The Academy grounds were their usual blend of controlled disorder.
Murakami stepped into his classroom and made his way to his seat at the back end of the class, his thoughts still half-focused on last night's training, but he forced himself to shift gears.
Personal growth was important, but so was managing everything else.
As much as he preferred sharpening his skills alone, he wasn't naive enough to ignore the value of connections.
And the ones worth forming weren't random classmates, they had to be individuals who could matter later.
For the first time in a while, he let his attention drift away from his own path and toward the people who had been with him since the beginning of the year.
His eyes swept toward the usual corner of the room.
Aiko was being all chatty with her clique and Katsuro, the one perpetually lazy Nara slouched over his desk.
Sitting near Aiko's clique was Hana Hyūga who half-listened to whatever the group was discussing while maintaining a noble composure.
In the seat in front of her sat Rensuke Uchiha with arms crossed, sitting with a straight posture with a quiet confidence.
Beyond them, scattered among other desks, were more familiar faces.
Tsubaki Aburame, silent as ever, eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
Ryuji Inuzuka with his dog Kiba, Yukari Yamanaka, an easygoing and warm girl who also happened to be a part of Aiko's clique
She had a relaxed disposition that masked a surprisingly keen understanding of people, something Murakami noticed in the way she interacted with everyone.
Aiko spotted Murakami entering the class and just as he was scanning the class, her lips curved into a smirk.
"Look who finally decided to show up," she said, her voice carrying just enough amusement to draw the attention of the rest of the group.
Murakami turned his gaze to her and snorted. "I was busy. Some of us actually use our time productively."
Aiko stuck out her tongue but didn't retort as she already knew how Murakami used his time.
Kenji flipped his hair dramatically. "I'll have you know I'm very productive at doing nothing and I'm still strong."
"That's called being useless," Murakami replied without even looking at him.
"No, that's called mental peace," Kenji countered, glaring at Murakami. "And that's genius."
"Good for you." Murakami shrugged. Kids would still be kids no matter the era. "I think I'll relax when I'm dead."
From the side, another kid, Seiji let out a heavy sigh. "Pretty sure you don't even sleep properly."
"I sleep fine." Was Murakami short reply
"You are awake as early as 4 a.m.," Aiko chimed in.
Murakami waved her off. "Details."
Aiko sighed and shook her head. "You're really terrible at conversations."
Murakami looked offended. "I'm great at them. You're all just unable to grasp my charm."
"You don't have any," Kenji said.
Before Murakami could retort, Katsuro Nara's muffled voice drifted from his folded arms. "You're all loud. And exhausting."
Murakami scoffed. "You'd be less tired if you had ambition."
Katsuro opened one lazy eye. "My ambition is to work as little as possible and still pass everything. And I'm achieving that."
"That's called laziness."
"And yet," Katsuro mumbled, "I'm winning."
Murakami gave him a flat look. "My life depends on my discipline. Yours doesn't."
For a heartbeat, Katsuro's eye sharpened in understanding.
Then he shrugged. "Yeah, that's why I nap."
Without saying another word, he closed his eye and went back to being busy napping.
Murakami's lips curved up for a split second before returning to normal.
Some children in the shinobi world were born with advantages, while others had to claw their way up from nothing.
Murakami belonged firmly to the second category.
He wasn't a Hyūga blessed with the Byakugan or an Uchiha born with a Sharingan.
He had no overpowered clan techniques, no genetic destiny pushing him toward greatness.
He wasn't an Uzumaki with impossible chakra reserves or inhuman vitality.
He didn't carry the Senju's monstrous stamina or their natural affinity for ninjutsu.
His mind wasn't a living genjutsu weapon like the Kurama clan's shinobi.
And that was just in Konoha. There were many more kekkai genkai out there, especially in Kirigakure. Yet…
He was just Murakami. Haruki Murakami.
He might have a surname but that was just a name his father went by. It wasn't a clan name, not a legacy, not a banner of power or prestige.
Just a reminder that he wasn't part of the countless children born into a world with no records, no roots, and no history to claim as their own.
No safety net. No inherited power. Just discipline, effort, and a stubborn refusal to be left behind as a Normal.
Some would call that a disadvantage. Murakami called it motivation.
In this world, no one hands you a path to greatness. You stumble, you fall, you rise, and you keep going until you reach it.
Everything he had, he built with his own hands. And everything he would have, he would build with his own efforts.
