An Ordinary Day in Class
I was sitting, thoughtfully looking around, and it had already been seven days since I started at the academy. During this time, I realized a lot for myself.
First, I was not the best among the other students. Second, I quickly realized that at least five children in our class came from well-known clans: Hihoki Shimura, Asei Sarutobi, Akimichi Shitoo, Ishin Yamanaka, and Daen Nara. Unlike me, all of them had already undergone clan training. This became evident in the way they could write, count, and possessed greater knowledge about the lessons.
Maybe they didn't train as intensively as I did, but they had access to years of accumulated knowledge and experience from their clans, which undoubtedly gave them a huge advantage. And though I trained diligently, I understood that catching up to them would not be easy.
Making friends, or at least establishing contact with my classmates, was becoming increasingly difficult. The first problem I faced was a simple one: the age difference. The class was filled with children aged 8, and of course, those like me—six-year-olds—were seen as younger, even though the age gap was minimal. In the eyes of the eight-year-olds, I was a child, while they were the "grown-ups." Befriending someone younger seemed strange and inconvenient to them.
The second problem I encountered was the class hierarchy. Clan children, despite their youth, held dominant positions. They were supported by almost all the other students. Those without a clan either tried to please them or became outcasts. Those who did not try to please them simply kept to themselves, forming their own small social circles.
But the biggest reason was myself. As soon as classes ended, I would go home to train.
"Alright, I need to set these thoughts aside. Why do I even need to befriend kids younger than me?" I thought. But I have to admit, the idea of complete isolation didn't sit well with me. Yes, I wasn't ready to be a part of their world, but I also didn't want to be completely alone.
"Maybe I should find someone to train with?" The thought flashed through my mind. Or maybe I should check out the training grounds and look for people training, even if I don't find anyone, I need to find shurikens and kunai that were forgotten or lost—just what I need to continue my training.
Suddenly, the lesson resumed, and the door swung open.
The teacher entered the class, interrupting my train of thought.
"That's what I'll do," was my last thought before I focused on the teacher...
— "That's it for today," he said. "Tomorrow at eight, we meet again."
Placing all my belongings under the desk, I quickly left the classroom.
I headed for the training ground I knew. It was the same training ground where my father used to take me—Training Ground 34, located on the outskirts of the village. Back then, he would carry me in his arms, and we would get there in just a few minutes, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. But now, I had to cover the distance on my own.
Stopping by one of the village's cartography points, I carefully studied the map. It was basic, lacking any strategic details, but it was good enough for navigation.
"I'm here, which means the training ground is over there," I estimated. "Two kilometers..."
Just in case, I decided to check how much money I had. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out about 30 ryo.
"That should be enough if I need it."
I put the money back and started running.
The road wasn't the shortest, but it also wasn't too long. After covering a little more than half the distance, I reached a small river that served as a landmark. I stopped for a moment, looked around, and exhaled.
As I ran further, everything was going according to plan, occasionally checking myself against the route.
A few minutes later, I reached the Inuzuka clan's estate. Honestly, I recognized where they lived not by the signs accompanying the clan's gate, but by the scent—a strong smell of dogs lingering in the air. It was so thick that it felt almost tangible, as if it seeped into every fiber of my being. And more importantly, every tree near the clan's estate was marked. You could see small scratches on the trunks—characteristic marks left by dogs shedding fur or scratching against them.
That's how they marked their territory. Now, imagine a clan with hundreds of dogs. The street they lived on... reeked.
Not the best first impression of Konoha's famous clan.
There were hardly any houses on this street, meaning I didn't encounter many people.
Five more minutes later, I finally reached my destination. Before me lay a vast enclosed area with a sign: "Training Area! Caution!"
Below this sign was a map of the forest, divided into sections forming several training zones.
To find kunai and shurikens, I needed to look for places where they were thrown—mannequins and training posts. So, I headed toward them.
