Murakami's POV
As I looked at the bundle of 100,000 ryō that sat heavy in my small hand, I felt its weight sinking into it like a solid affirmation of my skills. I turned it over, feeling the crisp texture of the notes between my fingers.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
One week ago, I was still fumbling on adjusting various common seals, storage seals, hoping to make a little extra cash on the side.
Now?
Now, I had merchants throwing money at me for custom work. Murakami, the Genius Seal Master. I liked the sound of that.
Hina whistled from the front. "Still staring at it? You planning to frame the money or spend it?"
I rolled my eyes. "I was thinking of eating it, actually. Heard ink-soaked bills are a delicacy in some parts of the world."
She snorted, going back to sorting the remaining storage seals on display. But my mind wasn't on the money anymore.
No, I was still thinking about the process—the steps, the failures, the near-disasters.
Crafting that custom seal wasn't just difficult, it was like trying to cook a full-course meal with only a dull knife and a single flame.
The merchant wanted something compact, secure, and responsive to a specific chakra signature. Simple in theory. A nightmare in execution.
First, I had to modify a basic locking seal, making it so that it wouldn't just open to anyone pouring chakra into it. That meant tweaking the ink formula and adding a multi-layered structure that recorded and stored a unique chakra print.
Then came the issue of efficiency, the seal had to be small but strong enough to hold its integrity even if someone tampered with it. I tested different variations, adjusting how much ink to use, how much chakra needed to activate it, and how tightly the energy should be sealed.
Halfway through, I nearly fried my own hand because one of my prototypes malfunctioned, overloading the ink and causing a mini explosion.
Lesson learned: Never work on experimental seals while hungry.
But after three days of testing, revising, cursing, and threatening to set my work on fire, I had finally cracked it. A chakra-locking storage seal that only opened for its owner and could not be bypassed by normal means.
When the merchant tested it and called it flawless, I felt every second of effort was worth it.
The Growth of a Genius Seal Master
I wasn't the same Murakami from a week ago. I could feel it.
Before, I had confidence in my abilities, sure. But this? This was proof that I could take a real challenge and turn it into success.
My control over chakra flow through ink had improved. My understanding of seal layering had deepened. I could now visualize formations and their energy flow in my mind before even applying them.
And, most importantly, I was faster.
At the start, one complex seal took me an entire day to get right. Now? I could get the first working prototype in a few hours.
I was becoming sharper, smarter, better.
And even with all this seal work, I didn't slack off on my training.
Morning and evening, without fail, I stuck to my breathing and meditation routines, refining my chakra control which was now better due to my Fuinjutsu practices.
My physical conditioning didn't stop either. Every day, I ran drills with weighted wrist and ankle straps, making sure my speed and strength didn't take a hit from all the time spent hunched over parchment.
And of course, my chakra control exercises were still a daily practice. Precision was key, and if I let that slip, all this sealing work would mean nothing.
As above, so below
As within, so without.
My mind can't grow and leave my body behind.
Balance. That was the trick.
...Though speaking of balance, I may or may not have neglected my academic responsibilities.
The second term had officially started yesterday.
And I? Well... I had been too deep in sealing work to show up. Oops.
Not that I regretted it. Education is important, but money? Money was urgent.
Still, I knew I couldn't dodge it.
Skipping the first day meant I had a whole day's worth of notes to catch up on. Which meant... I'd have to actually attend today despite being already late by a few hours.
The thought pained me.
But such was the cost of being a genius businessman and a student.
I tucked the money into my pouch, making a mental note to split it. Some for supplies, some for future investments, and a small portion for personal indulgence.
Seals weren't going to make themselves, and I had bigger ideas on the horizon.
The merchant's down payment meant more custom orders were coming. Bigger, harder projects.
And if I kept growing at this pace?
Well... let's just say, the Uzumaki clan might want to start paying attention.
That's a thought for the future me, though I've already began birthing the idea. All that's left is to acquire certain knowledge from the academy.
Hina leaned against the counter, smirking. "So, genius, what's next?"
I stretched, grinning lazily. "Next? I make more money."
And with that, I stepped into the bustling streets.
As I strolled toward the academy, I took my sweet time, because let's be real, if I was already late, what was the point of rushing? Might as well make an entrance.
Skipping the first day of the new term wasn't exactly part of my master plan, but sealing work had demanded my attention, and when money speaks, who am I to ignore its call?
Besides, it's not like the academy was going anywhere. It would be right there when I arrived, waiting for me like an overbearing parent with hands on hips.
As I reached the academy gates, I took a deep breath.
I could already hear the chatter of students, the occasional shouts from instructors, and the distinct sound of someone getting thrown into a wall.
Ah yes, the sounds of Shinobi education, or was it education in general?
I casually made my way through the hallways, dodging the occasional teacher with the precision of a trained assassin if I do say so myself.
The trick was to walk just fast enough to look like you were on an important task, but not so fast that it looked like you were avoiding capture.
A few students glanced at me as I passed. Some whispered, some smirked, and a few gave me the "You're so dead" look.
Lovely.
When I finally arrived outside my classroom, I paused. I could hear the instructor's voice inside, and by the tone, it sounded like actual teaching was happening.
Tragic.
I considered my options:
1. Walk in, apologize like a responsible student, and take my seat.
2. Walk in, pretend like I had been there all along, and gaslight reality itself.
3. Walk in, give an overly dramatic excuse, and own the chaos.
Option two it is.
A bold thought, but if executed correctly, I would gaslight reality itself.
With a deep breath, I adjusted my posture, smoothed my expression, and strolled toward class like I owned the building.
The trick to a perfect con?
Confidence.
I slid the door open and walked in mid-lesson, stepping over the threshold with all the casual authority of a daimyo inspecting his lands.
The instructor, mid-sentence, turned to me.
So did the entire class.
I walked straight to my seat like it was the most natural thing in the world. My heart? Calm. My expression? Serene.
I could feel twenty pairs of eyes drilling into me, but I ignored them all.
I sat down, folded my arms, and nodded like I had been there for hours.
I could almost hear the collective confusion.
The instructor narrowed his eyes. "Murakami."
"Yes, Sensei?" I replied smoothly, tilting my head like a perfect student.
"You're late."
I blinked. "Late? No, Sensei. I've been here."
Silence.
I could hear the mental breakdowns happening in real time.
The instructor frowned. "No, you weren't."
I furrowed my brows like I was the one offended here. "Sensei… I was here before you."
Gasps. A few chuckles. Someone muttered, "No way."
I leaned forward slightly. "Sensei, I even greeted you this morning. Are you feeling okay? Maybe you need some rest."
The instructor's eye twitched.
A student in the back whispered, "Wait, was he here?"
Someone else hesitated. "I… I don't remember…"
Good. The seed of doubt had been planted.
The instructor looked stressed. "Murakami, I took roll call. You were not here."
I frowned, deep in fake thought. "Huh. That's weird. I clearly remember being here. Maybe… maybe you just missed my name?"
"No. I was looking directly at the students."
I sighed, shaking my head. "Sensei, if that's the case, then… maybe it's you who was late."
The class erupted.
Someone wheezed. Others were crying from laughter. A guy in the corner fell out of his seat.
Kids, Tch.
The instructor looked like he was reconsidering all his life choices.
His jaw clenched with his temple twitching. He opened his mouth, then closed it again before taking a deep breath.
Finally, in a flat, exhausted voice, he said, "Murakami. Just. Sit. There."
I nodded, satisfied. "Thank you, Sensei. I appreciate your understanding."
And just like that, I won.