Raizen returned home with his parents. The golden crest of the Elite Class still burned in his mind, but the memory of Reina's hand crushing his throat weighed just as heavy. His fists clenched so tight his nails bit into flesh until blood welled from his palm.
Never again. I'll never lose like that again.
Jairo noticed. His sharp gaze softened just slightly.
"That's it, son. Use that anger — temper it into drive. You've been working harder than anyone expected, and we've all seen it. Keep that same fire, and one day you will stand at the peak of this world."
Before Raizen could reply, Jairo surprised him by pulling him into a firm embrace. "Don't let this loss chain you down. Yes, you were blessed to be a Tsukihana, but not every Tsukihana was blessed with the mind you have. Trust me, boy — you'll rise above all of them. You'll show them who you really are."
Raizen stiffened, shocked at this rare display of kindness. Slowly, he leaned into it. I'll be better. Stronger. I swear it.
That night at dinner, Taro added his own words: "Failure is a gift, young master. Now you know the wall. And you know what must be broken."
Raizen went to bed sore, but that knot in his stomach had changed. Not fear — determination. His will was tempered like steel.
⸻
The next morning, he woke an hour earlier than needed. He sat cross-legged with his notebook, forcing himself to reassess.
Chakra: Large reserves, decent control. He needed to keep daily exercises, no excuses.
Physical: Strength and endurance were among the best, but his speed and reactions were lacking. His loss to Reina proved it. He decided to scale back heavy conditioning — enough to build slowly — and dedicate extra time to speed drills and reaction training.
Taijutsu: Still unrefined. Until he proved himself to Taro, he'd keep training alone, drilling the "Fist of Falling Stars" basics.
Academy curriculum: The school would handle theory, weapons, and survival basics. That freed time.
Advanced studies: Mornings for sealing basics, evenings for Aether Lightning chakra nature training.
He closed his notes, satisfied. This way, every breath I take pushes me forward.
Dressed in the new academy uniform — the sigil of the Elite Class stitched on his shoulder — Raizen ate breakfast quietly with his parents. His mother brought him to the Academy herself, her calm presence steadying him more than words.
The crowd was smaller than exam day, but still hundreds strong. Kumogakure clearly poured its soul into the Academy, turning numbers into strength.
"Raizen!"
Daichi, Aika, and Mizue rushed to him, faces bright. They peppered him with questions, teasing him, but their concern lingered.
Raizen exhaled and said plainly, "I want in on your training sessions. I've got weaknesses… and I need your help to patch them up."
Daichi froze, stunned. The Raizen he remembered would never admit weakness, let alone lean on others. "You… want to train with us?"
Aika grinned wide. "About time you asked! We'll whip you into shape.
Mizue laughed. "And in return, you can help us boost our chakra control. Fair trade!"
Raizen felt the weight in his chest ease. They weren't rivals. They were his anchor.
Then the chūnin instructors arrived, calling out class numbers. Students filed out in groups of thirty. One by one, the courtyard emptied — until only a handful remained.
The Elite Class.
Raizen glanced around.
Samui, silent in the corner, arms folded, her cool presence like a wall no one could climb.
Karui, fiery red hair whipping as she argued loudly with Omoi about some trivial detail.
Omoi, hands gesturing as he overthought every possibility, his words fast and precise.
Reina, off to the side, chin high, eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of being here.
Tetsuo, tossing a kunai in one hand, a grin carved across his face like he already owned the room.
Raizen straightened his shoulders. This was his class now — rivals, threats, and one day… allies.
And he would rise among them.
Then the sound of slow, dragging footsteps broke through the tension.
A man in his early thirties shuffled into view, hands in his pockets, posture slouched like he'd rather be anywhere else. His jōnin vest hung open over a loose long-sleeved shirt, sleeves rolled up. His hair was tied back messily, stubble shadowed his jaw, and dark bags sat under half-lidded eyes. A faint curl of smoke trailed from the cigarette dangling in his fingers.
