Chapter 5: Foundations and Opportunity (Patreon)

In Naruto With an Achievement System

Chapter 5: Foundations and Opportunity

Another month slipped by, marked by the familiar routine of early mornings, Academy classes, and intense evening training. Life settled into a rhythm, albeit a demanding one.

I had pushed my physical training even further. The original sack of rocks felt almost light now, a testament to the rapid gains this body was capable of. I'd replaced it with a larger, sturdier sack, crammed with even heavier stones collected from a nearby riverbed where the current had smoothed them over time. The weight was substantial now, straining my muscles with every repetition. Running with it strapped tightly to my back was agony, each step jarring my frame, but undeniably effective.

I'd also started incorporating it more consistently into other exercises. Wrapping the sack securely around my ankles with thick ropes for pull-ups turned each upward movement into a desperate struggle against gravity, my muscles screaming by the third rep. Balancing it precariously on my back during push-ups was a true test; my arms would tremble violently, sweat dripping onto the packed earth below, and I’d barely manage the last rep before collapsing, gasping for breath. Beyond that, there were the hours spent simply lifting and carrying the sack in various ways, focusing on building raw, functional strength.

My performance in the Academy's Bukijutsu classes – specifically kunai and shuriken throwing – remained mediocre at best. Yugao, whose own aim was precise and consistent, had noticed my struggles. One afternoon, after a particularly poor showing where several of my shuriken missed the target entirely, she'd approached me hesitantly.

"You know," she'd said, fidgeting slightly, "your form… when you release? It's a little off. Your wrist snaps too late. If you want… maybe I could show you a few things?" She glanced towards Hayate who was nearby. "Hayate's good too, probably better than me, actually."

Hayate, standing nearby, had just shrugged, offering a small cough into his fist before speaking. "She's got a good eye for technique," he admitted. "But yeah, your weight shift is off too. You shift after you throw. Shift your weight onto your front foot as you throw. We could probably give you some pointers together."

And so, a new element was added to my routine. Every few days, Yugao and Hayate would join me at the training grounds after classes. They didn't pry into my other, more intense training methods like the rock sack lifting or my Attribute Distribution practice, which I still did alone, but they patiently worked with me on my throwing technique. Yugao corrected my grip and release timing ("Snap your wrist here," she'd demonstrate), Hayate adjusted my stance and weight transfer, and slowly, very slowly, my accuracy began to improve.

Eventually, a week or so in, I stopped hiding my physical-conditioning, and they inevitably saw my unconventional weight training methods – the sack of rocks was hard to miss when I was using it for general conditioning before we started throwing practice. Hayate mostly just raised an eyebrow the first time but didn't comment, probably figuring it was just another eccentricity. Yugao, however, had looked distinctly concerned.

"Yuuki, are you sure that's… safe?" she'd asked, frowning as she watched me struggle to lift the sack onto my shoulder. "That looks incredibly heavy. You could really hurt yourself doing that." The girl clearly cared, even if she tried to mask it behind a typically stoic expression.

"It's fine," I'd assured her, setting the sack down with a grunt. "It works."

And it did work. The results spoke for themselves. The rate of physical growth was honestly absurd compared to my previous life. This new body, likely aided by the constant passive circulation of chakra and fueled by sheer hard work, responded incredibly well to the intense strain. I loved it! The feeling of getting stronger, faster, more durable almost daily was addictive.

Though, admittedly, the sheer intensity – hours spent lifting heavy rocks, pushing my body to its absolute limit day after day… maybe I was becoming a bit of a training addict.

The following week in the Academy, Midori-sensei formally introduced the next stage of practical chakra control.

"Alright class, settle down," she instructed, standing before us with a small basket filled with fresh leaves. "We've discussed chakra theory, but theory is useless without application. Today, we begin the most fundamental exercise for developing control: the leaf concentration practice."

She walked around, handing each student a single green leaf. "The goal," she explained, holding one up, "is to focus a small, constant stream of chakra to the surface of your skin – in this case, your forehead – creating enough adhesive force to hold the leaf in place. This requires precise control and sustained focus. It sounds simple, but it is the bedrock upon which more complex chakra manipulation is built."

She demonstrated, effortlessly sticking the leaf to her own forehead. "Take your time. Feel your chakra, draw it out, and concentrate it. Begin."

A low murmur filled the room as students awkwardly tried to position the leaves and close their eyes in concentration. Most leaves immediately fluttered to the desks or the floor. I watched for a moment, then picked up my own leaf.

