Chapter 13: A New Kind of Classroom
The war hadn't stopped. Not for a single day. But for once, the camp felt... quieter.
Not in the sense of peace—no, distant rumblings and occasional flare-bursts of chakra still echoed beyond the forest line—but quieter in a different way. A stillness before something new. A shift.
Ren noticed it during breakfast. The usually tired and cranky cooks were alert, muttering about a new order from Konoha. Older kids whispered nervously. Taro leaned over, chewing a stale rice ball.
"You hear? They're starting a training squad for orphans."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "A squad? For what, fetching supplies?"
Taro grinned. "No, like real training. Taijutsu and chakra stuff. Not missions, though—just basics. They don't want us dying before we're useful."
Kenta, who sat nearby, snorted. "We're already useful. We wash socks."
But a knot twisted in Ren's stomach. This wasn't about helping the kids. It was about needing bodies. Konoha was running out of hands. Even small ones would have to do.
---
The next day, a small clearing was cleared near the supply tents. A retired chunin named Juro-sensei took charge of the new "class." He had a limp, one eye, and a scar across his cheek that made him look like he smiled even when he didn't.
He stood before two dozen scrappy orphans—mud-stained clothes, bandaged limbs, and wary eyes.
"You are not ninja," he barked.
No one argued.
"You are not Academy students. You are not soldiers. You are liabilities. Burdens. But… with the right training, you might survive long enough to be something more."
That, at least, got their attention.
"We're starting from the bottom. Taijutsu. Chakra molding. Endurance. If you fail, you go back to chopping roots and cleaning chamber pots. If you succeed, you might get a head start when the war ends."
He clapped. "Line up."
---
Ren stood in the second row, flanked by Taro on his right and a girl named Mina—small, sharp-eyed, and clearly uninterested—on his left.
"Form one!" Juro barked.
The kids stared blankly.
He sighed and began demonstrating a basic Academy taijutsu stance. Legs shoulder-width apart, one foot forward, arms up, fists closed but relaxed.
Ren tried to mimic it, but his balance was off. Taro leaned too far forward and almost toppled. Kenta in the back yawned loudly and got whacked with a practice stick by a grinning assistant.
It was chaos.
---
The morning passed in a blur of kicks, stumbles, and shouted corrections. Ren tried to stay focused, but his legs ached, his form was clumsy, and he kept forgetting to breathe correctly.
During a break, he flopped down beside Taro, both boys drenched in sweat.
"This is harder than I thought," Ren muttered.
Taro snorted. "I thought we were just gonna learn cool moves. Not whatever this torture is."
Kenta limped by, holding his side. "I think my spleen's cracked."
Ren chuckled. Despite everything, it felt… good. Structured. Like he was doing something real.
---
In the afternoon, they practiced obstacle runs—dodging logs, climbing nets, crawling through mud. Ren wasn't fast. But he was careful. He timed his movements, figured out the path with the least resistance.
Taro laughed as he sped past him on the first lap.
Ren caught up on the last one, while Taro wheezed on the ground.
"Smart legs beat fast legs," Ren grinned.
"Smugness causes injuries," Taro replied, throwing a twig at him.
---
That night, Ren sat under a crooked tree near the tent line. He opened the small notebook he kept hidden in his bag and began writing.
Taijutsu Form One:
Feet grounded
Shoulders relaxed
Eyes on target, not hands
Warm-up routine:
Stretch arms before leg work
Don't skip breathing drills—it helps
"Slow is okay," he wrote, underlining it twice. "As long as I keep going."
---
Two weeks passed.
The classes didn't get easier. But they got clearer.
Juro introduced chakra exercises. Nothing dramatic. No jutsu. Just the basics: meditation, trying to sense the energy inside themselves, and then molding it. Most kids failed.
Ren, thanks to his meditation habit, was slightly ahead. Not strong, but more aware. He could hold a small pulse of chakra in his palm for five seconds before it fizzled out.
Juro nodded approvingly. "You've got discipline, boy. Now build stamina."
---
One afternoon, during a rest period, Ren sat with Mina, who was now part of their small circle. She was quiet but sharp—quickest to memorize sequences.
She asked him, "Why're you taking notes like a nerd?"
Ren shrugged. "Helps me remember."
"You gonna write a book?"
"Maybe."
She smirked. "Call it 'How Not to Trip During Kicks.'"
Taro added, "Or 'Ren's Guide to Not Dying While Looking Like a Stick.'"
They all laughed.
---
That evening, after drills, Juro gathered them for a speech.
"You're not soldiers," he repeated. "But you're not burdens anymore either. You've proven you can learn. That you want to."
He scanned their tired faces.
"Keep training. Survive this war. And maybe, one day, you'll get to choose what kind of ninja you want to be."
Ren looked down at his bandaged knuckles. Then up at the stars.
He still didn't know what kind of ninja he wanted to be.
But for now, it was enough to be trying.
---
End of Chapter 13