Three hours later, the three of them were deep into their training, each pushing themselves to their limits—though the intensity varied greatly between them.
Eichi was ranning on his hands across the dorms grounds. His endurance, strength, and control, his core, shoulders, and arms working in perfect to keep him balanced and moving.
Aiko, on the other hand, was tackling the equivalent of the last year of the Uzushio Academy's physical training regimen. Eichi had scaled it back significantly—no chakra-enhanced exercises, no weighted vests, no relentless repetition until failure.
Instead, he had given her the basics: 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 pull-ups, and a 5-kilometer sprint. It was a far cry from what he had endured as a child, but it was still a challenge, especially for someone without the Uzumaki clan's natural stamina or a developed chakra network.
Aiko had managed to complete the first round in an hour. But as she started her second round, her movements began to slow, her muscles trembling with fatigue. She pushed through the push-ups and sit-ups, but by the time she reached the pull-ups, her arms were shaking, and she could barely lift herself halfway.
She dropped to the ground, panting heavily and her face flushed. "I... I can't," she gasped.
Eichi glanced at her, his expression neutral. "You did well. Rest for now. We'll build up to it."
Aiko nodded, too exhausted to argue. She slumped onto the grass, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
Haru, however, was in a league of his own—or rather, several leagues behind.
Eichi had thrown him into a crash course, pushing him to imitate Aiko's routine as closely as possible. But Haru's lack of physical conditioning quickly became obvious. He struggled through the push-ups, his arms trembling after just a few reps.
The sit-ups were slightly better, but by the time he reached the pull-ups, he could barely lift himself off the ground. The 5-kilometer jog was the final nail in the coffin. Haru collapsed after just 30 minutes, his legs giving out as he stumbled to the ground, gasping for air.
"D... Done," Haru wheezed, his face pale and drenched in sweat. "I'm done."
Eichi walked over to him. "You're not done. You're just starting. But you need to pace yourself. Pushing too hard too fast will only get you hurt."
Haru groaned, rolling onto his back and staring up at the sky. "I thought... I thought I was in better shape than this."
Eichi crouched beside him, his tone matter-of-fact. "You're not. But that's why we're here. To fix that. You've got potential, Haru. But potential means nothing putting in the work."
Haru nodded weakly. "Yeah... yeah, I get it. I'll do better next time."
Eichi stood, his gaze shifting to Aiko, who was still catching her breath on the grass. "Both of you did well today. But this is just the beginning. If you want to get stronger, you'll need to push yourselves harder every day. No excuses."
Aiko raised a hand, giving him a thumbs-up despite her exhaustion. "Got it, sensei."
Eichi sighed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "I'm heading back. Rest, then shower. We have class in two hours—don't forget that."Haru groaned again, but there was a faint smile on his face. "Yeah... yeah, that's not a problem."
Without another word, Eichi turned and made his way back to the dorms. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the campus, and the air was still cool.
Pushing open the door, he found two shadow clones sitting on the floor, each are in their respective tasks. One clone was reading through a stack of notes, occasionally writing through the papers on the ground as it practiced the classified 'Uzumaki Sealing'. The other clone was writing explosive tags and storage seals. The air was thick with the faint metallic tang of blood—Eichi's blood—which he had been using as a substitute for chakra ink.
In this world, chakra ink didn't exist—or at least, he hadn't found any yet. Until he could locate someone with a Quirk that allowed them to manipulate ink or create a suitable substitute, he had no choice but to use his own blood. It wasn't ideal, but it worked. The seals were functional, if not as efficient as they could be. And for now, that was enough.
The clone practicing sealing techniques glanced up as Eichi entered, its expression mirroring his own—calm and slightly annoyed. "You're late," it said, its tone dry. "We've been waiting."
Eichi rolled his eyes, stripping off his sweat-soaked training clothes and tossing them into a corner. "I was busy. How's the progress?"