Channeling the chakra was second nature now. The warmth flowed easily up to my forehead, and the leaf stuck firmly on the first try. I held it there for a few seconds, then deliberately cut the flow, letting the leaf drift down onto my desk. I put on a slight frown, mimicking the frustration evident on the faces around me. This feels ridiculous, holding back like this, I thought. But better than answering questions I don't want to answer. I repeated the process a few times – stick, hold briefly, drop, look mildly annoyed.

After about fifteen minutes of collective struggle, a small gasp came from a few desks away. Kurenai Yuhi sat perfectly still, her eyes tightly closed, brow furrowed in concentration. A leaf trembled slightly on her forehead, then held steady. She kept it there for a good ten seconds before opening her eyes, a small, pleased smile touching her lips as the leaf finally detached.

"Excellent, Kurenai!" Midori-sensei praised warmly. "Perfect focus and control. Everyone, see? It is possible with concentration. Keep practicing." Kurenai flushed slightly at the praise, while several other students looked on with a mixture of admiration and renewed determination.

Several days passed. Each day included dedicated time for practicing the leaf sticking exercise. Gradually, more students started achieving success, holding the leaf for longer durations. Hayate managed it consistently after the second day, and even Anko, despite her impatience, eventually got it through sheer stubbornness. I continued to feign moderate difficulty, ensuring I could keep the leaf stuck for a decent period if called upon, but never holding it for excessive lengths or showing off the running-while-sticking skill I'd already mastered privately. Midori-sensei seemed satisfied with the class's overall progress.

Then, satisfied that a sufficient baseline of chakra control had been established across the class, she moved on to our first practical ninjutsu lesson.

"Now that you're beginning to grasp basic chakra flow and concentration," Midori-sensei announced one afternoon, "we move to the first of the fundamental Academy techniques: the Transformation Jutsu, or Henge no Jutsu."

She formed a series of hand seals – Dog, Boar, Ram – slowly, deliberately, so we could follow. "These seals help shape and mold your chakra. The Henge allows you to alter your appearance, taking on the form of another person, animal, or even an inanimate object. Observe." With the final Ram seal, there was a soft poof of smoke, and standing where Midori-sensei had been was a perfect replica of the Third Hokage, albeit slightly shorter. Another poof, and she was back to normal.

"Mastering this requires not only chakra control but also a clear mental image of your target form," she explained. "Practice the seals first."

We spent the next portion of the class clumsily trying to replicate the hand seals. My fingers felt thick and uncooperative initially. Boar... Dog... Ram... dammit, start again. After several frustrating attempts, I finally managed the sequence smoothly. It required a surprising amount of finger dexterity.

‘Maybe I should attach some rocks to my fingers?’ I snort in amusement at that thought.

"Alright, now try to channel your chakra while forming the seals," Midori-sensei instructed. "Focus on a simple target for now – perhaps myself."

I went through the seals, focusing chakra, picturing Midori-sensei. Poof! Smoke cleared, and I looked down at my hands – they were hers, but the clothes I wore were still my own, and when I glanced at a reflective window, my face flickered unstably between mine and hers. A flawed transformation. I let it drop with another puff of smoke. Looking around, I saw similar results – transformations that were incomplete, flickering, or comically inaccurate. One boy had managed to turn his head into a perfect replica of the desk in front of him, while the rest of his body remained unchanged, drawing stifled laughter from nearby students.

Midori-sensei walked among us, offering corrections. "Clearer mental image, Kenji! You need to visualize the entire form. Yuuki, more stable chakra flow. Don't rush the molding process."

As we continued practicing, Anko, a few seats away, suddenly transformed into a near-perfect, sneering copy of me for a brief moment, shooting me a challenging look before letting the Henge drop with a smug poof.

Midori-sensei noticed Anko's transformation and subsequent smirk immediately. "Anko," she said, her voice sharp, stopping beside her desk. "While your Henge is improving, using it to taunt classmates is unproductive. Focus on refining the technique, not on pointless displays." Anko just rolled her eyes slightly but didn't retort, looking away.

Midori-sensei shook her head slightly and then turned away, walking over to help Ibiki Morino near the front, who seemed to be struggling intensely with the hand seals, his fingers knotted awkwardly. Seeing my opportunity, while the teacher's back was turned and her attention focused on Ibiki, I quickly formed the seals again: Dog, Boar, Ram. This time, I focused my mental image squarely on Anko.

Poof!

The smoke cleared, and for a brief moment, an identical copy of Anko Mitarashi stood where I had been. Before the real Anko, still slightly sulking from the scolding, could fully process the sudden duplicate, my transformed self raised a hand and sharply flipped her off, mirroring the same sneering expression she'd worn moments before.

