My Techniques are a bit off

Year 60 of the Konoha, August, Konohagakure, Ninja Apartments.

"I felt it! Chakra!"

Seven-year-old Link, a transmigrator, leapt out of bed with uncontrollable excitement.

Seven years since transmigration—do you know how I've lived these past seven years?

Because his mother was seriously injured during a mission while pregnant with him during wartime, she nearly miscarriage. When he was born, he was frail and sickly. Fortunately, the miraculous ninja medical techniques saved his fragile life.

His mother passed away when he was two due to lingering injuries. At the age of three—three!—a little boy who had just learned to run, jump, sing, and rap, was dragged by his father into rigorous physical training every day. Exhausted, he still had to study and memorize all ninja-related knowledge.

Compared to the carefree childhood he had on Earth in his past life, this was nothing short of hell!

But this grueling life didn't last long. Two years later, when he was five, his father, a member of the Anbu, died in action during the Uchiha Clan massacre.

He didn't even have time to grieve. At five years old, born frail and without a cheat-like golden finger ability, he hadn't even managed to extract chakra yet, let alone dream of becoming invincible.

There was only one way in the Konohagakure to change his fate: enrolling in the Ninja Academy. And the prerequisites for passing the entrance exam?

Of appropriate age and the ability to use basic ninjutsu (extracting chakra and demonstrating basic chakra control).

(Reference: Naruto Manga Chapter 672, flashback to Might Guy's entrance exam failure due to inability to perform ninjutsu. Kakashi stated that one couldn't enter the academy without it. Might Guy was eventually accepted as a special case, as was Rock Lee.)

This was why his late father had trained him so fiercely as a child.

"Finally… just in time to extract chakra before the age cutoff," Link murmured as he felt the chakra flowing within him. He jumped off the bed and did two backflips on the floor to celebrate.

It couldn't be helped—he had to celebrate. Four years of grueling physical training from the age of three had finally brought him to the threshold of chakra extraction. He'd long given up on the idealistic "I won't eat beef" philosophy of a transmigrator, but he wasn't willing to live a mediocre life either.

Who knew if he'd even live long enough to lead a full life? The world of Naruto was perilous, rife with bandits, rogue ninjas, and countless other dangers.

There were two paths to becoming a genin in the Konohagakure. One was the Genin Certification Exam, requiring mastery of chakra extraction and the ability to perform the basic Three Techniques (Transformation, Clone, and Substitution Jutsu). The other was to attend the Ninja Academy and pass the graduation exam.

These two paths, however, were worlds apart. Graduates from the Ninja Academy would form three-man teams with their peers and be guided by a jonin or special jonin teacher. Self-taught genin had no such privilege.

Moreover, enrolling in the Ninja Academy came with financial subsidies, training under chunin instructors, and the chance to learn higher-level techniques from their jonin leaders after graduation.

By all accounts, the Ninja Academy was the equivalent of a prestigious university.

Self-study to become a genin? That was more like correspondence schooling at best.

"Konohagakure's societal divide is absurd. Either you get into the equivalent of a top-tier university, or you're stuck in a correspondence course. They really need to focus on developing opportunities in underserved areas," Link muttered to himself. He glanced around nervously—after all, the Ninja Apartments housed impoverished ninjas and orphans, not ordinary civilians. If someone overheard, who knew what trouble it could bring?

He walked to the table, pulled open a drawer, and took out a large scroll, unrolling it across the table.

The content on the scroll was simple, something he'd already memorized: a few basic jutsu.

Specifically: the widely-known Three Techniques, the Binding Jutsu, and Earth Release: Headhunter Jutsu.

It might seem humble, but his late father hadn't foreseen his death during peacetime. The scroll was a keepsake left by his mother before her passing.

The road to becoming a ninja was extraordinarily complex. During those two years of study, he had learned foundational knowledge of chakra and ninjutsu, chakra extraction techniques, methods for enhancing physical abilities with chakra, ninjutsu casting, ninja tool handling, stealth, escape techniques, counter-interrogation training, and more.

(Note: The skill of chakra extraction varies significantly between "basic," "competent," and "proficient," requiring dedicated study and practice.)

This was just a fraction of what the Ninja Academy taught, which also covered subjects like astronomy (yes, they understood their planet), geography, physics, chemistry, biology, tactics, formations, practical combat exercises, and teamwork.

Link gazed at the scroll with mixed emotions, reviewing its contents once more before closing his eyes to focus.

[Sign Sequence: Ram → Snake → Tiger]

He swiftly performed the hand signs, attempting to cast the simplest of the Three Techniques: the Clone Jutsu.

"..."

Nothing happened, though his chakra was depleted.

"Failed?" Link sighed. As expected, he wasn't a genius. Attempting again—

Thud!

"?"

As he reached for the scroll, his right hand fell limply to the floor.

What the—?!

Link stared in confusion and panic, crouching down to pick up his detached arm.

Thud, thud!

Perfect. Now there was no need to panic. His head had fallen off too, bouncing into the corner.

"???"

Link, headless, watched as his torso bent down and picked up the arm. To his horror, the detached arm even flexed its fingers.

Each detached part was smooth and rounded, as if this was natural. They resembled flesh-toned versions of a certain robotic raccoon's body parts.

After a brief moment of chaotic thoughts, his years of ninja training kicked in, and he quickly regained his composure. He realized that all his body parts, though separated, were still under his control.

[To reattach…]

He controlled his body to stand upright (hunching over was exhausting) and pressed his arm back onto the rounded shoulder joint.

Pop!

A perfect reattachment. It was as if nothing had happened!

Flexing his newly restored arm, he tried walking over to pick up his head—

Thud!

The headless body tripped, collapsing sideways. His fingers jabbed the floor hard, and he hissed in pain, sucking in a breath.

Fine. Controlling a detached body was harder than expected. His head and body were misaligned, and his attempts to walk straight resulted in his left foot drifting slightly to the right and his right foot slightly to the left—hence the spectacular fall.