But even if it is fierce, so what? In Moyu's eyes, children are many, but his two are destined to stand above the rest. They are his pride—his proof of strength.
Once the class had assembled at the test grounds, the first assessment began. The initial trial was simple: the Clone Technique.
Moyu stood among the parents, his eyes fixed on the two figures at the front. His nerves tightened for only a breath—because Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto did not disappoint.
In a burst of chakra, dozens of clones appeared, filling the room until it looked as though an entire army of children had materialized. Forty, perhaps fifty illusions danced and flickered with life.
The other students struggled; some could not summon a single proper clone, others barely managed one that could stand. But Moyu had no such concerns. His two stood effortlessly beyond comparison—no need for a second attempt. To produce so many clones at once spoke volumes of their control.
They passed the first trial with ease. The second test focused on taijutsu—physical technique.
This too was Moyu's handiwork. He had trained them separately, pushed them to exhaustion, and refined their movements until they could break stone and move like lightning. He was certain they would not falter now.
As expected, Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto earned perfect scores once again. The third assessment, shuriken proficiency, followed swiftly.
With perfect precision, the two launched their weapons. Each shuriken found its mark, striking dead center—dozens of blades buried deep into the target's heart.
In that instant, every pair of eyes in the arena turned toward them. Even the examiners exchanged silent glances of approval. Sasuke and Naruto felt a surge of pride—pure, unguarded satisfaction rising from deep within.
Naruto, in particular, could not contain his joy. He knew without Moyu's training, he would have failed long before this. But now, standing here, every success felt earned, every victory real.
The final trial was soon announced: combat assessment.
Every student would draw lots to determine their opponent. Victory would earn full marks and, combined with prior scores, guarantee graduation. Failure would mean starting over.
Moyu folded his arms, calm yet inwardly expectant. Even if his children scored nothing here, their performance thus far already guaranteed success. But deep down, he knew neither of them would stop at passing—they would dominate.
And when the first match was called, fate smiled once more.
"The next duel—Uchiha Sasuke versus Nara Shikamaru."
Shikamaru sighed, rubbing his temple in visible resignation.
"How troublesome," he muttered under his breath. "Of all people, it had to be him… Maybe I should just give up. I'll get the diploma anyway."
He glanced toward Sasuke, whose calm eyes gleamed like tempered steel. Shikamaru knew, even before stepping forward, that this battle was already decided.
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