Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters. All rights belong to Masashi Kishimoto and the respective publishers. This is a work of fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only.

  Chapter 7: First Steps

  The Academy courtyard buzzed with life as families gathered for the entrance ceremony. Children darted between groups of chatting parents, their excitement making the air feel electric. I paused at the gate, taking a moment to steady myself before joining the crowd.

  My chakra sense opened almost instinctively, filtering through layers of information. The Academy grounds felt different from any place I'd visited before. Saturated with years of training and learning. Residual chakra had seeped into the very stones, carrying remnants of determination and struggle.

  I adjusted my bag strap and stepped forward. After years of imagining this moment, the reality felt both significant and oddly ordinary.

  A bell chimed somewhere inside the building, calling everyone to attention. I caught myself absently touching the wristband beneath my sleeve, tracing the nearly invisible stitching with my thumb. The touch was grounding, a reminder of purpose amid all this newness.

  "Mizuhara-kun?" a woman called out. "Over here, please!"

  I turned to see a kunoichi with shoulder-length brown hair holding a clipboard, motioning toward a group of children. Her chakra signature was steady and controlled. Chunin-level, I guessed, with particularly well-developed pathways suggesting she specialized in precise techniques.

  "First-year students gather here," she explained as I approached. "I'm Nakamura Yuki, one of your instructors."

  "Thank you, Nakamura-sensei," I replied with a small bow.

  Her gaze lingered on me a moment longer than necessary before she turned to the next arriving student. The brief assessment in that look wasn't hostile, just... evaluating. I filed that away. Something to think about later.

  Joining the group of first-years, I scanned my future classmates while pretending to simply look around casually. Some were obviously from shinobi families with their clan markings or the composed way they carried themselves. Others were wide-eyed civilians clearly overwhelmed by the whole experience.

  Various clan kids stood out immediately. An Uchiha boy with perfect posture and the distinctive family emblem on his back. An Aburame whose high collar hid half his face, the soft buzzing of his insects just barely audible. A round-cheeked Akimichi who shifted his weight from one foot to another. A Yamanaka with auburn hair whose eyes darted around the courtyard, missing nothing.

  This would be my world for the next six years… or however long it took me to graduate.

  "It's you! Cat-rescue boy!"

  The excited shout came a split second before a whirlwind of energy crashed into my personal space. Suddenly, I was face-to-face with a girl whose copper-brown hair stuck out in all directions, as if it was trying to escape her head. Bright green eyes stared at me with delighted recognition.

  "I knew I'd see you here! Remember me? You helped with Mochi when she got stuck on that roof, and you were all serious about it!" She scrunched her face into an exaggerated frown, mimicking what I assumed was supposed to be my expression during the cat rescue.

  Her chakra hit my senses like fireworks exploding in multiple directions. Vibrant, chaotic, and moving in unpredictable patterns that seemed to match her physical energy. But beneath the surface, I detected something unexpected. A current of nervous tension, a subtle flutter that suggested her overwhelming enthusiasm might partly be a shield for anxiety.

  I did remember her. The girl whose cat I'd helped retrieve a few days ago. I hadn't expected her to remember me, much less seek me out.

  "Yes, I remember," I said, automatically defaulting to politeness. "Good morning, Kanzaki-san."

  "Just Mei is fine!" She waved her hands. "We're classmates now!"

  Before I could respond, Nakamura-sensei clapped for everyone's attention. "Welcome, new students! Please line up by registration group. The entrance ceremony will begin shortly."

  I turned my focus to observing the surroundings instead, noting the older students watching from classroom windows above and the parents gathering behind the designated family area.

  The Third Hokage arrived, his presence immediately drawing respectful silence. Even from this distance, his chakra presence was impressive. Not flaring with power, but settled into a calm depth that spoke of decades of mastery. I subtly adjusted my own chakra, letting it settle into the most natural, undistinguished pattern possible.