The clone holding the explosive tags held one up for inspection, its crimson markings glinting faintly in the light. "These are ready. Not as powerful as they could be, but they'll do the job. The storage seals are almost done too."
Eichi nodded, stepping into the shower and turning the water on cold. He leaned against the tiled wall, letting the water run over him as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Inventory?" he asked.
The clone didn't miss a beat. "15 tags and 7 seals. That's all I managed to do. We're running low on materials."
Eichi sighed, running a hand through his hair as the water cascaded over him. "Figures. This world doesn't exactly make it easy to stock up on sealing supplies."
"We'll have to improvise. Maybe find a way to synthesize something close to chakra ink. Or..." He trailed off, his thoughts shifting to the possibility of finding someone with a Quirk that could manipulate ink or create a suitable substitute. It was a long shot, but it was worth looking into.
The clone nodded, its expression thoughtful. "We could also try expanding our network. If we can get access to more resources, it'll make things easier."
Eichi grunted in agreement, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. "Easier said than done. But for now, we'll make do with what we've got. Keep working on the seals. I'll go back and bring back the commission while trying to find some info on anyone with a Quirk like that."
"Yup yup," the clones said in unison before dispersing in a puff of smoke, their memories and knowledge flooding back into Eichi.
Another two minutes passed, and another duo of clones popped into existence.
Eichi glanced at them as he finished drying off and pulled on a fresh set of clothes. "Try to figure out the seal pattern of the 63rd kanji. Programming with it is already a pain in the ass without causing an earthquake," he said, his tone dry but with a hint of exasperation.
The 63rd kanji was notoriously unstable, and even the slightest miscalculation could result in catastrophic failure. But if they could crack it, the potential applications were worth the risk.
Four and Six Red Yang Seals, String Light Seals, and others like them were crucial for more advanced techniques. They were the foundation of some of the most powerful and versatile sealing jutsu, and mastering them would give him a significant edge.
The clones nodded, already pulling out scrolls and ink—well, blood—to begin their work. Eichi didn't wait around to watch. He had other things to do.
Looking at the watch he'd purchased to stop relying on his phone, he saw that it was already 7 a.m, that meant he had only two hours before class started.
Slipping away from the academy grounds was second nature to him by now. He moved quickly and quietly, sticking to the shadows and avoiding the few early risers who were already out and about.
The black market wasn't that far for him, but it wasn't exactly a place you could stroll into without drawing attention.
If anyone knew of someone with a Quirk that could manipulate ink or create a suitable substitute for chakra ink, it would be there. And if not, well, he'd just have to keep looking.
The streets were still relatively quiet, the city just beginning to wake up. Eichi kept his head down, his hands tucked into his pockets as he navigated the familiar route.
Pushing open the door, he was greeted by the faint hum of activity. The market was already bustling, vendors setting up their stalls and customers browsing the wares.
It didn't take long to find him. The blacksmith—the man with a Quirk that allowed him to manipulate metal with his bare hands—was at his usual spot, his stall filled with an array of weapons and tools.
"Is it done?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.
The blacksmith looked up, his face breaking into a grin when he recognized the hood on Eichi. "Ah, the quiet one. Yeah, it's done. Took some work, but it's ready." He reached under the counter and pulled out a long, narrow case, setting it down in front of Eichi. "Go on, take a look."
Eichi opened the case, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the contents.
"Good," Eichi said, closing the case and tucking it under his arm. "Here is the other half."
The blacksmith nodded, his grin widening. "Pleasure doing business with you. Let me know if you need anything else."
Eichi didn't respond, already turning to leave. He had what he came for, but he wasn't done yet. He still needed information, and he wasn't about to leave without it.
His next stop was a small, dimly lit stall tucked into a corner.
"I need information," Eichi said, his voice low but firm. "Quirks. Specifically, anyone who can manipulate ink or create something similar."
The vendor's smirk widened, and he straightened up, clearly intrigued. "Ink manipulation, huh? That's a rare one. Not many folks with quirks like that around here. But..." He trailed off, his eyes flicking to Eichi's hands, which were still tucked into his pockets. "It'll cost you."
