"I should probably choose a fire release type of jutsu," Satoru murmured under his breath, though the sound was barely audible. His voice felt swallowed by the stillness.
It wasn't even a matter of preference. He didn't really have a choice. His chakra affinity was fire; Nono had confirmed that for him weeks ago. Trying to master wind or water now would just mean slamming his head against a brick wall over and over, wasting time he didn't have. With fire, at least, the current would flow with him instead of against him.
'Better to ride the stream than try to paddle upstream,' he told himself. 'Besides, I am in the land of fire, fire jutsu is practically the local trend. Nobody's going to raise an eyebrow if I start spitting flames.'
He leaned back, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. But then another thought crept in.
'The academy… What exactly are their graduation requirements right now? He chewed his lip. In the anime, it was mastering the three academy jutsus—Clone, Transformation, and Substitution. That was the baseline. But this is earlier. Minato had just reopened the academy after the war. For all I know, the requirements could be completely different.'
That uncertainty gnawed at him, but he shook his head firmly. "Doesn't matter," he whispered to himself. "Regardless of what the requirements are, I'm mastering those three. Clone, Transformation, Substitution. No excuses."
His fingers curled into fists against the table. 'If I'm going to catch up to monsters like Itachi, I need to put in the effort. No shortcuts, no whining. By the end of this year, I'll have those three nailed down, or I'll die trying.'
The thought lit a small fire in his chest. He began stacking the books neatly, returning each one to the shelf where he had found it. His movements were careful; part out of respect for the fragile spines, part because the librarian's hawk-like eyes seemed capable of boring into the back of his head even from across the room.
When he was done, he approached the front desk. There was a new librarian.
'Ooh, do they change shifts in the academy? I wonder how many students come to the library at night.'
The new Librarian looked up slowly from his own reading. He was a short man, his back slightly bent with age, but there was a sharpness in the way he carried himself, like a blade that had dulled on the surface but not forgotten how to cut. His hands were scarred, the knuckles knotted from years of use; his posture was deceptively relaxed, but Satoru's instincts screamed that this man had once been a shinobi.
Satoru thought, 'He seems like the kind of guy who's probably seen half his squad killed, survived it, then retired here to babysit scrolls. Makes sense. You don't get that kind of steel in your eyes just from telling kids to be quiet all day.'
The librarian closed his book and gave Satoru a surprisingly warm smile. "How can I help you, young man?" His voice was gravelly but kind, like a grandfather greeting a child.
Satoru hesitated for a heartbeat, then squared his shoulders. "I… want to learn some jutsus."
The old man's brows rose slightly. "Jutsus, eh? Ambitious one, aren't you?" He chuckled softly. "Tell me, which second-year group are you with?"
Satoru froze for a moment. 'Second year?'
Right. Of course. Most kids probably only started learning jutsu after their first year of theory. Carefully, he shook his head. "Actually… I'm from the new batch. Just entered the academy this week."
The librarian blinked. His glasses slid slightly down his nose as he leaned forward.
"You're a first-year?" His tone carried genuine surprise.
"Yes,"
"You want to learn jutsu already?" The man tilted his head, studying him as though Satoru had grown a second one. Then his eyes narrowed just slightly.
"What's your full name, boy?"
Satoru swallowed. He hadn't prepared for this. Still, he kept his voice even. "Satoru. Just Satoru."
For the briefest moment, the librarian's face shifted—surprise, realisation, something unreadable flickered through his eyes. But just as quickly, he smoothed it away, returning to a calm expression.
"I see. Well then… follow me."
Satoru's curiosity spiked immediately. He trailed behind as the man led him through the aisles, his short frame moving surprisingly fast for someone his age.
They entered a different wing of the library, this one quieter, dimmer, and distinctly heavier in atmosphere. The shelves here were lined not with books, but with scrolls of varying sizes, each bound with colored strings and marked with inked symbols.
Satoru's eyes widened. The sheer number of scrolls stretched on, row after row.
"This place is huge," he whispered before he could stop himself.
The librarian gave a low chuckle. "Hold your horses, boy. Since you're still an academy student, your access is limited. Don't go letting your imagination run wild."
Satoru nodded, though inwardly he smirked. 'Makes sense. Keep the power under lock and key. That way, the Hokage can hand out access like rewards, build loyalty.'
The librarian stopped before three modest shelves tucked into the far corner. "These are the ones you may choose from. Nothing more. Nothing less. If you so much as touch the others…" He paused, and though his tone was mild, there was steel in his eyes.
"I'll know."
Satoru raised his hands innocently. "Understood."
"Good. You have ten minutes. Pick wisely." With that, the man turned and shuffled back toward the entrance, leaving Satoru alone with the scrolls.
Satoru exhaled slowly, rubbing his palms together.
"Alright… let's see what the kiddie section has to offer."
He crouched down, scanning the labels. Almost immediately, his heart sank. Nearly all of them were marked E-rank.
"Figures," he muttered. "Bottom of the barrel."
He unrolled a few at random.
'Chakra Spark: A tiny, completely useless jutsu that makes a spark between your fingers.'
Another scroll: 'Dust Cloud Technique: Kick the ground really hard while channelling chakra to make the dust slightly thicker. Warning: effectiveness depends on how dirty the floor is.'
Satoru rolled his eyes. "Amazing. Imagine spending months practicing this just to get sand in someone's eyes."
He picked up another: 'Rock Balancing Art: Channel chakra into pebbles to stack them perfectly on top of each other. Improves focus. Completely impractical in combat unless your enemy is really impressed by towers of rocks.'
Satoru slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. "I swear, these are jokes, right? Someone slipped prank scrolls in here."
Still, he kept looking. Among the useless clutter, a few gems stood out: Clone Jutsu. Transformation Jutsu. Substitution Jutsu. Exactly what he had been hoping for. He tucked those aside immediately.
But then, tucked between two unmarked scrolls, his eyes caught something familiar. He pulled it free, heart beating faster.
Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique.
Satoru's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't just any jutsu. This was the jutsu. The Uchiha clan's signature move, the technique that had become synonymous with their name.
He unrolled it carefully, scanning the elegant ink strokes detailing the hand seals: Horse → Tiger → Ram → Monkey → Boar → Horse. Diagrams showed chakra moulding instructions, notes about lung capacity and chakra compression.
A slow grin spread across his face. "Now this… this is worth it."
Minutes later, he returned to the librarian's desk with four scrolls tucked under his arm. The old man looked up, arching a brow.
"Decided, have you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let's see them."
Satoru handed the scrolls over. The librarian adjusted his spectacles, unrolling each one in turn. "Clone Jutsu. Transformation Jutsu. Substitution Jutsu. Sensible picks for a first-year." He nodded approvingly, then reached for the last one.
The writing was small, hard for him to see in the fading light. He squinted. "And this one is…?"
"The Fireball Jutsu," Satoru said quickly, voice calm but firm.
The librarian froze for a heartbeat, eyes flicking up at him. But he said nothing, only rolled the scroll back up with a quiet hum. "Ambitious," he murmured.
Satoru smiled faintly, his heart hammering in his chest. 'If I'm going to walk this path, I may as well do it in flames.'
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