Chapter 15
Looking back, Iruka was quite envious of his students.
When he entered this world, he had only one year left in the Academy. And back then, he didn't even know his name. When he came to his senses, around him was only destruction. He had no idea where he was.
He did not have to figure out who he was and how he got here, but he also had to find a place to sleep and eat. At least no one suspected his weird behavior in the first few days. There were just so many things he didn't understand, and it was a scary time for him.
But he never gave up on the Academy. It might've been easier to walk away, but back then, when he finally calmed, he still thought he could be some kind of hero in this world. After all, there had to be a reason why he had come here.
In that year, he studied for sixteen hours a day. He devoured everything he could get his hands on. He even trained himself; compared to others, it was barely anything of note. He did his best.
That was before he discovered depression, self-loathing, and drinking himself to death. He had been just as stupid — if not more — than the kids who thought the world of themselves.
Watching Neji easily walk along the training poles Iruka had set up irritated him. Even Sasuke couldn't manage it that smoothly. But Neji moved with ease, even as he fought Rock Lee — like he'd done this hundreds of times before.
Even though Iruka told his students not to label others as geniuses or losers, he couldn't quite take his advice this time. Compared to Neji, he felt like a loser. For a fact, he knew he would have struggled on those poles at least for months before he got the hang of it.
So he picked up a small pebble and flicked it at the back of Neji's head, just hard enough to distract him. Rock Lee capitalized on the moment and landed a solid kick in Neji's stomach.
"Do you think in the real world you're only going to fight one-on-one?" Iruka asked, making things up as he just wanted to mess with the Hyūga. "You're strong, Neji, but it's getting to your head."
"How is it getting into my head? I am strong and that is a fact," Neji replied dryly. "I am neither overstimulating nor understimulating my strength against the opponent before me."
"That kind of strength just makes you a priority target. The enemy won't send someone weak after you — and if they do, they won't be alone or without a plan. When you are facing an enemy, you must not only think of what you know about them, but what they know about you, too. You need to always be aware of your surroundings."
"I would, if I could use my Byukugan," Neji said. "Ouch!"
Another pebble struck the back of his head.
"You're lucky I don't blindfold you to begin with," Iruka said. "Even the Byakugan has its weaknesses. Never rely on one thing. Every shinobi needs to sharpen all of their senses. As a shinobi, you must not only see and hear, but feel the danger."
Neji grumbled something under his breath but didn't argue further. He continued the spar. Now and then, when Rock Lee was about to be cornered, Iruka would throw another pebble at Neji's head — a subtle equalizer of the fight.
Not that Lee got off easy. The moment he started getting used to the poles, Iruka threw a pebble at his legs to knock him off balance and force a recovery.
Rinse and repeat.
Every student struggled at first, but eventually, they adapted. Iruka wouldn't stop until they walked those poles like they walked on flat ground.
For some, it will take a day. For others, it would take much longer. But Iruka believed the results would come sooner or later. These kids weren't crybabies. They knew what they were in for and persevered so long as there was a goal at the end.
Especially geniuses like Neji. As much as the boy irritated him, Iruka didn't hate him. He was still his student, and Iruka wanted to make him into a great shinobi who could surpass everyone else.
And not just him — Rock Lee, Tenten, and the others. Regardless of talent or bloodline, Iruka was determined to build their foundation strong enough so that by the time they faced the shinobi world, none of them would repeat the mistakes Iruka had made.
Even with eyes spying on him, Iruka refused to falter. If anything, it motivated him more. He wanted them to see how wrong they were. He wanted the principal to realize how foolish his ideas were. He wanted to show Danzo that Iruka's methods produced far better shinobi than Root ever could.
But he feared they were too blind, too narrow-minded to see the truth. They only saw what they wanted. And when faced with the truth that didn't align with their perspectives, they will try to destroy it.
"Very well," Iruka clapped his hands. "That's enough for today. We'll continue with weapon mastery."
He led the students from the training poles to the Academy's weapon storage. He could see their fatigue — each one had sparred on the poles — so changing things up wasn't a bad idea.
But when he unlocked the storage doors, he froze.
Empty. Just bare walls and vacant boxes where rows of practice weapons should have been.
Iruka took a deep breath to steady himself. Most might assume the weapons were stolen, but Iruka knew better. First, the Academy had decent security. Second, the weapons were old and inexpensive — not worth the risk of theft. Third, he would've sensed any break-in. No, someone from within the Academy had done this.
"It seems I wasn't informed the weapons were replaced," Iruka told the confused students. "Don't worry — you'll still have something to practice with."
He pulled a few scrolls from his pockets and motioned for the kids to step back. With a puff of smoke, hundreds of gleaming weapons dropped onto the ground — daggers, swords, kunai, and shuriken. All of them razor-sharp.
"Congratulations," Iruka said. "You'll be the first to try the Academy's new equipment."
There was something Iruka never told anyone. Something he wasn't exactly proud of.
He was quite a kleptomaniac.
But he had one rule: never steal from the village. Anything outside of it, though? Fair game. If he could get his hands on it, it was his.
