After arriving in the Naruto world, Makoto Nishikado and the others entered the Ninja Academy as new students.
The entire first semester was nothing but cultural studies.
The curriculum was a grab bag of propaganda: "The Will of Fire Burns Eternal," "The Greatest Hokage in History: Sarutobi Hiruzen," and the ever-popular "The Inherently Evil Land of Lightning." It all boiled down to one thing: the Will of Fire was the strongest genjutsu ever cast.
Among the transmigrators, the top student in cultural studies was, predictably, Yukinoshita Yukino, second only to Sakura from the original story.
No surprise there. Her entrance scores at Shuchiin Academy had reportedly been surpassed only by Kaguya Shinomiya's. Classroom academics were child's play for her.
Then the second half of the year rolled around, and physical training began.
Mercifully, this was peacetime, and the students were five- and six-year-old runts. The training intensity wasn't much worse than a civilian sports school back in the real world.
The moment phys ed started, Yukino crumbled. She had decent reflexes, but her stamina was abysmal. She struggled visibly among a pack of children half her mental age.
Makoto, on the other hand, thrived. Outside of Naruto and Sasuke, those two walking cheat codes, and Kiba Inuzuka, who came from a taijutsu-oriented clan, nobody in the class could touch him.
Stamina, of course, was the one thing Naruto had going for him at this stage. He was still the dead-last everyone remembered from canon, and the second-worst student was Hikigaya Hachiman.
Though Makoto suspected the guy was sandbagging.
Hikigaya's literature scores in the original series had been excellent, and while he was no athlete, he wasn't hopeless either.
Dead-second-to-last didn't add up. More likely, he'd landed in an unfamiliar world full of superpowered strangers and decided the smart play was to keep his head down.
Honestly? Not a bad call.
In raw physical scores, Makoto held a comfortable top five.
Days bled into weeks, and both the transmigrators and the locals began to notice something odd about him. The kid trained like he was possessed.
Every afternoon, long after Iruka dismissed the class, he'd stay behind, pushing himself until dark before dragging himself back to the orphanage.
It happened so often that Iruka started physically hauling him off the training field, terrified the boy would keel over.
With that kind of manic excitement, anyone who didn't know better would think he was busy clapping cheeks with beautiful women.
But to Makoto, it made perfect sense. People in the real world got addicted to lifting weights. This was actual superhuman training. Way more of a rush than iron ever was. Of course it was addictive.
Second year brought the basics of Chakra molding into the curriculum.
Makoto went into overdrive.
Unfortunately, real ninjutsu wouldn't be taught until third year. Even the most basic Clone Technique was off-limits. But the newly introduced shuriken training still had him buzzing for weeks.
Not that it mattered much. Shuriken were the Uchiha clan's bread and butter.
No matter how hard he ground, Makoto couldn't break past second place. First belonged to Sasuke, locked down tight, untouchable despite every ounce of effort thrown at him.
Bloodline supremacy made its point for the third time.
_____________
Early morning.
Two figures arrived at Konohagakure's main gate, one after the other.
The eternal gate guards, Kotetsu and Izumo, barely glanced up. They were used to this by now.
Makoto Nishikado, second-year, and Rock Lee, third-year, ran laps around the village before dawn every single day. The Academy had taken to calling them the "Grindlords."
"Impressive, Makoto!"
They stood drenched in sweat, looking like they'd been fished out of a river. Rock Lee flashed a row of perfect white teeth and thrust a thumbs-up at him. "Your speed has completely caught up to mine!"
The morning runs had started about a year ago. Iruka's constant hovering at the Academy, always ready to drag him away the second he exceeded reasonable training limits, had driven Makoto to find a private training ground on the outskirts. That was where he'd met Rock Lee.
They'd clicked instantly, started training together, and the bond grew from there.
"Not even close." Makoto wiped the sweat from his face, studying Lee with a complicated expression.
Back in his previous life, he'd admired this kind of hard-working genius.
But Lee…
He peaked early.
And that peak didn't last.
His fight against Gaara deserved a spot among Naruto's all-time greatest battles, sure. But in the end, a mortal couldn't outrun a bloodline monster.
Sasuke closed the gap on years of Lee's grinding in a single month, turning him into a punchline overnight.
Lee had been born into the wrong world. Drop him into the One Piece universe, give him a Devil Fruit and Haki on top of that work ethic, and he might have actually broken through.
Hell, maybe he'd even pick up the Deserter King's "200x Effort" buff.
But in Naruto, without a bloodline, there was nowhere left to climb.
"Makoto, water!"
A sweet, bright voice cut through his thoughts.
Akizuki Airi came bouncing over, twin tails swinging, and held out a canteen.
The wide grin on Lee's face twitched.
Everyone knew the move that cut deepest between bros: finishing a workout only to watch the other guy get water delivered by a pretty girl.
If it were Sasuke, he probably wouldn't have given the girl's attention a second thought.
But unfortunately, Rock Lee was a completely normal, straight guy [so the jealousy stung].
Damn it, tomorrow I'm cranking up the training intensity on this guy.
It wasn't personal. Lee's looks were just... an uphill battle.
Makoto, meanwhile, could go toe-to-toe with Sasuke in the face department. Not that it mattered, since Airi guarded him like a hawk. No other girl got within ten feet.
He tilted his head back and drained the canteen in long, greedy gulps. Airi immediately pinched her nose in exaggerated disgust. "Go take a shower, you reek! Today's the first day of the new term!"
Right. Starting today, Makoto's class officially entered third year. They could finally learn the Three Basic Jutsu.
"Tomorrow," he said to Lee with a nod, then headed back to the orphanage with Airi to wash up.
At the door, they ran into Yukinoshita Yukino, Ichinose Chizuru, and the others on their way to school.
Two years of living under the same roof, and this group of transmigrators still couldn't be called friends. Acquaintances who saw each other too often, at best.
Apart from Makoto and Airi, who were practically joined at the hip, none of them were close. The personalities were just too much:
Yukino, brilliant but sealed inside an ivory tower, too lofty to acknowledge reality.
Hikigaya Hachiman, a loner whose default problem-solving method was self-destruction.
Eriri, the picture of a refined young lady on the surface, secretly an adult doujin artist behind closed doors.
And Ichinose Chizuru, with the face of a campus beauty queen and a side hustle as a rental girlfriend.
Quite the lineup. Destined for greatness, clearly.
So after two years of cohabitation, they were roommates at most. Friends? Not even close.
Yukino's gaze swept over Makoto and Airi, both soaked through, and moved on without a word. She walked right past them as if they didn't exist.
Since that brief exchange on the day they'd first crossed over, the two of them hadn't spoken a single sentence to each other.
In her eyes, Makoto was a musclehead with nothing between his ears.
He, in turn, had zero interest in engaging with a princess who couldn't be bothered with the mortal world.
Hikigaya watched the dripping mess that was Makoto and thought quietly: What a grinder.
As for Ichinose Chizuru, Eriri, and the rest, they all shared the same singular thought: get back to reality as fast as possible. They had families waiting. Chizuru especially. Her grandmother was terminally ill and needed her.
Sure, Mizuhara-nee's favorite hobby was bleeding simpish guys dry. But she was still a good girl at heart.