for the love of kungfu

Chakra existed in D&D.

It was considered a hidden secret among monks or the specialty of obscure sects—but it was there. In the guidebooks I remembered it was described as power accessed by connecting the energies of body and mind to form something greater—an attempt to reach wholeness of self. The goal may have differed but the energy itself sounded a lot like the chakra I had come to know in this life.

It made me wonder: did the authors of those rulebooks know something? I couldn't be the first human to reincarnate, and nothing says it can't happen in the opposite direction—some adventurer from a fantasy world reborn on modern Earth, making a killing writing out their past life as fiction.

Regardless, the information I'd gathered was uncannily accurate.

Of course, the monks in that world had no chakra network. Their method of accessing chakra was different—internal—focused on unlocking the so-called Seven Gates or Chakras. Each gate was a bottleneck in body and spirit that, when opened, enhanced physical—and sometimes mental—prowess dramatically.

Since I already had access to chakra, I couldn't help but wonder what effect opening those gates might have on me. Would they amplify my strength further? Unlock something new?

It was an intriguing possibility.

Still, my main focus wasn't on chakra. It was on another mystic art that the monks practiced.

Ki.

"Ki," the breath of the world, is no mere superstition. It is the river that runs through all things—the wind that dances on the blade of a leaf, the stillness between heartbeats, the silence that follows thunder. To the untrained, it is invisible. To the undisciplined, untouchable. But to a monk—to one who has walked the thousand silent steps—it is the weapon that needs no steel.

That was the exact wording from the guidebook.

And it didn't sound like just another name for chakra.

Chakra was internal, personal. Ki, whatever it was, seemed to be woven into the natural world. It might have just been the ramblings of a game designer trying to make a quick buck, but I wasn't going to dismiss it without giving it a real, honest try, too many other things lined up for me to dismiss it.

Lord Third had produced three Hokage-level shinobi, two of whom were born without clans. Under his tutelage, my future was all but guaranteed. I might not make S-rank, but elite jōnin was certainly within reach.

But that wasn't enough.

Not with what I had to protect.

Not with what I wanted to achieve.

I was a clanless orphan. I had no kekkei genkai. No bloodline limit to rely on. I needed an edge. If Ki existed—if it was real—that edge might lie there. And even if it wasn't, the training methods themselves would strengthen me, regardless of whether I mastered Ki or not.

I looked over the handwritten list of training methods. Daunting didn't even begin to describe them.

The Discipline of Breath

"The body begins with breath. So does power."

Training: Deep breath cycles, known as Stone Lung Meditation. Sit motionless for three hours at dawn. Breathe no more than four times per minute. If you faint, begin again.

Purpose: Slow the rhythm of life. Learn to listen to the world's Ki.

The Discipline of Pain

"If your skin is louder than your spirit, you cannot hear Ki."

Training: Barefoot walks across hot coals. Martial poses under icy waterfalls. Flat blades on bare skin. Hours of stillness while needles trace your meridians.

Purpose: Silence the body's screams. Train the mind to observe pain rather than flee from it. When pain becomes a whisper, you'll feel Ki in your blood.

The Discipline of Silence

"Words leak power. Stillness stores it."

Training: Thirty days of absolute silence. No speech, no gestures, no writing. Only listening. Only watching.

Purpose: Quiet the chaos of the mind. Thought sharpens like a blade drawn under moonlight.

The Discipline of Motion

"A mind that moves too fast cannot feel what stands still."

Training: Repeat a single kata one thousand times a day, for one hundred days. Every movement precise—no more, no less.

Purpose: Align the body perfectly with instinct and intent.

The Discipline of Humility

"You are not the source. You are the vessel."

Training: Serve others in silence for a year. As a cook, porter, healer, or servant. Expect no thanks. Seek no glory.

Purpose: Crush the ego. Ki avoids the arrogant like sunlight avoids a sealed jar.

