The morning air was crisp as he made his way toward the shinobi academy. Konoha's streets were alive with activity—merchants calling out to advertise fresh produce, shinobi leaping across rooftops on early patrol, and civilians bustling about their daily routines.
On the surface, it looked like any other peaceful day. But beneath that normalcy lay a world forever changed from its canon counterpart by the incidents that started to occur more than a decade ago.
He paused slightly in his footsteps as he spotted his friend up ahead. His distinctive bowl-cut hair impossible to mistake.
Normally, Rock Lee carried himself with boisterous energy, eager to proclaim his undying flames of youth to anyone who would listen. Today, however, his posture was tense, his brows furrowed, and his steps noticeably heavier.
"Lee," he called out, catching up to his friend.
"Hey, Ken." Lee replied, as he tried to muster his usual trademark smile but failed to hide the strain around his eyes.
"You look tense." He said, throwing an arm around Lee's shoulder to comfort him. "Don't worry about it. It's just an exam."
"Not just an exam. It's the final exams. What if I don't do well enough?" Lee asked, his voice quieter than usual. "What if I fail?"
"You won't." He assured the boy. "With how hard you train, if even you fail, then I believe that only Neji will be able to pass from our entire batch."
The mention of his rival brought a faint smile on Lee's face. "I guess you're right."
"Of course I'm right. Hey, tell you what. How about we do a bit of revision. The test will have more than just kunai-throwing, after all." He said, more to distract Lee from his downward spiral than anything else.
Lee blinked, surprised, then nodded earnestly. "Yes… yes, that would help."
He smiled and decided to began with the most basic questions first. "Okay. Well, let's start with a simple question. When did the Gates first appear?"
"Twelve years ago," Lee answered quickly, "a few months after the Nine-Tails' attack on Konoha."
"Correct. Where did the first Gate appear?"
"In the Land of Water."
"And its class?"
"S-class," Lee said, his tone going a bit quieter. "The strongest one of its kind ever classified."
"What impact did it have on the Land of Water?"
"The country was destroyed," Lee recited, his earlier nervousness giving way to grim focus. "Entire cities worth of population were swallowed by monsters. Islands sunk into the water. Even the entirety of Kiri couldn't stop their advance for long. In the end, the entire country was destroyed, and survivors scattered across the seas."
He gave a small nod. "And how did that affect the Land of Fire?"
"Refugees poured across borders," Lee said. "Countless civilians… and shinobi. Violence spread, crime rose, and smaller nations grew bold, thinking they could strike while the great powers were distracted."
"And what about Konoha? How did the S-class gate impact our shinobi village?"
Lee's eyes narrowed with concentration. "Kirigakure was wiped out. Those shinobi who lived became scattered. Many were accepted into Konoha, though quite a few others refused. Many went rogue, and even now, the village still has to allocate manpower to hunt them down."
"Good. Next question. How many S-class Gates have appeared since then?"
"None," Lee answered firmly. "Only the first. For twelve years, no other Gate of that scale has opened. Though countless weaker ones have."
By the end of their quick-fire review, Lee's shoulders were straighter, and his usual spark had returned to his eyes. He exhaled deeply, determination rekindled. "Thank you, my friend. My flames of youth shall not dim this day!"
He allowed himself a faint smile. Not really bothered by Lee's strange form of speaking after having spent the past six years as his friend. "Glad to hear it."
Eventually, they arrived at the academy.
It's gates crowded with children their age. Subdued laughter, and nerves filled the air as groups of students hurried inside.
With how strict graduation criteria has become in the past few years, many of the students looked much older. Some ranging from 16-17 years old. He and Lee, being only 13 were the exception nowadays, not the norm.
Apparently, you get a total of 5 tries to pass the exam. That means five more years of preparation. And only if you fail 5 times in a row does the academy actually kick you out.
Of course, he himself meant to pass with flying colours in his first try. And being the second strongest in class, he was fairly confident that he would succeed. But that didn't mean he wasn't nervous either.
In another world, these finals were just another step toward becoming genin. But for them—raised in a world of Gates and monsters—every step forward meant fighting for their survival.
Side by side, he and Rock Lee entered the academy together.
—————
He stepped out of the classroom, the quiet scratching of brushes on paper replaced by the noise of dozens of students spilling into the academy courtyard.
The theoretical exam was finally over. His answers had come to him easily enough—dates, events, and details that he had drilled into his memory over years of study. Still, he could not shake the anxious weight in his stomach.
The final test of the graduation exam was yet to come: the practical test.
He glanced around, hoping to spot Rock Lee, but the crowd offered no sign of him. They had been separated into different batches, so Lee must have been in another group.
His batch, nearly a hundred students, was herded out of the academy grounds and into a wide training field surrounded by wooden walls and observation platforms.
The chatter among the students grew uneasy as they spotted the shapes hidden beneath heavy tarps at the far end of the field. Rows of iron cages stood silently, each draped in rough cloth, but even through the covers came the faint sound of low growls and rattling chains.
He knew what was inside. Everyone did. The academy didn't bother hiding the nature of the practical exam. But knowing didn't make it any easier to face.
"Line up!" the examiner barked. The man's flak jacket was worn, his face alone was covered in three different gruesome scars. A hardened veteran. The chatter died instantly as the children shuffled into straight lines.
With a deliberate motion, the examiner pulled the tarp from the first cage.
Inside, a creature glared back at them with eyes full of feral hatred. It resembled a twisted mockery of a man, its hunched form covered in mottled fur, its limbs corded with wiry muscle.
A wolf's muzzle snapped open to reveal jagged teeth, saliva dripping onto the cage floor. Its claws scraped sparks against the iron bars as it snarled at the rows of academy students.
He stiffened. It looked just like the drawings in their textbooks— but so much worse now that he was seeing it in real life.
An E-class monster. A wolf-human hybrid. The kind collectively called as kobold.
The examiner's voice carried across the training ground. "This is a basic low level monster, taken from an E-class Gate. As genins of Konoha, one of your main tasks would be to clear E-class Gates regularly. And each E-class gate will have dozens, of such creatures." The examiner paused, giving them time to let the words sink in before he continued. "If you cannot defeat even one of these, you have no chance of surviving as a shinobi in the world beyond these walls. Fail to defeat it, and you fail the exam."
A murmur rippled through the line, quickly silenced by the examiner's sharp gaze.
He continued, "You will come forward one at a time. The kobold will be released. You will fight. Two instructors and a medic will observe. If you risk death, the fight will be stopped. And you will be failed. The only way to pass this exam, is by killing the Kobold. Understood?"
The students looked at each other uneasily.
"I said. AM I UNDERSTOOD!?"
"Yes Sir!" The students replied in a chorus.
"Good." The examiner said as he picked up a scroll and opened it.
The first name was called. And the latch holding the cage shut was released.
A boy stepped forward, visibly trembling. The cage door creaked open, and the kobold lunged into the field with a guttural snarl.
The student, despite is nerves and clear inexperience, reacted quickly, flinging kunai and shuriken as he moved back to keep his distance.
The weapons struck home, embedding into the kobold's hide, but the creature only grew angrier. Its muscles bunched, and in the blink of an eye it closed the distance.
The fight devolved into chaos from there. Steel clashed with claws, the boy swinging wildly, the kobold slashing with murderous intent. Blood sprayed, staining the dirt as both scored hits on the other. The student's breathing turned ragged, his guard faltering under the monster's relentless assault.
At the last moment, the examiner flashed forward, driving the kobold to the ground with practiced ease. He bound its limbs with wire, yanked the boy's bloodied kunai from its chest, and threw the snarling creature back into its cage.
