The sun had barely risen when Yūhi Arata loped across the training grounds, sandals kicking up dust in rhythm with his steady breath. To anyone watching, he looked like an ordinary boy putting in morning exercise. To Arata, it was more than sweat and stamina.
A pale-blue panel floated in the corner of his vision, faint enough to ignore but impossible to miss.
Running [14%] → Modifier: Synergy
He smirked as he read it, wiping sweat from his brow. Of course. His very first real rare pull, not on some great fire technique or shadowy clone art, but on running. He could almost hear the universe laughing.
Technically, his notebook had beaten running to the punch— Writing had rolled a rare modifier days ago. But he didn't count that. A book that added its own notes wasn't a weapon, just a creepy little tutor scribbling in the margins.
"Figures," he muttered, the corners of his mouth curling upward. "Not Fireball, not Clone. Running. Guess I'll save the world one lap at a time."
He knew better than to dismiss it, though. The panel didn't give worthless scraps. If the system said running mattered, it mattered. And Synergy… well, the word itself made him itch with possibilities. If it could fuse with other skills, then running wasn't just stamina anymore. It was a foundation.
Arata slowed, stretching out his calves, then padded over to a row of wooden targets. He fished a pouch of kunai from his belt, gave one a lazy spin, and sent it flicking end-over-end into the nearest post. It hit, but off-center.
Throwing (Kunai/Shuriken) [8%] → No Modifier
"Tch." He clicked his tongue. Still short of the first threshold. Another throw, another panel update, still no modifier. He tilted his head and chuckled to himself, as if someone else had told him a joke.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue. Still short of the first threshold. Another throw, another panel update, still no modifier. He tilted his head and chuckled as if someone else had told him a joke.
"Pathetic. The old man down the street with the bad hip could probably out-throw me. At least he'd hit something other than the dirt."
He wasn't really disappointed. This was the grind. Every percentage point mattered, and sooner or later, throwing weapons would open up.
But for now—time for something more fun.
Arata clasped his hands together and wove seals in a blur. "Clone Jutsu."
Two puffs of smoke, and two versions of himself stood by his side. Only… not quite himself. One loomed half a head taller with long, gangly limbs. The other was squat and barrel-chested, stubby arms jutting out like a parody of muscle. Both wore his face, both carried his same foxlike grin — and yet they looked wrong enough to make his own skin crawl.
Clone Jutsu [12%] → Modifier: Shape
Arata circled them, studying his work like an artist critiquing brushstrokes. Shape wasn't glamorous, but it was versatile. No one expected clones to be anything but identical. A tall one here, a short one there — even that tiny difference could throw an opponent's timing.
He formed the seals, and another clone appeared with a hiss of smoke. This one raised its arm, which stretched into the rough outline of a sword. The "blade" shimmered, catching light like polished steel, though Arata knew better.
"Still smoke and mirrors," he said, smirking. "Can't cut anything. But maybe they don't need to know that."
The sword-arm clone swished its fake weapon once, then dispersed into a puff of smoke.
The squat clone wobbled and wagged a finger at the tall one. "Straighten your back, Arata. You look like a noodle."
Arata smirked. His own words, his own ventriloquism, but it amused him all the same.
"Not bad for a jutsu everyone calls useless."
The clones popped away with twin bursts of smoke. He exhaled, rolled his shoulders, and set his fingers into another familiar pattern of seals. This time, he gathered chakra low in his chest, fed it up through his throat, and expelled it with a sharp exhale.
"Fire Release: Fireball Jutsu!"
A great sphere of flame roared from his mouth, heat blasting against his face. It wasn't pretty—too much chakra one moment, too little the next—but it held together just long enough to slam against the far target and burst into blackened ash.
A chime. The panel shifted.
Fireball Jutsu [10%] → Modifier Selection Available
Three options unfurled in neat, glowing cards.
---
Delay — Preview
10%: Fireball hesitates briefly before launching.
30%: Delay becomes controllable (hold the fireball mid-air).
60%: Queue multiple delayed fireballs in suspension.
80%: Remote detonation; chain detonate the queued shots.
100%: Orbitals — delayed fireballs can circle him until triggered.
Arata's eyes half-lidded, amused. "Cute. Bait the dodge, punish the space. Very 'mind games.' Very me." He tilted his head. "Shame it's slow."
---
Flicker — Preview
10%: Auto-casts a second weaker fireball.
30%: Aim the second flicker independently.
60%: Adds a third flicker shot.
80%: Chakra cost reduction for flickers.
100%: Up to five rapid flickers, no seals between shots.
He watched the little simulation: one full fireball, then a staccato chase of smaller ones. "Straightforward. Reliable. Finally, something that just works." His grin widened.
---
Anchor — Preview
10%: Fireball stops in place as a hovering orb.
30%: Anchored orb swells while stationary.
60%: Multiple anchors can be set as mines.
80%: Anchors persist until manually detonated.
100%: Fuse anchors into a single, sun-bright orb.
Arata let the projection run: a string of floating orange suns over a training field. "Area denial," he murmured. He tapped his chin. "Someday. Not today."
---
Three doors, three paths. Delay promised clever traps. Anchor promised territory. But Flicker promised pressure now, and a nasty ceiling later. He lifted a finger, light glinting in his eye.
"Let's start with the one that kills you fastest."
He touched Flicker.
Confirmation rippled down the panel. Arata inhaled, fed chakra up, and exhaled—
A full fireball roared across the range, and a heartbeat later a smaller one snapped after it, snapping the charred target into splinters. Heat washed back over his face. He tasted smoke and smiled like he'd known the answer all along.
"Finally," he murmured, lips curling. "Something that doesn't make me look like a clown."
He let the satisfaction sit for a moment, then tugged a small, battered notebook from his pouch. Ink-stained fingers flipped to the latest page, where his cramped handwriting recorded his drills. He bent, added a few notes about chakra output, and shut the book.
Later, when he glanced at it again, a new line had been scrawled across the margin. His handwriting, but he hadn't written it. Keep seals tighter. Exhale more evenly.
Arata tilted his head, smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Writing [15%] → Modifier: Nature Change
The paper learned. Strange, unsettling—but useful.
As the sun dipped low, he left the training grounds and wandered into the village proper. He helped an old woman carry groceries. Hauled crates for a shopkeeper. Swept the floor of a teahouse for half an hour. Mundane work, but every task meant another tick upward, another chance at a hidden pull.
He ended the day with a final glance at his panel, the full list glowing faintly in his vision.
Running [14%] → Synergy
Clone Jutsu [12%] → Shape
Fireball Jutsu [10%] → Flicker
Writing [15%] → Nature Change
Reading [8%] → –
Cleaning [9%] → –
Cooking [6%] → –
Strength Training [6%] → –
Balance [5%] → –
Substitution Jutsu [5%] → –
Transformation Jutsu [7%] → –
Carrying/Hauling [5%] → –
Meditation [4%] → –
Observation [6%] → –
A fox's smile curved across his lips.
"Doesn't matter what it is. Every little thing sharpens the blade. And one of these days…" He closed the panel with a blink, shoving his hands into his pockets. "…I'll roll another rare or better."
He walked on, the faintest laugh in his throat, already hunting for tomorrow's tasks.