I was able to finish the exam barely on time. The moment the time ran out, the jonin clapped her hands together in a powerful motion, integrating chakra into the sound wave in an impressive show of control. The effect rippled through the hall, tearing everyone who was under a genjutsu out of it at once, which turned out to be almost half of the genin.
Their faces filled with confusion as they looked down at their papers. After reviewing a few answers, confusion turned into horror at the realization of what had happened. Some of them instinctively tried to fix their answers, but the jonin released her bloodlust, and almost every genin froze. She spoke with a voice dripping with the promise of violence. "If you touch the paper, I will personally break your arms."
Everyone gulped nervously as they felt their hopes of passing the written exam crumble. The jonin grinned. "Incredible. A lot of you failed this simple trick. If you went on a mission while being this unprepared and careless, you would die on the first assignment that proved even slightly harder than expected. Go home and retrain. Maybe next year." She smirked as those who knew they had failed turned and left, returning to their villages without even waiting for the written exam results.
We exited the hall and found Shisui standing nearby, looking a bit nervous as he waited for us, clearly worried about our performance. The moment he saw us approaching, he asked before we even reached him, concern evident in his voice. "How did it go?"
Sena replied, "They used a genjutsu to trick the genin. Luckily, we were able to break out of it."
Shisui nodded, satisfied. "Good. And the exam itself?"
"I did great," Sena answered with a pleasant smile. "And Kaen… kept up with me," she added lightly, the pause and emphasis saying far more than the words themselves.
Shisui caught on quickly to what she meant and glanced at Kaen, who was staring off to the side, suddenly very interested in a piece of paper drifting nearby.
Shisui sighed, then looked at me. "How about you, Noa?"
I gave him a thumbs up. "All good. Top ranking, I am sure. Though almost half of the applicants were expelled."
Concern crossed Shisui's face. "Why would they use such a harsh trick on genin? Are they trying to limit the number of people who earn the chunin rank?"
There was no answer. After a moment, he shook his head. "Alright. Let us go home. We will most likely get a day or two before the second phase of the exam starts."
We went back to our flat afterward. I cooked lunch, and we ate together in a rare stretch of quiet, letting the tension of the day slowly drain away as the sun began its descent. The heat eased just enough for people to venture outside. That was when I spoke up. "Sensei, I want to go for a walk. I would like to see more of this place."
Shisui nodded after a moment. "That is fine. Just do not get into trouble."
I nodded and stood, only for him to add something truly horrifying. "And do not fall for scams. If you buy anything, do not haggle."
My mouth fell open in disbelief. "Sensei," I said slowly, horrified, "that is like asking me not to breathe. You want me to intentionally accept greedy prices without fighting back?"
His expression remained serious. "Yes. We do not want Konoha gaining a bad reputation here, especially with merchants who may do business with us in the future."
I sighed deeply. "Yes, sensei," I replied, crossing my fingers behind my back. Kaen decided to stay behind to train, Sena said she would rest in her flat, and Shisui chose to remain home to avoid the now increasingly clingy Yura, leaving me as the only one heading out.
Outside, the sun had not yet set, but the heat still clung stubbornly to the streets. It did not stop me from wandering aimlessly, observing everything I could. The clothing was different here, looser and layered, designed to endure the environment. There were very few animals in sight. Most people looked hardened by the desert, their faces worn by wind and heat, yet there was a quiet glow in their eyes, a stubborn determination that said they intended to make this place thrive. I found myself admiring that.
After a long walk, I spotted someone selling kites. Children clustered nearby, and even a few adults lingered, watching the sky. I approached, and the merchant stiffened as he somehow recognized me, his posture immediately defensive. "What do you want?" he asked cautiously.
"I would like to buy a kite," I replied. "How much?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Two hundred ryo."
A tick appeared on my forehead. I had just seen him sell the same thing for that price to others, but still. "It is string, cloth, and wire," I said flatly. "How expensive can it be? How about fifty ryo?"
His eyes widened. "Are you crazy? That does not even cover the material, let alone the craftsmanship."
"What craftsmanship?" I shot back. "It is a kite."
The haggling began. Voices rose. Time passed. Slowly, painfully, the merchant realized what I was doing. I was holding up the line. Customers drifted away to other sellers. I could see the moment it broke him. With a defeated sigh, he agreed to my price.
I paid forty-nine ryo. I refused to make it a full number.
He muttered the word "tyrant" under his breath as I walked away with my new kite.
By then, less than an hour of sunlight remained. I followed the flow of people toward the top of the village wall, where families and friends gathered together. I sat among them, releasing the string slowly and letting the wind do the work. The air had finally cooled, carrying relief with it, and above us the sky filled with motion.
Kites of every color and shape danced overhead, painted with symbols, patterns, and careless joy. The desert sky became a living canvas, alive with movement and laughter. I leaned back, watching them sway and climb, and closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in the air with a quiet smile.
My moment of calm did not last forever. The kite string soon began to fight back as the air current grew stronger with the approaching night, the wind shifting direction without warning. I struggled against the pull as I moved along the wall, adjusting step by step. More and more people began to leave. Some children did not want to stay out too late and risk punishment. Others headed home to rest before another long day of work. I had no such restraints, so I let myself move with the wind.
After a long walk and constant effort, I finally managed to match the wind's direction. The kite stabilized somewhat near the Kazekage building. I tied the string to a rock along the wall and sat down. The sky was almost fully dark now, with only one other person nearby still flying a kite, which probably meant the area was not restricted.
I found myself drawn to how clear the night sky was. The darkness felt deep and pure, untouched by smoke or lantern light, allowing the stars to shine with a sharp, almost unreal clarity. They were scattered across the sky in quiet abundance, some bright and steady, others faint and distant, giving the heavens a sense of depth that pulled my gaze upward. I took out my notebook and began to draw, letting my hand move slowly as if afraid to disturb the stillness. At some point, a shooting star carved a brief, silent line across the sky. With no light pollution to dull it, I saw it perfectly, a fleeting spark against the endless dark. I barely looked up, sinking back into my sketch as the kite drifted lazily above and the cool night air settled my thoughts.
Then I heard a child's voice. "What are you doing?"
I smiled and looked back, wondering what a kid was doing out so late. "I am drawing the night sky," I replied.
That was when my eyes finally fell on the one who had spoken.
Right there stood Gaara, the jinchuriki of the One-Tail.