Celestial Sandstorm

[Crossedge]

This is why Suna only has bums. Third Kazekage got taken out by Sasori (a village genius). Rasa by Orochimaru(his partner for the Konoha Crush plan). Pakura by Mist Shinobi as her own village betrayed her.

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Actually, both the first and second kazekage also got taken down by assassins... lol. That's a fucking trend or as they actually call in Sunagakure, a curse(no seriously, they do).

Also, Sasori was also against Chiyo and was holding back a lot. You might not believe it but Sasori was a Kakashi level prodigy, who graduated at 6 and became chunin at 7 and... killed fucking Kage at 15, by poison and sneak attacks but still. He could also make full fledged puppet prosthetics for people when he was ten or eleven.

He didn't get taken off by Sakura but by the Plot.

The Villages got established because Madara and Hashirama decided to create Konoha. And they were so powerful that the rest of the world had to follow suit.

Click to shrink...

The First Ninja village was actually nit even Konoha but Hoshigakure, formed 200 years before Naruto canon.

Lmao.

Hashirama got ninja'd.

Also, Second Kazekage was actually a pretty good guy who actually promoted puppetry and other ninja arts. Without him, they would be even worse. White the third Kazakage wasn't born with the Iron Sand but recreated it after observing Shukaku. He had normal magnet Style before that.

I had been researching Sunagakure for a potential fic and found some hilarious facts lol.

 

[Dimensionist]

Don't think Hoshigakure is canon, though?

 

[GeomZii]

I find it deeply ironic that when choosing between Air and Earth, in a literal desert (meaning sand everywhere, that even a genius earthbender like Toph had to work hard to control) in the Land of Wind (and a place that has a clear legacy for Futon ninjutsu as seen with Temari), the MC chose Earth.

Click to shrink...

Since all the later kazekage were who can manipulate earth, sand , iron sand, gold sand, although through magnet release and sand manipution. It was also second kazekage who first researched one tails shukaku (presumably for sand release, not canon only a conjecture). Although it was 3rd kazekage who recreated shukaku sand-manipulating powers by combining his own magnetic chakra and iron powder, which produced the Iron Sand technique. Which rasa used in gold sand and in gaara hiden, gaara can also use sparkling metallic sand.
There are other advantages also which Kaito will discover in later years. No spoilers.

 

[GeomZii]

Actually, both the first and second kazekage also got taken down by assassins... lol. That's a fucking trend or as they actually call in Sunagakure, a curse(no seriously, they do).

Also, Sasori was also against Chiyo and was holding back a lot. You might not believe it but Sasori was a Kakashi level prodigy, who graduated at 6 and became chunin at 7 and... killed fucking Kage at 15, by poison and sneak attacks but still. He could also make full fledged puppet prosthetics for people when he was ten or eleven.

He didn't get taken off by Sakura but by the Plot.

The First Ninja village was actually nit even Konoha but Hoshigakure, formed 200 years before Naruto canon.

Lmao.

Hashirama got ninja'd.

Also, Second Kazekage was actually a pretty good guy who actually promoted puppetry and other ninja arts. Without him, they would be even worse. White the third Kazakage wasn't born with the Iron Sand but recreated it after observing Shukaku. He had normal magnet Style before that.

I had been researching Sunagakure for a potential fic and found some hilarious facts lol.

Click to shrink...

Nice to see you comment. Second Kazekage also research shukaku.

 

[Riserflaming]

He didn't get taken off by Sakura but by the Plot.

Click to shrink...

Eh. More like a final chain of family affection he couldn't sever.

But yeah, not saying Sasori wasn't a prodigy but I don't think he makes it into Strong Kage class even if he stopped holding back. Raikage, Bee, Minato, Onoki, Jiraiya, etc would easily beat his ass.

Also, Kakashi is a T1 tier prodigy. He is someone who if he hadn't fallen into a slump would have undoubtedly become a formidable Kage.

Well, he did become pretty powerful during his reign as the Sixth Hokage. So there's that.

I count Minato as a T-0 prodigy. The strongest one could get without relying on bloodlines.

Hashirama got ninja'd.

Click to shrink...

Lol. Didn't know that. I only remember a few filler movies and episodes. Not all of them.

Well then, Hashirama can be called the one who ended the Warring States Era. Sounds better than the first Villager (even though that's false). Kek.

 

[Xcell]

Did you know that it possible for an earthbender to achieve eternal youth and life in the lore of Avatar the last Airbender?

 

[GeomZii]

Eh. More like a final chain of family affection he couldn't sever.

But yeah, not saying Sasori wasn't a prodigy but I don't think he makes it into Strong Kage class even if he stopped holding back. Raikage, Bee, Minato, Onoki, Jiraiya, etc would easily beat his ass.

Also, Kakashi is a T1 tier prodigy. He is someone who if he hadn't fallen into a slump would have undoubtedly become a formidable Kage.

Well, he did become pretty powerful during his reign as the Sixth Hokage. So there's that.

I count Minato as a T-0 prodigy. The strongest one could get without relying on bloodlines.



Lol. Didn't know that. I only remember a few filler movies and episodes. Not all of them.

Well then, Hashirama can be called the one who ended the Warring States Era. Sounds better than the first Villager (even though that's false). Kek.

Click to shrink...

That's the thing with chakra system and ninjas , it's less about power levels and more like rock paper scissors situation. Different shinobi will perform differently when fighting ninjas of same caliber. Every shinobi arsenal set is varied. And information is key factor in ninja fights. Most shinobi underestimate poison user. If you are not medical Prodigy or some medical bloodline or ninja alien, no matter who you are you will die ,IF big IF, you are hit by poison directly or indirectly.

 

[Riserflaming]

That's the thing with chakra system and ninjas , it's less about power levels and more like rock paper scissors situation. Different shinobi will perform differently when fighting ninjas of same caliber. Every shinobi arsenal set is varied. And information is key factor in ninja fights. Most shinobi underestimate poison user. If you are not medical Prodigy or some medical bloodline or ninja alien, no matter who you are you will die ,IF big IF, you are hit by poison directly or indirectly.

Click to shrink...

Fair enough. Hanzo defeated the Sannin with the help of poison so yeah poison works up to Strong Kage Tier.

Ninja battles definitely are an intelligence game until you reach Madara and Hashirama levels of fuckery. The smallest piece of intelligence can change the game.

Even at Hashirama and Madara levels, there are some Jutsu which can fuck shit up. Itachi's Izanami was one such thing.

Bruh. Kabuto was fucked over so badly. He was ragdolling the Uchiha brothers like bitches. I think bro was the strongest civilian ninja ever. And then Itachi hits him with a super speshul clan Jutsu that's almost impossible to break.

 

[NotSkelle]

 

[GeomZii]

Celestial Sandstorm

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 5: The Path Forward

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Kaito POV

Among all the matrons, Aiko was closer to me. Where Matron Yumi was sharp edges and cold observation, Aiko was warmth. She laughed at our antics, sang us songs. Held us when we cried. She was the closest thing to a mother most of us would ever know. But even Aiko had her limits.

"There are too many of you," she told me once, when I asked why she couldn't play with us after lessons. We were sitting in the courtyard, watching the younger children chase each other through the dust.