Anko's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed furiously, her mouth opening as if to yell. But before she could make a sound, and before Midori-sensei finished helping Ibiki and turned back around, I dropped the Henge with another silent poof, returning to my own form and adopting an expression of mild concentration, as if I'd just been focusing on the exercise the whole time.

Petty? I thought, feeling a sliver of satisfaction. Maybe. But I wasn't going to just sit here and take shit from a kid, canon character or not. Anko continued to glare daggers at me for the rest of the lesson, her face flushed with anger, but she didn't try anything else.

Midori-sensei, finishing with Ibiki, addressed the class again. "Don't be discouraged. The Henge takes practice. But it is essential – vital for infiltration, gathering information without revealing your identity, or creating a diversion for escape. Keep working at it."

A few days later, at the end of a particularly rigorous Bukijutsu session focused on rapid shuriken throwing, Midori-sensei dismissed the class. We'd been practicing hitting multiple moving targets, and while my accuracy wasn't perfect, it was a marked improvement from where I'd started weeks ago. The pointers from Hayate and Yugao, combined with my own diligent practice, were paying off.

"Class dismissed," Midori-sensei announced. "Remember to practice the accuracy drills. Yuuki, a moment, please."

I paused as the other students filed out, heading towards the next lesson or lunch. Hayate and Yugao gave me questioning looks, but I just shrugged slightly. Once the training ground was mostly empty, Midori-sensei turned to me, her expression neutral but her eyes holding a certain intensity.

"Your scores in today's throwing exercises showed significant improvement, Yuuki," she began, reviewing her clipboard briefly. "Your accuracy and speed are much better than when we started. It's clear you've been putting in considerable effort outside of class hours."

"Thank you, Sensei," I replied simply.

She nodded. "Your physical conditioning continues to advance rapidly, and the drive you displayed against Mitarashi... it's clear you possess a strong determination. The village needs shinobi with that kind of resolve, especially now." She paused, her gaze direct. "Your path may differ from the standard Academy progression, Yuuki. If you find yourself needing guidance or resources beyond what the regular curriculum offers, within reason, feel free to ask. Consider it... an investment in potential."

This was the opening. "Actually, Sensei," I said, taking the chance, "there was something. I've been thinking... taijutsu is essential, but I feel like having skill with a weapon, something beyond projectiles, would be beneficial. I was wondering about kenjutsu... specifically, maybe starting with a wakizashi?"

Midori-sensei didn't look surprised, merely thoughtful. She tapped the clipboard lightly. "Kenjutsu is a demanding discipline, requiring dedication equal to, if not greater than, taijutsu. But yes, for someone with your physical aptitude, it could be a viable path. However," she added firmly, "I can't simply hand an Academy student a live blade like a wakizashi. There are regulations, and more importantly, safety concerns. An untrained hand wielding steel is dangerous."

She met my gaze again. "But I can provide you with a proper training tool. Something to build the foundation. A bokken – a hardwood sword, weighted and balanced to simulate the feel of steel. Master the basics with this." She made a decisive nod. "I'll have one for you tomorrow morning before classes."

My eyes widened slightly. "Thank you, Sensei! That would be..."

"Hold your thanks," she interrupted mildly. "This isn't a gift; it's a tool and a test. Show me dedication with it. Practice the stances, the basic cuts, the blocks. Demonstrate real progress, show me you can build upon a foundation with discipline, and I won't hesitate to sign the necessary authorizations for you to acquire a proper wakizashi when the time is right."

She added one final piece of advice. "Also, talk to Gekko and Uzuki. Their families," she noted, "have strong traditions in kenjutsu, dating back generations. They might offer insights the standard drills cannot. Learn from your peers when you can."

"Yes, Sensei. I understand. Thank you," I said again, bowing slightly this time.

So connections and catching the teacher's eye do open doors here, just like anywhere else, I noted internally, a pragmatic acknowledgment rather than surprise. This was a significant opportunity.

"Good," Midori-sensei concluded. "Now get to your next class."

True to her word, the next morning before the first bell, Midori-sensei handed me a carefully wrapped object. It was heavier than I expected, the shape distinctly that of a short sword.

"Here," she said simply. Along with the wrapped sword, she also handed me a thin scroll tied with a plain cord. "This outlines the fundamental stances and basic cutting forms for the standard Leaf kenjutsu style. It assumes a katana, but the principles apply. Focus on these first. Master the basics before attempting anything complex."

