A total of three months had passed since Kazeo started learning Earth jutsus. The E-rank jutsus were easy enough, he could learn them in a single day. The D-rank ones, though were trickier, taking around three days each. But then there were the stubborn jutsus, the ones that refused to be mastered overnight.
Take Mud Shot, for example. At first glance, it seemed identical to Mud Spit—just another variation of spitting mud. Easy, right? Wrong. Unlike Mud Spit, which was more like hurling a glob of wet earth, Mud Shot was about precision. It was like firing a bullet, and that meant adjusting speed, angle, and impact. It took him five whole days to get it right, and even then, he knew it wasn't perfect. "I'll leave the fine-tuning to my future self," he decided with a shrug.
Then came Swamp Grip, which took ten frustrating days. It was just an advanced version of Soft Ground, but making the earth sink into a swamp-like consistency required constant chakra control. "Why does this feel more like cooking than ninjutsu?" he had grumbled on the fifth day, as his "swamp" turned into something closer to quicksand.
Subterranean Travel was even worse. The first time he tried it, he got stuck underground and had to claw his way back up. It took him eight days just to perform it successfully, and another seven to reach some level of proficiency. The worst part? Breathing. According to the scroll, he could only hold his breath underground for five to eight seconds. "That's barely enough to hide, let alone fight," he mused. By the time he could sustain it for at least six seconds, he decided that was enough—for now.
Meanwhile, Pitfall Collapse and Moving Earth Wave took a combined nine days to master, while the rest of the jutsus fell within the expected timeframe.
During this period, mid-term exams also happened. The tests focused mostly on theory—stuff like history, chakra theory, and calligraphy. Kazeo ranked first overall, his dedication to the Leaf Concentration training paying off. But calligraphy? That was a different story. Even though his clones practiced for hours every day, he only placed third. Some of the clan kids and rich civilians had been practicing since they were four, making their brushstrokes near perfect. "Maybe I should've been born into a noble clan," he joked to himself.
After the midterms, just as Kazeo thought things would settle, a new subject was introduced some weeks later, one that was far from ordinary.
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One month earlier-
The academy classroom smelled different today. Usually, the air carried the faint scent of ink, wood, and sweat, but now a sharp metallic tang lingered.
At the front of the class, a long table was set up with several large, skinned animal carcasses—boars, deer, and some smaller game. Their pale flesh gleamed under the sunlight from classroom's window, their exposed muscle fibers twitching slightly, as if the bodies hadn't yet realized they were dead.
Most of the students murmured in confusion. Some shifted uncomfortably while others, especially those from clan backgrounds—watched with narrowed eyes, already suspecting what was coming.
Their teacher, Instructor Okabe, stepped forward. His usual strict expression was unreadable, but his gaze held a quiet authority.
"Today, we begin an important lesson in survival. As shinobi, you will often find yourselves without food supplies. Hunting and butchering are essential skills."
His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. But Kazeo wasn't fooled after seeing the carcasses.
'This isn't just about survival.'
Okabe gestured toward the carcasses. "Each of you will be assigned an animal. Your task is to separate the meat from the bones efficiently as you have read in theories this year. Tools are on the table. You will work in pairs."
Several students stiffened. Some turned pale. The reality of the lesson was sinking in.
Blood. Flesh. Cutting.
Kazeo scanned his classmates. The civilian-born students looked the most disturbed. A few boys from merchant families had turned green. A girl at the back clutched her stomach, already looking queasy.
But the clan kids? Their expressions were mixed, some indifferent, some mildly disturbed and a few with cold acceptance.
Kazeo understood why. 'They were being prepared for real killing. A ninja couldn't afford hesitation. Couldn't freeze at the sight of blood. Couldn't see a human body as something different from a butchered animal.'
Okabe's eyes landed on Kazeo. "Kazeo with Umino."
Kazeo turned to see his assigned partner, a small nervous-looking boy with shaking hands. A civilian-born kid.
Umino gulped. "D-Do we really have to do this?"
Kazeo didn't answer. He looked at the different sized knives laid out in front of them. The kunai they used in training were nowhere near as sharp as these.
He picked a knife but his fingers felt stiff around the knife.
He stared at the skinned carcass in front of him. It wasn't human, but… the raw flesh, the exposed muscle, the smell of blood, it was unsettling. His stomach twisted. A strange, uncomfortable sensation crawled up his spine.
He had never done anything like this before.
Okabe's voice cut through the murmurs. "If you cannot do this, how do you expect to take a life and survive?"
Silence.
Some students flinched. Umino's hands trembled. Kazeo forced all his thoughts aside and took a deep breath. 'No time to hesitate'.