"I wish I could give each of you everything you need. But I can't." She smiled, but there was sadness in it. A weariness that spoke of years spent stretching herself too thin.



"All I can do is teach you to take care of each other."



I thought about that for a long time. The other children didn't. They competed for Aiko's attention, fighting over her lap, her praise, her gentle hands. They didn't understand that she couldn't be everything to everyone at all times. That the math simply didn't work. But I understood.

I had always understood.



The dull months of orphanage life passed. Days blurred into weeks. Weeks into months. The rhythm was always the same: meals, lessons, play, sleep. The desert wind howled outside. The sun traced its path across the sky. Children laughed and fought and cried.


One day the head matron called me into her office on an evening.



"Sit," she said, gesturing to a cushion. I sat.

The office was small, barely large enough for a desk, two chairs, and a shelf of weathered scrolls. The walls were thick, insulating against the heat. A single window let in a sliver of light. Matron Yumi studied me with the same intensity she'd shown months ago. But there was something different in her gaze now. Calculation, perhaps, or concern.

"You've been watching the shinobi," she said. "The ones who walk near the orphanage."

I said nothing.



"The other children play, argue, and cause trouble. You watch like you are observing every detail."

She leaned forward, her ancient eyes boring into mine. "What are you looking for?"

A way in, a path forward, and a future that doesn't end with me dead in a ditch.

"Nothing," I said instead.

She didn't seem to believe my answer. I could see it in her eyes. But she didn't press. Instead, she said something that surprised me.

"You want to be a shinobi? That's a tough task for civilians, orphans, and the poor." She paused. "At least, it was eight years before."

I waited.

"The Second Kazekage, may the Sands bless him, has created this new... academy, it is called, for becoming shinobi. Anyone, even civilians and orphans who wishes to be a shinobi, can apply. He is also asking the clans to send their children to the academy."

The Academy.

That word hit me like a physical blow.



"It has created quite the controversy that even civilians have heard it. Normally, ninja news does not reach common folks. There have been grumblings about traditions from clans. Queer folks, those people."

"The Academy usually accepts children at six years old," she continued. "That's not a hard rule, from the rumors I've heard. I think you will be eligible." My heart stopped.

"The village needs shinobi," she said. "It always needs shinobi. And you..." She paused, studying me, a flicker of greed coming in her eyes.

"You have the eyes of someone who's already decided."

I hadn't decided.


That was the problem. I was still trapped in the same loop, wanting power, fearing the cost. Wanting to become something more, terrified of what I would have to become in the process. But I couldn't say that.

So I nodded.

"You will be five years old in the coming months," Matron Yumi said.



"I will apply to the Academy for you, and you are among the most mature kids in my orphanage, even among the bigger ones." And she smiled a sad smile that made me feel like I'd been seen in a way I hadn't intended.

I had four months. Four months to decide. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. Four months to figure out how to become a shinobi without losing myself in the process.



But I think I had already decided. Not that I could hide my strangeness from ninjas if I couldn't hide it from my matrons. Academy teachers would find my oddness in the first moment and file it away, or they would try to find the reason. And if I held back and lagged, I would be prodded more and more until I slipped and they found out about my rebirth. They would try to study and research it.



There were many ways Chakra could extend one's life, and Rebirth was one of many. If they found out about my reincarnation or even got the hint, Shinobi greed would put me on the experiment table before I could explain anything. I could not allow that. So my only option was to become strong. And if I were to become something useful, they might overlook my strangeness. A genius, a prodigy. There was precedent for it in the ninja world. And if I was going to be strong, I would be the very best.



Strongest.

After all, the best lies are those that people want to believe themselves. And those are hidden behind truth.


Or so the saying went.

So I started pushing harder. Meditation became a daily ritual. I found a secluded corner of the orphanage courtyard, a spot behind a crumbling wall where the shadows pooled thick, and the matrons never looked. There, I practiced.


Breathe in. Draw the chakra up from my core. Let it flow through my limbs.

Breathe out. Release.

The chakra responded slowly at first, a trickle where I wanted a stream. But each day, the trickle grew. Each day, my control improved. I was still small and weak. Still a child in a world that would devour me if I wasn't careful. But I was learning.

That night, I dreamed of sands. Endless dunes stretching to the horizon. A sky the color of blood. And somewhere in the distance, a figure watching me, eyes like empty sockets, mouth curved into a smile that promised nothing but pain. I woke up gasping. The dream faded, but the feeling remained.


You wanted power, a voice whispered. Now you'll have to earn it.


I woke up and lay in the darkness, listening to the other children breathe. Four more months of peaceful orphanage life that I had somehow gotten used to. It was all I had.




The next day I found Hiro and Mido in the courtyard, playing a game that involved throwing small stones at a target scratched into the sandstone wall. Hiro was losing badly. Mido was winning without appearing to try.

"Heh, you slept early Yesterday?" Hiro asked, not looking up from his throw. The stone bounced off the wall and nearly hit a passing matron. "Oops."

"Let's play " Hiro asked.

When I did not reply, Hiro wanted to ask again, but Mido barged in. "Where were you yesterday evening?"

"Matron Yumi wanted to talk to me."

That got their attention. Hiro turned, eyes wide. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing."

"Then why'd she want to talk to you?"

I hesitated. Hiro was my friend, but he was incapable of keeping a secret for more than an hour.

"She asked me to apply to the academy," I said. "To become a shinobi." Seeing his wide eyes, I continued before he could spread the news to the whole orphanage "Anyone can apply."

Hiro's jaw dropped. "Anyone? Even orphans like me?"

"That's what I meant, even orphans like us."

He was quiet for a moment. Then his face split into a wide grin.

"I'm going to be a shinobi," he announced. "A real one with a headband and everything."

"You have to pass the entrance tests first," Mido said quietly. She'd stopped throwing stones and was watching me with that unreadable expression. "They won't just let anyone in."

"I'll pass. I'll pass everything. I'll be the best student they've ever had." Hiro puffed out his chest. "I'll graduate in a year. Maybe two. Then I'll be a chunin. Then a jonin. Then….."

"Kazekage?" Mido offered.

"Exactly!" Hiro pointed at her like she'd said something brilliant. "I'll be the youngest Kazekage in history. They'll write songs about me."

"They'll write comedies," Mido muttered.

But I saw the way she was looking at me. The question in her eyes.

Are you going?

I nodded, just once.

She nodded back.

Hiro was still talking, oblivious to the silent conversation happening beside him. "We'll all go together! The three of us. We'll be a team. The best team Suna's ever seen. We'll go on missions and fight enemies and"

"Hiro."

"….save princesses and…."

"Hiro."

"….discover lost treasures and…."

"Hiro, you're going to need to learn exercises for hand seals that Matron Aiko teaches us, first."

He stopped and blinked. "Right, the Hand seals exercise." He looked at his hands like they'd betrayed him. "I can do hand seals. I've been practicing."

"You made a dying spider last week."

"That was a secret technique."

Mido and I exchanged a look. For the first time in months, I felt something that might have been hope.

Maybe I wouldn't have to do this alone.

