The lesson continued,

"If I remember correctly, you can use a genjutsu, correct?" asked Mikoto.

"Yes, ma'am. Mist Servant Jutsu," Takuma replied.

"Ah, illusory clones that act as though they're made of mist when attacked and reconstitute from any injury," Mikoto mused out loud. "A question regarding this genjutsu: how do you establish the connection to a target?"

"It's a visual genjutsu," answered Takuma.

"How do you know that?"

"It was in the jutsu scroll."

Mikoto looked surprised. "You read the attached research on jutsu scrolls?" she asked.

"It takes time to read the text, but it makes up for it by making the learning process easier. Reading the text beforehand makes solving mistakes and blocks easier as I'm already aware of potential problems that may pop up and am prepared for them," said Takuma.

Mikoto smiled. "… You're correct; Mist Servant Jutsu is a visual genjutsu. However, I want you to be able to recognize the connection component of a genjutsu by studying the hand seals and the chakra pathways those hand seals direct the chakra into— the final goal is to be able to judge the genjutsu's connection component just from the hand seals."

"Understood," Takuma said as he took notes.

"Excuse me for a moment," said Mikoto and exited the room.

Takuma flipped to the last page of his notebook and started calculating how many mission points it would take to buy three, four, or five D-rank genjutsu so he could figure out the different connection components. Mission points weren't a problem, but it would still be a significant purchase. The real problem was choosing the genjutsu. The genjutsu catalog in the jutsu archives didn't mention the delivery method; they only said what the genjutsu did.

'I'll ask which ones I should buy,' he thought.

Mikoto entered the room and sat in front of Takuma.

"Here you go," she said.

"Ma'am, I was wondering which—" Takuma looked up from his notebook, and his words died in his throat as he found himself staring at four crimson-red scrolls sitting before him. The color wasn't the shocking part, but the paper seal which held the scroll shut. He recognized that seal design. It was unmistakably the official seal of authenticity imprinted by the village authority on every jutsu scroll created. He owned five such scrolls, and the only difference between his and the scrolls in front of him was that his scrolls were scarlet red.

"Ma'am?" Takuma looked at Mikoto.

"These are four D-rank genjutsu for you to study. In addition to the Mist Servant Jutsu, you now have five genjutsu in your possession. Study each of them thoroughly and compare them to each other to recognize which part of the hand seal and chakra flow establishes the connection component."

Takuma was stunned beyond words. He stared at the woman before him for a long while until she had to speak first.

"Takuma?"

He snapped out of his shock. "How much do I need to pay for these, ma'am? I was going to purchase a few on my own, but it's more convenient if I can get the ones you recommend."

"You don't need to pay me anything, Takuma," Mikoto laughed. "These scrolls come as part of our lessons, and you don't have to return these to me as they're yours to keep."

"B-But this is too much…."

"Not for me. These mean nothing to me," Mikoto shrugged. "The compensation of an inactive jonin like myself from the village is such an amount that I can buy four of these scrolls every day, and it won't put a dent in the amount I have. So, don't feel burdened by these scrolls as they don't hold the same value in my eyes as they do in yours. And if you still feel uncomfortable… I'm aware that you did a great service for the village and made the Police Force proud. Just consider it as gratitude from the Uchiha Clan. Refusing these would be a slight against me and my clan."

Takuma bowed his head deeper than before.

"You leave me no choice; I accept these gratefully," he said. "Please accept my heartfelt gratitude."

"Accepted," smiled Mikoto.

Takuma tried to gather himself, but the four brand new scrolls he had gotten for free and the fact he wasn't even expecting to get them at all refused to settle down in his mind. He was truly startled and did not know how to react. He worried if he should've expressed his gratitude differently. And deeper than that, he couldn't help but wonder if all genin under jonin teams got this sort of treatment from Day-1 after their academy graduation. Mikoto had dealt out four D-rank jutsu and said it meant nothing to her— and it was only the second time he had met her. Takuma couldn't help but imagine what all precious resources his classmates who were selected by jonin had received in the two years they had been out of academy.

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The feeling of indignation rose within him. All the hardship he had suffered in the past two years seemed insignificant. Why was he trying so hard for resources he fought for, shed blood, sweat, and tears for when some of his peers could get the same without batting an eye? How far ahead would he have been if he had it that easy? All of that effort, and he knew in an all-out fight, someone like Okubo Momoe would decimate him with a B-rank jutsu she had in her possession. Did she know what it felt like to fight in front of people for entertainment while knowing they wanted to see his blood spilled? Did she know what it felt like to sell drugs to people in hiding, fearing that one slip-up would end his life as it was? Did she know what it felt like lying to loved-one, to colleagues because he feared that telling them would damage the relationship he cherished so much after losing every loved one he had from a previous life? Did she know how it felt to know the future and live every day with the fact that people like him would be the first to die in the conflict to come?

He felt his resolve slip; the steel in his heart which made him get up every morning and kept him working to the end of the day until he couldn't do any more crack. He was aware of the difference between him and a genin from a jonin team before, but it was now that the reality had truly struck him in the face that he was aware that the difference wasn't as short as he assumed but that of a canyon which couldn't be surmounted.

