Naruto - The God of Shinobi

One week later -

After living through this insane schedule for a while, I had to admit—I wasn't a machine. No matter how much I wanted to push myself, going all out for an entire year without rest was just unrealistic. My body wasn't unbreakable, and my mind wasn't invincible. If I kept this up without any breathing space, I'd burn out before I even reached my real goals.

So, from yesterday, I made some adjustments. The plan was still intense, but now it had enough room for rest so I wouldn't lose motivation and could actually keep going long-term.

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I started my mornings with physical training right after waking up. But instead of just running, I made a little tweak—running on the walls inside my room. This way, my physical endurance and chakra control would improve together. If I was going to train, I might as well be efficient.

During academy hours, I sat at the back, seemingly paying attention but actually working on two things at once. I focused on cutting a metal piece with my wind nature chakra—a slow and frustrating process but necessary. At the same time, I practiced forming chakra threads. So far, I had managed to form a thin thread, but controlling it? That was another beast entirely. I couldn't even estimate how long it would take to thread from all my fingers and manipulate objects properly. Maybe a full year. Maybe more. But I had a reason for this effort, and I knew it would be worth it in the long run.

Once the academy ended, I headed to the library to study different fields. Just for an hour. After that, I spent my evenings alone, practicing taijutsu katas and strengthening my pink muscles.

Some days, I felt exhausted. My body ached. My fingers throbbed from overusing my chakra. And my mind screamed for a break.

But every time I thought of stopping, I remembered Okabe-sensei's words from class:

"You move well, but you're fighting like a wild animal."

That stuck with me. No matter how strong I became, if I didn't know how to fight properly, I'd get crushed the moment I faced someone skilled. Strength without technique was useless. That was enough to keep me going.

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One evening, I tried practicing hand seals by myself. Big mistake. I thought it was just about forming the right shape with my fingers, but it was way more complicated than that. I needed to release chakra in a specific flow while making the seals, and without proper knowledge, I was just making random hand signs like a fool.

That's when I had an idea.

Since I was in the academy, why not use my resources? Specifically, my teachers. And who better than Iruka-sensei, our chakra theory instructor? The same Iruka-sensei who would later become a teacher and guardian to Naruto.

For the past week, I had observed him. Unlike some other instructors, Iruka genuinely wanted his students to survive. Not just become shinobi quickly, but actually live. Maybe I was biased because I had watched him in the anime, but from what I had seen, he was a good teacher.

So, I decided to talk to him.

A Conversation with Iruka

Inside the teacher's cabin…

I knocked and stepped in, spotting Iruka going through some papers. He looked up and recognized me almost immediately.

"Oh, Kazeo. Good evening!" he greeted with a small smile. "What brings you here this late?"

I took a deep breath. "Sensei, I was in the library reading about jutsus, but the scrolls say they require hand seals. I tried them, but… I can't make a jutsu work."

Iruka's expression shifted slightly. He leaned back and sighed. "Kazeo, the academy teaches jutsus after six months. Why are you trying to learn by yourself?"

I hesitated for a moment, pretending to be uncertain. "Sensei… I heard some of my classmates can already perform jutsus, but I can't. I don't want to fall behind."

That was only half a lie. I did want to surpass them, but saying that outright wouldn't have helped my case.

Iruka rubbed his forehead. "They're from clans, Kazeo. Their families have already trained them. But don't worry—you'll learn it in due time."

I lowered my head slightly and, with the best puppy-eyed look I could muster, said, "But Sensei… I really don't want to be behind. Please, just teach me this one thing. I won't try to learn more than one jutsu. Pretty please?"

Iruka let out a deep sigh, clearly struggling to say no. After a moment, he finally gave in. "Fine. I'll teach about it in the next class. But promise me one thing—you will NOT learn any fire jutsus without proper guidance."

I nodded quickly. "I promise, Sensei! Thank you!"

He ruffled my hair and asked about my studies, even inquiring about my friends. It was a nice conversation. A reminder that despite everything, I was still just a kid in the academy. After that, I left to continue my training.

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Three days later, as promised, Iruka dedicated two entire sessions to hand seals.

I finally understood why jutsus required them. Hand seals weren't just random gestures; they were intricate movements that molded chakra in specific ways. There were twelve primary seals, each controlling chakra differently, and the more complex a jutsu, the more seals it required.

Then there were exceptions—elite shinobi like Hashirama could use advanced techniques with minimal or no seals, but that required insane chakra control and years of experience.

At the end of the lessons, Iruka personally helped each student with chakra molding. Unsurprisingly, only the clan kids succeeded immediately. I struggled at first but got the hang of it after the second session. Now, I could finally try learning real jutsus in my one-hour library time.

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While looking for new things to study, I stumbled upon something interesting—Kenjutsu.

Kenjutsu wasn't just swinging a sword. It was the art of blending precision, power, and chakra into a deadly dance.

One line from the scroll stood out to me:

"The true mastery of Kenjutsu lies not in the blade, but in the fluidity of movement, in understanding the opponent's rhythm, and in anticipating the next strike before it's even made."

I was intrigued. But for now, Kenjutsu could wait. I wouldn't be fighting anyone seriously for another year or two.