When he looked back, the healer was already at the student's side, chakra glowing faintly as wounds began to close. The boy looked pale, his eyes wide open in terror.
His gaze then went back to the cage, his eyes narrowing at the sight. The kobold's wounds were already knitting closed, its breath steadying.
Not every monster could heal, but some possessed that rare ability. Of course the academy would use such creatures. Self-healing monsters could be dragged out again and again to fight terrified students.
"Failed," the examiner announced flatly. His tone held no sympathy, only cold finality. "Better luck next time kid."
The boy was carried away, still dazed, as the examiner's eyes swept over the remaining students.
"Next!"
—————
Most of the students failed. A few passed. But as he watched, he began to notice a pattern.
Those who succeeded more often than not looked older—at least fifteen, sometimes sixteen. Their bodies were stronger, their chakra more refined. For the younger ones, victory came down to luck and desperation, more than their actual skills.
Then came Hyūga Neji's turn.
Unlike the others, Neji showed no sign of fear as he stepped. His pale eyes held no hesitation, only calm confidence as he stepped into the ring. The cage door creaked open, and the kobold charged forward with its usual frenzy.
Neji did not flinch. He moved with elegance, his footwork light, his body flowing like water. The kobold slashed and snapped at him, but Neji weaved past every strike with effortless precision, as though all the creature's movements had already been seen through before the fight even began.
Then, with a single step forward, he struck. A chakra-laced palm shot out and landed squarely against the monster's chest—exactly where he thought its heart would be.
The kobold froze, then convulsed. Blood poured from its mouth in rivulets as its body crumpled to the ground. For all its self-healing ability, a destroyed heart seemed to be beyond recovery. Within seconds, it was dead.
Silence fell over the training ground. Dozens of students stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Neji's expression remained neutral, but he thought—just for an instant—that he caught the barest flicker of a smile. And then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask of composure once more.
That was… truly impressive.
For all his pride in being the second-ranked student in their class, he knew there was a vast gulf between himself and Neji. There was a very good reason why the Hyūga prodigy was called a genius, and he was not.
He used to scoff at the title in his past life, dismissing it by pointing out that Neji only reached jōnin at sixteen, while true prodigies like Itachi and Kakashi had earned the rank at twelve. But that comparison did not diminish what he had just seen.
Neji was truly in a league of his own. And that made him feel small in a way that he didn't like at all.
"Passed," the examiner said flatly, kicking the kobold's corpse aside with the casualness of a man discarding trash. Without pause, he scribbled in his notepad, brought out anther cage with a fresh monster and called the next student forward.
One by one, the line dwindled. A dozen more entered the ring. Most failed. A few scraped by.
Then it was his turn.
He stepped forward, heart pounding, forcing deep breaths to steady himself. His palms itched with sweat, but he clenched them tight and faced the cage. The door creaked open, and the kobold lunged at him instantly.
He moved without hesitation.
The monster was stronger and faster than an average genin, but it was not intelligent. That was its weakness.
With a puff of smoke, he split into multiple clones. The kobold barreled through them, shredding illusions apart with a howl. At the same time as the monster was attacking his illusion clones, he transformed, his features twisting until his body mirrored the snarling form of the kobold itself.
The creature turned to face him after dealing with his clones, and froze, blinking in confusion as it looked at him. For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered in its eyes—friend or foe? Enemy or packmate?
That hesitation was all he needed.
His blade flashed. The kobold's throat opened in a red spray before it could react, its body collapsing in a twitching heap.
He had won.
The entire fight had lasted no more than ten seconds.
He had passed. Easily. Yet as he stood over the monster's corpse, he couldn't help but feel hollow. His clever use of jutsu had carried him through, yes—but compared to Neji's single, devastating strike, his own victory felt cheap. Severely lacking.
"Passed." The examiner grunted, and at that moment, his eyes flew wide open in shock and jubilation.
Not because of anything the examiner said. But because of the blue panel that suddenly appeared in front of his eyes.
1 Kobold killed!
You've gained 8 experience points!
Level 0 (Next level up: 8/100)
Finally, after 13 years of living in this world, he finally got his system.
It seems his future wouldn't be so bleak after all.
Once back in his small apartment, he shut the door behind him and sat down heavily on the floor. The blue panel still hovered faintly in the corner of his vision, waiting.
He started to look more deeply into the system. To understand what it does.
"Status?" He called out, but nothing happened.
"Inventory?" Nothing.
"Observe." Nothing.
He tried many key words but the system didn't give him any reply.
Eventually, he cursed to himself. "Fuck. I don't even know the name of my own system."
As if understanding his frustration, the blue panel immediately changed. Excited, he looked at the new panel, only for his excitement to die down the very next instant. Because there was only a single line on it.
Ideal Growth System
What's that supposed to mean?
He had never read a webnovel or fan fiction with that kind of name before. Ideal Growth. Did it mean the best kind of growth, or did it mean lazy. No, Idle meant lazy. The meaning of Ideal should be perfect. So… perfect growth system…?
"Hey, System? Can you elaborate on what you can do?" He asked, and wasn't really surprised when he got no answer from it.
He'd realised by now that his system wasn't the smartest cookie in the jar. Which was a bit disappointing. But having a stupid system was better than having no system at all.
It still didn't explain why he'd never learned about his system before today. His mind drifted back to the fight. And he quickly realised that the only reason the system had revealed itself was because of that kobold's death. Because of which the system had granted him experience points.
That had to be the key.
He also realised that in past thirteen years of his life, he had never really killed anything before. Well… aside from a few bugs and what not. If he had, perhaps he would've discovered the system much earlier.
He was annoyed at himself for this. But it's not like he could go back in time and change the past. The only think he could do now is move forward with better choices.
Determined to test his system and take full advantage of it, he decided to go on a killing spree.
He began small.
He swatted a fly. Nothing.
He crushed a cockroach in the corner of his room. Still nothing.
His brow furrowed. But he wasn't surprised. If crushing bugs gave experience points, then he would've learned about his system's existence a long time ago.
He left the apartment and wandered into the alleys behind the market, where a rat darted across his path. A quick strike with his kunai ended its life, but again—no panel, no message, no points.
Hours slipped by as his experiments grew more elaborate. He caught a fish from the river and slit it open. He hunted down a pigeon resting on the rooftops. Later, he managed to snare a rabbit in the woods beyond the village. Each time, he watched closely for that faint blue glow.
Nothing.
At least the meat wouldn't go to waste, he consoled himself as he cleaned and stored it in his fridge. But the truth gnawed at him. None of it had counted. None of it had given him even a single point of experience.
The disappointment was sharp, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. There was still one gamble left. One dangerous, reckless, perhaps even suicidal gamble.
He pulled on his sandals, tightened his kunai pouch, and set off.
His destination: Training Ground 44.
The Forest of Death.
—————
Not to toot his own horn, but he wasn't weak. No, he couldn't be compared to a genius like Neji—but then, few could. He had still worked relentlessly to reach this level of strength, and it showed in the exam.
His performance might not have dazzled like Neji's had, but he had still managed to kill the beast in under ten seconds without taking a single injury.
That was why he felt confident about surviving a trip to the Forest of Death.
From what he knew, the forest had been created by the village's founder, Hashirama Senju, back when he was still experimenting with Sage Mode. His control back then hadn't been perfect, which was why the forest had grown so strange and sinister.
