Five months passed in the blink of an eye.
Where once Kai struggled just to hold a leaf steady, now he stood at the center of the academy grounds, kunai in hand, his breath calm and steady. The clang of steel echoed as he sparred against a fellow student. Each movement was sharper, each strike more deliberate. Sweat glistened on his brow, but his grip no longer faltered.
The ember he carried within had grown into a steady flame.
During those months, he bled, bruised, and pushed himself beyond exhaustion. His nights were spent alone in quiet training, trying to coax sparks into threads of lightning. The progress was slow, but undeniable—every now and then, a faint current danced across his palm, stronger and steadier than before.
Now, the academy instructors watched him with new eyes. Not as the struggling outsider he once was, but as a boy who had carved himself into something worthy.
"Kai," the instructor called after the spar ended, voice carrying weight. "You've improved. Keep this pace, and you'll leave the academy not just competent… but dangerous."
The words stirred something deep within him. For so long, he had only been chasing survival. Now, for the first time, the path of a shinobi felt real, tangible.
That evening, he returned to his usual spot atop the stone wall. The village stretched below, bathed in orange light from the setting sun. He stared at his hands, calloused and scarred, yet steady. He clenched them, feeling that familiar tingling current, faint but promising.
Soon… I'll graduate. Soon, I'll step into the real world. The storms of the Hidden Cloud will no longer be legends I look up to… they'll be mine to command.
But as he thought this, a shadow of unease lingered in his chest. Leaving the academy meant facing dangers far beyond sparring matches and leaf exercises. It meant missions where lives were at stake. And Kai knew—he wasn't just fighting to survive anymore.
He was fighting to prove himself.