The Academy emptied quickly that day; the second lecture had been a free period and the bell had rung early.
Akira walked home with Sasuke at his side, the village shrinking around their small forms as they passed shops and training grounds that smelled of oil, wood smoke, and freshly baked buns. The sun was leaning toward the west.
"First day's done," Sasuke said, voice flat as usual.
"Mm," Akira answered, feeling heavier than his small bag deserved. His thoughts drifted as they walked — not about students or teachers, but about leverage. About the future.
He remembered the system's simulations, the different branches he could nudge. He thought of Sarutobi Huruzen and the long, soporific speech that made his teeth grind. Once, in a careless moment, he'd wished they'd die for wasting everyone's time. But now his thinking was colder, strategic: if he could place people who could be influenced into the right positions, Konoha might become something different—something better for his plans.
They reached Akira's house. His parents were waiting by the gate, faces soft with pride and worry both. His father's posture was that familiar Uchiha sternness; his mother's smile was the kind that warmed the room like hot tea.
"Back already?" his father grunted.
"Yeah," Akira said.
"You did fine," his father said, placing a hand on his shoulder—brief, rare approval. His mother fussed over his clothes like he was still a toddler.
That night Akira practiced a little taijutsu in the yard until his knuckles stung, and fell asleep replaying names and faces.
The Next Morning
Akira arrived early the following morning. The classroom was a familiar chaos: Naruto already loud in the corner, Sakura fussing with her hair, and Sasuke leaning against a wall, cool and distant.
Naruto's voice carried across the room before his face did. "Hehehe, believe it! Today I'm finally gonna beat Sasuke!"
Sakura snapped, "Naruto, stop bothering Sasuke!"
Sakura then turned toward Sasuke with hopeful childish insistence, "Sasuke-kun! Sit next to me, okay?"
Sasuke barely glanced up. "I'm not interested in any of this childish stuff."
Naruto, undeterred and furious in equal measure, shouted at Sasuke, "Sasuke! Fight me after class! I'll definitely win today!"
Sasuke, with his usual clipped tone, replied, "If you're weak, step aside."
Shikamaru, half asleep by the desk, muttered in that weary drawl: "What a drag…"
Choji, stuffing something in his mouth, called over with an amiable grin, "Naruto, want some snacks? I brought extras."
Shino, in the corner, murmured, "Naruto, please stop shouting," like it was a polite request to the weather.
Akira sat down near the window. Ino slid into the bench beside him after an energetic greeting; they traded a low, practical conversation about which teachers taught what and who the academy's strongest students were. Neji and other prodigies were names on every lip.
The morning lecture eventually began: the Will of Fire doctrine, long and repetitive, praising Hiruzen in tones that felt disgusting to Akira.
Twenty sentences on the Will of Fire. Fifteen on Hiruzen's achievements. Akira's mouth tasted bitter; every glorified sentence was another reminder of the gap between myth and what he'd seen in the simulations.
When the break bell rang, Iruka clapped his hands. "Let's head to the training ground!"
Outside, Naruto burst with energy and immediately turned to Iruka. "Iruka-sensei, c'mon! When are we doing the cool jutsu stuff?" he joked
Iruka sighed, " First learn three body techniques"
Naruto felt disappointed as he just can't learn it. He then spotted Akira with the spark of challenge in his eyes. "Akira! Let's duel today. I'm gonna prove it — I swear I'll be Hokage!"
Akira simply nodded. The challenge was an invitation to measure himself; he accepted it with the casual confidence of someone who had already measured the world.
They faced each other in a small open patch of dirt between training logs. Both Akira and Naruto formed the Seal of Confrontation and took their stances.
Akira pulled out six rough, thick shuriken — blunt edges, balanced for practice less than for killing. Naruto blinked when they left Akira's fingers and flew in an arcing formation toward him. It was an unusual open move; most academy fights were taijutsu and three body techniques, not throwing a handful of iron shuriken at once.