The nature chakra there was thick, but warped—corrupted. That corruption had given rise to twisted lifeforms. Trees with bark that looked more like scales than wood. Vines that pulsed faintly, like veins carrying blood. Flowers that reeked of rot but glimmered with colors too vivid to be natural. And everywhere, insects the size of a fist buzzed in swarms, their wings producing a low, constant drone that made the skin crawl.
The deeper one went, the worse it became. Shadows stretched too long beneath the canopy, roots shifted underfoot like restless serpents, and the air carried a constant pressure of predatory intent. It wasn't just a forest—it was a place that wanted you dead.
He was a newly minted genin, yes. But he was far better than most of his peers, and that confidence pushed him forward despite the risk.
It didn't take long for his first adversary to find him. Branches cracked like thunder, and a massive boar burst through the underbrush.
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It was grotesque—its body swollen and corded with muscle, patches of stone-like growths jutting from its hide, eyes glowing faintly red. Each snort was a hot gust of foul-smelling air, and its tusks were as long as spears.
The ground trembled as the beast thundered toward him. Roots splintered beneath its hooves, earth sprayed up in clumps, and the sheer weight of it sent shockwaves through the twisted forest floor.
He darted to the side, chakra surging into his legs, and rolled just as a tusk swept past him. The strike smashed into a tree trunk behind him with a boom, splintering the massive thing into chunks of wood that rained down around them.
Landing lightly, he spun his kunai into a reverse grip and launched forward. He slashed at its flank, the blade biting deep enough to draw a gush of hot, steaming blood. The forest floor hissed where the blood touched it, carrying the faint stench of iron mixed with something acrid.
The boar shrieked, and spun far faster than something that size should. Its tusk scythed across the air, forcing him to leap backward or risk being gored. Bark and moss shredded where the tusk grazed past.
He landed on the thick root of a gnarled tree, crouched, then pushed off with chakra-enhanced force. He flew forward, and landed squarely on the beast's broad back. The boar bellowed in rage, thrashing violently, crashing into trees in an effort to shake him loose.
He dug his knees into its hide, clung tight, and drove his kunai down at the base of its neck. The blade sank in, but only shallowly—its skin was tough. Gritting his teeth, he poured chakra into the weapon, reinforcing the edge, and forced it deeper inch by inch.
The boar went berserk, ramming itself against trees. His grip almost slipped when a tusk tore through a boulder, sending shards flying past his face. A scrape of stone cut his cheek, warm blood dripping down—but he didn't let go.
"Fall," he hissed under his breath.
He twisted the blade, angling it into the thick cord of muscle along its neck, and shoved with everything he had.
He must've cut something vital because the next thing he knew, blood gushed out of the wound in a spray, showering him with red. The beast roared one last time, a bone-shaking sound that made birds erupt into the sky, and its legs buckled.
With a ground-shaking crash, the massive boar collapsed onto its side. Its eyes dimmed, its breaths slowed… then, eventually, stopped.
The forest grew quiet again—save for the buzzing of insects, and the thrum of his own racing heartbeat.
He let out a sigh of relief.
Compared to the Kobold he had faced in the exam, the boar was neither as fast nor as durable. But it had been strong enough to remind him that this forest was no place for the weak.
And with its death, the system stirred once more.
1 chakra mutated boar killed!
You've gained 4 experience points!
Level 0 (Next level up: 12/100)
A grin spread across his face. Finally. It had worked.
He tightened his grip on the kunai, glancing at the dark, oppressive, forest around him.
And he pressed on.
—————
The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and the Forest of Death was bathed in a suffocating twilight.
He sat slumped atop the massive corpse of a bear-like beast, chest heaving as his system panel flickered before him.
1 chakra mutated bear killed!
You've gained 5 experience points!
Level 0 (Next level up: 43/100)
His entire body screamed with exhaustion. He was drenched in sweat and blood—most of it not his own—but the shallow cuts crisscrossing his skin stung with every movement.
Almost all of his kunai were broken or dulled, his shuriken pouch nearly empty. And he wasn't even halfway to Level 1.
A guttural growl rolled through the darkness. His head snapped up.
From between the trees, another bear emerged. It was larger, and more monstrous than the one beneath him. Its eyes glowed faintly red, saliva dripping from fanged jaws. The ground shook with each step it took toward him.
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His smile faded. This wasn't good.
The beast charged, faster than something that massive had any right to be.
Even in his prime, this would've been a deadly fight. But now, chakra reserves nearly spent, weapons dulled or broken, and his body screaming in protest, he knew he couldn't win.
He forced his trembling fingers into a seal. A puff of smoke—his illusion clone appeared, leaping in the opposite direction. The beast tore into it instantly, scattering chakra smoke. That was his chance. He turned and ran, sprinting through roots as thick as his waist and ducking under branches that clawed like skeletal hands.
But the beast was relentless. It ripped through obstacles as if they were nothing, closing the distance with terrifying speed. His breath came ragged, panic clawing at the edges of his mind. For the first time that day, true fear jolted through him.
There was no escaping this. He could either die running or he could stand his ground and fight.
He was just about to whirl around and make a desperate final stand when—
Fwish!
A single kunai streaked through the air, glowing faintly with chakra. It buried itself cleanly into the bear's skull. The beast collapsed mid-charge with a resounding boom, the ground trembling from the impact.
Before he could even process it, a boot slammed into his ribs and sent him sprawling. Pain flared as he hit the dirt. Groaning, he clutched his side and looked up—
And froze.
A woman stood over him in fishnet and trench coat, a sadistic smirk curling her lips. Purple hair, and short skirt. He recognised instantly.
Mitarashi Anko.
Spoiler: Anko
She didn't look amused.
Her foot pressed harder into his side. "Care to explain why a fresh brat is slaughtering my animals?"
He coughed from the pain. "Y-your animals?"
She raised a single eyebrow. "This training ground falls under my jurisdiction so yes, they're mine for all intent and purposes. So… wanna explain yourself brat? Do you even have the permission to be here?"
It clicked instantly—these chakra-mutated beasts were important for Konoha's Chunin Exams. Of course someone oversaw them. And of course, it just had to be her.
"P–permission?" he managed weakly.
Anko's brow twitched. "You didn't even know you needed one?" Her voice dripped with incredulity. "Where's your forehead protector, brat? Who let you in here?"
Heat rushed to his cheeks despite the cold. "…I, uh, just graduated today. I'll… get it tomorrow."
For a moment, she just stared at him. Then she sighed, annoyed more than anything else.
"Idiot."
Another sharp kick knocked the wind out of him. Before he could catch his breath, she grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up like a sack of rice. With effortless strength, she flung him into a nearby pond.
The freezing water swallowed him whole. He surfaced spluttering, blood and grime washing off in dark clouds. He tried to speak, but another sharp tug yanked him out by the scruff.
"Good enough." She said as she carried him out of the Forest of Death and tossed him onto the muddy ground outside the forest walls like trash, brushing her hands clean. "Next time I catch you in there, brat, I won't be so nice."
With that, she turned and left, vanishing into the dark, twisted forest.
Wet. Cold. Injured. Nearly chakra-dry. He lay there on the dirt, staring up at the stars. Then a laugh bubbled up from his chest despite the pain.
He opened his system and saw the numbers once again. His entire day of hard work.
43/100
Worth it.
Now, he just has to collect 57 more points and reach Level 1 to see what the system actually did.
A pity that he can't go back to the forest of death for more experience points. He doubted Anko would be nearly as forgiving the next time she caught him.
Next morning, he returned to the Academy, the exhaustion of yesterday hidden under a calm mask. He sat down beside Rock Lee, who was practically buzzing with energy now that the exam was over.
