General POV
Kel got home by sunset, when he got in, he saw his brother running round the house while sticking to the wall!.
"Courtesy of your dad's punishment" His mother told Kelvin when she saw him staring at his brother.
Kelvin chuckled under his breath "Someone was bursted"
"I heard you!!!!" His brother screamed from outside.
Day of entrance test
The academy hall smelled like old paper, chalk dust, and fear.
Kelvin Stone noticed it the moment he sat down.
Rows of wooden desks stretched across the room, each one occupied by a child trying very hard not to look like a child. Knees bounced. Fingers drummed. One boy near the back whispered formulas like he was bargaining with the universe.
Kelvin sat near the window, back straight, hands folded neatly.
Calm on the outside.
Inside, his thoughts raced.
This decides everything.
The doors at the front of the hall creaked open.
Instant silence.
The Hokage stepped inside.
No announcement. No guards shouting his name. His presence alone quieted the room.
Kelvin felt it immediately—the weight of him. Not heavy in a crushing way, but solid. Like standing near a mountain.
The Hokage's eyes moved slowly across the hall, studying each face.
"Today," he said, voice calm but carrying easily, "many of you are afraid."
A few kids flinched.
"That's good," he continued. "Fear means you care about the path in front of you."
He walked slowly between the rows.
"These exams will not decide your worth. They will not decide your future."
A boy in the front row exhaled loudly in relief—only to freeze when the Hokage glanced at him.
"They will decide whether you are ready to start walking that future."
Kelvin listened closely.
"Strength is not throwing the hardest punch or running the fastest," the Hokage said. "Strength is choosing to stand again when your legs shake. It is choosing restraint when anger tempts you."
He stopped near the window—near Kelvin.
"This village does not need weapons," the Hokage said softly. "It needs guardians."
Kelvin swallowed.
"So do your best," the Hokage finished. "Not to impress us… but to honor the fire that brought you here."
With that, he turned and left.
The doors closed.
Silence lingered.
Then—
Begin.
Pencils scratched paper instantly.
Kelvin scanned the first question.
Explain chakra circulation and its relationship with stamina control.
Easy.
His father's voice answered before he even finished reading.
"Chakra is breath, blood, and will. Lose one, and the rest collapse."
Kelvin wrote calmly.
Around him, panic bloomed.
A kid two seats away leaned over and whispered, "Psst… what's stamina?"
Another boy hissed back, "I think it's… like energy?"
Someone in front muttered, "Why are there so many words?"
Kelvin pressed his lips together.
This must feel impossible if no one trained you.
Next question.
List three non-lethal combat principles taught to academy students.
Kelvin paused.
His father's stern face appeared in his mind.
"If you kill when you don't have to, you don't belong on the battlefield."
He wrote carefully.
Behind him, a girl groaned softly. "I should've paid attention in class…"
By the time the proctor called time, Kelvin's hand ached—but his mind felt steady.
When the papers were returned, red ink stamped his page.
PASSED.
Kelvin exhaled slowly.
No smile.
Just relief.
The training field outside was chaos.
Kids stretched like their lives depended on it. One boy attempted a split and immediately regretted it. Another shadowboxed an imaginary enemy and almost punched a tree.
Kelvin stood near the edge, eyes scanning the sidelines.
Parents crowded the fence. Some waved wildly. Some shouted advice no one asked for.
Dad should be here.
Kelvin checked the gate.
Empty.
His chest tightened.
"Candidates!" an instructor barked. "Line up!"
Kelvin turned, pushing the thought aside.
That's when he noticed the boy.
No clan symbol. No special gear. Just a plain shirt and focused eyes.
The boy looked back.
They held eye contact.
Not aggressive.
Not friendly.
Just… measuring.
Then—
"Eyes forward!"
The moment broke.
The balance trial came first.
Tall wooden poles rose from the dirt like crooked teeth.
"No chakra enhancement," the instructor warned. "Fall, and you're out."
Kelvin stepped onto the pole.
It wobbled immediately.
Easy…
His foot slipped slightly.
His heart jumped.
Focus.
He moved forward—but hesitated.
Too careful.
A gust of wind rocked the pole.
Kelvin lost balance, barely catching himself before falling.
A laugh burst out somewhere behind him.
His face burned.
The clanless boy went next.
Smooth. Controlled. Like he'd been born on poles.
Unbelievable, Kelvin thought.
Target practice.
Three throws.
Kelvin took his kunai, adjusting his grip the way his father taught him.
His hands shook.
Relax.
He threw.
Miss.
His mind flashed—
A younger Kelvin, standing in a field behind their house. His father set up a wooden target.
"Throw," his father said.
Kelvin threw.
The kunai flew… and nailed a chicken instead.
The chicken squawked and ran off with the blade sticking out of a feather.
His father stared.
Then sighed.
"…We're eating vegetables tonight."
Kelvin almost laughed at the memory.
Second throw.
Closer.
The clanless boy stepped up.
Thwip.
Bullseye.
Kelvin glanced sideways.
The boy met his eyes again.
No smile.
Just fire.
Third throw.
Kelvin inhaled, grounding himself.
"Stop forcing it," his father's voice echoed.
Release.
The kunai clipped the target.
Not perfect.
But it stuck.
"Counts," the instructor said.
Kelvin exhaled sharply.
The movement drill followed—ropes, low walls, quick turns.
Kelvin stumbled once, rolled, scraped his elbow.
Pain flared.
He got up anyway.
By the time he crossed the line, his lungs burned.
The clanless boy crossed just ahead of him, breathing hard but smiling slightly.
The exam ended as the sun dipped low.
Parents hugged kids. Cheers echoed.
Kelvin searched the gate one last time.
Still empty.
His fists clenched.
You said you'd be here.
A voice beside him spoke.
"You didn't quit."
Kelvin turned.
The clanless boy.
They held eye contact again—longer now.
Something silent passed between them.
"Yeah," Kelvin said quietly. "You didn't either."
The boy nodded once and walked away.
Kelvin looked at the academy… then the empty gate.
His chest hurt.
But not enough to break him.
I passed the first step, he thought.
Next time… I won't miss.
And deep inside Kelvin Stone, the first flame burned brighter….