Walking hand in hand with his mother towards the Village Academy, Kuro noticed the bustling crowd around them.
It was the first day other parents were also bringing their children. Various hair colors mixed on the path towards the academy. Kids were sitting on their parents' shoulders, others holding their mothers' hands tightly.
After the creation of the academy under the Second Hokage, a few decades had slowly passed. Common villagers and a few clan members from the various families of Konoha now sent their children here regularly.
The academy created a constant stream of lifeblood ninjas under the direct Hokage's rule. It was from here that most of the Village ANBU and various departments mainly recruited their members, different from how the various clans volunteered their own to join.
Within the crowd, a young boy rode on his father's shoulder, high above the masses. The man held a woman his wife by the arm as they slowly made their way forward.
The young boy sat quietly atop the man, who seemed in his twenties, wearing normal pants and a dark blue shirt. The small child rested atop his father's head, enjoying the breeze and watching the stream of people ahead.
His eyes were filled with a slight gleam, containing a gaze unlike a child's. His parents had noticed it from his birth their son was quiet, very much so.
However, they seemed to slowly understand that this was just how the child was. Compared to others, he did things at his own pace.
The boy's name was Kuro Genki of the village Genki clan. His father was a jonin in the village who had taken time off to accompany him and his mother to his first day at the academy.
Looking to his left, he could see one of the great monuments the face of the Second Hokage etched into the cliffside.
The Second Hokage, Tobirama, was still alive. Since he didn't remember the timeline of various events perfectly, he would just have to take the challenges as they came.
Even with the knowledge of this world, he had made sufficient preparations. Whether it be practicing the various hand seals or meditating for a few hours to clear his mind, he'd even gone as far as suppressing his emotions voluntarily to approach this world with calm rationality.
As for the lack of cheerful emotion typical of a child his age, he showed his affection to his parents in another way just being a good son to both his mother and father.
Even so, he sometimes wondered if his adjustment and mental preparation for the best results in this world came at a cost. But one main thing mattered: survive this world.
He had even been thinking of suggesting to his parents to have another sibling, to give them the feeling of raising a normal child and lessen their worries.
Being an adult mind in a child's body due to reincarnation into the world of ninjas based on the anime and manga of that childhood series Naruto and Naruto Shippuden was strange.
He felt a hand squeeze his own, as if to get his attention.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked down. Even though he could only see hair from this angle, he said aloud, "What is it, old man?"
His mother covered her mouth in a chuckle. His father hated being called that after all, he was only in his mid-twenties.
But unknown to his father in this world, he had called his father in his old life just like this, rather than "dad" or "father" or "papa." It was just his way of showing affection for his old man in this world.
His father let out a sigh. "We've arrived," he said.
Looking to the right, Kuro saw the ninja academy in its grandiose splendour. It was a long, big building much bigger than he'd thought.
Probably because he was a kid and it would look less massive when he got older.
The massive open field before the academy was already filling with people. Parents clustered in groups while children darted between them, their voices blending into a quiet choir of excitement and nervous energy.
A few children greeted others they knew, whether by being neighbors or through their parents' connections. The air buzzed with anticipation.
His father carefully lifted Kuro down from his shoulders, setting him on the ground. Kuro's mother smoothed down his dark hair, a small smile on her face as she adjusted his collar. "There. Now you look presentable," she said softly.
Kuro nodded, his expression neutral. He'd already prepared himself mentally for this day.
The academy would be the foundation of everything his survival, his growth, his eventual strength in this world. He couldn't afford to be just another student.
The Genki clan was small, especially in the aspect of ninja matters.
The clan had once delved primarily in antiques of the ninja world basically merchants who opened stores catering to the wealthy of the nations. Through careful cultivation and strategic marriages over the years, they had managed to incorporate actual ninja into their clan, producing their own shinobi now.
Currently, the amount was about fifteen in total, of various ages and ranks. His father was one of the younger talents within their humble ninja roster compared to other ninja clans.
The Genki weren't known for kekkei genkai or secret techniques passed down through generations. They were known for their business acumen, their network of contacts, and their ability to acquire rare items.
But his father had changed that perception somewhat. Becoming a jonin from a merchant clan background was no small feat. It spoke of dedication, talent, and sheer determination.
His father scanned the crowd, his eyes sharp despite his relaxed demeanor. After a moment, he spotted a few acquaintances and began moving toward them, gently guiding Kuro by the shoulder. His mother followed close behind, her hand resting on Kuro's other shoulder.
"Takeshi!" his father called out, raising a hand.
A broad-shouldered man turned, his face breaking into a grin. He wore the standard chunin vest, and a young girl with pigtails stood beside him, clutching his hand nervously. "Genki Ryo! I was wondering if I'd see you here. So your boy is starting today too?"
"That's right," his father Ryo said, nodding down at Kuro. "This is my son, Kuro. Kuro, this is Takeshi. We served together on a few missions back in the day."
Kuro looked up at the man, offering a small, polite bow. "Nice to meet you, Takeshi-san."
Takeshi blinked, then let out a booming laugh. "Well, he's certainly got manners. More than I can say for this one." He ruffled his daughter's hair affectionately.
She squeaked in protest. "This is Hana. She'll be starting today too."
Hana peeked out from behind her father's leg, her cheeks pink. "H-hello," she stammered.
