The past three years hadn't been spent on myself alone.
At first, I'd thought of my time here in the orphanage as a waiting period, years to quietly build up my strength and knowledge until I could make something of myself. But life, as always, had its own plans.
Between training, assisting in the orphanage, and dealing with the lively group of kids I found myself stuck with, these three years had been anything but passive.
Despite my initial inclination toward solitude, I wasn't left alone for long.
My name, Murakami, had become something of a household word among the other orphans.
At first, it was curiosity. I was different. I trained regularly, meditated, read, and even volunteered to help with chores, which was practically unheard of among the kids here.
Hoshino, the caretaker, had taken note of this and quickly roped me into more responsibilities, particularly in the kitchen. It wasn't as though I'd protested, I needed to eat too, after all, but what I hadn't anticipated was just how much of an impact it would have on me.
Assisting in cooking made me more aware of our food situation, the careful rationing, the lack of variety, the struggle to stretch every meal as far as possible. It made me realize that, while we weren't exactly starving, we were far from comfortable. It was this realization that led me to a certain neglected piece of land outside the orphanage.
It had started as an idle thought. One day, while watching the older kids grumble about their meals, I turned to Hoshino and casually asked, "What's with that abandoned patch of land near the east wall?"
She blinked, then frowned. "That land? It's just been like that for years. Too dry, too infertile—nothing grows there."
I nodded, as if accepting her answer, but my mind was already working.
That's not true.
I'd been a science student with a solid understanding of agriculture in my past life. I knew how to revitalize soil, how to make infertile land fertile again. And, this time, I had something even more powerful than modern science at my disposal—Chakra.
More importantly, I had access to free labor in the form of my fellow orphans.
That night, I sat down with Hoshino again, this time with a serious proposal. "What if we turned that land into a farm?"
She gave me a look that clearly said, You're insane. I didn't blame her. The masses always look up to us as different after all.
I pressed on. "Think about it. If we grow our own food, we won't have to rely solely on donations. Even if we only produce a small amount, it'll ease some of the burden."
Hoshino sighed, rubbing her temples. "And who, exactly, is going to tend to this farm?"
I smirked. "We are. We need something to do, right?"
She stared at me, probably debating whether I was a genius or a lunatic. "You're really serious about this?"
"Dead serious."
Eventually, she relented, and with some strings pulled, the land was officially part of the orphanage's property. That was step one. Step two was actually making it usable.
The first time I took a handful of soil and let it fall between my fingers, I could feel how utterly lifeless it was. It lacked moisture, nutrients… everything a plant needed to survive.
Fortunately, I had a plan.
The first was composting. We started by gathering all biodegradable waste from the orphanage ranging from vegetable peels, eggshells, even fallen leaves from nearby trees.
Gathered over time, this turned into rich, organic matter that we could mix into the soil.
The next step was Chakra Infusion. This was my little cheat. By channeling Chakra directly into the ground, I encouraged microbial activity and moisture retention.
You might wonder…How? Right?
Well, when your chakra control is high enough, you can basically have it do anything with the right direction.
It wasn't something I could do endlessly, but with careful use, I managed to accelerate the recovery process.
The third step. Crop Rotation. Instead of planting one thing all at once, I ensured we rotated between different crops to prevent nutrient depletion.
And finally, Mulching. A simple but effective trick that worked by covering the soil with organic material to keep moisture locked in.
Slowly but surely, the once-barren land began to change.
Dividing the labor was both a necessity and a challenge.
Not all the kids were willing workers. Some, like Aiko, outright refused to get their hands dirty unless absolutely necessary. Others, like Kazu, needed a bit of... creative motivation (bribery with extra portions of food usually did the trick).
Ultimately, the responsibilities were split as follows:
Soil Prep & Watering: The younger kids, since it required the least effort.
Planting & Weeding: Older kids who were patient enough for the task.
Harvesting & Storage: A mix of everyone, since it was the most rewarding part.
And as time passed, the farm became more than just a food source. It was an escape, a place where we could work, laugh, and—on occasion—throw dirt at each other when Hoshino wasn't watching.
Fucking kids, I tell ya. You can't just not hate them.
Of course, all of this was in addition to my real focus—my training.
Having been a spiritual person in my past life, I was also gym enthusiast since I believed my body was a beautiful work of art that shouldn't be let to rot without it achieving its true potential.
A bit cheesy but yeah. I believed it to be and so, I knew exactly how to sculpt my body the way I wanted. And since I was still a child, the key wasn't heavy lifting, but rather a mix of:
Bodyweight Exercises which consist of push-ups, pull-ups, dips, and planks to build foundational strength. Endurance Training which includes sprint drills, long-distance running, and controlled breathing exercises.
Then there is Flexibility & Agility Work which consists of Yoga, dynamic stretching, and simple acrobatics to keep my body limber. The girls preferred this while the boys thought it was too girly.
Not that I cared.
There was the Chakra Control Exercises which entailed daily meditation, leaf concentration drills, and later, tree climbing. I try water walking every once in a while but my chakra level isn't enough to handle that level of strain.
I had no intention of being bulky—I wanted a body built for endurance, speed, and efficiency.
With each passing month, I felt my body adapting. My stamina improved, my strikes became sharper, and my control over Chakra grew steadier. It was slow, methodical progress, but progress nonetheless.
Looking back on these three years, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The farm was running smoothly, I was steadily growing stronger, and even the orphanage felt… livelier.
I had come into this world prepared to only look out for myself. And yet, somehow, I'd ended up changing the lives of those around me.
Maybe I wasn't as selfish as I thought.
…
"What is it you wanted to talk about?" Hoshino asked as she wiped her hands on a cloth. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow into the small office she used for handling orphanage affairs.
The room was modest, with stacks of paperwork neatly arranged on the desk, a bookshelf filled with records, and a small potted plant struggling to survive in the corner.
I sat across from her, my hands resting on my lap, fingers lightly tapping against my knee as I considered my words. "I want to enroll in the Shinobi Academy."
Hoshino's expression didn't change immediately, but I noticed the slight pause in her movements, the brief moment where she simply studied me. Then, with a sigh, she leaned back in her chair.
"I was wondering when you'd say that," she admitted.
I blinked. "You knew?"
She smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You've been training like a madman for years. The only question was when you'd finally come to me about it."
I nodded. It was true. This had been my goal for a while now, but I had taken my time preparing.
Three years of conditioning my body, learning all I could from books, experimenting with chakra control, and even finding ways to strengthen the orphanage had led to this moment.
Still, knowing she had expected this didn't mean she would agree.
"I know you're strong, Murakami," she continued, folding her arms. "But the Academy isn't just about training. It's about commitment. Once you take this path, there's no going back. Are you sure this is what you want?"
I met her gaze without hesitation. "Yes."
She studied me for a long moment before letting out another sigh, softer this time. "Then I'll handle the paperwork."
I exhaled, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. "Thank you."
Hoshino chuckled. "Don't thank me yet. You'll be dealing with actual shinobi instructors now. No more self-paced training. No more doing things on your terms."
I smirked. "I think I'll manage."
She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "You better. The entrance ceremony is in a week. Make sure you're ready."
As I left the office, a sense of anticipation settled over me. I had spent three years laying the groundwork. Now, it was time to step onto the real battlefield.