With his seal storage system, he hoarded everything — weapons, armor, clothing, jewelry, pottery, and even furniture. If it caught his eye, it got sealed. He wasn't a hoarder exactly, just… selective. And over the years, he'd amassed quite the collection.
And this was just a tiny sample of it.
As he handed out the weapons, Iruka looked up toward the Academy's top window — and spotted the principal glaring at him, face red with rage. Iruka smirked at the man's idiocy. But he knew this was only the beginning.
The principal was a bureaucrat through and through. And he would use everything at his disposal to irritate Iruka. It was his only weapon, and he'd wield it to the bitter end.
But Iruka could endure. Just for a little while longer — and then he'd return the favor twice over.
…
Iruka had to remind himself — they were just children. And he hadn't been much better when he first handled real weapons either. No, he remembered almost cutting off his fingers a few times, so he was probably far worse than they were.
Some of the kids were bleeding from careless slips, small gashes, or clumsy hands. It was a stark reminder of how far they still had to go. And that there was no way to take a shortcut with them. The basics of the basics must still be taught before moving on to other things.
At least it was nothing serious — just a few cuts. The Academy had medics on standby, so he brought them to the infirmary. The worst part was writing a report for every single injury. What kind of injury it was and how they got it.
He reminded himself: they were mostly civilian children. They had never been taught to handle real weapons. The combat curriculum had been a joke before he arrived. And the equipment was cheap and old, so none of them probably even held anything sharp in their lives.
That's why he was here. To change that. And as much as he wanted to blame them for their lack of skill, he could see their determination. They complained behind his back, but they still did every task he gave them. They listened when he spoke.
Some were lazier than others. Some picked things up faster. But all of them wanted to become shinobi.
That was enough for Iruka to endure the paperwork, write the damn reports, and keep thinking of how to improve their training.
"Working hard, eh?"
Iruka looked up at a woman with curly black hair and oval glasses.
"My fault for not watching overexcited kids," he said with a tired smile, finishing another form. "What about you? Not too busy to come make fun of me?"
"No, I am quite a busy person of late," Suzume replied. "Since someone decided actually to teach these hopeless kids something useful, I was left with no choice but to do the same."
She stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"I came to warn you. The principal's furious. He's planning to use today's accident against you."
"I figured," Iruka said.
He wouldn't be surprised if the man exaggerated everything — twisting the truth to the parents, making them file complaints with the Hokage, maybe even demanding Iruka's resignation.
"You aren't worried?" Suzume asked.
"I don't have time to play politics," Iruka said. "Let them complain. I'll pretend to listen, and I'll keep teaching unless the Hokage himself tells me to stop. These games are only for those who want to climb the bureaucratic ladder. I don't care about any of that. It's just a mild annoyance."
What he really worried about was Danzo.
So far, the kids were too useless for Danzo to notice or from clans, so he couldn't touch them carelessly. But Rock Lee… Tenten… they had potential. And the moment Danzo saw that, he'd try to sink his claws into them.
Tenten especially — she was a natural with weapons. Whether it was a sword or a throwing weapon, it seemed like she'd been born holding one. But no one else had noticed. Not even Tenten herself.
That made Iruka more determined to teach her. She had no clan, no special bloodline — and that meant someone like Danzo wouldn't even glance her way.
Iruka couldn't wait for the day Danzo realized the ones he dismissed would surpass any of his Root shinobi.
But Iruka also knew he couldn't protect them forever. He had to make them strong enough to protect themselves — and to make their own choices. But as long as he taught them, nobody would be able to touch them.
"You might want to get involved in politics," Suzume warned. "I heard a new teacher's being hired. And knowing our dear principal's taste, I don't think the newcomer will be very kind to you."
"He's just digging his own grave," Iruka muttered. "Still… I don't have time to investigate. Can I leave it to you?"
Suzume sighed. "What an unreliable colleague I have. Fine. I'll see what I can find. It's just rumors right now, and I might be thinking too much about it."
Iruka nodded his thanks and, after she left, quickly finished his paperwork. He could feel time slipping away. He cleaned his desk, made a few hand signs, and vanished in a puff of smoke.
…
At an abandoned training ground on the other side of the village, Iruka lay on the ground, drenched in sweat, hands bloodied. His broken tanto lay beside him, surrounded by hundreds of embedded shuriken.
"How the fuck did Itachi do this so effortlessly?" Iruka groaned.
That monstrous kid had been on a completely different level, even when he was just a kid. Trying to follow even one of his training routines just reminded Iruka of the massive gap between them.
And he still had to try Shisui's methods.
He had no idea how he was supposed to do it — not when his chakra was nearly gone and the memory feedback from his shadow clone hit him like a truck, making him even more tired.
All he wanted now was a cold beer, salty snacks, and one of Jiraiya's books.
Was that really too much to ask? Probably, at least not until he finished with today's training. The sun was still high.
A.N. Sorry for the late update. Been sick, probably won't be able to do other stories on time either, just a heads up. I will try to write as much as I can; it's just been a tough week for me.
As always, thanks for reading and supporting me, so I can continue writing without any concerns, and if you want more, up to 7 more chapters and 28 chapters in total with all my other stories, you can support me on pa treon. com \ ironwolf852.