As for not being able to cut through the target with a single sword strike—it simply means the opponent is worth taking seriously.
Swordsmanship, to Saitama, is only a small part of his overall plan. Ninjutsu is the true king's path. In fact, he sees his Sharingan as the main direction of his future development.
Swordsmanship is merely a stopgap—something to make up for his lack of power in the early stages.
Art? It's fine, but not the priority.
After finishing his sword practice for the day, Saitama pulled out his kunai and shuriken.
To master kunai and shuriken throwing, one must develop muscle memory until they move as extensions of the fingers. It takes time and patience—but Saitama was confident in his talent.
Even after just his first afternoon of instruction, guided by a few simple explanations from the Academy instructor—and helped along by the knowledge he carried from his previous life—he could already use them proficiently after only a few attempts.
With continued practice, he believed Shurikenjutsu Specialization and Kunai Mastery wouldn't be far off.
Gripping a kunai in hand, Saitama held it like a miniature sword.
His hands were still too small.
This metal kunai was the real thing, unlike the lightweight wooden ones provided at the Academy, and it was much harder to handle.
He looped the ring at the base of the kunai around his index finger and spun it several times, letting the motion flow through his wrist.
After repeating the motion over and over, Saitama gradually developed a feel for the weapon's weight and the amount of strength needed for proper throws.
He did the same with shuriken.
This was part of a ninja's instinct—and a testament to Saitama's own latent talent.
He didn't throw them in the courtyard. Instead, he simply toyed with them in his hands, gradually deepening his understanding through tactile familiarity.
After about half an hour, he packed his tools into a ninja pouch and strapped it to the outside of his left thigh.
Many older ninjas he had seen wore their pouches this way—close at hand, easy to access in battle, and stylish in its own right. He simply copied the look.
Night fell. It was already ten o'clock, yet the light in his room was still on.
Granny KaKa—who'd taken him in—had always been a light sleeper, rising early and going to bed late.
After bidding her goodnight, Saitama headed upstairs.
His day wasn't over yet. Chakra refinement and hand seal practice still needed attention.
The Clone Technique only required three hand seals—Ram → Boar → Snake—and was considered one of the basic Academy ninjutsu. Not particularly difficult.
As long as you synced the chakra molding with the hand signs and finished within five seconds, the technique would activate.
Back in his room, after refining chakra for a bit, Saitama decided to try it out.
Relying on memory, he realized how simple these basic jutsu were when seen through the lens of his past life's knowledge.
Poof!
A puff of white smoke appeared—and another Uchiha Saitama stood in his room.
Looking at a copy of himself was a surreal experience.
He smiled—and the clone smiled back.
Of course, this Clone Technique created only a visual illusion, not a physical body. It couldn't interact with the real world. Only the Shadow Clone Technique could produce real, physical doubles.
Still, for his first attempt at ninjutsu, it was a complete success.
Saitama felt satisfied.
His parents hadn't left behind the Shadow Clone Technique, but perhaps he could learn it from within the clan eventually. The Uchiha, after all, were one of the great ninja clans—there had to be someone who knew it.
After washing up, Saitama went to bed with hope in his heart.
He had to be up early for school tomorrow—no sleeping in.
---
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Saitama leapt into the air, tossing two kunai mid-spin. As he landed, he threw another pair from both hands.
The four kunai crossed paths in mid-air, deflecting slightly from the collision, and embedded themselves perfectly into four different bullseyes—each in a blind spot.
This was a recreation of Uchiha Itachi's legendary shuriken technique, preserved vividly in Saitama's memory. But clearly, it wasn't so easy to replicate.
After all, Itachi had performed the feat while spinning, jumping, eyes closed—then landed gracefully on one knee.
Two months had passed since school began.
Saitama's daily routine consisted of chakra refinement and hand seal practice at school, then swordsmanship and throwing practice at home.
He hadn't seen much of Shisui lately. After class, Shisui returned home for clan training. His father had high hopes for him—and the clan had taken notice of his extraordinary talent.
This forest was Uchiha territory, and the clan's official training ground was nearby.
But Saitama didn't have free access to it—and more importantly, he wasn't eager to reveal his true ability in public.
The Uchiha Clan already carried a lot of pride. If he stood out too much, he might be compared to Shisui—the clan's next prodigy.
At school, Saitama's performance had been average, save for one impressive showing at the entrance.
The faculty didn't pay him much attention, categorizing him as a normal Uchiha.
Someone with some potential, perhaps, but ultimately not trying hard enough to bring it out.
After all this time, however, Saitama had reached a bottleneck in his chakra reserves.
Lately, during chakra refinement, he noticed something strange—his chakra output wasn't increasing like before.
It felt like something inside was swallowing up the refined chakra.
For a moment, he even wondered—was there some kind of mysterious "old man" sealed within him?
Brushing off the thought, Saitama carefully erased traces of his training from the area—and prepared to head home.