My third year at the academy started like any other, we didn't need to partake in morning drills anymore and lessons on history and other basic knowledge were scrapped.
Most of my classmates focused on improving their taijutsu, perfecting their shuriken throws, or making sure their clones didn't flicker out of existence the moment they were formed.
Yeah, we've begun learning the three foundational techniques: Clone Technique, Substitution technique and Transformation Technique.
For me, though, there was one subject that stood out: Fuinjutsu.
It wasn't something we learned much about in our first two years, and even now, our lessons weren't particularly advanced.
Basic storage seals, minor chakra tags, and simple barrier markings were all we were taught. Things that were practical but far from flashy.
Unlike ninjutsu or taijutsu, Fuinjutsu didn't offer any immediate power or clear advantages in a spar.
At least, that's how most of my classmates saw it.
I didn't.
The fact that it didn't offer immediate power is true but Fuinjutsu wasn't about direct combat. It was about control, about setting conditions and creating effects that don't rely on speed or brute force.
A well-placed seal could store tools for easy access, reinforce a weak structure, or even prevent an enemy from using chakra. The problem was, at our level, we were only scratching the surface.
The academy-level Fuinjutsu was straightforward, designed to be safe and easy to understand. For example, our storage seals had strict limits on what they could hold, too much weight or an unstable object, and the seal would break instead of working properly.
Our suppression tags could slightly weaken someone's chakra flow, but they weren't strong enough to stop a skilled opponent from fighting back.
That made me wonder—was this all Fuinjutsu could do?
I'd heard stories from older students about more advanced Fuinjutsu, ones used by real shinobi.
They said higher-level barrier seals could block explosions, and real suppression tags could completely stop someone from using chakra.
But those were just rumors, and we weren't allowed to try anything beyond what was taught in class.
Unlike them though, I knew there were even more advanced seals with the current peak being the Jinchuriki seal. If I were to rank it, it be borderline SS-RANK.
Still, I was curious.
Why was Fuinjutsu so restricted? Why did the academy only teach the basics? Was it because it was too dangerous? Too complicated? Or was it simply because most people didn't care enough to study it?
I didn't have the answers yet, but if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was this: I wasn't going to ignore Fuinjutsu just because others did.
Even if the academy only taught the simplest forms, I'd make sure I understood them better than anyone else.
And when the time came to learn more?
I'd be ready.
…
The term was finally over.
Sitting in my usual spot in the library, I stretched my legs out, narrowly avoiding knocking over a precarious stack of scrolls.
My fingers were still sore from training, ink stains covered half my left hand, and I was pretty sure my stomach was going to start a rebellion soon if I didn't find food.
But I wasn't moving.
Not yet.
I leaned back against the wooden bookshelf, letting my head rest against its cool surface as I went over everything I had learned this term.
Taijutsu? Solid. I was faster, stronger, and my dodging had improved, mostly because I was tired of getting my ribs tenderized in sparring. I still wasn't a natural at it, but at least I could hold my own against the average third-year.
The Three Basic Jutsu? Not bad.
My Clone Technique still needed work, I could create one, but it looked like it had been starved for a week.
Transformation was steady enough to fool civilians, and my Substitution? Well, at least I wasn't swapping places with random objects anymore. Progress is progress.
But the real star of my term?
Fūinjutsu.
A subject that barely anyone in class cared about beyond sealing kunai into scrolls.
But the more I read about it, the more it hooked me.
It was precise. Methodical. It wasn't just about throwing around chakra and hoping for the best like with ninjutsu. Every stroke mattered. Every symbol changed the way chakra flowed, like some kind of shinobi coding language.
And yet, hardly anyone took it seriously.
The academy taught only the bare minimum; basic storage seals, simple suppression tags, and rudimentary locking mechanisms. Nothing advanced.
Nothing experimental. Just enough to ensure that we knew how to use pre-made seals properly.
And that was a shame. Because the more I read, the more I realized that Fūinjutsu wasn't just useful. It was powerful.
Which was exactly why I had spent the past few weeks trying (and failing) to make a storage seal from scratch.
I exhaled slowly, staring down at my latest attempt.
The paper in front of me was covered in smeared ink, a half-dried storage seal staring back at me like it knew how pathetic my attempts had been.
The circular pattern was off—again. The kanji for "Contain" was slightly crooked, and the lines that should have been smooth and deliberate were jagged, like a child's first attempt at calligraphy.
This was my fourth try today.
The first attempt? The ink bled too much.
The second? I miswrote a kanji and nearly burned my desk.
The third? The kunai half disappeared, which was honestly more terrifying than if it had failed outright.
Now, here I was, brush in hand, ready for another go.
I dipped the brush into the ink, rolling my shoulders to loosen up. "Alright, Murakami, focus. Steady hands. You got this."
The library was silent except for the soft scratching of brush against paper.
This time, I took my time, mindful of every stroke. The circle came out smoother, the kanji neater. My hand barely shook as I completed the final symbol.
