Eight Months After Rebirth-

  It's bee months since I came to this world.

  Yesterday was my birthday. Another year older, but it didn't feel like much of a celebration.

  But it was a remihat time was slipping away.

  A small pte sat in front of me, a single pieochi with a tiny dle awkwardly stu top. No cake, no fancy gifts. Just this. But the kids in the orphanage didn't seem to mind. Their faces were bright with excitement, their voices rising in a cheerful, off-key chorus.

  "Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday to you~"

  I smiled, or at least, I tried to. I blew out the dle when they finished, letting them cheer like it actually meant something.

  "Kazeo, make a wish!" Emiko, the you, tugged at my sleeve, her wide brown eyes shining with excitement.

  A wish?

  I looked around. The faded banners from past celebrations still g to the walls, their edges curling with age. The wooden floors creaked beh our bare feet, and the st of miso soup from diill lingered in the air. The others—some younger, some older—were grinning, eyes alight with joy, like my birthday was something special.

  I pyed along, because that's what they wanted.

  "I already did," I told Emiko, ruffling her hair. "Let's see if it es true."

  She giggled and stole a piey mochi. The other kids swarmed in, snatg bites, ughing, pying. The room filled with warmth, but I felt none of it.

  I ughed with them anyway. Because that's what I was supposed to do.

  But deep inside, I khe truth.

  The warmth didn't reach me.

  It wasn't their fault. It was mine.

  I was still an outsider in this world.

  ////////

  The orphanage is rge, but it's not rich.

  It only had limited funding, barely enough to provide for all of us.

  Konoha had its priorities—funding the shinobi corps, the police force,other orphanages.

  We were just another expense on a long list..

  Occasionally, couples would visit, looking for a child to adopt. A few days ago, one such couple set their sights ohey had heard I was diligent, that I trained daily with the dream of being a shinobi.

  That I was well-mannered and reserved.

  They thought I would be a good son.

  My answer , I refused.

  How could I accept them as my parents? How could I call them 'mother' and 'father' when my real parents still lived oched into the depths of my memory?

  I still remember my mother's voice, soft and full of warmth, calling me for dinner. I almost hear it if I y eyes long enough. I still feel the firm, reassuring pat on my back from my father, the unspoken pride in his rough hands after a long day.

  The warmth of home. The feeling of safety.

  All gone.

  I don't want tet them.

  I 't fet them.

  I don't uand honists in novels do it—how they move on like their past means nothing. Like the people who loved them were just stepping stones in their story.

  I try. God, I try.

  But when the world quiets down, when training is done, when exhaustion grips me and I have no distras left—those memories return. They creep in, soft aless, like a lulby I wish I could escape from. The ughter, the mutle moments, the life that was stolen from me.

  And I cry.

  I still cry. Even now.

  I ch my fists, nails digging into my palms. The sting grounds me, but it doesn't stop the trembling. No matter how many times I tell myself I o be strong, no matter how much I swallow it down, the tears e.

  I'm not like them.

  I 't just let go.

  So I wipe my tears away before aices. Before anyohe cracks in the mask I've carefully built.

  Attats are a weakness in this world. I 't afford them. Not yet.

  Not until I bee strong enough to stand on my own.

  But I keep moving. Because what other choice do I have?

  ---

  Kaori—one of the caretakers—has grown more attached to me over these months. She even asked me to call her Grandma.

  And at first, I didn't know how to react. I didn't have a grandmother in my previous life, so it was a new experienbsp;

  Her kindness, her gentle prese felt fn, but f.

  Still, I didn't let myself get too attached. It's too dangerous. Once I ehe Academy, I won't have much time to visit her anyway. Because in this world , Attats mean vulnerability.

  Still, I pyed along.

  Getting closer to her had practical bes. It made asking for things easier.

  Like my birthday gift.

  I didn't want much, just twenty balloons and ten rubber balls. She was fused, but she agreed. She said she'd get them for me tomorrow.

  With that, I could finally start Rasengan training.

  ------

  But there roblem. A serious one.

  My chakra trol was horrible.

  Really really horrible.

  Two months of leaf-cutting training, and I had barely made any progress.

