Shiranui Genma

In January of Konohagakure Year 41, the Ninja Academy's final exams came to an end.

A brown-haired boy leisurely took up a stance on the training ground and began practicing his fists.

The entire routine was orderly from beginning to end, carrying a faint sense of natural harmony. It was quite extraordinary.

But the children in his class did not see it that way.

"Is that the only student repeating a year in our class? He failed again, yet he's still out here practicing some kind of fist technique. What is that?"

"Hehe, isn't it? If you ask me, those punches are all soft and weak. No wonder he failed the exam. They might as well call it Turtle Fist~"

"Ahem, the Hyuga Clan's fists look soft too. His looks rather similar. Could it actually be powerful~?"

"Ha~ The Hyuga are a major clan. How could they possibly have a repeater? You probably don't know, but that kid has repeated two years already. And he's still in first grade. If he keeps repeating, he'll never graduate~"

"Heh, so he really is useless. Come on, nothing to see here. Let's go~"

The children who had been pointing and whispering about the brown-haired boy eventually lost patience and scattered off to play.

Who knew how much time passed before the boy let out a light breath and completed his final closing stance. The furrow between his brows finally eased.

Looking at the fiery red sunset in the distance, the gloom in his heart immediately faded away.

"I can't believe it's nearly evening already. Youth really slips away so quickly~"

Over the past few years, his strange behavior, poor grades, and mediocre performance had left him out of place and without many friends. As such, he often talked to himself.

But he had a secret no one knew: he did not actually belong to this world. To him, this world had once been nothing more than an anime.

Although he had loved that anime dearly, now it seemed that the anime had become his entire life.

The Limitless Fist he had just practiced was an inheritance passed down through his family.

Others regarded it as a useless legacy, but he considered it an immense treasure.

The Limitless Fist did indeed look soft and lacking in ferocity for the most part.

But the key was not the fist technique itself. It was the person who taught it, a person who carried secrets beyond even his imagination.

In this life, he had not been born into any famous clan of Konohagakure. Instead, he had become someone named Shiranui Genma.

But Shiranui Genma in the anime had been nothing more than a nameless extra.

Coming to the Naruto World and transmigrating into the body of an extra was not actually that despairing.

Still, for an ordinary person to make something of themselves in this world, they at least needed a good background—in other words, sufficiently outstanding bloodline.

As for Shiranui Genma, in the original story, he had merely been a minor character with a little screen time.

Now that a different soul occupied this body, he had gained Chakra during the first two years, only to be tested as having Fire and Earth Affinity.

Perhaps that was a little better than average, but such superiority would only allow him to develop to a slightly above-average level.

As for the other heaven-defying advantage of transmigrators—the system—it probably had nothing to do with him at all.

In preparation for hearing the system's wonderful voice at any moment, he had ignored wave after wave of chatty yet somewhat adorable girls.

A full five years had passed. Though he had been mentally prepared, he had not expected heaven to be so heartless.

Not only did he lack a bloodline, there was not even a trace of a system.

How helpless!

But how could he possibly accept that?

So he racked his brains and exhausted every means, finally discovering a sage art inheritance—one that came with the Shiranui Clan itself.

It turned out that the Naruto World possessed sage art inheritances beyond the Three Great Sacred Lands.

Although he did not know much, Genma had a rough understanding of some things.

Places like the Temple of Fire and the Temple of Sand possessed techniques similar to sage arts.

However, while the inheritance he knew of remained relatively complete, it had long since declined.

Few people studied it, and even fewer mastered it. The clan itself considered it a useless inheritance.

But Genma believed that if something existed, it must have its reasons. So he decisively chose to learn it.

Although it had cost him two repeated years and forced him to study all sorts of miscellaneous things, he still persisted.

Thinking of those pretty girls who had worked up the courage to confess to him, wearing little skirts on graduation day, only to learn that he had repeated another year, their teeth had itched with anger.

Gone was their former reserve and gentleness. They only looked at him coldly.

There was no helping it. He was actually a fairly honest person and would not deceive little girls.

But with their little skirts fluttering about, it seemed rather wonderful if they could chase after him from behind~

"Ah, this must be my lost youth!"

This constant talk of youth was not actually one of his original habits.

For a long time after transmigrating, he had been in a state of confusion.

Until he saw that man.

That man named Might Duy, dressed in a green bodysuit and always living every day with passionate enthusiasm.

After spying on Might Duy's training several times, he had somehow ended up getting acquainted with Might Duy.

On the very day they met, he had been invited to train together.

But later, he found a new opportunity and stopped training with him.

Once his resolve had firmed again, Genma walked over to the evergreen tree beside him and took a blade from his backpack.

After all, how could an ancient inheritance consist of only one set of Limitless Fist techniques?

That master, who did not look particularly immortal-like, had taught him the Limitless Fist and also given him the Eight Basic Sword Forms.

