Chapter 1 Graduation Exam
Konoha had been under nearly constant rain for weeks.
Not years — the Land of Fire did not suffer endless rainfall like Amegakure — but ever since the front lines of the Second Shinobi World War had pushed closer to Fire Country's borders, the village had lived beneath heavy clouds and heavier tension.
The air carried the damp scent of wet earth and metal. Not the smell of war itself, but the knowledge of it — carried home in casualty reports delivered daily to the Hokage Tower, where names were carved onto the Memorial Stone faster than the stonecutters could keep pace.
Because of the war, the Ninja Academy had advanced its graduation exams. The village needed shinobi. Even children would do.
On Training Field Three, rows of students—most no older than twelve—stood waiting in the rain.
"Next. Nishikawa Tetsu."
The examiner, Chūnin instructor Daikoku, checked the roster sheet beneath a transparent rain hood. His voice was flat from repetition.
A boy with black hair and dark eyes stepped forward. Slender, quiet, expression unreadable.
Unlike the others, his gaze was steady.
"Present," he said simply.
He moved to the throwing line and drew three standard-issue shuriken from his pouch.
Murmurs spread through the students.
"He only topped the written exam."
"His chakra capacity is tiny. He'll fail the ninjutsu portion anyway."
Nishikawa Tetsu ignored them. Instead of staring at the target, he observed the treeline. Wind bending branches. Raindrops striking his cheek.
Northwest wind. Moderate strength. Rain density high. Twenty meters distance. Standard iron shuriken weight.
In his mind, numbers turned.
In a world where chakra ruled, he still trusted calculation.
No flashy stance. No flourish.
Just a simple wrist snap.
The three shuriken flew.
Wind pushed them aside — until their spin subtly corrected, riding the airflow instead of fighting it.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Three hits. Perfect triangular pattern around the center mark.
Daikoku raised an eyebrow. "Full marks. Good control of projectile trajectory. Though your physical strength is lacking — shallow penetration. Still acceptable for a genin."
"This was physics," Tetsu thought, but merely bowed. "Thank you, sensei."
Daikoku gestured to the next station. "Ninjutsu trial. Use the Clone Technique."
Tetsu inhaled and formed hand seals.
Tiger → Boar → Ox → Dog → Rat.
"Clone Technique."
Smoke dispersed. Two copies appeared.
But their outlines wavered. One clone's leg flickered translucent.
Daikoku sighed and marked the sheet.
"Hand seals correct. Chakra control stable. But your chakra volume is low. Two clones is your limit."
Tetsu dismissed the clones. His chakra pathways already felt hollow.
"Yes," he admitted.
No bloodline. No monstrous reserves. No secret inheritance. Just an ordinary boy.
Daikoku handed him a forehead protector. "You pass. But remember — on the battlefield, chakra decides life and death. If you cannot end fights quickly, you will not survive long."
Final evaluation: Average.
Tetsu traced the metal plate with his thumb.
Average.
In wartime, being average meant not being targeted. Not being thrown at impossible missions. Not burning out like a prodigy.
It meant time.
Time to build something greater.
"Next. Namikaze Minato."
Instantly the mood changed.
A blond boy stepped forward, rain shining on his hair, smile bright and unshaken.
As he passed, he leaned toward Tetsu. "Your shuriken throw was incredible. How did you make them curve like that?"
"Instinct," Tetsu answered casually.
Minato laughed and stepped to the line.
What followed was unmistakable genius.
Perfect throws. Swift hand seals. A Clone Technique that produced three solid copies. A Body Flicker so fast even Daikoku lost sight of him.
"A natural talent," the instructor murmured in awe.
Nearby, another boy watched in silence. Black hair. Arms crossed. The red-and-white fan of the Uchiha clan on his back. His eyes were cool, assessing.
Tetsu tied his forehead protector around his arm.
Low chakra. A critical weakness.
If the body could not produce more power…
Then power would be built.
Explosive tag chemistry. Chakra-conductive alloys. Mechanical launchers. Sealing-storage compression.
Numbers, formulas, designs.
A thin smile crossed his lips.
"This world runs on chakra," he thought.
"Then I will build a way to rival chakra with science."