Chapter 4: New Class
The academy's standards had grown lax in the years since the war's end. With peace stretching on indefinitely, instructors found themselves teaching basics with a thoroughness born of desperation rather than hope. Tree-walking, water-treading, the fundamental three jutsu—all drilled into young minds like prayers whispered against an uncertain future. Unlike the softer times ahead, when graduation would require only a single technique performed at sixty percent proficiency, these students faced the full weight of expectation.
Yet beyond these foundations, the village offered nothing. True ninjutsu remained locked away, parceled out like scraps to those who had already bled for their worth. The great clans hoarded their secrets like misers counting gold, each technique a reminder of the invisible walls that divided Konoha's children. Ino-Shika-Cho, Aburame, Hyuga—all sang the same song of exclusion. Even the Uchiha clutched their flame techniques close, knowing that in a world built on power, generosity was just another word for weakness.
The jonin instructors who followed were meant to bridge this gap, though most treated their students like temporary inconveniences. Only the truly naive still believed in the Will of Fire enough to offer real guidance. For the rest, clan loyalty came first, village second, and students a distant third.
Rei shouldered his father's katana, the weight of inherited steel familiar against his spine. The practice field stretched before him, empty save for their new team leader—Yamanaka Inoichi, barely twenty and soft as morning mist. The man's delicate features and long golden hair might have fooled strangers into mistaking him for a woman, but Rei recognized the calculating eyes of someone born to privilege.
At 8:50, Inoichi had already claimed his position. Wada Yu arrived with the punctuality of the desperate, while the other girl Hanazuki drifted in moments later. Rei took the final slot before nine, earning a look that promised future consequences.
"Now that we're all present," Inoichi began, his voice carrying the crisp authority of inherited rank, "Introductions. Strengths, weaknesses, whatever you think might keep you alive another day."
The formality rang hollow. They weren't fresh academy graduates playing at war—each of them had already tasted blood, had felt the weight of a life ending beneath their hands. Even quiet Hanazuki carried that particular stillness that came after the first kill.
Wada Yu stepped forward with practiced ease. "Wada Yu. Good with kunai, better with traps. Rei's the only one here I'd trust to watch my back." His glance toward Rei carried weight—memories of bandits screaming in the dark, of choosing to stand when running would have been easier.
Inoichi's attention shifted to Rei, expectant.
"Uchiha Rei." He crossed his arms, letting the name carry its own explanation. "Fire techniques, some swordwork. I don't collect friends." A pause, heavy with meaning. "Wada's earned his place."
The simple acknowledgment said everything. Uchiha pride was legendary, but so was their pragmatism. Yu had proven himself when it mattered, had chosen loyalty over survival during that disastrous B-rank mission. In a world where trust was measured in heartbeats and shared blood, such bonds were precious as water in drought.
Inoichi nodded slowly, his sensory abilities no doubt cataloging the chakra that flickered around Rei like banked coals. Chunin-level reserves in a genin's body spoke of potential—or of desperation driving growth.
Hanazuki's introduction came soft but clear: "Hanazuki, twelve years old. Water techniques, shuriken work. I like sweets and hate unnecessary questions."
Her competence radiated from every controlled movement, from the way she positioned herself with clear sightlines to all exits. Pretty enough to be underestimated, skilled enough to make that mistake fatal.
"Yamanaka Inoichi," their sensei concluded. "Mind techniques are my specialty, along with the usual clan skills. My teammates in Ino-Shika-Cho are the only bonds that matter." The casual dismissal of his new students wasn't cruelty—just honesty. "Now then, time for a practical evaluation."
Rei's grin came sharp and knowing. He'd seen this dance before.
"Simple rules," Inoichi continued, producing a timer with theatrical precision. "Survive ten minutes against me. That's all."
Yu's face went pale. Hanazuki's jaw tightened. Only Rei looked pleased, and that should have been warning enough.
The timer clicked.
Rei moved first, hands flying through seals with the fluid grace of countless repetitions. Fire bloomed in his throat, chakra coiling and expanding until—
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!"
(Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique)
The fireball erupted outward, massive and hungry, painting the training ground in violent orange light. Inoichi's eyebrows rose at the speed of execution before his own hands moved in response.
"Suiton: Suijinheki!"
(Water Release: Water Formation Wall)
Water rose like a living wall, meeting fire in an explosion of steam that swallowed the field whole. For precious seconds, the world turned white and blind.
In that moment of concealment, Rei spun and ran, his voice cutting through the vapor like a blade: "Run. Scatter."
Yu moved without hesitation, grabbing the stunned Hanazuki and hauling her away from ground zero. By the time Inoichi's sensory jutsu pierced the steam, his students were already distant specks, fleeing in three directions with the focused terror of prey that had learned the value of speed.
Rei, naturally, was the fastest and furthest, his retreat as calculated as his initial attack.
Inoichi stood alone in the dissipating mist, feeling something between admiration and irritation. This was supposed to establish hierarchy, to gauge their abilities while demonstrating his own superiority. Instead, he'd been outmaneuvered by children who understood that survival trumped pride.
The information he'd been given painted Uchiha Rei as impulsive, arrogant, typical of his clan's worst traits. But this? This spoke of cold calculation, of lessons learned in blood and shadow. The boy had analyzed the situation in seconds, recognized the futility of direct confrontation, and chosen the only viable strategy.
"Changed by failure," Inoichi murmured to himself, watching the timer count down. "Or maybe never what we thought to begin with."
Ten minutes crawled past like hours. When the alarm finally rang, his students materialized from the forest with the careful timing of survivors, wary but unbroken.
Perhaps this assignment wouldn't be as simple as he'd expected. In a world where children learned murder before mercy, assuming anything could prove fatal.
The real test, Inoichi realized, was just beginning.