The sun was beginning its slow descent when I finally arrived back at the orphanage. The familiar scent of place and the faint chatter of children filled the air as I made my way to the backyard.
Laughter rang out in the open space behind the orphanage, a few of the younger kids running around, sparring playfully with exaggerated movements.
Their self-proclaimed 'training' was little more than wild punches and clumsy kicks, but I wasn't about to call them out on it.
They had enthusiasm, and that counted for something.
Weaving through them unnoticed, I reached the far end of the training ground where a particular patch of dirt remained untouched by the chaos the children wrought.
No one dared trespass there. Not because I had warned them against it, but because I had made it clear—both in words and action—that this space was mine alone.
Stopping in front of a barely visible marking on the ground, I crouched and pressed my palm to the center of the seal and passed chakra through and a faint shimmer spread outward, illuminating the markings before a translucent pale blue barrier flickered into existence around the training area.
It was a simple privacy seal, nothing fancy. Just something to keep out wandering kids and their noise.
Stepping inside, I settled down cross-legged at the center, resting my hands on my knees. I closed my eyes, allowing the barrier's faint hum to fade into the background.
Then I breathed.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
Meditation had long since become part of my daily routine.
It was my way of centering myself, of aligning my thoughts with my body. A still mind led to precise movements. That was a fundamental truth in both martial arts and combat.
Thirty minutes passed in silence.
When I finally opened my eyes, I let out a slow exhale and stood up. My muscles were loose, my mind clear. It was time.
Slipping into a stance, I began running through a series of katas.
Each movement was purposeful. A step forward—controlled. A shift in weight—measured. A strike—precise.
This was more than just practice. It was refinement. The act of sharpening one's techniques, of honing the body into a weapon.
As I moved, I could feel it.
A slow but steady increase in my chakra reserves.
It wasn't dramatic, nothing overwhelming, but the accumulation was undeniable.
Chakra and Internal Energy have a lot in common, after all.
The thought surfaced naturally, slipping into my mind like an old realization reexamined under a new light.
In my past life, the concept of internal energy, or Ki, had been a major component in various martial arts novels and manhwa.
It was the life force cultivated through rigorous training, a power that could strengthen the body and enhance physical prowess.
Chakra wasn't much different.
Both required refinement through practice.
Both demanded discipline and control.
And both—when honed to their peak—could push a human being beyond their natural limits.
In a way, the ninja of this world had taken internal energy cultivation and weaponized it into something far more… structured.
Yet, despite that structure, I couldn't help but notice something odd.
Martial arts or Taijutsu itself was somewhat undervalued in this world.
Not ignored entirely, but definitely overshadowed by the sheer dominance of Ninjutsu.
With chakra enabling all sorts of supernatural feats, many saw Taijutsu as a secondary skill—a backup rather than a primary form of combat.
The same went for Genjutsu.
No wonder Might Guy was so powerful after his Eight Gates Release.
The thought sent a ripple through my mind.
Guy-sensei was an anomaly in the shinobi world.
He didn't rely on flashy Jutsu. He wasn't born with a bloodline ability. He had no Kekkei Genkai, no unique talent that put him above the rest.
And yet, he became a monster in his own right.
Through sheer martial skill, he had reached a level where he could fight gods.
It wasn't just about brute strength—it was about maximizing the body's potential.
The Eight Gates weren't just a technique; they were proof that Taijutsu, when taken to the absolute limit, could rival the strongest Ninjutsu.
That thought…
It was an intriguing one.
Now that I think about it…aren't the two so-called auxiliary parts what brought the World to its heels?
I mean…The Mugen Tsukuyomi is a Genjutsu and Eight Inner Gate is a Taijutsu.
Damn.
I slowed my movements, coming to a gradual stop. My body still thrummed with the echoes of exertion, but my mind was racing with a new idea.
A personalized martial art.
One tailored to me, refined by my own understanding of chakra and body mechanics.
The idea was fresh, unformed, but the seed had been planted.
I wasn't a genius to create a Jutsu from nothing so I shelved it for now. There were other priorities to handle first.
Tomorrow, Hina will have a list of purchasable techniques available in the market.
Once I saw what was on offer, I'd start piecing together something new.
A martial style that wasn't just an imitation of the past, but an evolution of it.
A style built on efficiency, refinement, and power.
A style worthy of a true warrior.
For now, though, I let the thought settle as I deactivated the barrier and made my way back inside.
Tomorrow will bring new opportunities.
Ninjutsu. Genjutsu. Taijutsu and Fuinjutsu. If I could create something like a Heavenly Demon Arts that encompassing all these…perhaps I can finally rest easy in this godforsaken world.
Hmm. Now that I think about it, isn't Senjutsu another form of Spiritual Energy Cultivation?
Fuck no. I ain't gonna open that can of worms yet. I still got a bright future ahead of me. I ain't keen on turning into a natural resource yet…perhaps in a hundred years but now? Nah.
…
Dinner was the usual chaos. Kids running around, voices overlapping, and someone almost knocking over a pot—again. If I had a ryo for every time I had to grab a pot mid-fall, I'd be rich. Well… richer.
But, as always, we made it work.
Hoshino-san handled most of the cooking, but I helped with the prep work—chopping, stirring, occasionally dodging a flying spoon. The kids clung to me like hungry parasites, making jokes, asking questions, and generally treating me like the orphanage's resident older brother.
It was exhausting.
It was familiar.
It was home.
After dinner, the younger kids were tucked into bed while the older ones finished cleaning up. Once everything was settled, I finally made my way outside for some real training.
Alright, so technically, I wasn't supposed to be messing around with this near the orphanage. Something about "potential structural damage" and "Murakami, I swear if you break another wall—" blah blah blah.
Look, I was being responsible. Sort of.
The technique itself was getting better. At first, my control was garbage—random bursts of air knocking me back more often than my target. But now? I could direct the force properly, even adjust the pressure.
A short burst for a quick impact, a larger one to send someone flying. The range was still a bit… inconsistent, but I wasn't out here trying to level mountains.
Yet.
As for Genjutsu…
Now this was something I was genuinely excited about.
Genjutsu wasn't as flashy as Ninjutsu, nor as immediately deadly as Taijutsu, but damn if it wasn't effective.
The idea of bending perception, of making someone see, hear, and feel something that wasn't real? That was an art form.
At first, my illusions had all the stability of a cheap knockoff painting, blurry, inconsistent, easy to break out of.
But I was getting better.
The images were clearer now, more convincing. I could maintain the effect for longer, and even small details, like sound distortions or temperature shifts, were beginning to feel more natural.
It wasn't perfect. Strong-willed opponents would still snap out of it faster than I liked, but for the average person?
They wouldn't even realize they were trapped until it was too late.
Note to self: Find some poor bastard to test this on in actual combat. Preferably someone who won't kill me for it.
With training wrapped up for the night, I made my way back inside.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting. Hina should have the list of available techniques by now, which meant one thing—shopping for new Jutsu.
It was a weird thought. A few months ago, I wouldn't have even considered spending money on scrolls, but after that conversation with the kids… well, why not?
If I was going to get stronger, I might as well do it properly.
With that, I crashed onto my futon, shutting my eyes.
Tomorrow was another day. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was about to get very expensive.
Oh-ho-ho, now that's something to look forward to.
***
A/N: Short Chapter…Just like Murakami over here, I really need to get some shut eye. Had a stressful day today…So I guess I'll see y'all tomorrow.