  Don't show anything unusual. Just be another new student.

  We were guided to rows of seats facing a small stage where village officials had gathered. The wooden benches were smooth from years of use, worn in places where countless students had sat before. I ran my fingers over a small groove in the wood, wondering how many children had sat here before me, how many had gone on to become shinobi…and how many hadn't.

  The entrance ceremony began with traditional formality. Takeda Hiroshi, a stern-looking instructor with rigidly disciplined chakra, welcomed everyone before introducing the Hokage.

  Sarutobi Hiruzen stepped forward, his aged face carrying both the weariness of his position and the quiet strength that had led him to resume the mantle after the Fourth's death.

  "To our newest Academy students," the Hokage began, his voice carrying easily across the courtyard, "today marks the beginning of a journey that will shape not just your futures, but the future of our village. The path of the shinobi is one of dedication, sacrifice, and honor."

  His chakra warmed subtly as he continued, reflecting the genuine belief behind his words. "In Konoha, we are guided by what we call the Will of Fire. The belief that the village is our family, that each generation protects the next, and that true strength comes from working together toward peace."

  As the Hokage continued his speech, I maintained my attentive posture.

  When attention shifted momentarily to a late-arriving official, I let my eyes close for a moment. They snapped open the instant the crowd's focus returned to the stage.

  I watched the children around me absorb his words with varying degrees of awe and understanding. The speech was masterfully crafted. Planting early seeds of village loyalty in young minds. Its purpose was obvious. To build the foundation for future sacrifice.

  How many times has he given this speech? How many children has he welcomed, knowing some wouldn't survive after graduation?

  "Your instructors will guide you through the skills and knowledge you need," the Hokage continued, "but remember that becoming a true shinobi is about more than techniques. It is about developing the wisdom to know when and how to use your abilities for the good of all."

  As he concluded his speech, I felt a subtle pulse of chakra extend outward from him. So gentle that most wouldn't notice it, but to my enhanced senses, it was unmistakable. A sensing technique, brushing lightly over the gathered students like a farmer's hand checking a new crop.

  I kept my expression neutral while carefully maintaining my chakra pattern in its most unexceptional state. His gaze passed over our group without pausing, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being evaluated.

  Was that routine? Or is he still watching me after all these years?

  I mentally shook myself. Not everything is about you, Ren.

  After the ceremony, we were divided into classes and led to our assigned rooms. I found myself in Class 1-B under Nakamura-sensei's instruction, along with twenty some other students.

  The classroom was disappointingly ordinary. Rows of desks, a chalkboard, and educational posters showing Konoha history and basic math concepts. The smell of chalk dust hung in the air. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, catching dust motes that danced in lazy spirals.

  Nothing about it suggested this was where future wielders of extraordinary power would begin their training.

  "Everyone, find a seat," Nakamura-sensei instructed. "This will be your classroom for morning lessons."

  I felt the smooth wood of the desktop beneath my palms. A scratch near the edge caught my fingertip. Someone's attempt at carving initials, abandoned halfway through.

  I chose a desk in the middle row. Not the front row to avoid seeming overeager, and not the back row to avoid seeming disinterested. The perfect spot for observing without drawing attention.

  At least, that was the plan until Mei immediately claimed the desk beside mine, beaming as if she'd won a prize.

  "This is perfect!" she whispered, the volume of her whisper making it barely a whisper at all. "We can sit together every day!"

  Before I could respond, Nakamura-sensei began distributing textbooks. "These are your primary texts for this term. Konoha History, Basic Mathematics, and Introduction to Shinobi Fundamentals. Please write your names inside the covers."

  I accepted the stack with outward calm, but inside, my heart sank as I flipped through them. The history text covered the basic village founding, up to the Second Shinobi War. The sanitized version, of course. The math book contained concepts I'd mastered years ago. Even the "Shinobi Fundamentals" text focused on theory rather than practice.

