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.

Click to shrink...

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.

 

[DivyanshKundu]

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.

 

[DivyanshKundu]

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]

Rough/unedited Drafts.


As soon as I started the Earthbending... that was something else entirely. It was exhilarating. Also 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 courtyard behind the orphanage, I experimented. Moving rocks. Shifting sand. 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 practice 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.

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

The Earthbending practice was going well—better than well. I had mastered the basic forms, learning to move sand and stone with increasing precision. The earth responded to my will now, bending to my commands with a satisfying thrum of power. 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, not aware. But 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. I practiced until my yang chakra reserves were exhausted, until my muscles screamed and my mind blurred with fatigue.

The first year passed like sand through fingers.
I learned to read the Academy the way I had learned to read the orphanage—watching, waiting, and cataloging every detail that might one day mean the difference between survival and failure. And classes were progressing. I was well ahead of the others in the basics—reading, writing, and calligraphy, history—except for the clan kids. Mathematics was where I truly excelled, even when the questions here were more tricky than they had any right to be.

Hara-sensei was not the only instructor, but he was the one who mattered. The others came and went—a rotating cast of chūnin and occasional chunin who taught specialized subjects with varying degrees of competence and enthusiasm. Hara-sensei was constant. He observed every class, every exercise, every sparring match. His eyes missed nothing. I made certain he saw nothing worth noticing.

"So. First lesson!" Hara-sensei began, slamming his hand on the desk. "For shinobi, our greatest tool—the thing that makes us better than any mere warrior who curls a fist or trains with a weapon—is our ability to use chakra!"

He paced across the front of the room, his scarred face intense.

"Chakra is the basis of everything we do! Chakra is a mixture of both physical energy and mental or spiritual energy moulded together. Physical energy is collected from the body and spiritual energy from the mind's consciousness, and it can be increased through studying, meditation, training, and experience. The most important thing you can learn to develop is your chakra! It will determine your strengths and weaknesses. What jutsu you can use in the future, how much you can use, and how you fight! Developing your chakra will be something taught throughout your time here."

He formed a hand seal.

"Hand seals are used for manipulating chakra commonly. The best way to channel your chakra is to begin looking within while forming a completed circuit with your most commonly used pathways. This means the hands." On his left hand, the index and middle finger pointed up while the other two curled over the top of a mirroring right hand.

"There are twelve 'commonly' used hand seals." He said
Huh, these handseals match with the Chinese zodiac. I wondered
Hiro sensei said loudly grabbing my attention " This is the Ram seal! The best for gathering up your chakra and making it flow freely!"

Hiro leaned over to me, whispering, "Why does he make everything sound like life or death?"

"Because it is," I whispered back.

Hara-sensei's eyes snapped to us. "Something to share with the class, Kaito? Hiro?"

"No, sensei," we said in unison.

"Good. Now, this handseal will make you light up like a firework to any sensors, so if you have to perform this prior to creating any jutsu, you are giving away your position and you are also wasting time. Part of practising jutsu is making sure you have the pathways well trained such that you can rapidly flow through the hand seals required to make it work."

He worked through another two hand seals slowly.
Apparently, we would only learn what chakra is and practice hand seals in this subject throughout the first year. We weren't taught much about chakra, other than that it existed. But we were drilled mercilessly on hand seals. How to recognize them, how to form them, what they were most often associated with.

The twelve hand seals were: Ram, Snake, Horse, Dragon, Rat, Ox, Tiger, Hare, Bird, Dog, Boar, and Monkey.
We spent hours each day practicing the seals—forming them, releasing them, flowing from one to the next in rapid succession. My fingers cramped. My hands ached. But I persisted.

By the end of the first month, I could form all twelve seals in under three seconds. By the end of the third month, I could do it in two. By the end of the first year, I could flow through the entire sequence in under a second—faster than anyone else in the class except the clan kids, who had been practicing since they could walk.

During a break between classes, Hiro collapsed onto the ground beside me, groaning.
"My hands are going to fall off," he complained. "How do you do it so fast?"
"Practice," I said simply.
"That's not an answer!"
"It's the only answer that matters."

Mido sat down nearby, watching our interaction, her expression thoughtful.

Hiro forcefully said " I've been practicing longer and you're still faster than me."
A hint of anger was there. And a pint of jealousy too. He wanted too master handseals quickly and become ninjutsu master. And which child don't want to do Ninjutsu left and right. But he will never be a master of ninjutsu. He doesn't have the chakra reserves nor the control to perform ninjutsu in fights for long term. No matter how hard I try, he will lack behind in that area always.

I shrugged bringing back myself from thoughts and said "Maybe I just have nimble fingers."

Hiro snorted. "Nimble fingers. Right. Next you'll tell us you've been secretly training with the clan kids."

"No," I said flatly. "I haven't."

"Then how—"

"Hiro," Mido interrupted quietly. "Let it go."
Hiro looked between us, confused, but dropped the subject.

Taijutsu was a different beast.
At the Academy, we were all taught an adaptation of the basic style, called the Sabaku-ryu, the 'desert style.' It was a version of the Suna taijutsu style that had been adapted specifically for children and teenagers. It emphasized dodging and deflection with the understanding that any opponents we encountered would be taller, stronger, and faster than us. There were many feints involved and katas for usage of poison or hidden weapons, though none were present in first year.

There was no sparring yet. Most of first-year Taijutsu involved practicing katas, pre-fighting stretching, warm-ups, running, and various drills. It was still mostly stamina exercises, like running, press-ups, setups. There were flexibility exercises, stretches, obstacle courses. And there were rigidly repeated basics.

