Seeing Aoba accept the scrolls, Yuhi gave an approving nod, and the atmosphere relaxed considerably.
For the most part, Kurenai Yuhi did the talking while Aoba listened.
His advice mainly covered essential pointers regarding the Ninja Academy, allowing Kurenai Yuhi to finally follow along with some of the conversation.
She thoroughly envied the way Aoba could converse with her father, even if she rarely understood what the two of them were actually discussing.
More than anything, she wished her father would treat her the same way instead of always treating her like a little kid.
Especially now that she was about to enter the Academy—a milestone she had looked forward to for so long.
Her father had always told her that once she enrolled, she would no longer be an ordinary child.
Having spent plenty of time around her, Aoba could easily guess what was running through Kurenai’s head.
It was completely normal behavior for a child her age.
On any other day, he might have teased her a bit, but today was different.
Uncle Shinku was sharing genuine, invaluable wisdom.
The Ninja Academy was, after all, an institution built to train shinobi.
And “shinobi” was merely a polite term for killers.
How could a place designed to forge tools of slaughter waste its time teaching useless things?
The anime might have depicted the Academy as little more than a glorified kindergarten, but that was largely just to move the plot along.
In truth, the Academy was the easiest and safest place for ordinary people to learn and master the art of being a shinobi.
Uncle Shinku broke down which subjects took priority, which were secondary, how different skills applied to various battlefield scenarios, how theory had to be paired with practical application, and more.
It gave Aoba a clear, coherent framework for his upcoming studies.
Kurenai Yuhi truly treated him like family—not only entrusting him with ninjutsu scrolls, but personally mentoring him on how to tackle his schooling.
This was the unmistakable advantage of having an experienced elder in one’s corner: the privilege of inherited clan knowledge.
It was just like choosing a college major back on Earth after the national entrance exams.
If you headed down the wrong path, wasting a few years was the least of your problems; you could easily ruin your entire life.
“Uncle Shinku, I’ll head back and get ready, then.”
Having gained so much from the conversation, Aoba felt it was time to wrap things up and stood to take his leave.
Kurenai Yuhi set down his teacup and nodded gently.
“Huh?
Aoba…
Big Brother, aren’t you staying for dinner?”
Sitting nearby, Kurenai blinked in surprise.
Normally, Aoba would stay to share a meal with them.
“Not tonight, Kurenai.
My classes start tomorrow, too, and I haven’t prepared anything yet.
Besides, I still need to make arrangements for the shop,” Aoba explained with a warm smile.
With that, he pulled another hawthorn candy from his pocket and offered it to her.
Kurenai’s face lit up instantly as she happily took it.
Chuckling, Aoba reached out, ruffled her hair, and said his goodbyes before stepping out into the evening.
* * *
Late that night, before going to bed.
Aoba double-checked his ninja tool pouch and school supplies once more before retrieving the wooden box Uncle Shinku had entrusted to him.
Unrolling the scrolls across his desk, he inspected them one by one.
Though there were quite a few, most consisted of supplementary training regimens, research notes, and personal insights.
There were only four actual ninjutsu recorded within:
[Great Fireball Technique], [Mind Reading Technique], [Body Flicker Technique], and [Ninja Beast・Summoning Technique].
Sure enough, it was just as he had suspected—these were all techniques the original Aoba Yamashiro was known for in the canon.
Aoba’s circumstances were remarkably fortunate.
At the very least, he had inherited the training scrolls left behind by his parents.
When most civilian shinobi perished on the battlefield, their families received little more than a modest condolence payout.
With the previous generation’s records to build on, one could bypass countless blind alleys and lethal mistakes.
As long as the next generation possessed the same chakra natures and wasn’t entirely brainless, avoiding those past pitfalls would allow them to take that foundation even further.
The original Aoba Yamashiro hadn’t been introduced as a Tokubetsu Jonin for nothing.
The throng of shinobi who fought the reanimated Second Mizukage during the Fourth Shinobi World War was a far more accurate representation of the average ninja.