  The familiar weight of disappointment settled in my chest. I traced my fingers over the academy seal printed on the textbook cover, reminding myself that every journey has its starting point. Even if this one seemed painfully basic.

  "First," Nakamura-sensei said once we all had our materials, "let's get to know each other. We'll go around the room for introductions. Please tell us your name, something about your family, and why you want to become a shinobi."

  As the introductions began with a nervous boy at the front, I quietly rehearsed what I'd say. When my turn came, I stood, unclenched my jaw, and kept it brief.

  "I'm Mizuhara Ren. My parents own a restaurant in the central district called Mizuhara Shokudō. I want to become a shinobi to protect the village and the people important to me."

  I sat back down, satisfied with the distance I'd kept.

  The introductions continued, revealing the mix of backgrounds I'd expected. Yamanaka Fū spoke with obvious pride about his clan, his chakra tightly controlled in a way that suggested early mental training. The Uchiha, Takeo, was formal and precise, his chakra carrying that distinctive heat-shimmer quality. Like watching the air rise above a hot stone.

  Aburame Shinji said barely ten words total, but his chakra and that of his insects buzzed even as he stood silent. Thousands of quiet conversations flowing beneath the surface. Akimichi Chōsuke mentioned being related to Chōza, which sent a flicker of warmth through me at the thought of my mentor.

  Mei's introduction came bursting with energy, much like herself. She spoke about her parents' fabric shop near the west gate, ending with an enthusiastic declaration about wanting to learn "all the cool ninja stuff." Her hands never stopped moving as she spoke, one moment gesturing widely, the next tugging at her wild hair.

  When everyone had introduced themselves, Nakamura-sensei outlined the curriculum.

  "Your first year focuses primarily on academic subjects, physical conditioning, and basic chakra theory. As you progress through the Academy, you'll gradually incorporate more advanced shinobi arts."

  A wave of disappointment passed through the classroom, visible in slumped shoulders and fading smiles. Several students had clearly expected to start throwing kunai and performing jutsu immediately. I felt that same twinge of frustration. The gap between my years of preparation and this basic starting point created an uncomfortable feeling, like wearing shoes two sizes too small.

  I reminded myself to be patient. This was time I could use to my advantage.

  "Now," Nakamura-sensei continued, "we'll begin with a brief history lesson before moving to a physical assessment this afternoon."

  What followed was exactly what I expected. An introduction to Konoha's founding that emphasized cooperation between clans while conveniently glossing over the messier realities of the village's early days. I listened with half my attention, thumb rubbing small circles against my palm, using the rest to observe my classmates.

  The Yamanaka boy took careful notes with a look of concentration that seemed slightly overdone, his chakra unnaturally still for a child. Likely already practicing the control his clan techniques would require. The Uchiha maintained perfect posture while radiating subtle frustration. A feeling I understood, despite the difference between our mental ages.

  The rest of the clan children had the resigned expressions of kids who'd heard these stories from family members a hundred times already, while the civilian children showed mixtures of fascination and confusion as they encountered information that clan kids took for granted.

  When Nakamura-sensei asked a question about the Second Hokage's contributions, I knew the answer immediately but counted silently to five before raising my hand. My fingers drummed a subtle rhythm against my thigh as I waited.

  When called on,

  "He used Water Release to develop many of Konoha's irrigation systems, and he established the Academy where we're attending now."

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  Nakamura-sensei nodded approvingly. "Very good, Mizuhara-kun."

  The morning continued with similar exercises, each one confirming what I was beginning to realize. I had seriously overestimated what "Academy training" would entail at the beginning.

  In hindsight, of course they wouldn't throw six-year-olds into grueling training right away. It explains the capabilities of the canon characters in my memories by the time they graduated.

  The realization left me feeling deflated after all my preparation.

  I watched the instructors as they moved between students. By lunchtime, I had made a decision. Trying to seem completely average would probably look more suspicious than just being naturally good at things. Better to be the skilled student who gets praise but doesn't raise uncomfortable questions.

