# Chapter Three: The Academy and the Art of Strategic Investment
The Konoha Academy smelled like chalk dust, sweat, and the particular brand of institutional cleaning solution used in government buildings across dimensions. Shingen stood in the courtyard with roughly forty other new students, most of them six years old, all of them eyeing each other with the wariness of children who'd been told they were training to kill people.
He'd spent the last two weeks in careful preparation. Morning runs to build stamina. Afternoon chakra control exercises. Evenings spent reviewing everything he could remember about the Naruto timeline from his previous life—which, admittedly, wasn't as much as he'd like.
He remembered the broad strokes: Uzumaki Naruto was the main character, had the Nine-Tails sealed inside him, would eventually become Hokage. Uchiha Sasuke was the brooding deuteragonist with a revenge boner. Haruno Sakura was… there. The Uchiha Massacre would happen when they were around eight. The Chunin Exams invasion would happen when they were twelve.
Everything else was fuzzy—names, techniques, exact plot points. Five years of being a child had eroded the specifics, leaving only impressions.
But impressions were enough. He knew the key players. He knew where the power would concentrate.
And he knew how to position himself to exploit it.
"Listen up!" A chunin instructor—different from Gekko Norio, this one with a scar across his nose and tired eyes—stood on the Academy steps. "I'm Umino Iruka, and I'll be one of your instructors. You'll be divided into three classes based on your assessment results. When I call your name, line up with your designated class."
Shingen half-listened as names were called, categorizing faces and clan affiliations automatically. There—a blonde kid with whisker marks and an orange jacket that was a crime against tactical camouflage. Uzumaki Naruto, looking exactly like his father and somehow nobody had figured it out. The Hyuuga girl with the shy demeanor—Hinata, probably. The Uchiha boy with hair like a duck's ass—
*Sasuke*.
Shingen studied him with predatory interest. Last loyal Uchiha, survivor of a genocide that would happen in three years, wielder of the Sharingan. Valuable. Dangerous. *Useful*.
"Yamazaki Shingen—Class A."
He moved to join the group forming on the left. Class A—the "advanced" students, primarily clan kids who'd been training since birth. He spotted Tokuma in the group, who immediately looked elsewhere when their eyes met. Delicious.
The blonde kid—definitely Naruto—got assigned to Class B. Most of the civilian children went to Class C.
Shingen had expected Class A. His assessment scores had been too good for anything else, even accounting for his age. What he hadn't expected was the girl who moved to stand beside him—pink hair, green eyes, and a forehead she kept trying to hide behind her bangs.
"Hi," she whispered, voice uncertain. "I'm Haruno Sakura. You're really young, aren't you?"
Shingen deployed Smile Configuration Eight—friendly but not overly enthusiastic. "Yamazaki Shingen. And yeah, I'm five. You?"
"Six." She fidgeted with her hands. "I'm… I'm not from a clan or anything. Are you?"
"Nope. Just a civilian kid who's good at tests." He studied her more carefully. Future member of Team Seven, trained by Tsunade, would develop monstrous strength. Currently: an insecure six-year-old trying to figure out where she fit.
*Potential long-term investment*, his instincts whispered. *Low immediate value, high future payoff if cultivated correctly.*
"Guess that makes us the odd ones out," he said, gesturing at the cluster of clan kids—Hyuuga, Inuzuka, Aburame, Akimichi. "All these bloodline limits and family techniques, and here we are with just our pretty faces."
Sakura giggled despite herself, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "We're not supposed to laugh at clan members."
"Why not? They laugh at us." Shingen kept his voice light, conversational. "But here's the thing, Sakura-chan—can I call you Sakura-chan?—they get to be born with advantages. We have to *earn* ours. That makes us scarier in the long run."
Her green eyes widened. "How?"
"Because we know how to work for things. They just expect to succeed because of their name." He paused, then added with theatrical conspiracy: "Plus, we're cuter. That's scientifically proven."
This time her laugh escaped, bright and genuine. Several clan kids turned to look, including Sasuke, who regarded them with the disdain of someone who'd been told his entire life that he was special.
*There's the arrogance*, Shingen thought. *Perfect.*
"Quiet down!" Iruka clapped his hands. "Class A, follow me. Classes B and C, your instructors will collect you shortly."
They filed into the Academy building, a structure that managed to be both utilitarian and vaguely traditional. The classroom had wooden desks arranged in ascending rows, large windows overlooking the training grounds, and a chalkboard covered in diagrams of hand seals.
Shingen chose a seat in the middle row—not front where the overachievers and suck-ups sat, not back where the troublemakers clustered. Middle allowed observation without drawing excessive attention.
Sakura sat beside him without asking. Interesting.
The seat to his other side remained empty for exactly three seconds before an Inuzuka boy with wild brown hair and red clan marks on his cheeks dropped into it, a small white puppy perched on his head.
