Roshi's figure disappeared down the steps at the edge of the training field.
Kurotsuchi pulled her gaze back—she'd been quietly watching him leave—and went on with her frog jumps, just as Guy had prescribed.
Bend the knees and spring up, the body tracing a short arc through the air before landing. Over and over. The movement was so repetitive it freed her mind to wander.
After spending some time in the special training class, if there was any "intel" she'd picked up, it was this: if this bunch of brats really were going to become the future high-ranking officials of their villages…
…then Kumogakure's future looked the most worrying. The only Cloud ninja in the quota, Atsui, was a complete idiot. Aside from a sturdy build and decent kenjutsu, his brain seemed filled with nothing but hot-blooded passion—and now, after catching Guy's influence, he'd added "youth" to the mix.
From what she'd managed to pry out, Kurotsuchi was convinced the only reason he could represent the Hidden Cloud was because of his older sister, Samui, the permanent Cloud representative stationed in Konoha, currently serving as a special instructor at the Ninja Academy.
As for Konoha… Konoha didn't have a single upperclassman selected into the Special Training Class. That either meant there was no one in the higher grades worth special attention, or… that the real core strength had already been absorbed into other, more secret systems.
All the important "seeds" were concentrated in the second and third-year batches.
Looking at individuals, aside from Rock Lee—whose taijutsu was frankly insane—the rest were each interesting in their own way.
Sai's skin was unnaturally pale, and that fake smile never left his face, yet compared to the other two, he actually seemed almost cheerful.
Hyuga Neji and Uchiha Sasuke, heirs to Dōjutsu Bloodline Limits, were each gloomier than the other, and the competitive tension between them was obvious at a glance.
There was no doubting the strength of Konoha's students; they were very strong. But beyond that, Kurotsuchi hadn't yet seen anything in them that went beyond the scope of what she'd call "excellent shinobi."
Then there was Iwagakure's old neighbor—Sunagakure, sometimes enemy, sometimes less-than-harmonious ally.
Gaara, Temari, Kankuro.
Temari and Kankuro were impressive in their own right; their strength, tactical sense, and coordination were all commendable. But Gaara… Gaara was absurdly strong.
Even Neji, the strongest of Konoha's side, couldn't gain any advantage against him in simulated sparring.
Power, in itself, wasn't rare. Deidara-nii was so strong he constantly gave Grandpa a headache; his explosive art was so destructive that even Gaara would probably be forced to retreat, at least for a moment.
Thinking of this, Kurotsuchi glanced again at the blond guy not far away, grinning broadly as Guy thumped him on the shoulder.
She was afraid that once this exchange ended and they all went home, Grandpa's headache would be even worse—not only had Brother Deidara's dangerous ideas not been corrected, but he'd actually found a kindred spirit.
But Gaara was different.
He was strong, yet he didn't have Deidara's flashy, almost exhibitionist arrogance. His way of speaking was straightforward, sometimes even seeming cold, but there was no contempt in that coldness—only a kind of… settled calm.
It was the sort of presence that made people instinctively think, "He can lead others," and, "What he says is worth listening to."
The feeling was immediate.
He would be the future leader of the Hidden Sand Village.
That conclusion rose up clearly in Kurotsuchi's mind, without the slightest hesitation.
A second-year student, one year younger than her, was already showing that kind of caliber.
Kurotsuchi finished her last set of frog jumps, stood up, and brushed the dust from her pant legs. As Ōnoki's granddaughter, she had never lacked confidence.
Yet at this moment, staring at that small red-haired figure on the training field, Kurotsuchi felt pressure this clearly for the first time.
It didn't come from her elders' expectations, nor from her responsibilities to the village.
It was because a true monster had appeared among her peers.
—
Venue District, Hidden Mist Village Station
Mei Terumī stood by the reception room window, fingers unconsciously twirling a lock of auburn curls draped over her shoulder.
By all rights, she should have already gone back. But she couldn't leave yet.
After Iwagakure requested a meeting, Kumogakure had proposed setting up a communication system.
As someone who could, in practice, represent the Village, it would be foolish to think only of returning right now.
The fighting strength left in the village was enough to handle most situations, and Yagura had made preparations long ago. Under those circumstances, even if something did happen, her going back alone wouldn't make much of a difference.
What she really should be doing now is suppressing this useless impatience and trying to secure better terms and promises for the village.
"…Sigh."
A barely audible breath slipped from her lips. Convincing herself was one thing; completely smoothing out that thin thread of worry in her heart, stretched tight by distance, was another.
Through the window, she saw the person she'd been waiting for arrive.
Mei released the lock of hair. Almost instantly, her usual smile returned, neatly tucking away all the hesitation and concern from a moment ago.
She turned from the window and walked toward the door.
By the time Rōshi stepped into the reception room, led in by a Kirigakure ninja, Mei was already seated calmly at the tea table.
"It's really troubling Roshi-kun to come in person," Mei said, gesturing for him to sit, her smile bright. "It's about the matter of our exchange students."
"It's part of my duty." Roshi sat down across from her and accepted the teacup she handed over. "Are the students ready?"
"Yes. They're waiting in the room next door."
Just like the Iwagakure Exchange Students who had entered Konoha early, this group from Kirigakure could no longer remain in the "Village outside the Village" in the Venue District. With two major consecutive meetings about to be held and all kinds of people gathering there, it wasn't an appropriate place for them anymore.
Entrance registration and class placement would be handled by the Konoha Ninja Academy.
However, because of the spore technique incident, Roshi had made a special trip to conduct a personal screening.
The process itself wasn't complicated, though among the twenty-five students from the Mist, there were a few particularly notable ones.
Besides Chōjūrō, there were also Haku and Suigetsu.
By ending the Bloody Mist era early, it seemed the Hidden Mist had managed to preserve quite a bit of its vitality.
The inspection finished quickly. As expected, there were no problems; none of the students had been affected.
"Thank you for your hard work, Roshi-kun." Mei, who had accompanied him the whole time, let out a quiet sigh of relief. Her smile relaxed into something more genuine. "It seems our Hidden Mist has fairly good luck."
"It's always better to be cautious," Roshi replied. "The aptitude of this batch of children from the Mist is very good."
"It is their honor to receive praise from Roshi-kun," she said softly, then added, tinged with melancholy, "Being able to study in Konoha as exchange students might even be a good thing—something that better ensures their safety."
Roshi looked at her but didn't respond, simply waiting in silence.
Their gazes met briefly in midair.
Mei was the first to avert her eyes, turning back to the bright yet unfamiliar scene outside the window.
The sunlight in Konoha was wonderful—so gentle it could almost make one forget the storms brewing elsewhere in the Ninja World.
"Sometimes I feel… like I'm racing against time," she murmured. "I want to make more preparations for the village, laying down a few more paths. But the enemy won't wait for you to be ready."
"The 'merging' Roshi-kun spoke of... is beautiful and something to aspire to."
"But the road leading there…" Mei finally turned back again, meeting Roshi's gaze. Her green eyes clearly reflected his figure, and within them flickered a complicated light—a mixture of longing and worry.
"…is likely much more rugged, and much longer, than we can imagine while just sitting here right now."
The reception room fell completely silent.
The noise and bustle outside the window were shut out, leaving only the soft sound of their breathing and the white steam rising from the two cups of tea on the table, slowly fading into the air.
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