__________________________________________________________________________________________


The Sandstorms increased after the summer season. I called it the after-summer season, as there was no autumn season. Winds increased in speed, and sandstorms became a daily occurrence. Most were low-intensity sandstorms, but every now and then you had a colossal sandstorm covering the whole sky.

Mira found me in the courtyard, sweeping sand from the stone path. A futile task. If only someone took my opinion. The sand always came back. But it gave me something to do with my hands while my mind worked.

"You've been quiet lately," she said, crouching beside me.

"I'm always quiet."

"Quieter than usual." She studied me with those silent eyes. "Yumi told me about the Academy. She said you're going to apply."

"Yes."

Mira was silent for a moment. " You know, she does not want you to apply to the academy," she said quietly.

I looked at her. Really. "Then why?"

She stared into the sky for quite a time.

"Because there is no choice left." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "The supplies have run out," Mira said. "We can't keep feeding the children at the current levels "

"What happened?"

"With no new donations, all the donations from merchants and priests have dried up in the last two years of war." She shrugged. "She even went to the Sand shrines and the wind temples, but they refused to give more money."

I didn't know what to say.

"I'm not telling you this to cheer you up." Her eyes were more focused now, and her hands were twitching as if remembering a bad memory. " Head Matron Yumi even refused to give kids to the recruiters. During the war, they came to take children who were about ten years old, even the young ones. Even the ones who aren't ready." Her voice was shaking. "They pay for recruits, not much, but enough. Enough for food and water. Enough to keep the others alive." She paused.

"Very few recruiters survive; the ones who survive come back different."

"We have even stopped taking new orphans during the war, although few babies were taken in. Thank the Sands that war stopped when it did, or else we all would have starved"

"I know."

"Do you?" She looked at me, and for a moment, I saw fear and hope in her eyes all tangled together.

"Even now the orphanage is not in good condition; the last sandstorm damaged it…" She stopped mid-sentence and breathed a sigh. "Listen, Head Matron is sending kids to the academy, as the academy provides money, food, and water for the students, which will reduce the burden on the orphanage for some time. You do not need to graduate or become a shinobi."



This really is a messed-up world that forces adults to explain their worries to five-year-old kids.



"Promise me something, Kaito." She continued.

"What?"

"Don't lose yourself." She took my hand. "Whatever they teach you, whatever they make you do, don't forget who you are. Don't forget the people who care about you."

I don't even know who I am, I thought. I'm a stranger in a borrowed body, living a life that isn't mine.

But I nodded, "I promise."

Her smile reached her eyes now.

"Good." She stood, brushing sand from her knees. "Now finish your sweeping. Sayuki's making stew tonight, and if you're late, Hiro will eat your share."

She walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Don't lose yourself. What if I've already lost myself? What if the person I was is gone, and all that's left is the mask?

I didn't have an answer.

I kept sweeping.



__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

[rockus4]

Love the story so far. Wonder if any higher ups observed him earth bending,will that become a bloodline he passes on?

 

[Chronodevil]

Thank you for the chapter, now that he has better yang chakra and better yin chakra is he closer to yin-yang release? Or perhaps larger chakra reserves? A higher limit than one may expect from a clanless orphan?

 

[GeomZii]

Celestial Sandstorm

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 6: Forged in Sands

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Kaito POV:

The Academy gates loomed before me like the maw of some great beast.

Two massive doors of reinforced sandstone, banded with iron. They stood open, welcoming us into a courtyard. The walls rose high on either side and were etched with faded murals depicting the founding of Sunagakure, the First Kazekage raising his hands to the sky, the sand rising around him like a living thing, the clans bowing before him in submission.



Propaganda, I thought.



I had expected some kind of entrance test; after all, it was the famous academy of the Naruto world, even if it was of another village and so many years before canon. But when we arrived at the academy, we were called into rooms, where an instructor came and asked whether we could read and write. After that, he only asked the gathered children to fill out their forms. He also observed us for any glaring disability.

I observed that there were no clan kids at the time of filling out the forms.

The Academy had been built for civilians and orphans, children like me, who had no clans, no bloodlines, no ancient techniques passed down through generations. The Kazekage had created it to give us a path to power, to tear down the walls that had kept the clans in control since the village's founding.



And then he had ordered those same clans to send their children into the academy.

The clans were resentful. They saw the Academy as an attempt to dilute their power, to strip them of the privileges they had earned through generations of service. And they were not entirely wrong.

But they were also not entirely right. Sunagakure was the weakest major village; it would always lack manpower. And the Kazekage knows this more than anyone. By training civilian kids, he is attempting to bridge the gap with other villages. By forcing clan kids into the academy, civilian students will gain valuable experience. The civilians will know how to fight someone who is stronger, faster, and better skilled than them. Clan kids, on the other hand, did not know how to fight people who had nothing to lose, how to fight a cornered enemy, and how to never let their guard down even if they were fighting someone weaker.



__________________________________________________________________________________________



Today, Hiro, Mido, and I have gotten news of our selection.

The letter arrived on a sweltering afternoon, two weeks before my fifth birthday.

I was in the courtyard, practicing my chakra control, when Aiko called my name. Her voice was strangely excited and worried in equal measure.

"Kaito! Kaito! Come here!"

I stood, brushing dust from my clothes, and walked to the main building. Aiko was standing by the door, holding a scroll in her hands. It was sealed with a symbol that I had seen at the academy and on academy forms: a stylized sun surrounded by sand.

Hiro and Mido were already standing beside her with scrolls in their hands. Hiro whooped when he read the selection scroll.

"Yes! I got selected."

Mido smiled a wide grin that rarely appeared and looked proud.

"I also got selected," she told us, after controlling her grin.

"This one came for you." Aiko handed me the scroll.

The Scroll paper was expensive; I had only seen it used for official documents of the academy. I broke the seal and unrolled it.



To,

Kaito of the Sunagakure Orphanage 3,

You have been accepted into the Sunagakure Shinobi Academy. Your training will begin on the first day of the coming month. Report to the Academy gates at dawn.

Bring nothing but your determination.

Academy Administration



I stared at the words. They were simple and almost dismissive, but meant everything to me.



I'm in.



Aiko was watching me, her expression unreadable.

"Congratulations," her voice laced with melancholy. "… I think."

I looked up at her. "Thank you."

"You're scared."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Good." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Fear means you understand what you're getting into. Fear will keep you alive. Just be true to yourself. "



A pure mind and an honest heart have nothing to fear. I remembered someone who used to say something similar.



"Come, we should tell the others. This is... this is something to celebrate." Yet I could hear a downcast quiver in her voice.



I followed her inside, the scroll clutched in my hand. The other children gathered around, curious and excited. Even Matron Yumi appeared, leaning on her cane, her ancient eyes studying me.

"So," she said. "You're really doing this."

"Yes."

She nodded slowly. "Then don't die. I've buried enough children."

It was the closest thing to affection I had ever heard from her.

