'So I still have two more years of this left?' Satoru thought as he leaned back on his palms, the rough ground still warm beneath him from the afternoon sun.
The training grounds buzzed with low chatter; the kind of restless hum that came after a long day of exhaustion mixed with anticipation. Dust hung lazily in the air, golden specks illuminated by the dying sunlight. Somewhere off to his right, a group of boys were arguing animatedly about their sparring matches; the dull thud of a stray kick meeting a wooden post punctuated their laughter.
The official examinations had ended nearly an hour ago, yet none of them had been allowed to leave. The instructors had ordered all students to remain in the training field as they were to receive their results before the day ended.
That was, to Satoru, a pleasant surprise.
'Back on Earth,' he mused, smirking faintly, 'you'd have to wait a week or two before exam results were even printed. And that was with computers.'
He let his gaze drift over the other students; the nervous shifting of feet, the hushed conversations, the wide eyes darting toward the Academy building every few seconds. There was an undercurrent of excitement in the air, tempered by anxiety. The kind of tension that came when a year's worth of effort teetered on the edge of being judged.
'Two more years of this,' Satoru repeated silently, his expression flattening.
He sighed softly.
'I still can't believe they don't teach ninjutsu in the first year.'
The thought nagged at him every time he sat through another theory lesson. Sure, the classes were thorough, but to him, it all felt incomplete. A shinobi's world wasn't built on theory and taijutsu alone; it was built on the moulding of chakra, the application of ninjutsu in life-or-death situations.
'It's like learning how to walk without ever being shown what running looks like,' he thought grimly. 'They're keeping us in the shallow end while pretending it's the ocean.'
Still, he knew there was logic to it. Most of the students around him weren't from shinobi clans. Some didn't even know what chakra truly felt like in their bodies until a few months ago. Teaching them jutsu too early could lead to injuries — or worse, fatalities.
But that didn't stop the itch of dissatisfaction beneath his skin.
He leaned his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his clasped hands, eyes half-lidded as he drifted deeper into thought.
'From what I remember of the anime, the Academy's structure was… what, three years total? With the final exam testing mastery of three basic ninjutsu— the Clone, Substitution, and Transformation techniques.'
That part made sense. Even back then, he'd thought the bar for graduation seemed both too low and too dangerous. But seeing the real-world version of it now, the logic was clearer.
'If that's the graduation requirement,' he thought, 'then the current syllabus isn't that different. First-year covers taijutsu and theory, second probably starts chakra moulding, and by third year they should be easing into low-level jutsu practice.'
He exhaled through his nose.
'Still, this kind of structured pacing… it feels like Minato's work. He's Hokage now, after all; probably stepped in after the war to reform the Academy system.'
That, at least, made sense. With so many children orphaned by the Third Shinobi War, the Academy had become both an educational institution and a psychological safety net — a place to rebuild discipline and loyalty. Minato would have understood that; his reputation for efficiency and compassion was well-earned.
'Makes sense,' Satoru mused. 'If you can't rebuild the world through peace, you rebuild it through structure. Typical Hokage thinking.'
He was still lost in thought when a sharp voice cut through the murmuring field.
"Hey!"
Satoru blinked and looked up.
A boy was waving frantically near the far end of the grounds, pointing toward the notice board set up against the Academy wall. "They're releasing the results!" he yelled, his voice half-cracking with excitement.
The effect was instantaneous. Heads whipped toward where he was pointing; conversations broke off mid-sentence.
Satoru followed his gaze and saw Shibata Haru, their instructor, striding across the grounds with a rolled parchment in one hand. The man's expression was, as always, unreadable — his steps even, his presence commanding. He looked the same as he always did: broad-shouldered, dark hair tied back, eyes sharp enough to still any rowdy student with a single glance.
And, predictably, that's exactly what happened.
The moment Haru approached the notice board, half the class swarmed behind him — a noisy, jostling wave of bodies. The noise rose in a chaotic crescendo until Haru stopped walking. He turned his head slowly, eyes scanning the crowd.
Silence fell immediately.