"Thank you, Sensei," I said, taking both items.

"Report your progress," she instructed, before turning and heading towards her classroom.

Later that evening, after Academy classes were long finished and the sun began its descent, I made my way to the designated training ground. Finding my usual secluded spot, I carefully unwrapped the package. It was a bokken, yes, but shaped and sized like a wakizashi – a shorter, slightly curved wooden blade, solid and perfectly balanced. It felt good in my hand, the smooth hardwood familiar yet new.

I unrolled the scroll. It depicted basic stances – low guards, high guards, striking postures – along with diagrams showing the trajectories for simple downward cuts, upward cuts, and horizontal slashes. The diagrams were clear, illustrating the proper footwork and body rotation for each movement.

I didn't technically need the scroll. The knowledge from [Train the Slayer] was already there, ingrained in my muscle memory. But it made sense for Midori-sensei to provide it; from her perspective, I was a complete beginner. Glancing through the diagrams, I confirmed the stances and basic cuts shown were indeed the universal fundamentals, identical to those I already knew instinctively. This wasn't some unique, advanced style; it was the essential groundwork. The perk hadn't granted any esoteric breathing styles or supernatural techniques, just solid, practical swordsmanship basics.

With the bokken in hand, I cycled through the stances illustrated in the scroll and echoed in my memory. Chūdan-no-kamae (middle guard), Gedan-no-kamae (low guard), Jōdan-no-kamae (high guard). The movements felt natural, yet holding the physical wooden wakizashi required slight adjustments compared to the mental image of wielding a full katana. A wakizashi, while capable of being used with two hands, was often wielded single-handedly, favoring speed and agility. Some of the two-handed power stances felt slightly different with the shorter grip, requiring subtle shifts in balance and weight distribution.

Still, the core principles remained the same. I took a deep breath, focusing. I started with the most basic downward cut, kiriotoshi, against a sturdy wooden training post. I raised the bokken, focused on my form, and brought it down in a clean arc.

Thwack!

The sound of solid wood hitting solid wood echoed faintly in the evening air. The impact vibrated up my arm. It wasn't perfect – a slight wobble on the follow-through, perhaps – but it was a start. I reset my stance and prepared for the next cut, the faint scent of disturbed earth and cooling air surrounding me as I began my practice in earnest, the foundation of kenjutsu finally taking physical form.

I finally lowered the wooden wakizashi, my arm muscles trembling with fatigue. An hour of practicing basic cuts and stances, even with a wooden weapon, was surprisingly taxing after my earlier workout. Sweat dripped down my temples, and my breathing was still slightly heavy. Alright, that's enough for tonight, I decided, rolling my stiff shoulders. Time to head back, shower, maybe try and get even better at the Henge again before bed.

I slid the bokken back into the simple cloth wrapping Midori-sensei had provided and turned to leave the secluded corner of the training ground, stepping out from the partial cover of the trees. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint sounds of chirping crickets and distant village activity.

Suddenly, my enhanced hearing, honed by [Train the Slayer], picked up anomalies amidst the ambient noise. A sharp, distinct creak of stressed wood from a thick branch directly overhead and slightly behind me. Almost simultaneously, the specific, crisp rustle of multiple leaves being displaced in a tight cluster. Not the wind.

Threat. Above. Behind. The ingrained alertness flashed through my mind, overriding the fatigue.

Instinctively, even as my muscles screamed in protest, I shifted my attributes. A purely mental command, bypassing the visualizer. Strength plummeted as I dumped those points into Agility and, desperately needing the energy boost, Stamina. The shift slammed through me in just over a second – a familiar draining sensation followed by a surge of lightness and renewed vitality.

Not a moment too soon.

Just as the attribute shift settled, a dark shape detached itself from the branch above. Anko dropped silently, launching herself downwards in a vicious flying kick aimed squarely at the back of my head.

But I wasn't there.

Fueled by the surge of Agility, I spun low and diagonally forward, a blur of motion. Anko's heel slashed through empty air, and she landed with a heavy thud on the packed earth where I had been standing less than two seconds before, stumbling slightly to regain her balance.

I straightened up a few feet away, turning to face her. She whirled around, her initial look of surprise quickly morphing into familiar frustration and aggression.

"How did you–?!" she started, then cut herself off with a growl. "Doesn't matter! I told you I'd get my rematch!" She crouched, dropping instantly into the Leaf Style's basic fighting stance, eyes narrowed, clearly ready for a fight.