  I found a relatively quiet spot in the courtyard, hoping for a moment alone with my thoughts. The stone bench was warm from the midday sun, and I could hear the distant sounds of children playing in another area of the grounds.

  The Academy provided a simple lunch for first-day students, though many had brought food from home.

  Looking at my bento, I noticed my mother had arranged the contents with particular care. Salmon shaped like a spiral, vegetables cut into stars, a small container of pickled daikon that I especially enjoyed. These small details, invisible to anyone else, spoke volumes. She understood the significance of today, even if she couldn't fully grasp what it meant to me.

  I was about to take the first bite, my shoulders finally lowering when—

  "Found you!" Mei announced triumphantly. "Isn't this AMAZING? We're actually at the ACADEMY! The morning was kind of boring with all that history stuff, but the physical stuff later should be super fun, right?"

  Her chakra washed over me in waves, her surface excitement barely containing undercurrents of anxiety. As she settled beside me, I noticed how her energy seemed to steady slightly, as if my presence somehow provided an anchor. When I stretched my senses further, I detected how her chakra reacted whenever other students glanced our way. Ripples of tension followed by a burst of nervous energy, like she was trying to shout over her own uncertainty.

  The realization hit me suddenly. Her attachment wasn't random. She was genuinely nervous about finding her place here, and for whatever reason, she'd fixated on me as a potential safe harbor in this new social ocean.

  I looked at her, weighing my options. My first instinct was to give short answers that might encourage her to find more responsive company. But something about the vulnerability I sensed beneath her chaotic exterior made me reconsider. Maybe having someone to sit with would make me look less like an outsider.

  "The classroom stuff is important," I said, picking up a piece of daikon from my bento. "But yeah, I'm looking forward to the physical assessment too."

  You'd think I'd just offered her a lifetime supply of candy from the way her face lit up. Her chakra flared with genuine happiness, not the exaggerated energy she projected to others, but something simpler and more authentic. Apparently, any response beyond a single word counted as a major victory.

  "I KNEW you weren't really that serious all the time! My parents were worried about the physical stuff because they're just merchants, but I've always been good at climbing things. That's how Mochi got stuck in the first place. She followed me up onto the roof! What about your parents? Do they know any cool ninja moves?"

  "No, they're civilians. Just restaurant owners."

  "That's right! You said that earlier. What kind of restaurant is it? Do you make fancy food? Or is it more like home cooking?" Mei asked.

  "It's traditional home-style with some—" The words tumbled out, warm and sudden. I stopped mid-sentence, swallowed, and continued in a more measured tone. "It's just regular food. Nothing special."

  Mei's expression flickered with disappointment.

  She immediately deflated, and I realized I'd been too abrupt.

  Our conversation was interrupted when several other students approached, drawn by Mei's animated gestures as she recounted what she clearly considered our grand adventure of cat retrieval.

  "Can we sit with you guys?" asked a boy I recognized as Matsuda Ken, the carpenter's son. Without waiting for an answer, he and three others settled around us, expanding our lunch group.

  Their conversation flowed around topics I'd expected. Excitement about finally being at the Academy, speculation about when they'd learn actual jutsu, comparisons of what they already knew or had practiced at home. I listened more than I spoke, offering occasional comments while observing the social dynamics forming.

  It became clear that Mei had inadvertently pulled me into the center of a social group… exactly the opposite of the isolation I'd expected on my first day. The surprising part was that I didn't mind as much as I thought I would.

  After lunch, we gathered on the Academy training grounds for the physical assessment. Suzuki-sensei, a muscular chunin with watchful eyes and chakra pathways that showed extensive combat experience, explained the process.

  "This evaluation helps us understand your starting line. We'll look at basic speed, strength, coordination, and endurance through several exercises. This isn't a competition. We're just establishing baselines for your individual training."