Aiko sensed the subtle shift in his mood, left her seat and came to him. "So, what's the next step in your master plan? You always look like you're two steps ahead of everyone else."
Murakami's mouth split into a grin. "Three steps, actually."
Rensuke, who had been silent, scoffed. "Of course. So what is it this time?"
Murakami ignored the Uchiha. "Chakra control exercises, genjutsu training, and finding a way to beat Katsuro at shogi."
Katsuro finally lifted his head from where it rested on his folded arms, amusement flickering through his half-lidded eyes. "You? Beat me at shogi?"
Murakami shrugged. "I like a challenge."
It was true. But it didn't stop him from recognizing just how unfair some natural advantages truly were.
Take the Nara clan, for example.
Every single one of them was born with that same razor-sharp intelligence, that instinctive grasp of strategy that made them natural tacticians.
It wasn't just raw intellect; it was a kind of mental architecture designed for analysis, for predicting outcomes before others even recognized the pattern.
You couldn't brute-force your way through that kind of advantage.
And their signature technique; the Shadow Possession Jutsu wasn't exactly flashy, but in the right hands, it was a death sentence.
One moment you were moving freely; the next, your body was frozen, your life effectively decided upon
Murakami found it… irritating.
He had even considered introducing chess, thinking it might level the field or give him a new angle to exploit.
But even then, he hesitated.
He could picture it too clearly: him smugly explaining the rules, believing he had the upper hand… only for Katsuro to demolish him in minutes.
A game he'd invented, and he'd still lose.
No. Absolutely not. Some humiliations weren't worth risking.
One kid clicked his tongue. "You're going to lose."
Another nodded solemnly. "Badly."
Aiko smirked. "I can't wait to watch this."
Murakami sighed. "Amazing. Such overwhelming support."
Katsuro stretched lazily, finally sitting upright. "Tell you what, if you actually beat me, I'll put in effort in anything you want for a whole day."
Kenji gasped dramatically. "An entire day? Are you sure your body can handle that much activity?"
Katsuro yawned. "We'll see."
Murakami grinned. "Deal."
The classroom chatter faded the moment the door slid open.
Daigo-sensei entered, his presence alone enough to command attention.
He wasn't the most intimidating instructor, but there was something in the sharpness of his gaze that made even the rowdiest students sit up straight.
He paused at the front, arms hung loosely by his side, surveying the room. A few murmurs lingered, but a single pointed look from him sufficed to settle the class into silence.
"Good," he said simply, nodding in approval. "Now that you all remember how to behave, we'll get straight to the point."
His gaze swept over the students, lingering momentarily on a few before continuing. "Today, you'll be observing your upperclassmen as they go through their graduation exams."
Interest sparked throughout the classroom.
Students straightened in their seats, exchanging glances.
Graduation exams weren't something they usually got to witness.
Daigo-sensei continued. "This will include the three foundational techniques, Clone Jutsu, Transformation Jutsu, and Substitution Jutsu. After that, there will be sparring to determine combat readiness and team placements."
Excitement rippled through the room.
The foundational jutsu were basic, yes, but many still performed badly at It.
But the real cause for excitement was watching the sparring matches.
Seeing the upperclassmen fight was a rare opportunity.
Kenji leaned toward a classmate by his side, whispering with a smirk, "Now this might actually be fun."
Murakami ignored the murmurs, keeping his focus on Daigo-sensei as he spoke again.
"You are expected to observe carefully and learn as much as you can," Daigo-sensei said. "These are your seniors so watch how they execute their jutsu, how they move, how they respond under pressure."
"What you see today isn't just a demonstration, it's a blueprint for what will be expected of you soon enough."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the class. "Some of you will be in their place soon enough. Whether you pass or fail depends on your own effort."
The reality hit the students. Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats, suddenly more aware of their own progress…or the lack thereof.
Glancing toward the window to judge the time, Daigo-sensei added, "We leave in five minutes. Form up outside. I don't want to hear any complaints. Consider this part of your education."
With that, he turned and strode from the room, leaving a buzz of conversation in his wake.
Murakami leaned back in his seat, arms crossed.
Watching the graduation exams would be useful, yes, but more than that, it was a stark reminder.
They weren't just kids playing at being shinobi.
Soon enough, they would all be tested, and only time would tell how many would live long enough to reflect on the lessons learned that day.