Training Ground 34 looked like an abandoned zone where intense training once took place but was now overgrown with thick vegetation.
Just a year ago, it was well-maintained, but now it seemed as if time had stopped here.
I walked past broken mannequins and battered training posts, with remnants of old targets scattered everywhere.
I desperately searched for anything useful. In some places, the grass was so tall that I had to push through it. I searched among stones and old planks, hoping to find something that could help me train. But time was against me.
The sun was already high in the sky, and all I kept finding were rusted metal scraps—things that might have once been weapons but were now just useless, corroded remains. A few times, I was lucky to stumble upon old kunai and shurikens, but they were in terrible condition—completely rusted, with dents and cracks along the blades. In my hands, they felt almost useless.
With such weapons, I could hardly get any real training done.
All the mannequins were broken, the wooden posts had collapsed, and the air was filled with the smell of old rust and mold. Almost nothing remained of the training equipment—just piles of shattered parts, as if some disaster had swept through here.
I kept searching, feeling exhaustion creeping in. But each time I picked up an object, I felt disappointment—it was just another pathetic pile of rusted metal. Maybe they had been shurikens once, but now they were barely fit for anything other than being thrown away.
An hour passed, and I was beginning to think this was pointless. But as I walked through a pile of debris, tucked away in a corner of the training ground, I finally got lucky—I found something that looked like a shuriken.
It was covered in rust, but it had no cracks or other defects. So, I took it anyway, figuring it would still help improve my training.
After some time, I managed to find a kunai. It was rusted, and the handle had some minor damage, but despite this, its condition was better than most of the other things I found. Deciding that even this could be useful, I took it with me.
Another half hour passed as I searched the entire training ground.
In the end, I only managed to find one shuriken.
In total, I had spent about two and a half hours searching, and the result was rather disappointing. If I had just bought weapons at the store, I would have spent 150 ryo for a shuriken and 200 for a kunai—and they would have been in perfect condition.
Maybe that would have been the smarter choice...
Good thoughts always come too late.
I ran out of the training ground, feeling my empty stomach demand more attention with each passing second.
By the time I reached the main street, the air was filled with different aromas. Somewhere, meat was being grilled, flatbreads were baking, and near the market, I could smell the scent of stewed vegetables and spices.
But I knew where I was going.
At one of the turns, near a small intersection, I spotted a stall that served curry with rice. I had noticed it earlier when I was running to the training ground, and now my legs carried me there on their own.
The stall was simple—a wooden table with a counter and a small umbrella on top. Behind it stood an elderly man wearing a dark apron, his neatly combed gray hair pushed back. In front of him, several pots of curry simmered on the stove, and the aroma was so rich that I could almost taste it without even trying.
"Oh, young man!" the vendor smiled as he noticed me. "You look like you've run across half the village."
"Pretty much," I exhaled, resting my hands on my knees as I caught my breath.
He chuckled.
"Then you need something filling. Want some curry?"
I quickly checked my pockets. 30 ryo.
"How much for a regular portion?"
"15 ryo for the one without meat, 25 with meat."
I hesitated. Getting the meat option would mean spending nearly all my money—what if I needed it for something else?
"I'll take the regular one," I decided.
"Good choice," the vendor said without argument, skillfully scooping a portion of curry and placing it over a mound of white rice.
A minute later, I was holding a steaming wooden bowl in my hands. I took my first bite too quickly and nearly burned my mouth, but it was so delicious that I didn't care.
The thick sauce, rich with spices, soaked into the rice, creating a warm, comforting taste. The spices unfolded with every bite, leaving a slight lingering heat. I even closed my eyes for a moment, savoring it.
"Not bad, huh?" the vendor smiled, watching my reaction.
I nodded, too focused on eating to respond.
When the bowl was empty, I placed it back on the counter and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.
"Thanks, that was great."
"Come by again," he nodded.
Only then did I realize what I had done—I looked down at my hands, now covered in grease and red spices…