The air was crisp that morning; sharp enough to sting the lungs yet warm enough to hint that spring was just around the corner. Mist clung low to the courtyard stones of the Academy, curling like lazy smoke around the students' sandals.
It was exam day.
Dozens of first-year students were gathered in neat but restless rows before the main building. The Academy's tall wooden façade loomed over them, the Konoha emblem carved above the entryway catching the early light.
Satoru stood somewhere in the middle of the assembly, flanked by Ito and Ayano. His expression was calm; too calm for someone about to take their first major step as a shinobi. To anyone else, he looked detached; to himself, he was cataloguing everything; the tension in the crowd, the layout of the grounds, the exact count of instructors stationed around the edges.
He never stopped observing.
At the front of the group, Shibata Haru cleared his throat loudly. The sound cut clean through the morning air like the crack of a branch.
"Ka-hem."
The chatter faltered. Dozens of heads turned toward him at once. Haru's voice, deep but unhurried, carried across the courtyard. "Good morning, students," he began, hands clasped behind his back. "I trust you've all had enough rest, and I hope you've made good use of your preparation time."
Satoru caught the subtle curl of Haru's lip, not quite a smile. There was something faintly amused about the man, like he'd already seen through their nerves and was quietly enjoying it.
From beside him, Ito leaned closer, whispering, or at least, what he thought was whispering. "Hey, isn't that the guy from the exams last time? Does he, like, only show up for exams?"
Satoru's eye twitched. Ayano sighed through her nose, flicking Ito smartly on the back of his head.
"Thwack!"
"Of course not, idiot. The Academy has different classes and instructors. He probably handles another year group when he's not terrifying first-years."
"Ow!" Ito rubbed the spot, glaring. "Was that necessary? You could've just said it."
"Apparently, you only respond to physical communication," Ayano shot back, her tone flat as a blade's edge.
Before Ito could retort, Satoru cut in quietly, eyes still fixed on the instructor. "Both of you. Quiet. Focus. He's about to say something important."
That did it. Ayano crossed her arms and looked forward. Ito scowled but obeyed. Around them, a few other students exchanged knowing grins at the familiar bickering, an odd comfort amid the tension.
Haru's voice rolled on, even and steady. "I hope you've all prepared enough for your exams," he said, pausing deliberately. His gaze swept the crowd; measured, assessing. The students shifted under his eyes like leaves caught in a breeze.
"Of course, even if you haven't, you'll still have to take them."
A ripple of laughter, half nervous, half genuine, broke through the crowd, quickly followed by murmurs. Someone in the back muttered something about unfairness; another hissed at them to shut up.
Haru raised one gloved hand, palm out. "Settle down." The murmuring faded almost instantly. "Now," he continued, "it's time to reveal the outline for today's exams."
At that, Satoru straightened slightly, a flicker of anticipation sharpening behind his eyes.
'Finally.'
The students weren't as disciplined. Their muttering came in waves — questions, guesses, groans. One boy, a few rows ahead, turned to his friend with a grimace. "Why couldn't they just tell us this yesterday? Would've been nice to, you know, prepare properly."
His friend snorted. "You're in the wrong place if you expect fairness, genius. A shinobi's supposed to be ready anytime. You can't ask your enemy for a study guide."
"Yeah?" the first boy shot back, smirking. "Then maybe you should fight my lack of sleep and see how ready you are."
A few students chuckled. Even Haru's eyebrow twitched; barely perceptible, but there. Then he continued, his tone brisk. "The exam will consist of two major parts."
Instant quiet.
"The first part," he said, "is the Written Examination. This will assess your foundational knowledge. The written exams will take place in the Academy's main hall and will run through the morning. You'll be given three separate papers, each focused on different disciplines."
He paused, letting that sink in.
The murmur returned, louder this time. "Three exams?!" a girl gasped somewhere to the right. "All in one morning?"
Satoru could hear the low rumble of complaints spreading like ripples in a pond.
