The ceiling of Wu's apartment was a damn tragedy. It was a rotting, water-logged canvas that currently wept freezing droplets directly onto his forehead. He lay shivering on a futon that was practically an insult to the concept of bedding, staring into the dark with heavy, bloodshot eyes.
'I am so hungryyyy' he thought, curling his knees to his chest. 'If I have to eat another bowl of plain rice and boiled weeds, I might actually bite someone.'
He shifted his weight, and a sharp, agonizing throb shot up his right forearm. He hissed through his teeth, clutching the bruised flesh. A mutated, venomous centipede had nearly taken his fingers off in the training grounds last night. His current body felt less like a weapon and more like wet paper stretched over glass bones.
"I hate this village," Wu whispered to the empty, drafty room. "I hate it so much."
To his left, a patch of darkness peeled itself off the damp floorboards. His shadow took a seated position, mimicking his slouched posture, before exaggeratedly clutching its head and rocking back and forth in a silent sigh of suffering.
Wu glared at it. "Don't give me that attitude. You're the one who completely missed the blind spot on that oversized bug. If you had just tripped it like we planned, I wouldn't currently feel like I was chewed on by a rabid dog."
The shadow stopped rocking, crossed its arms defensively, and pointed an inky, featureless finger directly at Wu's frail chest before pointing the himself as proof. Im a shadow, i cant even hurt a towel, the gesture clearly said.
"Fine. Yes. You are a pathetic stalker. Thank you for the reminder."
With a heavy groan, Wu closed his eyes, letting his consciousness sink beneath the miserable aches of his physical body and into the vast, silent expanse of his soul sea. He needed to check his progress. He needed to see the numbers to convince himself this suffering was actually doing something.
A string of ethereal, glowing runes materialized in the darkness.
[Name]: Wu Ri De
[True Name]: ███████
[Rank]: Dormant
[Shadow Cores]: 1/7
[Shadow Fragments]: 14/1000
[Attributes]
Fated: [The strings of fate are hopelessly tangled around you.]
Child of Shadows: [Shadows welcome you, hide you, and comfort you.]
Mr. Error: [A glitch in the tapestry of reality.]
Aspect: [Shadow Slave]
Aspect Rank: [Divine]
Aspect Description: [You are a miraculous shadow left behind by a dead god. As a divine shadow, you possess plenty of strange and wondrous powers. However, your existence is empty and lonesome; you mourn the passing of your former master and long to find a new one.]
Innate Ability: [Shadow Bond]
Aspect Ability: [Shadow Control]
Aspect Ability Description: [Your shadow is more independent than most. It is an invaluable helper.]
Flaw: [Clear Conscience]
Flaw Description: [You cant lie]
Memories: [Puppeteer's Shroud], [Silver Bell], [???]
[Puppeteer's Shroud]:
Memory Rank: Awakened.
Memory Type: Armor.
Memory Description: [A worm of doubt once found its way into a righteous king's heart. With time, the king was devoured from inside and became its puppet. A lifetime later, the Puppeteer Worm escaped from the king's dead body, leaving behind a cacoon of black silk. No one knows where it went; however, once people dared to approach the silent castle, they found the silk among the mountains of gnawed bones and fashioned it into an armor.]
Memory Tier: V.
Memory Enchantments: [Enhanced Durability] , [Doubtless] , [Blessing of Spirit]
[Doubtless]
Enchantment Description: [Provides the wearer with a small amount of protection against mind attacks.]
[Blessing of Spirit]
Enchantment Description: "This Memory enhances one's ability to endure and recover from mental fatigue."
[???]
Memory Rank: ???
Memory Type: ???
Tier: ???
Description: "You will die."
[Echoes]: —
He stared at the fragment counter. Fourteen out of a thousand.
Twenty-one days of sneaking out to the Forest of Death. He had to roll around in the mud, set up traps with stolen ninja wire and stab so… so many overgrown vermin with only a rusted kunai!Tetanus was not a thing in this world but still… he only had these mere amounts of fragments to show for himself.
