Murakami POV
I swept my gaze through the group of boys and girls with whom I have spent a better half of my life with. Some looked away whenever they met my gaze, while others met my gaze squarely.
That was to be expected. I had shown them how powerful I am. How could there dare harbor any thoughts of succeeding where Kenta and Kenji failed.
Only a few like Katsuro, Hiyori, Choya Aiko and Daichi didn't look away, but each had their own thoughts as they looked at him.
"In the absence of any challenges," I began as the silence began to feel uncomfortable, "how about we bring this dinner to an end?"
I walked to where I sat and looked round the table. "But before that, I'd like to say a few things."
Giving a speech to a group was something I had never tried in both lives especially considering the image I intend to build in their minds.
"A man has two lives, and the second begins the moment he realizes he has only one." I began with an interesting quote from my past life. "The Shinobi world is at war. A war that has been going for as long as I can remember."
"Eight years ago, this war took my parents from me. Aiko and Daichi's too. And now, we are the newest bloods being funnelled into it." I paused and took in the varying changes in expression on each of their faces.
War was not a pleasant thing and as children, a parents view on things greatly impacts how we view it.
For Aiko and Daichi who were orphaned because of war, their views on it would vary from Kenji who had civilian parents alive and well.
To Aiko and Daichi, war was pain and death. To Kenji, war was honorable. It was a stage where you showed your strength and earned fame from it.
To Katsuro, Choya and Hiyori, its meaning changed too.
But regardless of their thoughts, my statement was the truth. So after a moment of silence, I continued.
"Most of us would come to realize only too late the importance of this one life that we have." I sighed and looked down feeling a bit melancholic. It was an inevitability. "A moment of carelessness out there would spell our death."
"I have trained unfailingly, every single day since I knew the importance of strength, all for one purpose. To reach the end of my natural life."
I allowed the words to linger longer, not because they were profound, but because they were the truth.
I let my gaze drift across their faces again, Aiko's attempt at a casual indifference, Katsuro's uninterested face, Daichi's quiet focus, Kenji's stubborn pout, Sora's curious calm.
Children soon to be turned into numbers or weapons depending on how sharp they turn out to be. Sigh. The curse of knowing too much.
"I am not strong because I want to be," I continued quietly. "I am strong because I am afraid of dying before I have finished living."
A few of them shifted and I didn't really blame them. It was a unique thing to talk about reaching the end of one's natural lifespan, life and death at this age.
The Will of Fire clearly stipulates that one should give up their lives for the next generation.
Truth was always heavier than bravado.
"In war," I said, resting my fingers lightly against the table, "strength is not glory. It is permission."
I paused.
"Permission to attack and defend at will,"
"Permission to dictate distance… and decide when a fight begins or ends."
"Permission to ignore threats others must fear."
"Permission to protect what matters… and abandon what doesn't."
"Permission to be disobeyed or obeyed, without question."
"Permission to survive mistakes that would kill anyone else."
"Permission to go home." I finished and looked up.
"The weak don't have that permission."
No one spoke.
"My strength was not acquired to win wars," I said. "It was acquired to survive them. Because at the end of the day, it's the one who survives till the very end that is the winner."
I caught Aiko snickering but I ignored her as I observed Kenji's jaw tightening slightly.
He didn't look to be in disagreement… just processing the difference between our beliefs.
Hmm. He is learning. Hopefully he gets his head straight so he doesn't become a problem for Aiko.
"I will not tell you to chase strength the way I do," I said. "Because my path is not… healthy." I chuckled at that. There is no way I'll be advocating giving these kids the weight seals while they're going into war soon.
Regardless, I think I have made an impression. Even if nothing is heard of me, this few people would retain the image I have painted in their minds and hearts.
In a game of shogi, there are only two roles: the player… and the pieces.
The same applies in the game of life.
What makes the difference is whether you know whose game you're playing.
You're either the user or the used, the producer or the consumer, the creator or the destroyer.
There was no middle ground.
The foundation of my empire won't end in the economic area of this world.
Making friends with people with potential to go places is also an investment worth venturing into.
While it is emotionally and morally questionable, it is also necessary.
Power was never built on comfort.
It was built on preparation, foresight, and the willingness to see the world as it was, not as people wished it to be.
I folded my hands loosely behind my back.
Knowing the things I know about this world, affection at this point was dangerous, and attachment worse.
But isolation… isolation was inefficient.
Connections were leverage.
Trust was currency.
Loyalty was insurance.
And potential… that is the rarest resource of all.
I looked at them again and exhaled slowly. They were a treasure trove of potential, but potential really only becomes valuable when the results are out.
And that would take years.
Now, I am willing to be patient but I was not their savior, leader or even their friend, not truly.
But I could be… a fixed point.
And sometimes, that was enough to change the direction of a life.