The basic stance was called the "Sand Stance"—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, weight distributed evenly. It was a defensive posture, designed to allow quick movement in any direction.

"Root yourself," the instructor said—a chūnin assistant teacher named Kenji who had lost two fingers on his left hand in some forgotten skirmish. "You are the desert. Unmovable. Unshakeable. Let your enemies break against you like waves against stone."

I understood this instinctively. The earthbending training had taught me to root myself, to draw strength from the ground beneath my feet. The Sand Stance was a pale imitation of the Horse Stance, but it was close enough. The first kata was simple: a sequence of blocks, deflections, and counters. Step forward, deflect with the left arm, counter with the right. Step back, deflect with the right arm, counter with the left. Repeat.

We practiced it hundreds of times. Thousands. Until the movements became instinct, until our bodies moved without conscious thought.
"Again," Kenji said. "Faster."

We practiced until our muscles screamed and our minds blurred. We practiced until the kata was as natural as breathing. By the end of the first year, I could execute the basic kata with mechanical precision. Not perfect—the clan kids were still better—but competent. Reliable.

The Academy's curriculum was brutal but effective—daily runs, daily calisthenics, daily drills. By the end of the first year, I could run for hours without stopping, perform a hundred push-ups without rest, and execute taijutsu forms with mechanical precision.

The academic theory classes were a welcome break from the physical training.

In reading and writing classes, Hara-sensei said "Words are weapons," tapping the chalkboard. "A well-placed word can start a war. A poorly-placed word can end a life. You will learn to use words as carefully as you use kunai."

We learned to read and write in the common script—the simplified characters used throughout the Elemental Nations. We learned to write after mission reports, to compose letters, to take notes, to write short emergency messages. We learned to read between the lines, to identify subtext, to recognize when something false was written and spot false information.

Calligraphy was a separate class, where we learned the art of brush and ink—the precise strokes, the careful spacing, the subtle variations in pressure that transformed mere characters into works of art. "Calligraphy is not just writing," Hara-sensei said. "It is meditation. It is discipline. It is the physical manifestation of your inner state. A calm mind produces elegant strokes. A chaotic mind produces chaos."

Mathematics was where I truly excelled.
All those years of formal education finally has some use. Hehe.
The instructors taught arithmetic, algebra, geometry—the basic mathematical foundations that every shinobi needed. Calculating trajectories, estimating distances, measuring angles, determining the amount of explosive tag required to destroy a bridge. But the questions here were more tricky than they had any right to be.

The Ideology of Sand was the subject I hated most, filled with propaganda to brim. While I agree propaganda has its uses but too much lies and falsehood would hinder students more in the field. Our sensei should have recognized it. Even Shinobi were not immune to cultural conditioning and biases blind spots.
or students were left to figure it out themselves and those who fail will be field casualty A dark thought occur in mind. No suna doesn't have that many shinobi population to kill it's own shinobi. I try to reassure myself but picture of Pakura came to my mind.

My chakra reserves grew as well, fed by the constant physical conditioning and my nightly meditation. I could feel it now—a warm river of energy flowing through my body, ready to be shaped and directed. I practiced chakra control obsessively, pushing energy into my limbs, holding it, releasing it.

By the end of the year, I could stick sand to my forehead only with chakra control without using earthbending arts. A minor achievement by shinobi standards, but I knew what it meant. I could strengthen my body with chakra. I could move faster, strike harder, endure longer.

The year ended and I passed my exams—not with distinction, but with competence. I was promoted to the second year, along with Hiro, Mido, and perhaps twenty other students. The rest had either failed or dropped out.

Gamon was first in the class rankings at the year's end, as expected. Katsuro was second. I was seventh.
Hiro said, looking at the results, "Hey! Kaito. Look, look. You ranked seventh. Perhaps you could beat the clan kids next year, if you trained hard."

I shrugged. "Yes, I will."

Hiro was many things—loyal, energetic, and surprisingly perceptive when he bothered to pay attention—but he did not understand.
Mido understood, though she never said so.

Gamon was the class prodigy hailing from the Hitome clan.

The Hitome clan was a minor clan with very few members that had arrived from the Land of Lightning in ancient times during the Warring States Era. They specialized in Magnet Release, although only very few among the their tiny numbers in the clan had an active bloodline, usually skipping generations. Gamon was one such boy in our class. He was also the clan prodigy.

He had short, messy dark-blue hair and narrow yellow eyes, sharp features, and a fair complexion. He was a very calm and stoic person, displaying no visible emotion but also proud and stubborn. His family—the Hitome clan, if rumors were true—had trained him in taijutsu and ninjutsu. He excelled at everything, only lagging behind Katsuro in calligraphy, some theory classes, and taijutsu. But he was catching up fast.

Gamon had pale yellow eyes that always seemed to be looking at something beyond what was directly in front of him.

During a break, Gamon approached me.
"Seventh place," he said, his voice flat. "Not bad for an orphan."

I met his gaze. "I'll be higher next year."

"Will you?"

"Yes."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly. "We'll see."

He walked away without another word.
Then there was Katsuro Chikamatsu from the Chikamatsu clan—or, as I called them, the puppet clan—which was on the rise due to the Second Kazekage's strengthening of puppet techniques.

Monzaemon Chikamatsu was the inventor of the art of puppetry. Originally using puppets as a source of entertainment, he worked diligently with several shinobi under the guidance of the Second Kazekage to convert the talent into a unique form of combat.