Eichi didn't flinch. He'd expected as much. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small stack of bills and slid them across the counter. "When."
The vendor chuckled, pocketing the money with a quick, practiced motion. "Come back in about a month. Same time. I'll have something for you."
"A month? That's quite some time."
The vendor shrugged, his smirk never wavering. "Rare info takes time to dig up. You want it fast, it'll cost you double. Or you can wait. Your call."
"A month," Eichi said finally, his tone flat. "Don't be late."
The vendor's grin widened. "Wouldn't dream of it. Pleasure doing business with you again."
Eichi didn't bother with a reply, already turning to leave. He had what he came for—or at least, the promise of it. For now, that would have to be enough. He had other things to do, and time wasn't exactly on his side.
---
The days passed like usual, filled with training and teaching his classmates. Over time, Eichi's presence became impossible to ignore. Every time a simulation exercise came up, his performance made it painfully clear that he didn't belong in Class C. The gap between him and the rest of the class was too big, and it didn't take long for people to start talking.
The reason being is that the classes were rated every semester, and the one who performed the best, whether it being academics or physical, would get their classes changed to the letter of the class they beat in the test.
The reason for the chatter was the class rating system. Every semester, the classes were reevaluated based on performance—both academic and physical. The class that outperformed the others would move up in rank, changing their letter designation to match their new standing. But there was a catch: the entire class had to contribute. It wasn't enough for one person to carry the team. Everyone had to pull their weight.
Eichi, however, was in a league of his own. His skills were on another level, and while his classmates were improving, they couldn't keep up with him. The only one who came close was Aiko, who had been receiving guidance from Eichi himself. Her progress was noticeable, and she was quickly becoming one of the top performers in the class. But even she couldn't bridge the gap between herself and Eichi.
Thus, a month passed in what felt like a flash. Eichi had settled into a routine, training with Haru and Kaina, who had surprisingly become something like friends. They were rarely seen apart, and haru had even joined Kaina's group, much to the dismay of Kenta, who seemed to take it personally.
And Kaina, for her part, was more than happy to have him. She had always been the type to bring people together, and Haru's determination fit right in with her group's dynamic.
"Another fuck-up," Eichi muttered under his breath.
The attention from his classmates was already annoying enough, but now, his reputation had somehow extended to the other classes. And, of course, that meant some self-important asshole from Class A was making a scene, all because of some insecurity issue.
"Another fuck-up..." He glanced to his side and spotted Kenta. "All your fault, though. Deal with it." He patted Kenta's shoulder before walking off.
Turning his gaze toward the commotion, Eichi spotted two guys from Class A yelling at his classmates.
"The fuck are you talking about, you lowly bitch?!" one of them snapped. He had green hair that floated slightly, as if his rage had some gravitational pull.
"What, you scared or sum? The oh-so-mighty Class A has been reduced to a bunch of prideful bastards— all bark and no bite."
The one throwing the insult? Aiko.
Her confidence had skyrocketed over the past month, now teetering dangerously close to pride. It was funny, really. At first, even she seemed surprised by how much she had improved. Her wind Quirk had advanced to the point where she could stir up powerful gusts at will. And, according to Eichi, with enough training, she could probably summon a full-blown tornado.
A blessing, really. Especially considering how badly she performed during the entrance exam. Competition for the lower-ranked robots had been fierce, and the higher-ranked ones? Completely out of her league at the time.
That failure had hit her hard—almost as hard as it had hit Haru. Back in her old school, she was treated like the chosen one, her Quirk celebrated as something extraordinary. Everyone expected her to become a great hero. Reality, however, had been a rude awakening.
Eichi sighed. Not that any of this was his problem. He had tried to hold back, to keep a low profile, but that only made him stand out more. Especially since he was from Class C, one of the lowest-ranked classes.