  Despite his words, the competitive energy was instant and obvious. Students glanced at each other, especially the clan kids who were used to measuring themselves against their peers. Yamanaka Fū stood with confident posture, his chakra tightening into disciplined patterns. Uchiha Takeo's chakra flared with that distinctive heat as his expression grew more focused.

  Time to start my performance.

  The assessment began with running exercises. The packed earth of the training grounds kicked up small dust clouds with each footfall as we sprinted across the field. I kept myself firmly in the middle of the clan children. Fast enough to be noticed, but not suspiciously so.

  During the sprint, my body found its rhythm. My stride lengthened naturally, pulling me forward faster than planned. I caught myself halfway through, forcing my pace to slow just enough to finish fourth.

  What interested me more than the running itself was watching how the instructors observed us. Nakamura-sensei's eyes tracked movement rather than just speed, noting which children moved efficiently versus those who wasted energy. Suzuki-sensei seemed particularly interested in recovery time, watching how quickly we regulated our breathing after exertion.

  Through the jumping exercises, climbing assessments, and coordination drills, I maintained a consistent showing. I noticed Takeda-sensei paying particular attention to the Uchiha boy, his chakra focusing whenever the child performed. Clan politics at work, even here.

  Everyone revealed something on the balance beam. The Yamanaka's rigid control made his movements stiff despite his precision. The Akimichi boy, despite his heavier build, showed surprising grace. His clan's training in weight distribution is evident in every careful step. Mei practically danced across, her natural athleticism revealing why she could reach rooftops with ease. Most stumbled and wobbled, their movements a mix of determination and barely controlled panic.

  When my turn came, I moved carefully. My steps even and my posture straight, allowing muscle memory from years of restaurant work to show through. The rough wood pressed against my sandals as I crossed, my arms extended slightly to stay steady. Halfway across, I allowed a small wobble that I didn't actually need, quickly recovering with a slightly overcorrected step.

  I let out a small breath of relief that wasn't entirely faked.

  I caught Nakamura-sensei making a note on her clipboard, her chakra showing interest but not suspicion.

  For the throwing exercise, I carefully studied the clan children first. I modeled my performance after them but with deliberate minor flaws. Hitting targets with good accuracy but missing a few. Showing promise, but not outdoing them.

  There was a tightening behind my eyes. I blinked, but it lingered.

  I watched Suzuki-sensei's interest when Mei threw her practice kunai in an unconventional but effective arc, landing a bulls-eye that surprised even her. Her wild moves somehow worked, earning her some thoughtful looks from the instructors. Being unpredictable might be a lot in conversation, but in a fight, it might actually be useful.

  The final exercise paired us for a modified sparring drill using soft practice kunai, a test of reaction time and instinctive movement. I was matched with Yamanaka Fū, whose smirk suggested he expected an easy win against a civilian kid.

  "Think you can keep up?" he asked, the childish banter almost making me smile.

  I nodded, settling into position.

  His first throw revealed his training. Fast but predictable, his chakra telegraphing the movement before his body completed it. I could read him like an open book, each ripple in his energy betraying his next move before he made it.

  When his fourth throw came with a sudden feint, his chakra showing a split-second hesitation that betrayed his trick, I allowed it to graze my shoulder, acknowledging the hit with a nod.

  When roles reversed, I threw with controlled precision, targeting areas that required increasingly difficult evading but never pushing beyond what would seem natural for a coordinated civilian child. Fū performed well, his clan training evident in his smooth movements.

  "Guess you're better than I thought," he said afterward, his words carrying newfound respect. "You've got good reflexes."

  "Thanks," I replied. "You've obviously had training already."

  Across the training ground, Aburame Shinji had been paired with Uchiha Takeo. Their matchup created a fascinating contrast. Takeo's precise movements against Shinji's economical, insect-guided reflexes. The Aburame barely seemed to move, yet somehow his insects would subtly alter the trajectory of the practice kunai, making them veer away from his body at the last moment. The Uchiha's growing frustration was visible in the increasing flare of heat in his chakra signature.