I just sighed, the sound louder than I intended in the quiet evening. The boost from the redistributed Stamina kept the worst of the exhaustion at bay, but mentally, I was just… done. Done with the training, done with the Academy drama, and particularly done with her relentless challenges. I ran a hand over my face, feeling the grime and sweat.

"Anko," I said, my voice flat, devoid of any energy or interest. "Seriously? Not now. I'm tired, I'm heading home. Go bother someone else."

"You don't get a choice," Anko snarled, dismissing my words entirely.

She didn't wait for a response, launching herself forward again. Her attack was a flurry of punches aimed high, trying to force me back. Thanks to the Agility boost, dodging the initial blows wasn't difficult. I leaned back, slipped left, weaved right, letting her fists cut through the air around my head and shoulders. Her movements were fast, aggressive, fueled by frustration, but predictable.

However, even with the Stamina enhancement counteracting my earlier fatigue, I could feel the energy drain. Pure evasion was costly. Each dodge, each shift of weight, each quick burst of movement chipped away at my reserves. This wasn't like the spar in class; this was after hours of intense physical exertion. I couldn't keep this up indefinitely just dodging like last time. Plus, frankly, I'd had enough of her antics. It was time to end this.

Anko threw a hard right cross. Instead of just slipping outside it, I ducked under the punch, letting it pass over my head. As her arm extended, leaving her momentarily open, I saw my opening and decided dodging wasn't cutting it anymore. It was time to hit back.

As I exploded upwards and inwards from my crouched position, driving off my rear foot to close the distance, I performed another rapid, thought-based attribute shift. With a mental command, I pulled a significant chunk of points back from Agility – I didn't need maximum dodging speed for this close-in strike – and dumped them into Strength. Not everything, I didn't want to risk seriously injuring her, I could maybe even make her cough up blood given my current conditioning, but I sent just enough to make the blow decisive and painful. The familiar draining/surging sensation flickered through me for an instant, my frame feeling momentarily denser, more powerful.

My right hand shot out, fueled by the sudden boost in Strength, connecting as a sharp palm-heel strike aimed squarely at her solar plexus. The impact landed with a solid, emphatic thud.

Anko's eyes went wide in shock and pain, all the air rushing out of her lungs in a choked gasp. The added force behind the blow clearly registered. Her aggressive momentum vanished instantly, her body folding forward involuntarily as the strike stole her breath and momentarily paralyzed her diaphragm. Her attack ceased completely, her arms dropping limply to her sides.

I didn't follow up. There was no need. She staggered back a step, clutching her stomach, wheezing desperately, unable to draw a proper breath. The fight, such as it was, was definitively over.

Anko remained hunched over, still struggling to catch her breath, but glared up at me through watering eyes.

"How… how the fuck are you so strong?" she managed to grit out between gasps, teeth clenched against the lingering pain and frustration.

"I train," I replied, the exhaustion evident in my voice. I couldn't muster much else.

"So do I!" she yelled back, her voice cracking, tears visibly stinging at the corners of her eyes now. "Every day! Hard!"

I sighed again, the sound heavy this time. Ugh. Okay, she was annoying. A genuinely shitty, annoying kid who ambushed people after training. But she was still just a kid. A frustrated, likely insecure kid who just got completely shut down after thinking she had the upper hand. My initial annoyance softened, replaced by a weary sense of… responsibility? Maybe just pragmatism. Antagonizing her constantly wasn't productive.

"Look," I started, rubbing my temples. "I know you train hard, Anko. I see it in class, and clearly you put in time outside of it too." I hesitated, choosing my next words carefully. "My training… it's different. Maybe a little excessive."

She looked up, still wary, but the immediate hostility lessened slightly, replaced by curiosity.

"If you really want to know," I continued, deciding on the spot, "then stop ambushing me like an idiot. If you want to see how I train, you're welcome to join me sometime. Tomorrow morning, maybe. See the actual effort that goes into it. It's not magic, it's just… a lot of work." I shrugged. "Maybe you'll pick something up. Or maybe you'll decide I'm just crazy."

Anko stared at me for a long moment, breathing the evening out slightly, processing the unexpected offer. The glare softened further, her expression becoming guarded, uncertain. She seemed to wrestle internally for a moment. Finally, she looked away, down at the ground, avoiding my eyes.

"...Fine," she mumbled, the word barely audible. She shuffled her feet awkwardly. "...Sorry... about jumping you," she added, even quieter, still not looking at me.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Okay," I said simply. "Tomorrow morning then. Training Ground Four, six AM. Don't be late." I turned to leave, finally heading towards my apartment, leaving her standing alone in the rapidly darkening training field.