"Hey, Lee. How was your practical exam yesterday?" He asked with a smile as he relaxed back into his seat.
Lee grinned at him. "I faced a hundred-eyed spider yesterday!" He said, and paused as a small shudder went through him, his face going a bit green at the memory "It was fast, and venomous. Its eyes could track me easily despite my speed. But with the flames of youth, I defeated it within a minute!"
"Oh, that's pretty impressive. Congratulations Lee." He said, giving his friend a genuine smile for once instead of a somewhat forced smile that he's always forced to display.
Despite being friends for so long, he had always felt a slight discomfort around Lee. Because he knew that for all his hard work, his talent was average. And while he worked extremely hard, he wasn't a madman like Lee either, who could train to the point of dropping down from exhaustion for years on end.
This meant that for all intents and purposes, his future was going to be limited. He would be a Jounin at best. And if he got lucky, then an Elite Jounin. But it was unlikely that he would rise higher.
The only civilians in Konoha who ever reached S-class were monsterous geniuses like Minato Namikaze and Orochimaru who were on a league of their own from the very beginning. He knew this. And he wasn't delusional enough to believe that he was anywhere near their level.
He also knew Lee's future, where, under Might Guy's mentorship, Lee would rise to the sky like a comet. Becoming strong enough in a year to kick the ass of a monster like Gaara. Someone who could crush the current him like a bug.
Would they still remain friend at that point? Knowing Lee's nature, Lee wouldn't look down on him due to his own rising status. But him… how would he feel clinging to a friendship with someone so much higher in the totem pole than him.
How would he feel when someone whom he constantly used to defeat while in the academy, ends up becoming so much stronger than him?
Suffice to say, that thought had always been a crack in the friendship between him and Lee. But now… that crack has mended. Because with the aid of a system, he was confident that he would be able to rise up to S-class and even further beyond in due time.
Now, he was not afraid of falling behind. And could truly consider Rock Lee his true friend.
That was perhaps the best gift the System had given him even if did not know what the system itself did yet.
It had given him confidence in regards to his future.
He and Lee continued talking, with him now telling Lee about his own battle, and that of Neji's, and for once, his enthusiasm matched that of Rock Lee. His smile truly and completely unburdened, without the shadow of Lee's future overshadowing his own.
The morning dragged on as they waited for the arrival of their class teacher, and the results of the exam.
Everyone knew it was a formality. If someone had managed to pass the practical monster exam, then unless they were completely dumb, they were all but guaranteed to pass the finals overall.
Eventually, the teacher entered the class, a clipboard in hand. The room quieted immediately. The teacher cleared his throat and after a bit of motivational talk for those who failed, he began reading out the names of those that passed as well as their team assignments.
"Team 3. Rock Lee, Tenten, Hyuuga Neji. Jōnin-sensei: Might Guy."
Lee nearly vibrated out of his seat at the announcement, his eyes sparkling.
The boy probably did not know it yet. But getting Might Guy as his teacher would be the best thing that even happened to him.
The teacher's voice carried on. "Team 4. Genin: …Sensei: Mei Terumi."
That name made him paise. Mei Terumi? He knew that the S-class Gate had wiped out Kiri, leading to many of their clans and shinobi joining Konoha as refugees. But he hadn't know that Mei Terumi was among them.
After all, had the arrival of the gates not fucked up the canon timeline so badly, she would currently be serving as the Fifth Mizukage of Kiri.
Well, good for Konoha, he supposed. They could always use more S-class shinobi.
Then the teacher continued.
"Team 5…"
"Team 6…"
"Team 7. Yoshiro Renji, Inuzuka Saori. And Ken." He sat straighter, holding his breath as the teacher continued. "Jōnin-sensei: Hatake Kakashi."
The words landed like stones in his gut. A cold, heavy pit settled in his stomach. Of course it would be fucking Kakashi.
He rubbed his face and let out a sigh, already knowing what the outcome of this was going to be.
After all, Kakashi currently only had eyes for Naruto and Sasuke. So, even if he and his teammates turned out to be the most talented student of their generation (which they weren't), Kakashi would still fail them.
And that meant his own future had already been decided.
Well… he supposed that the only thing he could do now was to give it his best.
—————
Next day.
Dirt filled his mouth. His body ached. One of his teammates was tied to a log beside him, beaten down and humiliated. A few scraps of food lay discarded nearby.
And there was Kakashi, calm and unreadable, seated cross-legged with his little orange book resting in hand. The two bells dangled loosely from his fingers as his verdict fell like a hammer.
"You fail." Kakashi said indifferently. "Next time your superior gives you an order, maybe you should follow it instead of thinking that you know better. Not only are you three weak, but you're also incapable of following orders. There's no hope for you."
The words stung more than the bruises across his body. But what hurt more was the hateful looks his teammates gave him. Because he had tried to feed his teammate after they'd failed the exam.
This was how Jiraiya and his team had passed the exam. This was how Naruto and his team had passed the exam.
Yet now, here was Kakashi, failing them precisely because they hadn't followed orders.
Because apparently, putting comrades before the mission, and valuing bonds over protocol was only something that mattered if you were important. Otherwise, you needed to follow the orders precisely.
He clenched his fists in the dirt, bitterness bubbling in his chest.
What a bloody hypocrite.
"Next. You have two options." Kakashi said as he stood up, giving them an indifference glance. "You can either rejoin the academy, hoping to get a Jounin Sensei next year. Or, you can go and join the Genin Corps. Good luck."
With that, Kakashi left in a sunshin and his teammates continued to glare at him. Blaming him for their failure even if he had all but carried the team through the entire exam.
Man… this sucked so much.
—————
In the end, despite the hypocrisy of the village's higher-ups, he wasn't really surprised that he had failed the exam. Disappointed, yes—but not surprised. He had hoped for a jōnin-sensei, of course. Everyone did. But failing to receive one was hardly shocking.
Every year, the Academy churned out more than a thousand graduates, and out of them, perhaps one percent were fortunate enough to be taken under the wing of a jōnin. The remaining ninety-nine percent were quietly shuffled off to the Genin Corps.
It was practical, really. There were too many genin and far too few jōnin in the village. And among those Jounins, many were busy performing critical missions for the village, or were too high in status (clan jounins) to be forced by the Hokage to take in students.
And if he was honest with himself, most of those rookies weren't worth the investment anyway. The average genin simply wasn't talented enough for the village to spare such resources on them.
Besides, jōnin were people too. They had clawed their way up through blood, and sweat. If they didn't want to teach, why should they be forced to?
He certainly wouldn't want the village to force him to teach three strangers in case he lived long enough to get promoted to a Jounin-rank himself.
All of that he understood. All of it made sense.
But understanding didn't make the rejection sting any less. Especially not when it had been delivered in such a hypocritical manner.
Perhaps, if his system hadn't awakened, he might have chosen to re-enroll in the Academy and try again next year, clinging to the slim chance of getting a jōnin-sensei.
After all, with the advent of the Gates, the world has become far more dangerous than it was in the canon timeline. Having a Jounin-Sensei's guidance and support could mean the difference between life and death out there.
But now… things were different.
His system changed everything. And it required experience points to function, and the only way to gather those was by killing—preferably those that lurked inside the Gates.
And no sensei could give him that. No team could replace that.
Which was why, only an hour after his official "failure", he found himself standing in front of the squat, unremarkable building where many of the recently graduated Genins gathered. The place most genins dreaded, the place many careers went to die.
The Genin corp building.
But for him, it would only be the beginning. He promised himself that.
