Hiro’s breath came slow and steady as he followed Shinji across the Academy’s training field. The te afternoon sun cast long shadows on the ground, stretching ominously over the packed dirt. Despite the warmth, a chill settled in Hiro’s stomach, his nerves tightening with anticipation. Every step felt heavier, the reality of his situation settling in. He was about to fight, not just for his pride, but for his future.

  Ahead, Nara Hisomu lounged on a bench, the picture of indifference. He looked bored, as if the outcome was already determined. A few meters away, Nara Daisuke stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders with an air of practiced ease. He was confident, rexed—completely at home on the field.

  Shinji stopped, letting out a slow breath as he crossed his arms. “You said a third-year student, not a cnmate—one who I’m also pretty sure is leading his css.”

  Hisomu smirked, his expression as zy as ever. “You didn’t ask which one.”

  Hiro’s grip tightened around his whip. He had faced challenges before, but none like this. Daisuke wasn’t just another Academy student—he was one of the best, someone who had already spent years honing his skills. Hiro had only just begun.

  The tension thickened as the two boys stepped forward. Shinji’s gaze flickered to Hiro. “Don’t hold back.”

  Hisomu barely lifted his head as he called out, “Begin.”

  Hiro reacted instantly. His whip shed forward, the tip cracking through the air as it struck Daisuke’s right arm. A red mark bloomed on the older boy’s skin. Hiro moved to press forward, to capitalize on his advantage, but suddenly—

  He couldn’t move.

  His body was frozen, locked in pce. He could feel the strain in his muscles, his will to move cshing against an unseen force. Panic flickered in his mind. His shadow stretched forward, merging seamlessly with Daisuke’s.

  Daisuke smirked. “You didn’t even think about why I stood here, did you?” His tone was light, amused, as though he were lecturing a younger student.

  “The afternoon sun extended your shadow forward. You practically handed me this match.”

  Hiro strained, but his limbs refused to obey. His fingers twitched against the handle of his whip before, to his horror, they moved on their own.

  His own hand reached down, fingers slipping into his weapon pouch. A kunai. His grip tightened around the cool metal. Slowly, agonizingly, his own arm lifted, bringing the bde to his throat.

  His heart pounded. His breath caught.

  “Stop! Match over.”

  The pressure lifted. His body was his again. Hiro colpsed to his knees, his chest heaving. He barely heard Daisuke’s chuckle as he rubbed at his arm where the whip had struck.

  “I assume the boy is fine to attend the Academy?” Shinji’s voice was unreadable.

  Hisomu let out a dry ugh. “Attend? He didn’t st ten seconds.”

  Shinji didn’t argue. Instead, he turned toward Hiro. “Show him your whip.”

  Hiro’s fingers trembled slightly as he uncurled them from the handle and handed the weapon to Hisomu.

  The Nara inspected it with mild disinterest. “Yes, it’s a whip, and he clearly knows how to use it, but what does that—”

  He stopped. His eyes narrowed.

  He gestured toward Daisuke. “Show me your arm.”

  Daisuke raised his arm, still massaging the sore spot. Hisomu leaned in, and his expression shifted. A dark splotch was beginning to form in the center of the welt.

  Hisomu’s gaze snapped back to the whip’s weighted crop, his fingers running over the small pstic piece lodged within.

  Ink.

  The realization settled over him, and he groaned. “Hiro is good to attend the Academy. I’ll have his adjusted paperwork in first thing in the morning.”

  Daisuke, still standing beside him, furrowed his brow. “Wait… I lost?”

  Hisomu sighed, gripping Daisuke’s wrist and turning it so the boy could see the bck splotch more clearly.

  “In a real fight, he would have switched that ink marker with poison. You would’ve lost control of your jutsu instantly. Maybe even died before realizing it.”

  Daisuke’s smirk faded. His mouth opened slightly, but he said nothing. The weight of the lesson was clear.

  Hisomu, perhaps feeling a bit merciful, reached out and ruffled Daisuke’s hair. “Better to learn that lesson here than from a Sand ninja with poisoned kunai.”

  By the time Shinji and Hiro rejoined the group, Aoi had arrived. She raised an eyebrow at Shinji in silent question. He simply smirked.

  Kaya was still irritated—Hiro could tell by the way she crossed her arms—but the moment she saw him walking toward her with a smile on his face, she softened. Her tension eased.

  Shinji cpped a hand on Hiro’s shoulder, his smirk deepening. “Well, I think that calls for a celebration.”

  Natsume brightened. “BBQ?”

  Shinji chuckled. “BBQ.”

  Natsume cheered, already tugging on Hiro’s sleeve, her earlier worry forgotten. Hiro, still processing the events of the day, let himself be pulled along. The tension, the fear, the sheer uncertainty of the st few hours faded under the warmth of the people around him.

  For the first time since stepping onto that field, he let himself smile. His path as a shinobi had officially begun.