Chapter 4: The Second Achievement (Patreon)

In Naruto With an Achievement System

Chapter 4: The Second Achievement

After another hour of classes – mostly theory, which thankfully required little participation – the day finally came to an end. I didn't talk much during that time, keeping my head down, trying to ignore the occasional sideways glance or whispered comment. The spars, particularly my match against Anko, were still the main topic of conversation among the students.

As soon as the dismissal bell rang, I was out the door. I didn't bother walking like a normal student, didn't try to blend into the departing crowd. What was the point now? Instead, I took to the rooftops, channeling points into Agility though I did make sure to not show even more speed, and leapt across the gaps between buildings, the wind whipping past my face. I just wanted to reach my apartment, the small measure of privacy it offered.

When I finally burst through my door, I didn't even bother taking off my shoes. I stumbled straight to the futon and collapsed onto it, face down, letting out a long, frustrated groan into the thin mattress. FUCK! Even in that last class, people had still been talking about the spars. The attention was suffocating.

I turned over, staring blankly at the plain wooden ceiling. Suddenly, the air in front of my face shimmered. With a soft pop, colourful confetti erupted around me, sparkling briefly before vanishing into nothingness. I flinched back, letting out a small yelp of surprise as a familiar transparent blue screen materialized before my eyes – the same one I'd seen nearly a month ago when I first managed the leaf-sticking exercise.

White text began to scroll across it:

[Achievement Accomplished!]

[Defeated a Named Opponent!]

[A̸͋͜c̸̝͌h̶͔̓i̵̘͝ë̵͎v̷̙͝e̴̺͋m̴̂ͅe̴͔͑n̴͎̍t̸̹̄ ̸̪̚R̴͇̔a̶̞͘ṅ̴̮k̵̇ͅ:̷̘͛ ̵̲͝H̴̻̃Ḯ̴̱G̷̱͌H̴̍ͅ]

The rank designation flickered erratically, the letters distorting and momentarily overlapping. My heart jumped. The System seemed to be glitching. A wave of worry washed over me. Even if I didn't get any more abilities, I'd probably be fine in the long run, but what if the malfunction caused something worse? What if I spontaneously blew up or something equally disastrous because the System was breaking down?

Before my panic could fully take hold, the glitched text vanished, replaced by new, slightly less unstable lettering:

[Rank Downgrade Initiated... Recalibrating Significance...]

[High Achievement -> Mid Achievement]

[Sparring Victory: Named Opponent]

[Achievement Rank: MID]

It flickered again, the word "MID" wavering for a second before solidifying, only to immediately glitch again.

[Rank Downgrade Initiated... Recalibrating Context...]

[Mid Achievement -> Low Achievement]

[Academy Spar Victory: Named Opponent (Child)]

[Achievement Rank: LOW]

Finally, the screen stabilized, the text holding steady. A Low-Level Achievement for winning a spar against the child version of a named character. That… made more sense.

[Reward Granted!]

[Train the Slayer] (Demon Slayer) [Refinement]

It wouldn’t do to not have the basics down when out on a mission to hunt for demons. Notably, you have been trained to fight during the night and expect to be attacked at any angle at any time, which means it will be a cold day in the infinity castle when you’re truly caught off guard. This also comes with a basic understanding of how to use a katana, how to maintain it, and the traditional customs for carrying them.

Similar to [Attribute Distribution], the influx of knowledge from this reward was… smooth, almost seamless. For a moment, I couldn't tell if anything had actually happened. Then, I felt it – a subtle shift in my awareness, a new layer of instinct overlaid onto my existing senses.

The muscle memory came first. I knew, without consciously thinking about it, the proper way to grip a katana, the balance point, the feeling of the weight in my hand. I knew the basic stances, the footwork required for drawing, parrying, striking, and defending. The movements felt familiar, ingrained, as if I'd practiced them countless times, even though I'd never held a real katana in this life. I wasn't an expert, far from it; I lacked real-world experience, the reflexes honed by actual combat. But I possessed a solid foundation, enough to hold my own for a minute or two against another beginner.

The enhancement to my hearing was more immediately noticeable. It wasn't an increase in range – I couldn't hear things miles away – but rather an increase in depth and clarity. With a slight mental focus, the ambient noise of the building and the street outside sharpened. The apartment complex was situated in a relatively busy area, and even through the walls, I could now clearly distinguish individual voices from the passing civilians outside – snippets of conversation, laughter, the occasional shout. More than just hearing them, I could pinpoint their direction, almost visualizing their location relative to my room. It was like adding another layer of sensory input, a more detailed map of my immediate surroundings composed entirely of sound.

