Morning sunlight spilled over the Usuki Academy's training grounds, the mist still clinging to the earth in lazy curls. The golden light edged the outlines of hundreds of students standing in neat rows, each waiting for the call that would decide their future.
This was the day they would be assigned their squads — and their sensei.
For most, the wait was agony.
At the front, Principal Kizune Haruno stood with a list in hand, calling out names. Cheers and chatter followed each grouping, pairs and trios breaking off with their new instructors. Slowly, the field emptied.
Until only three students remained.
Hatashi Hirakima.
Kaitara Hirashima.
Tiatsuri Hirashima.
Kaitara crossed her arms, her crimson hair shifting in the breeze. "Why hasn't he come yet?"
Tiatsuri smirked, though his gaze swept the grounds with restless energy. "Relax. He's probably on his way."
Hatashi stood a little apart, his eyes unfocused. The memory — no, the encounter — with Nakimara still lingered in the back of his mind like a shadow he couldn't shake.
Was it just a dream? Or was the demon truly waiting for another chance?
He clenched his fists.
No. I beat him. He's gone.
Somewhere deep inside, Nakimara's grin curled wider.
An hour passed. The three eventually drifted toward the shade of a large oak near the training yard's edge. The warmth of the sun, combined with the soft rustle of leaves, wore them down. One by one, they dozed off.
A sharp voice cut through their sleep.
"Rise and shine, sleepyheads."
They were on their feet in an instant, kunai in hand.
The man standing before them was tall and lean, with unruly blue hair falling into sharp, watchful eyes. His stance was relaxed, but there was something about him — a coiled readiness, as though he could strike faster than a blink.
Hatashi lowered his weapon slightly. "Sensei Hashiro Mitsuke?"
Kaitara's brows lifted. "You're our instructor?"
"I thought you were still stationed at the academy," Tiatsuri added.
Hashiro's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Not enough instructors to go around. I volunteered to take you three."
"That's… comforting," Hatashi muttered.
Kaitara ignored him. "When do we start?"
"Before we begin," Hashiro said, holding up three headbands that gleamed in the sunlight, "you'll need these. Proof of your graduation."
Tiatsuri frowned. "When did you—"
But the headbands were already gone, tucked into Hashiro's pouch. "If you want them," he said casually, "you'll have to take them from me."
Kaitara lunged without hesitation, kunai flashing — but the air where Hashiro had stood was suddenly empty.
A voice came from above. "Too slow."
They looked up to find him perched high in a tree branch, perfectly balanced.
Kaitara was halfway up the trunk before Tiatsuri could say a word. She reached the branch — and was blasted backward by a sudden burst of wind. She hit the ground hard, coughing.
Hashiro looked down at them, arms crossed. "Your mission: get these headbands within fifteen minutes. Fail, and you go home."
Tiatsuri smirked. "Fine by me."
"You can use any weapon," Hashiro continued, his tone still calm. "But understand — to take them, you must fight with the intent to kill."