The morning air outside the Ninja Academy was crisp and refreshingly cool as Akira walked up the stone steps. The campus was already buzzing with the usual chatter of students, but today felt distinctly different for Akira. Today was his early graduation exam.
"Akira-kun! Good morning!"
Akira stopped and turned to see Izumi jogging up to him, her long dark hair swaying behind her. A bright, genuine smile lit up her face as she caught her breath beside him.
"Hey, Izumi," Akira replied with a relaxed grin, his hands casually resting in his pockets. "Morning."
"I heard you're taking the early test today," Izumi said, her big dark eyes wide with admiration and a touch of worry. "You're going to do great, but... make sure you don't push yourself too hard, okay?"
"Thanks, Izumi. Don't worry, I'll be fine," Akira chuckled, giving her a reassuring wave as his class instructor stepped out onto the balcony above and called down his name. "That's my cue. See you around!"
Akira followed his instructor deep into the administrative wing of the building, stopping outside a heavy double door. Slipping inside, he found himself standing before a long wooden desk where a panel of senior evaluators sat. Sitting front and center was the Academy Principal, a sharp-eyed veteran from the Sarutobi clan named Kazuma Sarutobi.
"Hyūga Akira," Principal Kazuma spoke, his voice deep and echoing off the walls. "You have requested early graduation after completing two years of Academy study. Before we proceed to the practical test, do you formally confirm your intent?"
"I do, Principal Kazuma," Akira answered calmly, dropping into a light, respectful bow.
"Very well," Kazuma nodded. "The standard requirement for an early graduate is simple yet demanding: you must demonstrate tactical competence by defeating an active, experienced Genin in open combat."
Kazuma gestured toward a side entrance. The door opened, and a broad-shouldered young man in his late teens stepped into the arena. He wore a standard Konoha forehead protector, a worn pouch on his hip, and carried the weary, hardened posture of a civilian-born Genin who had spent the last two years running real missions.
Both fighters stepped into the center ring and took their positions.
"Begin!" the referee called out, dropping his hand.
The Genin didn't hesitate. Reaching into his pouch, he whipped two kunai toward Akira's chest while instantly weaving a single hand seal.
Shunshin no Jutsu!
In a burst of speed, the Genin vanished into a blur, using the flying kunai as a distraction to close the distance and strike from Akira's blind spot.
Akira didn't even flinch. Without activating his Byakugan, his refined senses tracked the shift in the air pressure behind him. Reaching into his own holster, Akira tossed a smoke bomb directly at his own feet.
Pfft!
A thick, grey cloud expanded instantly, engulfing both fighters. The Genin caught himself mid-stride inside the dense smoke, his eyes wide in confusion as he lost line of sight.
"What the—"
Before the Genin could retreat, a calm, relaxed voice whispered right beside his ear.
"Gentle Fist."
Out of the smoke, Akira appeared like a ghost. His palm struck out with fluid, effortless precision, tapping the Genin's shoulder. Before the older boy could react, Akira's hands turned into a continuous, lightning-fast rhythm of soft strikes.
Eight Trigrams Thirty-Two Palms!
Two palms... four palms... eight palms... sixteen palms... thirty-two palms!
Chakra bursts pierced thirty-two vital tenketsu points across the Genin's upper body. The Genin gasped, his chakra network instantly locked down, and his legs buckled under him like wet paper. He collapsed onto the wooden floor, completely immobilized, panting heavily as he tried and failed to summon a single drop of energy.
The smoke slowly cleared, revealing Akira standing casually over his fallen opponent, not even out of breath.
The evaluators sat in stunned silence for a long moment. Dispatched an experienced Genin in less than ten seconds without even taking a hit?
"N-Ninjutsu-level chakra control... coupled with complete mastery of thirty-two palms," one of the proctors murmured, adjusting his glasses. "Incredible."
"Well, we shouldn't be entirely surprised," another senior instructor added with a chuckle, turning toward Akira's homeroom teacher. "First Hatake Kakashi, then Uchiha Itachi, and now your student, Hyūga Akira. You certainly know how to pick the geniuses, don't you?"
Akira's homeroom teacher scratched the back of his neck, a massive, proud grin splitting across his face as he soaked in the praise from his superiors.
Principal Kazuma smiled warmly, picking up a rolled scroll and a metal plate tied to a blue cloth. "Hyūga Akira. You have passed the practical evaluation with exceptional marks. By authority of the Konoha Ninja Academy, you are officially a Genin of the Leaf."
Kazuma handed Akira his brand-new Konoha forehead protector. Akira accepted it with a polite bow, tying it securely around his waist for now instead of his forehead.
"Your official squad will be Team 43," Kazuma continued, glancing down at his paperwork. "Your assigned team leader is Shimura Toguro. Report to Class 12 immediately and wait for his arrival."
"Understood. Thank you, Principal Kazuma."
Akira stepped out of the evaluation room and navigated the quiet hallways until he reached Class 12. Pushing the door open, he sat near the window, resting his chin in his palm as he looked out at the village.
Shimura Toguro, huh? Akira thought to himself, shaking his head with a quiet, inward sigh.
Not every graduate got a high-ranking Jōnin like Kakashi or Minato as an instructor. Most standard squads were assigned experienced Chūnin or Tokubetsu Jōnin. Drawing a Shimura clan member as a team leader was definitely a stroke of bad luck—Danzō's subtle hand was practically written all over it.
Ten minutes later, the classroom door slid open with a heavy thud.
A middle-aged man wearing a standard Chūnin tactical vest strode into the room. He had sharp, narrow eyes, a thin mustache, and an unmistakable air of smug arrogance surrounding him. His gaze swept the empty desks before settling directly on Akira.
"So you're the Hyūga brat," Toguro said, his voice flat and condescending as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I am Shimura Toguro, the team leader of Team 43. Don't go thinking that being a clan prodigy makes you special under my command. Come on. Let's go meet the other two deadweights you'll be stuck with."
Akira didn't push back or show any irritation. He simply offered an easygoing, polite nod, pushed himself up from his chair, and casually tucked his hands into his pockets.
"Lead the way, Instructor Toguro," Akira said smoothly.
Without another word, Toguro turned on his heel and walked out, with Akira quietly trailing a few paces behind as they made their way toward Training Ground 57.