Satoru smirked faintly.
Haru turned back to the board, pinned the parchment neatly in place with two metal tacks, and then addressed the class.
"The results are out," he said simply, his deep voice carrying easily over the field. "Those who have passed will return after the break to begin their second year. Those who did not meet the minimum standards will repeat the first year."
A low murmur swept through the group— anxious whispers and quick glances exchanged between friends.
Haru continued without pause. "Additionally," he said, scanning the group, "Hyuga Hoshino and Satoru, you will report to my office after reviewing your results."
That caused another ripple through the crowd. Heads turned, some curious, some envious.
Satoru blinked, momentarily thrown off. 'Me?'
He looked toward where Hoshino was standing — the Hyuga girl with pale lavender eyes and a composed demeanour that rarely cracked, even during spars. She gave no visible reaction to the announcement, merely inclining her head once in acknowledgement.
Haru, having said his piece, turned and strode back toward the Academy building, his sandals clicking softly against the stone path.
The moment he disappeared inside, the entire field erupted into chaos.
"Move, move, let me see!"
"Where's my name?"
"I passed! I actually passed!"
Dozens of voices overlapped as students surged toward the notice board like a tidal wave.
Satoru stayed back for a moment, watching the frenzy unfold. 'Well, this is going to take a while,' he thought dryly.
Still, curiosity eventually got the better of him. He rose, dusted off his pants, and began weaving through the crowd with practiced ease — sidestepping excited kids and slipping through gaps between bodies.
When he finally reached the front, his eyes immediately scanned the parchment. The handwriting was neat, the list organized by total score.
And there it was.
1. Uchiha Itachi — 100 marks
2. Satoru — 98 marks
A quiet laugh escaped him before he could help it. "Figures."
Two points. That was all that separated them.
'Probably because Itachi finished his spar faster,' he thought, narrowing his eyes.
Still, second place in a class that included clan heirs and prodigies wasn't bad. More than that — it was validation. Proof that all those long hours of extra training, all the nights spent pushing his chakra control exercises beyond what was expected, were worth it.
'Ninety-eight,' he mused. 'Not perfect, but close enough.'
He turned from the board, the faintest trace of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
As he made his way toward the main building, his mind buzzed with possibilities.
The corridors inside were quieter than usual. The echo of his sandals on the polished floor filled the air as he passed by open classroom doors and empty training halls. The scent of chalk and sweat still clung faintly to the air, mingling with the faint bitterness of cleaning oil from the weapon racks.
When he reached Haru's office, the door was already half-open.
And inside, to his mild surprise, Hyuga Hoshino was already there.
She stood near Haru's desk, posture straight, hands clasped neatly in front of her. Her pale eyes flicked toward him briefly as he entered, but she said nothing.
'How'd she get here before me?' Satoru wondered.
He stepped in, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath his feet, and bowed lightly out of habit. "You asked for us, Instructor Haru?"
Haru nodded, his gaze steady as he looked between the two of them. "Yes. I called you both here to discuss an opportunity."
Hoshino's expression didn't change, but her posture straightened minutely. Satoru tilted his head, curiosity sparking.
"An opportunity?" he echoed.
Haru folded his arms behind his back. "Given your exceptional performances, both in written and physical assessments, the Academy administration is considering recommending you for early graduation."
The room went utterly silent.
Satoru blinked. Once. Twice.
'Early graduation?' he thought, a slow grin forming before he could stop it. 'Just like Itachi.'
Hoshino was the first to speak. She raised her hand slightly, her voice polite but steady. "Instructor Haru," she began, "for clarification — do you mean early promotion to the senior classes, or… graduation from the Academy entirely?"
Haru's answer came without hesitation.
"Graduation from the Academy," he said firmly. "Not senior class advancement."
The words hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite.
Satoru's heart gave an involuntary thump against his ribs.
He glanced at Hoshino, who had gone still — her eyes wide for just a heartbeat before her usual composure returned.
Then he looked back at Haru, a slow, measured smile forming across his face.
'Graduation, huh?' he thought. 'That's very interesting.'
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