Chapter 1: The First Breath of a New Life
The first thing I noticed was how bright the room was.
Not spiritually. Literally.
Sunlight poured in from the windows of the Academy classroom, catching motes of dust that danced in the air like tiny chakra sparks. Wood desks, some carved with names and doodles, creaked beneath fidgeting students. A wall scroll bearing the Will of Fire hung beside a blackboard that hadn't been cleaned properly in weeks.
This was the Hidden Leaf Ninja Academy. And somehow, I had been reincarnated as Iruka Umino—on his first official day teaching Naruto Uzumaki's class.
Only… I wasn't just Iruka.
My soul carried memories from another world. A world where this was fiction. Where these kids were characters in a manga. But now, they were real. Living, breathing—and my students.
And I wasn't empty-handed. Along with my memories, I woke up with three incredible gifts:
All Breathing Styles from Demon Slayer—techniques that shaped every inhale and exhale, every twitch of muscle and pulse of focus.
10% of Yamcha's template—a taste of raw martial instinct, ki control, and wolfish agility.
And, strangest of all, the 100% Yukihira Soma template—a complete chef's soul, with battle-ready creativity, explosive flavors, and near-psychic kitchen intuition.
They weren't just powers. They were teaching tools.
And that was the final twist: I couldn't gain power by training alone. If I wanted to unlock anime techniques from other worlds, I had to teach. Help my students grow. Earn connection. And only by growing with them would those techniques evolve.
Not bloodlines. Not kekkei genkai. Just effort, understanding, and mutual development.
The stakes were high. But right now, the biggest challenge in front of me?
A chalkboard.
I turned to face my class.
Naruto Uzumaki was lying sideways on his desk, poking the kid next to him—Shikamaru, who looked half asleep. Sasuke sat near the window, pretending not to notice the girls staring at him. Sakura and Ino were already whispering about how cute he looked when he scowled.
I picked up a stick of chalk—and it broke in my hand.
Perfect.
I calmly grabbed another.
"My name is Iruka Umino," I said, writing my name in clean strokes. "As of today, I'm your homeroom teacher. I'll be with you through your final year at the Academy. If you're expecting long speeches and silent classrooms… you're in the wrong village."
That got a few chuckles. Not bad for a first line.
"I believe in three things: growth, teamwork, and food. You'll get plenty of all three in this class."
Naruto raised his hand, then spoke without waiting. "Do we have to learn teamwork?"
"Yes."
"Even with Sasuke?"
"Especially with Sasuke."
Sasuke scoffed. Naruto groaned. I smiled and tapped the board again.
"We're starting simple today: chakra control, partner exercises, and a group lunch you're going to help make."
The room blinked at me.
"Wait," Choji said, lifting his head slightly. "Did you say lunch?"
"I did," I replied, pulling a small scroll from my pouch. "I'm also your cooking instructor."
---
Ten minutes later, we were in the open practice yard behind the classroom. The ground was warm from the morning sun, and the training dummies loomed like bored scarecrows.
"First up: chakra control," I said, kneeling and unsealing a stack of chakra paper from my scroll. "Each of you will focus your chakra into one of these slips. It won't tell you your bloodline, but it'll show how your chakra behaves."
Just behaves. No mention of elements or bloodlines. I wasn't going to mimic kekkei genkai anyway—no point teasing power I couldn't touch.
Naruto was first, of course. He grinned and snatched a slip.
He squeezed his chakra too hard—almost like punching it.
The paper crumpled up and wrinkled like it had been in his back pocket for a week.
"Well, that's… something," I muttered, studying the way the edges folded inward. "Strong chakra, but unfocused. Let's try redirecting it."
"How?"
I sat cross-legged in front of him. "Follow my breathing."
I closed my eyes and let Water Breathing – First Form: Surface Slash fill my lungs—not the attack, but the controlled rhythm behind it. Calm. Measured. Flowing like a stream under ice.
"Match this rhythm. Count four in, four out."
Naruto frowned. Tried. Failed.
Tried again.
The paper fluttered slightly in his hand this time.
"Good," I said. "Not perfect. But that's the first step."
As I spoke, I felt it—a whisper in my lungs. A faint echo. Not from Naruto, but from the act itself. Teaching him how to regulate his energy… it connected us. Not his chakra nature, but the rhythm. The lesson.
That's how I grow, I realized. Technique by technique. Not stolen. Shared.
Next came Hinata. Shy and cautious, her chakra paper barely moved. I didn't push. I guided. Soft voice. Even softer breathing.
When she smiled at her gently trembling slip, Ino muttered something about "teacher's pet." I caught her gaze and gestured her forward.
Ino's chakra flared wild. She didn't know how to scale it back.
"Let me guess," I said, tossing her a cloth. "You're the type who jumps into a pool without checking the water."
"Only if I'm trying to win," she said, lifting her chin.
"Then let's work on not drowning while you're at it."
Laughter erupted around us. She blushed but didn't argue.
And there it is, I thought. Engagement. The true battlefield for any teacher.
---
By mid-morning, I had every student's attention. Not through fear. Not through scolding. Through involvement.
Then came the real test.
I unsealed a small camp stove, a portable counter, and a tub of prepared ingredients. The students stared.
"I said we'd be cooking," I told them, slipping on a white cloth apron. "You're learning basic field nutrition. Today's challenge is simple: prepare lunch using what's here. You'll split into teams. Creativity counts."
Sakura raised a hand. "What does this have to do with being a ninja?"
"Everything," I said. "When you're half-dead in a tent, miles from camp, and your teammate's bleeding, you'll need the energy to think. To keep going. Nutrition is survival. Teamwork is survival."
"Food fight!" Naruto yelled, already holding an onion.
"Throw it and I'll make you chop ten," I said without looking up.
He froze. The class giggled again. Sasuke rolled his eyes—but walked over to start cutting quietly.
They followed. Grumbling. Curious.
And as we cooked—overburnt rice and slightly sweetened soup—I watched them begin to act like a unit.
Even if only for a moment.
---
After class, I stayed behind to clean. The blackboard was smudged. The desks were stained. My apron was spotted with sauce.
I didn't mind. It was worth it.
"Yo, Iruka."
I turned.
Anko Mitarashi stood in the doorway, dango stick between her fingers, one eyebrow raised. "Heard you fed Naruto and taught him how to sit still. You sure you're not using genjutsu?"
"No tricks," I said, setting down the rag. "Just breathing and food."
She smirked. "You're weird. I like it."
"Hungry?"
She hesitated.
"…What kind of food?"
"Spicy fried rice. Little crispy on the edges. Might light up your afternoon."
She stepped inside. "You cook for all your coworkers?"
"Nope," I said, cracking an egg into the pan with one hand. "Just the ones who might stab me for fun."
She grinned wide.
And with that, the first day ended—not with a fight, but a meal.
A quiet victory.