The second year of the academy began without ceremony. Takuma strode into the classroom with his usual half-lidded eyes and a steaming cup of tea, but this time, his tone was sharper.
"Year One was foundation," he said, chalk tapping against the board. "Year Two is survival. By the end of this year you should be able to live in the field, complete missions, and return alive. Fail, and you won't live long as shinobi."
On the board, he scrawled the words: Survival, Three Body Techniques, Stealth, Mission Basics, Teamwork, Electives.
The six students sat straighter. None of them laughed.
⸻
The first months dragged them out of the classroom and into the mountains. Mornings began with E-rank survival jutsu — fire sparks for warmth, wind to clear ground, earth to flatten terrain.
At first, it was chaos. Tetsuo nearly burned his sleeve off, Karui's gusts sent her tumbling, and Omoi muttered about wildfires spreading across Kumo. Reina's shelters collapsed twice before she cursed loud enough to scare the birds away.
Raizen, steady as ever, shaped his chakra into small, clean flames, precise gusts, and firm ground. Takuma gave only a grunt, but Raizen caught the faint flicker of approval in his eyes.
Once they could build a camp, Takuma forced them to live in it. They rotated guard duty through stormy nights, navigated with error-filled maps, and learned to trust stars, wind, and the lay of the mountains.
Raizen's hearing gave him an edge in fog and storm, letting him sense what others missed. But he said little, keeping his advantage close.
By the end of three months, their hands were calloused, their clothes smelled of smoke and rain, and none of them flinched when Takuma woke them at dawn.
⸻
The next term was devoted to the tools of every shinobi: the Three Body Jutsu, stealth, and the basics of missions.
Clone Jutsu produced smoke and balloon-shaped disasters at first. Karui's clones collapsed with crooked limbs, Omoi's muttered apologies before fading, and Tetsuo's puffed out like lopsided scarecrows. Raizen's were clean and crisp, fewer in number but sharp enough to fool.
Transformation Jutsu drew laughter when Karui turned herself into a perfect image of Takuma, mimicking his bored drawl until even Samui cracked a smile. Reina's disguises looked flawless but broke down when she moved. Raizen's forms were steady, but his stiff acting earned Takuma's jab: "Looking the part means nothing if you can't play it."
Substitution Jutsu tested reflexes. Reina excelled, swapping with logs mid-swing of her blade. Omoi froze too long, eating more hits than he dodged. Raizen's hearing gave him the edge, letting him substitute just before the strike landed.
Then came stealth drills. Takuma dropped them in the forest and hunted them like prey. Karui twitched too much, Reina moved too soon, Tetsuo's bulk betrayed him. Samui blended like a shadow, Omoi muttered himself into discovery, and Raizen lasted longest, slipping deeper into cover at the faintest crunch of Takuma's boots.
Finally, mock missions. Escort drills, courier runs, and scroll retrievals tested their coordination. At first, it was chaos — Reina barking orders, Karui rushing ahead, Omoi lagging behind. Raizen forced himself to hold back, to plan, to direct. For the first time, their group resembled a squad.
⸻
The third term pushed them further: teamwork, tactical thinking, physical growth, and clan education.
Morning drills hammered formations into their bones. Takuma rotated them through roles: leader, scout, defender, support. They stumbled, argued, and clashed until bruises outnumbered successes. Slowly, however, they learned to move as one.
Afternoons were spent in the strategy hall, poring over old battle maps. Samui's sharp eye absorbed details calmly. Reina argued over historical choices, Karui nodded off, and Omoi spiraled through endless "what if"s. Raizen said little but studied carefully, sketching counter-formations in his notes. No plan survives first contact, Takuma reminded them. Think three steps ahead.
Evenings broke their bodies down. Weighted runs up cliffs, taijutsu spars until their arms shook, rope climbs that left palms bleeding. Tetsuo grew into endurance, Karui into frightening speed, Omoi into lean resilience. Raizen blended clan drills with academy grinds, his hearing sharpening until he could predict strikes by breath alone — though the strain often left his temples throbbing.
Once a week, they were pulled into cultural lectures. Clan heads and jonin spoke of Kumo's history, Raikage lineages, and duty. Reina listened with folded arms, proud. Samui absorbed quietly. Omoi doodled until Takuma cuffed him. For Raizen, these nights cut deep — Ayame and Jairo reminded him that heirship was more than strength; it was legacy.
⸻
The final term introduced the electives of Year Three.
Takuma called it "a menu before the meal." Over three months, the six sampled every path.
• Ninjutsu: sparks, flames, and whips of water filled the yard. Reina's sword flared with chakra, Karui carved with wind, and Raizen's control shaped clean, heavy-feeling jutsu.
• Taijutsu & Weapon Arts: Tetsuo thrived, Samui was efficient, Karui wild, and Raizen steady but still rough when bound by academy form.
• Genjutsu: Takuma warped their senses with whispers and shadows. Omoi panicked, Reina tried to cut illusions apart, Samui analyzed calmly. Raizen dispelled quickly — his Yin chakra sensitive, his control sharp.
• Kenjutsu: Reina dominated, Karui reckless, Tetsuo clumsy. Raizen's hearing let him track blades, but the weapon still felt foreign in his hands.
• Medical Jutsu: glowing palms knit shallow cuts. Omoi turned pale, Samui was calm, and Raizen excelled, his chakra precise and steady.
• Leadership & Tactics: mock missions placed each as commander. Reina barked, Omoi overanalyzed, Karui charged alone. Raizen hesitated, then issued sharp, simple orders that carried the day.
• Sealing Arts: storage scrolls and binding tags demanded precision. Most stumbled. Raizen's strokes flowed with rare steadiness, the hum of chakra feeling strangely right in his hands.
By the end of the term, the six sat exhausted before Takuma.
"You've survived storms. Learned deception. Grown as a team. And now, you've glimpsed the paths ahead," he said. "Next year, you'll choose — ninjutsu, taijutsu, weapons, genjutsu, kenjutsu, medical, tactics, sealing. Choose wisely. A shinobi's future isn't forged in a day."
⸻
The six filed out, buzzing with debate — Reina declaring Kenjutsu, Karui boasting of Ninjutsu, Omoi muttering about Medical despite his pale face.
Raizen walked silently, the decision already clear in his heart: Genjutsu for Yin. Medical for Yang. Sealing for balance. The foundation of the storm he would one day wield.
He looked up at the thunderclouds gathering over Kumogakure, his blind eye throbbing faintly. A smile tugged at his lips.
Year Two was survival. Year Three will be destiny.