nohara Rin. The distinctive purple markings on her cheeks seemed to stand out in the afternoon sun.
Takumi looked at her, his expression neutral, and nodded.
"Takumi-kun, Kakashi and I have known each other for a long time. But lately... why is it you he seeks out?" Rin got straight to the point, her voice laced with a mixture of concern and confusion.
Takumi considered his response for a moment. "Kakashi needs an outlet," he said simply. "A way to channel his frustration and shut out the noise from the village. I assume you aren't trained in kenjutsu?"
"I... I'm not," Rin admitted, her gaze dropping. Her grades were excellent, among the top of their class, and she had a pronounced talent for medical ninjutsu. The instructors had already noted her potential for further training in the Medical Corps after graduation. But taijutsu and weapon skills were not her forte.
"Furthermore," Takumi added, his tone lowering, "if he doesn't find that outlet, he's likely to develop... problems."
"Problems? What do you mean?" Rin's confusion deepened.
"Who can say?" Takumi offered no further explanation, turning and walking away. He didn't need to elaborate on the psychological toll, the inherent darkness of a system that preached the "Will of Fire" yet vilified a man for choosing his comrades over a mission. If the Hokage himself had publicly commended Sakumo's choice while administering a token punishment for the mission's failure, the village would have followed his lead. Instead, silence from the top had created a vacuum filled with condemnation, a pressure cooker that had driven a hero to suicide. Rin, in her innocence, couldn't yet grasp such grim realities.
Rin stood frozen, a deep frown on her face. She looked back to where Kakashi had already finished his test and melted into the crowd, her heart aching with a sense of helplessness.
What could she possibly do?
Several Days Later
Takumi spent every spare moment in solitary training, pushing his limits in preparation for his goal: early graduation.
[Entry: Academy Three Jutsu (Novice) - ACQUIRED.]
[Effect: Your proficiency with the Transformation, Clone, and Substitution Techniques is 5% greater than the average shinobi's.]
He had finally mastered the foundational three. What took civilian-born students years to solidify, he had compressed into a few months of relentless drilling. Even for a clan-born shinobi, his speed was remarkable.
"Now, to advance," he murmured, focusing on his interface. The path forward had been revealed when he'd acquired [Water Strider] and [Arboreal Ascension], its final requirement now met.
[Entry: Solid Foundation (Adept) - ACQUIRED.]
[Effect: Your total chakra reserves are increased by 20%.]
The moment the system's voice faded, the pain began.
It was an agony of expansion. Every cell in his body, from the deepest muscle fibers to the most delicate nerve endings, felt as if it were being violently stretched and then packed with raw, surging energy. Chakra was the alchemy of spiritual and physical energy; a boost of this magnitude wasn't just a mental phenomenon—it was a fundamental, physical transformation.
"Which means... the body itself must become stronger to contain it," he gritted out, his mind clinging to the theory as a anchor against the pain.
One minute passed. Then two. A full quarter of an hour later, the violent sensations began to subside, leaving behind a body that felt… more. He looked down at his hands; they were broader, the fingers thicker and more powerful. Stripping off his shirt, he saw his musculature was more defined, coiled with a new, latent power. He straightened his back, rolling his shoulders, feeling the difference in his very skeleton.
He had grown taller. His pants now ended noticeably higher on his ankles.
"Now I'm really shooting up," he muttered, the lingering ache in every cell a testament to the profound change. But the pain was secondary to the overwhelming sensation that followed—a deep, resonant sense of power and a mind buzzing with vibrant, heightened awareness.
(End of Chapter)
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