The first four months of the Academy semester passed in a blur. I did my established routine religiously. Wake up. Bind the weighted straps to my limbs. Attend classes. Exchange study guides with Ken. Train until my muscles threatened to tear. Sleep. Repeat.
Daiki had stopped suspecting me. He simply saw a war orphan with decent survival instincts. He left me alone, focusing his attention on polishing the clan heirs.
Which left me free to escalate my own curriculum.
I sat at my desk, near the back of the classroom, watching the rain beat against the windows.
"I don't understand how you do it" Ken whispered, staring blankly at the cryptographic cipher on his worksheet. "Every time I look at these symbols, my brain just turns to mush."
"You need to break it down to its basics." I murmured, my eyes fixed on the chalkboard where Daiki detailed the history of the Second Shinobi World War. I slid my notebook a few inches to the right, exposing the decoded cipher key.
Ken immediately began copying the key, his shoulders slumping in relief. "You're a lifesaver, Raijin. Seriously. My dad actually bought me a new set of kunai last week because my grades have been so high. He thinks I'm a late bloomer."
"Good" I said quietly, turning my head to look at him. "Speaking of blooming… you remember the woodworking hobby I have?"
Ken didn't even blink. He kept copying the cipher. "What about it? Did the base crack?"
"No, the base is fine. But I extended the structure." I kept the lie going, since it worked so well. "The fifty pounds of iron isn't enough to counterbalance the new length. When I pull it, the whole thing tips forward. I need more mass."
Ken paused, chewing on the end of his pencil. "More mass? Raijin, you already have fifty pounds of iron. What are you building?"
"It just needs stability." I deflected. "I need another twenty pounds. Can you get it?"
Ken hesitated for a bit, but his eyes darted down to the decoded worksheet I had provided him. He needed me to survive the Academy, and I needed his uncle's garbage to up my gains.
"Yeah, I can get it" Ken nodded, lowering his voice. "My uncle just got a massive shipment of iron for a new batch of swords. There's going to be plenty left over. Give me until Friday."
"Take your time."
I turned my attention back to the chalkboard, satisfied.
Seventy pounds.
When I integrated the new plates into my straps this weekend, the gravity would be agonizing. But I trusted my body to adapt to it. The fifty pounds had already become pretty bearable. My legs no longer shook when I stood up.
When I moved through the forest for training, I had to actively restrain myself from kicking up too far. My physical power was growing fast. Seventy pounds would push me to a new tier once again.
But raw power was useless if I couldn't avoid getting hit.
I needed a fail-safe.
Kawarimi.
When the final bell rang, I navigated to the library. I still had one technique I wanted to memorize before immersing myself in training.
The elderly librarian barely glanced at me as I flashed my student ID. I walked straight past the history aisles and into section B.
I pulled the scroll E-Rank: Transformation Technique (Henge), absorbing its contents before leaving the library.
I waited until midnight to begin the practical application.
I slipped out of my apartment, keeping my iron weights in the center of the room. I needed my speed for this. I moved silently across the village, going to a training ground.
I found a quiet clearing. I gathered three large logs of dead wood, placing them in the grass.
Standing next to them, I took a deep breath, dropping into a loose, ready stance.
I focused my mind on the log directly behind me, roughly eight feet away. I calculated its position, and formed the hand seals.
Tiger. Boar. Ox. Dog. Snake.
I engaged the pool of chakra in my core, routing it to the soles of my feet for the explosive launch, while focusing my energy toward the log.
Swap.
I pushed off the grass. The sheer power of my legs launched me backward. But my timing was entirely misplaced. I moved before the chakra had firmly gripped the log.
I flew backward, sailing blindly through the air, and slammed back-first into the log I was trying to pull forward.
I hit the dirt, gasping for air.
I stayed there for a few seconds, before forcing myself to stand up.
"Timing" I muttered aloud. "The physical launch and the spatial pull must be simultaneous."
I walked back to the center of the clearing. I mapped the log to my left.
Tiger. Boar. Ox. Dog. Snake.
I engaged the chakra. I visualized the swap. I pushed.
This time, I pulled the log too early. The piece of wood flew toward me before I had cleared the area. The bark smashed into my shoulder, knocking me sideways into the mud.
I simply stood up, brushed the dirt from my arm, and reset my stance.
Kawarimi was a technique born out of repetition. It required the mind to process two entirely different physical actions in the span of a heartbeat.
I spent the next four hours throwing myself around the clearing. I was battered by flying logs, and bruised from impacts with the dirt.
But slowly, I got the gist of it.
Around dawn, exhaustion pulled heavily at my limbs, but I reset my stance once more. I mapped the log in front of me. I formed the seals.
I imagined a blade swinging toward my neck.
Swap.
My feet were engaged. I launched to the right. Simultaneously, the chakra ripped the log from the grass, pulling it directly into the space my body occupied a second prior.
I landed on my feet, pivoting.
The heavy log hit the ground exactly where I had just been standing, a cloud of dust kicking up around it.
I exhaled a shaky breath, wiping a line of sweat from my chin. It wasn't perfect, the transition still lacked compared to the execution of elite shinobi, but it had work nonetheless.
I gathered the logs, rolling them back into where I found them and began my trek back to my apartment. I had gotten one more technique down.
The next few days at the Academy were marked by a strange tension.
It was mid-July. I walked into class, the seventy pounds weighing on me. I took my seat next to Ken, pulling my notebook from my bag.
I glanced toward my left.
I stared at the vacant desk. A sudden realization washed over me. I quickly scanned the room. The clan heirs were whispering among themselves, casting nervous glances toward the empty seat.
The door at the front of the classroom slid open. Daiki walked in.
"Take your seats" Daiki commanded.
The whispers died instantly.
Daiki walked to the podium and looked up, his eyes sweeping over us.
"As you have likely noticed, Uchiha Itachi is not present today." Daiki announced. "He will not be returning to classes. As of yesterday evening, Itachi has successfully passed the graduation exams. He has been promoted to the rank of Genin, and has officially entered the forces of Konoha."
Everyone gasped in surprise.
Ken's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Graduated? But… we've only been here for four months. We haven't even learned how to mold an elemental jutsu yet."
The clan children in the front rows looked visibly upset. They watched a boy their age complete the entire Academy's curriculum in a few weeks, dealing a devastating blow to their egos.
I didn't gasp. I just sat still, staring at the empty spot.
Daiki didn't allow the shock to linger. "Quiet." he barked. "Itachi is a genius. He is not the standard. Do not compare your progress to his. You are here to learn the fundamentals, and you will leave the Academy when you master them. With that said, open your textbooks."
The class hesitantly did as commanded, the atmosphere heavy.
I stared at the pages of my textbook, the words blurring together.
I wasn't jealous of Itachi.
But his sudden departure from the Academy served as an alarm bell ringing in my mind.
The timeline was moving.
In the repetitive isolation of my training, it was easy to forget that the world outside continued its own machinations. Itachi's early graduation was a major pillar of the canon.
He would be out there now, moving through the Genin ranks, gathering strength and the trauma that would eventually culminate in the slaughter of his entire bloodline. The political tensions were festering in the background of this village.
I was getting stronger. But time was a resource I could not scavenge.