Date: September 6th, Year 59 of the Hidden Leaf Calendar
Location: Konoha, Fire Country
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Chapter 2: The D-Class Gambit
The Academy classroom smelled like chalk and pencil shavings.
The air was heavy with nervous energy—young hopefuls twitching in their seats, half-afraid, half-excited, scratching their names into the worn wooden desks. A boy in the far back was chewing on his sleeve. Another was already asleep. Someone near the front kept glancing over their shoulder, eyes twitching toward the door.
Haru Otomi—once known as Stalin, now draped in the identity of a Konoha-born child—sat quietly. His posture was calm, but inside, his mind whirled like a chakra storm.
"D3…" he muttered under his breath, glancing at the schedule paper again. "Well. That's not promising."
But he knew better than to assume. Konoha wasn't a meritocracy, not in the pure sense. The Academy wasn't just about skill—it was politics, clan reputation, bloodline, and something else... something like fate.
"Otomi Haru?"
The voice belonged to a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a clipboard. "That's you, right?"
Haru nodded, rising as the man motioned to the back row.
"Sit next to Inari. Don't cause trouble."
Inari? Haru's eyebrow twitched. The name rang distant bells—wasn't there a kid in Naruto who lost his father and became all moody in the Wave Arc? Couldn't be the same. This boy had thick black hair and arms crossed in childish defiance.
Haru slipped into the seat beside him, forcing a faint smile. "Hey."
Inari grunted.
Well, alright then.
---
Ten Minutes Later:
The chalk tapped against the blackboard.
"Today," began their history teacher, a tired woman with crow's feet and a voice like sandpaper, "we begin with the Founding Wars. Who can tell me which clans formed the original Leaf alliance?"
Someone in the front mumbled, "Senju and Uchiha?"
"Correct. And what was the key treaty signed between them?"
Silence.
Haru's hand twitched. He knew this. He remembered this from the anime, sure—but the faces in the room, the dull blank stares, reminded him: this wasn't a trivia game. These were kids born into this world. They'd lived through the aftershocks of war. Some had seen blood already. Some would see it again.
"...The Leaf Accord," he said, voice calm.
The teacher blinked. "Correct. Full name?"
He paused. "The Fire Country Shinobi Unification and Peace Doctrine... signed at the Valley of the End."
The teacher's gaze lingered on him a second longer than necessary. "Hmm. Well read."
Someone behind him muttered something. He ignored it.
---
Lunchtime
The bento was too perfect.
Three neatly stacked rows. Rolled egg. Rice shaped like little frogs. Carrots cut into stars. It felt like a betrayal to eat it.
He sat under the wide branches of a willow tree just past the courtyard, watching the sun drift lazily through leaves. His chakra was still quiet… buried deep in a body not yet used to molding it. He could feel the coils, but they hadn't opened yet.
He needed to trigger it soon. But how?
A flash of movement caught his eye.
A boy with white eyes and an arrogant walk was surrounded by a few other students—none dared to get too close, and Neji Hyuga didn't look interested in them anyway. He was already a little prince among brats, cool and untouchable.
"Definitely not ready to join any team yet," Haru murmured. "But still... That's raw power."
Another voice cut through the thoughts. Cheerful, loud, completely unbothered.
"Hey! You're the smart guy from history class!"
Haru turned. A small girl with too many freckles and a dangerous lack of boundaries plopped down next to him.
"I'm Sayuri! You didn't say your name."
"Haru."
She grinned. "Cool. You eatin' that frog rice?"
"…Yes."
She tilted her head. "Want to come spar after lunch? There's a bunch of boys from C1 and B2 who keep saying our class is full of rejects. I told 'em I'd bring someone who could whoop 'em."
Haru narrowed his eyes.
"You picked a fight already?"
"No. I volunteered you."
---
Afternoon: The Schoolyard Duel
There was something deliciously violent about watching overconfident brats get thrown into dirt.
Sayuri was a whirlwind of elbows and reckless enthusiasm. She got tossed once, hard. But she got up laughing.
Haru's own opponent—a smug boy from B2—came in swinging wildly. Haru ducked, stepped in, and let his forehead crack lightly into the boy's nose. Not enough to break it. Just enough to bleed.
A teacher watched from the academy porch, arms crossed. He didn't intervene.
Afterwards, Sayuri was grinning ear to ear. "You're gonna be my teammate."
"You don't get to choose," Haru said flatly.
"Oh, I will."
---
Nightfall
The Otomi household was quiet.
His mother—no, the woman who thought she was his mother—had cooked miso and steamed sweet potato. She asked about his day. He lied softly, kindly. She smiled and said she was proud.
That night, under a blue blanket, staring at the wood ceiling, Haru pressed two fingers to his stomach, just below the navel.
He breathed deep.
Focused.
And tried again.
"Feel it… Come on."
Then he felt it the warm trickling of chakra as he practiced and he continued to meditate and slowly guided with beads of sweat from his forward towards his center of stomach as he manipulate the chakra to swirle and refined it continuesly... Time passed and before he knew it it was already passed 12 in the night and he blinked his eyes in tiredness.
A yawn escaped from his uncoucscousely and he stiffened it before graping his blanket and closing his eyes, he made plants to practice with the leaf chakra control and tree climbing tomorrow.