"In shogi," I said aloud, breaking the silence again, "even a pawn can become something greater… if it reaches the other side."
A few of them looked up. Katsuro especially.
"But most pieces," I continued calmly, "never cross the board."
I rested my hand lightly against the table.
"War is the board," I said. "Circumstance is the opponent. And your choices…" I paused. "…are the only moves you truly control."
I let that settle.
"I intend to be a player," I said simply. "Not because I crave power."
That was only half true, but they didn't need to know that.
"But because players decide which pieces are sacrificed… and which are protected."
Silence again…Good.
I turned slightly, reaching for my cup, taking a slow sip before setting it down again.
"If any of you wish to survive long enough to choose your own ending," I said, voice quieter now, "then stop thinking about how to win fights." My gaze shifted toward Kenji briefly. "Start thinking about how to win your lives."
"Win," I said finally. "Grow." Then, after a brief pause, "…And don't die before you figure out who you want to be."
…
...
The rest of the night passed solemnly. With Murakami's speech ringing in their minds, it would take someone with a strong enough mental fortitude to remain casual.
And that was the situation of Akimichi Choya.
While others lost their appetite, Choya continued to eat with gusto until his belly was swollen to a point where he looked like a ball.
Seeing it from an animated screen was one thing, but seeing a living human this bloated from eating gave Murakami a new perspective on things but he didn't show it.
He was also aware that Choya was only a jutsu away from looking normal, so he didn't bother showing any concerns.
As the night grew darker, they all began to leave.
Miko was the first to state her intention to leave and Riku seconded.
Aiko looked torn on whether to leave or stay behind. Murakami sensed this and smiled at her. "How about you see your friends off and come back. I have a gift for you."
He didn't say this out loud but transmitted the voice directly into her ears.
Aiko looked at him for a second then smiled back and nodded. "Yui-chan, Miko is right, we need to leave now. Remember what sensei said?"
"Uhm," Yui nodded. "You're right…" She looked a bit hesitant to say something as she stole glances at Murakami.
Aiko noticed this but didn't react. Inwardly though, she was giggling in mischief. 'Looks like Mu-chan has his first admirer.' but then knowing the kind of person Murakami was, she could only feel pity for Yui.
Yui on the other hand was internally debating on how to ask Murakami to make her strong like him.
She wanted to be a medic, not because she was good at it, but because she was aware of how physically weak she was.
Like the vast majority of clanless Shinobi, she had no direction to follow to become stronger and could only follow along the path provided at the academy.
Reluctantly, she stood and followed Miko and Aiko as they left.
Kenji saw his teammates leaving, and although reluctant too, he stood and followed. "Next time…I'll win." He said as he shot one final glance at Murakami.
Murakami smiled but said nothing. At the rate things progressed, it was virtually impossible for that to happen, but being hopeful was never a bad thing.
For some reason, Murakami felt it was an interesting feeling. 'Being a target for growth doesn't feel too bad.'
In time, the yard was left with only Murakami, Daichi and Aiko who returned shortly after leaving with her teammates.
"And then…there were three." Murakami said with a smile that seemed more genuine than the one he flashed during the meal and spar.
"So," he said, voice calm as usual. "How does it feel… being genin?"
Daichi was the first to react, scratching the back of his head as he let out a short breath.
"…Heavy, I think," he admitted. "Like… it's real now. Training was one thing, but now… people will expect things from us. Missions. Lives depending on us." He clenched his fist slightly. "But… It also feels good. Like I finally stepped onto the path I chose."
Aiko crossed her arms, looking off to the side before answering.
"…It's exciting," she said, though her voice was quieter. "Scary too. But mostly exciting. It feels like… I'm finally moving forward instead of just surviving." Her eyes flickered briefly toward Murakami. "I want to get stronger. Fast."
Murakami nodded once, as if filing their words away.
"To me," he said simply, "it makes no real difference."
He didn't elaborate. Before either of them could ask what he meant, Murakami reached into his sleeve and pulled out a storage scroll.
He spread the scroll open to reveal a sealing formula which pulsed faintly as he formed a hand sign.
"Kai."
With a soft flicker of chakra, two wooden boxes materialized on the scroll, landing with dull, solid thuds.
Murakami reached for the first one and opened it.
Inside lay what looked like a folded belt; matte black, slightly reflective, with a faint metallic sheen. The surface was segmented, almost like overlapping scales, and thin engraved lines ran along its length like circuitry.
He closed the box, lifted it, and held it out toward Aiko.
"This is yours," he said. "Try it out."
Aiko blinked in confusion as she received it.
"A… belt?" She asked but still accepted it carefully. The moment it settled into her hands, her brows furrowed.
It was too heavy.
Way too heavy to be a belt.
Her eyes widened slightly as realization hit.
"…This isn't leather," she murmured.