Similarly, I found scrolls on Medical Ninjutsu and Genjutsu.

Medical Ninjutsu required full-time dedication, so I set it aside for the future.

Genjutsu? I wasn't sure if I had talent for it yet, so I'd check it out after becoming a Genin or Chunin.

But the biggest shock came when I found a scroll on meditation techniques in the D-rank section.

Meditation wasn't just for focus. It actually helped increase chakra reserves. The scroll detailed proper breathing techniques, sitting positions, and chakra circulation exercises. If I wanted to grow stronger, I needed this.

So, I decided—I'd start meditating from tomorrow.

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I grabbed a pencil and paper and wrote down my new schedule:

Monday to Friday:

Wake up → Meditation → Wall running

Academy

Wind nature training + Chakra threading

Hand seals + Chakra molding (one hour)

Taijutsu katas + Pink muscle training

Sleep

Saturday:

Shuriken & kunai throwing instead of Taijutsu

Sunday:

Only Meditation + Chakra threading. Full rest day.

For food… I still relied on ration bars. I tried cooking on Sundays, but to be honest—what I made wasn't edible.

Once I mastered hand seals, I'd start learning basic wind jutsus. Step by step, I was getting there.

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After 3 weeks of living alone -

The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the village as Kazeo stepped out of his small apartment. It had been three weeks since he passed the academy exam, and his life had settled into a routine—training, studying, eating ration bars or whatever he could cook and then sleeping. A normal cycle. A productive one.

And yet… something felt off.

He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. Living alone isn't as glamorous as he thought… It was kinda lonely.

He made his way to the marketplace, navigating through the bustling streets. The scent of grilled skewers mixed with the sharp tang of fresh vegetables filled the air, making his stomach growl.

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That same evening,

On his way back home , he stumbled upon a festival. Paper lanterns lined the streets, illuminating the faces of villagers enjoying the festivities. The sound of taiko drums echoed in the air as children ran past him, laughing.

He hadn't planned to stop—he had food to cook, training to do—but a tug on his sleeve made him pause.

A classmate from the academy, a loudmouth named Renji, grinned at him. "Oi, Kazeo! You're here too?"

"Just passing by."

"No way! You gotta try this!" Renji shoved a stick of dango into his hands.

Kazeo hesitated, but after taking a bite, his eyes widened slightly. Sweet , soft , warm. He hadn't had something like this in weeks.

Renji grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward a game stall. "Come on, test your aim!"

Kazeo rolled his eyes but played along. He picked up a kunai and aimed at the target. It was rigged—he could tell—but with precise control, he adjusted his throw, landing a perfect hit.

The vendor blinked in surprise before reluctantly handing him a small plush fox. Kazeo stared at it, unsure what to do with it.

Renji laughed. "You look like you have no idea what fun is."

Kazeo snorted. "And you look like an idiot holding three stuffed animals."

Renji grinned. "At least I'm an idiot who knows how to enjoy life."

For a moment, Kazeo just stood there, taking in the laughter, the lights, the warmth of the village.

Maybe Renji had a point.

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The next morning -

A wet, half-soapy shirt smacked against his cheek as he tried to scrub it clean. His small apartment had no washing machine, so he had to do it by hand.

"Tch… why is this so difficult?" he muttered, scrubbing harder.

He had underestimated how tough laundry could be. The soap was too strong, the water too cold, and his hands ached from wringing out the fabric. After nearly half an hour, he proudly held up his washed shirt… only to realize it had shrunk.

Kazeo groaned. "Great. Now I have a crop top."

A knock on his door interrupted his suffering.

He opened it to see the orphanage caretaker, the old woman who raised him. She took one look at his laundry disaster and sighed.

"You're hopeless."

Kazeo frowned. "I was figuring it out."

She chuckled, stepping inside. "Come here. I'll teach you properly."

She guided him through the steps—how to soak, how to wring, how to dry. It was a simple thing, but something about it felt warm. Like a piece of home still lingering in his new life.

Before she left, she placed a small bag on his table. "It's miso soup and rice. You can't live on instant ramen or ration bars forever."

Kazeo watched as she walked away, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He swallowed it down and whispered,

"…Thanks, Grandma."

Later that day, as he sat outside reading a cooking book, a small black cat limped toward him. It was thin, its fur dirty, eyes tired.

Kazeo sighed. "Another stray."

The cat meowed weakly.

With a resigned shake of his head, he reached into his bag, breaking off a piece of dried fish. "Fine. But don't get used to it."

The cat hesitated before snatching the food and eating greedily.

Kazeo leaned back, watching the sun set. "Guess we're both just figuring things out, huh?"

The cat purred in response, curling up beside him.

Maybe… just maybe, he wasn't as alone as he thought.

Some days later -

Kazeo was strolling through the streets of Konoha when, just as he turned a corner near an alleyway, a sudden *whoosh* of air sent a chill down his spine.

A masked ninja appeared right in front of him, dressed in dark clothing, his presence nearly suffocating. Kazeo stopped immediately, his instincts flaring.

The ninja's voice was cold and neutral. "Kazeo"

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(To be Continued...)