[Check Out My P4treon For +20 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!! And get chapters before publishing them here for free on my p4treon][https://p4treon.com/talkfictome]
===
[Konoha Year 41 – The Sunagakure Academy]
The wind howling through the sandstone arches of the Academy didn't carry the scent of cherry blossoms or potential; it carried the abrasive grit of a village gasping for air. The Second Ninja World War had ended, leaving a void that the Hidden Sand intended to fill by any means necessary.
The mandate was absolute: the enrollment age was lowered to five. Every "sprout" was to be harvested early to replenish the nearly extinct ranks of the shinobi.
Sayo stood in the courtyard, a small, pale figure draped in a gray uniform resized from his father's old gear. Beside him, children who had grown up in the same harsh climate appeared rugged and sun-hardened, while Sayo looked as though a single desert gale might snap him in two. The air hummed with the sound of muffled weeping—younger children who didn't understand why the safety of home had been replaced by the cold shadow of a stone fortress.
Sharyu's heavy hand rested on Sayo's shoulder, his knuckles white. "Listen," he whispered, crouching so their eyes met. "The village is desperate. The school is... unstable. Protect yourself. Don't seek the spotlight. Your health is the only thing that matters."
Sayo nodded, but his obsidian eyes were already scanning the crowd with clinical detachment. He saw the anxious tremors in small hands and the false bravado in others. He wasn't looking for friends; he was identifying variables.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
A piece of scrap metal struck by a pipe served as the morning bell. A tall, sallow-faced Chunin named Arai stepped onto the balcony. His eyes were bloodshot from fatigue, lacking any of the warmth one might expect from an educator.
"Shut up! Two rows! By height! Move!"
The children jostled like startled sheep. Sayo silently drifted to the very end of the line. He was undeniably the shortest, a "defective unit" in the eyes of the military.
They were marched into a dim, cavernous classroom that smelled of damp stone, old ink, and the pervasive scent of failure. The desks were mismatched, some bearing the charred scars of previous "accidents."
"I am Chunin Arai. Do not expect coddling," he barked, slamming a thick roll of parchment onto the podium. A cloud of dust billowed into the air. "The war took our brothers and sisters! You are not here to play. You are here to become tools for the Sand! Do you understand?"
The silence was heavy. Only a few children gave a rhythmic, terrified nod.
"Roll call! When you hear your name, shout 'Present!' and look at the person next to you. They are your squad-mates. If they die because you are slow, that is on you!"
"Black Ant!"
A dark-skinned boy with thick, powerful limbs stood and roared, "Present!" A few stifled giggles broke the tension.
"Keli!"
A girl with messy pigtails and a face full of freckles whispered, "...Present..."
"Wenshu!"
A boy with thick, cracked glasses adjusted them nervously. "Present."
"Huzhen!"
A mischievous-looking boy jumped up with a smirk. "Present!"
"Sayo!"
Sayo stood. His voice was soft, yet it carried an unnerving clarity. "Present."
Arai paused, his gaze lingering on the frail boy. Sayo didn't look away. He had already memorized every face and name called. To him, this wasn't a class; it was a roster of survivors.
Arai sneered. "Outside. Training ground. Now! We're doing a physical baseline. The last ten finishers don't get lunch."
Panic flared. The children scrambled toward the door, shoving each other out of the way.
On the training ground, the wind was a wall of heat. The test was a simple, brutal endurance run: laps around the perimeter until collapse.
As the whistle blew, the children bolted like a panicked herd. Black Ant took the lead with raw, unrefined strength. Keli ran with her teeth gritted, her face turning a dangerous shade of crimson. Wenshu tripped over his own feet within seconds, his glasses skidding across the sand.
Sayo was immediately swallowed by the pack, then spat out the back. His lungs felt as though they were being filled with hot needles. His legs felt like leaden weights.
Regulate, he told himself, his mind overriding the biological panic of his body. Inhale for four paces. Exhale for four. Distribute the load.
He used the exercise physiology knowledge from his previous life to maintain a strict, mechanical rhythm. He ignored the mockery of Huzhen, who loitered by the sidelines after a quick sprint. He ignored Arai's impatient shouting.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
His vision began to blur at the edges. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. But he did not stop. He was the last runner, his pace pitifully slow, yet every footfall was deliberate.
In the howling wind of the Hidden Sand, Sayo learned his first lesson as a student: In this village, survival doesn't belong to the fastest—it belongs to the one who refuses to let the sand bury them.
===
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 20 on my patreon, go check it out
exclusive 18+ character images, and early chapters, please visit my Patreon. Thanks for your support!
p4treon.com/talkfictome
if you want more updates == supports with power stones
Every 10 Power Stones == Bonus Chapter
every three 5-star reviews == Bonus Chapter