He turned away, deciding to let Aiko handle it. She had trained hard, after all. Besides, it was her choice to test herself against someone she already knew Eichi could beat without breaking a sweat.
As he strolled down the hallway outside his class, he heard a voice call out.
"Naga, he's walking away."
The speaker was some lackey—a guy with a Quirk that let him produce additional limbs at will, adjusting their strength depending on what body part he used.
At that, the boy named Naga let out a frustrated scoff. "You! Stop! I need to talk to you!"
"Talk?" Eichi echoed, barely sparing him a glance.
Naga smirked. "Yeah. Just a talk. Nothing to worry about."
Eichi raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Without another word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, handed it to Aiko, and kept walking.
Naga's frustration flared. "Come on, really? You're gonna run away like a coward? You've got a girl handling your business now?"
Before he could keep running his mouth, Aiko stepped forward, handing him the paper with a barely contained laugh.
Naga snatched it from her, scowling as he unfolded it.
At first, his eyes skimmed over the heading, but the more he read, the more his expression darkened.
"LITTLE BITCH REPORT FORM - DEPARTMENT OF FUCKING MISERABLE SHITCUNTS"
His grip on the paper tightened.
"Choose from the following reasons why you are a little bitch."
"Do you require medical assistance/tissues?"
"On a scale of 1 to 10—1 being mild anal itching and 10 being crippling agony—how much does your butthurt hurt?"
"Have you ever considered not being a little bitch?"
And then, the final nail in the coffin: a drawing, with a prompt beneath it.
"Please point to where the bad mister touched you."
Aiko barely held back her laughter as Naga's hair practically stood on end.
Eichi? He was gone.
---
Walking through the campus, the school day had already ended, and the crowd had thinned. Eichi was waiting for Kaina.
Over time, he had started interacting with her more. She had helped him out—specifically by shutting down the rumors that he had another Quirk. After all, when that group gathered to gossip about him that day, they hadn't exactly kept their voices down.
And a rumor about a guy having two Quirks? Yeah, forget about staying anonymous. But at least she had redeemed herself.
He exhaled, unfolding another crumpled piece of paper in his hands. "That's the fifth one this week," he muttered. "Guess I'll have to start making more of these."
Annoying bunch, but he had to admit—it was fun. Watching them seethe, their frustration mounting while he barely lifted a finger, made his day a little brighter. If they cried? Even better. He'd drink those tears like fine wine. If they made a scene, screaming about it? He wouldn't just ignore it—he'd relish it, let their anger play in his head like music.
Eichi wasn't without pride, but he was shameless. He was a shinobi, after all. And if there was one type of person he despised, it was people like them—privileged brats, handed everything without lifting a finger. He had enough of their kind back home. Sons of elders, grandsons of council members, and now, here, sons of influential families convinced that all it took to be great was the right genetics and breed like animals.
He folded the paper back up and shoved it into his pocket, rolling his shoulders as he leaned against the campus railing.
The familiar chakra of a certain friend hit his sensing ability—Kaina.
"Let me guess," she said, hands in her jacket pockets as she stopped next to him. "Another dumbass from Class B tried to pick a fight?"
"Not just Class B," Eichi replied. "Some rich brat from A tried too. Same shit, different wrapping."
Kaina let out a low chuckle. "You really know how to get under their skin, huh?"
"It's effortless," he said with a shrug. "They get mad, I get entertained. Fair trade."
She gave him a look, one brow raised. "You're gonna make too many enemies at this rate. Might wanna pace yourself."
Eichi smirked a little. "I can handle it."
She suddently pulled something out of her pocket—a wrapped energy bar—and tossed it at him.
He caught it without looking. "What's this for?"
"For being a pain in everyone's ass. Gotta keep your energy up."
"Thoughtful," he said dryly, peeling the wrapper back.
The papers he distributed to those peoples made a wave on the student community, the sheer insult it was was enough to cement it as a meme in school. And coming from Eichi no less.
Eichi became a kind of an idol, from someone invisible, calm and silent. To someone making headlines in school gossip about how he reeled up those fancy kids.
