Chapitre 22: CH_22
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The link is also in the synopsis
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AN: FUCK! — [Nov 24, 2022]
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Another day rolled in, and like every morning, Takuma found himself in the middle of the field, sitting on the ground, doing the post-training stretches so he could leave the training session and return to get his day started.
"You seem down, young Takuma," Maruboshi, performing the same stretches by the side, asked.
Takuma pursed his lips into a line. "I... I think it'd be better to practice the hand seal combination of two seals before trying to learn Henge no Jutsu (Transformation Jutsu)."
Maruboshi looked surprised.
Takuma stretched his torso forward to grab the sole of his outstretched feet with his hands. He repeatedly knocked his forehead on his shin with an inaudible groaning.
It had been a few days since Takuma had begun learning the Henge no Jutsu. Every morning, Maruboshi would set out a quarter of an hour in their time to guide him on the jutsu. Throughout the day, Takuma would try to cast the jutsu in his free time and during the scheduled period during his evening training. But no matter how many times he tried, the chakra rattled out of his control, failing the jutsu invocation.
He couldn't understand. After learning the Bunshin no Jutsu (Clone Jutsu) in three tries, why was Henge no Jutsu taking so much time— he couldn't even get past the first hand seal! It looked like he had lucked out by making clones.
A horrifying thought appeared in Takuma's mind. What if Bunshin no Jutsu was to him what Kage Bunshin no Jutsu (Shadow Clone Jutsu) was to Naruto? The blonde protagonist has learned the highly advanced jutsu quickly, clearly showing an affinity with the jutsu. What if Takuma's special affinity was associated with Bunshin no Jutsu, a useless jutsu that couldn't even be used in the field.
Takuma felt sick in the stomach.
"You must not feel down about the jutsu," Maruboshi said with a kind smile. "It took your classmates much longer than you to perform the Henge no Jutsu than you have been trying. You will be able to perform it one day."
"My classmates were eight-years-old; I'm almost eleven; I should learn the jutsu faster than them." It had taken him seven months, but he had covered nearly four years of academy theoretical material— why should learning jutsu be any different?
Takuma got up and half-heartedly dusted himself. "I will go. Thanks for today," he said to Maruboshi before heading out to the training field.
On the way home, Takuma began thinking about the graduation test; the first attempt was in less than two weeks. Thinking about giving the exam made Takuma's body feel heavy. According to the chatter he had heard from his classmates' conversation, the test was divided into two parts— a theoretical and a practical portion. Both portions were divided into sub-parts. The theoretical portion consisted of a standard pen-and-paper test and a face-to-face oral viva-voce with an invigilator. The practical portion was made up of a taijutsu spar, a weapon handling part, a demonstration of the academy three, and a miscellaneous part in which the invigilator could ask anything that hadn't been asked.
There wasn't a single part of the test he felt he could perform well. He still had one year of academic material left that set him back in the pen-and-paper test. There was nothing to be said about his taijutsu skills, his shurikenjutsu had exceeded the passable grade- but they were nothing spectacular, Bunshin no Jutsu was the only academy three he could perform. He could only hope that he would luck out in the viva-voce questioning and the miscellaneous portion of the practical portion, and the invigilator would ask him something he knew.
Takuma sighed. He didn't have high hopes for his luck helping him; fates hadn't been good to him in a while.
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In the academy classroom, Takuma tapped the back of the pencil against his desk. His time in the academy was dedicated to learning the theoretical material so that he could focus on practical skills after school hours. But today, he couldn't concentrate; the thought of opening the book seemed like a massive downer.
'Ugh, what don't they understand by: silence in the classroom?' Takama frowned deeply, and his pencil tapping became more forceful.
He preferred background noise to pin-drop silence during studying. It helped him concentrate; he regularly used the classroom whispers and Kibe's voice as his background noise. He welcomed them. But today, they seem unbearable to listen to, stroking the fire of irritation he felt.
There was only one time in the militant drill sergeant-like Kibe's lessons that the class dared to talk above whispers. Takuma didn't have to open his eyes to know that Kibe was in front of the classroom, personally guiding one of his classmates with either Henge no Jutsu or Bunshin no Jutsu.