The path forward was no longer a question. And suddenly,



Celestial Grimoire — 800 CP

Bending Arts (500 CP) — Avatar: The Last Airbender

You were born with the ability to manipulate the element of your nation, and have been trained in its use. The Bending Arts differ from element to element, but always involve a combination of physical movements designed to evoke that element, focused with the will of the Bender. Bending an element provides substantial control over it, allowing you to move it, shape it, and direct it, though the exact nature of each depends on the individual element. It should be noted, however, that you cannot actually create an element – though Firebenders can transform their body heat into a raging inferno and Airbenders can make the breath from their lungs into a gale, Waterbenders and Earthbenders must have a source of their element to Bend. You also get all knowledge of the chosen bending art. You are well versed in basic bending, and if mastered, you could develop it to an advanced level.



What should I choose?

I wanted to choose fire bending. After all, it was the coolest and most offensive art. But while I can bend it, there might not be enough fire jutsu in Suna to better use this perk. Waterbending was out due to a similar problem, even though it will help me with the healing perk with its healing arts, bloodbending, and fluidbending.

So Air or Earth. Airbending will give me a flight advantage, although looking at the perk, it will require some form of glider like Aang. It will also lessen the sting of not choosing Golden Eagle animagus. On the other hand, airbending has all the moves of a defensive style, only attacking when absolutely necessary. I may not have the privilege of waiting till the last moment.

Earthbending will give me the ability to manipulate earth and later on sand. The second Kazekage is known for his earth release and sand manipulation. The future Kazekages were famous for sand manipulation in the form of Iron sand, Gold sand, and Chakra-Infused Silica Sand. Choosing earthbending will allow me to gain environmental advantage, at least within the vast desert of the Land of Wind.



What to do? What to do? I am going to regret it no matter what I choose. Aren't I?



Chosen Bending Arts — Earthbending

Accept?

Yes.

Remaining CP — 300



Suddenly, knowledge and power rush into me. My Chakra reserves have also expanded, as Chi enters my body and is translated into physical energy, Yang energy. Unlike the previous perks, this one has given me knowledge of fighting while using earthbending by manipulating Yang chakra.

I could feel the earth beneath me. The stone walls of the dormitory, even the packed sand of the courtyard. It called to me, whispered to me, waited for me to reach out and shape it. However, I could not. Not yet, when I have not been taught anything related to chakra.

I now also have an idea of how Celestial Grimoire works, but only an idea. I get CP by doing achievements instead of daily, like I previously thought; the greater the feat, the greater the CP. The Greater achievements also tend to allow Celestial Grimoire to grant a perk. It is only a conjecture.

The morning sun beat down on the assembled children, baking the courtyard until the air shimmered with heat. The desert wind carried the smell of dust and something else ozone, perhaps, or the faint metallic tang of chakra lingering in the air.

This is it, I thought. No turning back now. My first day of academy.

Aiko came to fetch me as the sun climbed higher. "Kaito! There you are." She stood at the edge of the courtyard, hands on her hips, a fond exasperation in her voice.

"I've been looking everywhere. It's time." I rose, brushing dust from my clothes. The Head Matron Yumi had arranged new-looking second-hand garments for the occasion: simple brown robes, clean and unpatched. She had to cash in some favors.

"I'm ready," I said.

Aiko studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled that warm, tired smile that had become as familiar as the desert sun. "You look ready," she said. "Come on. The others are waiting."

Hiro and Mido stood by the gate, along with three other orphans who had been deemed old enough for the Academy. Hiro bounced on his heels, barely contained excitement radiating from every pore. Mido stood quietly beside him, her dark eyes watchful. The other three a girl named Sana and two brothers whose names I hadn't bothered to learn clustered together, whispering nervously.

"Finally!" Hiro jumped when he saw me. "I thought you'd sleep through it!"

"I was awake before you," I said.

"Liar."

I didn't bother to argue. Hiro would continue to argue, and I preferred silence.

Matron Yumi appeared at the gate, leaning on her cane. She had dressed formally for the occasion, in a dark robe embroidered with subtle patterns that caught the light. Her presence commanded attention from the orphans and other matrons.

"You will represent this orphanage with dignity," she said, her old eyes sweeping over us.

"You will follow your instructors' orders. You will not embarrass me."

"Yes, Matron Yumi," we chorused.

She nodded, satisfied. Then her gaze lingered on me. "And most of all, survive," she added, her stern voice carrying a heavy weight that fueled our resolve.

"The Academy teaches you to kill, lie, and sacrifice everything for the village." Her ancient eyes glittered. "What they don't teach you, can't teach you, is how to survive the battles that come after, when the fighting stops, when the dust settles. Then you're left with nothing but memories and scars." She straightened, tapping her cane against the ground. "Remember that you're human, whatever else you become, whatever powers you gain. Whatever enemies you make, remember that you were once a child in an orphanage, crying for his mother."

She turned and walked away, leaving us standing in the dust.

Was that kindness? Or pragmatism? Or greed? Or a mixture of all.



__________________________________________________________________________________________



When we arrived near the academy, we stood in silence, watching the other children. Some were crying, clutching at their parents' robes. Others stood with arms crossed, trying to look confident. A few, the ones from shinobi clans, judging by their clothes, stood apart, observing the crowd with cold calculation.



Those are the dangerous ones, I realized. They've been training since they could walk. They know what's coming.



I studied them carefully, cataloging faces and postures. A boy with yellow eyes and blue hair. A pink-haired boy with the fairest skin I had observed in Suna. Kids who stood back-to-back, scanning the crowd like they expected an attack.



These will be my competition. My allies. My enemies. I didn't know which yet.



A gong sounded. The noise cut through the murmuring crowd like a blade, silencing every voice. Children straightened, and the parents stepped back. There was so much silence that it seemed the wind paused.

A man stepped onto the platform at the far end of the courtyard.

He was old, ancient by shinobi standards, with a weathered face and eyes that had seen too much. His robes were simple but well-made, the fabric dark against his sun-darkened skin. A headband adorned his forehead, bearing the symbol of Sunagakure. But there was something else etched beneath it. A scar that was old and faded.

"I am Chunin Hara; you will call me Hara-sensei," he said. His voice carried without effort, cutting through the heat and dust like a blade through silk. "For the next six years, I will be responsible for turning you into shinobi."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Some of you will not survive. Some of you will break, and others will wash out and return to whatever lives you came from." His gaze swept across the assembled children. "But those who remain, those who endure, will become the finest weapons this village has ever produced."

Weapons.

That was what we were to him. Neither children nor students, but weapons.

"Since we are on the ground, we begin immediately," Hara sensei continued. "There will be no orientation. No grace period. You will be tested today, and every day, until you either graduate or fail."

He smiled.

It wasn't a kind smile.

"Welcome to the Academy." The first test was simple. We were divided into groups of ten and told to run. No instructions or destination. Just run. The other children took off immediately, sprinting across the courtyard, competing to be first, to be fastest, to prove themselves. I watched them go.

Then I started running. A steady pace, chakra pulsing through my legs, my breathing controlled. Hiro and Mido matched my rhythm, their footsteps falling in sync with mine. Hiro wanted to run ahead, but Mido pinched him, and he got her meaning. We ran until children started dropping. First, the ones who had sprinted too hard. Then the ones who had no stamina. Then the ones who simply gave up. We ran until the sun reached its zenith. We ran until our lungs burned and our legs screamed and our vision blurred at the edges. We ran until Hara sensei called us back. Of the hundred children who started, thirty finished. I was one of them. Hiro and Mido had lagged but finished among the last.



