M
orning sunlight spilled over the Usuki Academy's training grounds, the mist still clinging to the earth in lazy curls. The golden light edged the outlines of hundreds of students standing in neat rows, each waiting for the call that would decide their future.
This was the day they would be assigned their squads — and their sensei.
For most, the wait was agony.
At the front, Principal Kizune Haruno stood with a list in hand, calling out names. Cheers and chatter followed each grouping, pairs and trios breaking off with their new instructors. Slowly, the field emptied.
Until only three students remained.
Hatashi Hirakima.
Kaitara Hirashima.
Tiatsuri Hirashima.
Kaitara crossed her arms, her crimson hair shifting in the breeze. "Why hasn't he come yet?"
Tiatsuri smirked, though his gaze swept the grounds with restless energy. "Relax. He's probably on his way."
Hatashi stood a little apart, his eyes unfocused. The memory — no, the encounter — with Nakimara still lingered in the back of his mind like a shadow he couldn't shake.
Was it just a dream? Or was the demon truly waiting for another chance?
He clenched his fists.
No. I beat him. He's gone.
Somewhere deep inside, Nakimara's grin curled wider.
An hour passed. The three eventually drifted toward the shade of a large oak near the training yard's edge. The warmth of the sun, combined with the soft rustle of leaves, wore them down. One by one, they dozed off.
A sharp voice cut through their sleep.
"Rise and shine, sleepyheads."
They were on their feet in an instant, kunai in hand.
The man standing before them was tall and lean, with unruly blue hair falling into sharp, watchful eyes. His stance was relaxed, but there was something about him — a coiled readiness, as though he could strike faster than a blink.
Hatashi lowered his weapon slightly. "Sensei Hashiro Mitsuke?"
Kaitara's brows lifted. "You're our instructor?"
"I thought you were still stationed at the academy," Tiatsuri added.
Hashiro's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Not enough instructors to go around. I volunteered to take you three."
"That's… comforting," Hatashi muttered.
Kaitara ignored him. "When do we start?"
"Before we begin," Hashiro said, holding up three headbands that gleamed in the sunlight, "you'll need these. Proof of your graduation."
Tiatsuri frowned. "When did you—"
But the headbands were already gone, tucked into Hashiro's pouch. "If you want them," he said casually, "you'll have to take them from me."
Kaitara lunged without hesitation, kunai flashing — but the air where Hashiro had stood was suddenly empty.
A voice came from above. "Too slow."
They looked up to find him perched high in a tree branch, perfectly balanced.
Kaitara was halfway up the trunk before Tiatsuri could say a word. She reached the branch — and was blasted backward by a sudden burst of wind. She hit the ground hard, coughing.
Hashiro looked down at them, arms crossed. "Your mission: get these headbands within fifteen minutes. Fail, and you go home."
Tiatsuri smirked. "Fine by me."
"You can use any weapon," Hashiro continued, his tone still calm. "But understand — to take them, you must fight with the intent to kill."
The word Begin had barely left his mouth before the three disappeared into the trees.
Hidden in the shadows, Tiatsuri whispered, "We need a plan."
Hatashi's eyes glinted. "I've got one. But we'll have to fight as a team."
"Tell that to Kaitara," Tiatsuri muttered.
A furious shout split the air, followed by another violent gust of wind. Kaitara tumbled into the undergrowth, groaning.
The attack had given them away. Hashiro appeared behind Hatashi and Tiatsuri without a sound. Hatashi spun, his blade meeting Hashiro's wrist guard in a flurry of rapid strikes.
"Tiatsuri — remember the plan! Go!" Hatashi barked.
Five Hatashi clones rushed forward, blades slicing at Hashiro from every angle. He dismantled them in seconds. The real Hatashi dropped from above, aiming for his back — but Hashiro blocked without even turning his head.
"Nice try."
Hatashi's form shimmered and vanished — an illusion. The real Hatashi appeared at Hashiro's flank, sword only inches from his ribs, but Hashiro turned just in time, catching the blow with his own blade.
"Time to stop holding back," Hashiro said.
Wind roared around them as he unleashed the Storm Technique. But at Hatashi's sharp command — "Now!" — Tiatsuri performed the storm technique: lightning dome to close him in, crackling with energy. Water chains erupted, binding Hashiro's limbs just long enough for a hidden Hatashi clone to dart in and snatch the headbands.
The dome collapsed. The chains vanished.
"We win," Hatashi said, smirking.
Hashiro's body dissolved into mist.
The real Hashiro sat comfortably on a nearby branch, clapping slowly. "Not bad. You beat my clone. But you've got five minutes left."
Kaitara's eyes narrowed, but Hatashi lifted a hand. "We'll draw him out. Kaitara — you're the distraction."
"Only fifty percent correct," Tiatsuri murmured.
The second round was chaos. Fire-breathing clones blurred through the trees. Tiatsuri's strikes exploded with electricity. Kaitara's fists glowed with the light of her Takuda mark as she moved like a scarlet blur.
Hashiro met every blow, his movements precise and effortless. But Kaitara managed to slip inside the lightning dome which Tiatsuri created unnoticed. While Hatashi and Tiatsuri kept him busy, she appeared behind him, snatched the headbands, and leapt away.
When it was over, Hashiro examined the stolen items, a rare spark of approval in his eyes. "You've got potential. But you lack focus. You miss the truth behind deception. And you must learn to carry your teammates, not just fight beside them."
"Yes, Sensei," they answered in unison.
His mouth twitched into a faint grin. "For now… let's get ramen. My treat."