This enhanced hearing and alertness would definitely be useful, especially in spars. Being able to better pinpoint an opponent's movements through sound, maybe even hearing subtle shifts in their breathing or stance, could provide a small but crucial edge.

More importantly, the part about being harder to catch off guard was significant. Ambushes would be incredibly difficult to pull off against me now, unless the opponent was overwhelmingly faster. And even then, the odds of them succeeding were significantly lower thanks to Attribute Distribution. I could instantly boost my Agility or Defense if I sensed an attack coming, making a successful surprise attack much less likely.

Okay, I need to stop brooding, I told myself firmly, pushing myself up from the futon. Getting worked up wasn't helping. I hadn't shown that much skill to warrant this level of anxiety. Sure, I beat Anko, but I hesitated in the first spar against Kenji, almost tripping over myself. That should count for something, right? Show that I wasn't some kind of combat prodigy.

It wasn't like they were going to hand me a kunai tomorrow and throw me onto a battlefield just because I won a couple of Academy spars. I needed to calm down. Fretting about attention was wasting time, time I should be spending getting stronger.

Speaking of getting stronger… This new [Train the Slayer] perk meant I needed a sword. A katana. Though, looking down at my still relatively small frame, I doubted I could effectively wield a full-sized one yet. Maybe something smaller… like a wakizashi? Yes, that seemed more manageable for my current size. I'd need to look into acquiring one.

Feeling motivated now, a sharp contrast to the frustrated heap I'd been just moments ago, I got up and headed out. The Academy training grounds were the obvious destination. I made my way there, moving through the late afternoon streets.

I reached the familiar, large expanse of packed earth and headed towards my usual spot – a relatively secluded corner near the edge, partially obscured by a cluster of trees. These grounds were expansive enough that you rarely encountered other students unless you actively sought them out, which was exactly why I felt comfortable practicing here, especially when experimenting with Attribute Distribution.

To be honest, I knew I couldn't stay completely under the radar forever, not regarding my abilities. Eventually, I'd have to reveal more of what I could do, especially once I graduated and started taking on real missions. The battlefield wouldn't allow for holding back. But for now, while I was still learning, still adapting, I wanted the chance to grow stronger on my own terms, to maximize my chances of survival before attracting unwanted attention or expectations.

My main goal now was to refine my use of Attribute Distribution. The current method, relying on visualizing sliders, took a precious moment – a moment that could easily mean death on a real battlefield. I needed faster, more instinctive ways to shift my attributes, especially for common combat scenarios.

I decided to create pre-set "forms" – specific configurations I could switch to instantly, or at least much faster, without needing to meticulously adjust mental sliders.

First, a maximum Agility form. I envisioned sacrificing most of my Strength, pouring it all into Agility, while keeping a baseline level of Defense. Running face-first into a tree at high speed wouldn't be pleasant, so turning myself into a red smear was something to avoid.

Second, a maximum Strength form. Similar principle: sacrifice Agility, pump everything into Strength, but again, maintain enough Defense so I wouldn't shatter my own bones throwing a powerful punch, like I almost did on that first day.

Finally, a full Defense form, maximizing physical resilience above all else.

A habit from my previous life, maybe a bit childish but effective, surfaced: I mentally gave each form a simple name. "Swift," "Might," and "Guard." To my surprise, just thinking the name seemed to act as a trigger, a mnemonic shortcut that bypassed much of the visualization process, initiating the attribute shift more quickly.

Of course, I couldn't rely solely on the names. What if I was gagged, or had my jaw broken and couldn't even form the thought clearly? I still needed the base ability to shift attributes purely through mental focus.

So, I spent the next two hours practicing. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple as I repeatedly shifted my attributes. First, I focused on doing it purely through thought, without the visualizer. Initially, it took about three seconds to fully reallocate the points. It felt less precise, more like roughly dumping points into categories rather than fine-tuning them, but precision wasn't the goal here; speed was.

After an hour of focused practice, I'd shaved the thought-based activation time down to two seconds. Then, I practiced using the names. "Swift!" – the shift was almost instantaneous, completing in roughly one second. "Might!" – same result. "Guard!" – again, a near-instantaneous change.

