NARUTO: Ninja World Scientific Revolution

"You'll never know if you're useless until you give it a shot!"

Hyuga Mirai wasn't exactly useless, but after taking the entrance exam for the Ninja Academy, he became acutely aware that he wasn't a genius either—especially when he saw the unsightly mark on his forehead.

The Caged Bird Seal, exclusive to the Hyuga Branch Family, was something he had initially thought looked rather cool when he first saw it in the mirror. However, recalling the pain this seal had caused his body, that sentiment quickly vanished.

Yes.

Hyuga Mirai was a transmigrator. He had arrived in the Naruto World only six months ago, only to be thrust into the biggest pyramid scheme disguised as a youth training center.

It was July in the 41st year of Konoha.

Hyuga Mirai was five years old. His father, a Branch Family Jōnin, had passed away, and as for his mother? She hadn't left any memories—likely she died in childbirth.

Being part of the Hyuga Branch Family, with average talent, excluded from the elite class, and having a golden finger (cheat-like advantage) that hadn't activated yet, Mirai had almost maxed out his "cannon fodder" debuffs.

"The class assignments are out!"

At the entrance of the Ninja Academy, parents and students rushed to check their names on the posted lists. As an orphan, Mirai waited until the crowd dispersed to take a look. Based on his observations, he wasn't making it into the elite class. The only question was, which cannon fodder class would he end up in?

Unless the Academy expanded the elite class to accommodate a hundred students, Hyuga Mirai stood no chance of getting in.

"Hyuga-san, aren't you going to check the class list?"

A soft voice broke through his thoughts. Mirai turned to see Shizune, a familiar face he had spoken to not long ago.

Shizune was the same age and grade as Mirai, having also just participated in the Academy's selection process. During the physical test, when Mirai noticed her pace slowing, he had leaned in to offer some encouragement.

"Keep it up, Shizune!"

Shizune had responded with a smile before picking up her pace and securing a spot in the top 30.

Meanwhile, Mirai, despite giving it his all, barely managed to place in the 40s.

The joke was on him—Shizune hadn't been struggling at all. Mirai had simply overthought it.

Gesturing to his smaller stature, Mirai replied helplessly, "I'm too small. If I squeeze into the crowd, I'll get hurt."

"I hope we end up in the same class, Hyuga-san," Shizune said warmly.

Mirai nodded, replying perfunctorily, "Same here. Aren't you going to check, Shizune?"

Wasn't Shizune being a little too friendly? Mirai quickly dismissed the thought, chalking it up to her simply wanting to make a friend before school started. He turned his attention elsewhere.

The earlier physical test was meant to select students for the elite class.

Mirai, one of the rejected, could still attend the Academy but would receive inferior instruction compared to the elite class, which might have three or four Chūnin-level teachers. Meanwhile, regular classes would often share a single instructor for multiple groups, focusing on the basics to mass-produce ninja as quickly as possible.

When the crowd finally thinned, Mirai approached the list to check his name.

Year 1, Class B.

Not bad.

Though not an elite class, it was still the best of the regular classes—likely due to the prestige of being a Hyuga.

After confirming his placement, Mirai returned home to prepare for school. Those with families would have their supplies ready, but orphans like him had to fend for themselves.

Within the Hyuga Branch Family, his father had been a stoic Jōnin with few close friends. As a result, after his death, the only interaction Mirai had with the Branch elders was a visit from a guard captain to confirm that Mirai could live independently. Once that was verified, the family reclaimed his father's home and assigned Mirai a much smaller one.

Such practices were common in the Branch Family. Those with value retained privileges; those without—like Mirai—did not.

It wasn't as though everyone could be the son of the Branch Family's head or the nephew of the Main Family leader!

With a monthly stipend and his father's savings, Mirai could live comfortably until adulthood. Other than moving into a smaller house, he hadn't suffered much. Even his father's training notes had been handed down to him.

The guard captain had specifically advised Mirai not to rush his training and, if he wanted to practice ninja techniques, to do so alongside his peers in the clan.

Mirai had readily agreed. He understood that a strong foundation was critical. To that end, he focused on a high-protein diet, regular physical exercise, and studying medical techniques.

Yes, Mirai aimed to become a medical ninja. At the same time, he wouldn't neglect the Hyuga's Gentle Fist.

The Third Shinobi World War would erupt in just a few years. When it did, the cannon fodder classes would march to the frontlines. If Mirai could become a medical ninja, he might serve in the rear, improving his survival odds.

Back in his smaller home, Mirai used some of his savings to buy school supplies, as well as several days' worth of meat, eggs, and milk. He then returned to draft his survival plan.

Yes, a survival plan.

The Academy's standard training lasted six years, but war could shorten it. The exact duration would depend on how devastating the war became.

By Mirai's estimation, even Konoha wouldn't stoop so low as to send seven- or eight-year-olds to the battlefield. After all, ninja weren't crops to be harvested every three years.

In other words, Mirai had at least four to five years of relative safety to grow stronger and improve his odds of surviving the inevitable war.

"Good. I think I've finally shaken off the laziness of my past life. From now on, I must stick to my plan," Mirai muttered, hyping himself up as he reviewed his meticulously crafted schedule.

In a world this dangerous, even a moment of slack could mean death later.

"First, I'll get tomorrow's school supplies ready. Then I'll train."

Mirai preferred to prepare in advance. He packed his books into his bag and placed it by the door before beginning his evening training routine.

Given his age, the regimen wasn't overly intense:

Two laps around the training grounds. Sit-ups. Push-ups. Frog jumps.

Though the list was long, the volume was manageable.

After completing his training, a weary Mirai dragged himself home. Dinner consisted of boiled chicken, eggs, rice, and milk. Bland but nutritious.

"I'll reward myself with something tasty every ten days," Mirai mused as he added soy sauce to make the meal palatable. "Wouldn't want my taste buds to dull in a few years."

Once he'd finished eating, Mirai, feeling slightly refreshed, spent some time reviewing his father's training notes, which covered everything from chakra refinement to Gentle Fist techniques. Finally, as sleep overtook him, he set an alarm and drifted off.

Tomorrow marked the beginning of his new life at the Academy.

(End of Chapter)