Every day, Kibe would call some of his students, one at a time, and ask them to demonstrate one of the academy three. The demonstration would be followed by a guidance session with Kibe pointing out the discrepancies and providing possible tips.
'Nothing to do with me,' Takuma thought as bitterness grabbed him. Kibe had stopped calling him long ago; after numerous times failing to even produce a faulty clone or transformation, it seemed Kibe had given up. He was delighted when he realized he wasn't being called anymore. He didn't have to embarrass himself in front of the entire classroom anymore, Takuma had thought with delight.
But now... Takuma clicked his tongue. Now that he could mold chakra and even perfectly perform the Bunshin no Jutsu, the sweet delight had turned into burning bile. The realization that he had been given up on and deemed a failure and lost cause brought feelings up from deep within.
"Sensei," an annoying voice cut through the chit chat, "you haven't called Takuma up in months. Why is that?"
Takuma's eyes snapped open, and he lifted his chin from his palm to look around the class to find the source of the voice. He knew who it was before he found Hiji sitting on the other side of the classroom with his posse of friends on the backbenches. The Inuzuka boy smirked at Takuma, showing he knew exactly what he was doing.
Takuma clenched his jaw but kept his expression schooled. I'm unaffected. He repeated the words like a chant in his mind. He couldn't give Hiji the satisfaction of getting any sort of reaction out of him.
"Oh, shut up, Hiji! Do you have no shame?" another voice sounded from another part of the classroom.
Takuma turned to the front of the classroom and saw a brunette girl with shoulder-length cinnamon-brown hair staring up at Hiji with a frown.
Okubo Momoe. Takuma recognized the girl, and his eyes narrowed when he felt a sense of green jealousy burn inside him. He flexed his neck and tensed his body until an intense wave of jealousy passed through him. He let out a deep breath as he relaxed his body.
He held no strong feelings towards Okubo Momoe— but the same couldn't be said about the 'boy,' the original Takuma. After living in the body for half a year, he realized that even though the boy hadn't left behind his memories, he had left something else behind. Takuma had recognized Kibe when he had found himself in the boy; he had found his way home the same day— and similarly, some things brought up the remnants in the form of emotions/sentiments.
Momoe invoked the boy's sharp sense of jealousy. After observing the girl for a week or so, Takuma deduced the reason behind the sentiment.
Among their peers, Momoe placed at the top in terms of academic scores and practical shinobi skills— no matter what it was, from ninjutsu to strategy, Momoe was good at literally everything— a true overachiever, the perfect shinobi candidate. She wasn't as good as Uchiha Izumi when it came to taijutsu or had the chakra control rivaling Inuzuka Hana or raw power compared to Akimichi Hideaki— but whatever it was, if she wasn't number one, she was number two. And at least number two in everything was much more competent than number one at one thing.
She had a natural charisma that attracted people to her, and when combined with her skills, it was only natural that she sat on the top of the social ladder. On top of that, Okubo Momoe came from a civilian background, with her parents owning a business in Leaf village— her detractors couldn't even point out that her skills were cultivated with the help of a shinobi clan.
'She's everything the boy isn't,' was Takuma's theory behind the feeling of jealousy.
The boy was a poor student; Momoe could seemingly do everything. The boy had no friends; Momoe was surrounded by people who wanted to be her friends. The boy was ignored; Momoe was praised. The boy would return home to nobody waiting for him; Momoe would be greeted by a complete family back home.
"What, I was just—"
"We know what you're doing, so stop it, you jerk." Momoe turned to the other Inuzuka in the class and said, "Control your rabid brother, Hana."
Hana narrowed her eyes. "Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it if I don't?" Her three ash-gray ninken jumped up on the table, staring at Momoe.
Hiji snorted in laughter, looking confident with his cousin supporting him. "Know your place, Okube," he said.
"Oh, shut your trap, Hiji," Hana glared at Hiji.
Izumi sitting beside Hana looked at the quarreling parties and tried to abate the situation. "Let's not fight, okay? We can talk about this calmly," she said. But Momoe was already exchanging words with Hiji and Hana.
