By day, the Ninja Academy was both a cradle for mediocrity and a stage for geniuses.
On the podium, the instructor droned on about Chakra nature transformation, their monotonous voice practically lulling the class to sleep.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, scattering mottled patches of light across the desks.
Seated in the back corner, Kazama Ryū kept his head lowered, black hair obscuring most of his face.
He looked withdrawn, as though still trapped in the shadow of his father’s death, completely detached from the lively atmosphere around him.
His grades had always been unremarkable—neither good nor bad.
He was the kind of student who worked hard but lacked talent: impossible to criticize, yet equally impossible to remember.
Out of the corner of his eye, he observed the classroom as if he were an outsider, calmly studying this miniature reflection of the ninja world.
The most eye-catching presence was undoubtedly Kakashi Hatake.
Even sitting quietly in his seat, the silver-haired boy was like a magnet, naturally drawing everyone’s attention.
He didn’t need to show off; the aura of a genius alone set him apart from the crowd.
Another center of attention revolved around Asuma Sarutobi, the Third Hokage’s son.
He laughed and chatted with Kurenai Yuhi, Shiranui Genma, and the others, surrounded by a loose circle of classmates, clearly enjoying the attention that came with his status.
There were also two members of the Uchiha clan in the class.
Aside from the out-of-place Obito, the other was Uchiha Onna, rumored to be the daughter of an influential figure within the clan.
She carried herself with cold arrogance, chin slightly raised, that natural air of superiority making her seem like the very image of an Uchiha.
Ryū’s gaze passed over them without lingering, his heart completely unmoved.
Geniuses?
The powerful?
To someone with the soul of an adult from another world, they were merely characters with better starting stats.
As for him—though he had been handed a miserable beginner account—he possessed a modifier called grinding.
Everyone had a future ahead of them.
When night fell, Kazama Ryū began his true training.
In the backyard of the Kazama home, the earth was soaked with sweat, giving off a damp, heavy scent.
This was Ryū’s real battlefield.
He removed his shirt, revealing a slender body that still carried traces of baby fat, yet already showed faint muscle definition.
There was no specialized equipment—only the most basic physical exercises.
Push-ups.
Squats.
Sit-ups.
With willpower far beyond his age, he forced his body again and again to squeeze out every last bit of potential, until his muscles screamed under the strain and sweat poured down him like rain.
“Hoo… hoo…” Ryū panted heavily, his chest rising and falling sharply.
He knew that Taijutsu training was just as important.
Physical conditioning directly affected the “container” that held Chakra, as well as its recovery speed.
After a brief rest, he sat cross-legged and began the most important part of his nightly routine—Chakra extraction.
Spiritual energy and physical energy merged within his body.
Threads of faint warmth were painstakingly separated and guided into his lower abdomen.
The process placed an enormous burden on his mind.
Before long, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him.
It was his body’s warning—today’s limit had been reached.
Pushing further wouldn’t be training; it would be self-harm, risking long-term damage to his foundation and future growth.
“That’s enough for today.” Ryū stopped decisively.
He understood better than anyone that even grinding required moderation.
Sustainable progress was the only correct path.
“Grrr…” The intense exertion made his stomach protest loudly.
When he returned inside, his mother, Misako, already had dinner prepared.
Watching Ryū devour his food at nearly twice his usual pace, worry filled her eyes.
“Ryū, eat more slowly—you’ll choke,” she said gently.
She then picked the meat from her own bowl and placed it into his, hesitating before asking softly, “Lately… is something troubling you?” She didn’t understand training.
All she knew was that since the funeral, her son had grown quiet—and his appetite had become alarmingly large.
“No, Mom,” Ryū replied vaguely through a mouthful of rice.
“I’m just growing, so I get hungry faster.” He didn’t dare meet her eyes.
The sorrow and concern mixed within them made his chest ache.
But he couldn’t stop.
That meager pension hung over him like a sword.
Without strength, even the simple act of eating a full meal in peace would become a luxury for him and his mother.
As the days passed, Ryū’s double life became second nature.
Late one night, a week later, Ryū once again squeezed out the last drop of Chakra in the backyard.
Just as his vision darkened and he was about to collapse— “Ding!” That long-awaited sound finally echoed in his mind.
“Chakra Extraction Technique leveled up!
Lv.1 (1/300)” In the next instant, a gentle, warm current appeared from nowhere, surging through his limbs and bones.
His nearly dried-up Chakra pool, like a parched riverbed suddenly fed by fresh water, began to recover at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The exhaustion vanished, replaced by an unprecedented sense of fullness.
Ryū clenched his fist, clearly feeling the increased upper limit of his Chakra and the dramatically improved recovery speed.
“Wow… my endurance has jumped!” He could train for longer now.
This certainty—that effort would always be rewarded—made his scalp tingle with exhilaration.
For a former corporate slave, the feeling was indescribably satisfying.
However, his near-maniacal training did not escape the notice of the neighbors.
“Hey, have you heard?
That kid from the Kazama family—he’s probably trained himself stupid after the shock.” “Exactly.
He barely talks at school, but at night he’s always making noise in the yard.” “Poor Misako, raising a child alone… it’s really not easy.” The gossip spread quickly, reaching not only the neighbors but also Misako’s ears.
She looked at her son’s quiet profile, wanting to say something but stopping herself.
In the end, she could only sigh and bury her worries deep in her heart.
Ryū ignored all of it.
Without hesitation, he poured his newly increased Chakra into practicing the Three Basic Jutsu.
“Clone Technique!” He formed the hand seals, and Chakra surged.
Poof.
A slightly blurry figure appeared beside him.
“Clone Technique proficiency +5!” As he watched the numbers jump again—Clone Technique: Lv.0 (95/100)—there was only one thing in Ryū’s eyes: Progress.
Other people’s opinions?
Neighborhood gossip?
In a world where survival was everything, none of that mattered in the slightest.