Naruto panicked and scrambled. Dodging the shuriken upset his rhythm; he stumbled, his root balance gone. Akira saw the gap instantly and closed.
Akira didn't waste time with theatrics. He ran forward and punched.
Naruto, off-balance from the shuriken dodge, tried to block clumsily with one hand while doing awkward footwork. Akira's punch struck Naruto's blocking hand, driving it back and breaking his base. With that, Akira's fist connected squarely with Naruto's chin.
Naruto flew a few meters, landing hard; a red bruise quickly painted his face, the corner of his chin marked by a clean, angry welt. He blinked, dazed for the space of a heartbeat, then scrambled up like he'd been slapped awake. The boy's resilience was ridiculous — he seemed almost immune to lasting damage, more wind than flesh.
Naruto charged again, shouting. His attack was wild but earnest. Akira sidestepped easily, sweeping both legs: one strike into the waist, another into the shoulder — Naruto folded and tumbled on the dirt. He tried again and again; every attempt ended with him tripped, swept, or blown back by Akira's calm precision.
Minutes passed like that. Naruto's body began to show small marks, darkening into bruises. All the boldness and shouting couldn't stop the steady logic of Akira's movement.
Then, as Naruto made one last reckless run,
Akira formed a small hand seal and exhaled sharply.
"Wind Release: Air Bullet!"
The wind punched out of his mouth like a living thing.
A gust billowed; Naruto was lifted and hurled tens of meters across the ground. He flew into the cluster of watching students and crashed among them. The courtyard filled with a chorus of gasps, a few scattered giggles, and immediate concern.
"Akira wins the match. Form the seal of reconciliation"
Iruka declared, though Naruto's expression was stubborn rather than defeated.
Naruto pushed himself up, fuming but unharmed for the most part, and still loudly claimed he'd been holding back.
Students laughed, half at Naruto and half at the spectacle. Naruto protested, "I was almost at the same level—Iruka-sensei, you know—I was holding back!"
Akira merely stepped back, expression neutral. He didn't tease, didn't gloat. He watched Naruto with a look that mixed something like curiosity and a small, grudging respect. Naruto was a strange creature; his heart carried a ridiculous devotion to Konoha that bordered on self-destructive mercy. Naruto forgave the unforgivable and still wanted to stand at the head of the village.
"Holy mother," Akira thought and then shrugged the thought off as untranslatable into anything less blunt. He liked Naruto, in a way that confused and unsettled him. The boy was pure will, and that purity might one day flip something huge.
Sasuke watched from the edge of the crowd. He nodded at Akira — an acknowledgment of strength. "You have gotten stronger," he said softly. Akira returned the nod but didn't offer the expectation of praise back. Sasuke's half-angered, half-quiet stare suggested he'd expected reciprocal ritualized compliments and didn't get them. The balance was off; Sasuke didn't like dissonance.
Matches followed. Sasuke sparred with Shino ; Kiba fought Hinata with quiet intensity; the academy filled with the rustle of training cloth and the dull thumps of padded blows. Practical class slid into theory on simple traps and snares — the kind that taught thinking and patience more than raw force.
That evening… Akira returned home. As he settled down, a system message flickered at the edge of his mind:
System:
Daily Simulation Count — 314 remaining.
Lucky Simulation Chances — 0 remaining
Lucky Simulation Timer — 35 days until scheduled event.
He thought over the numbers with a strategy's eye. One lucky simulation in a month. Forty-six daily counts remaining for getting another lucky Simulation.
Two approaches opened: wait and stack luck for a stronger combined simulation; or use the lucky chance sooner for a targeted gain.
After thinking for a while, he decided to aim for an Enhanced Lucky Draw. Maybe… just maybe, he could unlock the Samsara Eyes.
After dinner and a light training session at the Uchiha ground (he never gets tired of practicing ninjutsu; every new technique felt like a small sunrise), he slept.
Two months passed just like that. And the awaited system message came just like cold iced-cola on summer afternoon.
System Alert:Lucky Simulation Chance ×1 has arrived.
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