—————
He entered the Genin Corps building and was greeted by the sight of a line of genins that stretched through the entire hallway like a snake. A hundred or more fresh graduates stood waiting, faces ranging from nervous to sullen. The atmosphere was heavy, nothing like the bright chatter of Academy mornings.
His eyes swept across the line and, inevitably, landed on two familiar faces—his teammates. They spotted him too. Their expressions hardened, and both glared at him with thinly veiled hostility.
He sighed quietly and looked away. There was no point in trying to talk to them anymore. If they still insisted on blaming him for their collective failure under Kakashi, then nothing he could say would change their minds.
The line dragged on.
Two hours later, he finally entered the registration room, only to find the interior as drab and lifeless as its exterior. Rows of desks, stacks of parchment, clerks scribbling down notes—it felt less like the headquarters of a military unit and more like the dull office of some merchant guild.
When his turn came, a bored pencil pusher barely glanced up at him. The man noted his name, age, height, weight, test results and a dozen other things before rummaging through a drawer.
A moment later, he slapped a fresh forehead protector on the desk and pushed it toward him. "Next," the man droned, already calling for the genin behind him. Alongside the protector, he handed over a tightly sealed parchment. His assignment.
He stepped out of the line and held the forehead protector for a long moment. This was what he'd been striving for for the last 6 years in the academy. But now that he'd finally gained it… it didn't make him feel anything.
He mentally, sarcastically congratulated himself for finally becoming a child soldier, tucked both items away and followed the directions on the parchment, heading toward the rear of the Hokage Mountain. That was where the Third Battalion of the Genin Corps was stationed.
What he found there didn't resemble the anime's "genin life" at all. No lazy team bonding. No whimsical training arcs.
Instead, dozens of long, squat buildings stood in uniform rows, smoke rising from their chimneys. Training fields stretched between them—packed earth, obstacle courses, sparring rings—everything rigid and utilitarian. The air reeked of sweat, steel, and discipline.
It was a soldier's camp. Purely military, stripped of all romance or sentiment that they usually got to see in anime.
None of that 'dattebayo' freestyle shit from canon storyline.
He knew without anyone telling him that if any of the Genins here defected from the village, they would get an immediate execution order. No second chances like the one Sasuke had received.
He made his way to the gate and handed the parchment to the guard. After a curt inspection, he was directed toward the command building where his assigned officer resided.
The veteran chūnin who would now be responsible for him, and a hundred other genins, didn't look anything like the jōnin sensei he'd secretly hoped for.
The man was scarred, missing a leg, and hunched slightly as if the weight of his years pressed down on him. A Nara, if the pineapple hairstyle was anything to go by. Despite his disability, his eyes were sharp. His voice was calm, and surprisingly gentle for someone who had clearly lived through hell.
After the briefest of introductions, the chūnin explained the reality of the Corps.
"First-year genin are kept to low-risk missions," the man said evenly, folding his hands on the desk. "Errands, guard duty, patrols around the village perimeter, basic bandit extermination, so on and so forth. It gives you time to train under other veteran genins and toughen up before the real work begins. Because From the second year onward, you'll be eligible for Gate expeditions."
He listened in silence, but felt impatience gnaw at him. A year? He didn't have that kind of time. Not with the system in his grasp.
He needed to get the experience points required to reach Level 1 as soon as possible. If only to get an understanding of what his system actually did. In that regard, every day wasted was a day his growth stalled.
So he raised his head and spoke up. "Sir, I'd like to join a team that's already handling Gates."
The chūnin's eyes narrowed and he sat up straight in his chair. For the first time, the soft voice carried weight. "Are you sure, genin?"
He nodded without hesitation.
The silence stretched for several long seconds. The officer studied him carefully, as though weighing his words against the memories of his dead comrades. Finally, he exhaled through his nose.
"If you weren't second in your class, and had such high scores I wouldn't even consider this," the man admitted. "Frankly, most first-years wouldn't last a minute inside a Gate. But… your record speaks for itself."
Reaching for another sheet of parchment, the chūnin scrawled something quickly and stamped it with his seal.
"There's a team of five veteran genin," he said, sliding the paper across the desk. "They've cleared many Gates over the years and have survived with the fewest injuries. You'll join them, learn from them if you can, and hopefully, survive long enough to make something of yourself. Keep your head down, and don't get cocky. Understood."
"Yes, sir."
The man leaned back, regarding him one last time.
"Good luck, kid. You'll need it."
He met the team of veteran genins in one of the more battered training grounds behind the Genin Corps barracks.
The field looked like it had seen years of use: scorched earth from fire techniques, gouges from weapon training, and splintered wooden dummies scattered around.
They were already gathered around a campfire and eating lunch when he arrived. There were five of them, sitting in a loose semicircle.
Compared to the fresh-faced academy brats he'd left behind, these people looked like real soldiers. They carried themselves differently, with the quiet confidence of people who had already survived too many battles.
The first thing he noticed was the difference in age. Most of them looked late teens to early twenties, with the exception of their leader. He looked to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, lines etched into his face, his eyes sharp and weary at the same time.
They noticed his arrival and turned to gaze in his direction. Some looked confused while others looked irritated at his intrusion.
One of them stood up with a dark scowl and walked over to him. "Hey, brat. You lost?"
He made an effort to hide his nerves and put on a calm facade as he spoke up. "I was assigned to your team by the Chunin in charge," He explained, keeping his tone level.
His words made the scowl in the genin's face turn even darker. "What… would repeat that again brat? Because I'm sure I heard you wrong."
"You didn't hear me wrong. I've been assigned to your team."
The scowling genin stared at him for a long while before he let out a chuckle and turned to look at the rest of his team. "Hey. Would you look at this Hoshigawa Senpai. That Nara bastard has dumped a fresh brat on us to babysit!"
A kind looking woman, who was also the sole female in the team, frowned at the scowling genin and shook her head. "You're being rude, Haruto."
"Rude?" The scowling genin, whose name he now knew to be Haruto looked baffled. "We especially told that bastard to not send us any fresh meat. Don't you remember, Aya? And what does he do? Exactly that! And I'm the one being rude?"
"That 'bastard' is our superior whether you like it or not, Haruto." The woman, Aya, said in a clipped tone, "If you don't like following his orders, then you should've taken the promotion when you were offered one."
Haruto looked tongue tied at her words before he turned to the oldest man in the group. "Senpai! Say something."
The man in his 30s turned his gaze toward him for a moment, and he felt like he was being looked at by a predator. By someone who could kill him with ease. Cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck before the older man looked away and the feeling was gone.
"Orders or orders. Not following order is treason." The older man said, and that seemed to take all the wind out of Haruto's sail.
Haruto looked at the two other teammates for support but they didn't say anything either, and Haruto simply deflated.
Then, Haruto turned to look at him, the scowl ever-present on his face, and spoke up. "Very well brat. You can join our team. Be sure to not drag us down with you."
With those words, Haruto stomped out of the clearing in anger.
The four remaining genins exchanged a look with one another before one of the more mature looking one got up. "I'll go talk to him."
Aya meanwhile gave him a sad smile. "Don't feel bad about Haruto. He's… complicated. But I promise he means well."
"Yeah. He was just as much of a dick to me when I first joined the team." The youngest of them spoke up with a chuckle. The guy looked to be in his late teens, so still more than a few years his elder. "Come, sit with us rookie. Boss' fried fish are pretty tasty."
He nodded and went to sit with them. The team leader then turned his hardened gaze toward him once again. "Introduce yourself."
