The silence that followed Jiro's introduction was heavy, like the air before a landslide. His presence alone made the wooden desks and stone walls of the classroom feel smaller, more suffocating. Kai's heartbeat quickened, not from fear, but from the realization that this was the man who would decide how sharp—or how brittle—their futures would become.
Haruna sat straighter than before, her eyes locked forward, as though awaiting orders she was already prepared to execute. Daichi, in contrast, gave an exaggerated yawn and leaned even farther back in his chair, though Kai didn't miss the way his fingers twitched near the kunai pouch at his hip. The bravado was a mask; even Daichi wasn't reckless enough to ignore the killing intent Jiro carried in his stare.
Jiro's gaze swept over them, weighing each of them with clinical disinterest. His arms folded across his chest, and when he spoke, his voice was steady, unyielding.
"You may have passed the academy," he said, "but you are not shinobi yet. You're children wearing metal on your foreheads. If you want to be worthy of Iwa's headband, then you'll prove it to me."
He reached into his vest and withdrew a small bell, its faint chime breaking the stillness of the room. The sound seemed harmless, but Kai sensed it was anything but.
"Tomorrow at dawn," Jiro continued, "you'll meet me at the northern cliffs. Your task is simple: take this bell from me. If you fail, you will not remain genin."
The words hit like a thrown kunai. Kai's chest tightened. Not remain genin? After all the years of study, the pain of training, the exhaustion of surviving the academy, the thought of it all being stripped away left his stomach cold.
Haruna finally spoke, her voice sharp and controlled. "Sensei, with respect… if there's only one bell, then that means only one of us can pass."
A thin smirk tugged at Jiro's scarred mouth. "Then figure out what that means. Tomorrow, I'll see which of you deserves to call yourselves shinobi. If any."
He pocketed the bell and turned toward the door without another word. The room seemed to grow colder in his absence, as if he had carried the air with him.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Daichi broke the silence with a dry chuckle. "Well, that was cheerful. Guess we get to fight for our lives before breakfast."
Haruna's sharp gaze snapped to him. "If you think this is a joke, you'll drag us both down with you."
"Relax, princess," Daichi said, leaning forward with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not planning to lose. Besides, I doubt stone-face here is gonna give us a chance to play nice."
Kai listened, his thoughts a storm beneath a calm exterior. Jiro wasn't testing who could take the bell—he was testing something deeper. Whether they understood it yet or not, the trial tomorrow wasn't about individual strength. It was about what it meant to be a shinobi of the Stone.
But knowing that didn't ease the weight pressing on his shoulders. If they failed, if Jiro truly meant what he said… then everything Kai had fought for until now would crumble. His vow would mean nothing.
The rest of the day passed in silence between them. Haruna left first, her posture as rigid as her pride. Daichi lingered, flashing Kai a lopsided grin.
"See you at dawn, partner. Try not to trip over yourself."