The classroom was so still it felt unnatural — as if even the air had stopped moving.
Not a single whisper dared to break the silence. No creak of wood from shifting feet. Only the steady, almost too-loud rhythm of dozens of heartbeats.
Today was the last trial before graduation.
Eight years at the Usuki Academy had built to this moment: mastery of the Fukashi Technique of Stealth.
The instructors liked to call it "the simplest skill" — a phrase that felt like mockery now. Every student in the room could feel the pressure clinging to their skin like cold sweat.
One by one, names were called. Students stepped forward, made their attempt, and either returned with quiet triumph… or with failure heavy on their shoulders.
Until only one name remained.
"Hatashi Hirakima."
Hatashi rose. His movements were deliberate; his steps almost unnervingly calm for someone of sixteen. His frame was slim but wiry — built for speed rather than brute force. Bright orange hair framed the faint X-shaped scar on his forehead, the mark of the Hirakima lineage. Once, his family had stood among the proudest of the Akira clan. Now, he carried the name alone.
Two voices broke the stillness from the far side of the room.
"You can do it, Hatashi!"
Kaitara and Tiatsuri Hirashima — siblings, partners in training, and troublemakers both. Tiatsuri was broad-shouldered, his pink hair jutting out in unruly spikes, carrying the confident air of a brawler. Kaitara was his opposite in build: slender, graceful, but never hesitant to throw herself into danger. Her red hair caught the dim light when she smiled — and she was smiling now.
Hatashi gave them a small, fleeting grin before stepping forward.
"Begin," the instructor said.
Hatashi closed his eyes. The murmur of breathing, the faint thud of hearts — all of it faded until there was nothing but the rhythm of his own breath.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
He felt his presence blur, as though the world itself was beginning to overlook him. In the blink of an eye, he performed the hand sign and was gone.
Gasps spread through the room. Students craned their necks, searching for any sign of him.
A heartbeat later, Hatashi reappeared behind the instructor, silent as falling ash.
"…Pass," the man said at last, his face betraying the faintest flicker of approval.
Kaitara and Tiatsuri were on him instantly — Tiatsuri's congratulatory slap nearly knocked him forward, and Kaitara hugged him with a grin that dared anyone to ruin the moment.
Earlier that year, it hadn't been like this.
*****