Chapter 16

Sunagakure ninja schooling operated on a three year standard curriculum for minimum possible graduation as a full-fledged low-ranked ninja, a Genin. Most students enter the academy at age nine, spend three years learning, then take a test at the end of the third year to either graduate or need to spend another year in the academy.

Of the ninja who graduated and became Genin, they were usually signed on as students for an existing high-rank ninja, a Jonin. The Jonin had the authority and responsibility of being both a team-leader and an educator, something of a holdover from the days of pure apprenticeships from what he understood. It was still a system that worked well enough that no one had bothered changing it yet.

Low rank ninja get both protection and leadership from higher ranked ninja, and eventually come into their own as mid-ranked ninja. One day they might become high ranked ninja too, but usually not. Teaching the next generation was something Jonin had a lot of intangible incentives for, but most practically is that it gave them time to relax a bit and take overall easier missions without needing to justify why.

‘No, sorry lord Kazekage, I can’t do that S-rank mission. I’m teaching kids you see?’

Something like that, Ryoma figured. Either that or a sense of outstanding patriotism, either would work.

He raised a hand as he approached the security in front of the academy gates, an old guard named Chiaomaru, which was a very funny name. Flat brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and an easy-going smile on his half-tanned face. Evidence of a habit of keeping the eyes shadowed but not much else.

“Well I’ll be- Ryoma back again- you’re not here to study more are you?” Chiaomaru asked with a tilt of his head, flashing the hourly security handsign at him. Ryoma flashed it back before shaking his head.

“Not anymore, Chiao. Lord Kazekage asked me to teach the remedial batch this year.”

The guard let out a little laugh, leaning on his naginata. “No shit? Haha- How’d you get him mad enough for that?”

“I needed some time off to repair my puppets.” Ryoma shrugged. “Room 2N, right?”

“Yeah, that’s about right.” Chiaomaru huffed. “I’ll have to tell Miss Kiku her favorite little fluffball is back.”

“Please don’t.” Ryoma deadpanned, shaking his head with the guard’s laugh as he entered the vaguely hive-shaped building. It was a sort of tall, oblong sphere in shape, as were most of the buildings in Sunagakure. He wasn’t exactly sure why.

There was a central staircase shaft which led out onto several floors, with each room being a sort of ‘slice’ out of the circular building. It was confusing for a few years but he supposed normal square buildings wouldn’t be fashionable enough.

Many of the buildings were made by compressing a great deal of sand into stone through one jutsu, then using hiding like a mole and similar techniques to hollow the giant boulder out afterwards. In such a method buildings could be erected in less than a day by trained professionals- Ryoma had watched them do it once, it was pretty neat. It lowered the logistical requirements of building a great deal, and turned normally unusable sand into something you could live in to a reasonable extent.

He made his way through the entrance hall, ignoring the secondary guard under disguise as a lamp, and into the central staircase shaft. Room 2N, second floor, north side.

The normal academy curriculum took only three years for minimum completion, but there was no condition on entering earlier and staying in the academy for longer than usual. There was a certain degree of expectations and pressure associated with it- a late-teenager in the academy is going to be judged for a reason.

But if a very young child signs up to the academy then studies until the normal graduation date? That’s a bit unusual but not something normal ninja are going to feel strongly about one way or another. Ryoma himself had entered the academy pretty much as soon as he could stand up and walk around, and stayed in until he was twelve.

A four-year old doing his best to train made for some really engaging visual comedy, but no one had tried to stop him. Most importantly it gave him an extra five years to hone himself before graduating as a Genin on schedule, which was still not really enough time to be safe in an all-out ninja war. At a certain point you simply can’t improve anymore without waiting to mature and for your body to properly develop.

Did Ryoma let himself graduate early after realizing that? Absolutely not. He was not going to waste free prep time like that, but his progress still slowed significantly after a certain point. There was a practical limit to how dangerous a toddler could be, even with magic, and turning said toddlers into effective soldiers was a pretty gargantuan task.

Thankfully, he wasn’t teaching actual toddlers, he wasn’t really sure if he could. These kids were only three years younger than him.

He opened the door- cactus wood- and entered the prepared classroom. A small crowd of eyes turned towards him, the mood of the room overall somber and brooding, a bunch of twelve year olds quietly sitting. All of them had little headbands on with the hourglass-symbol of Sunagakure, certified fully graduated Genin.

He stepped over to the central desk, next to the interior wall, and calmly started to lay out a number of scrolls on the surface.

He probably should’ve practiced this more. “As I’m sure all of you are aware-” He began to speak, clearly and deliberately. “-You are all here because of a combination of circumstance and decision. All of you have passed, and are now fully qualified Genin.” He set the last scroll down before standing up straight and letting his eyes boredly wander over the gathered students.

“But, for whatever reason, the Jonins who volunteered to be teachers this year have all rejected you as students. I won’t get into whatever their decision making was, it could be a lack of talent, a conflict of personality, or even just whim on their part. It doesn’t really matter at this point. This left you all with two options- either self-organize into teams and start taking missions on your own, or attend these supplementary lessons before properly starting your career.”