His grandchildren, Lady Chiyo and Ebizo, the famous jōnin twins, and Chiyo's son, my classmate Katsuro, hailed from this clan. Their clan led the Puppeteer Department. However, due to the Second Kazekage and different shinobi helping in puppet technique research, power in the Puppeteer Department was more diluted. Their clan's chakra string style was not a bloodline, but they did have more affinity towards chakra strings, giving them an advantage.

Katsuro possessed the kind of effortless grace that made other children hate him on principle. While Gamon's taijutsu was head-on and brutal, Katsuro's taijutsu was precise, almost mechanical. Gamon was fast, but Katsuro was faster. Katsuro was strong, but Gamon was stronger. Gamon was different. Where Gamon was showy, Katsuro was quiet. Where Gamon demanded attention, Katsuro seemed to actively avoid it.

Then there was third rank Chika Moudoku from the Moudoku Clan—or, as they were commonly called, the poison clan—which was somehow the current strongest clan.

Truly, the wonders will never end, I mused. They had the most members in the Poison and Antidote Department and were largest clan of Suna.

Then fourth in rank was Kagerou Arashi from the Arashi clan, which specialized in Wind Release and formed the majority of the Wind Corps of Suna. They were famous for their giant folding fans.

The clans were given many benefits for joining Sunagakure by first Kazekage, it seems and furthermore for sending their kids to the Academy by second Kazekage, from what I could gather. Though officially all clans serve kazekage loyally but behind curtains they vie for power.

There were two more clan kids before me. After that we returned to the orphanage and had dinner among ourselves celebrating our passing the exams.

The Celestial Grimoire had stir after dinner,

Celestial Grimoire — 400 CP

Depths of the Mind (100 CP) — Magic The Gathering

The path of a Wizard is study, rote memorization and learning. These qualities are innate to those who wish to practice magic. Being infused with the cooling touch of Blue Mana, your intelligence has boosted along with your memory and ability to learn. Put simply, you are quite the savant, easily worth three of your peers when looking towards solving a problem, learning three times faster than normal, and having a perfect memory barring magical interference.

Accept?

Yes.

Remaining CP — 300

This will sure come in handy.

 

[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]

Rough/unedited Drafts.

The beginning of second year increased our workload more. It began with blood.

Not literally—though that would come soon enough. But metaphorically, the innocence of childhood died in the second year of the Academy. We were no longer children playing at being shinobi. We were weapons being forged in the desert's furnace.

I understood this the moment Hara-sensei walked into our classroom on the first day and threw a kunai into the chalkboard.
"Rules of shinobi warfare," he said, as if he hadn't just embedded a blade in school property. "First rule: there are no rules."

The class sat in stunned silence.
"Second rule: anyone who tells you otherwise is lying." He pulled the kunai free and began writing. "Third rule: survive."

The curriculum had shifted. Where first year had been about building foundations—reading, writing, basic physical conditioning—second year was about building foundations of killers. Every class, every exercise, every moment was designed to strip away the softness of civilian life and replace it with something harder. Something sharper. Naturally, I adapted.

The tactics and strategy classes were taught by a scarred chūnin named Renji, who had lost an eye in some skirmish before the war and spoke about warfare with the casual intimacy of a man describing an old lover.
"A shinobi who fights fair is a dead shinobi," Renji said, tapping a map of the Land of Wind. "You will never fight fair. You will fight dirty. You will fight smart. You will fight to win, and then you will go home and sleep like a baby because you know you did what was necessary."

But after gaining my Mind perk, I started excelling in all theory classes, leaving behind even Gamon, Katsuro. My perfect memory gave me a huge advantage.

During a study session, Chika Moudoku approached me, her expression curious.
"You've been different lately," she said. "Your answers in class... they're perfect. Too perfect."

I looked up from my notes. "Maybe I've just been studying harder."

"Maybe" She tilted her head, studying me like a specimen under a microscope. "Or maybe you're cheating or hiding something."

"Everyone hides something." I did not lower myself to comment on cheating. I could feel the trap there.

"Tch." She said after I failed to take the bait "Maybe. But most people don't hide it as well as you do."
She walked away before I could respond.

We practiced weapons for the first time—kunai, shuriken, how to throw them, how to store them, how to take care of weapons, how to hide them.
Weapons practice was where I struggled most. The kunai felt wrong in my hand. The shuriken spun unpredictably when I threw them. My body, trained by years of earthbending katas, wanted to move in ways that were incompatible with the fluid grace required for projectile weapons.
"Your stance is wrong," Hara-sensei said, watching me throw. "You're rooted. Too grounded. You need to be light. Fluid. Like the wind."

Like the wind. I filed that away.

The katas of earthbending exercises did not transfer easily to throwing knives and blades. On the contrary, they hindered my weapons throwing, as fluidity and agility were required. Though my aim was precise, Hara-sensei noted. I practiced obsessively. Every spare moment, every quiet hour, I threw kunai at targets until my fingers bled and my arm screamed. I threw until I could hit a target nine times out of ten. I threw until the motion became instinct.
But Hara-sensei was right. There was something fundamentally incompatible between my earthbending training and weapons work. The earth was solid. Patient. Immovable. Weapons required the opposite—speed, flexibility, the ability to flow from one motion to the next without hesitation. I would never be exceptional with thrown weapons. Competent, perhaps. But never exceptional.

So I focus my energy on other subjects.
The sparring sessions were where I truly learned what I was capable of.
Hiro was my first opponent. We squared off in the training yard, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the sand. He grinned at me, bouncing on his heels.

"Don't go easy on me, Kaito."

"I won't."

We clashed.

