Early in the morning, before I was officially discharged, I stood in my hospital room executing strange, flowing movements.
It looked vaguely like the Hyuga style, but wasn’t.
And at some point, I caught a strange sense of harmony in my movements, and—as weird as it sounds—in the very air filling the room.
[Skill “Sphere Boundary” unlocked!] “Yes!” I reacted instantly, completely breaking my concentration.
Damn it.
Well, whatever.
At least now I could simply activate the skill instead of having to manually build up the correct state of mind.
Now I just needed to unlock the second skill I inherited from Li Shuwen.
Though, looking at the description for this one, I was already thoroughly impressed.
[Skill: Sphere Boundary (Active)] [A meditative technique that allows you to sense the precise conditions of your environment and, by adapting to them, minimize the footprint of your own existence.
Masters of this technique can render themselves completely invisible.
This ability is achieved exclusively through physical training and cannot be detected by those who can only dispel magical (chakra-based) invisibility.
Similar to the “Stealth” skill, it loses its invisibility effect the moment an attack is launched.
However, enemies unfamiliar with this technique will still only be able to dodge based on their own reflexes, talent, or experience; those without combat training will not even be able to sense your movements upon physical contact.
Effect: While active, damage dealt is multiplied by 1.5.
Effect: While active, your concealment reaches 98% (stacks with the Stealth skill).
You can only be detected by highly experienced fighters or Dojutsu users.
Detection condition for Byakugan: Active use.
Detection condition for Sharingan: Must possess at least a fully mature three-tomoe Sharingan.
Chakra Cost: 40 MP/sec.] The cost was steep, but at higher levels I’d probably be able to maintain it for hours, considering the reactor I had in my stomach and my own massive reserves.
For now, though, keeping it up for even a minute would drain me completely.
And it was best not to push myself to total exhaustion, given how closely tied life force and chakra were in this world.
“Alright, let’s keep going,” I muttered, slapping my cheeks.
I had time.
It was still an hour before morning rounds, and a full three hours before the Academy entrance exam.
I even had time to run home first.
I began pushing myself back into that state of mind.
I really liked how it felt, and anyway, this was meant to be practice for the martial arts style, not just grinding the skill.
After a while, I once again felt that strange sense of environmental harmony…
which, a short time later, was abruptly disrupted.
A sudden “wrongness” entered the room.
What the hell was that?
I glanced toward the source without turning my head, maintaining my forms.
Why hide it?
Anyone watching could clearly see these were just the very first, clumsy steps of a martial art.
If anyone asked, I’d just say I made it up.
I frequently spied on Academy students during their training, and after my recent encounter with foreign shinobi, I had “gathered new elements to incorporate and think about.” And it wouldn’t even be a lie—those shinobi were indirectly responsible for this.
Besides, I didn’t believe for a second I could keep my weird flailing a secret in a village full of ninja, even if I tried to train in stealth.
Almost immediately, I noticed the door slightly ajar and two faces peering through the crack.
Ah, there were my elements of disharmony.
“Saya, Aya, did you need something?” I asked, breaking my stance and noting a +1 increase to my AGI.
“Yes!
We wanted to say thank you!” they said, blushing slightly as they stepped into the room together.
“You said that already, didn’t you?
By the way, are you two enrolling this year as well?
Good luck on the exams,” I smiled slightly, trying to mimic canon Naruto’s trademark grin, just without stretching my lips quite as wide.
It seemed to work, judging by the soft ding of my relationship with each of them ticking up by half a percent.
Man, I’m never going to get used to this heart system.
“Thank you, you too!
And actually, there was one more thing we wanted to do,” they said.
Damn, twins speaking in unison is a lethal dose of kawaii.
It was actually a damn shame they were going to die relatively soon.
Hmm.
Was there any way I could interfere with the Uchiha Massacre?
How could I?
Should I even try?
Ugh, I’m going to have to crack my brain open trying to figure this out.
While I was lost in thought, the two girls stepped up on either side of me…
and I became the proud owner of two more fully pink hearts.
A synchronized kiss on the cheeks, successfully registered.
Very bold girls…
or at least they would have been, if they hadn’t immediately squeaked and bolted out of the room.
“Damn it.
Now I actually have to do something, or my conscience will eat me alive.
But how the hell am I going to pull that off?” I got so stuck on that thought that I went on complete autopilot.
I was discharged, walked home, grabbed a bite to eat, and even made it to the Academy.
I only finally snapped out of my daze when a massive stack of papers was slammed down on the desk in front of me.
Looking at the stack, my brain immediately hoisted a white flag.
Fortunately, the first few pages just asked for my name and surname, followed by a basic psychological evaluation.
Okay, I’d survive this.
It was presented very softly, perfectly tailored for kids.
After that, the questions got harder.
I did fine on the hard sciences, though my history knowledge was abysmal.
Still, I hoped I’d scraped together a passing grade.
But then I completely wiped out when I hit the shinobi-specific questions.
Unlike the clan kids, and even the civilian kids, I hadn’t received any preliminary education.
I’d seen other orphans being taken to prep courses twice a month.
It wasn’t much, but I hadn’t even been allowed that.
So, straining my memory to its absolute limits, I scraped together every bit of lore I remembered from books and canon to answer the tests.
Honestly, if I manage to not fail outright and actually get into the advanced class, it will definitively prove that Hiruzen is pulling strings behind the scenes.
Without his protection, there’s no way I’d pass based solely on my actual shinobi knowledge.
Man, it was actually kind of embarrassing.
I was going to have to seriously buckle down on my education.
That thought peaked during the final section of the written exam: Calligraphy.
I was an absolute zero.
I just didn’t have the inherited muscle memory for it.
No sealing arts ran in my blood!
The next phase was easier.
Ten Chunin were seated at the proctor’s desk—including the canon-familiar Mizuki and Iruka.
One of them called up the students who had finished the written test and made them place a hand on a glass orb.
The transparent orb would turn dull and fill with a specific color.
A scarlet color drew the biggest reaction from the surrounding teachers, so I figured that was a very good result.
Naturally, when I touched it, it flared scarlet…
and instantly drained a hundred points of Chakra from my pool like it was nothing.
Interestingly, not all the Chunin on the board sneered at me when I walked up.
Some of our teachers were actually tolerant.
After that, they let me go home, telling me they would drop off (!) the results within a couple of days.
Not bad.
But considering the neighborhood I lived in, it would be much better for me to wait outside my building and intercept the messenger.
If they didn’t find me and just left the envelope on my doorstep, I’d never see those results again.
They’d be stolen.
Not because I was the “demon brat,” but because it was a bad neighborhood and people stole literally anything that wasn’t nailed down.
Actually, I had practiced a bit of petty theft myself lately, though I hadn’t gone crazy with it.
I just wanted the corresponding skill; it could be useful later in life.
So far, no luck.
But then again, I didn’t get skills for every new action I performed right away.
So I’d keep grinding at it until something popped up.
Sigh.
My life would be so much less stressful if I actually knew the exact date the Uchiha were going to be attacked.
I’d been on pins and needles all day, and I suspected that this gross, heavy sense of anticipation was going to sit at the bottom of my consciousness until the tragedy actually started.
Damn it, if I just knew the exact timeframe, I could at least try to formulate an action plan.
Though honestly, right now, my plan was terrifyingly short: sit tight and don’t make a move.
That level of conflict was way above my paygrade.
It was a damn shame about the twins.
And their mom, too.