The only one I could start immediately was Stone Lung Meditation. Maybe I could even simulate the discipline of pain with genjutsu. I was sure Kuro would happily help me—she was happy pretty much all the time these days.

I suppressed a blush when I considered the reasons behind that happiness.

Settling into meditation, I chose to replace my usual daily reflection with Stone Lung Meditation, trying to attune myself to the so-called "heartbeat of nature"—whatever that truly meant. Thankfully, I didn't pass out, though there were moments when it felt like I couldn't draw in enough air. Still, I endured.

Eventually, a strange serenity settled over me, and my chakra sense sharpened to an almost surreal degree. It felt as though even the floorboards beneath me pulsed with chakra. Yet, there was an elusive something—just beyond my grasp. No matter how intensely I focused, I couldn't pinpoint it.

With a quiet sigh, I accepted the mystery and settled in for the long haul, choosing patience over force.

I was just finishing my first session of meditation when Naruko shuffled in, still groggy, dressed in one of my shirts and a pair of her boxers. The shirt was oversized on her, considering I was tall for my age and she was… a bit of a midget.

She'd stayed the night again.

In fact, she'd stayed every night this week. It looked like this sleepover was going to be a permanent arrangement.

You wouldn't hear any complaints from me.

"Aaaah, Izukuuuu… I'm hungry," she yawned, shuffling into the kitchen with bedhead hair and sleep-heavy steps. She didn't wait for me—just started making food. I got the feeling she liked having someone around in the mornings, someone she could say things to.

"Good morning, Naruko," I said, watching her blonde mane disappear into the kitchen.

A week had passed since the Hokage took me as his student, and everything had changed. I didn't know what was going on in the village lately, but I didn't have time to ponder it. Every spare moment was dedicated to training. Kakashi was relentless.

Under him, I had improved fast.

My mage armor now covered my entire upper body except my abdomen. The academy's basic three? I could cast them at the speed of thought. Instantaneous. My genjutsu repertoire had shot up from a single D-rank to five distinct techniques.

All the girls were improving too.

Kuro… she absorbed genjutsu like a sponge. I pitied anyone who locked eyes with her. They'd be in for a world of pain.

Naruko hadn't learned many new jutsu, aside from Shadow Clone, but her chakra control kept improving. And with Gai-sensei drilling her in taijutsu, she was becoming something dangerous.

Hinata… she was still struggling. Improving, but slowly. Her biggest obstacle was her own nervousness.

But she wasn't giving up. I wasn't going to let her.

We'd figure it out.

A loud pop and a puff of smoke signaled Naruko using Shadow Clone. I felt her chakra signature multiply as her clones started prepping breakfast. A big one. Gai-sensei's training demanded high-protein meals.

"Breakfast!" she called as three clones carried in plates piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, boiled rice, and tomato sauce.

Simple, but solid.

"Thanks, Naruko," I said sincerely.

She blushed. "Well, you're letting me stay here, so I gotta do my part! Dig in, dattebayo!"

I didn't leave her hanging. I grabbed some sticky rice and egg with my chopsticks, took a bite.

Hmm. Sweet and salty. The eggs were fluffy, spiced just right with peppers and onions.

She really did a good job.

"So?" she asked, eyes wide with nervous anticipation.

"It's delicious, Naruko. You did wonderfully."

"Yatta!" she cheered, raising a fist triumphantly.

We ate in companionable silence, Naruko squirming with quiet joy. As soon as we were done, she packed up the dishes and bounced off to the kitchen. I watched her go—hair bobbing with every skip.

I doubted she was trying to be so… domestic. She just wasn't used to having anyone around to help with chores. Now that she was living here, she didn't relax—she doubled down. Took it upon herself to care for the apartment, to show her gratitude.

I was just as grateful, just happy to have her around. But even if I told her, I doubted she'd stop. She'd probably start pressing my clothes for the praise alone.

She wasn't acting differently. She wasn't suddenly a demure housewife. She was just… Naruko. Training one minute, cooking the next. Covered in bruises, then in an apron.