  Meanwhile, Mei had been paired with a civilian girl whose name I'd forgotten. Her unpredictable energy was proving an effective advantage, her throws coming from unexpected angles while her dodges involved more spinning and ducking than necessary. For a moment, I caught myself genuinely enjoying watching these matchups play out, seeing the different styles collide and hint at what these children might become with proper training.

  As the physical assessment concluded, the instructors gathered to compare notes. I focused my senses on their conversation, catching bits about "promising civilian candidates" and "natural coordination."

  "Mizuhara-kun, a moment." Nakamura-sensei approached as students began dispersing.

  I kept my face neutral. "Yes, Nakamura-sensei?"

  "I noticed your agility during the exercises. Have you had any physical training before?"

  I had an answer ready. "Not formal training, sensei. But I've worked in my parents' restaurant since I was little. My father says carrying trays teaches you to stay steady." The half-truth came out easily.

  She nodded, looking pleased. "It shows. Natural talent with good habits will take you far here."

  "Thank you, sensei." I bowed slightly, massaging a stiff neck as I straightened. I was relieved she hadn't asked anything more.

  I gathered my things, rubbing my temple where that dull tension had grown more noticeable, and headed for the exit. The Academy curriculum would move much more slowly than I'd anticipated, but perhaps that wasn't entirely bad. The gradual progression would give me time to solidify my cover identity while practicing more advanced techniques in private.

  "Ren! Wait up!"

  Mei bounded toward me, her copper hair catching the late afternoon sun. "That was amazing, wasn't it? The physical stuff was way better than the boring morning part!"

  "Mhm," I replied simply.

  "Going home? I'll walk with you!" she offered, her energy bright but not as overwhelming as before. "I'm headed that way anyway."

  I nodded, and we fell into step together. She chatted briefly about the day's highlights, her comments surprisingly perceptive beneath the enthusiastic delivery.

  "...and that Uchiha boy is so serious! Like he's afraid someone will tell his family if he smiles."

  She darted a quick look my way, a flash of humor in her eyes as if suddenly realizing she could be describing me too.

  As we approached the intersection where our paths would diverge, Mei's endless stream of chatter finally paused. She looked at me for a moment, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

  "See you tomorrow, Ren!"

  Then she was off, her wild hair bouncing as she ran toward the west district. I watched her go for a moment, thinking that her boundless energy was both exhausting and oddly refreshing.

  The restaurant was busy when I got home, dinner service in full swing. I weaved through the kitchen, catching my father's eye as he flipped fish with practiced ease.

  "There he is," he said with a smile, never breaking his rhythm. "How'd it go?"

  "Different than I thought it would be," I admitted.

  He gave a knowing nod. "Your mother's been pacing upstairs. Better not keep her waiting."

  I headed to our living quarters and found my mother at the table with account books spread before her. The moment she saw me, her face lit up and she pushed everything aside.

  "Ren-chan!" She stood, pulling me into a quick hug. "I want to hear everything about your first day."

  As I sat across from her, I felt the day's tension begin to melt away. With my parents, I didn't have to calculate every word or expression.

  "It's way more basic than I thought," I sighed, slumping a little in my chair. "First year is just basic stuff - history, math, and running around. We won't even get to more advanced material for ages."

  "After all that practice you've been doing," my mother said, reaching over to brush my hair from my forehead. "That must be frustrating."

  I nodded. "I had to change plans. Being totally average would look weirder than just being good."

  "So you showed off a little?" Her eyes crinkled with amusement.

  "Just enough," I said with a small smile. "Not too much."

  My mother studied my face, her expression warm but concerned. "And the teachers? Did they suspect anything?"

  "I don't think so." I hesitated, then added, "One noticed I was pretty good at the physical stuff, but she believed me when I said it was from restaurant work."

