Tetsumaru felt absolutely nothing after his first day at the Academy. When he got home, he simply went about his routine and started cooking dinner.
This left Wafu and Aiko utterly baffled. A child should be bursting with excitement on their first day of school. What was wrong with their son? Had he been bullied?
That shouldn't be possible, they thought. Can the top student even be bullied?
"Bullied? Me? No," Tetsumaru replied, looking completely confused when his father cautiously broached the subject at the dinner table.
How would that even work? Half the boys in the class—hell, half the boys in the entire grade—have been flattened by me over the last two years. Who'd be stupid enough to try?
"Then why aren't you happy?"
"I'm not unhappy."
"But other kids come home all excited and tell their parents everything about school. You haven't said a word."
"..."
Crap. I forgot that kids are supposed to be excited about school.
"Tch. The Ninja Academy is boring. There's nothing worth talking about."
Tetsumaru's blunt truth shut down his parents' questioning, and he went back to his meal. However, he had no idea that this single sentence was about to invite a terrible catastrophe.
Late that night, as per his usual routine, Tetsumaru was in his small stone lab fiddling with his insects and secretly fine-tuning his chakra meridians. Under the eaves of the main house, Wafu and Aiko stood watching the closed door of the lab, their faces etched with worry.
"Is this boy too isolated? All he does is mess with those bugs. He's never even invited a friend over to play."
"I know. He just started school and already says he hates it. Will he ever make any friends?"
"Sigh... what should we do?" they lamented in unison.
Aiko turned to her husband. She remembered the last time she'd "accidentally" discovered his secret stash of cash and confiscated every ryo. After that, Wafu's social life had suddenly blossomed—mostly because he had to shamelessly mooch drinks off his friends, which required him to be incredibly charming and attentive.
"Let's cut off his allowance," Aiko suggested.
"Huh? Isn't that a bit harsh?" Wafu asked, instantly feeling a pang of phantom pain for his own wallet. He felt he had to speak up for his son.
"Hmm, maybe it is a bit strict..." Aiko hesitated. "How about we check how much he's been spending first?"
"Good idea. Let's check."
Forty minutes later, a firm, resolute voice drifted from their bedroom: "Cut it off! Completely! Not a single ryo!"
A week later, Tetsumaru sat in his favorite spot—the back row by the window—looking like he'd lost his will to live. The bright sunlight washed over him, making him feel comfortably drowsy.
He had already finished reading the entire first-year curriculum. It was too simple, lacked any innovation, and was a total waste of his life. He wasn't the only one; all the clan children were in a similar state of listless boredom.
In the beginning, some kids had tried to show off, shouting about how "it was too easy" or how they "already knew everything," but they were quickly disciplined by the heavy fists of their teacher, Domoto-sensei. Now, the classroom was relatively orderly—if you ignored the students sleeping on their desks.
Of course, some students were more egregious than others.
Akimichi Daidou had propped his book up vertically to hide his stash of red bean cakes, seaweed rice balls, pine nuts, wagashi, and taiyaki. He was munching away incessantly. At least, thanks to Domoto's "iron fist," he no longer dared to eat noisy fried foods or stinky natto—the latter of which was loathed by Tetsumaru, Takeshi, and Fueka. Inuzuka Takeshi and his ninja hound, Sora, would practically pass out from the smell.
Nara Mao was fast asleep, his light, rhythmic snoring suggesting he was having a pleasant dream.
Inuzuka Takeshi's head was practically buried under his desk as he played games with his puppy, who was hidden in the drawer.
Uchiha Fueka was busy polishing his shuriken and kunai with a whetstone. Target practice was the only subject where he'd actually beaten Tetsumaru, so he was taking it very seriously.
Hyuga Tokuma sat with an icy expression, staring straight ahead with unfocused eyes, a look that made the student sitting in front of him feel physically ill.
Yamanaka Ame sat quietly and upright, though her hands were hidden under her desk, where she was repeatedly practicing the hand seals for her clan's secret techniques.
Under his drowsy exterior, Tetsumaru was focused entirely on using his Kikaichu to clear a blockage in a meridian. Every nibble from the insects brought a sharp sting of pain; he had to concentrate perfectly, as any mistake would lead to disaster.
The Academy teachers were all Chunin. Did these kids really think their little tricks could fool them? Not a chance. However, the teachers also knew the current material was too basic for clan kids; it was meant to build a foundation for the few civilian students in the class. As long as the clan kids weren't being too disruptive, they let them be.
As for the "egregious" seven? The teachers pampered them. When you're part of the small group with the best grades in the class, you get "Honor Student" privileges.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson. The classroom instantly came to life.
"Practical combat! It's combat class!" the boys cheered, bolting from the room. The next lesson was on the playground, a favorite for almost all of them.
Tetsumaru was the first one out, quickly claiming a spot under the shade of a large tree. He wiped his face, leaned against the trunk, and stretched. Nara Mao and Akimichi Daidou followed close behind, the three slackers occupying the best of the shade. Mao and Tetsumaru went back to dozing while Daidou pulled out more snacks.