It was progress, but I knew I could get faster. More practice was needed. I needed to make the thought-based activation as fast as the mnemonic trigger, and maybe even shorten that one-second activation further.

The next day at the Academy was… manageable. People still sent occasional glances my way during breaks and between classes, whispers sometimes starting up as I walked past. Midori-sensei's attention was definitely more focused on me now. I caught her watching me several times during our taijutsu drills, her expression thoughtful, almost analytical. It was a little unnerving.

Thankfully – or perhaps not, depending on how you looked at it – my actual performance in the drills didn't do much to reinforce the idea that I was some kind of hidden prodigy. My skill with the standard Leaf Style stances and forms was genuinely average, maybe slightly below middle-of-the-pack. I hadn't really focused on incorporating the Academy style into my personal training, preferring my own mix of basic movements and relying on Attribute Distribution for effectiveness. So, while I could execute the drills passably, I lacked the natural fluidity and precision many others displayed.

One noticeable change was the attitude of Hayate and Yugao. They were definitely more open, friendlier. Hayate seemed less perpetually tired when talking to me, and Yugao offered small smiles more readily.

When lunchtime arrived, I was heading towards my usual solitary spot near the back of the cafeteria when Hayate called out to me.

"Hey, Yuuki! Over here!"

I turned to see him and Yugao sitting at a small table, waving me over. Surprised, I hesitated for a moment before changing direction and walking towards them.

"You eating alone again?" Hayate asked as I approached.

"Uh, yeah, usually," I replied, still a bit taken aback.

"Sit with us," Yugao offered, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

I sat down, placing my simple lunch – rice balls and some pickled vegetables I'd prepared that morning – on the table.

"Midori-sensei really worked us hard in those drills today," Hayate commented, taking a bite of his own lunch. "My legs are killing me."

"Tell me about it," Yugao agreed, nodding. "She kept correcting my footwork on that third stance."

We fell into easy small talk for a few minutes, mostly complaining about the training, speculating about upcoming lessons, the usual student gripes. It felt… normal. Surprisingly so.

An idea occurred to me, prompted by my thoughts from the previous evening. "Hey," I began, trying to sound casual, "either of you know much about weapons? Like, swords?"

Hayate paused mid-chew, looking intrigued. "Swords? A little. My family has some history with kenjutsu. Why?"

"Well," I continued, choosing my words carefully, "I was thinking… taijutsu is fine, but maybe learning a weapon could be useful too. Something to supplement it. I was thinking about maybe trying to find a… wakizashi? Something smaller, easier to handle?" I feigned a beginner's uncertainty. "Do you know where someone might even get one? Or if it's something Academy students are even allowed to have?"

Hayate swallowed his food, considering my question. "A wakizashi, huh? Yeah, they're lighter, faster than a full katana. Good choice for someone starting out, or for close-quarters fighting." He leaned forward slightly. "As for getting one… that's tricky for Academy students. Most weapon shops won't sell blades like that to kids without a parent or guardian, especially one who's a registered shinobi."

Yugao chimed in, her expression thoughtful. "And even if you could get one, carrying it around might be an issue. The Academy has rules about unauthorized weapons on the grounds. You'd have to be careful."

"Right," Hayate agreed, nodding. "Plus, just having a sword isn't enough. You need proper training. Kenjutsu isn't something you can just pick up. Bad habits are hard to break, and you could seriously injure yourself." He paused, then added, "My grandfather used to say that an untrained swordsman is more dangerous to himself than his enemy."

"So, it's probably not realistic right now?" I asked, trying to gauge their reactions, letting a hint of disappointment show.

"Not impossible," Hayate mused, tapping his chin. "There might be ways. Maybe through a family connection, or perhaps finding an older shinobi willing to vouch for you and maybe offer some basic instruction… but it wouldn't be easy. And definitely not official Academy business."

"Why the sudden interest in swords, anyway?" Yugao asked, looking at me curiously. "Most students focus on the standard Academy curriculum, maybe specializing later."

"Just… thinking ahead," I said vaguely. "Seems like having more skills could be useful. Taijutsu is good, but having another option… it feels safer, maybe?" I shrugged, trying to make it sound like a passing thought rather than a determined plan.

Hayate seemed to accept the explanation. "Makes sense. Diversifying your skill set is smart. But maybe focus on mastering the basics here first? Midori-sensei seems to think you've got potential in taijutsu, even if you act like you don't." He gave me a knowing look, referencing my earlier deflection yesterday after the spar.