Takuma observed the situation from his seat. Momoe and the Inuzukas were now fighting with each other, forgetting that he was the initial subject of the discussion, which Takuma preferred.
But it seemed not everyone had forgotten about it.
"Takuma, come up," Kibe sighed.
Takuma could feel the eyes following him as he walked down the classroom steps toward the front. He looked up at Kibe, who had only called him up because he was called out by Hiji. Takuma could see Kibe didn't want to do this, and seeing that look, he felt his mood sour more than before.
"Show me Bushin no Jutsu," Kibe said, his tone giving the impression he wanted to get this over as soon as possible.
Takuma raised a brow. Was luck finally going his way? He straightened up and joined his hands to form the hand seals for the Bunshin no Jutsu.
Ram — Snake — Tiger
Poof! The smoke cleared, and two clone-Takuma stood alongside the real Takuma.
The raucous laughter from Hiji abruptly stopped as the entire classroom went silent. Every pair of eyes were focused on the three Takuma standing in front of the classroom. Takuma could practically hear their thoughts: The only person in the room who couldn't do a jutsu to save his life now had two clones standing with him.
Kibe stared at Takuma and clones with his eyes wide in surprise. Several seconds passed in silence between Kibe and Takuma as they stared at each other.
"Can I go back now?" Takuma asked.
Kibe's eyes widened more. He was looking at the Takuma who stood nearest to him, but the Takuma who had spoken now was the one standing the furthest to him. He reached out his hand to the Takuma next to him, and it passed right through and when he clenched his fist, Takuma disappeared like he never existed. Kibe's eyes didn't move to the real Takuma who had spoken but to the other clone who remained.
Takuma titled his head, confused by the action. 'Maybe he's observing the quality of my clone,' he thought.
"You can go now," Kibe said.
Takuma dispersed the clone and walked back to his seat. He kept his eyes straight ahead. He didn't look at Hiji or Momoe or Izumi or anyone. He sat down on his seat, took out his book, and started reading.
Even though he was no longer irritated and not in the mood to study, he still couldn't concentrate on the words as his eyes cruised over the page. He was too busy keeping the smile off his face.
Today's academy was fun, he felt.
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———
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The link is in the synopsis!
Chapitre 23: CH_23
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis
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Takuma's chin rested on his palms with his fingers cupping his face; his right foot had grown a mind of its own and wouldn't stop fidgeting. His stomach also didn't seem to be doing well from all the gurgling he was hearing from inside.
He restlessly looked around the noisy classroom that matched his nervous energy. His classmates sat in groups around the room, huddled together, discussing among themselves. Only he sat alone in the corner. He wondered what they were talking about and if it could come up in the graduation test that was about to happen.
Time had passed in the blink of an eye, and it had already been over seven months since he had found himself in the fictional world, inhabiting an unknown orphan's body. The seven months were the most challenging times he had ever lived through. Everything from the looming threat of becoming a shinobi with no skills to survive to the immediate financial situation had him look at things he had never done before. His sense of priorities had revised more in these months than in all the years he had lived in his previous life.
"Akimichi Hideaki."
The classroom door slid upon with a rattle; Kibe peeked in and called for the next student in line.
The bulky Akimichi stood up from his desk, where already-eaten packaged food wrappers had piled up. The usually taciturn Hideaki, who rarely showed exaggerated expression on his chubby face, looked visibly unsettled. The back of his red samue was drenched in sweat. Even more shocking was the unopened bag of chips in Hideaki's hands— as long as there was something in his hands, he was eating it, and seeing that the bag remained sealed illustrated how Hideaki was feeling.
Takuma rubbed the side of his palm, stained with blue ink marks. The pen-and-paper part of the theoretical portion was already done first thing in the morning. His performance hadn't been satisfactory. The plan from the start had been to correctly attempt fifty percent of the paper as that was the passing grade for the test. He wanted to at least pass the test on his first attempt and improve in the subsequent attempts.
