These past two days, I've spent almost all my time at home. Except for a couple of short visits to the hospital — checking in on Gai, seeing how his recovery is going. Of course, he kept his spirits up, joked around, promised to get back to training soon, but his eyes gave him away — he was worried.
The rest of the time I stayed inside, not stepping out. I spent hours over scrolls, drawing out formulas, reviewing everything I could remember.
I'm too weak.
I knew that even before the skirmish, but after the fight, the realization hit like a cold blade. Yes, I have memory. Yes, I have the intellect and experience of an adult — not a child. But that advantage won't last forever. Year by year, the gap will shrink — especially as the other shinobi begin to unlock their true potential.
If I want to survive — no, not just survive, but take control of my own fate — I need a plan. A hard, realistic, long-term plan.
I've more or less adapted to this body, to this world. My hands obey, chakra responds. Even the weights have become something natural. So I decided — no more stalling.
Over these two days, I built the first version of my Ascension Plan — to rise among the powerful of this world.
I wrote it down. Not everything, of course — some I kept in my head, some encrypted in a scroll. Not out of paranoia — just caution. In this shinobi world, too much honesty can easily become a fatal mistake.
I leaned back onto the floor, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet. Outside, crickets chirped, and a muffled voice came from below — someone talking on their way home. The world around me kept living its life, peaceful, a little tired, as if lulled by a summer day.
But I had no time for peace.
It was time to begin. The first step in my plan — earn the rank of Chūnin.
It's not just a title — it's a key that unlocks doors currently closed to me.
First — access to the expanded section of the ninja library, where more advanced techniques and tactical scrolls are stored. Right now, as a regular Genin, I can only study basic methods — which won't get me far.
Second — the ability to take on C-rank missions independently. At first glance, that might not sound impressive — deliveries or escorts? But for me, it's a chance to:
Move freely outside the village without constant supervision.
Accumulate military points (awarded for mission completion), which can be spent on access to techniques, scrolls, training with masters, and even rare equipment.
Now — what does it take to get that rank?
First off, the current situation works in my favor.
There's a war going on. Historically, during such periods, exam requirements were lowered. That's why, in the original story, many Chūnin seemed weak or average. Konoha was mass-issuing ranks to reinforce team structures and replenish losses.
But even with lowered standards, the exam is still a serious challenge.
To even get in, you need a recommendation from your team captain. I think our sensei might give us one — the team's been doing well and has growth potential. That part of the plan seems feasible.
The exam itself — that's another matter. It might include a knowledge test, maybe team tasks or battles. Whatever it is, I'll need to be ready for anything.
The hardest part will be demonstrating leadership. To become Chūnin, being a strong fighter isn't enough. You need to be able to make decisions, take responsibility, lead others.
Our team doesn't have a clear leader yet. Gai's more of a fighter — not someone drawn to command. But Genma… yeah, he leans that way.
Calm, observant, composed. I can feel he might become my rival. Which means I'll have to prove that I'm the better choice for that role.
I wasn't going to openly snatch leadership. That's the path of fools and those who don't understand how team dynamics work. Leadership isn't about shouting — it's about being the one who decides when others hesitate. The one who stays focused in chaos. The one who shoulders the consequences.
I had already studied team formations. In theory, it all seemed simple — a core axis, role distribution, standard signals. But in practice, it required synchronicity, understanding your teammates without words. You don't get that from talking — it takes action, training, joint drills. I knew I needed to focus more on this, learn to build synergy, develop muscle memory, establish roles within the team.
But now wasn't the time. Gai was still in the hospital, which meant full team training was off. And our teacher had disappeared somewhere. No sign of him for the past couple days — no assignments, no tests, not even roll call. It was starting to bother me.
I stood up, carefully rolled up a small working scroll, and slipped it into my side pocket.
"Well," I muttered to myself, "I won't become Chūnin in the next six months anyway — not unless a miracle happens. So it's time to focus on real preparation."
My biggest issue — my arsenal. It's too limited. Frankly, a regular Genin already knows a good dozen techniques — simple, yes, but still useful in battle. I have five. Four of them are basic: Bunshin, Henge, Kawarimi, and Body Flicker. The only one outside of "textbook" techniques — Great Breakthrough, a Wind Release technique.
I couldn't acquire new techniques yet — the library for a genin was too limited by battle achievements, and special permissions weren't given out just like that. So for now, there was only one way: to improve what I already had. To squeeze the maximum out of the minimum.
At least I had ideas.
I headed to the training ground. The morning was cool, the air fresh — damp earth, dewy grass, smoke from chimneys. The streets were almost empty. A perfect time for peaceful practice.
I didn't have to go far — one of the open fields was nearby, behind the workshops. No one was there, only scorched stumps and torn-up targets showed someone had trained recently.
I stood in the center and warmed up — joints cracked, muscles tensed. The weights clinked quietly with my movements, a reminder: you're still wearing your chains.
"Let's try this," I said aloud, pulling out a kunai.
The idea was simple. Just before activating "Great Breakthrough," throw a kunai or shuriken — then accelerate it mid-flight with a burst of wind. Theoretically, this would increase both its speed and kinetic impact. I'd seen a technique like this in an anime, where Itachi Uchiha enhanced his fire techniques by guiding shuriken to cut through the air with terrifying precision. Why not try something similar — but with wind?
In theory, it sounded perfect. In practice?..
I took a stance, paused. Formulas flashed in my head: chakra direction, focus point, activation timing.
"Kunai… Breakthrough… Go!"
I hurled the kunai forward and immediately started forming hand seals. The air in my lungs thickened, chakra swirled in my chest, and I exhaled, pushing the technique forward. The wind burst from my lips — but too late. The kunai had already hit the target; the gust barely nudged it, adding nothing.
"Too slow…" I muttered, squinting.
Second try — another mistake. This time I rushed, and the wind hit the kunai mid-air, but too early, nearly knocking it off course. It hit the ground beside the target, scratching the wood.
Third attempt — and the chakra was too weak. Instead of a powerful blast, it came out like a strong puff. No power, no result.
I wiped some sweat from my brow. Control. It all came down to that. It wasn't just about exhaling air — it had to be chakra-filled, precisely directed, at just the right moment. Even the slightest delay made the technique useless.
"Good jutsu, but without exact timing, it's just a party trick," I muttered, raising another kunai. "Alright. Break it down step by step. Throw, inhale, seals, release. Follow the muscle cue. Don't rush."
I took the stance again. This time, I ran everything through in my head first, without using chakra. Again and again, mentally rehearsing the sequence — throw, inhale, seals, exhale. Then again. And again. Only after the fifth dry run did I attempt it once more.
Kunai — on target. Wind — right behind.
It hit the mark almost simultaneously with the kunai. The blade pierced through the wood, wind cracked through the air with a sharp snap.
Penetrating power — confirmed!
"Do it ten more times. Maybe then my body will start doing it without messing up," I said to myself, picking up the next kunai.
"Welcome to the real world of training."