Kuro gave her a nod. "Hello, Hana-san."
His mother chuckled softly. "He's always so serious," she said, a note of fondness in her voice.
"Sometimes I wonder if he was born an old soul."
You have no idea, Kuro thought to himself.
Ryo clapped Takeshi on the shoulder. "How have you been? Still running patrol on the eastern sector?"
"For now," Takeshi said with a shrug. "Though with Hana starting at the academy, I'm hoping to get reassigned closer to the village. Can't have her growing up without her old man around, right?" He grinned down at his daughter, who smiled shyly.
As the adults talked, Kuro took the opportunity to observe his surroundings more carefully.
The field was vast, marked with white lines for training exercises. To the left, he could see a row of wooden training posts, their surfaces worn smooth from years of students practicing their strikes.
To the right, a series of targets stood at varying distances, likely for shuriken and kunai practice.
Beyond that, the academy building itself loomed three stories tall, with large windows that overlooked the field.
He could see movement inside, likely teachers preparing for the influx of new students.
Other families were scattered across the field. He recognized a few clan symbols on some of the adults the Uchiha fan, the Hyuga crest.
Those clans had their own private training, but they still sent their children to the academy for the basics and to integrate with the village structure.
"Kuro."
He turned his attention back to his father, who was gesturing to another man approaching them. This one was older, perhaps in his forties, with graying hair at his temples and a calm, measured expression. He wore a simple jonin vest and moved with the ease of someone long accustomed to combat.
"This is Yamada Kenji," his father said. "He's one of my mentors from when I first made chunin. Kenji-sensei, this is my son, Kuro."
Kenji looked down at Kuro with sharp, assessing eyes.
For a moment, Kuro felt as though he were being weighed and measured. Then the man's expression softened slightly. "Your father has told me about you. He says you're diligent."
"I try to be," Kuro replied simply.
Kenji nodded. "That's good. Talent can only take you so far in this world. Diligence and discipline will carry you much further." He paused, then added,
"Your father had neither talent nor a bloodline advantage when he started. But he worked harder than anyone else I've trained. That's why he's a jonin now."
Kuro glanced up at his father, who looked somewhat embarrassed by the praise. His mother smiled warmly, her hand squeezing Ryo's arm.
"Thank you, sensei," Ryo said. "I only got this far because of your guidance."
"Nonsense," Kenji said, waving a hand dismissively.
"I showed you the path. You walked it yourself."
He looked back down at Kuro. "I'll be watching your progress, boy. Don't disappoint your father."
"I won't," Kuro said.
Kenji studied him for another moment, then nodded and walked off toward another group of families.
His mother knelt down beside him, her expression gentle. "Are you nervous, Kuro?"
He considered the question. Nervous? Not particularly. Anxious about the unknown variables, perhaps. Concerned about how quickly he could advance through the academy curriculum, certainly. But nervous in the traditional sense? No.
"A little," he said instead, because that's what a normal child would say.
She smiled and pulled him into a brief hug. "You'll do wonderfully. Just be yourself."
That's the problem, Kuro thought. Being myself might draw too much attention.
His father crouched down beside them, his expression more serious now. "Listen, Kuro.
The academy is going to teach you the basics chakra control, taijutsu, basic ninjutsu, and tactics.
But remember what I've taught you at home. Always think three steps ahead. Watch your classmates. Learn from everyone, even if they seem weaker than you."
Kuro nodded. His father had been giving him these lessons for the past year, ever since it became clear he'd be attending the academy.
Small bits of wisdom, tactical advice, survival tips. Things that went beyond the standard curriculum.
"And most importantly," his father continued, his voice dropping lower, "don't reveal everything you can do. Keep some cards close to your chest. You never know when you'll need an ace up your sleeve."
"Ryo," his mother said, a note of warning in her voice.
"I'm just being realistic," his father said, standing back up. "This is a ninja village. Even the academy has politics."
Kuro understood perfectly. His father wasn't just talking about childish rivalries.
He was talking about clan dynamics, about teacher favoritism, about the subtle jockeying for position that would begin even among six-year-olds. The children of prominent clans would be watched more closely, given more opportunities.
The civilian-born students would have to work twice as hard for half the recognition.
And the Genki clan, despite having ninja now, were still seen as merchants first. Kuro would have to prove himself.
A bell rang out across the field, clear and sharp. The conversations died down as everyone turned toward the academy building.
A figure stood at the top of the steps a man in his thirties with a stern expression and a chunin vest. His voice carried across the field with practiced ease.
"Parents and students! Welcome to the Konohagakure Ninja Academy! I am Instructor Hayato, and I will be overseeing the first-year students' orientation today.
In a few moments, I will call for all new students to line up by the entrance.
Parents, you may stay and watch from the designated area, but once classes begin, we ask that you leave the grounds."
Kuro's mother squeezed his shoulder. His father gave him an encouraging nod.
"This is it," Ryo said quietly. "Your first real step as a shinobi."
Kuro looked up at the academy, at the building that would shape the next several years of his life.
He thought about the kekkei genkai dormant within him, about the black substance that he'd only recently begun to sense.
He thought about the future the wars, the conflicts, the powerful enemies that would emerge.
But most of all, he thought about survival.
"I'm ready," he said. And he was.