I just offered a noncommittal grunt in response. The conversation drifted back to safer topics after that, but the wakizashi plan seems to unfortunately be a bust for now.

Just as the conversation lulled, a loud voice cut through the cafeteria buzz.

"Aha! I finally found you!"

We all looked up. Anko Mitarashi was marching towards our table, a determined, almost predatory grin plastered on her face. She stopped right beside us, drawing the attention of nearby students. Ignoring Hayate and Yugao completely, she pointed directly at me.

"Fight me, Kagurazaka!" she declared, her voice echoing slightly in the large room.

I blinked, took a slow sip of water from my cup, and then looked back at her, deliberately keeping my expression neutral.

"No," I replied dryly.

Anko recoiled as if struck. "What!? Why not? HUH!" Her grin vanished, replaced by indignant disbelief. "You beat me yesterday! You owe me a rematch! Unless you're scared?" She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that was still loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Afraid you just got lucky?"

I picked up a rice ball, examining it with mild interest before taking a bite. Chewing slowly, I finally answered, my voice muffled slightly by the food. "Not interested."

"Not interested?!" Anko practically shrieked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Heads were turning now, conversations pausing as more students focused on the unfolding drama. "What kind of shinobi-in-training are you? Someone challenges you, and you just say 'not interested'? Where's your pride? Don't you want to prove yesterday wasn't a fluke?" She jabbed a finger towards me again. "Come on! Right here, right now! Let's go!"

I finished the rice ball, dusted the crumbs off my fingers onto my tray, and met her furious gaze with one of utter boredom. "Still no."

A few kids around us snickered at Anko's frustrated outburst, and I felt a brief spark of amusement myself. I could sort of understand why Kakashi might find Guy's relentless challenges entertaining; there was something inherently funny about this level of persistent absurdity and then just ignoring it.

The amusement vanished instantly, however, when Anko suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me halfway out of my seat. Her face was inches from mine, her eyes blazing.

"You. Will. Fight. Me!" she hissed, shaking me slightly.

All humor drained away, replaced by cold annoyance. "Let go, Mitarashi," I said quietly, my voice low and steady.

Her face contorted into a triumphant smirk. "And if I don't?" she challenged, tightening her grip.

I didn't say anything else. Reaching up, I grabbed her wrist, the one holding my shirt. My grip was firm. I started applying pressure, squeezing steadily. I was stronger than her, considerably so thanks to my consistent training, and I wasn't about to be manhandled by a damn kid, canon character or not.

The smirk was quickly wiped off her face as I increased the pressure, my fingers digging into the tendons of her wrist. A flicker of pain crossed her features, replaced by surprise, then anger, then actual discomfort. Her knuckles were turning white.

"Let him go!" Yugao suddenly exclaimed, standing up.

"Now!" Hayate added, his voice sharp, rising from his seat as well.

Ignoring their intervention for the moment, I focused entirely on Anko's wrist, putting a final, sharp burst of force into my grip. She gasped, her hand spasming open, releasing my shirt abruptly.

She stumbled back a step, cradling her wrist, glaring daggers at me. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked away, pushing through the crowd of onlookers.

And then the whispering started again, louder this time, accompanied by wide-eyed stares.

Fuck me, I thought, sinking back into my seat, the unwanted attention washing over me once more.

"Come on, let's go," Hayate said, his usual tired calmness replaced by a clear frown of annoyance. It was the first time I'd seen him look genuinely irritated since we'd met; he was usually so laid-back. "This is getting stupid."

Yugao nodded sharply, her arms crossed, her expression tight with anger – yeah, 'murderous' wasn't far off the mark. "Agreed. Before someone else decides to make a spectacle." Her eyes briefly scanned the whispering students around us, a silent warning in her gaze.

I looked from Hayate's annoyed face to Yugao's protective anger. They were standing up for me, annoyed for me. A strange warmth spread through my chest. Huh, I thought, a slow realization dawning. I… I think we might actually be friends now.

The thought brought an involuntary, genuine smile to my face, probably looking a bit out of place given the preceding tension. "Yeah," I agreed, gathering my lunch tray. "Good idea."

Hayate caught my smile and raised an eyebrow slightly but didn't comment, simply gesturing towards the exit. Yugao gave a curt nod. Together, the three of us picked up our trays and walked out of the noisy cafeteria, leaving the whispers and stares behind us.