The academy courtyard buzzed with anticipation. Word had spread quickly—the first round of the academy exams was only two weeks away. Students whispered of their chances, of clan techniques, of which instructors would be watching.
For Daichi, the air felt heavier than usual, as if the stone walls of the village themselves pressed down on his shoulders.
This is it, he thought. The moment that decides who gets to stand as a shinobi… and who gets left behind.
That evening, instead of resting, Daichi returned to the quarry. The moon hung low, casting pale light across the rocks, and silence wrapped around him like a cloak. He strapped weights to his arms and legs again, dragging himself through katas until his muscles screamed.
Each motion was deliberate. Each strike against the wooden post was an echo of his resolve.
But when he tried to repeat the earth-crack technique, nothing happened. The ground remained still, mocking him. His chakra slipped, refusing to obey.
Frustration burned in his chest. "Why now? Why won't it work?"
"Because you're rushing."
Daichi spun, startled. Instructor Kuroda leaned against a boulder nearby, arms crossed. The man's presence seemed to fill the quarry, like another immovable stone.
"You think strength comes from brute force alone?" Kuroda said, stepping closer. "The earth doesn't yield to those who pound on it without thought. It answers to patience… to understanding."
Daichi frowned. "But I don't have time. The exams—"
"Exams mean nothing if you don't learn what kind of shinobi you are," Kuroda interrupted. He jabbed a finger at Daichi's chest. "Your body is strong, but strength without control is wasted. Stop fighting the ground like it's your enemy. Feel it. Listen to it."
The words sank deep. Daichi closed his eyes, kneeling on the cool soil. He spread his chakra slowly, carefully this time, like water seeping into cracks. For a moment, he felt it—the faint hum of the stone beneath him, ancient and steady.
He pressed his palm forward. The ground shifted, just slightly, a tremor rather than a crack. But it was controlled. Purposeful.
Daichi's eyes lit up. "I… I did it."
Kuroda's expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "Better. You're learning. Remember this—resolve isn't about breaking yourself against the stone. It's about becoming as unyielding as the stone itself."
As the instructor walked away, Daichi stared at the trembling earth beneath his hand. It wasn't power that thrilled him this time—it was possibility.
For the first time, he felt like the mountain wasn't just an obstacle. It was an ally.
And with that thought, his fear of the coming exams began to fade.