Naruto - The God of Shinobi

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After tour -

Kazeo flipped through the pages of a worn-out book, his fingers running absently over the ink-stained paper. The library was quiet, save for the soft murmurs of students whispering among themselves. Shafts of golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows over the wooden desks.

He exhaled, leaning back against his chair, exhaustion tugging at his bones.

His schedule was suffocating. He had been excited about the academy. He had imagined sparring matches, learning jutsu, diving into the secrets of chakra. But the reality?

Math, Biology, History.

"Why does this world need algebra when we can throw fireballs?"

His lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced around. Other students seemed more engaged—scribbling notes, scanning scrolls, chatting in hushed voices. Some looked determined. Others bored. A few threw glances his way, whispering behind their hands.

"Kazeo-kun, right? The one who hit Okabe-sensei?"

"Yeah, I still can't believe it. Sensei didn't even dodge…"

"It had to be a fluke. There's no way a civilian orphan could pull that off."

Kazeo ignored them, turning another page without reading a single word.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. Training alone wasn't enough—he needed to get his hands on better techniques, stronger jutsu. 

"Kazeo?"

A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see a familiar face—Shin, one of the civilian students, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. His brown eyes darted around nervously.

"Yeah?"

Shin hesitated, then leaned in slightly. "Do you… do you think we even have a chance?"

Kazeo blinked. "What?"

Shin glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. "I mean… against them. The clan kids. Uchiha, Hyuga, Senju—hell, even the Inuzuka are stronger than us. We're just civilians."

Kazeo studied him. He could see the doubt eating away at him. The same doubt that every orphan, every non-clan kid in the class probably felt.

"Do we even belong here?"

He exhaled. "You saw me in class, right?"

Shin nodded hesitantly.

"And?"

"You landed a hit on Okabe-sensei."

"Exactly." Kazeo closed his book with a soft thud. "Doesn't matter if we're from a clan or not. Strength is strength."

Shin's lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to argue, but he didn't. Instead, he nodded, a flicker of something—hope?—in his eyes.

As Shin walked away, Kazeo leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

The path ahead was brutal. The expectations suffocating. But he didn't have a choice.

He wasn't going to let anyone—Hiruzen, Danzo, or fate itself—decide his worth.

He would carve his own path.

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After a week -

I had imagined the academy to be a place where we'd at least start learning the three basic jutsus—Clone, Transformation, and Substitution—right away. Maybe some cool training montages, maybe even sparring with kunai dummies like in those stories.

But reality? Reality was cruel.

Okabe-sensei had crushed my hopes with a single sentence: "You will start learning jutsus after six months."

Six Months.

I stared blankly at my open textbook, the neatly written kanji blurring together.

So instead of jutsu practice, my daily schedule had turned into something straight out of a horror story—wake up to aching muscles that screamed louder than any alarm clock, push my body past its limits until I teetered on the edge of collapse, drain my chakra reserves to the point where even breathing felt like a chore, repeat the same dull taijutsu katas that made watching paint dry seem thrilling, then sit through academy lessons that somehow made my past life's schooling feel like an action-packed thriller.

By the time I dragged myself to bed, my limbs were lead, my eyelids sandpaper, and my body so wrecked that even twelve hours of sleep barely felt like enough.

Where was my free time? My peaceful afternoons? My chilling moments where I could just chill?

I slumped back in my chair and let out a long, slow sigh, dragging a hand down my face. If my soul had any tears left to cry, they'd be pouring right now.

Across the library, hushed whispers floated through the air.

"Man, I thought we'd be throwing fireballs by now"

"Six months just for basic jutsu? I bet my clan will teach me faster"

"At least you guys have clans. We civilians have to figure it all out ourselves"

I sat up and shook my head. Moping wouldn't change anything. If I had to push through this ridiculous schedule for a year before I could ask for something valuable from Hiruzen, then so be it.

But still… what should I ask for?

"Should I ask for the Shadow Clone Jutsu as my reward?"

It would make my training infinitely more efficient. But the moment I asked, the Hokage would start questioning how much chakra I had. And that was a dangerous road to walk.

Kazeo let out a slow breath, but the unease in his gut didn't fade. His mind drifted back to yesterday's walk—how his feet had carried him a little too close to that building.

The Torture and Interrogation Department.

Even now, the screams clung to him, buried in his skull like they'd been carved there. Some had begged—voices cracked, desperate, tripping over themselves in frantic pleas. Others had just sobbed, hollow and broken, like they already knew there was no escape.

The air had smelled different there. Heavy , Metallic. Like blood that had seeped too deep into the walls to ever fade.

Kazeo shuddered.

He hadn't even seen anything. Just heard. Just felt.

And that had been enough.

"Even if I tell him the truth about my abilities, who's to say he won't have me dragged there for answers?"

No, he needed to be patient. Asking for the Shadow Clone Jutsu too soon would expose too much. He'd have to wait at least a year—enough time to establish trust, to build up a believable reason for needing it.

For now, he needed a different reward. Something that wouldn't raise suspicion but could still help him grow.

More whispers drifted in from a nearby table.

"I heard the library has up to B-rank jutsus."

"Yeah, but only elite Chunin can access those."

"Forget that! The A-rank and S-rank jutsus are locked away. You need Hokage's personal permission for those."

"Tch, as if we'd ever get that."

He frowned slightly. So that's how it worked.

To even apply for access to A-rank jutsus, you needed either massive contributions to Konoha or a Jounin-level status with a certain number of missions.

He exhaled through his nose, staring at the ceiling.

The academy library had a clear structure.

Section 0: Open to all citizens. Basic theories, historical texts—nothing useful for a shinobi.

E-Rank : Available to all academy students. Basic jutsu like the Clone Technique, Transformation, and Substitution.

D-Rank : Available to the top 30 students of each academic year batch and newly promoted Genins.

C-Rank and above? Locked away. Restricted to active shinobi and those who earned the right.

B-Rank techniques? Reserved for elite Chunin.

A-Rank and S-Rank? Off-limits unless the Hokage himself granted access.

And If the Hokage rejected someone's request, they'd be blacklisted from applying for months.

'How the hell does he even decide who gets in ?'

Kazeo's fingers tapped rhythmically against the table as he mulled over the problem.

So everything comes down to impressing the old man.

He needed to build a reputation—show Hiruzen that he wasn't just some kid with a strong soul but someone with real, tangible worth.

Fortunately, he had already taken the first step. Landing that hit on Okabe might not seem like much to others, but to him, it was crucial.

When he first spoke with Hiruzen, he had a nagging feeling—like the old man's interest wasn't in his potential or abilities, but rather in his soul. It was subtle, but Kazeo could tell.

That didn't sit right with him.

He refused to be valued only for something out of his control. He needed Hiruzen to see —his worth beyond just his existence.

And that strike against Okabe? That was his way of making sure the Hokage knew he had more to offer.

Now, all that was left was to train like a madman for the next year—to prove beyond any doubt that he needed the Shadow Clone Jutsu.

Because from this point on, Hiruzen would be watching.

And Kazeo would make damn sure he saw exactly why he deserved it.

[ Author here !

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