Takuma clenches his right hand tightly, digging his trimmed nails into the flesh. He had attempted fifty percent of the paper as planned, but those attempts weren't correct. Coming out of the examination hall, Takuma knew how many of his attempts were correct— his answers weren't enough to get him a passing grade.
'I should've focused more on history and tactics,' he thought with regret. His approach to exam preparation was to focus on his strengths and practice them enough to easily answer any related question. The efforts bore fruit; Takuma responded to math, physics, and finance questions with ease. But he had been horrible at tactics and strategy— half of the questions he didn't even know how to answer, the ones he knew he couldn't see through to a final answer. It didn't help that the topics he had learned from Maruboshi were too different from what came in the test. What hurt the most was history, which he considered to be a moderate strength— the questions that came were from topics he had strategically chosen to set aside in order to manage time in preparation. The questions from his strengths didn't have enough weightage in the question sheet to get him to pass. And he knew he hadn't done well enough in other topics to bridge the gap.
The viva-voce was yet to be conducted. Takuma prayed to the fates that the invigilator would ask easy questions, or better, those he knew the answer to.
Every other minute or three, Kibe would step through the door and call for one student. With every student left, the classroom became emptier as those who left didn't return, which displeased all. If the people who went for the test returned, those yet to be called could've calmed their nerves by hearing the account of those already tested.
"Takuma."
He stood up in a rush upon hearing his name. If his chair wasn't a long bench bolted to the floor, Takuma would've knocked it back. He gathered his belongings into the pouches on his person and scuttled out of the room.
Outside the classroom, Kibe led him across the corridor to the testing hall.
"The invigilators will first test your bukijutsu (weapon skills), then ask you two to demonstrate ninjutsu, followed by a taijutsu spar, and end it with something of their choice," Kibe said, breaking the silence.
"Spar against whom?" asked Takuma.
"One of the invigilators."
Takuma narrowed his eyes. He had assumed and preferred that it would be one of his classmates so that he could adjust his plan going into the fight in accordance with their fighting style.
"The invigilators are senior chunin. The aim of the spar isn't to beat them but to show them the full breadth of your skill," said Kibe.
Takuma nodded. He had figured out that much.
The pair reached the testing hall, which Takuma recognized to be an auditorium hall. It was used when the academy needed a large space indoors. He hadn't been inside because their class never needed it, but he knew it was used for the graduation ceremony.
Kibe put his hand on the handle slit in the door but didn't open it right away. He looked at Takuma and asked, "How many of the academy three can you do?"
Takuma was taken aback at the sudden question. Kibe had never expressed any interest in him in any form, making surprise the natural reaction in the situation.
"If you can do all three and your paper is decent, even if you do badly in everything else, there's a real chance you could pass. Pass in this and improve in the next two attempts. You did Bunshin no Jutsu (Clone Jutsu) that day; can you do the other two as well?"
Since the day Takuma had performed the Bunshin no Jutsu in class, Kibe hadn't called him up again. Takuma knew Kibe had long given up on him, and it made him wonder why he was bringing this up now.
'Is he feeling a late sense of responsibility?' Takuma thought— or was it guilt that Kibe was feeling?
Whatever it was, Takuma didn't care. His attention was caught by something else Kibe had said. '— pass in this and improve in the next two attempts—' Did that mean that the final result was an aggregate of the three attempts like he suspected? That didn't bode well for Takuma. After all, he hadn't done decently in his paper; neither could he pull off all academy three.
Takuma pursed his lips and shook his head.
"You—" Kibe sighed and shook his head to himself. "Alright... Just remember to be polite and follow whatever they say to the word." He opened the door and ushered Takuma in.
The auditorium hall had wooden flooring with a raised stage on one end that had large velvety-blue curtains framing it.
The hall had been cleared out for the purpose of today. The floor had seemingly been divided into regions with shinobi in the standard Leaf shinobi gear of green flak jacket over blue interacting with Takuma's classmates. All the shinobi had a clipboard in their hand, making them invigilators. Looking up, there was a corridor with railings that crossed three sides of the hall sans the wall above the stage. The corridor had similarly dressed shinobi looking down at the testing process. These shinobi didn't have clipboards in their hands.
