"Line up and follow me. No pushing, no lagging behind. We're heading to the field for the second half of the exams," Matsuda-sensei instructed, his tone sharp but not unkind.
The moment he spoke, the classroom burst into activity as students hurried to gather their things. I simply stretched, adjusting the hem of my uniform before falling in line.
As we exited the building, the fresh air hit me, a welcome change from the stifling exam room.
The academy grounds stretched out before us, paths leading to different training areas, and beyond that, the large field where practical exams were held.
Other classes were already making their way over, some ahead of us, others trailing behind. It was a stark reminder of just how many students actually attended the academy.
Unlike the ridiculous notion that only a dozen kids got admitted each year, there were thousands of students from all over, all training to become shinobi.
It made sense. How else would the village maintain a functioning military force? The anime never did the academy justice. The fanfics were even worse.
I scoffed internally.
Like hell you could just "accidentally" bump into Jiraiya, Orochimaru, or Tsunade.
Some stories had their protagonists running into legendary figures like it was a casual stroll through the park.
In reality, If I ever saw them, I'd turn around and walk the other way.
"Murakami!"
I was pulled from my thoughts as a familiar voice called out. Turning slightly, I found Kaito jogging up to me, his usual carefree grin in place.
Kaito was one of the few students I got along with, mostly because he wasn't insufferable.
He had an easygoing nature but was surprisingly sharp when he wanted to be.
"How was the written test?" he asked, matching his pace with mine.
I shrugged. "Same as always. Some tricky wording, but nothing impossible."
"Ugh, you always say that," another voice cut in. Rika, a sharp-eyed girl who took everything way too seriously, fell into step beside us. She pushed her glasses up, frowning slightly. "You did notice how they worded the chakra theory question, right? That was meant to confuse people."
I smirked. "And yet, here you are, still standing. Clearly, you figured it out."
She huffed but didn't deny it. Rika was a perfectionist, always aiming for the top. While she saw me as a rival, I just saw her as another classmate who was fun to mess with.
From behind, another student joined in. "I completely bombed that last question. What does it mean to be a shinobi? What kind of philosophical nonsense is that?"
That was Daisuke, a kid who always acted exasperated about academy life but never actually slacked off. He was average in most subjects but had a good grasp of practical combat.
Despite his complaints, he wasn't half-bad.
"You could've written 'being a shinobi means surviving exams like these' and still gotten some points," I joked.
Daichi groaned. "Why didn't I think of that?"
As we continued walking, I took a moment to internally catalog my acquaintances. Kaito, the easygoing fighter. Rika, the academic rival. Daisuke, the reluctant but competent student.
We weren't exactly a tight-knit group, but after a few months in the same class, familiarity had settled in.
And here we were, heading toward the next round of trials.
The field came into view, a massive open space divided into multiple sections for different tests.
Some students were already going through their exams, running through obstacle courses, demonstrating jutsu, or engaging in spars under the watchful eyes of instructors.
The sheer scale of it was overwhelming, rows upon rows of students being put through their paces.
I took it all in, shaking my head slightly.
Seriously, how did people think the academy only had a few students per year?
This was an entire military training program, not some exclusive private school. And the idea that some random civilian-born kid could just waltz into the Hokage's office or bump into legendary shinobi on the street? Laughable.
Fanfics made it seem so easy.
"Oh, you're orphaned? Time for Jiraiya to take you under his wing."
"Oh, you have potential? Congratulations, Orochimaru has personally scouted you."
Bullshit.
Even if I could seek them out, I wouldn't.
Getting involved with any of them was a terrible idea. Jiraiya would probably ditch me for his research, Orochimaru might decide I was an interesting experiment, and Tsunade? Yeah, no thanks.
The less interaction I had with future Sannin, the better.
My musings were cut short as Matsuda-sensei finally stopped walking and turned to face us. His sharp gaze swept over the class before he spoke.
"You will be split into groups for the next phase of the exam. Each section will test different skills, taijutsu, shurikenjutsu, and general agility. You will move through each station in an orderly manner. Failure to follow instructions will result in immediate disqualification. Understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, sensei" rang out, though some voices were more enthusiastic than others.
He nodded in approval. "Good. The first group will step forward for taijutsu assessment. The rest of you, remain in line and wait for your turn."
I sighed, rolling my shoulders. Time to get this over with.
At least this part would be more interesting than the written exam.
…
Normal POV
Matsuda-sensei stood at the front of the gathered students, his sharp gaze sweeping across his class.
Forty-eight students stood huddled together, their attention mostly on him, though some were clearly trying to stifle their nerves.
The written exam had been one thing, but this? This was where they proved themselves physically.
"The second half of your examination will consist of three separate evaluations," Matsuda began, his voice carrying across. "Taijutsu, shurikenjutsu, and agility. Each will be scored individually and factored into your final assessment."
He glanced toward the other sections of the field where different groups of students were already engaged in their exams.
The academy was a vast institution, housing thousands of students in training, and it was organized accordingly.
"For the taijutsu test, you will be paired with an opponent of similar size and skill level. Boys and girls will fight separately. This is not a street brawl, nor is it about overpowering your opponent. We will evaluate your form, reaction time, and adaptability. No excessive force, and I will intervene if necessary."
