Chapter 87: The Second Year Comes to an End
Souta stared intently at the instructor's hand movements as he explained the basic techniques: triggering, manipulating, and maintaining the stability of an illusion.
Every word was absorbed by Souta without blinking, while his mind struggled to distinguish between reality and deception.
Souta understood that Genjutsu was not a game. It could make you attack your own friends, ensnaring you in an endless dream.
And in this world—a harsh and cold world that knows no mercy—a single small mistake could mean death.
There was no room for doubt, no time for correction. Therefore, Souta had to be able to differentiate illusion from reality before the illusion itself tore his life apart.
With clenched jaws and sharp eyes, Souta was determined: he would not be a victim. If Genjutsu was a war within the mind, then Souta would be a general on that battlefield.
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Finally, the lesson on ninja ethics and basic strategy served as a calm yet thought-provoking conclusion. There were no shouts, no thrown shurikens or kicks to the stomach—yet the mental pressure was far heavier. It was as if they were being asked to strip their own hearts bare and weigh them with cold logic.
The instructor stood at the front of the class, his voice calm, flat, and emotionless, as if he himself had sacrificed too much for missions that were never recorded.
He explained the meaning of loyalty, the importance of sacrifice, and how sometimes... missions were more important than the lives of teammates.
Souta did not speak. He sat quietly, his gaze fixed ahead, but his mind was wandering. The words pierced like fine needles.
Souta knew well—in a world like this, not all choices came with clean outcomes. Morality would always clash with reality, and spilled blood could not always be redeemed by truth.
Every time strategies were taught—how to form formations in battle, set traps on enemy paths, read the terrain with sharp eyes, and especially, keep secrets as if your life depended on them—Souta wrote quickly, the tip of his pencil moving without hesitation.
Souta's handwriting was neat and firm, like notes from someone intent on surviving, not just passing an exam.
In Souta's mind, every strategy transformed into a game of imagination. A vast chessboard, shrouded in fog, where one wrong move meant death.
He visualized the battlefield as a living puzzle, and himself as a piece forced to keep moving.
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Time leaped again. Three months passed by like grains of sand falling silently in the midst of a desert storm. Outside, the winds of Sunagakure continued to carry the heat of the day and the biting cold of the night.
But Souta's body was now more upright, more balanced. His movements were no longer hesitant. Souta's gaze was deep—sharp as a kunai blade that had been honed many times.
Souta's face was still young, but fine lines of fatigue began to show beneath his eyes. And his eyes themselves... were no longer those of a child. There was something growing there—a strange calm, a kind of distance that had formed between him and the world.
And so, the second year at the Ninja Academy came to an end. The evening sky above Sunagakure glowed red, like embers slowly losing their flame.
The last rays of the sun touched the tops of the stone walls, reflecting a dim golden hue. The wind began to change, carrying the scent of night and whispers that could not be understood.
Souta sat alone in his room, his body slightly hunched, hands resting on his knees. He gazed at the horizon that seemed unchanging, yet for him, everything had shifted. His eyes half-closed, but his mind was not at rest.
The second year at the Ninja Academy had ended. But for Souta, this was not a conclusion.
This was a beginning.
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Chapter 88: Beginning of the Third Year
Now entering a new school year, Souta is in his third year at the Ninja Academy in the Village of Sunagakure.
The desert air feels like it's burning the skin since dawn breaks. The dry wind carries fine grains of sand, making every corner of the village rustle softly, as if whispering among the pale yellow stone walls cracked by time.
The Ninja Academy flag flutters atop the tallest tower, and the students' uniforms sway gently in the hot wind. Every morning, the sound of footsteps clattering on the sandy streets, the creaking of wooden classroom doors opening and closing in turn fills the air.
In this third year, Souta has become busy with various activities. In the morning, he goes to the Ninja Academy to study until the afternoon.
Each time the bell rings for class changes, students rush into the long stone hallway, the sound of small chatter mingling with the noise of straw sandals stepping on the rough floor.
Sometimes, dust from the sand sticks to the ends of Souta's sleeves, making him look worn out even though it's only halfway through the day.
Then from the afternoon until night, Souta goes to work at the Puppet Arts Performance Theater.
The building stands on the way home to Makima's house, with red paper lanterns swaying lazily in the hot wind. The smell of old wood mixes with the aroma of puppet paint, scraps of fabric, and insect-repelling incense.
As night falls, lantern light shines on the small stage inside, where puppets with eerie makeup wait to be played with.
Souta's hands are often dirty with fabric dust and wood shavings, but his eyes always sparkle at the sight of puppet fingers dancing under the light.
If in the second year Souta practiced chakra control by walking on walls—his soles sometimes scraped by rough stones, his knees bruised from falls—now in the third year, he is trained for advanced chakra control by walking on water.
The teachers say that water is the slipperiest test. Feet must be balanced, and the heart must be as calm as the surface of a pond.
Since the Village of Sunagakure is in the middle of the desert and severely lacks clean water like rivers or lakes, the students are taken to a place within the Ninja Academy, where there is a pond.
The square pond with waist-high stone walls stands quietly in a hidden room inside the Ninja Academy, separated from the outside hustle and bustle by a tall wooden door that closes tightly as if keeping secrets behind it.
The water is clear but reflects the pale desert sky. At the edge of the pond, a faint smell of iron can be detected, and the soft sound of trickling water seems to whisper in the ear.
There, Souta and the third-year students begin to practice walking on the surface of the water, using chakra in their feet as a repelling force, allowing their feet to remain above the water's surface.
Some students appear hesitant to step forward, their feet breaking the surface, splashes of water soaking their training clothes. Some laugh softly while pushing each other, while others look anxiously, their lips trembling slightly in prayer not to fall again.
Of course, since Souta had practiced walking on water even before entering the Ninja Academy, when he is trained to walk on the water's surface by the teachers, it becomes easy for him.
Souta's steps seem light, as if the soles of his feet are dancing on a slippery stone path. Occasionally, Souta's teacher stands at the edge of the pond, watching him with raised eyebrows, then exchanging puzzled glances with the other students—who is actually training this child?
In a corner of the room, some students whisper softly, holding back feelings of envy that creep in among their curious gazes at Souta's steady progress forward.
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