Naruto: This Genius is Somewhat Ordinary-Chapter 414

"That’s amazing! I knew you’d pass!"

The old man who had brought Fujimoto Tōma to the exam was practically glowing, his eyes shining like he’d just won the lottery.

Not only had Tōma passed.

The examiner had rated him excellent.

That single word meant a lot. With results like that, as long as Tōma didn’t completely slack off, his chances of graduating and becoming a full Shinigami were extremely high.

Technically, none of this had anything to do with the old man.

But people who lived long enough eventually cared about one thing more than comfort.

Legacy.

And "the kid from District 56 who became a Shinigami" was prime bragging material.

"Thank you for taking care of me these past two days," Tōma said sincerely.

Even if the old man’s motives weren’t exactly subtle, the help had been real.

That was enough.

"Oh, it was nothing," the old man replied cheerfully. "Just a place to sleep, that’s all."

He was very polite now.

Future Shinigami were not people you annoyed on purpose.

After some awkward small talk, the old man left, visibly satisfied.

Tōma joined the group of successful applicants, waiting for the Shinigami instructors to give further instructions.

The aptitude test finally wrapped up.

The pass rate was brutal.

Out of hundreds of candidates, only a few dozen made it through.

Roughly one in a hundred.

It reminded Tōma of the Ninja Academy back in the shinobi world.

Different system.

Same logic.

Talent filtered everything.

Soon, the accepted students were issued uniforms.

Compared to the Shinigami robes, these were much simpler.

White kimono tops.

Blue hakama pants.

No haori.

Pure trainee energy.

After that, everyone was assigned individual dorm rooms.

Single occupancy.

Minimalist.

No roommates.

Which Tōma approved of immediately.

His own evaluation had been excellent, matching the red-haired guy’s score.

So naturally, their rooms ended up in the same dorm block.

"...You’ve got to be kidding me," Tōma muttered when he saw who his neighbor was.

The red-haired delinquent-looking guy scratched his head and grinned.

"Yo. I’m Abarai Renji. Guess we’re neighbors."

"Fujimoto Tōma."

Renji’s eyes lit up.

"You’re from one of the outer districts too, right? And you still got an excellent rating. That’s insane."

"Mutual encouragement, then," Tōma replied dryly.

Renji laughed. "Works for me."

They went into their respective rooms.

Tōma surveyed his dorm.

A bed.

A desk.

Some folded bedding.

A small stack of books.

A class schedule.

Barebones.

But peaceful.

He picked up one of the books.

Introduction to Shinigami Training Systems.

His eyes sparkled.

Books meant knowledge.

He flipped it open.

Then...

"...That’s it?"

Disappointment.

It was all surface-level.

No real techniques.

Just a framework.

Still, he read everything carefully.

Fast.

Absorbing everything in one pass.

By the end, he had a solid picture of how this world’s system worked.

Shinigami trainees studied four core disciplines:

Hakuda – hand-to-hand combat

Zanjutsu – swordsmanship

Hohō – high-speed movement

Kidō – spell techniques

"...So basically," he muttered,

"taijutsu, kenjutsu, shunshin, and ninjutsu."

Different names.

Same idea.

Zanjutsu was special, though.

Every student would be issued an Asauchi, a blank Zanpakutō.

Over time, it would awaken and become their personal sword.

That part caught his attention.

"...So the sword grows with you."

He liked that.

Kidō split into three branches:

Hado – offensive

Bakudō – binding

Kaidō – healing

He wanted all three.

No debate.

He checked the class schedule.

Flexible.

Pick majors.

Pick minors.

Pass the internship phase.

Graduate.

Simple.

For him, the plan was obvious.

Hakuda: minor.

Zanjutsu: temporary major.

Hohō: major.

Kidō: major.

Sword classes he’d attend seriously at first.

Later, just enough to meet requirements.

His raw combat skill was already far beyond anything this academy could teach him.

But Hohō and Kidō?

Those were new.

Real value.

He sat cross-legged and opened his spiritual absorption slightly.

Energy flowed in.

Quiet.

Controlled.

Perfect.

The moon sprite popped out and hopped onto his bed.

"Gula~"

"You can stay here. Just don’t show yourself when people are around."

It nodded happily and zoomed around the room.

Tōma closed his eyes.

He woke up the next morning.

Hungry.

"...Yeah, I forgot what this feels like," he muttered.

"Not being able to skip meals anymore is annoying."

A knock came at the door.

"Hold on."

He glanced at the moon sprite.

It vanished into space.

He opened the door.

Renji stood there, grinning.

"Morning, Fujimoto. Want breakfast? It’s free here. Way better than District 78. I used to go hungry all the time."

"...You’re very motivated by food."

"Survival builds character."

They grabbed a third person on the way.

A quiet blond boy.

"This is Kira Izuru," Renji introduced. "We met on the way here."

They headed to the cafeteria together.

At the entrance, a familiar short black-haired girl was waiting.

"...Rukia," Tōma muttered under his breath.

So it really was that timeline.

Renji waved.

"Yo!"

Introductions were made.

Rukia Kuchiki.

Tōma nodded politely.

And silently decided he wasn’t touching the main plot with a ten-meter pole.