He stubbed it out on the stone wall, exhaled, then gave the group a lazy wave.
"Yo."
The six blinked in disbelief. This was their Elite instructor?
Karui scowled. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Omoi rubbed his chin nervously. "Wait, is this a test? Like, he looks unreliable, but maybe that's the trick, and he's secretly dangerous. Or maybe he really is just lazy and we're doomed—"
"Shut up," Karui snapped.
Samui barely reacted, just muttered, "Unprofessional."
Tetsuo laughed, spinning his kunai. "Finally, someone who doesn't act like they've got a stick in their spine."
Reina folded her arms, unimpressed. "Figures. The Academy wastes the 'Elite' on a man who can't even stand up straight."
Raizen, though, watched carefully. Something about the man's eyes didn't match his demeanor. Half-lidded or not, they swept the group with surgical precision.
The man scratched his cheek, then yawned. "Name's Genshiro Takuma. I'm your new babysitter. Congratulations — or condolences — you're in the Elite Class. Try not to make me regret it."
He stretched his arms lazily, then gestured for them to follow. "C'mon. I'll show you around before I lose the motivation."
⸻
The Tour
They trailed after him through the Academy halls. Takuma walked with the pace of someone half-asleep, but he pointed things out with casual precision.
"Training yard. You'll bleed there often. Don't complain."
"Library. Half of you won't use it, and I'll know exactly which half." His eyes flicked toward Karui, who clicked her tongue, and Omoi, who looked immediately guilty.
"Medical wing. You'll end up here sooner or later. Hopefully later." His gaze lingered on Raizen's still-bruised throat.
Though his voice was flat, his eyes missed nothing. He noted how Reina's steps were sharp and impatient, how Samui never strayed from the group but never spoke, how Tetsuo bumped shoulders with anyone near him just to provoke a reaction. He didn't comment — not yet.
Finally, he stopped in front of a large classroom. Sliding the door open, he waved them in.
"Homeroom. Get used to it. Six years of staring at these walls unless one of you dies or washes out."
The room was spartan — neat rows of desks, a blackboard scarred by years of chalk, a single window overlooking the training field.
Takuma leaned against the desk at the front, arms folded, his yawn half-hidden behind his sleeve.
⸻
The Six-Year Plan
"Here's the deal. You're in the Elite Class, which means the Academy expects you to become more than fodder. You'll still do the regular curriculum — history, math, chakra theory, blah blah — but you'll also train harder and longer than the rest."
He raised a finger, ticking off points.
"Year one and two: foundation. Chakra control, basic taijutsu, academy-level jutsu. We'll grind you down to see who can keep up.
Year three and four: refinement. Elemental release, teamwork, survival scenarios. Some of you will start specializing.
Year five and six: combat readiness. Advanced jutsu, field simulations, and missions outside the village. By graduation, you'll either be ready to lead… or you'll break."
He shrugged lazily, but his eyes sharpened as he scanned them one by one.
"Karui — you've got speed and fire, but you're reckless. That'll get you killed."
"Omoi — too much thinking. You'll freeze if you don't learn to trust your instincts."
"Samui — good control, but don't think I don't notice the way you distance yourself. You'll need more than cool composure in a fight."
"Tetsuo — strength's fine. But if you keep swinging like a hammer, I'll personally break your fingers until you learn finesse."
"Reina — you're sharp, fast, dangerous… but arrogance will eat you alive if you let it."
"And Raizen…" his gaze lingered, not unkindly. "You've got power and will, but you're bleeding weakness all over that blind side. Learn to patch it, or your story ends in the dirt."
The room fell into silence. The lazy drawl never left his voice, but every word cut like truth.
Takuma yawned again, then clapped his hands once. "That's it. Six years. Try not to bore me."
The students glanced at each other, tension simmering, rivalries already forming.
Raizen's fists clenched under the desk. Six years. That's all the time I have to climb past every one of them.
Outside, thunder rolled faintly across the peaks.