[ MONDAY, NINJA ACADEMY ]
[ JINICHI WATARU ]
I leaned my chin on my palm, staring down at the polished wood of the desk from my sanctuary at the very back row of the classroom. The room was chaotic, a buzzing hive of nervous energy as every freshly minted Genin waited for Iruka-Sensei's announcements.
'It had only been two weeks since I woke up in this world, suddenly thrust into the shoes of Jinichi Wataru.
Transmigrating just a fortnight before the official start of the canon timeline was a trip, to say the least.
Melding my mind with the previous owner's memories had given me a serious reality check; I wasn't some overpowered protagonist with cheat codes.'
In fact, looking back through those inherited memories, I knew exactly where I stood in the grand scheme of the academy: three steps away from dead last.
Even my desperate, frantic victory using an unrefined Spinjutsu against Aoi a couple of days ago hadn't magically wiped the slate clean.
The academy used a strict, progression-based cumulative grading system, meaning a single explosive performance at the promotion exam barely allowed me to scrape by. To the faculty, my years of poor grades still completely overshadowed my sudden streak of luck.
My eyes drifted across the rows of desks, scanning the familiar faces of the crowd. Right near the front, Naruto Uzumaki was practically vibrating in his seat, a massive, goofy grin plastered across his face as he practically begged for attention.
Shikamaru Nara strolled past him, stopping short when he noticed the blonde boy sitting proudly among the graduates.
"Hey, Naruto," Shikamaru muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with his usual lazy squint. "What are you doing here? This room is only for people who passed. Did you get lost or something?"
"Heh! Look at this, Shikamaru!" Naruto barked loudly, grabbing the fabric of his blue forehead protector and flexing it right in the Nara's face.
"See this? It's a real regulation protector! As of today, I'm a real-deal ninja! Believe it!" Shikamaru just groaned, muttering something about how troublesome the yelling was before slouching into his own seat.
The sliding door at the front of the room clicked open, and the room went dead silent as Iruka-sensei stepped up to the podium, a thick stack of documents in his hands. He looked tired but proud, his dark eyes sweeping over the room, pausing briefly on Naruto, and then lingering on me for a split second.
"Congratulations again to all of you on passing," Iruka began, clearing his throat to command the room.
"Today, you will be assigned to your three-man Genin teams, each led by a Jonin instructor. These squads were meticulously put together by the administration after analyzing your individual strengths, balancing your tactical capabilities to maximize your survival and growth in the field."
I suppressed a wry smile at the back of the room.
'You might as well just say you grouped the weaker of us with the stronger of us to make distribution fair.'
It was a generic, standard speech meant for the whole class, but I knew the math behind it. For an unbacked civilian orphan who just barely passed by the skin of his teeth, "balancing strengths" usually meant being thrown into a leftover squad to fill a quota.
Iruka began reading off the list, and I watched the iconic Konoha 12 teams form exactly as history dictated. Team 8 was called—Kiba, Shino, and Hinata—prompting Kiba to smirk while Shino remained perfectly stoic.
Then came Team 10, uniting Shikamaru, Choji, and Ino, much to Ino's loud, dramatic complaints about being paired with a slacker and a glutton.
The numbers dwindled, names crossing off the board one by one until Iruka reached the very bottom of his parchment.
"And finally, Team 13," he announced, his voice echoing in the nearly empty roster. "Jinichi Wataru. Kisuke Yoroi. And Aoi Setsuna."
My heart did a sudden, uncomfortable flip in my chest. Team 13. A completely non-canon makeshift squad, thrown together from the remnants of the class. But it wasn't the number that made me sweat; it was the names.
'Shit!'
As if on cue, a heavy, suffocating pressure washed over me from the middle row. I turned my head slightly, only to find Aoi staring absolute daggers directly at me. Her green eyes were narrowed into slits, her jaw clenched tight enough to snap bone, clearly still harbouring a massive amount of resentment from our brutal clash in the clinic training grounds.
An incredibly awkward wave of guilt hit me, and I quickly looked away, clearing my throat. I genuinely didn't know how to handle this. Part of me felt like I should apologize for how badly she got hurt, but the rational, ninja side of my brain reminded me that it was a sparring match. You don't apologize for wining an obviously graded fight. Still, being locked in a team with someone who wanted to flay me alive was going to make missions a living hell.
Trying to escape her lethal gaze, I shifted my focus a few seats upfront to find our third teammate. Kisuke Yoroi was sitting quietly, his posture relaxed, looking entirely out of place amidst the high-strung tension of the classroom.
As if sensing my eyes on him, Kisuke turned his head back. Instead of the hostility I expected from a random assignment, he offered me a remarkably calm, polite smile, accompanied by a small nod of acknowledgement. Well, at least one of my teammates didn't want to murder me in my sleep. That was a start.
I leaned back against the seat, my mind racing as I pondered who our Jonin sensei could possibly be. What kind of instructor gets saddled with the third worst student, an incredibly aggressive kunoichi, and a quiet kid? They had to be someone either incredibly patient or profoundly unbothered.
Before I could analyze it further, the door began opening at regular intervals as the Jonin instructors arrived to claim their squads. Asuma Sarutobi walked in, trailing a faint scent of tobacco, and ushered Team 10 out. Shortly after, Kurenai Yuhi gathered Team 8 with a warm, encouraging smile.
I watched Team 7 sit in agonizing isolation. Naruto was already grumbling, Sakura was trying to slide closer to Sasuke, and Sasuke looked like he wanted to be anywhere else on the planet. I knew they'd be waiting for hours thanks to Kakashi's legendary lack of punctuality, but I didn't think I'd be waiting with them.
Minutes stretched into twenty, then thirty. The classroom grew cold and vastly empty. The only people left were Team 7, whispering bitterly among themselves, and the three of us in Team 13, separated by rows of empty desks and a thick wall of awkward silence.
Click. The sliding door moved again, breaking the monotony. My head snapped up instantly. A man stepped into the threshold, slouching heavily with one hand buried deep in his pocket. He wore the standard Konoha flak jacket over a dark mesh shirt, but it was his spiky, black hair tied back into a high ponytail and his incredibly bored, half-lidded eyes that gave away his heritage instantly. A Nara.
The Jonin pulled a small crumpled piece of paper from his vest, squinting at it as if reading the names took a monumental amount of physical effort. He let out a loud, dramatic sigh that practically screamed how much he wished he was back home taking a nap.
"Team 13," he drawled, his voice a gravelly, lazy rumble.
"Jinichi, Kisuke, Aoi. You're with me. Let's move."
I didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing my gourd, I strap it to my side and also check if my kunai holster is steady , I stood up from the back row and walked down the stairs. Aoi rose at the exact same time, deliberately ignoring my existence as she marched toward the door, while Kisuke smoothly stepped into file right beside me.
As we spilled out into the quiet hallway, following the slow, dragging footsteps of our new leader, the silence between us finally cracked.
"Great," Aoi whispered sharply, her voice dripping with venom as she leaned slightly toward me, though her eyes remained fixed ahead. "I get paired with the third worst student and a sensei who looks like he's going to fall asleep before we reach the village gates."
' You know you're not supposed to gossip about someone when you're talking to them right?'
I just laugh awkwardly at her remark.
"Now, now, Aoi." Kisuke chimed in from my left, his tone perfectly polite but carrying a distinct undercurrent of amusement.
"Let's not judge our commander too harshly. The Nara are well known for their intelligence and their efficient minds." I kept my mouth shut, watching the broad back of the Nara Jonin as we climbed the stairs toward the roof. Something tells me that this is not going to be as easy as I thought.