Chapter 36
After a simple breakfast of grilled fish and rice balls, Asakawa Naoki once again found himself carrying Uchiha Mikoto on his back as he made his way toward the Ninja Academy. The streets of Konoha bustled with the usual morning activity, vendors opening stalls and early-rising shinobi hurrying along rooftops. The warm sunlight filtered through the trees, glinting off tiled rooftops and the familiar village walls beyond.
They arrived at the school just before the morning bell. At the gate, Mikoto hopped down lightly, her face bright with the energy of youth. She gave Naoki a small wave, then hurried off toward her own classroom, her dark hair fluttering behind her. Watching her go, Naoki adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and turned toward his own classroom, third grade, class one.
As he entered the classroom, his eyes instinctively sought out the familiar figure of Uzumaki Kushina sitting in the back row. She was easy to spot — even in a crowded room, that cascade of vivid red hair was unmistakable. Naoki made his way over and dropped into the seat beside her.
In the past two years, Kushina had changed more than Naoki had expected. She'd grown noticeably taller, though she still retained that energetic aura unique to her. The bright red hair she used to wear in a messy bob now flowed freely down her back, and the small hair ornament she always wore — a simple clip Naoki had given her long ago — held her bangs neatly to one side.
Gone was the round, babyish face that had earned her the teasing nickname 'Tomato' from the other students when she first transferred to the village. The once-pudgy cheeks had slimmed, her features growing sharper, revealing the early promise of a beauty no one would dare call a tomato now. Time truly worked subtle magic on people, and Kushina was proof of it.
Naoki found himself marveling quietly at how people could change in a matter of years.
"Naoki, you're cutting it close today," Kushina huffed, turning to him with a frown. "You almost missed the bell."
Normally, Naoki would arrive a few minutes early, never one to rush in right as the bell rang. He wasn't the most punctual student, but he rarely cut it this close.
"Ah, yeah… I kind of overslept," Naoki admitted with an awkward laugh, scratching his cheek. "Slept too well, I guess."
Kushina crossed her arms, her expression somewhere between exasperation and relief. "I thought you'd be up all night worrying about today's test and then pass out in the morning."
"I'm not the kind to lose sleep over an exam," Naoki grinned. "You know that."
"Even so," Kushina sighed, her voice softer, "it's a big day. You don't want to screw this up."
"I know, I know. Don't worry," Naoki reassured her, leaning back in his seat. "I'll be fine."
The conversation drifted off as the classroom began to fill with the sounds of other students arriving and chatting noisily. Moments later, the sharp clang of the school bell rang through the academy, and the room fell into a rough semblance of order as Masaki Yuto, their homeroom teacher, stepped up to the podium.
Unlike most days, Masaki Yuto didn't begin class immediately. He stood there for a while, gazing at the faces before him with an unreadable expression — a mix of pride, melancholy, and something else Naoki couldn't quite place.
Most of the students failed to notice, too busy fidgeting or whispering to one another, but a few sensed the atmosphere shift.
After a long pause, Masaki Yuto spoke.
"Starting today, the rest of you will continue your normal lessons," he announced. "But the students I'm about to name — you're to gather on the training grounds."
A murmur rippled through the classroom. Everyone knew what this meant.
Graduation.
The students who would be called were those considered ready to leave the academy and officially become Genin. The mere thought of it stirred excitement and envy in equal measure among the others.
Masaki Yuto began reading names from a list.
"Uchiha Kanmon. Hinata Goji. Nara Nogawa. Sarutobi Keji."
No one was surprised by these. All four came from prominent ninja clans, children born into shinobi families, expected to graduate ahead of their peers. It was practically tradition.
But then came the names that drew true attention.
"Namikaze Minato. Asakawa Naoki. Uzumaki Kushina."
A wave of shock swept through the classroom. It wasn't that these three hadn't earned it — but in the eyes of many, they were civilians. Ordinary students. They hadn't been born into great clans or received private training at home. For them to graduate early was unthinkable.
Naoki could feel the gazes turn toward them, the mix of surprise, jealousy, and disbelief.
"Teacher, that's unfair!" one student suddenly called out. "Why do they get to graduate and not us?"
"Yeah! I wanna graduate too!"
More voices followed, rising in complaint.
Masaki Yuto's face darkened. He slammed a hand onto the podium, the loud crack of it silencing the room instantly.
"What do you brats think being a ninja is?" he barked, his tone sharp enough to cut stone. "Some game you play for fun?"
No one spoke. The air seemed to grow heavier in the wake of his anger.
"If you step onto the battlefield without the strength to survive, you'll get yourself killed. Worse — you'll get your comrades killed."
The room was silent now, the weight of those words settling heavily over them. For most of these kids, the idea of being a ninja was all glory and adventure. Very few considered the danger. Fewer still grasped the finality of death.
After a moment, Masaki Yuto's expression softened.
"Alright," he muttered, waving his hand. "Those whose names I called, go wait on the training grounds. The sign is already up."
Without a word, the seven students rose and filed out of the room. As they passed through the door, Naoki glanced back once to see the other students staring after them. Some eyes held resentment, others awe.
The world outside the classroom felt wider, as if in stepping through that door, they had crossed an invisible boundary. The sky overhead stretched endlessly, and the training grounds lay ahead like a stage.
For these seven, this wasn't just another test. It was the first step into a dangerous world.
And though none spoke of it, an unspoken question lingered in each of their hearts.
How many of them would still be standing after the Second and Third Ninja World Wars?
Because, as Masaki Yuto had said — becoming a ninja wasn't a game.
It was a path paved in blood.
And death was its inevitable price.
*******
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