The morning sun slipped through my window like it was showing off. Mira was already up, muttering to himself over some scrolls as I combed my hair – yeah you still have to do that in a world where people can breath fire.
"Good luck today," he said without looking up. "You'll ace it. I've already seen what you can do."
"Thanks," I muttered, trying to sound modest. But he saw the smirk I couldn't hide.
The streets of Konoha were alive in a way they never were when I trained in the compound. Children ran in every direction—some were laughing, some stared grimly ahead, some barely had shoes on their feet. Orphans. So many orphans.
The Academy building looked Overstuffed with hundreds of children running around, a few teachers pacing. I noticed the proctors first—three of them standing near the entrance, arms crossed, looking bored but official. The way they moved, they had clearly never made it beyond Genin level. I snorted under my breath. Well, at least I'll never be one of them.
Inside, children were directed into groups. Each was given a series of exercises: basic footwork, running, jumping, pacour and a bit of theory which was actually just asking about patriotic shit. Laughably easy.
I moved through it almost automatically, barely breaking a sweat, mentally noting the ones who panicked trying to balance on a branch.
"Now," a proctor barked, "feel the chakra and move it - even a little bit will be enough ".
A few children froze, unable to feel their own chakra. Other tried to argue but were promptly shut up by the proctors.
By the end of the morning, the scores came in. Only about a quarter of the students passed. Tears, triumphant cheers, frustrated grumbles. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Then came the ceremony. The doors opened, and the Hokage himself walked in, tall and commanding, every step carrying weight and authority. He paused at the front, scanning the room, his eyes settling briefly on each group of students. A smile played on his lips, but there was steel behind it.
"Congratulations to those who passed!" he began, voice carrying through the hall like a drumbeat. "Today, you are no longer simply children running through the streets of Konoha. Today, you are recognized as the next generation of shinobi. Those of you who succeeded have demonstrated something far beyond raw ability. You have shown courage, perseverance, and the first spark of what it truly means to dedicate your life to the village."
He gestured at the students holding their certificates, some trembling, some beaming. "You will not always be praised for your successes. There will be missions that challenge you in ways you cannot imagine. There will be decisions that weigh upon your heart, tests that demand more than your body can endure. It is in those moments that the strength of Konoha, and the strength within each of you, will be revealed."
He stepped closer to the students, lowering his voice slightly so it drew them in, like a teacher telling a story. "The Will of Fire is not a legend. It is a flame that burns in each shinobi's heart. It is the courage to protect your friends, the loyalty to your village, and the willingness to sacrifice for the people who depend on you. That flame is what keeps Konoha alive. That flame is what will guide you in the darkest of times."
The Hokage's gaze swept across the room again, landing briefly on each young face. "Remember this day. Remember the feeling of accomplishment, of pride. But also remember the responsibility you carry. Each choice, each mission, each moment of hesitation can shape the future of your village. You are not simply learning jutsu. You are learning to hold Konoha in your hands, to protect it, and to embody its spirit in all that you do."
He raised a hand, palm open, toward the students. "Walk forward with your heads held high and carry the fire of this village in your hearts. You are the shield, the sword, and the hope of Konoha. Protect your home, honour your teachers, your families, and your clans. And above all, never forget that every action you take as a shinobi shapes the legacy you leave behind."
Applause filled the hall. Some children beamed, some stiffened under the weight of expectation. Chest-pounding pride.
All of it, of course, because nothing says "I'm ready to risk my life for this village" quite like being told you're a hero by some guy in a fancy robe.
I straightened up as the applause died down, still shaking my head. So shameless. Brainwashing children like it's the most normal thing in the world. Next, they'll be telling toddlers to carry shuriken before they can even tie their shoes.
My eyes drifted to the tall, commanding figure of the Hokage, still smiling at the kids, every word perfectly polished, every gesture calculated. And suddenly, a thought pricked at the back of my mind: So… that's Hiruzen, huh? Is he Good or Bad? Canon wasn't clear about that.
The way he spoke, the way he smiled—it all sounded heroic. Inspiring. Yet… there was something carefully controlled, almost too neat. A mask, maybe. Or just confidence. Either way, it made me wonder. How much of him is really Hiruzen, and how much is the image everyone wants to see?
That question, silent and uninvited, settled in my chest. Because the answer… might very well decide what I could do, and what I had to do, in the days to come.