"Yo," the boy said, grinning with too many teeth. "You're that kid who beat up Tokuma, right? That was hilarious."
"Beat up is strong phrasing," Shingen said blandly. "I tactically repositioned him to the ground and applied leverage."
The Inuzuka barked a laugh—literally barked, the sound more canine than human. "I like you. I'm Inuzuka Kiba. This is Akamaru." He gestured at the puppy, who yipped.
"Yamazaki Shingen." He studied Kiba—future member of Team Eight, tracking specialist, loyal to a fault. "Your dog is adorable. Does he bite?"
"Only if I tell him to. Or if you're an asshole." Kiba scratched Akamaru behind the ears. "You don't seem like an asshole. Weird as hell, but not an asshole."
"I appreciate the distinction."
Iruka began taking attendance, and Shingen pulled up his system interface, keeping it translucent enough to see through while monitoring his classmates.
**[Current GP: 2,150]**
He'd earned points steadily over the past two weeks through daily quests and a few "Significant Actions"—including convincing his uncle to teach him about poisons (sorry, *medicinal herbs*) and successfully pickpocketing a chunin's weapon pouch at the market without getting caught. That last one had been pure impulse, testing his skills, and had netted him 400 GP for the achievement.
The chunin had noticed three hours later. Shingen had returned the pouch the next day with an innocent "I found this on the ground, sir!" and gotten 200 GP for successfully executing a theft and return without suspicion.
2,150 GP. Not enough for an Epic pull (2,000 GP, but he'd need the remaining points for daily expenses). But enough for four Rare pulls or twenty-one Common pulls.
The question was: what did he need?
His current build was heavy on manipulation and chakra control, light on actual combat capability. The fight with Tokuma had proven he could win through tactics, but against a skilled opponent—or worse, multiple opponents—he'd get destroyed.
He needed combat skills. Jutsu. Something that would let him hold his own while his intelligence and manipulation abilities did the heavy lifting.
*Tonight*, he decided. *After I scope out the competition here, I'll do a pull. Maybe two Rares—increase the chances of getting something useful.*
"—and that's the curriculum overview," Iruka was saying. "We'll cover chakra theory, basic taijutsu, academy three jutsu, history, tactics, and weapon training. Questions?"
A Hyuuga girl—not Hinata, someone from a branch family based on the forehead protector—raised her hand. "Sensei, when do we learn clan-specific techniques?"
"Clan techniques are taught by your families, Hyuuga-san. The Academy focuses on foundational skills that all shinobi need." Iruka's expression softened slightly. "Though we do have supplementary training sessions for those who want additional practice. They're optional but recommended."
Shingen's hand shot up.
"Yes, Yamazaki-kun?"
"Sensei, you mentioned tactics. Will that include mission planning, intelligence gathering, and infiltration techniques?"
Iruka blinked. "That's… advanced material, usually covered in later years. But yes, basic tactical theory is part of the curriculum. May I ask why you're interested?"
Shingen deployed Smile Configuration Twelve—earnest intellectual curiosity. "Because I'm terrible at taijutsu, sensei. I'm the smallest kid here, and I don't have a bloodline limit. So I figured I should focus on being *smart* instead of *strong*. Work with what I've got, you know?"
Several students snickered. Sasuke's expression suggested he'd just confirmed something distasteful.
But Iruka's eyes held something else—recognition, maybe even approval. "That's… actually very mature thinking, Yamazaki-kun. Self-awareness is an important shinobi trait. Yes, we'll cover tactics extensively."
"Thank you, sensei!"
Kiba leaned over and whispered: "You really are weird. Most kids want to learn cool jutsu, and you're asking about *thinking*."
"Most kids are idiots," Shingen whispered back, then added with a manic grin: "Present company excluded, obviously."
"Obviously," Kiba agreed, grinning back.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions and basic assessments. Shingen watched, catalogued, and planned.
Uchiha Sasuke: Top of the class in everything, knew it, acted like it. Arrogant but backed by actual skill. Pride was exploitable.
Haruno Sakura: Smart, insecure, desperate for validation. Already developing a crush on Sasuke based on the way her eyes followed him. Easily manipulated through emotional appeals.
Inuzuka Kiba: Loud, straightforward, loyal. Would make a good ally if handled correctly—his clan connections could be useful.
Aburame Shino: Quiet, analytical, probably smarter than he let on. The Aburame were always dangerous because people underestimated them.
Yamanaka Ino: Blonde, confident, clan heir. Another Sasuke fan based on the glares she kept shooting Sakura.
Nara Shikamaru: Brown hair tied up, perpetually bored expression, asleep within thirty minutes of class starting. Lazy genius—potentially the most dangerous person in the room if motivated.
Akimichi Choji: Happily munching chips, unbothered by everything. Don't underestimate the tank.
