Along the way, Saitama held tightly to the scroll labeled Chakra Refinement Technique.
In the world of shinobi, what separates a ninja from an ordinary person?
The answer was clear to Saitama: Chakra.
To him, chakra was the very boundary between the mundane and the extraordinary. Without chakra, you're just a civilian. With it, you're something more.
But where does chakra come from?
According to the scroll, and from what Saitama could recall from his previous life, chakra was composed of three elements:
1. Physical energy, produced by the body's cells.
2. Spiritual energy, strengthened through experience and training.
3. Natural energy—a rare and dangerous power drawn from nature itself, which was beyond his current reach.
The scroll explained that the human body contained trillions of cells, and each cell could generate chakra when trained properly. What Saitama held now was a basic but essential document passed down within the Uchiha clan—teaching beginners how to extract and mold chakra.
He'd read the scroll over a dozen times by now. With his enhanced memory, he had memorized the process step-by-step. But memorization wasn't mastery. He'd never actually tried to refine chakra—until tonight.
After reading through it one last time to confirm he hadn't missed anything, he carefully rolled it up and set it aside. Then he sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, closed his eyes, and slowly began to regulate his breathing.
Because of his regular cleaning, the room still smelled faintly of soap and fresh paper, not old dust. The tatami beneath him was warm from the day's sun.
Following the scroll's instructions, Saitama calmed his mind and tried to enter a meditative state. In the shinobi world, this was often called entering a state of stillness—a necessary mindset for chakra refinement.
His thoughts cleared.
He visualized the energy flowing within his body—tiny sparks, dormant yet waiting to be tapped. There was no breeze in the room, but Saitama felt a subtle warmth rise through his limbs. It was as if sunlight in winter had touched his skin—soft, gentle, and exhilarating.
This was chakra. His chakra.
Even though he'd read about it, actually feeling it was something else entirely.
With focused intent, he followed the technique described in the scroll—channeling the chakra toward his chakra network, primarily centering it in the tenketsu points near the lower abdomen. This process created a foundation for storage and circulation.
The benefits were twofold: first, it helped establish control and regularity in chakra flow; second, it prepared the body to store increasingly larger amounts over time.
A trickle of chakra followed his will.
This was it—the first step. His real beginning as a ninja.
From there, the rest came more easily. He repeated the cycle—drawing energy from his body, combining it with intent, then guiding it into circulation. His core grew warmer. His breathing lightened. Every part of him felt slightly energized, as if he'd just woken from a refreshing nap.
And remarkably—it felt easy.
According to the scroll, most children took several days or even a week to refine chakra for the first time. But for Saitama?
He wasn't sure how long it had taken—one minute, five? All he knew was that the process felt natural. Every step matched perfectly with the theory. This... was the talent the so-called "god" had promised him before his reincarnation.
Time passed unnoticed. When he finally opened his eyes, his muscles relaxed, and he stretched out his legs with ease. No stiffness. No soreness.
His chakra had reached its initial limit for now.
Saitama could feel it in his body—a sense of warmth in his tenketsu, a fullness like he'd eaten well or basked too long in the sun. His body was still young, and overloading it with chakra could be dangerous. He knew better than to push too far.
He stood up quietly, tidied the room, and carefully returned the scroll to its shelf.
With a soft click, he closed the heavy wooden door to the third floor and made his way back down to his room.
The sky outside the window was dark, and judging from the silence, it had to be well past midnight. He'd started practicing around seven or eight—this first meditation session had lasted hours.
"Better not sleep in tomorrow," he murmured to himself. "I promised Shisui I'd treat him to dango. Can't flake out now."
Back in his room on the second floor, he washed his face, soaked his feet in warm water, and changed into the green dinosaur-print pajamas that Granny KaKa had bought for him last month. Then, quietly, he slipped into bed.
"If I don't wake up early, she's definitely going to nag again."
---
Early the next morning, sounds drifted up from downstairs.
Granny KaKa had risen early, as always, preparing breakfast.
Saitama cracked open one eye and groaned. The curtains still filtered in just a faint blue glow—it couldn't be later than six.
Reluctantly, he got up, changed clothes, washed up, and made his way to the kitchen.
On the table: his favorite—seaweed onigiri, each filled with tenderloin, just the way he liked them.
Granny KaKa never failed to indulge his little preferences. They weren't short on supplies, and she always said, "A growing boy should eat what makes him happy."
Saitama smiled as he sat down to eat, the warmth from the kitchen wrapping around him like a blanket.