Morning sunlight slanted through the academy's high windows, illuminating the classroom. The students sat at rough-hewn stone desks, the surface still radiating the night's chill. At the front of the room, Sunada Shun unrolled a small stack of square, specialized parchment.
"Today, we conduct chakra nature induction," Sunada announced, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Come forward in seating order."
Yotaka Arashi went first. He channeled his newly awakened chakra into the paper. The square sliced cleanly down the middle, and a second later, both halves crumbled into dry dirt. Sunada marked his clipboard.
The students followed one by one. Unsurprisingly, the vast majority displayed an affinity for Wind, or a composite involving it. When a skinny, nervous boy stepped up, his paper merely became damp and soggy. A murmur rippled through the class; Water affinity was notoriously difficult to develop in a desert village.
When Akasuna Yumi took the parchment, it split perfectly in two before the halves violently burst into flames, leaving nothing but ash on the instructor's desk. Sunada recorded the Wind and Fire affinities without a flicker of surprise.
Finally, Sengoku stepped forward. He took the paper and carefully fed his chakra into it. The square instantly severed down the middle, the two halves fluttering gently to the floor. Sunada noted the Wind affinity and gestured for the next student.
The testing concluded within twenty minutes. Sunada tapped his pen against his clipboard. "The afternoon session will be dedicated to taijutsu. Dismissed."
As the instructor left, the classroom erupted into chatter.
Arashi slammed a hand excitedly onto Sengoku's shoulder. "Did you see? I have Wind and Earth! The paper split and then crumbled!" He grinned broadly. "Since we both have Wind, we can practice jutsu together later."
"Let's master the basics first," Sengoku replied calmly, his face betraying no emotion.
Having a Wind affinity in Sunagakure was as common as sand. However, Sengoku had noticed a distinct detail during his test: the cut on his paper had been razor-sharp, leaving edges smoother than those of his peers. It was a subtle testament to the Intelligence point he had allocated the night before. His chakra control and density were already pulling ahead of the pack. He still didn't know the exact mechanics of Strength and Agility, but understanding his baseline was the priority.
By afternoon, the training grounds were baking under the desert sun. Waves of heat distorted the air around the wooden practice dummies lined up in the sand.
"We begin with basic physical combat," the taijutsu instructor barked, pacing before the students. He demonstrated a sequence: a straight punch, a high block, and a pivot dodge. The movements were stripped of all flair, designed purely for lethal efficiency. "Remember the kinetic chain. Power starts from the ground."
The students paired off or took to the dummies.
As Sengoku practiced, the true value of his enhanced mind shone through again. While his undernourished body lacked raw physical power, his brain instantly decoded the instructor's mechanics. His posture, the rotation of his hips, and the angle of his strikes were flawlessly executed. He couldn't hit hard yet, but his form was perfect.
When the academy day finally ended, Arashi wandered over, wringing his reddened wrists. "A new barbecue place opened up in the market. Want to go?"
"You go ahead," Sengoku said, adjusting his stance before the wooden dummy, sweat stinging his eyes. "I'm going to train a bit longer."
Arashi shrugged and jogged off to join the others. Soon, Sengoku was the only one left, his shadow stretching long across the cooling sand.
When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Sengoku stepped away from the dummy. But he didn't head home. Instead, he walked toward a towering, vertical sandstone wall at the edge of the training grounds.
It was time for the next step in chakra control. Applying the theories he had memorized, he focused a concentrated layer of chakra to the soles of his sandals and stepped onto the vertical surface.
On his first attempt, the chakra dispersed instantly, and he crashed hard into the dirt.
He analyzed the failure, adjusted the output, and tried again. On his tenth attempt, he managed to stick to the wall for three seconds before slipping.
By his twentieth attempt, he held on for five seconds.
He repeated the grueling process relentlessly. He climbed, fell, and climbed again until his chakra reserves were entirely tapped and his limbs felt like lead weights. He slumped against the base of the wall, gasping for air. In the moonlight, the skin on his palms was scraped raw, beads of blood mixing with the abrasive grit.
After choking down a dry ration bar, Sengoku forced himself into a meditative lotus position to replenish his exhausted chakra.
Once a fraction of his energy returned, he didn't stop to rest. He pulled the Chakra Thread Manipulation scroll from his pouch. Reading by the pale moonlight, he gathered chakra at his fingertip, attempting to spin it into a physical thread.
The reality of the technique was unforgiving. The chakra would stretch into a thin line for a fraction of a second before violently unraveling. Yet, every failure provided crucial data. Thanks to his heightened processing speed, Sengoku could clearly diagnose his mistakes: unstable output, a lack of pinpoint precision, and a wavering mental focus. The theory was sound, but his body and mind needed time to adapt to the execution.
Only when his vision began to blur from sheer exhaustion did he finally pack up his gear and drag his aching body home.
In his quiet room, Sengoku hastily bandaged his bleeding hands and ate the last of his rations. He sat at his desk, lit the oil lamp, and opened his meridian diagrams. His enhanced intellect allowed him to memorize the complex pathways perfectly, but he knew that bridging the gap between theoretical knowledge and physical mastery would require a brutal, endless grind.
He studied until the oil lamp finally sputtered and died, leaving him in darkness. Only then did he collapse onto his hard wooden bed, immediately falling into a dreamless sleep.