Reincarnation into the world of Naruto with the system

Early in the morning, before I was even discharged, I found myself making strange, fluid movements around the hospital room. It vaguely resembled the Hyūga style, but it wasn't the same. At one point, I felt a strange sense of harmony in my movements and, oddly enough, in the spirit that seemed to permeate the room.

Skill unlocked: "Border of the Sphere"!

"Yes!" I exclaimed immediately, breaking my concentration. Damn. No matter. Now I can just activate the skill and use it without having to force the right mindset. If only I could unlock the second skill I got from Li Shuwen. Not that I'm complaining—this one already sounds fantastic.

Border of the Sphere – A meditative technique allowing you to sense the exact conditions of your surroundings and adapt to them, minimizing the impact of your own existence. Masters of this technique can become completely invisible. This skill is achieved purely through physical training and cannot be detected by those who can dispel only magical invisibility. Like the "Stealth" skill, it loses effectiveness upon attack, but the invisibility effect remains. Opponents unfamiliar with the technique can only dodge if they have the necessary skills, talent, or experience. Those without any preparation will not perceive movement, even upon physical contact.

During activation, damage increases by 1.5x.

While active, your invisibility reaches 98%, stacking with Stealth. Only highly skilled fighters or dōjutsu users can detect you. Byakugan requires activation; Sharingan requires at least three tomoe.

Chakra cost: 40 per second.

The price bites, but at higher levels, I should be able to maintain it for hours—thanks to the reactor in my stomach and my reserves. For now, though, a single minute will drain me dry, and hitting zero is a bad idea. In this world, chakra and life force are tightly linked.

"Well then, let's keep going," I said, slapping my cheeks for focus. Time wasn't an issue—I had an hour until the morning rounds and three until academy enrollment, even enough to swing by home.

Once more, I tried to sink into that state. I really liked it; besides, it's training for the style, not just the skill. After some time, I felt that strange sense of harmony in my surroundings again... only for it to be disrupted shortly after. Something felt wrong in the room.

Glancing around with just my eyes while continuing my movements—why hide? Anyone could tell these were just baby steps. If questioned, I'd say I came up with it myself. After all, I often observed academy students training, and after my encounter with those rogue shinobi, I had "new ideas to reflect on." And I wouldn't even be lying—it's indirectly their fault. Not that I believed my improvised footwork would stay secret for long, even with stealthy training attempts.

Sure enough, I soon noticed the source of the disturbance: two faces peeking through a slightly open door. The elements of disharmony themselves.

"Saya, Aya, did you need something?" I asked, pausing my movements and noting the +1 agility notification.

"Yes, to say thank you!" they said, slightly embarrassed, stepping into the room together.

"That's it? By the way, are you enrolling this year too? Good luck on the exams." I smiled slightly, trying to mimic Naruto's trademark grin without overdoing it. It seemed to work—the notification of a +0.5% relationship increase with each of them confirmed it. Damn, I'm never getting used to this heart system.

"Thanks! And yes, we had one more thing to say." Damn it, twins speaking in unison is a lethal dose of kawaii. It's almost a shame they won't be around much longer. Hmm, could I stop the Uchiha Massacre somehow? How? And should I even try? This will take some serious thinking.

Before I could ponder further, the two girls flanked me from either side... and I became the proud owner of two more individuals with full hearts. A simultaneous kiss on both cheeks—confirmed. Bold girls… or they would've been if they hadn't squeaked and bolted out of the room immediately after.

"Looks like I'll have to do something now, or my conscience will eat me alive. But what? How do I even achieve that?"

Lost in thought, I practically went on autopilot. By the time I snapped out of it, I'd already been discharged, had a snack at home, and arrived at the academy. My mind only returned to the present when a stack of papers was slammed down in front of me. At the sight of it, my brain waved a white flag.

Thankfully, the first few pages were simple—just name, surname, and a short psychological test. Phew, I can handle this. The format was gentle, perfect for kids. The next set of questions got a bit harder, but I did okay on the exact sciences. History was tougher, but I think I passed.

Then came the advanced questions, and that's where I started to struggle. Unlike clan kids or even other orphans, I had zero prior training. I'd seen others being taken to courses twice a month—not much, but better than nothing. And I didn't even get that.

So, straining every ounce of my memory, scraping together fragments from books and canon knowledge, I tackled the tests. At this point, I'm convinced that if I don't flunk out and somehow make it into the advanced class, it'll mean one thing: Hiruzen's theories about "kindness" can be tossed out the window. Because realistically, with the shinobi knowledge of a grub, I'd haven o chance of passing without intervention.

Sigh, I really need to focus on my education. This thought hit me especially hard during the final part of the written exam — calligraphy. I was absolutely terrible at it. I don't have the right heritage for this. There's no trace of seals in my blood!

The next part was easier — one of the chunin at the table (there were ten in the admission committee, including the familiar Mizuki and Iruka) called up those who finished the written test. He made us place our hands on a glass orb, which changed from transparent to a dim color. There was a lot of reaction from the others whenever the color turned crimson, which I took to mean it was a great result. Of course, my result came out crimson... and a hundred chakra points disappeared as if they'd been licked clean by a cow.

Interestingly, not all of the chunin in the committee looked at me with disdain. Surprisingly tolerant teachers we have here.

Afterward, I was sent home and told that the results would be delivered (!) within a couple of days. Not bad. However, given the neighborhood I live in, I'd better intercept the messenger near my house. If they don't find me at home, they'll probably leave the results on the doorstep, and then say goodbye to them — they'd get stolen in no time. Not because I'm the so-called "demon brat," but because my area is rough, and anything lying around gets snatched.

Honestly, I've practiced a bit of that myself a couple of times, but without going overboard. I just want the corresponding skill; it might come in handy someday.

So far, no results. But I don't get skills for everything I do right away, so I'll keep at it and hope for the best.

It would definitely be easier if I knew when the Uchiha massacre would happen. For now, I feel like I'm sitting on pins and needles, and I suspect this annoying sense of anticipation will linger in the back of my mind until the tragedy begins. Damn it, if I at least knew the exact timing, I could try to come up with some sort of plan.

Although, for now, that plan is painfully short: sit still and don't interfere. This is way above my current level. It's a shame about the twins, though, and their mother too.