The classroom smelled of chalk dust and tatami mats that hadn't been beaten in months. Dry, stale, vaguely bitter. Yoru slid into a spot in the middle row, wedged between two squirming kids. Elbow room was nonexistent, knees nudging the bench in front. The others fidgeted, tapping heels and drumming fingers, whispering guesses about what would happen today.
At the front, the chūnin stood, clipboard in hand. A scar slashed across his cheek, uniform frayed at the cuffs. He tapped the board lightly, announcing his presence.
"Alright," he said, voice clipped, more tired than strict. "Some of you already know what chakra is. Some of you think you do. Doesn't matter. Today, you'll learn to feel it, and then show me if you can shape it."
The whispers quieted. For a second.
"Chakra is body and spirit together," he went on, raising his hands like he'd said this a hundred times. "Physical energy. Spiritual energy. You mix them. Focus. Breathe. Shape. Like this."
He formed the ram seal. Took a deep breath. Shoulders relaxed. A faint shimmer traced his skin before fading.
"That's all I want today. Don't force it. If you can't find it, fine, you'll stay in beginner. If you can, you move to prep. Prep means scrolls, drills, practice. Resources."
The last word landed heavy.
Yoru's chest tightened slightly. Resources were food. Food meant not going to bed hungry. And he wasn't the only one who noticed. He could see others already straightening up.
The chūnin's eyes swept over them. He already knew how this would play. Clan kids would breeze through. They always did. The rest… well. Most of them would fail, or scrape by barely enough to get stuck in remedial. Not hopeless, not yet. Just behind. And behind in wartime usually meant dead later.
"Clan kids first," he said, checking the clipboard.
The muttering started immediately.
"Why are they even here?"
"They're already chosen."
"This is for us."
The instructor ignored it. He had no patience for grumbling.
Uchiha boy stepped up, fan stitched proudly on his sleeve. Seal flicked into existence, chakra shimmered, smooth as breathing. Registered.
Hyūga girl followed. Pale eyes, calm, bored. Chakra radiated effortlessly. Registered.
The chūnin nodded once. No surprise. Kids like that were raised on chakra theories before they could spell their names. They'd go straight to higher tracks. The good classes. The safe ones. The thought sat bitter in his throat. Everyone else? Background filler if the war dragged long.
One clan kid after another. Confident, natural, bored. The pen scratched their names down like it was just paperwork.
Then the real test began.
A civilian girl went first. Ink stains still on her fingertips. She tried hard, face red, hands trembling. Nothing.
The chūnin marked her down. "Remedial."
Next, a boy. Shaking, sweating. He managed a flicker. Barely a spark. It died instantly.
"Remedial."
And on it went. Kid after kid. Strain, sputter, fail. No shouting, no scolding. Just the quiet scrape of pen on paper. The message was obvious. Remedial meant scraps. Scraps meant slower training, worse odds. Most of these kids wouldn't catch up, no matter how hard they ran.
From the middle row, Yoru watched, chin resting on his hand. Blank face, brain working overtime.
If he kept quiet here, if he played weak, he'd get shoved into remedial. Safer, less attention. But no scrolls. No drills. No resources. He knew what that meant. Scrap kids didn't live long in wars.
But if he pushed too far the other way, showed off? That painted a target. No clan to protect him. No father to whisper in the Hokage's ear. Just another orphan who got too big for his sandals.
Low-key means safety. High-key means survival. Pick one.
When his name came up, Yoru stood, steady, casual. He walked up front, small body straight, hands calm.
Ram seal. Breath in. Breath out.
Chakra rose warm in his chest, steady, practiced. He let it flow to his fingertips, just enough to shimmer.
The chūnin's brow twitched. 'Hm. Not clan-level. But smooth. Controlled. Practiced. The kind of thing you didn't expect from an orphan.'
Pen scratched. "Registered."
Back at his seat, Yoru let his shoulders drop. First step complete. He'd navigated the line between caution and necessity. He had secured resources without painting a target.
The rest of the session dragged, names scribbled, flickers or flows, success or remedial. Yoru cataloged silently: who was trained, who excelled, who was just raw potential waiting for chance. Every detail mattered. Every observation was a future advantage.
And Yoru leaned back, eyes half-lidded, brain already ticking ahead.
He didn't want to shine brighter than the clan kids. That was suicide. But blending in was just as bad. Background filler didn't eat well, didn't train well, didn't survive.
So he'd carve himself a narrow path between the two. Bright enough to matter. Dim enough to slip past the knives.
For now, high-key was the only path forward.
...
Soon, the day was over. Yoru walked towards his usual fishing spot, only to be interrupted.
"YORU!" Glancing back, Yoru recognized them, his orphanmates. If they could be called that.
Tano, jittery as always; Mitsuki, standing straighter than her size suggested; Kiro, tripping over everything in sight.
"Yoru! Show us… show us how to do it!" Tano demanded, nearly vibrating with impatience.
Yoru didn't blink. Of course, they'd want him to. Of course, they'd bug him. It was predictable. Useful, even. Connections mattered. If he played this right, he could help just enough to earn goodwill, without burning himself out or leaving traces of arrogance.
He crouched, sinking into the shade along the wall, making himself appear approachable. "Basics," he said, voice low but clear. "Breath steady. Focus. Think about your body and the energy inside. Flow it. Don't force it."
The children mimicked, faces tight with concentration. Tano's hands trembled. Mitsuki's fingers were rigid. Kiro's legs jittered like he might bolt. Yoru moved among them in small, precise adjustments, a subtle nudge of a wrist here, a shift of stance there. Enough to seem helpful. Enough to be memorable. Not enough to tire himself or give away that he was already ahead.
Minutes passed. Tano's leaf quivered. Mitsuki's shimmer flickered faintly over her hands. Kiro's energy pooled unevenly but visibly. Yoru nodded, murmured a word or two of encouragement, keeping his expression carefully neutral. Let them think they were learning from him. Let them remember his face. All data for later.
'Sometimes, I wonder if reincarnation had fucked me up.' Yoru had such thoughts, but his face was blank. A basic requirement for shinobi in training surely.
Then he stepped back, letting them continue. "Good practice. Keep at it," he said casually, and slipped into a narrow alley leading out of town, moving toward the forest.
...
As the name suggests, Village hidden in the leaves was surrounded by forest. It didn't take long for Yoru to reach it.
Soon, listening to the sound, Yoru quickly spotted his usual fishing spot.
Fishing wasn't glamorous. It wasn't a skill any clan would write home about. But one or two fish meant a meal. Sell one, eat one, each coin, each calorie mattered. Survival was small trades and small gains.
He crouched at the edge of the water, rod in hand, threading the line with deliberate care. The forest was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every crack of a twig and distant birdcall feel loud. And then he saw the figure downstream. Rod in hand, calm, composed, shoulders relaxed. Mask pulled up, eyes unreadable even from here.
Kakashi.
They nodded. Nothing more. No words needed. They had 'met' a few times, but just as before they didn't interfere with each other.
Yoru cataloged the encounter inwardly.
First major cannon character he'd seen. Kakashi, the sixth Hokage. One of the major characters of the series. The person with enough plot points to make his own series.
For now, Yoru didn't want to do anything with him. So, he focused on fishing.
His line dipped. Fingers steady. Eyes tracing the water stream. He had spent a lifetime noticing the little things. Here, now, they mattered. And for once, noticing might actually save him.
...
Thanks for reading~