Hara sensei looked at us. "Better than expected." He said, and the survivors nodded. Then he looked back at me, his gaze lingering for some time before turning to the scroll in his hand.



Huh, What was that all about?



"You will be assigned to the following classrooms". He assigned us to different sections of the first-year class based on our performance. "Now go get your scrolls of first year from the scroll counter and arrive at class tomorrow morning."



We went to the scroll counter and were swiftly given some scrolls, a set of quills, and an ink box.



"I can't wait for tomorrow," Hiro said while returning to the orphanage. There was even a smile on Mido's face.

I am in now.



__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

[search]

It's pretty good that he got a training, intelligence and memory booster so early. And so cheaply. I'm looking forward to him becoming a healer and getting involved with more people.

 

[GeomZii]

Celestial Sandstorm

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 7: Foundations ___________________________________________________________________________________________

Kaito POV:



The next morning, we all arrived in our classroom and took our places. The classroom was smaller than I expected. Sandstone walls, no windows, rows of low desks worn smooth by generations of students. The air smelled of chalk dust and old paper, with an undertone of sweat that never quite faded no matter how many times the windows were opened. I found a seat near the middle, not the front, where the eager ones clustered, and not the back, where the troublemakers lurked. Hiro dropped into the desk beside me, still breathing hard from the run. Mido took the seat behind us, silent as always. Around us, the other survivors of Hara-sensei's first test filed in our class. Thirty children out of a hundred. The clan kids sat together near the windows, their fine clothes marking them as different. The orphans and civilians scattered throughout the room, eyeing each other with wary suspicion.

Hara-sensei entered last, moving with the quiet precision of a predator. He stood at the front of the room, his weathered face unreadable, and waited for silence.

"You will notice the syllabus on your table. It is your curriculum for 6 years in the academy." Hara sensei said. I observed the syllabus. "You have all received your syllabus," he said, tapping the scroll on his desk. "You will familiarize yourselves with it. You will follow it. You will not question it."

_________________________________________________________________________________

​

Academy curriculum

First year:

Reading, Writing and Calligraphy, Mathematics, Geography, History 101, Ideology of Sand 101, Taijutsu 101, and Chakra 101.



Second year:

Rules of the Shinobi, Tactics and Strategies, Basic Exercises, Taijutsu 102, Chakra 102, Bukijutsu 101, Survival 101, and Ideology of Sand 102.

Third year:

Chakra 103, Infiltration and mannerisms, History 102, Basic finance, Report writing, Taijutsu 103, Bukijutsu 102, and Survival 102.



Fourth year:

Chakra 104, Taijutsu 104, Bukijutsu 103, Ninjutsu 101, Arts of Illusions, Intelligence Gathering, Trapping, and Survival 103.



Fifth year:

Chakra 105, Taijutsu 105, Bukijutsu 104, Ninjutsu 102, Recon and Tracking 101, Genjutsu, Poisons, and Survival 104.



Sixth year:

Chakra 106, Taijutsu 106, Bukijutsu 105, Ninjutsu 103, Recon and Tracking 102, Fuinjutsu 101, Poisons, and Survival 105.



Two Electives to be chosen at the start of the Fifth Year:

Taijutsu 110, Ninjutsu 110, Fuinjutsu 110, Bukijutsu 110, Poisons and Antidotes 110, Recon and Tracking 110, Intelligence Gathering 110, Puppetery 110, Trapping 110, Mannerisms 110, Politics 110 and Business 110.

_________________________________________________________________________________

​

The Academy's syllabus was well-rounded. I studied it carefully, noting the subjects and their implications. The curriculum was designed to produce well-rounded shinobi, operatives capable of serving the village in a variety of roles, like shinobi who could function in the courts of daimyos, markets of distant villages, and in the administration.

Mostly, the academy focuses on physical conditioning and standard fighting styles with weapons, poison, and survival throughout its course.

"It is given to you, as some of you already know some subjects." Hara sensei looked towards the clan kids. "If you perform well, you may be allowed to skip class. The syllabus may also change according to time and need." Hara sensei warned.



I guess they have not standardized the syllabus, as only 8 years have passed since the creation of the academy.



His gaze swept the room, lingering on the clan children. "Some of you believe you already know what it means to be shinobi. You have been trained by your families. You have learned techniques and forms that other children have not." He paused. "You are wrong. Whatever you think you know, you know nothing. The Academy will teach you the truth."The clan children stiffened. A few looked angry. None spoke. Smart, I thought.

He is establishing dominance. Testing them. Seeing who will break first.

And thus, the first day of the Academy was over.






I, Hiro, and Mido were returning from the Academy.

The wind finally stopped.

It happened regularly in Suna. Then the heat rolled in, thick and heavy, and I remembered where I was.

The courtyard looked like the desert had tried to swallow it whole.

Sand covered everything. Three inches of fine powder coated the ground, the steps, the window sills.

Mira was already outside when we got there.

She had her linen headscarf wrapped tight around her face, covering her nose and mouth. Only her dark and sharp eyes showed, scanning the damage to the orphanage structure, like a general surveying a battlefield. The eastern wall of the boys' dormitory had taken the worst of it. The mud plaster that protected the adobe bricks underneath had been scoured away, leaving the raw clay exposed and vulnerable. Another storm like that one, and the whole thing would come down.

"Jiro, Garuda, Soma!"

Her voice cut through the courtyard like a blade. The younger kids hiding in the shaded alcoves flinched. I didn't blame them. Mira had that effect on people.

"The wind has passed. Bring out the baskets. If we don't patch the toub before the midday heat, the next gale will take the roof with it."

Toub. That's what they called the mud plaster here. I'd heard the word a hundred times, but it still sounded foreign on my tongue. Everything in Suna had its own name and its own weight.

Jiro, Garuda, and Soma were the oldest boys in the orphanage. Twelve years old, all three of them. The rest of the kids their age had already left. Some got adopted, some got various apprenticeships under smiths or carpenters, and the rest left in search of a job. These three stayed. I didn't know why. Maybe they don't know where to go.

At 12 years old, the older boys were the strength and main manpower of the orphanage. They moved with the eager, clumsy efficiency of boys trying desperately to be seen as men. And the orphanage didn't have the coin to hire a master builder from the village center, nor did the Matrons have connections or money to hire shinobi to mold the earth with a hand sign. They only had a few big kids and their hands, a communal pit, and fifty hungry mouths to protect. I only observed, as I was still too little to help with the heavy work, silently standing in the corner. Hiro and Mido also stayed.

The bigger boys moved fast, as if they had to prove something. Jiro dragged dry camel dung and chopped desert grass from the storage lean-to. Garuda hauled water from the underground cistern, his shoulders straining against the weight. Soma stood off to the side, watching, waiting for instructions.

Mira stepped into the dry dirt crater at the center of the courtyard. Her bare feet sank into the silt, and she didn't flinch. She'd done this before. Probably a hundred times.

"Dump the water in the center, Garuda. Slowly now."

The water hit the clay-rich sand, and the smell changed. Like the ground after the first rain of the season, if rain ever came to this place. Mira started to march. Her knees came up high, her heels drove deep into the sludge.