And notably absent from Class A: Uzumaki Naruto. The protagonist, the future Hokage, the kid with the demon fox sealed inside him. He was in Class B—the "average" students.
*Politics*, Shingen realized. *They're keeping him separated from the clan kids. Probably to avoid incidents.*
After classes ended, Shingen lingered in the hallway, ostensibly tying his shoe, actually waiting to catch a glimpse of Class B as they filed out.
There—orange jacket impossible to miss, blonde hair, those whisker marks. Naruto walked alone, other kids giving him a wide berth. The isolation was obvious, painful, and *useful*.
Their eyes met for a second. Naruto's were blue, bright, and filled with a loneliness he was trying to hide behind a grin.
Shingen smiled back—genuine this time, because he recognized something in that expression. The need to be noticed, to be acknowledged, to be *something* other than what everyone expected.
He could work with that.
But not today. Today was for observation.
-----
**That Night**
Shingen sat cross-legged on his futon, system interface open, staring at his GP total.
**[Current GP: 2,150]**
He'd earned fifty more from a daily quest (successfully execute a D-rank Academy exercise without assistance).
Two Rare pulls would cost 1,000 GP. Safe, reasonable, likely to net him something useful even if not spectacular.
Or… he could save for two more weeks, earn another 850 GP through daily quests, and do an Epic pull.
*No*, his instincts said. *You need capability NOW. The Academy is where alliances form, where reputations solidify. Every day you're weak is a day someone else establishes dominance.*
"Two Rare pulls," he muttered. "Let's see what the universe thinks I deserve."
**[RARE GACHA PULL INITIATED]**
**[Cost: 500 GP]**
Colors swirled. Shingen watched with the detachment of a man placing a bet he could afford to lose.
**[CONGRATULATIONS!]**
**[You have received: TECHNIQUE SCROLL - "Water Release: Wild Water Wave" (Rare)]**
A C-rank jutsu. Water style—meant he had water affinity, which was useful in a village surrounded by forests and rivers. The technique itself was straightforward: expel a large volume of water from the mouth, useful for offense, defense, or creating environmental advantages.
Solid pull. Practical. Not flashy, but he didn't need flashy.
He activated the second pull without hesitation.
**[RARE GACHA PULL INITIATED]**
**[Cost: 500 GP]**
**[Remaining GP: 1,150]**
The colors swirled again, faster this time, brighter—
**[CONGRATULATIONS!]**
**[You have received: SKILL - "Combat Precognition" (Rare)]**
**[Effect: Enhanced processing speed allows user to predict opponent's next move based on minute physical tells, body positioning, and chakra flow. Effectiveness scales with Intelligence stat and combat experience. Does not grant supernatural foresight—requires active observation and analysis.]**
Shingen stared at the notification for five full seconds.
Then he started laughing—that manic, unhinged sound that made his mother knock on his door to check if he was alright.
"I'm fine, Mama! Just happy about my homework!" he called out.
*Combat Precognition*. Not actual future sight, but close enough. His Intelligence stat was 87—far above any Academy student, even clan kids training since birth. Combined with his Enhanced Perception, this would let him read opponents like books, anticipate their moves, position himself perfectly.
It wouldn't make him faster or stronger. But it would make him *prepared*.
And preparation was everything.
He pulled up his updated status:
**[Name: Shingen Yamazaki]**
**[Age: 5]**
**[Chakra: 68/68]**
**[Strength: 9]**
**[Speed: 12]**
**[Stamina: 11]**
**[Intelligence: 87]**
**[Current Skills:**
- **Basic Chakra Control (Rare)**
- **Enhanced Perception (Rare)**
- **Silver Tongue (Epic)**
- **Combat Precognition (Rare) - NEW**
- **Puppeteer's Whisper Technique (Epic)**
- **Clone Technique (Common)**
- **Water Release: Wild Water Wave (Rare) - NEW**
- **Various Common Skills: 23 total**
Still physically weak. Still small. Still disadvantaged in direct confrontation.
But now? Now he could see attacks coming. Could position himself optimally. Could turn superior taijutsu against itself by exploiting the split-second gaps in an opponent's defense.
Tokuma had beaten him through superior speed and training. With Combat Precognition, Shingen wouldn't just win the rematch—he'd *embarrass* him.
He lay back on his futon, mind already spinning with applications. The skill would develop over time, grow more refined with experience. Every spar, every fight, every observation would feed the database his enhanced intelligence used to predict patterns.
Give him six months, and he'd be reading opponents like they were telegraphing their moves in semaphore.
Give him a year, and even jonin would struggle to land clean hits.
Give him three years—by the time of the Uchiha Massacre—and he'd be positioned exactly where he needed to be to exploit the chaos.
Shingen Yamazaki closed his eyes, that insufferable grin still plastered across his face.
The Academy had started.
The game was afoot.
And he was going to enjoy every single second of ruining everyone's expectations.