Hiro was fast— though not faster than me, certainly. He had always been energetic and had the natural athleticism of a child who had spent his life running and playing and fighting. His strikes were wild but powerful, each blow carrying the weight of his enthusiasm.

I was faster and precise. And I could think three times faster than him.
I let him come at me, deflecting his strikes with minimal movement. The Sabaku-ryu emphasized evasion and redirection, turning an opponent's strength against them. I moved with the attacks, flowing around them like sand around a stone.

Hiro overextended. I grabbed his wrist, twisted, and sent him sprawling.
"Again," he said, scrambling to his feet.

We fought three more times. I won all three.

"Man," Hiro groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "When did you get so good?"

"Practice," I said.

"You always say that!"

"Because it's always true."

Taijutsu class came with sparring with other students. This was where clan kids truly shone. Even students whose parents were ninja excelled much better than civilian students. Even I was left behind. And when I faced the clan kids, the gap became apparent.

Gamon moved like a force of nature. Every strike was backed by years of training, every movement calculated for maximum efficiency. He didn't waste energy. He didn't hesitate. He simply acted, and his actions were devastating.

I lasted thirty seconds before he put me on the ground.
"Your defense is good," he said, offering me a hand. "But you hesitate. You think too much."

I took his hand and pulled myself up. "I'll work on it."

"You'll need to." His yellow eyes met mine. "The enemies we face won't give you time to think."

Katsuro was different. Where Gamon was overwhelming power, Katsuro was surgical precision. He moved like a puppet master controlling his own strings, every motion exact, every strike landing precisely where he intended.

I lasted forty-five seconds against him. Better, but still not enough.
"Interesting," Katsuro said, his voice soft. "You adapt quickly."

"Not quickly enough."

"No," he agreed. "Not yet."

After class, Kagerou Arashi approached me. She was tall for her age, with long dark hair tied back in a practical ponytail and sharp grey eyes that missed nothing.

"You're the orphan everyone is talking about," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Who is talking about me?."

" Every other student and I also heard sensei talk about you among themselves. It is only natural that shinobi will gossip, you're even better than some clan kids."

"Thank you."

She studied me for a moment. "Don't thank me yet. Being better than civilians isn't saying much. After all they are trash."
Her lips curved into a proud smile and she sneered "You will never be good as us."
She walked away stomping her feet, leaving me standing alone in the training yard.

The gap wasn't insurmountable. I could see it—the path forward, the training required, the improvements necessary. But it would take time.
The survival exercise came in the third month of second year.

We were taken into the desert before dawn—thirty children, two instructors, and enough supplies to last a week if we rationed carefully. The instructors left us at the edge of the deep desert, gave us coordinates for a rendezvous point, and disappeared.

"Survive," Hara-sensei said. "Reach the rendezvous in three days. Anyone who doesn't make it fails." Then he was gone.

The desert stretched before us, endless and indifferent. The sun was already climbing, the heat shimmering off the dunes. We had no food. No water. No shelter. Most of the class panicked. No food. No water. No shelter. Only what we could find or make. Even clan kids find the exercise difficult at first.

Ofcourse, all their life they had been supported by their clans. They were used to being resourceful.

Although, the clan kids recovered first, organizing themselves into groups, pooling whatever resources they have, planning routes. The civilians milled about in confusion, arguing about which direction to go. The orphans—those who had survived the first year—simply started walking.

I started walking too. But unlike the others, I wasn't just walking. I was feeling.
The earth beneath my feet spoke to me. Not in words—not in anything so concrete—but in sensations. Vibrations. The subtle shift of sand grains, the distant rumble of stone beneath the dunes. My earthbending training had given me a connection to the ground that went beyond chakra. It was instinctual now, as natural as breathing. I could feel the water hidden beneath the sand. Not much—this was the deep desert, after all—but enough. A trickle here, a pocket there. I marked the locations in my mind, building a mental map of survival.

I almost thrived. Almost.
The Nutrition perk I had gained years ago allowed me to survive on minimal food, stretching what little I could find into enough sustenance for days. But heat, winds, and sands were ever present.
At sunset, I found myself sitting on a sand dune, watching the sun wheel overhead. The desert was beautiful in its own way, vast and empty and indifferent. It did not care whether we lived or died. It simply was.

On the second day, I encountered Gamon.
He was alone, walking with the steady, measured pace of someone conserving energy. His clothes were torn, his face covered in dust, but his eyes were sharp.

"Kaito," he said.

"Gamon."

We fell into step beside each other, neither of us speaking. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the crunch of sand beneath our feet.

"How many have you passed?" he asked finally.

"Seven. Most of them weren't even moving."

He nodded. "I passed nine. Two were almost dead."

I didn't respond. There was nothing to say.
"The desert doesn't care," he said quietly. "It doesn't care about clans or bloodlines or training. It only cares about survival."

"Is that why you're helping me?" I asked. "Because the desert doesn't care?"

He looked at me, his yellow eyes unreadable. "I'm not helping you. I'm walking. You happen to be walking in the same direction."

"Of course."

We walked together for another hour before he veered off, heading toward a rock formation in the distance.
"Good luck, orphan," he said rudely, but there was no heat in words, merely truth.

That was the thing with Gamon, He usually was truthful and seemed larger than life kind of persona, I would not expect a shinobi to be, especially Clan shinobi. And Gamon also possessed charisma in excess. Perhaps that's why he was liked by many.
Heh. Who would have thought future third Kazekage was this charming and likeable in childhood.

"You too, prodigy."