  My chakra output was too erratic—I released far more than necessary, which made precise elemental manipution nearly impossible. It reminded me of Naruto's early struggles.

  I o fix this.

  So, from today, I'll add Tree Walking to my training routine. If I master it, my chakra trol should improve drastically.

  But given my current chakra level, it'll take at least four months. Unlike Naruto, I don't have an enormous chakra reserve messing up my trol, but I do have an underlying instability that o be corrected..

  But I won't give up. I'll keep pushing.

  So I've added tree walking to my training. If I learn to trol my chakra for something as simple as walking on a tree, I'll be able to improve my overall trol. At my current level, it'll probably take four months.

  Still, it's better than nothing. I'll get there.

  That day, the ninjas hired by the Root came by again. I took the opportunity to pester them fift. A simple request, but it felt good to get something out of them. I asked for 10 wooden shuriken, using the Academy as an excuse. Grandma also helped me vihem.

  It wasn't much, but it was something. A small victory in this strange, new life.

  ---

  Five months ter -

  Today it has been 1 year and one month since I started training .

  My body had adapted.

  After stretg my body for half an hour so my body won't have any internal injuries formed or muscles will bee inflexible .

  I could now ruhree kilometers without stopping. My push-ups had increased to three sets of fifteen reps, my core had strengtheo the point where I could hold pnk for twenty minutes, and I could plete fifty sit-ups without struggle.

  And I still have energy to spare.

  The improvements were tangible.

  Yet, my real focus wasn't on raw strength anymore.

  My Rasengan training is progressing too. I've been using water balloons to practice the first step,

  and I'm able to keep the leaf on my forehead for thirty five minutes now.

  As for my wind chakra training, only a quarter of the leaf remained before it fully split in twress was slow but steady.

  Tree walking was goioo. I could now stand on a tree trunk using only my feet without slipping. I only practiced at 4 a.m., when no one could see me. The orphanage's small garden became my training ground.

  Every m, after tree walking, I meditate to refine my chakra. To expand it.

  My chakra reserves had grown signifitly. Now, they were roughly little more than half of what that Root Genin had when he was watg me.

  But It wasn't enough.

  Shuriken throwing practice was still a work in progress. All my throws now nded on the board, but only a few were he ter—most were scattered towards the edges. The board itself was 27 cm by 28 cm, so hitting it sistently was an improvement in itself.

  One day a week, I allowed myself to rest pletely. A chill day, as I called it.

  My exhaustion levels had decreased as my body strengthened, but I still needed a full twelve hours of sleep to recover.

  ----

  From now on, my physical training would shift focus.

  Instead of traditional exercises, I would prioritize running and pnking, dropping everything else. The reason?

  Pink Muscles.

  In my past life, I learned about them through 'Demon Syer's Love Hashira'. She had a special muscle positiohat allowed both explosive power and near-endless endurance.

  I had been fasated ever since.

  Pink muscles were a rare hybrid, a mix of fast-twitch (white) fibers and slow-twitch (red) fibers. In theory, training them would create the perfect warrior—one who could move with blinding speed but fight for hours without tiring.

  The bes were too great to ignore:

  'Unmatched stamina, yet no sacrifi power.

  The ability to sprint like a cheetah, but still endure like a marathon runner.

  A batant who could outcss both sprinters and endurance fighters.'

  I estimated it would take two years to fully develop pink muscles. That meant by the end of my first year at the Academy, my entire body would be restructured.

  A gamble.

  But if it worked, I would walk into the Academy leagues way ahead of my peers.

  A warrior with no weaknesses in muscles category.

  Once I have them, I'll be unstoppable. Stronger, faster, and more enduring than anyone else. I'll be the kind of fighter who outcsses both sprinters and endurance warriors.

  This body has potential. It just o be molded. And I will mold it, no matter what it takes.

  [ Author here !

  Do you like this type of training and time skip or I should just write 2 years ter and give you full progress.

  Do let me know.

  chapter will be for training end and academy entrance.

  'Guys , I will appreciate it if you ent . It helps me during my writing as motivation and ideas si's my first time writing.'

  ' I hope you will participate and ent more from this chapter. '

  Have a good day.

  ]