I woke to sunlight stabbing through the gap in my curtains like a poorly aimed kunai. Perfect aim, actually—right in my eyes. Groaning, I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow.
'Five more minutes. Just five. Is that too much to ask from the universe?'
The universe, as it turns out, had other plans. A rapid knock at my door jolted me fully awake.
"Shinji! Are you up yet? We're going to be late!" Minato's voice, already chipper at this ungodly hour.
I sat up, running a hand through my disheveled black hair. My modest apartment—a significant upgrade from the orphanage—came into focus. Not exactly luxury living, but the freedom was worth every ryo. Amazing what a few "family recipes" could do when introduced to the right clan restaurants. Pizza had been my golden ticket; the Akimichi clan had practically thrown money at me.
"Coming!" I called back, voice still thick with sleep. "Door's open."
The door slid open, and there stood Minato Namikaze in all his glory. I cracked one eye open to see Minato already dressed, his blonde hair practically glowing in the morning light. Disgusting. Nobody should look that put-together before noon.
"You're still in bed?" He shook his head, exasperation mixed with amusement. "Sensei's going to make you do extra laps again."
I stretched, bones cracking pleasantly. "Worth it. Quality sleep is essential for shinobi training, you know."
"Is that what they call a hangover now?" Minato's eyes drifted to the empty sake bottle on my nightstand.
I flashed him my most winning smile. "Purely medicinal. For... chakra circulation."
"Right." He wasn't buying it. Smart kid. "Hurry up. I'll wait outside."
After he left, I dragged myself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The mirror reflected a pretty face with tired eyes. Not my past life's face, obviously, but I'd lucked out in this reincarnation lottery.
'Another day pretending I don't know how this all ends. Another day playing student when I could probably outfight our teacher.'
I pulled on my clothes with ease, a skill from my previous life that transferred surprisingly well. My fingers automatically adjusted the kunai holster on my thigh—muscle memory was a beautiful thing. With my taijutsu knowledge from before and this body's natural talent, I was leagues ahead of my classmates. Had to deliberately hold back to avoid too many questions.
I grabbed an onigiri from my fridge—breakfast of champions—and joined Minato outside. The kid was brilliant, easily the top of our class, though he never flaunted it.
"Ready to dazzle them with your effortless genius?" I asked, taking a bite of my rice ball.
Minato smiled sheepishly. "I just try my best."
"And your best happens to be better than everyone else's. Very humble. I approve." I clapped him on the shoulder, starting our walk to the academy.
The morning air was crisp, filled with the scents of Konoha—street food, foliage, and that indefinable something that made this place feel alive. Civilians nodded respectfully as we passed. Academy students weren't quite shinobi yet, but we were on our way.
"Did you finish the chakra control exercise?" Minato asked.
I snorted. "Please. I could do that in my sleep."
"You probably did. I saw you napping in class yesterday."
"I was meditating." I winked. "Advanced technique."
As we approached the academy, I spotted our sensei waiting at the entrance, arms crossed, looking pointedly at his watch. Minato quickened his pace. I deliberately slowed mine.
"Shinji," Minato hissed, "don't push it."
I ran a hand through my hair. "Relax. Watch and learn how to handle authority."
"Last time you 'handled authority,' you ended up cleaning the training grounds for a week."
"Worth it for the look on his face." I grinned at the memory. "Besides, those grounds never looked better."
Our sensei's expression darkened as we approached. Minato, ever the perfect student, bowed respectfully. I gave a lazy two-finger salute.
"Namikaze, punctual as always," he nodded approvingly. Then his eyes narrowed at me. "Shinji. Cutting it close. Again."
I smiled brightly. "Good morning to you too, Sensei. Lovely day for training, isn't it?"
His eye twitched. Victory.
The Academy classroom was already buzzing when we slipped through the door. Chalk dust hung in the morning sunlight, giving the mundane room an almost ethereal quality. Or maybe I was still half-asleep.
I slid into my seat near the back, positioning myself perfectly—close enough to hear, far enough to get away with the occasional nap.
"Good morning, class," Sensei announced, silencing the chatter. "Today we'll continue with basic chakra theory and practice leaf concentration."
A collective groan rolled through the room. I suppressed a smile. Leaf concentration was mind-numbingly tedious for most of the kids, but for me? Child's play. My chakra control was practically instinctive.