One boy groaned dramatically. "Do we even get a break?"
Another added, "And he didn't even say what subjects! What if it's all theory? I'm doomed!"
"Quiet," Haru said again, voice like the crack of thunder. The courtyard stilled. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned the crowd. "The subjects will be revealed at the start of the written portion. Complaining won't change that. A shinobi must be ready to adapt."
Satoru hid a small smirk.
Haru continued. "The second part of your exam will take place this afternoon, the Physical Examination. It will be conducted on the Academy's training grounds, where your instructors will evaluate your technique, control, and combat awareness."
He clasped his hands behind his back again, pacing slowly before the rows of students. "This will include both an obstacle course and practical sparring. You will be graded not only on victory, but on observation and adaptability."
A wave of murmurs swelled again, more nervous this time. Some students traded panicked looks; others cracked their knuckles like they'd been waiting for this part all along.
Takeshi Inuzuka, standing a few groups away with his pup, Maro peeking out of his jacket, let out a loud whistle. "Obstacle course and sparring? Finally! Thought we'd spend the whole day scribbling."
The boy beside him muttered, "You would say that."
Haru clapped his hands once. "Clap!"
The sound was sharp enough to break the rising chatter. "Form your lines. You'll enter the main hall in groups. Keep order; keep quiet."
The students shuffled into motion. Rows bent and straightened into uneven lines as the chatter turned into low grumbles.
"Here we go," Ito said, exhaling. "I hate written stuff. Bet they're gonna test chakra theory first. Always chakra theory."
"Or history," Ayano replied. "You keep forgetting the founding dates."
"Those are boring!"
"They're necessary," she countered coolly.
Satoru said nothing, stepping into line beside them. He could hear other groups behind him muttering, the familiar sound of stress and speculation. To him, it was noise; background static. His focus was already shifting inward, organising what he knew; the principles of chakra control, hand-seal sequencing, and the basics of formation strategy.
This was the easy part. Paper couldn't lie. Politics could. People could. But ink and logic? Those he could master.
The line began to move, one step at a time.
"Shff. Shff." Sandals against stone. The tall double doors of the main hall loomed ahead, massive wooden slabs reinforced with iron, carved with the leaf insignia. Two instructors stood guard, their flak jackets crisp and identical. One held a clipboard, checking off names.
Inside, the sound changed. The world outside was swallowed by the muted hush of the exam hall. Rows upon rows of low desks filled the space, each one perfectly aligned. Sunlight spilt through the high windows, reflecting off the polished floorboards. The smell of ink and parchment was strong enough to taste.
Satoru entered with his group, scanning the room automatically. Every detail logged itself in his mind; exits, instructor positions, sight lines. The hall was large enough to fit three classes comfortably, but every desk had been spaced just far enough apart to discourage cheating. Typical.
He found his seat in the third row. Ito and Ayano ended up at one desk over. Ito looked like he was already sweating.
"This is it," he whispered hoarsely, bouncing one leg. "I'm gonna fail."
Ayano sighed. "Then at least fail quietly."
From the front of the room, Haru's voice cut through again. "Settle down. Keep your scrolls closed until instructed. No talking once the exam begins."
The rustle of papers, the creak of wood as students sat straighter. A faint cough. Then, silence.
The sound of footsteps echoed as instructors moved between rows, setting down small stacks of folded booklets on each desk.
"Thump. Slide. Thump."
The rhythm was steady, almost ritualistic. Satoru's gaze flicked briefly upward each time the sound drew nearer.
His turn came. The booklet landed on his desk with a soft tap.
He stared at it for a moment. Brown parchment cover. The ink seal of the Academy was stamped on the corner, still drying slightly. Across the top in bold, clean characters were the words:
SHINOBI FUNDAMENTALS
Satoru's lips curved slightly — not quite a smile, but close.
'Figures.'
Haru's voice rang out — "You may begin" — a hundred pens scratched against parchment at once.
"Shhhk. Shhhk."
The exam had begun.
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