They walked together through the quiet campus, taking their time heading toward the dorms. The chaos of the day had settled, but the lingering buzz of gossip still trailed after them. Eichi could hear students whispering as they passed, but he ignored it.
Kaina, however, let out a sigh. "You sure you don't care about the rumors?"
"Not my problem."
She clicked her tongue, stuffing her hands deeper into her pockets. "It's hilarious, though. I heard some first-years are even printing copies of your little 'report form' just to mess with people."
Eichi scoffed, taking another bite of the energy bar. "They better not start charging for it. I should get royalties."
Kaina chuckled. "Imagine that. Eichi, the underground black market CEO of DFMS? the great Departement of Fucking Miserable Shitcunts."
He rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in them. "Could be worse."
"Could be better," she countered. "Like, I don't know, not having half the school ready to strangle you?"
"They're not gonna do shit."
"They might," she said, kicking at a loose pebble as they walked. "Not all of them are harmless."
Eichi made a noncommittal noise, unconcerned. "Then they better come prepared."
Kaina gave him a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. "You say that, but I know you're not dumb enough to think you're untouchable."
"I don't think that," he said simply. "I just know how to deal with people like them."
They reached the dorm building. The common area inside was buzzing with activity—students sprawled across couches, some playing video games, others engaged in loud debates over hero rankings.
A few heads turned when Eichi and Kaina walked in, but no one dared to say anything outright.
Kaina exhaled through her nose. "You're getting too famous, man. Pretty soon, you won't be able to take a piss without someone gossiping about it."
Eichi snorted. "They can talk all they want. Doesn't change a thing."
"Mm." She hummed, unconvinced. "Just don't let this turn into something you can't walk away from."
Eichi gave her a lazy wave as he headed toward the hallway leading to his room. "Night, Kaina."
She watched him disappear behind his door before shaking her head with a small smirk. "Menace."
Then, with a stretch, she turned toward her own dorm, ready to finally call it a day.
---
Tonight was the night.
The day before, Eichi had already gathered intel on some guy called "Kraken"—a vigilante operating in Musutafu. His area of work stretched from the city center all the way to the ghettos.
The reports suggested wandering through those areas and hoping to run into him by chance. But Eichi wasn't just anyone. He was a shinobi—tracking wasn't a problem.
Slipping past the academy walls like usual, he moved through the shadows, heading toward the ghetto.
Brings back memories.
His eyes scanned the streets as he walked. This was District 57—the same place where the Kiri-nin had tracked him down. The same place where the heir had been handed off to a green-haired, pregnant woman.
Jumping from building to building, shadow to shadow, Eichi expanded his sensory abilities.
Ever since the ordeal with Kenta in the simulation room, he had started paying closer attention to quirks. Unlike him—a shinobi—quirk users didn't rely on an internal chakra reserve. Instead, they seemed to generate chakra the moment they activated their abilities.
Eichi theorized that, since their bodies didn't require development beyond the specific area affected by their quirk, they relied more on fusing Yin and Yang energy at the moment of use.
That's why quirk users were more prone to physical exertion or headaches rather than chakra exhaustion. Shinobi, on the other hand, needed chakra not just for techniques but also to maintain bodily functions and assist cellular recovery. Without it, survival was impossible.
Of course, this was just a theory. He wasn't a scientist. For now, he focused on tracking any significant chakra surges in the area.
Several hours passed as he checked numerous energy spikes across the city. Most turned out to be heroes, while others were low-tier villains whose petty crimes had gone sideways.
But as he approached a narrow alleyway, he finally spotted his target.
A fight was underway.
One man, dressed in a hoodie and basic jeans, stood out—not because of his clothing, but because of his arms. Or rather, what should have been arms. Instead, long, flexible tentacles extended from his body, splitting apart at will and releasing a thick stream of ink.