He shrugged. “As you are all here, I’m going to assume you feel like you could use a bit more practice before heading out on proper missions.”

“Wait!” A boy cried out with brows furrowed and lips pulled down into a scowl. Sandy brown hair, green eyes, and brown mesh poncho. “-You mean we can just start doing missions, even without a Sensei?!”

“In the future, I’d ask that you raise your hand first.” Ryoma tilted his head. “It’s gonna be hard to corral all of you if everyone’s trying to speak at once, and all that.”

The kid gave a little flinch at that. Ryoma nodded. “But to answer your question, yes you can. You have all graduated as Genin, you are fully qualified to organize into teams of four and start taking missions if you want. The reason this is typically not done is because the casualty rate is about twice that of normal.”

There was a tense and nervous quiet at that, so Ryoma continued to elaborate. “With a Jonin sensei, the attrition rate for Genin varies anywhere from twenty-five to forty percent depending on which ninja village you live in and if we’re currently at war or not. Sunagakure prides itself in having a Genin attrition rate of only about twenty percent, Kumo has the highest at around thirty five percent- but that’s just because Kiri has half of their academy students die before actual graduation, so they don’t technically count as Genin.”

He shrugged. “Of course, those are only the public numbers that the villages use to brag and advertise with- the actual numbers are almost certainly different. But all those numbers consistently double or triple without a Jonin sensei present in a team- Suna attrition rates jump from twenty to fifty percent, for example.”

“I count about twenty people in this classroom. With a Jonin, an estimated four of you would be dead before reaching Chunin. Without a Jonin, ten.”

“H-hey hey- that’s not- we can avoid that by playing it safe on our missions though, right?!” Another student simply called out without raising her hand. A girl with black hair and pale blue eyes with a distinctly worried expression on her face. She was wearing a fashionable blue sash that read ‘Frosty!’ on it, which was funny to see in a desert.

“To a certain extent, yes.” Ryoma nodded, raising his hands in an assuring manner. “There’s a number of practices that can be implemented to increase your overall survivability, and if diligently implemented, your chances of survival will shoot up significantly. It’s not perfect, of course, sometimes you’re just going to run into an enemy that you can do nothing except die against- like one of the Sannin or Hanzo or such, but in general prioritizing safety will give consistent returns.”

A student finally raised their hand properly, a boy with bright pink hair and a frustrated scowl on his face. Actually looking at it, the students were definitely skewed towards females. Thirteen girls in this class to seven boys. “Yes, second row.” Ryoma called out.

“I thought this was going to be lessons to make us strong ninja, what gives huh!?” It sounded like one of those boisterous shonen types, the kind with a chip on their shoulder about getting powerful fast for whatever reason.

Those types tended to die fast or become very scary, with little in-between.

“It is- do you know what the absolute best way to become a strong ninja is?” Ryoma asked, before pausing and waving a hand. “Actually- question for the whole class here, what do you think the best way to become a strong ninja is.”

“Training every day!”
“Talent!”
“A bloodline limit!”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
“Good food!”
“Good teacher!”
“Secret Jutsu!”

A lot of answers shouted out at him all at once, mostly from the boys. The girls seemed to be a quiet majority with a handful of exceptions. He supposed that wasn’t really surprising. He raised a hand and wiggled it in a ‘kinda sorta’ manner. “All of those things are important, yes, but they’re not the most important in my experience.” As little of that as he had. “The most important thing..?”

He let the question linger to build suspense, making sure they leaned in to listen to him. Once the silence had hung around just long enough, he raised a finger and dispelled it. “Staying alive.”

They were quiet for a few moments.

“…Isn’t that kinda redundant? Not dying is a good way to not die?” One of the girls in the front row questioned with her head tilted back a bit and a befuddled look on her face.

“Not quite.” Ryoma shook his head. “It’s simply a matter of time. All of you are Genin, none of you have had more than about five or ten years of consistent training and experience as ninja. This is on top of your still-developing bodies holding you back physically.” He gave a little wave. “The average Chunin? They’re older than you so they have a more developed body, they have more experience in doing missions, and they have more time to train and practice their skills.”

“The fact is, just staying alive is a victory. Every day you stay alive is another day you have to develop and refine as a ninja. You don’t need secret jutsu, or a good teacher, or good food, or anything else like that to become strong. All of those things help, but the most important thing is just staying alive and having more time to practice.”

“B-but, what about the mission, isn’t that more important than our lives?” An orange-haired girl asked this with the kind of innocent conviction that only an indoctrinated child soldier could.

“Sometimes, yes.” Ryoma replied. “A mission itself, inherently, is just a job. It’s good to keep a wider perspective about what any given mission actually accomplishes for the village. If you have a mission to rescue a cat- chances are it’s not worth dying for. If you have a mission to protect the Kazekage, chances are it’s worth dying for.”