Akira slid open the door to Class 3-A, met immediately by the usual morning racket of shouting kids, sliding chairs, and flying paper balls.
As he stepped across the threshold, a few heads turned toward him. A couple of months ago, his match against Itachi would have triggered an instant chorus of whispers, jealous glares, or eager questions. But after being spotted walking around the Uchiha compound with Izumi a few times, the class dynamic had shifted. Naturally, the immature rumor mill went to work, labeling him as an "Uchiha sympathizer," and most of his classmates now preferred to sneer or curse behind his back from a safe distance.
Akira let out a quiet sigh, stepping past the chatter and heading toward his seat near the back window. The faint ostracization didn't bother him in the slightest—it actually made his mornings blissfully quiet.
"Good morning, Akira!"
A cheerful voice broke through his thoughts as he reached his row. Sitting at the adjacent desk was Ami, a civilian-born student with light hair who was one of the few classmates willing to talk to him normally.
"Morning, Ami," Akira replied, offering a relaxed smile as he sat down. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a neatly folded stack of handwritten paper and set it on her desk. "Here are the notes on the basic Three Academy Techniques you asked for last Friday. I broke down the hand seal flow and chakra distribution points to make the Transformation and Substitution easier to grasp."
Ami's eyes lit up with genuine gratitude as she took the pages. "Thank you so much, Akira! You're a lifesaver!" She immediately unfolded the sheets, eagerly diving into the tidy handwriting.
Watching her study, Akira leaned back in his chair, twirling a pencil between his fingers.
In this world, advanced ninjutsu was strictly guarded by the village leadership, while clans hoarded their secret techniques like dragon treasure. For civilian-born kids like Ami, acquiring a single C-rank technique required years of grinding low-level missions to earn enough village merit points just to request a scroll from the Hokage's administrative office. Luckily, as long as he was just helping a classmate with standard Academy fundamentals, no clan elder or village official could raise an issue.
Setting the thought aside, Akira flipped his notebook open to a blank page. He pressed his pencil against the paper and began drawing intricate, precise geometric lines. The design wasn't complete yet, but it depicted a thick metallic hoop covered in densely packed, interlocking sealing formulas. Each rune was drawn with accuracy, forming a complex array designed to funnel and condense high-density chakra without bursting.
He spent the next half-hour adjusting the rune spacing until Chunin Daikoku slid the front door open with a loud thud, launching straight into a dry lecture on how the Second Shinobi World War ended. Akira didn't bother opening his history book—he had memorized the village archives months ago. Instead, he kept his head down, his pencil gliding smoothly over the paper as he continued refining the hoop diagram.
By the afternoon, the class moved outdoors for physical drills—shuriken and kunai target throwing, high-speed running, pole climbing, and maneuvering through an obstacle course while dodging wooden swinging beams. Akira went through every exercise with practiced ease, holding his effort to a modest middle-of-the-pack performance that kept him off the instructor's radar.
When the bell rang at 4:00 PM, Akira spotted Izumi tying her dark hair back near the entrance. He walked past, offering a light wave and a relaxed smile. "See you tomorrow, Izumi."
"See you tomorrow, Akira!" she replied with a bright nod.
Leaving the Academy grounds, Akira took a short detour through the bustling commercial district, stopping in front of his largest property shop. Passing through the busy storefront, he made his way to the private back office, where the elderly store manager—a white-haired civilian everyone affectionately called Grandpa—was going over the daily ledger.
Seeing Akira walk in, the old manager set his pen down and offered a warm bow. "Welcome, Young Master Akira."
"Hello, Grandpa," Akira greeted softly. "Did the shipment come through?"
"Yes, Young Master," the old man replied, pulling a heavy brass key from his vest pocket. He unlocked a hidden compartment beneath his wooden desk, carefully pulling out a thick wooden crate bound with steel straps. "The chakra metal you requested from the Land of Iron has arrived safely. However, due to strict export limits, the merchant could only secure 3.6 kilograms."
As he set the crate on the desk with a heavy thud, the old manager couldn't help but marvel internally.
"I still can't fathom why the Young Master needs such a precious material... A single kilogram costs an absurd fortune! The total bill came to nearly 180 million ryo. Thank goodness he provided those ancient raw diamonds from his family's vault to cover the payment, otherwise our shop's working capital would have been drained dry!"
Akira stepped forward, inspected the unbroken wax seals on the crate, and picked up the package. Despite its modest size, the dense metal gave the box a solid thud.
"Everything looks perfect," Akira said, offering the old man an appreciative nod. "Thank you for handling the transaction discreetly, Grandpa."
"It is my duty, Young Master. Do take care on your way home."
Akira tucked the heavy package under his arm and left the shop. He knew buying chakra-conductive metal directly from the Land of Iron was a massive financial drain—costing roughly 200 million ryo once black-market transport fees were factored in. But using a handful of raw diamonds from his ancestral inheritance was a small price to pay for a material that could perfectly channel his Ice Release chakra.
By the time Akira reached his villa compound, Sister Ren had already finished her evening duties and departed for her own home.
Checking the backyard, he saw Snowy resting quietly on her ice slab while Po sat near the pond, snoring softly with his spectacles still lopsided on his nose and his finished homework pages neatly stacked beside him. Akira chuckled, patted both of his sleeping beasts, and headed inside to cook a quick dinner for himself.
After finishing his meal and washing the dishes, Akira descended down to his private study.
With a quick flick of his wrists, he summoned two Shadow Clones. "One of you focus on high-density chakra control exercises, and the other work on refining elemental nature transformation speed."
"Got it," both clones replied in unison, stepping off to the side to begin their respective training sessions.
Setting the heavy wooden crate onto his desk, the real Akira pulled out a tool, popped the steel straps open, and lifted the lid to reveal the gleaming bar of raw chakra metal.
Picking up his pen, Akira opened his notebook to the hoop diagram he had drafted during class and began calculating the precise melting point and sealing array density needed to forge his new weapon.