His opponent—a man armed with a gun—tried multiple times to fire back, but the ink had already obscured most of his vision. Stumbling, gasping, he barely had time to react before the tentacled man twisted his neck with a sharp snap. The body crumpled to the ground.
Perched high above in the shadows, Eichi raised an eyebrow.
It was rare to see someone kill without hesitation in this world—at least, someone who wasn't already labeled a villain.
But then again, this wasn't a hero. This was a vigilante.
And, honestly? He was probably doing society a bigger favor than the so-called "heroes" ever did.
As the vigilante moved, his tentacles coiled around the corpse, lifting it effortlessly as he prepared to disappear into the night. Efficient. No unnecessary theatrics. Just business.
Then—
"That's a fancy quirk you got there, huh?"
The voice was young, casual—too casual.
The man whipped around, his tentacles tensing, eyes narrowing as they locked onto the speaker. A boy. No older than fifteen, standing at the mouth of the alley like he belonged there, his posture relaxed. Too relaxed.
"Mind your business—"
The words cut short as something clicked in his mind. The kid's expression wasn't one of shock or fear. No flinching. No disgust. Just calm, steady observation, as if this was nothing new to him.
That was unsettling.
The vigilante's grip on the corpse instinctively tightened, his body tensing, ready to react if needed. What kind of kid reacted like that to a murder?
Before the silence could stretch too long, Eichi spoke again, his tone light yet purposeful. "Alright. What about you work with me?"
"You're just a kid," the man finally said, his voice carrying a rough edge. "You should walk away."
Eichi tilted his head slightly. "Says the guy strangling people in alleyways."
The man didn't reply immediately. Instead, he glanced at the corpse in his grasp before sighing. "I don't have time for this." He turned, ready to leave.
"Then make time," Eichi countered smoothly. "I'm offering a deal, not a lecture."
That made the vigilante stop. He shifted slightly, still keeping Eichi in his peripheral vision. "A deal?"
"You work with me," Eichi said simply. "Or at least, we don't work against each other."
The vigilante let out a sharp breath, still skeptical. "And why would I do that?"
"Because I can be useful. And because I know how to find people," Eichi replied, stepping forward.
The vigilante tensed instinctively at the movement, his muscles coiling in warning. But Eichi didn't stop. He closed the distance between them, before crouching down beside the lifeless body at their feet.
His fingers brushed against the corpse's stiffened form, placing a small, unassuming tag onto it.
The vigilante's eyes flickered with suspicion. "What are you—"
Before he could finish, the tag pulsed, and in the span of a single breath, the body crumbled into fine ash, dissolving into the air as though it had never existed.
Eichi straightened, meeting the vigilante's gaze with a knowing smirk.
"—I also make them disappear."
The vigilante took a step back, his breath caught between disbelief and wariness. His eyes flicked to the dissipating remnants of the corpse—just a fine dust settling into the cracks of the pavement. It was efficient. Too efficient.
His fingers twitched at his side. "That's a hell of a trick."
Eichi dusted off his gloves, looking unimpressed. "It's a solution. Something I imagine you don't always have the luxury of."
Silence stretched between them. The air was thick with the lingering scent of burnt something—flesh? Cloth? It was impossible to tell.
"You really expect me to trust you after that?" His voice was even, but his stance betrayed him. He was still on edge.
Eichi exhaled a short, amused breath. "Trust? No. But I do expect you to recognize opportunity when it presents itself."
The vigilante's jaw tightened. He hated to admit it, but Eichi wasn't wrong. Disposing of bodies wasn't easy. And Eichi had done it like it was nothing.
"...What's your angle?" he asked finally.
Eichi smiled, like a man who already knew he'd won. "Let's just say… I prefer working with people who understand discretion."
The vigilante didn't move, didn't speak. But the hesitation was there. And Eichi could see it.
A moment later, the vigilante let out a low breath, his shoulders dropping just enough to signal reluctant acceptance.
"One chance," he muttered. "You screw me over, and I make you disappear."
Eichi's grin widened. "Now that's the spirit."