Super Ninja

Our next mission, as the captain had mentioned, turned out to be quite interesting. Although it was a D-rank mission, it was surprising to learn exactly what we were supposed to do. Our task was to help the old man, Kiganjou—someone we were already familiar with—finish his house.

Honestly, after that first mission, I hadn't returned to the construction site to check whether he had completed the house. So, when we arrived, the first thing that caught my eye was the building's destruction. It looked as though a team of genin had been demolishing it instead of constructing it.

"Genin," the old man Kiganjou addressed us. "Your mission will be quite simple. You need to demolish this building."

"But we built it," Shiko said, surprised. "Aren't you planning to live here anymore?"

"Too many questions," Kiganjou responded grumpily. "Get to work. Pickaxes, hammers, shovels... your hands, legs, heads... You can use everything. No explosive tags. Got it?"

"Hai," we answered reflexively, exchanging glances. Kiganjou's tone was far more commanding than usual.

"Then get to work."

"Demolition is easier than building." This phrase echoed in my mind as we began tearing down the structure we had worked so hard to build. Whoever coined it must have understood the liberating feeling of destruction. Each strike of the pickaxe, every swing of the hammer, released the tension that had built up from the hard work. The air was filled with dust and the sound of collapse as our hands moved tirelessly, smashing walls and bringing down the roof. Every blow of the pickaxe chipped away at the walls, while the hammers left deep dents and cracks.

Debris from wood and brick scattered around us, creating a chaotic landscape of destruction. We worked, channeling all our energy into the demolition, remembering the hours spent building and every drop of sweat shed. Occasionally, we paused to wipe the sweat from our brows, glancing at the work we had done with a strange sense of satisfaction.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the old man Kiganjou approached us. His face showed satisfaction as he gazed at the piles of rubble that had once been a home.

"Excellent work," he said, respect evident in his voice as he glanced at our tired but content faces. "You can consider your mission complete."

"Phew," Shiko sighed, leaving her hammer at the entrance to the small shed where we had gathered our tools. Her face was covered in dust, and her hair tangled, but her eyes gleamed with a sense of accomplishment. "Finally."

Kiganjou, standing nearby, just snorted in response. Without any unnecessary words, he swiftly filled out the necessary documents. His hand moved confidently across the forms, leaving neat lines behind. He then handed the paperwork to the captain.

Captain Kiochi, in turn, gave the old man a firm handshake. Kiganjou then leaped away, moving with the agility of a shinobi far younger than his age.

"Kiganjou is a shinobi, isn't he?" Aymane asked, stating the obvious.

"Of course," Captain Kiochi nodded. "Or did you think you were building that house for no reason?"

"That's exactly what I thought," Shiko said, still staring at the ruins.

"I know," the captain chuckled. "The head of the Yamanaka clan came to inquire about this mission. The Administration's explanation satisfied him."

"Inoichi-sama?" Shiko asked, surprised.

"Heh," the captain grunted. "I suppose there's no point in keeping this secret any longer. You'll find out soon enough anyway. These D-rank missions weren't about using you as free labor; they were meant to help you understand the hard work of ordinary people—those who aren't shinobi. It's important for you to know what an average person goes through. This will be incredibly useful during reconnaissance missions, for instance, when the village sends you to another country to gather information. Knowing how to handle a work tool properly will help you blend in with the crowd much more easily than if you were clueless about how to do the job."

"So that's why we worked so hard…" Shiko drawled.

"You're looking at it the wrong way," the captain said, shaking his head. "Very few genin teams are ready to take on C-rank or higher missions right after graduating from the Academy. Your team needed to be tested. You needed to get to know each other better, and I needed to understand you better. There are also many other positive aspects to this approach."

"I see," Shiko exhaled, accepting the captain's explanation. "So, we won't be doing these kinds of missions anymore?"

"Only as punishment," the sensei chuckled, then added, "Or if you need to learn something new in a specific area."

Thinking back on most of the D-rank missions, I realized I had learned many new things and developed skills I hadn't had before. In the end, D-rank missions weren't as bad as they seemed. Sure, they didn't pay much, but they were simple tasks. And if you looked at them as opportunities to learn, the difficulty didn't seem so overwhelming.

We nodded, accepting the captain's explanation. After all, we couldn't refuse missions. With that, we returned to training.

The weights the captain made us wear reduced us to regular Academy graduates, but as soon as we took them off, our speed and abilities increased instantly. The sparring sessions were intense, with the captain pushing Shiko and Aymane's skills as much as possible. Both girls continued to improve, but their progress wasn't as fast as we had hoped.

