Konoha Year 44. My four-year "trial version" at the Ninja Academy was finally coming to an end.
The world outside our canyon was in a weird, twitchy state of "cold peace." The Second Great Ninja War was technically over, but every major village was exhausted and looking for a way to cheat the next round. Suna's leadership the Third Kazekage and Granny Chiyo decided to hit the accelerator. They shortened the curriculum, pushing us to graduate early so they could refill the ranks.
The graduation exam didn't feel like a school test; it felt like a survival drill. Teacher Arai looked like he was carved out of stone, and the Special Jonin proctors watching us from the sidelines didn't look like they were there to hand out participation trophies.
The physical stuff went about as well as I expected. I came in dead last in the stamina run. My shuriken accuracy was "passable" at best mostly because I'd spent hours calculating the wind resistance and trajectories, even if my arms still felt like noodles.
But then came the utility tests. Genjutsu resistance? Easy. My thirty-year-old mental firewall was way too thick for these basic illusions to penetrate. Trap-laying? That was my highlight reel. I used the Spider to scout the test range and set up a series of "logic-gate" snares that left the proctors actually looking impressed for once.
For the final live-combat drill, I was grouped with Ren and Ami again. Our opponents were basically a wall of muscle.
"Sayo, what's the play?" Ren asked. He wasn't complaining this time he'd learned that following my "code" usually kept him from getting a face full of dirt.
"Don't go head-on," I said, my eyes fixed on the Spider's feedback. "Ren, you're the tank. Draw them into the rock corridor. Ami, use that Dust-Wind Jutsu to kick up a screen. I'll handle the navigation."
It was like playing a real-time strategy game. I used the Spider to spot every ambush. I even managed to pull off a tiny Earth Style wall barely a foot high to trip up a charging opponent at the perfect moment. We scraped by with a win, mostly because the other team couldn't hit what they couldn't see.
When the dust settled, we all lined up to hear our fates. Arai unrolled the assignment parchment.
"Kuro-Graduated. Assigned to Third Battle Squad." "Ren-Graduated. Assigned to Seventh Battle Squad." "Ami-Graduated. Assigned to Logistics Medical Reserve."
One by one, the names were called. Then, it was my turn.
"Sayo," Arai paused, his expression unreadable. "Graduated."
I felt a tiny weight lift off my chest.
"However," Arai continued, his voice carrying across the quiet field. "Chakra reserves: below minimum. Physical rating: Fail. Disqualified from all frontline combat assignments."
A ripple of whispers went through the class. I could feel the pity from some of them, and the "I told you so" looks from others. In their world, if you weren't on the front lines, you weren't a real ninja.
"By special order of Elder Chiyo," Arai's voice cut through the noise, "Sayo is assigned directly to the Puppet Squad's Rear-Line Production and R&D Unit as an apprentice."
The whispers changed instantly. People weren't pitying me anymore; they were confused. Most ninjas spent years on the front lines hoping for a "safe" assignment like the workshops. I was skipping the line.
I knew what it was. It was Chiyo protecting an investment. She knew my body would be a liability in a ditch, but my brain was a high-value asset in the lab. It was the perfect move for me. The battlefield was for people who liked getting shot at; the workshop was where I could actually build the future.
After the ceremony, Ren walked up to me and gave me a rough pat on the shoulder the kind that almost knocked the wind out of me. "Well, you survived, Sayo. But don't think you're getting off easy. You better build me a puppet that can actually take a hit, alright?"
Ami gave me a shy smile. "Good luck, Sayo-kun. I'll see you in the logistics wing."
I watched them leave, my dark eyes calm. My time at the Academy was done. I hadn't become the strongest, and I definitely wasn't the fastest. But I'd made it.
As I walked back home through the sand, I felt a sense of clarity I hadn't had since I woke up in this world. The school phase was over. Now, I finally had access to the real tools the high-grade materials, the advanced blueprints, and the time to start bio-hacking my way out of this "fail" rating.
The front lines were for soldiers. I was an engineer. And the war of the future wasn't going to be won with kunai; it was going to be won with the stuff I was about to build.