Yamanaka Ame, Inuzuka Takeshi, Uchiha Fueka, and Hyuga Tokuma were the "martial arts enthusiasts." They stood in the center of the yard, diligently warming up and preparing for a fight. Ame, in particular, was full of fighting spirit; she'd lost to Fueka during the entrance exam and to Tokuma in the last practical session. She was clearly determined to prove herself today.
Domoto Oomono-sensei arrived, and his first act was to drag the three "shade-dwellers" out to the field, confiscating half a bag of snacks in the process.
"Alright, everyone form a circle. Class is starting."
Once the perimeter was set, Domoto spoke again. "When I call your names, step into the center."
"Gentaro." "Yoshimoto Eiichi."
This was the second practical session. The two boys stepped out, faced each other, and formed the Seal of Confrontation with practiced ease.
"Begin!"
At Domoto's command, the two boys took their stances and started fighting. After two semi-decent exchanges, they both forgot the Taijutsu they'd just been taught. Not knowing what to do next, they reverted to flailing their arms in classic "wild-swing" style.
"Booo!" the students on the sidelines jeered, breaking into laughter.
"Gentaro, you're so weak!" "Eiichi, you're pathetic! Your dad's a Chunin, for heaven's sake!"
The two boys turned bright red. Their fighting became even more chaotic, eventually devolving into hair-pulling and face-scratching. Domoto-sensei stepped in immediately, pulling them apart.
"There is no winner here. Both of you are unsatisfactory. Points deducted."
The two disheveled kids looked mortified. They slunk back to the circle, red-faced and frustrated. They didn't seem to care much about the point deduction, but the word "deduction" hit the transmigrator like a bolt of lightning. He stood up instantly.
"Domoto-sensei! Why are they losing points? What is the point system?"
Domoto, who was about to call the next pair, blinked in surprise. "Did I not tell you?"
"No. Absolutely not," Tetsumaru replied firmly. As a former student from a world where "grades are life," there was no way he would have missed a detail about scoring.
"Oh. Well, I'll explain now. Starting from this session, your practical performance will be scored."
"Wins add points, losses subtract them. These points go toward your final grade for Practical Combat."
"Furthermore, if you perform exceptionally well, you won't lose points even if you lose the match—you might even gain some. Conversely, if you win but perform poorly, you won't get any points."
"Teacher! Teacher! What counts as 'performing well'?" "Yeah! They both lost points just now!"
The class broke out into a noisy chatter of questions.
"Quiet!" Domoto barked, silencing the crowd. "Listen carefully. As long as you can master the Taijutsu and throwing techniques taught in class and demonstrate your progress during a duel, that is 'performing well.' Now, shut up. I'm calling the next pair."
The subsequent duels were much more serious. Most students performed reasonably well, though some were so nervous their limbs wouldn't follow orders, leading to even worse displays than before.
"Next pair: Aburame Tetsumaru and Uchiha Fueka. To the center."
The two formed the Seal of Confrontation.
"Tetsumaru," Fueka began, "I've been training like a demon since enrollment. My strength has increased exponentially. Today, I'll show you the power of Uchiha Style Taijutsu!"
"The Uchiha are the strongest in the Shinobi World!" the two said in perfect unison.
Fueka froze. "...How did you know what I was going to say?"
"How did you know what I was going to say?" Tetsumaru repeated, again in unison.
Fueka: ( ° д ° )
Tetsumaru sighed. "It's not that I guessed it, Fueka. It's that you say the exact same thing every single time. It's always those two sentences, over and over..."
"SHUT UP!" Fueka yelled, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled his clan's crest. He looked like he wanted to go home and crawl into a hole.
"Anyway, let me apologize in advance," Tetsumaru said, his gaze sharpening. "Forgive me, Fueka-kun, but I'm going to use my full strength to defeat you."
"Since Domoto-sensei is counting points for this class, you can blame him."
With that, Tetsumaru lunged, throwing a straight punch toward Fueka's chest.
Fueka tried to parry with his left hand while his right hand reached for his ninja tool pouch, his finger hooking a kunai. After the first practical lesson, Domoto had recognized that some clan children had a solid enough foundation to be allowed to wear and use training tools in class.
The moment Tetsumaru's fist met Fueka's arm, he pushed off with his right foot. Power flowed from his calf to his thigh, through his waist, and was skillfully channeled into his right arm and fist.
Fueka felt an unstoppable surge of force. His parry was shattered instantly.
Tetsumaru's fist didn't deviate an inch. It slammed directly into Fueka's left chest. The impact sent the boy flying out of the ring, his chest visibly compressing from the force. The speed of the knockback was so great that Fueka's vision momentarily went black; he was completely dazed.
"Winner: Aburame Tetsumaru! Beautiful transition from a stepping punch to a lunge punch. Points added!"
"Uchiha Fueka was careless. Points deducted!"
"Next pair."
Tetsumaru pulled Fueka to his feet before leaving the ring, immediately returning to his listless, slacker state.