On the third day, I reached the rendezvous point.
Hara-sensei was waiting, along with a handful of other instructors. They looked at me with something that might have been approval.
"You're the seventh to arrive," Hara-sensei said.
Seventh. I had expected to be higher.

Who else?
I looked around. Gamon stood off to the side, his clothes torn but his posture straight. Katsuro sat on a rock, his expression calm. Two other clan kids—Chika and Kagerou—were nearby. Two more clan kids were there but they look more tired.

The clan kids had beaten me. I thought, anger clouding my mind. Of course they had.

"Not bad," Chika said. "For an orphan."
I didn't respond. I simply found a spot in the shade and sat down to wait.

Twenty-three other students eventually arrived. Seven didn't. Hara-sensei and the others had to rescue them and bring them back.
After returning to class, Hara-sensei said, "You have had your first taste of the desert. This year you will learn only theory about survival. Which animals to hunt, which plants to avoid, common deadly animals of the desert, finding water, building shelter, avoiding predators, and how to survive the desert overall. This exercise was designed to give you a taste of heat, dust, thirst, hunger, sand, winds, and danger of the desert so that you take survival classes very seriously. The desert will kill you before any enemy shinobi could ever reach you."

The rest of second year passed in a blur of training and study.
I improved. Slowly, painfully, but undeniably. My weapons work improved slowly, but my taijutsu was getting better. I learned to move with the earth rather than against it, using my connection to the ground to anticipate my opponents' movements before they made them.

It wasn't cheating. Not exactly. I could feel the vibrations of their footsteps, the shift of their weight as they prepared to strike. My earthbending senses gave me an advantage that no one else in the class possessed.

 

[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]

Rough/unedited Drafts.


Third year brought chakra control, which became my favourite class.
This was what I had been waiting for —the foundation of everything else. Ninjutsu, genjutsu, medical techniques, sealing. All of it required precise chakra control, the ability to shape and direct energy with surgical precision.
I threw myself into the training with an intensity that bordered on obsession. I enjoyed it.

The first exercise was simple: channel chakra into a rock and make it move. The rock was placed on the palm, and the goal was to make it stick without gripping it in any form.
While most students took weeks to achieve even a flicker of movement.
I did it on the first time even before Gamon, Katsuro, who took some time. Other clan kids had done took full day. Huh. They should have done similar exercises in clans. Perhaps it's because of different types of rocks surface.

"Impressive," Hara-sensei said, watching the rock dance across my palm.
The second exercise was sand. Sand placed in the palm, and the goal was the same. It was harder than the rock—more scattered, more unpredictable. It required a lighter touch, a more delicate control.
I did not struggle. My earthbending training seemed to help me in this regard.

Hara-sensei watched my progress with increasing interest.
"You have a gift," he said. "A natural talent for chakra control. Or perhaps your earth affinity is very good." He eyed me curiously "Here try with this piece of cloth" he said. When I tried to stick cloth, I could not stick it that easily.
He made me do chakra exercise with leaf, paper , heavy pebbles, sand, rock and even water.

"Good news is you have a very high earth affinity." he said. " Bad news is for improving chakra control, doing chakra control exercises with stone, sand and rock will not be as effective for you as they are normally. You will have to do chakra exercises with different materials to improve your control comparatively" he said and then went away to help other students.

The infiltration and mannerism classes were a revelation.
I had expected them to be about sneaking around and pretending to be someone else. And they were—partially. But they were also about something deeper: the art of deception itself.
"The best lies are the ones people want to believe," the instructor said. She was a kunoichi named Kurumi, her face so unremarkable that I forgot it the moment I looked away. She had a short frame and tiny build.

"A good infiltrator doesn't just look like someone else—they become someone else. They think like them. Feel like them. Breathe like them."
We practiced assuming different roles. A merchant. A beggar. A noble. A servant. We learned to change our posture, our speech patterns, our mannerisms. We learned to read people—their desires, their fears, their weaknesses.

I was good at this. Disturbingly good.
"You're a natural," Hiro said, watching me impersonate a merchant haggling for goods. "Have you done this before?"
"No," I said. Ofcourse I had haggled money thousand of times before.

There was an irony to it. In a way, my entire existence in this world was an infiltration. I was pretending to be a child, pretending to be ordinary, pretending to be someone I wasn't. The skills I learned in Kurumi's class were just a more formal version of what I had been doing since birth.

I loved the history classes. The instructors taught from scrolls and oral traditions, recounting the history of the Elemental Nations with the reverence of priests reciting scripture. The founding of the villages. The wars. The treaties. The betrayals.

The basic finance class was surprisingly useful and easy for me. I had never thought of myself as a businessman, but as I sat through lessons on supply and demand, currency exchange, and the economics of warfare, I began to see the world in a new light.

Shinobi were weapons. Everyone knew that. But weapons cost money. Kunai, shuriken, explosive tags, medical supplies—all of it required resources. And resources required money. And money required trade.
Sunagakure was poor. The Land of Wind was poor. The desert provided little of value—some glass, some minerals, but nothing that couldn't be found cheaper elsewhere. The village survived on the reputation of its shinobi, on the fear they inspired, on the contracts they fulfilled.
But fear was a fragile currency. And reputation could be destroyed in a single mission.
I began to understand why Suna was always the weakest of the Five Great Villages. It wasn't just the environment, though that certainly didn't help. It was the economics. The Land of Wind had no resources. No farmland. No industry. It was a nation of nomads and warriors, living on the edge of survival. Of course I knew that before, but knowing and seeing firsthand were different. And the other nations knew it. I filed this knowledge away for later. But that time was not yet.