My training, however, was different from the girls'. While they focused on physical development, the captain made me concentrate on techniques. Practicing jutsu was crucial for me, as it could save my life in the future—not just mine, to be honest, but also Shiko and Aymane's. Their safety depended on my success.

The next important task for me was a visit to the hospital to inquire about enrolling in the iryo-ninjutsu courses. I wanted to gain a more professional understanding of the body and learn how to work with it because I knew I wouldn't always have access to medical professionals. Besides, like anyone else, I wanted to know how to live longer. After experiencing reincarnation, I realized that death is a terrifying process that awaits everyone. While I'm not afraid of death itself, I'd certainly like to extend my time a bit longer.

Konoha has three hospitals. The main hospital, located near the Hokage's Administration, is a large, multi-story building where the village's top medical-nin work. It also houses the Medical Academy, where new medical specialists are trained.

The other two hospitals are smaller but have their own areas of expertise. Hospital Number Two specializes in treating shinobi and the unique injuries they suffer. Hospital Number Three focuses on the care of ordinary civilians. The Main Hospital, or Hospital Number One, is the largest and busiest, serving a wide range of the village's residents.

At the entrance of the Main Hospital, you'll find the security detail—retired shinobi who recently stepped down from active duty but couldn't fully walk away from their work. These older men and women, with their experience and skill, could still take down many foes, making the hospital one of the safest places in the village.

I approached the reception desk, where several nurses were busy working. They were kunoichi; their fluid movements and the shinobi insignia on their uniforms gave that away immediately.

"How can we help you, young man?" asked a short nurse with dark blue hair.

"Good afternoon," I greeted her politely. "I'd like to inquire about studying to become a medical-nin."

"Oh," she said, tilting her head slightly. "In that case, you'll need to go to the second floor, room B-289."

"Room B-289?" I repeated, glancing at the stairways ahead of me.

"Yes, second floor, east wing," she confirmed, nodding toward a staircase at the far end of the reception hall.

"Got it, thanks," I replied.

I made my way up to the second floor and headed straight for the designated room at the end of the hallway. A large window in the corridor offered a view of the village, though being only on the second floor, there wasn't much to see. In front of the room, several empty chairs lined the wall, all unoccupied.

I knocked on the door and waited. If no one had been inside, a sign would have indicated that, as I had noticed similar signs on other doors in the hallway. But the wait wasn't long; soon, the door opened, and a short man appeared. He squinted briefly as if sizing me up, then stepped aside to let me in.

"Come in, genin," the man said.

The office was simple, much like any other lower-level administrative space. It felt more like a storage room than an office. The only thing that gave it any character was the large window, which brightened the otherwise dull space.

I stepped inside and waited for further instructions. The man sat down in his chair and studied me for a moment. Then, tilting his head slightly, he asked:

"How can I help you, genin?"

"I'm here to apply for medical-nin training," I explained.

"Ah," he said, stretching the word. "Very interesting. Have a seat, and let's get acquainted. What's your name, genin?"

"Suzuki Grandvitara," I replied.

The man looked at me and shook his head slightly, clearly surprised by my name. Fortunately, he didn't comment on it. Any remarks about my name or surname would have made the situation uncomfortable.

"Suzuki, huh," the man murmured. "When did you become a genin?"

"A few months ago," I replied. "I'm still quite young."

"That's understandable," the man chuckled. "You can call me Poku Kebabu; I'm the head of the admissions committee at the Medical Academy."

"Nice to meet you, Poku-san," I said politely.

Poku Kebabu pulled out a form and a folder, placing them on the desk in front of him. He noted today's date, entered my name and rank, and filled in the appropriate fields.

"Who's your captain?" he asked.

"Subidzuma Kiochi, Team 13," I answered calmly.

"Excellent," he nodded, making a note. He glanced at me again, assessing something, before jotting down another entry. After reviewing his notes, he continued, "If you want to train as a medical-nin, you'll need to pass several tests to determine if you're suited for this line of work."

"What kind of tests, Poku-san?" I asked.

"First and foremost, chakra control," he explained. "We also need to check chakra adaptability to see if your chakra is suitable for healing—not all chakra is. These are the most crucial factors. In addition, we'll assess your ability to learn, as medical-nin need a deep understanding of medicine and the human body. If you pass all the tests, you could become a moderately skilled medical-nin within three or four years."