And the worst part? He didn't even know what would happen when he hit a thousand. Would he evolve? Would he finally get stronger? Would he just explode from the strain? He had no idea. But whatever happened, it had to be better than remaining a frail, bottom-of-the-barrel Academy student with absolutely zero ninjutsu talent. If he stayed like this, he wouldn't even survive the graduation exam, let alone the apocalyptic wars he knew were coming.
"Right," Wu breathed, opening his eyes and banishing the runes. "Time to go"
He dragged himself upright, his joints popping in protest, and limped over to the cracked mirror hanging above his sink. The face staring back at him was a cruel joke. In an Academy filled with hardened legacies and future killers, he looked like a pampered, sickly noble who had gotten lost in the slums. He possessed flawlessly pale skin, striking dark eyes, and a delicate bone structure. It was the classic "jade beauty" look.
It was utterly useless. Looking pretty didn't stop a kunai from entering a lung. It just made the older kids try to bully him, thinking he was an easy mark.
Reaching into his soul sea, he willed his only real lifeline into existence. Brilliant white sparks violently coiled around his body, weaving themselves into the [Puppeteer's Shroud]. The dark-grey fabric settled over his skin, surprisingly soft and flexible, accompanied by the sturdy, soft-soled leather boots that molded perfectly to his feet. He threw his green shirt and black pants over the armor to hide it, strapped his rusty kunai's to his thigh, and walked out into the damp Konoha morning.
Since his natural chakra capacity was pathetic, his only option for survival was physical torture.
Ten minutes later, he was standing at the edge of one of the village's main training grounds, shivering in the mist. His stomach gave a hollow, painful rumble. 'Just put one foot in front of the other' he told himself. 'Do it so you don't die.'
"YOSH! A beautiful morning for the springtime of Youth!"
A green blur exploded past him, kicking up a massive cloud of dust that immediately settled directly into Wu's lungs. He hacked violently, doubling over. Behind him, his shadow dropped to its hands and knees, clutching its throat in mock agony.
Might Guy and his miniature clone, Rock Lee, skidded to a halt on the dirt track. They both sported matching bowl cuts, blinding white smiles, and hideous green spandex that violated several laws of decency.
"Ah! My youthful friend!" Guy boomed, striking a dynamic pose that made a vein in Wu's forehead throb. "Are you ready to let your blood boil with the passion of a thousand burning suns? Fifty laps around the village on your hands!"
Wu stared at the towering Jonin. Every muscle in his body ached. He desperately wanted to just nod politely, or perhaps turn around and walk silently back to his rotting apartment. He tried to close his mouth. He tried to bite his own tongue to keep the words in.
But the curse carved into his soul, his Flaw, hooked into his chest, ripping his mouth open.
"No," Wu groaned, his face scrunching up in misery. "I am severely malnourished! my bones feel like chalk, and looking at your green spandex makes me want to gouge my own eyes out"
Lee gasped, looking utterly horrified. Wu squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself to be yelled at or punted across the field.
Instead, Guy froze for a second before throwing his head back and laughing, literal tears of pure emotion streaming down his chiseled face.
"Such fiery, rebellious Youth!" Guy roared, giving Wu a blinding thumbs-up that caught the morning light. "He masks his desperate desire to improve behind a wall of irony and dark humor! Truly, a magnificent spirit! Another five hundred laps, Lee! We must match his burning intensity before he outpaces us!"
"Yes, Guy-sensei!" Lee shouted, dropping to the dirt and sprinting away on his hands, a trail of fire seemingly igniting in his wake.
Wu just let his head drop, rubbing his temples as his shadow mimicked the gesture of utter despair. 'Of course' he thought bitterly. 'I am surrounded by idiots… hmm that could be a good book name'
With a heavy, painful sigh, he began to jog, mentally preparing himself for the rest of his miserable day.