The years passed by and my rank start increasing, Thanks to theory marks and my efforts I have secured 5th rank. I would have ranked higher but it seems my scores have put pressure on Chika and Kagerou and they have improved more. Mido told me their clans had increased their training.

Fourth year was when we learned to kill.
Not literally—not yet. But the training changed. The sparring sessions became more brutal. The weapons practice became more intense. The survival exercises became more deadly.
We were being prepared. For what, exactly, no one said. But we all knew.

The ninjutsu theory classes were fascinating. We learned about the nature of chakra—how it was formed from physical and spiritual energy, how it was shaped by hand seals and mental imagery, how it could be manipulated to produce effects that defied the laws of physics.
But we didn't learn any actual jutsu. Not yet. The instructors explained that ninjutsu required more advanced chakra control than we currently possessed. We would learn techniques in fifth and sixth year, if we survived that long. Not that it stopped clan kids to learn. I also didn't wait.

At night, in the hidden corners of the orphanage, I practiced what I knew from my earthbending training. The techniques weren't jutsu—not exactly—but they were close enough. I could move rocks with my chakra. I could shape sand into simple forms. I could sense vibrations through the ground.
These weren't techniques that any Suna shinobi would recognize. They were bending forms—the movements of an earthbender, adapted to use chakra instead of chi. But they worked. And that was what mattered.

The Art of Illusions classes were more challenging.
Deception and misdirection are going to be a fundamental part of class. Most of subject focus was on petty tricks and blending in plain sight, the acting part to supplement our genjutsu. It was only at the end of year, we were introduced to genjutsu theory and only taught to recognise and flair our chakra to dispel genjutsu.
Illusions required a different kind of control—not the physical manipulation of earth and water, but the mental manipulation of perception. We learned to recognize genjutsu first, then to dispel it. The recognition was easy—I could sense the subtle wrongness of a genjutsu by the way the earth felt beneath my feet. But the dispelling required a surge of chakra that I found difficult to produce on command.

The intelligence gathering classes were more my speed. We learned to observe without being observed, to listen without being noticed, to extract information from the most mundane details. I was already good at this—my entire childhood had been an exercise in watching and waiting—but the formal training sharpened my skills to a razor's edge.

By the end of fourth year, I could read a person's intentions from their posture. I could identify a lie from the way their eyes moved. I could determine someone's emotional state from the rhythm of their breathing. At least for the civilians. Ninja were a different game. These were skills that would keep me alive.

Trapping was a class I hadn't expected to enjoy. I hated outing before. There was something satisfying about creating a mechanism—a sequence of events that would unfold without my direct intervention. A tripwire here, a pitfall there, a hidden spike in between. Traps were a conversation with the future, a way to shape events before they happened.I took to it naturally.
"The goal of a trap isn't to kill," the instructor said. "It's to control. To direct. To force your enemy into a position where you have the advantage."

I understood this. It was the same principle as earthbending—using the environment to shape the flow of combat. The earth was my ally, my weapon, my tool. Traps were just another way of extending my reach.
The first aid classes were more challenging. We learned to treat wounds—cuts, burns, fractures, infections. We learned to identify poisons and their antidotes. We learned to perform emergency surgery in the field, with nothing but basic tools and whatever supplies we could carry.

I was good at this too—better than I expected. My Celestial Grimoire perk, the one that had given me talent in healing, made everything easier and I could scored perfectly in theory due to perfect memory. I could diagnose injuries at a glance. I could remember complex medical procedures after a single reading. My hands, trained by years of earthbending, were steady and precise.

"You have a gift," Hara-sensei said. "Have you considered medical training as an elective?"
I had. The Medical Training elective in fifth and sixth years would give me access to advanced techniques, knowledge of poisons and antidotes, and a legitimate reason to develop abilities that would otherwise draw suspicion.
"I'll think about it," I said.

The sparring sessions had become brutal.
We fought with real weapons now—blunted, but still dangerous. We fought in teams, in environments that mimicked real combat conditions, in situations designed to test our limits.
I lost more often than I won. The clan kids were simply better—better trained, better equipped, better prepared. Gamon could have killed me a dozen times over in our sparring matches. Katsuro could have done the same.

Yet I was improving at a rate that made other clan kids worried. I tied in sparring with them sometimes. When the first time I had defeated a clan kid, sensei had praised me. But my focus was on getting stronger.

After one particularly intense sparring session, I found myself sitting against the wall, catching my breath. Mido sat down beside me, silent as always.
"You're getting stronger," she said.

"Trying to."

"The clan kids are worried."

I looked at her. "Are they?"

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

"What did you say?"

Mido shrugged. "I said maybe she's just not as good as she thinks she is."

I laughed. "You didn't."

"I did." She smiled slightly. "She didn't appreciate it."

"I can imagine."

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"Kaito," Mido said quietly. "Whatever you're doing—whatever's making you improve so fast keep doing it"

"I know."

"Good." She stood, brushing sand from her clothes. "Break the arrogance of clan kids"

Celestial Grimoire — 350 CP

Natural Talent (100 CP) — Fist Of The North Star • Talent

In both body and mind you are simply better than others. You learn quicker and remember more while your physical training is more effective, showing improvements in less time and making gains faster. It isn't much, perhaps just 1.1 times what you should be, but for someone with drive even that small edge can be an overwhelming advantage in the long run.

Accept?

Yes.

Remaining CP — 250
A 10% increase in training. Yes please.

 

[Daddycool101]

Hashirama got ninja'd.

Click to shrink...