Matsuda turned and gestured to the training dummies lined up at another section of the field. "The shurikenjutsu portion will assess your accuracy and throwing technique. You will have five throws, three with shuriken and two with kunai. Your score will depend on precision and consistency."
Finally, he pointed to a long track that ran along the perimeter of the field. Wooden hurdles, climbing walls, and narrow beams lined its path. "The agility test will consist of an obstacle course designed to measure speed, coordination, and endurance. Completing it in the fastest time is not the goal, completing it efficiently is."
His gaze hardened. "Your performance today will determine whether you move forward or fall behind. Now, line up. We begin with taijutsu."
The students moved quickly, forming two separate groups as the boys lined up on one side of the sparring ring and the girls on the other. Matsuda scanned the roster and began calling names.
The first few matches were as expected.
There was Kyohei Daizen, ever energetic who moved with speed and fluidity but lacked restraint, leaving too many openings.
His opponent, Hideki, was slower but more methodical, managing to hold his ground before being overwhelmed.
Rika, in contrast, fought like she had memorized a textbook on taijutsu, her stance was solid, her movements precise, but she struggled the moment her opponent forced her off-script.
Daisuke showed flashes of raw talent but treated the fight like a chore, doing just enough to pass.
Some matches were one-sided, others more evenly matched. But Matsuda's attention sharpened when he finally called the next pairing.
"Murakami and Ryota. Step forward."
The two boys moved into position.
Murakami adjusted the deep-purple haori draped over his shoulders before sliding into a relaxed stance. His posture wasn't loose, but it wasn't rigid either.
It was controlled. Measured.
Ryota, on the other hand, was all intensity.
He was one of the more physically powerful students, relying on brute force and aggression to win fights. He cracked his knuckles and grinned. "I won't go easy on you, Murakami."
Murakami exhaled, looking unimpressed. "Didn't ask you to."
Matsuda's eyes flickered between them. "Begin."
Ryota exploded forward.
His foot dug into the dirt as he closed the distance with a burst of speed, throwing a powerful straight punch toward Murakami's chest.
But Murakami was already moving.
He sidestepped with minimal effort, allowing Ryota's punch to barely graze past him and without hesitation, Murakami countered, shifting his weight and striking out with a precise palm thrust aimed at Ryota's exposed ribs.
Clean technique. No wasted movement.
Ryota grunted but recovered quickly, turning his body to deflect the strike with his forearm and retaliated immediately, transitioning into a sweeping low kick.
Murakami hopped over it, landing lightly before shifting back into position, his expression remaining neutral through it all, as if analyzing Ryota in real-time.
Ryota snarled. "Stop dodging and fight!"
He charged again, this time faking a high punch before suddenly feinting into a low tackle.
Matsuda watched closely. This was where most students faltered, taijutsu wasn't just about offense but also reaction. If Murakami was careless, he'd be taken off his feet.
But Murakami… wasn't careless.
Just as Ryota lunged, Murakami suddenly turned, redirecting the momentum of the charge with a well-timed pivot causing Ryota to stumble as his own speed worked against him.
And Murakami took advantage as his hand shot out, gripping Ryota's wrist while his foot hooked behind his opponent's ankle. With a quick yank and a sharp push—
Ryota was flipped onto his back.
The impact kicked up dust. Ryota grunted, trying to push himself up, but before he could, Murakami's foot pressed lightly against his chest. Not harshly.
Just enough to make the point clear.
The match was over.
Matsuda frowned slightly.
Not because Murakami had won, but because of how he had won. There was no hesitation in his movements, no struggle.
Just calculated efficiency.
Was he even trying?
Matsuda studied the boy's face, but Murakami simply stepped back, brushing dust off his haori before returning to the line.
That boy…
Matsuda exhaled and shook his head before calling the next match.
…
Shurikenjutsu and Agility Tests
After the taijutsu matches concluded, the students moved to the shurikenjutsu range.
Each was given three shuriken and two kunai, aiming for the target dummies lined up ahead.
Some students hit center mass, others scattered their shots wildly. Kaito's throws were fast but inconsistent. Rika was precise, hitting closer to the bullseye but lacking force.
Then, there was Murakami.
His first two shuriken hit dead center.
The third, however, landed slightly off-mark. Deliberately? Matsuda wasn't sure.
The kunai throws followed. One direct hit. The second? Just slightly off-center.
Matsuda narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
Lastly, the agility course. Students were required to navigate hurdles, climb walls, and balance on beams. Some excelled, some struggled.
Murakami?
He moved through the course smoothly. No rush, no mistakes, but never pushing himself beyond what was necessary.
When it was all over, Matsuda watched as Murakami rejoined his classmates, his expression unreadable.
That boy is holding back a lot.
Matsuda watched as Murakami stepped back in line, his expression as unreadable as ever.
He wasn't the only student who showed restraint, but something about the way Murakami carried himself made it obvious that he was capable of more.
And yet, he seemed perfectly content staying under the radar.
Matsuda exhaled through his nose. It wasn't his place to pry. If the boy wanted to keep his true abilities to himself, so be it.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder—why?