"What's with you?" Yamanaka Ame asked, sitting down next to him after winning her own match. "You've been like a wilted plant for days. You don't look like a man at all. Trouble at home?"
"My allowance is gone. All of it."
"That's... tragic!"
The punishment of losing all his pocket money was so severe that even the usually silent Nara Mao spoke up. "What did you do to deserve that?"
"I spent a little too much. So they cut me off."
"...How much?"
"One million ryo." (It was actually 1.93 million, but Wafu was never great with numbers).
( ° Д ° ) ( ° Д ° ) ( ° Д ° )
Dammit, he's a filthy rich kid! I want to cling to his leg—wait, he's a broke kid now.
"You deserved it!" "They should've cut you off sooner!" "Do you have any idea how many snacks that could buy? Slurp."
Tetsumaru looked helpless. No money didn't just mean his experiments were on hold; he couldn't even buy bug feed. To keep his room of over a hundred thousand insects from starving, he'd been forced to spend hours every day harvesting wild grass. He was exhausted.
He'd thought about getting a part-time job, but Konoha didn't allow six-year-olds to work.
Pah. Kakashi was on the battlefield killing people at six. Hypocritical 'mercy' at its finest.
Nara Mao looked at the miserable Tetsumaru and smirked. "If you can't afford to keep all those bugs, why not just sell them or let them go? Better that than letting them starve."
"Sell them?"
"Yeah. Since you can't afford the 'child support' anyway."
Tetsumaru's eyes widened. Of course! Why didn't I think of selling bugs? The Aburame clan has zero business sense. I must have been infected by their stupidity.
He turned to look at Yamanaka Ame.
"What?" she asked.
"You wanted a Slime, right? I'll sell you one."
"Huh? Isn't that your 'precious baby'? Besides, they cost tens of thousands of ryo. I can't afford that."
"I'll give you a discount. Do you want it or not?"
"YES!"
Tetsumaru's hand blurred, and he produced a pale-yellow Slime from somewhere on his person.
"That'll be ten thousand ryo."
"That's so expensive..." Ame pulled out her wallet and counted her money. She had enough, but it would leave her with almost nothing. She'd been planning to buy red bean soup and dango.
But it was so cute. She wanted it so much.
Tetsumaru smiled. The hook is set.
He subtly infused a tiny bit of chakra into the creature. The Slime's body rippled gently, and it looked up at Ame with large, teary, watery eyes.
"Pojyu~"
Thump. Ame's maiden heart was struck by a critical hit.
"I'll throw in a decorative glass terrarium for free. If you don't want it, I'll sell it to someone else."
"I'LL BUY IT!"
Practical class ended, and the students returned to the classroom. Every girl in the class crowded around Ame's desk, watching the Slime slide across the wood and chirping with delight.
By the window, Tetsumaru was happily counting his money. Ame's wallet had been full of coins; it looked like she'd been saving that ten thousand ryo for a long time.
"Tetsumaru, didn't you say it takes ninety thousand ryo to breed a Slime?" Mao asked, sounding confused. "You sold it for ten thousand. Are you giving up on your bugs?"
"Not a chance. A combat-grade Slime is expensive to breed, like the one that died in the fight against Tokuma. But a normal pet Slime? I have plenty of those. They're cheap."
He finished counting the money and tucked it carefully into his wallet. He patted the slightly thickened pouch and felt a sense of peace return to his soul.
Money really is a man's true source of courage.
Tetsumaru glanced over at the swarm of girls. They really are popular. It turns out women and children are the easiest targets for a sale. I can definitely rely on my female classmates to fund my research.
Mao looked at him with a mix of amusement and disbelief. "That's a bit low, don't you think? Aren't you embarrassed?"
But who was Tetsumaru? He was a middle-aged man in a child's body. Does a broke old man care about embarrassment? Not a chance.
Mao's words reminded him of a classic movie line from his past life.
"Making money... it isn't shameful."
The exact word for "shameful" didn't exist in the local language, but he used a similar term that conveyed the meaning perfectly.
"..." Mao curled his lip and grumbled, "People say I act like a fifty-year-old man, but Tetsumaru isn't like that. He's just a greasy old man."
Tetsumaru: I heard that, you know. Say it again and I'll have to silence you.
With Mao's "advice," a brand-new door had opened for Tetsumaru.
He picked out his most beautiful insects and marketed them to the wealthy girls in the class. He took his strongest, most aggressive-looking beetles and sold them to the boys, even introducing the game of "Beetle Wrestling" to the Academy.
A bug-fighting craze swept through the school, and Tetsumaru raked in a small fortune in pocket money. With the cash flowing in, he could continue his experiments, embarking on a path of wealth through "bugs for bugs."
Tetsumaru's "wings" had grown strong; he no longer needed to listen to his parents' financial restrictions.
Wafu's authority as a father had completely evaporated. Feeling a deep sense of loss, he decided he wanted to drown his sorrows in a drink.
Aiko immediately identified her husband's trick to satisfy his craving. Without hesitation, she suppressed him once more, confiscating every last ryo of his secret stash.