Hoshigakure is filler bullshit

 

[GeomZii]

Rough/unedited Drafts.

Fifth year brought the electives.
I chose Poison and Antidotes as my primary specialization. It was a natural fit—Sunagakure's poison tradition was famous throughout the Elemental Nations, and the Moudoku clan had built their entire reputation on their mastery of toxins. Learning poison techniques would give me a powerful tool for both offense and defense.

The Medical Training elective was my secondary choice. Healing was already my talent—my Celestial Grimoire perk had made sure of that—but formal training would give me the practical skills to back up my natural aptitude.

The combination was perfect and with my healing art perk it will benefit me more. Poison and medicine were two sides of the same coin. The same knowledge that allowed me to kill could also allow me to save. Suna was known for poison.

I threw myself into the studies with renewed vigor.
The Fifth year Ninjutsu subject was where I finally learned real techniques.
Suna version of the academy three. Theory on elemental jutsu, their strengths and weaknesses.
Wind Release was the specialty of Sunagakure—the element that defined the Land of Wind, the power that had made the Arashi clan famous.

But there were enough E-rank earth jutsu that could be taught in the academy. This year we would only learn elemental jutsu theory.

The poisons class was my personal favorite.

The instructor was a member of the Moudoku clan—an old woman named Aimi. She had a face like cracked leather and hands that moved with the precision of a surgeon. She taught us the basics of poison crafting—how to extract toxins from plants and animals, how to concentrate them, how to mix them into compounds that could be delivered through contact, ingestion, or inhalation.

"The key to poison is knowledge," Aimi said during one class, holding up a small vial of green liquid. "You must know your poison—its effects, its symptoms, its antidote—before you can use it effectively. A poison without an antidote is a poison that will eventually kill you."

She glanced at me as she said this, her expression unreadable.

We learned to identify common poisons by sight, smell, and taste. We learned to craft basic toxins from desert plants—the deathroot, the sandviper's venom, the rare and deadly ghost's bane. We learned to administer antidotes, to purify contaminated water, to recognize the symptoms of poisoning in ourselves and others.

I excelled. My healing talent made the chemical interactions intuitive; my earthbending precision made my hands steady. By the end of the first semester, I could craft three different types of poison from memory. By the end of the second, I had developed my own formula—a fast-acting paralytic that could be delivered through contact.

After class one day, Chika approached me.
"That formula you developed," she said. "The paralytic."

"What about it?"

"It's good. Really good." She studied me with those sharp eyes. "How did you come up with it?"

"Experimenting."

"Experimenting." She repeated the word like it tasted strange. "You know, most people spend years learning what you seem to know instinctively. You don't experiment and develop new formula using this useless poisons that are taught in class."

"Useless?" I asked

"Ofcourse. Do you really thought teachers will teach you real poisons" She stepped closer. " The poisons taught in class can only kill civilians. These are common poisons that most ninja, especially in suna develop resistance. Most these poisons will slow other shinobi" She whispered smugly. "And yet you develop new fast-acting paralytic somehow"

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

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

She walked away, leaving me with the distinct impression that I had just been marked.

The genjutsu classes had become more advanced and terrifying.
When I arrived, from within and above shadows looked back as though watching. Cruel smiles stretched their faces like spirits that were just waiting for me to enter so they might tear me apart in their domain. This... it struck me as odd.

I felt out my chakra and grimaced as I detected another's chakra mixed in. I hadn't even... I sighed and flexed the chakra in a different direction before allowing it to return to its normal flow. Instantly the ominous portents of the building vanished. It became merely a building that even had different markings and colourations. The faces peering out at the group from the windows and the rooftops vanished. In their place, Kurumi-sensei remained.

Kurumi-sensei noticed I was watching her. I got a small smile and a nod before she formed a handseal. Instantly the feeling returned of being afraid of the entrance of the academy with it—I flexed my chakra and held in the glare I wanted to give.

What on earth was she doing?

She grinned at me before gesturing towards the doorway in a shooing motion as they allowed themselves a small nod. I blinked. Oh. Of course. This was a Genjutsu class.

I was an outlier.

"Hiro, Mido, flair your chakra," I said quietly.

"Eh? Kaito, I... well, I suppose I should," Hiro replied.

"Very well, Kaito," Mido said.

I licked my lips and found them wet. A strange feeling with how dry Suna was... I pulsed my chakra and felt for a moment my view of the surrounding area waver. I blinked in surprise before turning my attention towards my chakra pool.

Kurumi-sensei watched me with narrowed eyes.

I pretended not to notice her and instead probed at my own chakra. Something was wrong. Something was causing the illusionary dust. I flickered my chakra and frowned as the illusion shimmered. It was there but it wasn't nearly as bad. Or was that a sign that I didn't have anywhere near the chakra control I thought I did?

I couldn't even detect the chakra influencing my own. But it had to be there and now that I knew to check perhaps I could unravel it?

Something that did stand out to me now was that I had no idea for how long this genjutsu had been affecting me. The dust was seen as a natural occurrence within Sunagakure, but was that actually the case?

The Hidden Sand shinobi were known for their hiding in the sandstorms, in between dunes in the open desert. Something that required a great familiarity with moving through the dust and sand. Perhaps that much dust within the academy was not something that was always natural?

I clenched my fists and willed the trembling out of my limbs. Had that been killing intent or had I just registered that I might have died just now? I really wasn't enjoying my first genjutsu class. It wasn't even through the first hour!

I stepped into the room to the assessing gaze of many young eyes.

"Hoh? Kaito? Hiro and Mido. Impressive." She tilted her head and her headband glinted in the light. "Find a seat, brats."