***
The Academy was, in Wu's professional opinion, a thinly veiled camp designed to turn loud, obnoxious super children into quiet, expendable weapons.
He sat in the middle row of the classroom, resting his chin in his hand, fighting a desperate battle against sleep. Iruka-sensei was at the front of the room, loudly explaining the mechanics of the transformation jutsu. Wu didn't care. His talent was so painfully average that trying to mold his meager reserves into a perfect illusion felt like trying to push a boulder up a hill with a wet noodle.
'I need to at least maintain a solid C-minus' he reminded himself, watching an eraser bounce off the head of a sleeping, blonde-haired boy a few desks down. Not the dead last. That attracts attention. Not the top. That attracts a Jonin sensei who will inevitably drag me into S-rank suicide missions. Just... forgettably average.
Unfortunately, being forgettable was proving difficult.
Wu felt a prickle on the back of his neck. He didn't need to turn around to know who was staring at him. Sasuke Uchiha was sitting two rows back, brooding in the shadows like a dramatic novel protagonist, shooting literal daggers at the back of Wu's head.
Wu let out a long, exhausted sigh. It was a complete misunderstanding. Three weeks ago, Wu had found a perfect, quiet dock by the river to fish for his dinner. Sasuke had been sitting there, brooding as usual. Wu had politely asked him to move. Sasuke had ignored him. Driven by hunger and a complete lack of self-preservation, Wu had thrown a rock, nailed the Uchiha squarely in the back of the head, grabbed a fish from the nearby bucket, and bolted into the trees before the boy could awaken his Sharingan from the sheer rage.
Sasuke had somehow interpreted the rock-throw as a high-level declaration of rivalry. Now, the prodigy watched his every move, convinced Wu was hiding his true, terrifying power beneath a veil of mediocrity.
'I am not hiding anything!' Wu thought miserably.
"Wu-kun?"
A voice snapped him out of his reverie. He blinked, looking to his right. Ino Yamanaka was leaning over her desk, twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger. Because of his cursed "jade beauty" aesthetics, the girls in the class occasionally tried to talk to him, usually right before trying to use him to make Sasuke jealous.
"What do you think of Sasuke's new shuriken form?" Ino whispered, her eyes darting toward the brooding Uchiha. "Isn't he amazing?"
Wu felt the familiar, terrible grip of his [Clear Conscience] Flaw seize his throat. He tried to just nod. But the pain built up inside him until he could not withstand it anymore.
"I don't care really, and you don't too. Kami, i know you people have the moto, 'only enough to kill, old enough to do whatever the fuck we want' but there is also something called prison…" Wu deadpanned, his face completely devoid of expression. "Also, his stance leaves his left entirely exposed, gosh such a rookie."
Ino stared at him, her mouth falling open in horror. Behind her, a pencil snapped in half. Wu winced. Sasuke had definitely heard that.
'Great. Perfect. Add ' assassination' to the list of things I need to worry about today.'
By the time the final bell rang, Wu was out the door before Iruka even finished his sentence. He practically sprinted through the village streets, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the Academy, heading straight for the commercial district.
The Higurashi Weapons Shop was quiet, smelling of hot iron, oil, and sawdust.
"I'm here, boss," Wu announced, grabbing a broom from the corner.
Tenten's father grunted an acknowledgment from the forge in the back. Tenten herself was sitting behind the counter, polishing a set of kunai. She looked up and smiled. "Hey, Wu. You look terrible."
"Thank you. I feel like a corpse," Wu replied honestly, sweeping up the dust near the display racks.
He worked in silence for an hour, his shadow detaching itself from his feet to lazily sweep a pile of dust into a dustpan, which obviously did not work. Tenten wasn't looking. When the floor was clean, he put the broom away and walked toward the back room with a smile.
This was his real payment. A wooden barrel sat in the corner of the back room, filled with defective, rusted, or improperly forged swords that were destined for the scrap heap.
