Graduation came with applause that felt rehearsed.
Kiyoshi stood among his classmates beneath a clear spring sky, forehead protector cool against his skin. The metal plate reflected light in a way he found mildly distracting. He adjusted it once, then left it alone.
Around him, emotions churned.
Naruto shouted triumphantly, arms raised, grinning as if he had conquered the village itself. His chakra roared unchecked, wild and expansive, leaking enthusiasm into the air. Sasuke stood apart, expression calm but rigid, chakra tight and coiled like a drawn wire. Others flickered with relief, pride, anxiety.
Kiyoshi's own chakra stayed quiet.
He had learned to keep it that way.
Iruka congratulated them, voice warm, eyes lingering on Naruto with something like disbelief. Kiyoshi met Iruka's gaze once, briefly, then looked away. Attention, even well-meaning, had weight. He preferred lightness.
Team assignments followed.
When Team Seven was announced—Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura—the room reacted as expected. Groans, whispers, amusement. Kiyoshi noted Sakura's spike of excitement, Sasuke's indifference, Naruto's confusion.
His own name came later.
"Team Ten: Ino Yamanaka, Choji Akimichi, and Kiyoshi."
Ino glanced over, curious. Choji offered a shy nod. Kiyoshi returned it. This team made sense. Balance. Observation. Support.
As they dispersed, Kiyoshi felt a subtle shift in the air.
Not chakra.
Something else.
It was faint, almost nonexistent within the Academy grounds, but outside the walls—where trees thickened and the land breathed freely—there was a presence. Diffuse. Unclaimed. It did not move like chakra. It did not *belong* to anyone.
He paused, hand tightening briefly at his side.
So that was the difference.
He did not pursue the thought.
---
Asuma Sarutobi arrived late.
He leaned against a tree, cigarette unlit between his fingers, eyes scanning his new team with casual interest. Kiyoshi watched him closely. The man's chakra was calm, seasoned, shaped by years of refinement. It moved with intent even at rest.
"Alright," Asuma said, "let's see what you can do."
The exercise was simple. Coordination. Awareness. Nothing flashy.
Kiyoshi let Ino take the lead. He followed instructions precisely, contributing when necessary, holding back when not. Choji's strength was obvious, but his hesitation was just as visible. Ino's chakra pulsed sharply when she focused, mind pushing outward in ways most genin wouldn't notice.
Asuma noticed everything.
By the end, he scratched his beard thoughtfully. "You're all competent," he said. "That's not common."
His eyes settled on Kiyoshi for a moment longer than necessary.
Kiyoshi met his gaze calmly.
Asuma smiled faintly, then looked away.
---
Training intensified over the following weeks.
Team Ten worked well together, better than expected. Kiyoshi learned their rhythms quickly. Choji needed reassurance. Ino needed engagement. Neither required dominance. Kiyoshi positioned himself accordingly.
During sparring sessions, Asuma paired them against other teams.
That was when Kiyoshi fought Naruto for the first time.
The match was unofficial, more chaos than structure. Naruto charged headlong, clones erupting into existence in uneven bursts. The ground shook under their feet as fists met dirt.
Kiyoshi breathed once and moved.
He did not think in techniques. He saw lines.
Naruto's chakra flared outward, dense and heavy, overwhelming its own container. The clones followed predictable patterns, each one a slightly flawed copy of the original's intent.
Kiyoshi stepped between them.
A clone swung. Kiyoshi ducked, pivoted, tapped its balance point with two fingers. The clone dispersed. Another rushed him from the side. Kiyoshi redirected it into a third. Both vanished in smoke.
Naruto blinked, startled, then laughed. "Hey! You're pretty good!"
Kiyoshi said nothing.
Naruto charged again.
This time, Kiyoshi misstepped.
Naruto's punch grazed his shoulder, enough to knock him back. Kiyoshi rolled, came to a knee, and raised his hands in surrender.
Asuma called the match.
Naruto scratched his head, confused. "I thought I had you."
Kiyoshi nodded. "You did."
Naruto beamed.
Asuma's eyes narrowed slightly.
---
Later that evening, Kiyoshi trained alone near the edge of the village.
The forest here was older, less manicured. The air felt different. He could sense it again—that diffuse presence, spread thinly between leaves and soil. It pressed against his awareness without resistance.
Carefully, he extended his perception.
His chakra responded instantly, reaching outward like a hand.
The moment it touched that other presence, he recoiled.
They were not the same.
Chakra was shaped. Directed. It carried intent, memory, identity. This presence did not. It was vast and indifferent, flowing through everything without preference.
If chakra was breath, this was the air itself.
Kiyoshi withdrew at once.
His heart pounded.
Understanding flooded in uninvited. He saw how the two could align, how chakra might borrow without stealing, how imbalance would invite consequence.
Too early.
Too dangerous.
He sat down, back against a tree, and waited until his breathing steadied.
No one else needed to know this. Not Asuma. Not the Hokage. Not even himself, beyond what was necessary.
Power understood too soon became a burden.
---
The first C-rank mission came quietly.
Escort duty. A merchant with nervous eyes and too many questions. The road stretched long and uneventful until it didn't.
Bandits ambushed them at dusk.
It was sloppy. Desperate men with blades dulled by neglect. Asuma took down two before they realized what was happening.
One broke past.
Kiyoshi moved.
The man lunged, blade flashing. Kiyoshi stepped inside the arc, grabbed the wrist, and twisted. He felt tendons give, calculated the force subconsciously. The blade fell. Kiyoshi struck the man's throat—not hard enough to kill, just enough to end the fight.
It was over in seconds.
Ino stared at him afterward, eyes narrowed. "You didn't hesitate."
Kiyoshi shrugged. "He was committed."
Asuma said nothing.
That night, as they camped, Kiyoshi lay awake again.
The forest breathed around them.
For the first time, he did not push the awareness away.
He let it brush against him, carefully, distantly, like standing near a river without stepping in.
The world felt larger.
And for once, that did not frighten him.