The kid in front of me—some Uchiha I'd dubbed "Grumpy-chan" since I couldn't be bothered to remember his actual name—turned around with that typical Uchiha smirk. Dark eyes, dark hair, superiority complex fully operational.
"Bet you fall asleep again, Shinji," Grumpy-chan whispered. "Some of us are actually trying to become shinobi."
I yawned dramatically. "Wake me when they teach something useful."
His eyes narrowed. The Uchiha clan kids always took everything so *seriously*. Must be exhausting.
Sensei began his lecture on chakra pathways, drawing diagrams on the board that were simplified to the point of being almost wrong. I doodled in my notebook, occasionally correcting his diagrams when they strayed too far from accuracy. My previous life might not have included ninja knowledge, but my weeks in the Academy had taught me enough to spot basic errors.
'Most of these kids won't even make it to genin,' I thought, watching a few struggle to even take proper notes. 'Then again, maybe I shouldn't judge. Not everyone had the advantage of a past life's worth of memory.'
We moved outside to the practice yard, a simple open space with training dummies and targets scattered about. Each student was given a leaf.
"Remember," Sensei instructed, "focus your chakra to make the leaf stick to your forehead. Concentration is key."
Most kids struggled, their leaves fluttering to the ground within seconds. Minato, predictably, got it on his first try, his leaf firmly attached as if glued. He sat cross-legged, eyes closed in perfect meditation form.
I twirled my leaf between my fingers, deliberately postponing the exercise. The real challenge wasn't making the leaf stick—it was making it look like I was struggling just enough to be believable.
"Shinji," Sensei called out, "perhaps you'd like to demonstrate your progress?"
A trap. He was expecting me to fail, giving him an excuse to lecture me about my attitude.
With a calculated sigh, I placed the leaf against my forehead and channeled the smallest whisper of chakra—just enough to make it stick for three seconds before I deliberately disrupted the flow, letting the leaf float down.
"Still working on it, Sensei," I said, my tone perfectly balanced between frustration and determination. The art of calculated mediocrity—a skill more valuable than any jutsu they taught here.
Sensei nodded, seemingly satisfied with my apparent struggle. "Keep practicing. Focus your mind."
I caught Minato watching me with an amused smirk. He knew exactly what I was doing.
"Very convincing," he mouthed sarcastically when Sensei turned away.
I winked back at him. For the next hour, I performed a masterful ballet of almost-but-not-quite-getting-it, gradually improving just enough to show progress without raising eyebrows from anyone except Minato, who occasionally shook his head at my performance.
By the end of the exercise, I'd positioned myself solidly in the middle of the class—not remarkable enough to draw attention, not poor enough to require extra help. Perfectly, deliberately average.
When we broke for lunch, I stretched dramatically, feeling the satisfying pop of my spine. "That was torture," I announced to no one in particular.
Grumpy-chan scoffed as he passed. "Maybe if you spent less time drinking and more time practicing..."
"Drinking? Me?" I pressed a hand to my chest in mock offense. "I'm wounded, Grumpy-chan. I would never tarnish the prestigious reputation of the Academy with such behavior."
He rolled his eyes and walked away, but not before I caught the twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. Even Uchihas weren't immune to charm.
Minato appeared at my side, lunch box in hand. "That was quite the performance," he said, opening his bento. "You're getting better at looking terrible."
I unwrapped my onigiri with a flourish. "Thank you. I've been practicing my mediocrity."
"I still don't understand why someone with your chakra control pretends to struggle," he said, popping a rice ball into his mouth.
I grinned. Minato had caught me practicing late one night during our first week at the Academy. The cat was long out of the bag with him.
"Maybe I'm just not very good at chakra control," I offered with a lazy smile.
Minato gave me a flat look. "Right. And I'm secretly terrible at taijutsu."
I stretched out on the grass, chewing thoughtfully. "Being the best just means they expect more from you. Why set myself up for that kind of pressure?"
Minato shook his head, but he was smiling. "You're impossible."
"That's my charm," I replied, closing my eyes against the sun. "Wake me when lunch is over?"
But as Minato launched into a detailed explanation of what I'd missed in yesterday's lesson, my mind was drifting. The key to surviving in a village full of people who could kill you with a finger twitch was basically the same as surviving a family reunion—be interesting enough that no one wants to kill you, but boring enough that no one asks about your love life.
'Be mediocre,' I reminded myself. 'The middle child of ninja academy. Not the prodigy, not the dropout—just the guy who might remember your birthday but definitely won't get you a present.'