After a good rest, Uchiha Tatsumi picked up his shuriken again.
Shurikenjutsu was easy to grasp in theory—but true accuracy? That required endless practice. In the ninja world, even a half-second delay or an inch off-target could mean death. Only through repetition could one reach the precision of a real shinobi.
Fortunately, Tatsumi had already reached a decent level of skill. He could land multiple hits with solid consistency.
Gripping ten shuriken—five in each hand—he narrowed his eyes at the target set 50 meters away.
Without a word, he threw.
Thwip-thwip-thwip!
In the blink of an eye, five shuriken shot from his left hand. As they spun through the air, Tatsumi raised his right.
A second volley launched. This time, faster and heavier—the second wave overtook the first. The ten projectiles clashed mid-air, creating a burst of sparks as they ricocheted off each other, then struck the target almost simultaneously.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A near-perfect hit pattern.
"Hah…" Tatsumi exhaled, brushing the sweat from his brow. "That looked sick."
He allowed himself a moment of pride.
The pose. The form. The clean follow-through.
Yes… a true Uchiha genius.
Of course, two of the shuriken missed the mark entirely—but those were minor details best ignored.
Still, the Level 3 Shurikenjutsu granted by the system allowed him to analyze the error immediately.
"The right-hand grip was off. Too much force on the release," he muttered.
"Perhaps your right hand is tired from certain... extracurricular activities," the system suggested.
"I'm five. FIVE! Don't make it weird!" Tatsumi snapped, face reddening.
"…."
Ignoring the system's silence, he resumed his practice. At Level 3, his throwing precision and timing had reached an advanced standard. He could easily control angles, speed, and trajectory.
Now, it was time for the next challenge.
He took out a few kunai.
He recalled the scrolls left behind by Uchiha Kagami—his father, and one of the few Uchiha to serve directly under the Second Hokage. Among the scrolls were techniques rarely seen outside the clan.
In the shinobi world, kunai were primarily melee weapons. As throwing tools, they were less common than senbon or shuriken due to their weight and lack of aerodynamic stability.
However, the Uchiha Clan had developed a unique kunai throwing technique—one where kunai collided mid-air and altered trajectory. The technique allowed surprise angle shifts mid-flight, tricking even experienced shinobi who believed kunai couldn't turn once thrown.
"It's a pure Uchiha-style misdirection tactic," Tatsumi thought excitedly.
He fantasized about combining this throwing method with the Flying Thunder God Technique. That was Minato's specialty in the future, but nothing said Tatsumi couldn't make it work too.
Fueled by that ambition, he trained until the sun began to set, gaining 30 Ninja Points in the process.
[System Update]
Ninja Points: 1,240
Content, he slung his weapon pouch over his shoulder and started walking home.
Along the way, he noticed the three kids he'd beaten earlier were nowhere to be found. Probably gone home to recover from their bruised egos.
"Shame. I wanted to test my kunai throw on someone," he muttered, disappointed.
Still, tomorrow marked the official start of the Ninja Academy. And for Tatsumi, that was step one on the long path to becoming a legend.
The air was cool, and the moonlight hazy as he walked through the village. Many villagers strolled about, enjoying the peaceful night.
Even though he'd only transmigrated into this world five years ago, that peace made him strangely uneasy. Somewhere deep down, he sensed a storm was coming.
As he passed through Konoha's commercial district, he saw a long line outside a cozy little shop.
It was the famous… ahem… Ichiraku Ramen, with its signature red paper lanterns.
Tatsumi took a deep breath—the aroma of broth, garlic, and soy sauce hit him like a genjutsu. His stomach growled.
"For once, I'm eating something real," he declared with conviction. "No more watery rice and pickled salt cubes tonight."
He touched the meal voucher in his pocket and slipped into the line.
The place was buzzing—ninja, civilians, and even some foreign traders all lined up.
By the time it was his turn, Tatsumi was fighting to stay awake.
"Uncle! Two bowls of pork bone ramen!" he shouted as he sat down.
"Coming right up!" the owner called from the kitchen.
But it wasn't the legendary Teuchi behind the counter yet. Instead, a ten-year-old boy emerged—Shouda, Teuchi's son and future ramen master.
"Shouda! Two bowls, now!" Teuchi shouted from the back.
"Got it, Dad!" Shouda replied, dashing to prepare the order.
Tatsumi stared. That yell… Was that the Lion's Roar Jutsu?
Shouda glanced at Tatsumi and blinked. "Oh hey! It's you again, little bro."
"Do you eat this much by yourself?"
Tatsumi winced. Why the 'little' part?
Sure, Shouda was older and taller, but come on—was the verbal jab necessary?
"I can finish it," Tatsumi replied flatly.
"I'll be watching," Shouda said, eyes squinting in mock seriousness.
"…"
But the ramen—wow. Tatsumi nearly wept at the first bite. The broth was rich and thick, the noodles chewy and springy. It was on a whole different level from his sad, salt-flavored survival meals.
"Shouda, did you make this yourself?"
"Yeah, but it's not as good as my dad's," the boy replied, rubbing the back of his head.
"You've got talent. This is amazing," Tatsumi praised honestly.
Shouda blushed, clearly flattered. "N-not really…"
But Tatsumi had a suspicious look. He'd felt something weird after finishing his first bowl… like his chakra had spiked a little.
"There's chakra in this ramen, isn't there?"
"N-no! Of course not!" Shouda stammered, face flushing.
"I knew it!" Tatsumi leaned in dramatically. "This is chakra-infused ramen!"
"It's not! It's just pork bone and soy!" Shouda shook his head rapidly, hands waving in panic.
"Then why do I feel bloated after every meal?"
"Because you eat two bowls in one sitting!"
"…Touché."
Tatsumi narrowed his eyes. "You're not just any ordinary ramen chef, are you?"
Shouda glanced back at his dad, then leaned in close. "Dad… I think that weird kid figured out our secret recipe."