Were they looking out for attempts at cheating? Takuma thought for a moment before walking to the shinobi waving a hand in his direction.
"Are you Takuma?" asked the invigilator. He had buzz-cut hair and a large beard that looked like it had been groomed to give it the proper shape and texture.
The man then asked for id when Takuma nodded. Takuma presented his academy id-card which the man studied along with Takuma for half a minute before returning it.
"Alright, now that's out of the way, I'll be testing your bukijutsu. What all weapons can you use?"
"... Kunai, shuriken, and senbon," said Takuma, feeling something was off about the framing of the question.
"Anything else?"
Takum was taken aback. Was he expected to learn how to wield more weapons? Did that carry some importance? "No," he said. Thinking about that was useless when he didn't have enough mastery of the basic three.
"You see the targets there," the invigilator pointed at the circular bullseye around them. Some were bound to the walls, others sat on the stands, "Hit them with kunai and shuriken. As for senbon... throw them at me."
Takuma curled his brow, but the invigilator didn't seem to be jesting. Kibe's reminder of the invigilators being chunin flashed through Takuma's mind, making him return a nod. He wasn't going to hurt a chunin with his skill.
The invigilator pointed to a nearby table populated with weapons and told him to use those. Takuma counted the number of targets and picked the same number of kunai and shuriken along with four senbon. The table also had swords, daggers, nunchucks, chained weapons, knuckle-based arms, bo-staffs, and various other choices. The variety of weapons present told him the answer to his previous question.
"Hmm?" Takuma observed the weapons in his hands. The weight on them was off; they were either too light or heavy from the standard issue synonymous with every weaponsmith in the Leaf village. A couple kunai that weighed correctly had an off-balance. He glanced at the invigilator and found the man observing him.
Takuma put the weapons into his pouches. Switching them wasn't an option as the kunai had a special wrapping on the handle, the shurikens were engraved, and the senbon had a bronze sheen on them.
"Start," said the invigilator.
Thwip! A kunai struck the farthest target on the wall, missing the red center by a couple centimeters.
Takuma didn't need to cheat by switching.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! One-by-one, all targets had kunai and shuriken sticking out of them.
Faulty weapons weren't a problem to him. All of his personal cache of weapons were bought from scrap boxes full of defective and damaged pieces. Broken tips, chipped edges, bent blades. He had practiced hours upon hours using weapons that had problems. A perfectly weighted and balanced shuriken was predictable; it allowed the user to know exactly how it would react when thrown; faulty weapons would deviate based on their defect. He had simply learned to detect the defect, predict the deviation, and adjust his form.
The result was every throw of his hitting the target. Yes, he missed the bullseyes on most of his throws and had thrown every weapon one at a time. But he wasn't going to pull something beyond his skill to impress the invigilator— that was just inviting failure.
The invigilator scribbled down something on his clipboard. "That leaves senbon," he said.
Takuma threw the four faulty senbon towards the invigilator. The bearded man dodged one, caught another, and made the back of his clipboard become the target of the remaining two.
"I will ask again, can you wield another weapon?"
Takuma shook his head.
"Alright, we are done here." The weapons invigilator looked at Takuma and said, "I hope by the next attempt, you will increase your accuracy more. If you're missing the center here, you will miss the target completely in the field where a dozen things are making aiming difficult for you." He plucked a senbon from his clipboard, "With senbons, you need to target vitals that can be damaged by a thin needle, or you need to study my posture and target places that will be difficult for me to evade or block."
Takuma held back a groan. The advice about accuracy was nothing new, but the senbon part made him want to poke his eyes out with them. He had simply thrown them toward his face and chest without thought— it absolutely made sense to target vitals, but he had been practicing on round target boards or painted circles on trees that he had let the importance of anatomy slip his mind.
This was going to affect his grade. But it was too late to change things, thus the mention of the next attempt.
"You can continue to the next part of the test."
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———
Chat with me and the rest of the community on our DISCORD server.
The link is in the synopsis!
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
200+ Classement
Power Stone 
109 Power
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