I stared at it.
It looked right.
Which meant absolutely nothing, considering my last one had looked fine too.
I carefully placed a kunai in the center of the seal, pressing my fingers against the ink. A slow breath. Then—chakra, controlled and measured, fed into the seal.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, the ink shuddered. The kanji flickered. And then—
The kunai vanished.
My heart leapt. I stared at the empty space where the weapon had been, then down at the seal, where a faint, glowing mark remained.
It worked.
I grinned, my fingers twitching with excitement as I pressed the seal again to retrieve the kunai.
Nothing happened.
I blinked. "Wait—"
Still nothing.
I pressed harder. More chakra. I even tapped it like some old vending machine.
The seal refused to release.
"...Huh."
Well. That was a problem.
I stared at the stubborn ink like it had personally betrayed me. Okay, so maybe it half worked. I could store things, but I couldn't get them back. Minor setback. I could fix it. Probably.
Maybe.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. Clearly, I was missing something.
The book had mentioned that storage seals acted like small dimensional pockets—self-contained spaces that preserved objects inside.
But seals needed proper activation mechanisms. Most had release triggers, like a pulse of chakra or a specific hand sign.
Which meant… mine didn't have one.
I grabbed my brush again, this time making a note in the margins. Remember: Output without retrieval = dumb.
I leaned back, staring at the failed seal with a mix of frustration and amusement. So close, but not quite there.
Still, this was progress.
I didn't know why the academy treated Fūinjutsu like an afterthought, but I was starting to think that was a mistake. There was potential here, more than just storage or suppression. If I could learn to modify these seals, who knew what I could come up with?
The thought sent a spark of excitement through me.
Maybe, just maybe, I was onto something.
For now, though?
I was onto dinner. My stomach growled, reminding me that sealing away kunai didn't help much when I couldn't even seal away my hunger.
Priorities.
And so, with my latest failure still fresh in my mind, I packed up my things and made my way back to the orphanage. As much as I wanted to continue experimenting, hunger won that battle.
The orphanage felt different now, not in a dramatic way, but in the subtle shifts that actually made all the difference.. lighter. Yeah, that's the word.
Tonight's Dinner, for example.
It had always been okay enough, no one was starving, but the meals weren't exactly nourishing either.
A year ago, dinner had been thin soup with barely a scrap of protein. Breakfast? Stale bread if we were lucky. Lunch? Almost nonexistent.
But things were different now.
I glanced around the room. The orphans, kids younger than me, some barely old enough to remember their parents, ate with an enthusiasm I have grown used to seeing.
There was laughter now. Conversations weren't just about who stole whose blanket or how bad the food was. The caretakers looked healthier too, not as overworked or tired.
It wasn't perfect, but it was better.
I had made sure of that.
Turns out, money helped.
I took a bite, chewed slowly, and let a small smirk slip.
This? This was my doing.
Not that anyone knew. I wasn't the type to announce, Hey, I'm the reason your dinner doesn't suck anymore! That wasn't my style.
But after months of quiet donations, all thanks to my cut from the store's profits, the orphanage finally had the extra funds to make these improvements.
Money had never meant much to me in my past life. But in this one?
It mattered.
As I ate, my thoughts began to wander, because of course, I couldn't just enjoy the meal like a normal kid.
Fūinjutsu.
It has been taking up more and more of my mental space lately. At first, it was just a curiosity, something that felt oddly right in a way other shinobi arts didn't.
But the deeper I looked, the more I realized…
It was just like programming.
Not a new thought. I'd already made the connection before. But the more I studied seals, the clearer it became.
A seal was basically a script written in ink. It followed rules, executed commands, and if something was written incorrectly? It failed. Or worse, it did something completely unintended.
A storage seal?
→ Input an object, apply chakra, store it away.
A locking seal?
→ Only unlocks when the correct chakra signature is detected.
Even suppression seals worked on if-then conditions, limiting chakra flow unless a specific condition was met.
It was all logic-based.
At its core, it was a command.
→ Store object → Apply chakra → Seal activates → Object disappears.
→ Retrieve object → Apply chakra again → Object reappears.
That explained why my storage seal worked but wouldn't release anything. I had successfully written a store function, but I had forgotten to program the retrieve function.
Hmm. Noted.
But something still bugged me.
Academy seals were… rigid.
They followed exact formulas with little room for change. The instructors made it seem like altering a seal in any way would guarantee failure.
But if that were true…
How had people ever invented new ones?
I tapped my chopsticks against my bowl, frowning slightly.
There had to be a way to optimize them.
If fūinjutsu was chakra-based code, then like any code, it could be streamlined.
Take a storage seal, for example. It took three separate kanji to store an item. But if I adjusted the pattern, maybe I could condense the same function into two.
Or better yet…
What if I could make modular seals?
Instead of drawing a completely new formula for every different effect, what if I created base templates that could be modified as needed?
A slow, excited grin spread across my face.
Yeah.
I had a theory.
And I was going to test it.