"Congratulations for making it to genjutsu class." She swept her eyes around the room. "If you are given an order to appear, you will be there on time."

She turned a thumb towards herself. "As you know, I am Chunin Kurumi. This year I will be your genjutsu teacher. You will refer to me as Kurumi-sensei!"

She quickly wrote this out in the basic language used.

"The class's purpose is not to hold your hand but to let you identify basic genjutsus and how to break them. Deception and misdirection are going to be a fundamental part of genjutsu toolkit. Which you were taught in last year's class of Art of Illusion by me. Today, we will revise all the core fundamentals and you will be tested along the way! Fail... and you will not like the consequences."

Hiro shivered...

"Why do I get the feeling She wants us to fail" Mido whispered to me.

She leaned forward and the desk cracked as she exerted some force. I felt her chakra sweep through the room, pinning everyone. "Is that understood?"

The clan children nodded without care. The genjutsu apparently not affecting them. Around me, other children, the shinobi-born, sat bolt upright. "Yes Sensei!" they chorused. I was among them.

She grunted. "Pathetic," she said derisively. She nodded at the clan children. "Good to see your parents and elders haven't let their standards slip!"

She looked at me and the other children. "Your chakra is your most important tool! Learn to control it better!"

She stood and pounded a fist on the blackboard.

Both glowered at us. She swept her hand out and a kunai buried itself into a student's desk.

"You tell me! Which one is the real me?"

I felt another chakra pulse. I held myself back from leaning forward.
"U-uh?! The one on the right!" shouted the child.

I watched as the sensei clicked her tongue. Her chakra shifted and she threw another kunai? or illusion? This time it was aimed at the desk of a clan child. The kunai was snatched from the air and twirled about idly.
"The one on the left," said the Chika Moudoku with a bored drawl but when kunai shimmered into invisibility even she was surprised.

If I hadn't been able to sense her chakra fluctuating between questioning, I might have also fallen for the trick. She'd swapped places between asking each child. It appeared she was being heavy-handed in favour of the clan kids, and in a way she was, but at the same time she wasn't making it easy by simply allowing someone to reason it out.

It was the different tier taken to another level.

Celestial Grimoire — 300 CP

Pool of Magicka (100) — The Elder Scrolls • Source

The arcane energy known as magicka leaks into Nirn through the Sun and Stars, holes into the divine Realm of Aetherius. And while normally leaving the Aurbis would result in losing access to magicka, that is not the case here. You now have a decently sized pool of magicka that regenerates over time.

Accept?

Not now.

When I returned to the orphanage that night, I opened my celestial grimoire which was pulsing the whole day like I have some kind of notification.

Accept?

Yes

Remaining CP- 200
Magicka settled in my body and celestial grimoire translate it into yin chakra. My yin chakra grew in size upto my yang chakra, which had increased due to chi increase of earthbending. And my overall Chakra grew more balanced. After doing various chakra exercises, I found my chakra control becoming more efficient and more effective. My chakra reserves also grew by margin and my chakra grew... denser was the right word.

The next day in class, we learned to cast illusions now—simple ones, but enough to disorient, to confuse, to create openings in combat. We learned to layer genjutsu, to combine them with taijutsu and ninjutsu, to use them as tools rather than tricks.

I struggled. Genjutsu required a kind of mental flexibility that didn't come naturally to me. My mind was too analytical, too logical, too rooted in material world, my years of memory which told me reality was fixed and nothing could change it. I could recognize an illusion, but creating one required me to think in ways that felt fundamentally wrong.

But by the end of fifth year, I could cast a basic genjutsu—a subtle alteration of perception that made my enemies see me a fraction of a second slower than I actually was. It wasn't much, but it was enough. In combat, a fraction of a second could mean the difference between life and death.

The reconnaissance and tracking classes were a welcome break from the mental strain. We learned to track targets through the desert, to read signs in the sand, to move without leaving traces. We learned to survive in the wilderness, to find water and shelter, to avoid predators and enemies. I was already good at this—my earthbending senses gave me an advantage that no one else in the class possessed. I could feel vibrations through the ground, sense the presence of living creatures by the way they disturbed the earth.

The survival exercise in fifth year was the most brutal yet. We were dropped in the deep desert—not the edge, but the true deep, the part of the Land of Wind that no one ever visited voluntarily. We were given no supplies, no instructions, no support. Just a destination and a deadline. Survive for two weeks. Reach the rendezvous. Don't die.
The task was simple yet I almost didn't make it.

The first week was manageable. I found water, found shelter, found enough food to keep going. My Nutrition perk kept me alive when the others would have starved. My earthbending senses kept me oriented when the sandstorms came.

But the second week was different. I encountered a sandworm—not the giant creatures from the myths, but a smaller variant, still large enough to swallow a man whole. It hunted me for three days, following my tracks through the dunes, waiting for me to rest. I couldn't rest. I couldn't sleep. I could only run. By the time I reached the rendezvous, I was barely conscious. My body was a map of cuts and bruises. My mind was a fog of exhaustion and fear.

By the time I reached, I was almost dead tired on verge of falling. Hara-sensei looked at me with something that might have been respect.

"You need improvement," he said.

I don't have energy to argue or say anything so I merely nodded. But I agree with him I needed to improve. I am 3rd now in many subjects. But I need to beat Katsuro and Gamon.

 

[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.

 

[DivyanshKundu]

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

Click to shrink...

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."

Click to shrink...

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."

Click to shrink...

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

Click to shrink...

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.

Click to shrink...

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.