Walking into the Ninja Academy felt like stepping from a quiet stream into a rushing river. Noise bounced off the polished wooden floors – shouts, laughter, the nervous buzz of dozens of kids crammed together, all vibrating with an energy Kenji hadn't felt at the orphanage. Most faces shone with raw excitement, dreams of flashy jutsu and heroics dancing in their eyes. Kenji felt a different current pulling at him, a deep thrum of curiosity that resonated with the very walls around him.
Because here, the runes weren't just faint whispers; they sang.
He saw them woven into the building itself, intricate golden patterns reinforcing the timber frames, warding the doorways with shimmering fields of 'protection' and 'restriction', even subtly lining the hallways, perhaps to muffle sound or guide the flow of people. The training dummies standing sentinel in the yard pulsed with runes dictating 'durability' and 'resilience'. Even the big chalkboard at the front of their classroom hummed faintly with lines etched behind its dark surface – maybe to make the chalk stick better, or to help wandering minds focus? It was overwhelming, a library of hidden language laid bare.
He found a seat near the back, his notebook open on the desk but the charcoal resting unused for now. He was too busy absorbing, watching. Their teacher, a man named Iruka Umino with kind eyes and a thick scar bridging his nose, stood before them. He began the first lesson, his voice managing to be both patient and firm, cutting through the classroom chatter. The topic: chakra.
"Chakra," Iruka began, "is the energy that flows within all living things..."
As he spoke, Kenji watched the instructor, fascinated. He could see the bright, steady network of golden lines pulsing within Iruka, a complex river system mapping his energy. When Iruka explained how chakra was formed by melding spiritual and physical energy, Kenji saw it happen – a subtle shift inside Iruka's core, two distinct runic patterns, one feeling solid, grounded ('physical'), the other lighter, almost ephemeral ('spiritual'), flowing together and merging into the vibrant threads of 'chakra' runes. It wasn't just words; it was a live demonstration happening on a level only he could perceive.
The first practical exercise seemed simple enough: stick a leaf to your forehead using only chakra. A wave of concentration swept the room, quickly followed by frustrated sighs as leaves fluttered stubbornly to desks and the floor.
Iruka demonstrated effortlessly, the leaf clinging to his forehead like glue. "Focus," he instructed calmly. "Feel your chakra. Guide a small, steady stream. Too little," he tapped the leaf, "and it falls. Too much," he gave a tiny pulse, and the leaf shot off abruptly, "and you blow it away."
Kenji watched Iruka's forehead intently. He saw the delicate thread of golden runes flow up from the instructor's core network. But it wasn't just pushing energy. The runes changed at the point of contact, interacting with the faint runic structure of the leaf itself, creating a tiny, temporary pattern that hummed with the concept of 'adhesion'. Ah. It wasn't just force; it was instruction.
He picked up his own leaf, its veins a miniature map. He didn't need to close his eyes; the runes were clearer with them open. He took a breath, reaching for that now-familiar inner warmth, the energy he'd used on the stone. Instead of just shoving it vaguely towards his forehead, he visualized that 'adhesion' rune he'd seen Iruka create, trying to project its shape, its meaning, onto the leaf through his chakra.
It was trickier than warming the stone. Finer control, a more specific command embedded in the energy flow. His first try was clumsy – a pulse of raw energy sent the leaf skittering away. Okay, focus. He tried again, concentrating on the shape of the rune, the way the golden lines flowed and connected, the feeling of 'stickiness' it represented. He felt that familiar faint drain, the cost of imposing his will.
Click.
The leaf settled firmly against his skin. No wobbling, no precarious balance. It felt anchored. He opened his eyes. A few other students had managed it now, mostly through determined trial and error, their leaves looking ready to peel off any second. He felt a quiet flicker of understanding. He knew why it worked.
Iruka walked the aisles, offering quiet encouragement. He paused by Kenji's desk. "Good job, Kenji. Steady focus." He tilted his head slightly, observing the firmly stuck leaf. "Very stable indeed."
Kenji just offered a small nod, feeling suddenly conspicuous. He could already sense the delicate runic pattern he'd imposed on the leaf starting to fray as his concentration wavered slightly. Maintaining it took constant, conscious effort, like holding a specific picture clear in his mind.
The next lesson covered the 'Fundamental Three': Transformation, Clone, and Substitution. Iruka started with the Transformation Jutsu, demonstrating the hand signs – Dog, Boar, Ram.
"These hand signs," Iruka explained, his own hands moving crisply, "help you mold your chakra precisely for the technique." As he spoke the names, Kenji saw the specific sequence manipulate the flow of runes within Iruka's chakra system, like fingers plucking strings, guiding the energy into a complex, waiting state. "Focus on your target image, channel chakra, perform the signs, and release!"
Poof!
A swirl of smoke, and standing where Iruka had been was a perfect replica of the Third Hokage, robes and wrinkles all accounted for. Kenji stared, captivated. With the release, a shimmering lattice of golden runes – representing the pure concept of the Third Hokage – had overlaid Iruka's own form, masking it completely. The smoke wasn't just for show; it seemed like a momentary ripple in reality, a byproduct of the forceful runic overlay settling into place.
When the students tried, the results were chaotic. Puffs of smoke revealed blurry shapes, oddly coloured Irukas, or students who hadn't changed at all, just looking strained. Kenji hesitated. He'd seen the runic structure of the transformation. He understood, on an intuitive level, what needed to happen. Did he really need the hand signs? They felt… indirect. Like using bulky levers to flip a tiny, precise switch.
He decided to try mimicking Iruka's Hokage transformation. Ignoring the hand signs for a moment, he focused purely on the memory of that golden lattice of runes he'd witnessed. He gathered his chakra, visualizing that complex pattern, trying to will it into existence around himself, projecting it outwards.
Poof!
Smoke enveloped him. When it cleared, he cautiously looked down at his hands. Older hands, wrinkled slightly, draped in the familiar white and red robes. He risked a glance at a nearby window, catching his reflection. It was… mostly the Third Hokage. The height felt right, the clothes looked correct, but the face wasn't quite there – still holding traces of his own features, a bit boyish under the aged lines. Not perfect, but far, far better than the blobs and distortions his classmates were producing.
And he hadn't used the hand signs.
Iruka's eyebrow shot up, surprise clear on his face. "Kenji! That's excellent control for a first attempt! Keep practicing holding the image clearly in your mind, but the execution itself is very promising. Did you find the hand signs came easily?"
A prickle of unease went through Kenji. Lying felt wrong, instinctively. But the truth? How could he even begin to explain? "Y-yes, Iruka-sensei," he mumbled, looking down. "I just… focused really hard."
Iruka nodded, accepting the answer readily enough. But Kenji thought he saw something flicker in the instructor's eyes – a brief, sharp flash of analytical thought. Had he noticed the missing signs? Or just the unusually good result?
As the class moved on to practicing the basic, illusionary Clone Jutsu, a profound realization settled over Kenji. The Academy wasn't just a school to learn techniques; it was a living library of runes. Every demonstration, every explanation, every exercise was a chance to observe, analyze, and decode the fundamental language underpinning shinobi power. Hand signs, chakra molding, kata – they were the standard tools, the scaffolding erected for those who couldn't see the building's actual blueprint.
He, however, could see the blueprint. He could see the lines behind the world. And standing here, in this noisy classroom filled with possibility, the potential stretching before him felt suddenly, breathtakingly vast.
--- End of Chapter 2 ---