The air over the large training field on the outskirts of Konoha felt heavy, almost thick. The surrounding pine trees shivered softly, leaves rustling like sighs, as if holding their breath. Morning sunlight pierced through a thin mist, casting long shadows that danced across the cracked earth in some places. There were no bells. No dramatic announcements. Only Hiroshi Yamato stood before them, calm, like a rock in the middle of a storm. His presence alone made the three team members tense.
> "Your task today is simple," he said quietly, yet his tone pierced their minds. "Survive for one minute."
Ren Takahashi stared at Hiroshi with wide eyes. "One minute… sounds easy. But this gaze…" he thought, "…there's more to this than just physical training."
Hana Uchiha closed her eyes for a moment, sensing the energy around her. Hiroshi's aura was unlike any ordinary teacher. He was not merely observing; he was orchestrating the field. Every breath he took seemed to penetrate their chakra cores. Hana felt her heart race. "If I falter even slightly, I could be destroyed in an instant," she thought.
Bakugo, as usual, blinked and smirked. "Hah, one minute? Easy. I can last longer than that, especially if they try to hold me back." Yet instinct warned him. There was something different about the pressure Hiroshi exerted—his sensei's chakra seemed not only to push, but to modulate the surrounding elements. The ground beneath Bakugo's feet cracked slightly. The air swirled around him, creating a hissing sound that made his hair whip wildly.
The first second began, and instantly, the field transformed. The ground trembled, trees swayed violently, even small stones floated briefly before crashing back down. Ren raised his hands, attempting to form a wind wall to block the flying debris. The wall nearly took shape, but Hiroshi's chakra wave pressed down, shattering the barrier like thin glass. Ren was slammed backward, landing on his knees and hands to absorb the impact. "This… is heavier than I imagined," he muttered, gasping for air.
Hana, on the other hand, had to channel her full concentration. She focused chakra into every muscle, mapped energy pathways in her body, and nearly activated her Sharingan to read Hiroshi's chakra movements. Each second felt like a test of patience, speed, and precision all at once. Hana adjusted her stance, controlled her breathing, and each inhale seemed to balance her on the edge of annihilation.
Bakugo did not wait. He concentrated the explosive chakra into his hands, creating an aura of intense heat and electricity around his palms. He detonated a handful of earth to destroy incoming debris. But before the explosion fully emerged, Hiroshi's gaze met his, and all of Bakugo's energy seemed halted by an invisible wall. The blast fizzled mid-air. Bakugo froze, eyes wide—for the first time, he could not easily control his explosive chakra.
> "Your chakra volume is too loud," Hiroshi said calmly yet piercingly, "lower it before you blow up your teammates."
Bakugo's heart pounded. He was used to controlling his own power, but here was someone who could neutralize his explosions with ease. The sensation made his blood boil, yet an odd respect began to grow in his chest—though he refused to admit it.
Meanwhile, Ren seized the opportunity. He noticed a gap in Hiroshi's chakra pressure pattern. Slowly, he began adjusting his chakra, forming micro-shields to block small shards. Each breath was timed with precision, each step directed so their energies would not clash. Ren began to realize that though Bakugo was wild and Hana analytical, their combination could form a fast, effective synergy—if they could restrain their egos.
Hana opened her eyes, glancing at the frustrated Bakugo. If you can't hold yourself back, you'll be the biggest problem for this team, she thought. But within that inner voice was curiosity. She wanted to see just how far Bakugo could restrain himself. Because this kid, wild as he was, had raw power rarely seen even by someone like her.
Time ticked on, second by second feeling like hours. The wind, earth, and Hiroshi's chakra aura created a battlefield forcing the three students to constantly move, manage energy, and adapt within moments. Every small mistake was punished with a harsh collision or a push from an invisible chakra wave. No mercy, no pause.
Bakugo tried another strategy. This time, he channeled his explosions in microbursts, breaking Hiroshi's chakra pressure at a tiny point, minimizing shards hitting Ren and Hana. Ren adjusted immediately, creating a mini wind shield to block the remaining fragments. Hana used speed and precision to evade all obstacles, her eyes scanning every energy pattern, recording Hiroshi's movements in detail. The team began to function—without words, almost instinctively.
One minute felt like an eternity. Their hearts pounded, breaths came in gasps, hands scraped, legs aching from impacts and blasts. When the final second came, Hiroshi lowered his hands. The ground ceased trembling, the wind subsided, wood and stone debris fell quietly to the earth.
All three collapsed, gasping, bodies covered in dust and scrapes. Faces flushed, sweat streaming, hair disheveled. Bakugo stared up at the sky, chest heaving. Hana closed her eyes briefly, calming herself, centering her chakra. Ren looked at his companions, smiling tiredly but with satisfaction.
Hiroshi approached, his steps calm yet authoritative. He examined each of them, measured, but did not utter a word—until finally, his serene voice was heard:
> "Good."
One word resonated deeply within their hearts. Not ordinary praise, not mere motivational words. Recognition from a jōnin famous for never praising anyone since the tragedy of his previous team. Their eyes met. Relief, respect, and a newfound awareness: they survived. Even under nearly lethal pressure.
Bakugo groaned softly, but his eyes burned with a fiercer fire than before. Hana opened her eyes wide, realizing that this training was not merely a physical test—it was a test of strategy, teamwork, and ego control. Ren straightened, feeling new energy flow through his body, aware that the team's potential had yet to be fully realized.
And there, in the training field, among trees trembling gently and dusty earth, the strangest team in the Shinobi Academy had just passed their first test. Not with sweet words, not with easy smiles, but with silence full of meaning, tension transformed into strength, and respect born from shared, raw experience.
This was no mere exercise. It was the beginning of a team's journey—wild, intelligent, adaptive, and with the potential to shatter all limits known to the shinobi world.