Raizen woke early the next morning, the faint hush of dawn still hanging in the air. He turned the silver ring in his palm, admiring the gift from his father. The metal was cool, but when he clenched his fist a faint warmth pulsed through it, calming the storm in his chest.
This ring… it's more than it looks. One day, when I'm strong enough, I'll uncover its secrets.
He slid it back onto his finger and stepped out of his room.
Taro was already waiting in the hall, as if he hadn't slept at all.
"Good morning, young master," the retainer said with a respectful nod. "I bring news about the Academy. It begins in two weeks."
Raizen's eyebrows lifted. Two weeks? He hadn't even thought about it since his birthday.
"But," Taro continued, his tone turning weighty, "even as clan heir, your place is not guaranteed. You must earn it. Every candidate faces an entrance exam."
Raizen blinked, stunned. "An entrance exam? Just to get into the Academy?"
Taro folded his arms. "Yes. It is divided into three parts. First: a jōnin will sense every candidate's chakra to see if they have enough to even walk the shinobi path. For you, this will be no problem — your reserves are naturally high. Second: a physical test. Speed, strength, endurance, climbing, weapon control, and finally a sparring match chosen at random. Third: written work. Basic history, mathematics, science, and village knowledge."
Raizen stared. How in the world are six-year-olds supposed to pass this? Civilians especially… they'll be crushed.
He took a steady breath. "So I have two weeks. Can I use any training grounds or a library?"
Taro's eyes flickered, a trace of surprise at how quickly Raizen was thinking ahead. "Yes. The clan has private grounds. I'll arrange for you to use one from six in the morning until mid-afternoon. Our library is also at your disposal."
Raizen bowed his head slightly. Beside this cursed eye, I'm blessed. A powerful clan. Endless resources. No excuse to waste it.
"Then, Taro, I need supplies. Kunai. Shuriken. Books. And…" he hesitated, then added, "water balloons. Rubber balls too."
That drew a rare blink from Taro. He clearly expected Raizen to beg his father for a shortcut — not ask for tools to grind it out. But then the older man smiled faintly and nodded. "Consider it done." He vanished with a flicker of chakra, leaving Raizen alone.
The training ground loomed quiet, grass heavy with morning dew. Raizen stood at the edge, heart pounding. Time to find out what this body can do.
He dropped into pushups. At first it was easy — too easy. He switched from palms to fists, drawing his elbows in, and kept going. By the time his arms shook and collapsed beneath him, he'd counted two hundred.
He pushed himself upright, chest heaving. "A six-year-old doing two hundred pushups… that's insane. Is it chakra? Or just this Tsukihana body?"
Next came sit-ups. He locked his feet under a stone and went until his abs screamed — three hundred in a single set.
"Ridiculous…" he muttered, grinning despite himself. "No wonder the old me bragged all the time. He had the right to."
Squats: four hundred. Pull-ups: fifty, until his back burned. His legs felt like steel, but his arms lagged behind.
Then came the sprint. He measured out a hundred meters, then dashed as hard as his short legs allowed. He crossed the finish in seventeen seconds. Too slow. Too human.
Raizen scowled. "Back then, as Jacob… I was running high nines, low tens. This body's strong, but it isn't built for speed. Not yet."
Still, he noticed something else: recovery. In his old world, he'd be floored for fifteen minutes. Now, within two, his breathing leveled and strength seeped back.
This is my real edge. I can keep fighting when others fall.
Endurance came next. He ran a full kilometer, collapsed, then was back on his feet moments later, sweat steaming off his skin.
Finally, the test he feared: accuracy. He gathered stones, scratched a circle into a tree trunk, and stepped back ten meters.
He missed. Every. Single. Time.
Raizen froze, staring at the empty bark. His stomach dropped. "Not once? Not even close?"
He tried again, slower this time, forcing his good eye to focus. One stone grazed the bark's edge. He let out a bitter laugh.
So this is my curse. Without accuracy, I can't fight at range. And in close combat, one slip into my blind side… I'm finished.
But giving up wasn't an option. He shifted his stance, angled his head so his good eye lined better with the target, and shortened the distance to five meters. He matched throws to his breath. Inhale, throw. Exhale, reset.
Out of twenty throws, six struck home. Crude, but better.
He clenched his fists. "It's terrible. But it's a start. And I've got two weeks."
By dusk, his muscles ached. But there was still one last test: chakra control. He placed a leaf on his forehead, focusing his energy. Too little chakra and the leaf slid off. Too much and it shot away. For long, frustrating minutes he failed. Then, finally, the leaf held. One second. Two. Three… before fluttering away.
Raizen grinned. "Not bad. This one, I can master."
He sat cross-legged, reviewing his results:
Strength & endurance: monstrous.
Recovery: absurdly fast.
Speed: average, but fixable.
Chakra control: promising.
Accuracy & blind eye: crippling weakness.
He exhaled hard. "It's going to take work. A lot of it. But I'll get there."
On the way home, whispers followed him through the compound.
"He can't even see out of that eye. How can he pass?"
"Even if he makes it in, he won't last."
Each word was a blade, but instead of cutting him down, they lit a fire in his chest.
That night, Raizen sat alone in his room. His reflection stared back: one clear eye, one clouded. The blind eye throbbed faintly, mocking him.
"I'll pass," he whispered. His voice was steady, unyielding. "Even if I have to crawl, I'll pass."
He clenched the ring tight. Warmth spread through his hand, steadying him. Outside, storm clouds rolled across the mountains, thunder rumbling like a distant promise.