Clack, squish. Clack, squish.

"Come, boys, help me break the clumps!"

Jiro and Garuda jumped in. Muddy water splashed up their legs, but they didn't care. They stomped and marched alongside her, their feet finding the same beat. Soma joined a second later, and together they formed a circle. A small, moving machine of legs and feet and purpose.

Garuda tossed in handfuls of grass. The fibers tangled into the mud, invisible but strong. Like the veins in a leaf. Like the ropes that held weight together.

I thought of the upper districts, with their high, smooth walls and wind-sculpted gardens. The people there didn't stand in pits of dung. They didn't know the backbreaking rhythm of repair and renewal. Their wealth was a fortress that kept the desert and everyone in it who was poor at a distance.

"The rich build to ignore the desert," Mira said while working. "While we poor build to survive it."

Normally, houses in Suna are made of Lime mortar and cut stones, with a coating of lime plaster. The rich ones even have imported Oak beams, kiln-baked bricks, and solid hardwood doors.

The poor people use raw mud plaster for walls and surface repairs, bundled reeds and Palm fronds for roof and ceiling support, animal dung and ash slurry for surface finishes, and woven reed and animal hide as door and window reinforcement.

For a sanctuary like the orphanage, surviving the brutal desert sandstorms meant striking a delicate, often frustrating balance between what they could afford and what would actually keep the children safe. The matrons and the older boys could gather mud and camel dung for zero coin, upgrading to standard materials required hard currency that the orphanage rarely possessed.

"How come we could afford beautiful lime plaster on the inside walls?" Garuda said, while working.

"The council funded the Tadelakt; that's what the process is called, when the orphanage was first built."

"Why?"

Mira leaned back against a sack of millet. "Because it was a project. A way to show the village they cared. A polished gem in the poor quarter to puff up their pride and vanity, but polish fades, kids." She continued while talking to us all, "And when it does, they forget to pay for the upkeep. They see the gleaming floors and assume it's all like that. They don't see the cracks in the back or the children shivering through the sandstorms."



__________________________________________________________________________________________



About an hour passed. The sticky mud transformed from a chaotic pile of dirt into something smooth and heavy, a dough-like substance.

"Good. It's ready." Mira wiped her forehead with a muddy forearm, leaving a brown streak across her skin. "Jiro, grab the baskets."

They scooped the wet sludge into woven palm-fiber containers. The baskets sagged under the weight, but they held. Mira led them to the damaged wall.

The Orphanage did not even have a trowel. Mira's hands were her tools. She grabbed a massive clump of the fibrous mud and hurled it against the scoured wall.

Thwack.

The sound echoed through the courtyard. It was oddly satisfying.

She smeared the paste upward and outward with her palm, smoothing it over the exposed bricks. The boys followed behind her, pressing the plaster flat with wooden boards. They took care not to leave any air pockets or gaps. The desert heat would find every weakness if they left one.



I watched them work and thought about what it meant.

This was different from things I was learning at the Academy. This was survival, plain and simple. The kind that asked a simple question: can you keep the roof over your head, or can't you?

By the time the sun reached its highest point, the wall was transformed.

Fresh mud plaster covered the dormitory facade, thick and protective. The raw adobe bricks were hidden again, safe behind their new skin. It wasn't pretty or perfect. But it would hold, for a while.

Mira stepped back. Her legs were caked in dried mud up to her shins. Her hands were stained brown. She looked at the boys, their faces splattered with earth, and then at the younger kids peeking out from behind the reinforced walls.

She wiped her hands on her apron. A tired smile broke through the dust on her face.

"Good work for today," she said. "Now wash up. You all smell like a camel's backside."

The boys laughed and shoved each other, the tension of the morning dissolving into relief. The younger kids crept out of their hiding spots, drawn by the laughter. Even the air felt lighter.



__________________________________________________________________________________________



The repairs will take three more days. I, Hiro, and Mido also volunteered for repairs.

Mira refused at first, " You three are too little."

Hiro and Mido looked dejected, Hiro more so. I had the feeling Hiro was more eager to help.

I asked Mira, "How can we become shinobi if we could not help repair our home?"

Mira had a look when I called the orphanage home,



It was the truth, danger lady; don't look at me like that.



Then I saw a glimpse of a smile. "Ok, but you all will only do light work"

On the side, I saw Jiro frowning.

Seeing us three join the repair work, other kids also started joining.

"I will help."

"I will also help."

"I will help."

"I will help also."

The children's chorus echoed through the orphanage.

Me and all the younger kids? No, they were older than me now; older kids helped where they could, carrying water, fetching tools, holding things in place while the older ones worked. I learned how mortar was mixed and applied to walls so they could withstand wind, sand, and heat. I also learned where structures cracked first and how they failed.



The repairs ended only two days later; my hands were covered in calluses and small cuts. My muscles ached from lifting and carrying. But I could look at a wall and see how it was put together. I could look at a foundation and know if it would hold.

On the last day of repairs, Matron Yumi gathered us in the courtyard.

She walked slowly around the building, her cane tapping against the ground. We stood in a ragged line, covered in dust and sweat, waiting for her verdict.

When she finished her inspection, she turned to face us.

"Acceptable," she said.




The Academy settled into a rhythm. Mornings were for reading, writing, and calligraphy, followed by taijutsu and chakra exercises. Afternoons were for mathematics, geography, and history.

I fell into the pattern easily, my body and mind adapting to the demands. I was not the best in the class; that distinction belonged to a clan boy named Katsuro, whose calligraphy was flawless and whose taijutsu forms were sharp as blades. I was not the worst; that dubious honor went to a civilian boy named Taro, who had already been pulled aside by instructors for extra help.

My performance in Physical exercises was better than other children except clan kids, and I was improving. But theory was where I excelled, only behind Gamon, the blue-haired boy, and Katsuro. But I watched and learned. I cataloged every detail: the instructors' habits, the students' weaknesses, the subtle hierarchies forming within the class. Hiro had found his place among the energetic ones, always volunteering, always pushing himself. Mido had found his among the quiet ones, observing more than participating, his dark eyes missing nothing.

And the clan children? They kept to themselves, speaking in whispers, practicing techniques they had learned before the Academy. They thought they were better than us. Maybe they were. But blood and lineage weren't everything. The desert didn't care about clan names or family techniques. It only cared about survival.



____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

[Daddycool101]

Hashirama got ninja'd.

Click to shrink...

Hoshigakure is filler bullshit

 

[GeomZii]

Celestial Sandstorm

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 8: A Place among the Sand

___________________________________________________________________________________



Kaito POV:

In Suna, the sand never really leaves you. The grit and heat always find their way into every crease and fold, no matter how tightly you wrap your clothes. I learned that in my first week in Suna, and it stuck with me like everything else.

The orphanage sat on the eastern edge of the village, close enough to the walls that you could hear the wind screaming through the gaps at night. It was a squat building made of sun-baked clay and stone. It does not have windows on the outside; narrow windows open inside in the central courtyard, which help regulate indoor temperatures in desert climates by utilizing natural convective cooling and shading. During the day, the sun heats the air above and inside the upper parts of the courtyard. This hot air rises and escapes out of the top of the open courtyard, keeping the inside of the orphanage cool.