Armed with a technique or two that might not even hit their mark, relying on thrown ninja tools for actual lethality, and possessing taijutsu that could only keep pace with peers of equal rank, they were essentially expendable fodder on the battlefield.
Such was the grim reality of the common shinobi.
The scrolls Uncle Shinku had provided followed a similar structure: the principles, casting, and defense against genjutsu, accompanied by two specific techniques: [Genjutsu・Release] and the D-rank [Demonic Illusion・Hell Viewing Technique].
Both were exceedingly practical.
Aoba picked up a scroll and unfurled it.
Rather than practicing immediately, however, his first step was to record the data.
*System, initiate scan,* Aoba commanded in his mind.
[Beep!
Task created.
Commencing scan.]
[New ninjutsu data detected.
Creating new file…]
[Scanning host data.
Simulating ninjutsu effects…]
[…]
As the auxiliary chip began operating, Aoba could distinctly feel the chakra in his body draining at a rapid pace.
His chakra reserves weren’t overwhelmingly vast, but they weren’t small either; they far surpassed those of any typical kid his age.
Much of that was thanks to his physical stature, which stood head and shoulders above his peers.
Seven years old, and already one hundred and forty centimeters tall.
He was nearly as tall as the upperclassmen at the Academy.
And that was with him actively refraining from refining chakra; had he trained it regularly, his reserves would have been even greater.
The only time he had ever extracted chakra was before awakening his past-life memories, and he had not refined a single drop since.
Aside from not wanting to exhaust his developing body prematurely, deep down, he harbored a lingering aversion to chakra itself.
Anyone familiar with the original story knew that chakra was an alien import—one rigged with a built-in backdoor, leaving its wielders naturally subdued by the Otsutsuki clan.
Having transmigrated into a native body, he naturally wanted to explore this world’s indigenous power instead.
Natural energy!
Turns out, transmigration novels were full of lies.
Over the past two years, Aoba had tried seated meditation, clearing his thoughts, and emptying his mind, yet he couldn’t sense a single speck of natural energy.
Even with the chip dampening portions of his physical senses, the result remained a flat zero.
As for the canon claim that one required massive chakra reserves just to sense natural energy, Aoba scoffed at the idea.
Before the Otsutsuki ever descended upon the ninja world, indigenous supernatural traditions had existed and functioned perfectly well on their own.
If anything, the invasion of chakra had caused those native systems to collapse, simply because chakra was far easier to wield.
Aoba theorized that perceiving natural energy required either a specialized constitution—like Jugo’s—or enough raw chakra to generate a siphoning or osmosis-like effect to pull it inward.
Of course, those were hypotheses he would have to test slowly in the days ahead.
Before long, his chakra depleted to a predetermined threshold, and the chip powered down.
This was a safety limit Aoba had preprogrammed to prevent the chip from over-draining his chakra and inflicting physical harm.
The stopping point was just right.
He packed away the scrolls, switched off the light, and went to bed.
Moments later, Aoba drifted peacefully into dreamland.
An hour passed.
Outside the house, a treetop swayed softly in the night breeze, and two leaves drifted slowly toward the ground…
* * *
The following morning, Aoba woke promptly at the chip’s chime.
After a brief stretch, he washed up, changed into fresh clothes, and made his way to the Yuhi residence.
“Good morning, Aoba-kun.”
“Good morning, Aunt Nadeshiko.”
Returning the greeting, Aoba turned toward Kurenai and raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.
“Morning, Kurenai.
Look at you—actually awake on time today.”
Kurenai puffed out her chest with immense pride.
“Starting today, I’m an Academy student and a real shinobi!
Don’t you dare look down on me, *Classmate* Aoba.”
“Right, right, Classmate Kurenai Yuhi.
Or should I say, *Lady* Shinobi Kurenai Yuhi?” Aoba nodded with exaggerated solemnity.
“Hmph!
You jerk, Aoba…”