It was kind of beautiful.

Anyway, time to face the day.

—Scene break—

"Ku-kun~."

Kuro-chan sang my name as she skipped up to me the moment I walked into school. Her eyes glowed with a soft crimson light, Sharingan tomoe spinning lazily in each iris. No one reacted—of course. They couldn't see it. Her eyes were cloaked behind a stationary genjutsu, a visual illusion anchored to a specific place—namely, her own face.

The mechanics of it were beyond me, but I'd figure it out eventually… when I had the time. Lately, my focus has been pulled in too many directions, and truth be told, I was never particularly fond of genjutsu anyway.

Kuro had been especially affectionate with me lately. She slid up, linked her arm through mine, and nestled her face against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. She did it without a care in the world, unbothered by the fact that we had an audience.

But there was something… different about school today.

People were watching and whispering, which wasn't new. What was new was the way they did it. There was a hunger in their gazes that hadn't been there before. The girls, who once only dared to sneak glances, were now staring openly. Some even fluttered their lashes at me—blatantly—even with Kuro hanging off my arm.

What the hell was going on?

At lunch, I was approached by an upper-year student. He wore a green yukata made of expensive fabric and looked about fourteen or fifteen. He had purple hair tied in a neat ponytail, pale skin, and black eyes. Handsome, in a delicate, rich-boy sort of way.

"Good afternoon, Hanama-san. Hidachi-san," he said with a polite bow. "My name is Oboro Kaneki. May I request a moment of your time, Hanama-san?"

His tone was calm and respectful. He didn't look at Kuro. At all.

Maybe he was afraid of her. If he was, that made him smart—but I didn't think that was it. He didn't carry the energy of someone afraid. It felt more like… avoidance.

"Where would this conversation take place?" I asked, implicitly agreeing. I wasn't as eager to network as I used to be, but that didn't mean I should ignore opportunities when they came knocking.

We found a quiet table in the cafeteria, tucked in a corner near a window overlooking one of Tobirama Prep's many gardens. A girl—no, a young woman—was already seated there. She looked somewhere between seventeen and nineteen and bore a striking resemblance to Oboro-san. She was, frankly, beautiful.

She gave me a flirtatious smile. I returned a polite one.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Kuro slip on one of her many masks. I recognized it immediately—the same one she wore during our presentation. The one she used in polite company. Elegant, serene, unreadable.

"Oboro-san," I said, taking my seat, "what did you wish to discuss?"

He looked nervous.

"Thank you for your time, Hanama-san." His deference caught me off guard. "This is my sister. She is highly educated and of marrying age. The Oboro Clan would like to officially engage in marriage talks with you, Hanama-san."

I stared at him.

I waited for the punchline. The laughter, the prank reveal.

None came.

He wasn't joking.

I leaned back, inhaled deeply, doing my best to hide the shock from my face and buy myself a few seconds to think. The reason came to me fast.

"…Is this because of my recent change in status?"

"Yes. To be perfectly transparent, Hanama-san, my family would profit greatly from the privileges your proxy status provides."

He wasn't wrong. I'd read up on it. The benefits were absurd—tax exemptions, interest-free loans, preferential treatment in government contracts, and access to skilled labor. It was business paradise.

"I appreciate the honesty—and the offer," I said, keeping my tone diplomatic. The fox in me wanted to dance around the answer, but—

"I'm already promised," I added, taking Kuro's hand under the table.

I had a very dangerous girl to keep in check. And Operation: Waifu Husbandry was nowhere near the point where I could even think about entertaining additional love interests—no matter how blurry things were getting with Naruko. Kuro was the only girl I was definitely involved with, and until I was absolutely certain adding anyone wouldn't lead to a pillow to the face—

…Okay, even I admit that joke was messed up.

"That is understandable," Oboro said smoothly. "We do have a younger sister—less prominent, but equally beautiful. She does not have to be the main wife."