During the day, these thick walls absorb the relentless heat from the sun. When the desert air temperature plummets, the thick walls finally finish conducting the day's heat all the way through, and they begin radiating that stored warmth inward into the living spaces and outward into the courtyard. And as the desert air rapidly cools at night, this heavy, cool air sinks directly into the open courtyard, filling it like a reservoir.

Windows facing the courtyard draw this trapped cool air directly into the surrounding rooms, flushing out the daytime heat. It was a poor man's replica of a courtyard house.

Like most buildings in Suna, the orphanage has a basement. The basement area keeps cool during the day and warm at night. It also serves as a makeshift store and emergency evacuation area during severe winds and sandstorms.

The central courtyard was where the matrons hung laundry, and the younger kids played games that always ended in tears. There were no windows on the outside, but doors on all sides. Usually, only one gate was opened; all gates were only opened in case of severe winds. There was also a sandy open area in the backside of the orphanage that served as a back lobby. I claimed a corner of that lobby months ago. Nobody bothered me there. Orphans learn early not to ask too many questions about what other orphans do with their time.



One day, Jiro came.

I'd known him since my first day. He ran the orphanage the way a minor lord ran a small holding. He made sure to avoid the matrons. But Jiro had been there longer than anyone, survived longer than anyone, and learned to trade favors and information like currency. He was practical. In a place where resources were scarce and attention scarcer, he'd figured out that control was the only thing worth having. He also had two bigger boys, Garuda and Soma, following. He noticed my late-night training.

"What are you doing?" he said one evening, leaning against the courtyard wall.

The sun had just set, painting the sky in copper and rust. I'd been mid-stance, one foot planted, hands raised, earth trembling beneath my palms. I didn't turn around.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You think yourself some big shot now that you are selected in the academy." He pushed off the wall and walked closer. His old second-hand sandals crunched on loose gravel. "They will kick you out soon.

"Hnn." I did not bother replying.



What's his problem?



He stopped a few feet away. At 12 years old, he seemed giant to me. He had a lean, wiry build that came from years of not eating quite enough. Dark, shaggy hair always falling into his eyes. A scar on his chin from a fight he never talked about.

I finally turned. The earth settled beneath my feet, going still.

"So what's the problem?" I asked as politely as possible, trying not to escalate it into a fight.

His jaw tightened. The two boys following him shifted nervously. For a moment, he looked like he might say something else. Then the mask slid back into place.

"No problem. Try to keep up, or the academy will push you out."

"I will work harder."

"Maybe." His eyes narrowed. Jiro wasn't just jealous; there was something else in his eyes.

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he shrugged and stepped back.

I watched the bully group go. The lobby felt smaller somehow. I waited until he disappeared inside, then turned back to my training.

The earth responded to me like always.



__________________________________________________________________________________



As soon as I started the Earthbending... that was something else entirely. It was exhilarating and terrifying. I practiced when I could in the dead of night, when the other orphans were asleep, and the matrons were in their quarters. There, in the small lobby behind the orphanage, I experimented with shifting and moving rocks, and learning what my new power could do.

Much to my disappointment, while I had gained knowledge and a power source, I did not get the muscle memory and years of practice and experience of an earthbender. The knowledge was there: how to draw strength from my stance, how to follow the rhythm of the earth, how to turn my yang chakra into physical force. But understanding and execution were different things. My yang chakra acted as chi reserves that I had to learn to control. When I tried to bend, I felt the earth respond, but weakly, a faint resonance instead of the thrumming power I knew should be possible.


Just because I know how something works doesn't mean my body knows how to do it. Knowing and doing are two completely different animals.


It will take time, I told myself. Time, practice, and patience.

The Earthbending practice was going well. I got the basic forms down, learned to move sand and stone with decent precision. The earth responded to my will now, bending to my commands with a satisfying thrum of power. Although doing it in a fight was still a distant goal.

I stood in the center of the training ground, feeling the stone beneath my feet. It was alive in a way I couldn't quite describe not conscious or aware, but like it was waiting for me.


"Again," I muttered.


I stomped my foot, and a pillar of stone erupted from the ground. I twisted, and the pillar crumbled, reforming into a wall. Doing so took more concentration, which gave me a headache. I continued practicing until my yang chakra reserves were exhausted, my muscles screamed, and my mind blurred with fatigue.

After being physically exhausted, I sat in the room meditating that was given to us after our selection in the academy. It was barely large enough to be a cabin, about 2m x 1.5m. Me and Hiro were given one, and the other was given to Mido. A cot was shoved against each wall, a small shelf above it, and enough floor space left over to stand if you didn't mind brushing both walls. Hiro had claimed the cot closest to the door. He said it was because he wanted to be first out in an emergency. I think he just liked being able to see who was coming.

He had been asleep for an hour, maybe more. His breathing had settled into that slow, steady rhythm I'd learned to recognize. I envied him sometimes. The ease with which he could sleep quickly.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, my back against the wall, and closed my eyes. The sand outside whispered, a sound I'd grown used to. Suna at night was never truly quiet. The desert had its own voice, low and constant, like something breathing. Or someone.



Guess I know where the phrase sand remembers comes from.



Meditation wasn't something they taught at the Academy. They talked about chakra control exercises, about molding and shaping, but they never explained how to sit with yourself and listen. I sit in the room and just breathe. Slow it down, deepen it. Let the air fill my lungs and then release it, nice and easy. Let my thoughts settle like sediment in still water. Then I turned my attention inward, trying to focus on the chakra inside me.



Chakra wasn't something you could see. But you could feel it, if you paid attention. A warmth that moved through the body like a second pulse. Mine had grown stronger. The constant physical training at the Academy had expanded my reserves, and the nightly meditation had taught me how to find them.



I focused on my core first. The center of my chest, just below the sternum. That was where the Chakra pooled, dense and heavy. I could feel it now. A slow-burning heat that radiated outward, filling my limbs, my fingers, my toes. I could feel it barely for a moment.



The warmth spread through my chest. It swirled, and I held it there; let it build. Chakra had a presence and weight to it. When I focused, I could almost feel it inside me. A river of light flowing through channels I couldn't name but could sense.



The pathways were there. Tenketsu. That was what the instructors called them. The nodes where chakra pooled and flowed. There were hundreds of them scattered throughout the body, each one a tiny gate that could be opened or closed. Most people never learned to control them consciously. It took years of training, for decades, for some.



The only ones who could do it constantly with ease and teach it to their kids were the Hyugas.



I was just trying to feel them.

My awareness drifted down my spine, counting the points as I passed. Each one hummed with a faint vibration like plucked strings. Some were louder and brighter than others. Those were the ones that fed my limbs, my core, my senses. The ones that mattered most for a shinobi.

I lingered on the ones in my hands. They were important for hand seals. For channeling chakra into jutsu. The instructors had drilled us on the twelve basic seals until our fingers cramped, but they never explained why the seals worked. Now I understood. Each seal position created a specific flow pattern through the tenketsu in the hands. A type of circuit, a shape that told the chakra what to do.



Knowledge without practice is useless. But it is knowledge that made the practice worth something.