He nodded and gaze a shallow bow. "My name is Ken. I'm an orphan. I graduated as the second in Class A. My goal is to become a Jounin."
He didn't let his real goal slip. S-class and beyond. No point in telling them something they'd laugh at.
They didn't say anything to his introduction. He got the feeling that they weren't very impressed, but at least they were listening.
A moment later, the other guy dragged Haruto back over to them, and soon after, introductions followed.
Haruto went first "Name's Haruto. Completed 61 E-class gates." He said it with pride, his chest puffed out like he expected applause.
And truthfully, if the gates were half as dangerous as he suspected, then it was indeed an impressive feat.
The second one looked older than Haruto but carried himself with much less bluster. He had sharp features, short-cropped black hair, and an aura of discipline that reminded me of an ANBU I'd once seen. "Kazuki," he said simply. "83 E-class." A pause. "2 D-class." And that was it for his introduction
Next was Aya. She was striking—not beautiful in a glamorous way, but with a warm smile and bright eyes that softened the edges of the hard world they lived in. Her presence alone seemed to lighten the heavy atmosphere in the clearing.
If Rin Nohara had been anything like her, then he could understand why Obito fell hopelessly in love in world.
She introduced herself cheerfully, a stark contrast to the grimness of the others. "I'm Aya. The medic-in of the team." She gestured to the leader with a grin. "This big grouch here is my husband." Her eyes landed on him kindly. "Don't worry too much. We'll take care of you. Just make sure you listen to orders and come to me if you get hurt, alright?"
Her warmth caught him off guard, but he bowed slightly. "Understood, Aya Senpai."
The fourth, who was the youngest, went next. He had pale skin, sharp features, and water-like hair. "Shin Hozuki," he said, his voice was passionate and fiery in a way that reminded him of Rock Lee. "My goal is to destroy all the gates. Kill every last monster that comes out and avenge my clan." His hands clenched into fists. Then he blinked, realising he might sound too dramatic, and added quickly, "Uh... I've cleared 38 E-class gates so far. Come to me if you want to learn Kenjutsu, rookie."
Finally, the leader spoke. "Hoshigawa." He said simply before turning to the others. "Kazuki. Test his abilities. Rest of you, lunch is over. Continue training."
"What? Hey! I want to see what the rookie can do as well!" Shin complained loudly but only grumbled as Aya pinched his ear and dragged him away, with Haruto giving him one last disdainful scoff as they left the clearing.
Finally, only he and Kazuki were left behind.
Kazuki walked over to him, his calm gaze assessing him before he took out a kunai from his holster and took a stance. "Come rookie. Show me what you can do."
And thus started his life as a Genin in the Genin corp of Konoha.
Later, as he integrated within the team, he would learn more about their team captain.
Hoshigawa was also a refugee from Kiri. In fact, he had been a Genin back when the S-class gate first broke open in the Land of Water, and had been in charge of helping the refugees cross the sea to the Land of Fire. Which is how he ended up surviving.
Since then, Hoshigawa has taken part in countless gates, and had survived things most shinobi couldn't imagine. If Haruto's bragging was to be believed, Hoshigawa had even survived a C-class gate break, something that wiped out entire squads of chunin and genin alike.
Officially, Hoshigawa was still just a genin. Mostly because Konoha didn't trust Kiri refugees enough to give them higher rank or authority within the village, no matter how skilled they truly were. But unofficially, everyone knew he had the strength of a jounin.
In fact, as he would later learn, almost everyone in his team (except for Aya, the medic-nin) had the strength of a Chunin.
If nothing else… that increased his chances of survival within the gates by a few magnitudes.
He might not have gained the Jonin-Sensei he wanted. But he seemed to have gained a pretty reliable team.
—————
A few days later.
His arms trembled as he raised them into a guard, his body swaying from exhaustion. Sweat stung his eyes, blood trickled from a split lip, and his ribs burned every time he breathed. Still, he refused to stay down.
Haruto moved with the calm precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. His strikes were measured, punishing every mistake he made.
A kick swept him legs out from under him, sending him crashing hard against the packed dirt. Before he could even roll aside, Haruto's shadow loomed over him.
"Stay down," Haruto muttered, almost as if offering him mercy.
He spat blood, forcing himself to his knees. "Not yet."
Haruto's jaw tightened. Then his fist came down like a hammer. He barely got his arms up, the impact rattling his bones and forcing him back onto his heels.
A follow-up elbow smashed into his shoulder, numbing the entire arm. He stumbled, vision tunneling, but still swung weakly in return—a pitiful strike that Haruto batted away without effort.
It should have ended there. Anyone else would've given in. But maybe some of Rock Lee had rubbed off on him over the years because he dragged himself up again, swaying on his feet like a battered reed in the wind. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes were steady, stubbornly locked on Haruto.
"Damn idiot," Haruto hissed under his breath, stepping in one last time.
Haruto's knee drove into his gut, folding him over, before a controlled palm strike to the chest sent him sprawling flat onto his back. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and gasped, knowing that he'd cracked a rib or two. The world spun, and for a moment, he couldn't even move.
Silence stretched in the training yard as he eventually dragged himself up once again despite his body screaming in protest.
Haruto let out a slow breath. His voice was quiet, "You don't know when to quit, do you?" A pause, then the faintest hint of respect edged into his tone. "Tch. Annoying as hell… but you've got grit, I'll give you that."
With that Haruto turned and left, and he collapsed back onto the ground, chest heaving, vision swimming in and out.
Aya eventually stepped forward, her hands glowing faintly as she began mending his injuries. And there were many. Bone-deep aches, muscles screaming, skin torn and battered.
She worked silently at first, her expression calm, though her eyes flickered briefly with sympathy before she masked it.
"That bastard… he's actually far stronger than a genin, isn't he?" He asked, coughing lightly as the pain in his chest intensified for a moment.
"No. Completing 25 E-class Gates qualifies you for a promotion." Aya explained. "If Haruto wanted, he would've gotten promoted to a Chunin years ago."
"Why didn't he?" He asked.
"Pride, I suppose. And respect." She said with a shrug. "My husband is still a Genin, and Haruto has never won a single spar against him. Because of that, he believes that he doesn't deserve the promotion, and won't accept it until he defeats my husband. Or my husband gets promoted by the village first." She paused at that. "Well, that's not completely true. My husband could still get promoted to a Chunin rank if he wants. He just doesn't want it."
"Why not?"
"Because it's dangerous." Aya said with a shrug.
"Dangerous?" He asked.
"Yes. Getting promoted is dangerous. For me, you, the rest of the team. And even my husband." She said.
"How?" He asked.
"Well… once the first year of grace has passed, Genins are asked to complete at least one E-rank gate a month. Most genins join together in teams of 10 or more to accomplish this. But even then, even when they're careful, there are casualties. Do you know why?"
"Because monsters are dangerous." He said.
"Yes." Aya said with a smile. "An E-class gate could have anywhere between ten to a hundred monsters inside it. The larger their numbers, the weaker they are in general. But all in all, their strength range to anywhere from a newly minted Genin, to an experienced Genin. A single mistake against foes like these could lead to an unfortunate death. But, they're not even the worst part about gates. Do you know what is?"
"The gate boss?" He offered.
"Indeed. The boss of every gate is a step above the common monsters. The boss of an E-class gate requires multiple Genins working together to take it down."
"I see…" He said. "But what does this have to do with your husband not wanting a promotion?"