The material was cold and dense. Unnaturally so.
She unfolded it halfway and felt the rigid weight shift.
"This is—"
Before she could finish, Murakami spoke.
"Pour chakra into it."
Aiko's confusion instantly shifted into excitement.
"Got it!"
She gripped the belt with both hands and pushed her chakra into it without hesitation.
For a split second, nothing happened.
Then—
Click. Click. Click. Click.
The "belt" trembled in her hands as its surface separated into dozens of tiny segmented compartments. The metal plates slid apart with precise mechanical fluidity, revealing razor-thin interlocking sections beneath.
The entire length elongated, loosening, reshaping—
Until what she held was no longer a belt.
It was a whip.
An iron whip.
"…This is…" she whispered, eyes shining.
The whip flexed slightly in her grip, almost alive as her chakra flowed through it. The segments moved smoother, lighter, responding to even the smallest twitch of her wrist.
Murakami watched her reaction silently, a smile on his face.
"Channel chakra continuously," he instructed. "It will increase flexibility and reduce recoil. If you stop… it returns to base rigidity."
Aiko gave a small experimental flick.
The whip snapped forward with a sharp crack that echoed across the empty yard.
Her eyes starry as she caressed the belt.
Daichi let out a low whistle.
"…That's insane."
Aiko turned to Murakami, excitement practically radiating off her.
"It feels like it's moving with me!"
Murakami gave a faint nod.
"It will grow with your control."
Aiko hugged the coiled whip to her chest for a second before quickly pretending she hadn't.
"…Thank you," she said, quieter, but sincere.
Murakami said nothing but the faintest hint of approval crossed his eyes before shifting his attention to the second box.
Without ceremony, he rested his hand on the lid and slid it open.
Inside lay a short katana.
The blade was slightly shorter than standard, designed for close combat and speed rather than reach. Its scabbard was a deep charcoal black, wrapped in dark indigo cord. The guard was a simple circular, matte steel, but faint wave-like engravings traced along its surface. The hilt wrapping was tight and built for grip even with sweat or blood.
Murakami closed the box, lifted the weapon out, and turned toward Daichi.
"This one is yours."
Daichi blinked, caught off guard.
"…For me?"
Murakami extended it without another word.
Daichi accepted it with both hands, instinctively respectful, but the moment his fingers closed around the scabbard, his expression shifted.
This balance…even sheathed, he could feel it.
It was not too blade-heavy nor was it too light.
"…It's… light," Daichi muttered, surprised. Perfectly centered would've been the right word.
"Draw it," Murakami said.
Daichi nodded and slowly pulled the blade free.
The steel slid out with a clean, *SLING* sound.
The blade itself carried a muted silver tone, not mirror-polished but refined enough to catch light along its edge. Faint temper lines ran near the cutting edge subtly, but beautiful in a quiet…and lethal way.
Daichi exhaled slowly.
"It feels…" He adjusted his grip unconsciously. "Like it already knows how I move."
Murakami folded his arms.
"It was balanced for speed-based taijutsu integration," he said. "Short draw time. Low recovery delay. Durable enough for chakra reinforcement."
Daichi swung it once, experimentally.
The blade cut through the air with almost no resistance.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…This is way better than the standard issue."
Murakami said nothing to confirm or deny it.
How could mass produced weapons compare with a commissioned order made with Chakra conductive metal?
After a moment, Daichi's expression softened into something more serious.
"…Why give this to me?"
Murakami's gaze moved past him, toward the training yard, toward memories only he could see.
"Because you hesitate," he said calmly.
Daichi stiffened.
"But when you decide," Murakami continued, "you commit fully. A weapon that punishes hesitation but rewards decisiveness suits you."
Silence settled between them.
Daichi looked down at the blade again.
Then, slowly, he slid it back into its sheath.
"…I'll use it well," he said firmly and Murakami gave a single nod.
Beside him, Aiko was coiling and uncoiling the iron whip with barely contained excitement.
The yard fell quiet again as three genin, siblings and friends stood at the edge of a future none of them could fully see yet.
Murakami looked at them both.
For a brief moment, something almost warm passed through his expression.
"Get stronger," he said. It wasn't an order but an advice.
A simple statement of fact. Because in this world, that was the only way any of them would live without worry.
Murakami looked at them again and thought that he'd be quite sad if any of these two fell too soon. He'd already given Katsuro his gift earlier, it was a wrist hidden weapon launcher.
There was only so much he could do with his shadow possession jutsu without teammates backing him up. The gift was to ensure he could act independently.
"Well then, time to clean up here." Murakami said as he stood up. "Make yourselves useful before you leave…or would you like to sleep over?"
"Yeah, it's too late anyways. I'm crashing here." Aiko immediately agreed and Daichi just nodded.
"Good, then let's get to work. Tomorrow, our new lives begin."