Amamiya Shinsuke stared down at the slip of paper trembling in his hand. One name was written on it in firm strokes: Shiraishi Koizumi. A member of the Shiraishi clan.
Shinsuke's fingers tightened around the paper. He took a slow breath, muttering under his breath, Alright… I can win this. I have to.
The tournament began under the heavy tension of a dozen nervous hearts. The first match was Hatake Hoshino versus a young ninja from the Katori clan.
At the referee's signal, the two blurred into motion—chakra flashing, steel clashing, the sharp ring of kunai echoing across the arena.
"Wait, that kid's what, six? Seven?" one of the onlookers whispered. "He's moving like a Chūnin."
Even the veteran shinobi in the stands paused. Hoshino's chakra control and precision at his age weren't just good—they were terrifying.
Within minutes, Hoshino's short blade rested coldly against his opponent's throat. The Katori ninja hesitated, sighed, and raised his hand in defeat.
The crowd broke into murmurs. The first match set the bar high.
From there, the duels came one after another—raw chakra, sweat, bruises, and pride clashing in waves. The children of the next generation fought with startling ferocity, molded by the strict discipline of the Alliance's academy. The older jonin watching from above frowned, impressed despite themselves.
Time bled forward through shouts and dust until only one match remained: Shinsuke's.
From the stands, Nasha cupped her hands around her mouth. "Shinsuke-kun! You got this!"
He forced a smile and nodded, though his heart hammered so loud he could barely hear her. Everyone else had passed. If he lost now, he'd be the weak link—the embarrassment of his squad.
Not happening.
As soon as the match began, Koizumi dashed forward with killing intent. Shinsuke met him head-on, no longer underestimating anyone. His eyes sharpened. His steps fell into the rhythm he'd drilled for weeks.
Their kunai clashed, sparks dancing. They weaved through seals almost in sync, both unleashing C-rank jutsu unique to their clans.
But Shinsuke had the edge—Amamiya stamina and chakra reserves ran deep. He pushed harder, overpowered Koizumi's technique, and forced him to the ground.
Silence fell. Then—
"Yeah!!" Shinsuke threw both fists into the air, laughing in disbelief. "I actually did it!"
Nasha ran up to congratulate him, while Hatake Hoshino, watching from the sidelines, tilted his head with quiet surprise. The "crane's tail" of their class had just taken a clean win.
The qualifiers concluded soon after. From the stands, seasoned shinobi from across the Fire Country murmured among themselves.
If only one or two prodigies had emerged from the Konoha Alliance, they wouldn't have cared. But there were eight—maybe ten—young geniuses standing tall. That was enough to make even rival clans uneasy.
Still, worry or not, the finalists prepared for what came next: the Third Assessment—the real test.
They were given one day to rest. One day to patch wounds, mend nerves, and sharpen blades.
By dawn of the fourth day, the Konoha Alliance roared with life. Crowds swelled toward the grand arena, civilians and shinobi alike gathering for the final matches.
Even dignitaries from other provinces arrived to watch. The massive coliseum overflowed—no seats left, no silence anywhere.
On the highest platform sat the six clan heads. And then, as murmurs spread, a new voice echoed—
"Amamiya Raizen-sama has arrived!"
The patriarch of the Amamiya Clan walked calmly to the center platform, his presence steady as iron. He greeted the others with a nod before sitting.
An Amamiya aide hurried to him. "Patriarch, the guests are seated. All participants are ready. We can begin at your word."
Raizen nodded, scanning the crowd. His gaze caught on a group wearing the flame crest of the Fire Daimyō's household.
So they came personally…
The support of the Daimyō's court would be vital for the future of the "one village, one nation" system. This event wasn't just an exam—it was a show of strength. A declaration that the Konoha Alliance was more than just an experiment.
Raizen stood and amplified his voice through chakra, his tone clear and commanding.
"Welcome, honored guests, to the Konoha Alliance. Today marks both the founding of our Alliance and the final assessment of our Genin candidates. On behalf of every clan that shed blood for this peace, I thank you for coming."
He paused, the crowd stilling.
"Let the final assessment begin."
With that, a jonin appeared in a blur of movement at the center of the field. His voice boomed across the stands:
"The third exam will be held as a one-on-one tournament—four matches in total, eight participants!"
He checked his scroll. "First match: Katori Shiki of the Katori Clan versus Asakusa Ren, son of a wandering ninja!"
Two figures leapt from opposite sides of the arena.
Murmurs rippled through the stands again.
"The Katori are mid-ranked, but they've got structure. That Asakusa kid's a wanderer's brat—no chance."
"Don't be so sure. Bloodline doesn't always win battles."
The match was set. The crowd leaned forward, eager to see whether legacy or grit would triumph first.
And high above them all, Amamiya Raizen watched quietly, arms crossed, eyes steady—measuring not just skill, but the future that would rise from this new generation of shinobi.