His first cut was clumsy. The blade didn't glide smoothly, it dragged. The resistance of the flesh was unexpected, tougher than he thought. As he slices through the meat, a disturbing thought crosses his mind.
'Would human flesh feel the same under the knife?'
He flinches and forces the thought away.
Umino made a choked noise and dropped his knife with a clatter. The tension thickened.
Kazeo swallowed down his own discomfort.
'Focus. Ignore the smell. Ignore the texture.'
'A shinobi had to kill. If I hesitate now—what would happen in a real fight?'
He forced himself to keep going. The second cut was slightly better. His hands weren't steady, but he adapted.
By the time the lesson ended, his heartbeat had steadied. But as he washed the blood from his fingers, he realized something—
It hadn't been as hard by the end.
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Present time-
A month had passed since the first lesson. At first, the memory had lingered, resurfacing in idle moments, during meals, in the stillness of night. But time dulled the edge of discomfort. What had once unsettled him became just another experience, filed away with the rest after doing it a day every week. And today, there was no room for distractions.
Because today was important. It was recruitment day—the time when various departments scouted students for specialized training.
After completing his morning training and leaving a shadow clone behind to continue calligraphy, Kazeo made his way to the academy.
The classroom was noisier than usual, with students eagerly discussing their choices. However, the chatter died down when the door opened, and Okabe-sensei entered, carrying a thick stack of papers. Setting them down on his desk, he cleared his throat.
"Good morning, students. As we informed you earlier, today is recruitment day for various departments. I hope you're all prepared. These forms will help you register for the departments you wish to join. Take one for yourself and pass the rest back."
Kazeo, sitting at the last desk in his column, took a form and scanned it. His eyes moved to the top right corner, where he had to fill in details like name, class, year, and roll number. Below that, a neatly printed list of departments awaited, each with a checkbox beside it.
His gaze flickered to the bottom of the list, where Fuinjutsu Department was listed. But then he noticed a restriction in brackets: Only third-year students and above can apply.
"So, they recruit every year… Well, that makes sense. Some students might be late bloomers."
With a small sigh, he checked the box for the Sensory Department as his first priority, leaving the rest blank. In the reasoning section, he wrote:
"I want to sense Konoha's enemies and stop them before they reach the village."
It was a lie, of course. But it had to sound good. 'Took me ten minutes just to come up with that.' he thought, shaking his head.
It had to be something an overly patriotic, brainwashed academy student would say.
He had considered the Medical Department too, but his schedule was already packed. Besides, medical training required a heavy academic workload, and he wasn't ready to commit to that just yet.
"In my previous life, I had friends who went into the medical field… they had to study way too much. No way I'm putting myself through that hell without high number of shadow clones."
Fuinjutsu would've been his real preference, but it wasn't an option right now.
Once everyone filled out their forms, Okabe collected them and left. Moments later, another teacher arrived to continue the lessons.
During lunch, the topic of conversation was obvious—recruitment. From the murmurs and snippets of conversation, Kazeo picked up that most Uchiha students had applied for the Police Force, while only a single Yamanaka, some other clan kids and a handful of civilians had applied for the Sensory Department.
Most of the major clans had already assessed their children's potential. If they had any talent for sensory abilities, they would have been trained at home, not in the academy. That explained why only two or three clan kids had bothered applying.
After classes ended, all Elite Class students were called to the training grounds. The instructors had them stand in neat lines, their expressions serious.
"If there are around 30 students per class, that should mean, about 180 students are here," Kazeo estimated, scanning the crowd.
But a thought lingered in the back of his mind. Wait… the Elite Class is supposed to last six years. But we're already expected to learn the Transformation Jutsu and a E-rank jutsu by the end of this year… So what exactly do they teach in the last year?
Before he could dwell on it, several instructors arrived. One of them, clad in standard shinobi gear, stepped forward and raised his voice:
"All of you have applied to learn new skills or become part of a department. When I call out a department name, step forward and line up in front of the corresponding instructor."
A brief silence fell as the students listened intently.
"Medical Department… Strategy and Tactics Department… Sensory Department… Fuinjutsu Department…"
One by one, students moved forward, forming lines based on their selections. The instructor in charge of each department began calling out names, checking attendance.
Once the groups were sorted, the instructors led their respective students to their designated training areas.
Kazeo's group, consisting of 38 students, walked for nearly five minutes before stopping in front of a large building.
Above the entrance, a bold sign read:
Sensory Department.
His fingers twitched in anticipation. This was it. His first step toward learning sensory abilities.