"That sounds great," I said with a smile. "When can I take the tests?"

"If you have the time and the desire, we can start right now," he replied with a shrug.

"I have both the time and the desire," I told him.

"Then let's not waste any time," Poku Kebabu said, rising from his desk. "Follow me."

I followed as he led the way, walking at an even but brisk pace. I had to quicken my steps to keep up with him. We quickly ascended to the fourth floor and then descended to the third. This was the southern wing of Konoha Main Hospital, where the Medical Academy was located. As we passed one of the classrooms, I noticed a lesson in progress. Through the open door, I saw students of varying ages—young genin like me and older shinobi who looked experienced enough to be teaching.

We continued past the classroom and arrived at a large laboratory area. A short man with gray hair and round glasses approached us. His forehead protector was positioned to keep his hair out of his face, and he wore a purple vest over a gray shirt.

"Kebabu-san," the man greeted him. "How can I assist you?"

"Kabuto, bring the chakra control and chakra quality tester," Poku Kebabu instructed.

"Hai," Kabuto responded, casting a curious glance my way. He left quickly and returned moments later with two boxes, handing them to Poku Kebabu. Opening the first box, Poku Kebabu pulled out a small scroll. With a quick touch, the scroll unfurled, releasing a puff of smoke, and a gray instrument appeared.

"This artifact tests chakra control," he explained, handing me the instrument. Inside, I saw a liquid. "To pass this test, you need to make the liquid inside spin evenly. Got it?"

"I think so," I said.

I took the artifact and began channeling my chakra into it. The liquid inside vibrated almost immediately, sending an odd tremor through my hands, forcing me to stop the chakra flow and release the device. Intrigued, I wondered how the artifact worked. Grasping it more firmly this time, I sent small, controlled bursts of chakra into the instrument. If I sent too much, the liquid would bubble and break the flow. If I sent too little, it would settle and stop moving. Only when I carefully balanced my chakra did the liquid begin to spin at a steady pace.

Once I got used to working with the sphere, I slowly regulated the chakra flow until the liquid spun evenly.

Poku Kebabu watched me the entire time. When he was satisfied that the liquid was moving as it should, he nodded slightly. After a few more moments of observation, he calmly pulled out my form and made some notes.

"Excellent," he said, taking the sphere from my hands. He held it briefly, then sealed it back into the scroll. "Now for the second test."

The second scroll wasn't a sealing scroll. It had a few complex seals intricately combined, but despite my best efforts, I couldn't decipher their meaning. I glanced at Poku, waiting for instructions.

"Place your hands on the central circle," he said. "Then fill it with chakra."

"Hai," I responded, exhaling slowly.

I rolled up my sleeves and placed my palms on the central circle. The rough texture of the paper met my skin, and I could tell the material was of high quality. Taking a deep breath, I began to direct my chakra.

"Do it quickly and sharply," Poku instructed. "In one burst."

I nodded, inhaled deeply, and then, with a single burst, channeled as much chakra as I could into the circle. At first, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the scroll began absorbing my chakra like a person dying of thirst in the desert. Within seconds, I realized my chakra reserves were rapidly depleting.

Just as quickly as it started, the scroll stopped absorbing my chakra. To my amazement, stone began to spread across the paper in all directions. I pulled my hands away, watching as the entire scroll transformed into solid rock, still in the shape of a scroll.

"Heh," the medical-nin chuckled, inspecting the stone scroll with interest. "Well, that's unexpected. I've never seen this result before."

"Is that good or bad?" I asked, feeling a bit concerned.

Kabuto, who had been standing to the side, also observed the stone scroll with curiosity. It seemed even he had never seen anything like it.

"It's interesting," Poku said. "Under different circumstances, I'd be eager to explore this phenomenon further, but not today."

"Why not?" I asked, still feeling a mix of anxiety and confusion.

"This result disqualifies you as a candidate for the Medical Academy," Poku replied calmly, making notes on the form. "So, I'm sorry, but you won't be able to enroll."

He pulled out a seal and stamped the paper, leaving an imprint with the word "Denied." Then, he placed the form into a small folder.

"I'm afraid this document will be sent to the Hokage Administration and added to your file," he said.

"Is there any way to avoid that?" I asked, hoping for an alternative. I really didn't want such a record in my file at the Hokage's office. It felt like a permanent mark on my record.

"No, it's mandatory," Poku said, shaking his head. "It's my duty as head of the admissions committee at the Medical Academy."