I moved my focus to my feet. The tenketsu there were denser and heavier, but chakra flowed through them roughly. They connected to the earth in a way I couldn't quite explain. When I rooted myself in the Sand Stance, I could feel the chakra flowing down through those points, anchoring me. It was the same principle as earthbending, I realized. Drawing strength from the ground. Letting the earth support you.

The connection made me wonder if chakra and earthbending were related somehow. Different expressions of the same underlying force. The Grimoire's knowledge suggested as much, though it never said it outright. Yang chakra, Chi, Life force. Different names for things that all came from the same Well of Energy.

I didn't have an answer. But the question was there, sitting in the back of my mind, waiting for more information.

The chakra in my core began to settle. The flow slowed, steadying into something calm. I held it there, not pushing, not pulling. Just existing with it. The warmth spread through my body, easing the aches from the day's training. My muscles relaxed. My breathing deepened.

This was the part I liked best. The quiet and the stillness. The sense that everything was connected, if only for a moment.

I had tried to stop mixing yin and yang chakra but had not been successful yet. From what I read, the two mix on their own. If you want to feel it, there was an advanced trick Hara-sensei barely discussed. We had to manually stop them from mixing into Chakra.

Guess the Hara-sensei said the truth: "Many shinobi live their whole lives without feeling their yin and yang chakra."

I had not gotten anywhere with it. The first few months had been a mess. I'd try to separate the energies and end up with nothing but a headache. Of course, I did not even know what my yin chakra felt like; how would I stop my yin chakra from mixing with yang chakra, when they mix naturally? The first time I felt my yang chakra was when I acquired the earth-bending perk. But that has been different; the entire process was… assisted by the Celestial Grimoire. And I somehow got the ability to use my yang chakra, but only for earth-bending. If I gathered my yang chakra for earth-bending and then tried to do anything different, it dispersed back.

The desert whispered outside. I let the sounds wash over me, blending with the rhythm of my own heartbeat.

In. Out. In. Out.

Hiro shifted in his sleep and mumbled something I couldn't make out. Then went still again.

I opened my eyes.

The room was dark. The faint glow from the moon filtering through the single small window was the only light. I could see Hiro's outline on the cot. The rise and fall of his chest. The tangle of blankets he'd kicked off in his sleep.

And then, I let myself drift to sleep.



____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________



AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hey everyone!

Thank you for reading Chapter 8 of Celestial Sandstorm!

This chapter was about Kaito taking another step toward understanding his abilities. His Earthbending is improving, but he still has a long way to go before he can use it effectively in combat.

I also wanted to explore his attempts to understand chakra, particularly the relationship between Yin, Yang, and Earthbending.

What did you think of this chapter?

What are your thoughts on Kaito's encounter with Jiro?

Do you think his Earthbending training is progressing at the right pace?

What do you think about his meditation and chakra experiments?

Do you have any theories about how his abilities might develop?

The Quote is mine. "Knowledge without practice is useless. But it is knowledge that made the practice worth something."



If you enjoyed the chapter, please consider leaving a rating, review, or comment.

Every bit of feedback is appreciated and helps motivate me to continue writing.

Thank you for being part of Kaito's journey!

See you in the next chapter!

 

[Trimgold]

Tftc

 

[Finnish_man]

Great stuff cant wait for more i love celestial stuff i kinda hope to see him become the kage would be i tresting and in my opinion the best option with the celestial grimoire being a missing shinobi is so so much work and no chill or relationships

 

[rockus4]

Will he be able to learn magic from elder scrolls because thats a while different level of power and crazy versatility.

 

[GeomZii]

Will he be able to learn magic from elder scrolls because thats a while different level of power and crazy versatility.

Click to shrink...

Maybe . Maybenot. Will have to wait.

 

[Xcell]

(, I did not get the muscle memory of an earthbender. The knowledge was there—how to draw strength from my stance,) this is just an opinion I don't think moving is necessary to actually bend an element in Avatar. As all the movement stuff seems to me like training wheels to get a feel for your chi and later on to develop the ability to control the element with your mind or facial expressions. As it seems to me like the ultimate expression of mastery over bending is to be able to control the element with your mind or just with facial expressions. As there are many examples of this in the series if you pay attention. And the other variance of bending are just applied knowledge and creativity. Course I could be wrong as I haven't watched that Avatar last Airbender in a long time.

 

[GeomZii]

(, I did not get the muscle memory of an earthbender. The knowledge was there—how to draw strength from my stance,) this is just an opinion I don't think moving is necessary to actually bend an element in Avatar. As all the movement stuff seems to me like training wheels to get a feel for your chi and later on to develop the ability to control the element with your mind or facial expressions. As it seems to me like the ultimate expression of mastery over bending is to be able to control the element with your mind or just with facial expressions. As there are many examples of this in the series if you pay attention. And the other variance of bending are just applied knowledge and creativity. Course I could be wrong as I haven't watched that Avatar last Airbender in a long time.

Click to shrink...

Yes agreed. It's a crutch. A training regime. Many skilled ones can do it via thought . But still it's required by benders who are learning.
I can't compare anything to sudden knowledge arriving in new body, closest is car driver , driving a truck while injured in one hand. Even though systems are same , he will struggle to drive.

 

[Riserflaming]

"Chika mentioned it. She said you're improving too fast. That it's unnatural."

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A Bum trying to look at a prodigy will always find things unnatural.

"Maybe I'm a fast learner."

"Maybe." She stepped closer. "Or maybe you're something else entirely."

I met her gaze without flinching. "What are you suggesting?"

She said coldly. "Nothing. Just... observing."

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Kakashi created Chidori when he was 12 years old. Itachi awakened his Mangekyo when he was 12 and became a Kage level Shinobi.

Obito became strong as fuck (even though he kinda overrelied on Kamui) when he was 14. Sasuke created multiple Chidori variants and Kirin (an S class ninjutsu) when he was 14-15 years old.

Heck, if you want to talk about non-clan kids, then Minato beat multiple Special Jonins when he was a kid. Even in Suna, Sasori was strong enough to kill the Third Kazekage when he was a teen.

The world doesn't lack prodigies. This Chika girl is just a bum who can't accept that True Prodigies exist because she has never seen one before.

 

[search]

Will the Magicka pool become more chakra? Or let him do some simple but effective magic that chakra sensors can't detect?

 

[Turncoat]

" Yes every student and some sensei. You're better than the other civilians."

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This is awkward. And might need an edit.

 

[Inanity]

My matron—I learned her name was Aiko.

My Matron—Sari, I would later learn her name—pulled

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What?

 

[Diakkruzh]

It's interesting, but my god all the character interactions are so robotic it's irritating to read. All the characters sound the same.

 

[Psyren1596]

I'm enjoying this fic, plus the celestial picks are interesting too. I just don't fully understand why the MC isn't trying to stand out more, or at least aim for more spectacular achievements like top in the class or poison/healing prodigy without shying away from notice… he would get more CP and more celestial grimoire rolls.

 

[GeomZii]

It's interesting, but my god all the character interactions are so robotic it's irritating to read. All the characters sound the same.

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Will work more on that, I just wanted to show si perspective. Some interludes and other pov's might fix that issue.
It's my first fic, I am posting as I am writing without editor. So there are bound to be mistakes.