"Because once you're promoted to Chunin, you're in charge with clearing D-class gates. And it's mandatory to do so once every three months. If Hoshigawa takes his promotion, then the rest of the team will follow him in becoming Chunins as well. If they do that, then they'll go to D-class gates where a single misstep is all it takes for someone to die." Aya said, giving him a sad smile. "A medic-nin can help save lives. But there are limit to our abilities."
"I see." He said, realising that the team must've taken part in D-class gates in the past and lost someone or a few someone's before they decided to go back to the safety of E-class gates.
He didn't blame them, really. E-class gates might be a tad bit easy for them, but at least they'll live long enough to see their children and grandchildren.
In a world where the lives of shinobi meant little to nothing, that was perhaps its own kind of victory.
Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains of his small apartment, spilling across the wooden floor. He woke with a long stretch, body aching faintly from the previous day's training.
Three months had passed since he'd joined his new team, and in those three months, they had put him through a relentless hell. Every day had been bruises, injuries, sweat, blood, and exhaustion. Yet, because of all that, he had grown immensely.
He splashed cold water over his face, the sting bringing him fully awake, then set about cooking breakfast—simple rice, and meat. The meat had been given to him by the team captain. Harvested from the monsters they'd killed inside the Gates.
Apparently, eating monster meat is very beneficial for the physique. The higher the level of the monster meat you eat, the faster your physical growth.
He could only imagine that the bigger clans must all be feeding this type of meat to their children since a young age. Yet another way in which the strong grow stronger which the weak grow weaker.
The motions were mechanical now as he prepared his breakfast, his hands steady and precise from weeks of practice. As the meat sizzled, his thoughts drifted.
Three months already…
The difference was undeniable. His body felt sharper, leaner, honed like a blade that had been tempered in fire. Compared to before when he used to train on his own. The difference was like earth and sky.
His speed had doubled. His strikes no longer wasted motion. His reflexes had reached the point where his body reacted almost before his mind caught up.
He couldn't help but compare himself to the day he had killed that Kobold. Back then, fear had weighed down every movement, and only his reliance on his Academy style jutsu had let him defeat the monster so quickly.
Now, he was certain—if that Kobold stood before him again, he would cut it down without a single technique, just as Neji had done so effortlessly.
The realisation filled him with pride, but also made him bitter. It proved how much a capable mentor—and a strict team—could push him further than solitary training ever could.
Alone, he would have stumbled forward blindly. With them, every weakness had been exposed and hammered away.
Then again, if he had passed the Genin test, then he would've gained Kakashi as his Sensei. And considering how little Kakashi had trained his students, perhaps it was for the best that he failed that test.
And yet… despite all his progress, there was one thing that gnawed at him.
In the past three months, his team had entered three separate E-class gates. Each time, he had asked—sometimes pleaded—to join them. And each time, they had refused him. You're not ready. His team leader had said. Those words stung worse than Haruto's fists.
Instead, the veteran Chunin in charge of him and the other Genins in the genin corp had handed him trivial missions. Cleaning the riverbanks until his back ached from hauling silt. Cutting down overgrown grass under the hot sun. Walking the Inuzuka clan's pack of unruly dogs, who seemed determined to drag him face-first through the mud.
Humiliating errands, the kind of work any rookie fresh from the Academy could handle.
He stabbed at the meat with his chopsticks, chewing with a scowl.
It annoyed him deeply. No—infuriated him.
The reason he had joined this team in the first place wasn't to play errand boy. He had joined because of the gates. Because inside those gates lay the monsters that would give him Experience points.
The monsters that would finally push him to Level 1, unlocking the mystery of his Ideal Growth System. Every gate mission they left him behind, he felt that opportunity slipping further from his grasp.
But he wasn't foolish. He knew why they kept him back. A mix of protectiveness and pragmatism. They weren't being cruel; they were just trying to keep him alive. And, in their eyes, he truly wasn't ready yet. That knowledge calmed his anger, but didn't erase it.
He finished his meal in silence, staring out the window at the bustling village streets below. Children ran by with wooden kunai, merchants shouted over fresh produce, shinobi leapt across rooftops on their morning patrols. His hands curled into fists.
Well… time to go and get started with his daily training. Because only when his team leader felt that he was finally ready would he be allowed to join in on the Gate missions.
—————
The morning mist still clung to the village streets when he made his way toward the training ground. His body moved with the steady rhythm of someone long accustomed to early drills, but his senses were sharp, on edge.
Weeks of relentless lessons had drilled vigilance into him. Always alert. Always ready. Hoshigawa's words echoed in his head. Within a gate, danger never announced itself—it struck from shadow and silence when you were least prepared.
The faint crunch of gravel to his right made his eyes flick. He shifted his weight instinctively, muscles coiling in anticipation.
Movement.
Kazuki lunged from the cover of a narrow alley, a wooden tanto angled for his ribs. The attack was fast, and silent—an ambush meant to leave dark bruises if he hadn't been prepared.
But this time, he was prepared.
His arm snapped up, kunai intercepting the wooden blade with a sharp thud. The steel bit into the wood and he used it to push it away. Without hesitation, he pivoted, springing backward to gain space, feet barely whispering against the ground as he reset his stance.
His pulse raced, but not from fear. His body had moved on instinct. He had survived the ambush.
Kazuki straightened, lowering his blade with a rare flicker of approval in his eyes. He gave a small nod, silent acknowledgment.
The two fell into step together, moving toward the training ground. Eventually, they arrived at the place where the team was already gathered and doing warmups. The quiet shinobi finally broke the silence, his voice low but firm. "He's ready."
The team paused collectively at those words. Shin Hozuki's head snapped up first, his wide grin quick to form. He let out a sharp whistle that drew everyone's attention.
"Well, well," Shin said, eyes gleaming with envy. "You've got it easy, rookie. They put me through the gauntlet for eight entire months before they even thought about letting me into a gate. Eight whole months!" Shin shook his head dramatically, though the grin never left his face.
He blinked in surprise at that bit of info. His gaze slid immediately to Hoshigawa, who stood slightly apart from the others, arms folded.
"Next mission," Hoshigawa said at last. "You'll come with us."
A rush of joy surged through him. He couldn't hold it back—he whooped aloud, fists clenched in triumph. At last, the chance he had been waiting for.
From the side, Haruto's voice cut in like a cold blade. "Don't get too excited, brat." The older genin leaned against a post, arms crossed, a dark smirk tugging at his mouth. "Most rookies who die in gates? They die in their first three. That's the real test of their measure. Survive the first three, and maybe you'll start to get the hang of living."
The words poured water on his fire. His grin dimmed, and he drew in a deep breath to steady himself.
Haruto wasn't wrong. He had seen firsthand how dangerous even a single Kobold could be. And inside a gate, there would be dozens of hem. Each one a potential death waiting to happen.
But danger also meant Exp. Danger meant progress.
He clenched his fists tighter, grounding himself. He wasn't reckless enough to ignore the risk—but neither would he shy from it. His body had been broken down and reforged these last three months. And all because of this.
This was exactly what he'd been waiting for.
The gates were incredibly dangerous. But they were also the only path forward for him.
And he was ready to take it.
—————
Two weeks later, his chance finally came.
The team assembled at the mission counter inside Konoha's administrative hall, where the air always smelled faintly of parchment and ink.
Rows of clerks worked tirelessly behind wooden desks, handing out scrolls, receiving reports, tallying numbers of successful missions and casualties alike.
When it was their turn, the clerk barely glanced up, simply plucking a scroll from a stack, breaking the wax seal, and reading aloud.
"E-class gate. Location: Kurokawa Prefecture. Eight hundred miles northeast. A local lord reported its appearance via a messenger bird. Estimated time since manifestation—three days."