He couldn't help but hate the unknown entity that had dumped him in this world, if it even existed. If he was to be sent to this world, why couldn't he have been sent a couple of years earlier— even a single year would've been enough. But, NO! He had to be sent with only one year to the most important turning point of a shinobi's life. If he had more time, Takuma would've worked harder and made it on a jonin team.

He resented this world for being as harsh as it was. He resented the system which had created the inequality he suffered under. He resented those who held the privilege while he struggled in the mud. He resented this village—

"Takuma, is something wrong?" asked Mikoto.

Takuma closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt his raging heart and pulled a curtain over it as he opened his eyes and looked at Mikoto. The woman in front of him was part of the problem, but at the same time, she was his benefactor who was teaching him genjutsu and had just now gifted him four jutsu scrolls.

"Just a little overwhelmed, ma'am," Takuma said, his voice softer than usual. "I feel an increased pressure not to disappoint you after you treat me with such generosity."

"Do you dislike being under pressure, Takuma?" asked Mikoto.

Takuma's tired eyes widened. Before he knew it, a laugh escaped him. Did he dislike him being under pressure? "Yes, I do. I dislike it deeply," he replied.

From the day he had become Takuma, he had been under constant pressure without a single moment of reprieve. He could no longer recall what his days as a carefree college sophomore felt like. What did he do all day? He didn't have a job with pressure to earn a living, had no chores at home, and no responsibilities other than studying, which he didn't take seriously— Takuma couldn't recall going back to those days, and yet those days were all he wanted.

He hated every single moment of his new life. Yes, he had built relationships he cherished more than anything and learned more than he imagined he would; Takuma liked the current version of himself— he was confident, competent, and an overall better person in every category that mattered. And yet, if given a choice, he would choose not to live the three years of his life.

But that was not a choice.

"But under pressure is when I perform the best."

Takuma felt a calm descend in his heart as a solid line of thought emerged from within his chaotic mind.

His one goal from Day-1 had been survival. Takuma now realized that his goal had been part of the problem. Survival meant continuing to live in spite of an accident, ordeal, or difficult circumstances. That type of existence was a constant struggle. He needed a new goal.

Survival be damned— he needed to thrive.

The cracked steel in his heart became whole again, stronger than before.

He couldn't change the world, not as he was now, and he didn't know if he wanted to change the world. So, the only other option was to change himself. If he was dissatisfied with his treatment, he needed to reach a position where his current dissatisfactions became non-matters.

Takuma looked at Mikoto. "Ma'am, I will be a jonin of the Hidden Leaf one day. It's one of my new goals."

Mikoto laughed. "Your new goal is to be a jonin? I thought that was the goal of every child of your age. What was your goal till now?"

"The old goal doesn't matter, ma'am. Only the new one does."

"If you say so," said Mikoto, amused. "I expect to be treated to a lavish celebration worthy of a jonin when you achieve your goal."

"As you wish," Takuma said.

It didn't matter if he wasn't privileged to resources by his peers. If he wanted them, he just needed to get them in some other way, as he had done till now. Nothing had changed, only his goal. He simply needed to work harder, longer, smarter until he had everything he could ever want.

He hated this world, which made him hate his life.

No matter what it took, he was going to change that.

It was as simple as that.

The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Takuma looked at the time, and it wasn't the time for an academy student to be back home. When he focused on the footsteps, he realized they weren't from a child. The footsteps were heavy, uniform, disciplined, and strangely evoked a sense of authority.

He looked up at the door as the footsteps neared, and a figure Takuma recognized appeared at the door.

"Dear, you are home," Mikoto said in surprise. "Did you tell me you would have lunch at home?"

"No," said the man. "I came for some documents in my study."

The man had short, brown hair reaching his shoulders and onyx-colored eyes with visible creases below that gave him a naturally stern look. He wore the standard flak jacket, along with a black shirt with the Police Force symbol on the shoulders, shin guards, and a black, open-front apron with white diamonds on the bottom.

The man was Uchiha Fugaku, the Commander-in-Chief of the Leaf Military Police Force, the Head of the Uchiha Clan. One of the most politically powerful people in the Land of Fire, one of the shrewdest leaders through the generations, and one of the strongest shinobi in the Hidden Leaf, his talents were said to be only second to the Fourth Hokage, which made him one prime candidate for the same position.

Takuma stood up to greet his boss.

Fugaku turned his gaze to Takuma.

"This is Takuma," Mikoto introduced. She didn't introduce her husband; there was no need to.

Fugaku nodded in greeting, which Takuma returned with a deep bow.

"Now that you're here, would you like to have lunch?" asked Mikoto.

Fugaku nodded.

"Takuma, can we end our lesson here today?" Mikoto turned to Takuma.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll take my leave," said Takuma, reading the room.

But as he was picking up his newly-acquired genjutsu scrolls,

"Genin Takuma, seeing that your lesson ended early," said Fugaku. "I would like to have a conversation with you."