  The worry lines around her eyes softened. "What about friends? Did you meet anyone nice?"

  This question clearly mattered most to her. I thought of Mei and her endless chatter, of the grudging respect in the Yamanaka boy's eyes.

  "A few," I said simply.

  My father joined us for dinner, and between bites, I told them more. About the clan kids and their confidence, about Nakamura-sensei's watchful eyes, about the obstacle course that had been far too easy.

  "So," my father asked as he refilled my water glass, "was it everything you've been hoping for all these years?"

  I chewed my rice thoughtfully. "Not really. There's a big gap between what I've been practicing and where the Academy starts." I poked at a piece of fish, then admitted, "But maybe there's something to be said for reviewing the boring stuff too."

  My father's face softened with a genuine smile. "Every journey starts with a single step," he said, reaching over to ruffle my hair, "even if you've already been walking a while on your own."

  Later, in the privacy of my room, I reflected on the day while preparing for tomorrow. The Academy curriculum would move much more slowly than I'd hoped, requiring me to adjust my timeline for developing the abilities I might need for what lay ahead.

  But there was an unexpected benefit to this slow progression. It would give me time to refine my control, to weave my unique abilities into standard techniques, and to establish myself as talented but not suspiciously exceptional.

  As I packed my supplies for tomorrow, I couldn't ignore how draining the day had been. The constant performance had taken more from me than any physical training.

  I paused, feeling something stir within me. Not just tiredness-something deeper… perhaps connected to the hollow space in my chakra.

  A part of me that resisted constant calculation and careful performance.

  I touched my wristband, feeling the nearly invisible stitching against my fingertip.

  Would he have approached the Academy with such a cautious strategy? Or would he have simply been himself, meeting each challenge with straightforward enthusiasm?

  I had entered the Academy expecting to find myself hiding in the background. Instead, I'd discovered a middle path. But the strain of calculating every word and measuring each movement had left me mentally drained.

  Dropping onto my bed, I let out a long breath and stared at the ceiling. For the first time all day, I allowed my shoulders to truly relax.

  "Be the perfect student, but not too perfect," I muttered to myself, a small laugh escaping. The absurdity of it all suddenly hit me.

  He would have found this whole situation hilarious. Me overthinking every raised hand and carefully placed foot while six-year-olds around me picked their noses and tripped over shoelaces.

  Without really planning to, I found myself smiling. A real smile, not the measured one I'd offered my teachers.

  On impulse, I grabbed the leaves from my desk and flopped back onto the bed. I sent chakra through my palm, and the leaves sprang upward, dancing above me like a small green cyclone.

  I didn't count them or try to maintain perfect rotation.

  I just played, making them spin faster, then slower, watching them twirl and flutter in response to my chakra's natural flow.

  When they scattered across my blanket, I laughed out loud.

  Perhaps I need to rethink my plans. Again.

  I allowed a small smile to grace my lips.

  But tonight, I let myself remember what Chōza had tried to tell me. That there was joy to be found in this path, not just strategy and preparation.

  I gathered the leaves, still smiling to myself. The first step had been taken.

  And maybe the next ones didn't all have to be so carefully placed.

  A/N: Thank you all for your continued interest in Ren's story! With this chapter, he finally steps into the Academy after years of preparation, and immediately hits the divide between his expectations and reality.

  This one wasn't the easiest to write. Getting the tone right for actual children, while still keeping Ren's introspective voice consistent, turned out to be trickier than expected. So if any moments felt awkward or off, that's probably why!

  Originally, I had planned for Ren to keep walking that fine line. Talented but not suspicious, careful but not forgettable. But honestly? I found it exhausting. And then realized… Ren would likely feel the same way, so I leaned into it!

  His journey is just beginning, and the Academy years will shape not just his abilities but his connections to others who will influence his path.

  I'd love to hear what you think of Ren's first day!

  And I really love the comments! I just feel giddy seeing people invested in this story.