His sister didn't flinch. No disappointment. No relief. Just… nothing. A doll.

Creepy.

I opened my mouth to refuse again—but Kuro spoke first.

"We'll need to deliberate," she said, giving a smile eerily similar to Oboro's sister's.

I didn't miss the implication—we would need to deliberate. Like she had a say in who I married.

Oboro didn't miss it either. His eyes flicked between us.

"I see. It was a pleasure speaking with you, Hanama-san. I know you'll make the decision that benefits both our families," he said, his tone polite, his smile sharper now. He turned to leave, his sister trailing behind.

She didn't glance back—until he wasn't looking. Then she gave me a smile so saucy I felt my cholesterol spike.

Lady. I'm eleven.

Once they were gone, I turned to Kuro. "Why would we need to deliberate?"

"The Oboro Clan are shipping magnates," she said, her eyes lighting up now that it was just the two of us. Her voice was cool, analytical. "They have considerable influence."

"You have dreams. Ko-chan and Ta-chan have dreams. Do you know what makes dreams easier to achieve?"

I blinked at the new nicknames but answered instinctively. "Money."

"Money," she agreed.

"Ko-chan wants to be Hokage. Ta-chan wants to be a good clan head. And you… what do you want, Ku-kun?" she asked, her black eyes spinning red again. Her gaze bore into me.

She did that a lot now. Watched me with those eyes. I couldn't blame her. If I had a Sharingan, I'd probably do the same. Use them to memorize the people I loved.

And as for my dream?

"…An easy life with people I love," I said after some thought. "Not very impressive."

"No. It's a beautiful dream, Ku-kun," she said softly.

"A dream made easier with money, for money greases all wheels," she added, the second part sounding like a quote from someone else—probably her father. A merchant's daughter, through and through.

I sighed. She wasn't wrong. But still.

"So what? You want me to marry one of that guy's sisters?" I asked, skeptical.

"It would be a sound business move," she replied with a casual nod.

Was this a test?

"…I'm sorry if this is presumptuous, but don't you want to marry me?" I asked, a blush creeping into my cheeks. Curse these hormones.

"Of course I do. And of course, both I and Ko-chan would be of higher standing than her. But marriage is far too valuable as a business tool to remove from the table entirely," she said, rolling her eyes like it was obvious.

What? What?!

"She could be a concubine. Most wealthy clan heads have one or two," she added, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

I stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

"Ah, I forgot. Shinobi-raised," she said, noticing my expression. "Monogamy is for poor people and ninja, Ku-kun." She pinched my cheek. "Honestly, you're so precious."

"I'm not sure Naruko would be fine with sharing," I muttered.

"You might be right. Leave that to me."

Before I could argue, the bell rang. Kuro kissed me on the cheek and skipped off to class, leaving me to wonder what the hell just happened.

—Scene break—

I didn't see Kuro again for the rest of the school day, and by the time we were let out, Kakashi dragged us off to the training grounds too quickly for me to ask about what had happened earlier.

When we arrived, Team 10 was already there—looking bored and drained, no doubt from a full day of C-ranks and whatever brutal exercise Gai-sensei had inflicted on them.

"Well… most of them."

I wasn't sure Lee actually understood the concept of fatigue.

Kuro wandered off with Kakashi soon after. Her physical conditioning still wasn't up to enduring Gai-sensei's training regimen, and Kakashi was the only instructor in the village qualified to teach the Sharingan—especially with the added secrecy of not letting Team 10 in on the S-class secret that was The Bastard Uchiha.

After my daily beating at the hands of Lee, I collapsed under the shade of a tree, wheezing and trying to catch my breath while Naruko and Hinata took their turn in the ring.

"You've been making progress."

I shot upright, ignoring the ache in my limbs at the sound of that familiar voice.

Standing there, calm and unreadable as ever, was my sensei.

Hiruzen Sarutobi.

The Third Hokage.

"We're due for a conversation, Izuku-kun."