Wu reached in and pulled out a chipped wakizashi. The grip was frayed, the balance was entirely wrong, and the edge was dull enough to bounce off a tomato. To Wu, it was beautiful.
He closed his eyes and gripped the hilt. Slowly, intentionally, he let his shadow creep up his leg, over his torso, and down his arm. The pitch-black darkness wrapped around his wrist, bleeding into the handle of the broken sword. He swung it.
Too slow' he analyzed, feeling the drag in his meager muscles. He swung again. The shadow snapped taut like a rubber band, violently accelerating the blade. The rusted metal whistled through the air, stopping an inch from the wooden wall.
"You're always staring at that junk," Tenten remarked, leaning against the doorframe. She looked at him with a mix of pity and amusement. "If you save up your pay for a few months, my dad could probably forge you a custom blade. Why do you obsess over the broken ones? We will even give a discount to such a cutie"
The Flaw forced his mouth open. "Because I have no money, absolutely zero ninjutsu talent, and if I don't learn as quickly as possible, I am going to die in a ditch before my sixteenth birthday."
Tenten laughed out loud, shaking her head. "You're so deadpan, Wu. It's hilarious. You almost sound like you mean it."
Wu just stared at her with unblinking eyes/
"Right. Hilarious… to you" he muttered the last part quietly, carefully placing the wakizashi back in the barrel.
Hours later, the sun dipped below the Hokage Monument, casting Konoha in long, deep shadows. For most, it was time for dinner and bed. For Wu, the real work was just beginning.
He slipped out of his apartment window, moving across the rooftops without making a single sound. The [Puppeteer's Shroud] hummed against his skin, the dark-grey fabric absorbing the moonlight, making him virtually invisible in the gloom. He headed north, toward the towering, jagged iron fence that quarantined Training Ground 44. The Forest of Death.
Wu didn't dare go deep inside. He wasn't suicidal. But the muddy, overgrown outskirts where the fence had rusted, that was a breeding ground for mutated wildlife that fed on the ambient, foul chakra of the forest.
Wu crouched in the branches of a towering tree, his dark eyes scanning the underbrush. His shadow detached itself, slithering down the trunk like an ink spill, spreading across the forest floor to act as an early warning system.
Crack.
A twig snapped. Wu held his breath.
Below him, a Razor-backed Boar pushed its way through the ferns. It was the size of a large dog, its spine lined with bone-white spikes, its tusks dripping with acidic saliva. A normal Academy student would run. A madmen might face it head one.
Wu didn't have either luxury. He had to fight like a rat.
He waited until the boar stepped over a thick root. Then, he moved.
Dropping silently from the branch, letting gravity do the work. Before the boar could even look up, Wu flicked his wrist, making a hidden trip wire pop up from the ground, just in front of the beast's front legs. The boar squealed, stumbling forward, its momentum betraying it.
Wu landed on its back. The impact jarred his fragile bones, sending a shockwave of pain up his spine, but he didn't hesitate. He slammed his kunai directly into the soft gap behind the boar's skull, right where the spine met the brain.
The beast thrashed violently, tossing Wu into the mud. He hit the ground rolling, scrambling backward, his chest heaving and his hands coated in hot blood. He stayed low, clutching the now bruised ribs, watching the boar kick and spasm until, finally, it lay still.
The forest went quiet, save for the dripping of the damp leaves.
A familiar, chilling voice echoed in his ears.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Razor-backed Boar.]
[Your shadow grows stronger.]
Wu sat in the mud, wiping the blood and sweat from his eyes. He summoned his runes, watching the ethereal text glow in the darkness.
[Shadow Fragments: 15/1000]
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped his lips. Fifteen. Nine hundred and eighty-five left to go. He looked up at the towering, terrifying trees of the Forest of Death, feeling incredibly small. The ninja world was vast, filled with demigods, monsters, and all kinds of jutsu's. He was nothing but a speck..
"Alright," Wu whispered to the shadows "Let's go find another one."