The clerk's voice was flat, disinterested, as though he were announcing the weather rather than a potential massacre. He slid the scroll across the desk toward Hoshigawa, who caught it with practiced ease.
The words "three days" echoed in the his mind. His academy instructors had drilled it into them over and over: gates broke after seven days. No exceptions. When they broke, the monsters inside came flooding out, ravaging the land around them and killing every human on sight until stopped.
He could already picture it—farmland trampled, livestock devoured, families torn apart. Should they fail to clear the gate in time.
He knew about the messenger birds too. Specially bred and trained to endure long distances without rest, with wings strong enough to carry them thousands of miles in a single day.
Every city, town, and village was assigned one, along with a Fuinjutsu tag that let them understand the class of the gate. Their survival often depending on how quickly they could alert Konoha when a gate appeared nearby.
The thought that some farmer or minor lord had rushed to scribble a desperate message before tying it to a bird's leg—it lent a sharpness to the mission he hadn't felt before.
This was real. Not just something he read in a book or heard in a class lecture.
Sometimes, he knew, samurai loyal to the lords could deal with a gate themselves. Other times, black market mercenaries or wandering adventurers handled them. But more often than not, when the stakes were high and the risk too great, the burden fell to Konoha. And this time, for the first time, it fell to him as well.
...
Half an hour later, he stood at the edge of the village, the 200 meter tall reinforced wall looming tall behind him. The forest stretched out ahead, an ocean of green leading toward lands he had never seen before.
This was it—his first step outside the village where he had lived since childhood.
Aya fluttered around him like a mother hen, hands quick as she checked over his gear. "Food pills? Show me." He lifted the pouch, and she counted with a quick glance. "Chakra pills? And don't lie—if you run dry in a gate, you'll die. Kunai sharp?" She inspected one herself, giving a little hum of approval as the blade gleamed in the morning light. She frowned anyway, as if the weapons might suddenly dull of their own accord.
Her nerves were almost palpable. It surprised him at first—she was a veteran, after all, and she'd seen far more dangerous things than this.
But then he remembered the teammates who'd joined the team in the years before his arrival. Teammates who probably died while Aya did her best to heal them. No doubt blaming herself for their deaths.
So he didn't push her away. He let her fuss. Quietly. A part of him almost grateful for it.
"Relax, Aya," Haruto muttered with a scoff from where he leaned against a tree. "If the brat dies, it won't be because of dull kunai." His words earned him a sharp glare from Aya, but he didn't seem to care.
Before the tension could thicken, Shin Hozuki came sprinting up the road, panting heavily, one hand rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm late!" he said between breaths, flashing a sheepish grin.
Aya sighed, muttering something under her breath about hopeless boys. Haruto rolled his eyes. Kazuki didn't so much as blink.
Hoshigawa stood apart from them all, arms crossed, the picture of calm authority. He hadn't said a single word during all the preparations, but when the last of his team had gathered, he finally spoke.
"Enough," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut cleanly through the morning air. "We move out. Now."
No rousing speech. No false comfort. Just the command of a man who had walked into the jaws of death too many times to dress it up with words.
He adjusted the straps of his pack, the weight settling firmly on his shoulders as ran alongside with the team.
This was this. The chance he had been waiting for. Whether he would be able to take advantage of it or not would depend on no one else but him.
—————
They moved swiftly, feet barely disturbing the ground as they crossed forests, rivers, and winding roads. To an ordinary eye, they would have been little more than blurs, the rush of displaced air the only evidence of their passing.
Their pace was relentless—easily five times faster than the fastest man in his old world—and yet, none of them seemed winded. Their strides were steady, their breathing controlled, their bodies honed for endurance beyond human limits.
Eight hundred miles was no small distance. For merchants with oxen carts, it was a journey of weeks. For commoners on foot, perhaps even a month. But for shinobi, it was a matter of days. Two, if they kept a sustainable pace. One, if they burned through their chakra recklessly, though no team worth their salt would take that risk in the field.
Hoshigawa's orders had been simple: travel fast, but not desperate. Vigilance above speed.
He kept those words in mind as he ran with the others, every nerve alert, every sense sharpened. He remembered the lessons drilled into him during training—the warnings that had been repeated again and again.
Gates appeared near human settlements most of the time, but not always. Sometimes they manifested deep in forests, high in mountains, or in abandoned ruins where no one would stumble across them until it was too late.
For all they knew, a gate had broken open in front of them, and an unprepared team won't know until they were in the middle of the horde with no chance of escape.
And so they traveled as though the next step might bring them into an ambush. Hands always close to their weapons, senses stretched to their limits, scanning shadows and tree lines for the slightest sign of movement.
The land passed beneath them in a blur. Villages and small towns dotted the countryside, each one surrounded by high wooden palisades or stone walls.
Those walls would never hold back a horde of monsters forever. Everyone knew it. But they weren't meant to—only to slow the beasts long enough for families to rush into the underground cellars now built beneath every home. By the order of the Daimyo.
It was a grim adaptation of life in this new world, where safety was never absolute.
When they passed through, farmers and guards paused to watch the shinobi team sprint past. Some bowed, some called blessings, others simply looked on with haunted eyes. Every person in the Land of Fire knew that their survival rested on the speed and strength of shinobi like them.
Hours later, as dusk bled across the sky, they crested a rise and came upon a village—or rather, what remained of one.
The wooden walls had been shattered, broken in half as though something enormous had slammed against them again and again until they gave way. Smoke and ash still clung faintly to the air, a bitter, acrid reminder of fire long extinguished.
Within, the houses were little more than husks: roofs collapsed, doors splintered, furniture crushed under claw marks that gouged through wood and stone alike.
His pace slowed, eyes lingering on the devastation. 'Had anyone survived?' He wondered. 'Had the villagers made it into their cellars before the monsters descended? Or had the cellars turned into tombs instead, buried beneath rubble with no rescue in sight?'
"Two months ago, a C-class gate broke near here." Shin Hozuki spoke out, his tone uncharacteristically dark. His usual youthful bravado was gone, replaced with something cold and dark. His gaze swept across the ruins, his eyes filled with rage. "Thirteen villages and two entire towns were destroyed as a result. It took three squads of Jounin and twice as many Chunin to put the monsters down before they could do any further damage."
Shin spat into the dirt, his eyes flashing with raw hatred. "Families, women, children. Eaten alive. And still, those nobles think Gates are just another problem to throw shinobi at. They don't see what we see."
He swallowed hard at Shin's words, forcing his eyes away from the wreckage.
He had read about such situations in his academy books. Every time a monster gate broke open, tragedy followed. Civilians died in droves. But watching the result of one such incident himself somehow made it real for him.
He didn't reply, but his mood had shifted. His earlier anticipation for his first mission, his excitement for the experience points, were now dampened under the weight of the dark reality.
They resumed their pace soon after, leaving the ruins behind.
Two days later, with dawn just breaking, they reached Kurokawa Prefecture. From there, it took only an hour to reach their destination.
The village was small but still standing, its walls intact, guards patrolling nervously atop the ramparts. Relief rippled across the faces of the watchmen when their team appeared, their Konoha headbands catching the light.
The gates creaked open almost immediately, and an old man hurried out, bowing deeply to Hoshigawa.
"You came," the old man said breathlessly, as though he hadn't truly believed they would. His eyes darted toward the northeast, fear stark in his expression. "The gate—it's still there. Please… hurry."
The team exchanged brief looks. There was no need for words.
The real mission was about to begin.