After two years, he had not fully mastered the blade techniques, but he had now reached the final form: Wiping Blade.

Recalling the key points of practicing Wiping Blade, Genma began to train.

Before he had begun independently exploring and practicing, that strange master had always been unwilling to directly teach him hand in hand.

Because of that rule, he often failed to grasp the true essence of what he learned. His movements might look right, but his force always went astray.

Today was the third day he had independently explored Wiping Blade, and it seemed somewhat different from before.

Slash after slash, he gradually lost himself in the practice. His breathing slowly began to match the rhythm of his swings.

With every slash, he recalled the entire process, compared it with the forms he had learned before, and gradually made adjustments.

Whether practice was right or wrong could not always be judged by appearance. Feeling was what truly mattered.

Silently recalling the sensation his master had taught him for executing a true Wiping Blade, Genma became increasingly certain that his swings were correct.

But while he immersed himself in Blade Technique Training, he did not know that a pair of eyes watched him from the evergreen tree.

A silver-haired middle-aged man slowly sat upright, glancing sideways as he carefully tucked the book in his hand into his ninja tool pouch.

Once Genma finished training, the man could no longer hold back and flashed down from the tree.

The sound he made also alerted Genma to his presence.

"Sorry, young man. I watched you practice your blade swings for quite some time. May I know which family you belong to?"

Genma was not surprised by a ninja's ghostly movements.

But this time, it was a stranger, which made him more wary.

Noticing Genma's tension and prolonged silence, the silver-haired man offered a particularly gentle smile.

"I wasn't intentionally watching you. It's just that all the trees nearby are bare. Um, only these few trees still have leaves. Come to think of it, I actually arrived earlier than you did."

Genma did not care about what the middle-aged man said. After his initial tension faded, he had already begun thinking.

"Uncle, if I tell you my name, will you tell me yours? My father said that if you want to know someone, you should give your own name first. That's the most basic sincerity."

Though those words had not truly come from his father, they were enough to fool someone.

After all, the newcomer spoke quite politely and had shown no obvious hostility.

"I see. My name is... Hatake Sakumo. I'm a blade technique enthusiast~"

Although he had already suspected the white-haired man's identity, Genma's eyes widened when he heard the name Sakumo.

"You're no ordinary blade technique enthusiast, are you, White Fang Lord? My name is Shiranui Genma. I've admired you for a long time!"

His identity had suddenly been discovered, and by a young fan at that. Hatake Sakumo felt rather embarrassed.

He scratched his hair and crouched down.

"I've heard of the Shiranui Clan, but there don't seem to be many who specialize in blades. Are you teaching yourself?"

"Mm!"

Shiranui Genma nodded without much thought, as if he already trusted Hatake Sakumo without reservation.

Hatake Sakumo was slightly startled. He had initially thought Genma might have someone teaching him. While it was possible that Genma was exceptionally talented and had practiced by following demonstrations alone, it now seemed that no one had guided him.

In other words, the child before him might be extremely gifted with the blade.

Hatake Sakumo's heart immediately warmed, and his gaze toward Genma became even kinder.

"I can tell that you must really love the blade. From your practice just now, I could see your persistence.

But when practicing blade techniques, blindly figuring things out on your own is not good. If you don't mind, could you show me the other forms?"

Genma was somewhat confused, but after thinking about it, he decided to tell the truth.

"Actually, you don't need to worry. My master deliberately had me explore things on my own first, then he'll help correct me."

The moment those words came out, Hatake Sakumo froze. Seeing his reaction, Genma immediately smiled slyly. "But since it's you, I won't pass up the chance to show off."

Moving a little farther from Sakumo, Genma solemnly raised his blade.

From the first form, he swung all the way through the eighth.

Hatake Sakumo had no chance to refuse Genma's enthusiasm. After carefully watching the Eight Forms of Swordsmanship, there was unexpectedly a little more approval in his eyes.

Compared to the immature eighth form, the first seven were seasoned yet flexible, practiced to perfection.

Genma did not look particularly old either. Hatake Sakumo's previously uncertain assessment of him settled on one conclusion: an outstanding junior.

"I never expected your blade techniques to be so solid. Your master must be quite an extraordinary person. Be sure to keep at it~"

Genma sheathed his blade and looked at Hatake Sakumo with delight.

"Among everyone I know, aside from my master, no one believes in me. Don't worry, White Fang Lord. Even for the sake of your encouragement, I'll persist to the end."

Seeing the determination in Genma's eyes, Sakumo suddenly felt as though he were seeing his younger self.

"Keep working hard, young man. The path of blade techniques is filled with hardships. Never forget your original heart. I hope to see your figure at the end of the path of blade techniques!"

The breeze swept up yellowed leaves, while the fading sunlight spilled across them, making their surfaces glow red as though aflame.

Where Hatake Sakumo had vanished, fiery leaves danced through the air.