"You look rested," Maruboshi said to Takuma, who no longer had any dark circles under his skin, vampiric pale skin, and slouched shoulders that he had for most of the last month.
"I slept twelve hours straight; I couldn't be more rested," said Takuma. Yesterday, he had won his first spar ever, yet embarrassed himself in front of the class by crying. When he reached his house after, it took barely over a minute for him to get from the front door to his bed.
"Good, good," Maruboshi looked relieved, and Takuma felt guilty. They had multiple conversations about Takuma's downhill condition, but Takuma had brushed off Maruboshi's concerns. "How are you feeling about today?"
The last attempt at the graduation test was due in a little over an hour.
Takuma shrugged. "I don't want to give the test, wish I had more time to prepare... but at the same time, I just want to get this over with. Finally, rest for a change," he sighed.
He had a privileged upbringing. A harmonious family with loving parents who provided for him, nothing lavish, but he never allowed to feel a lack of anything. He attended good private schools with relatively good teachers and a wonderful group of friends at every stage of his life. Some of them who he considered his friends for life. Even when he entered college, he was a day scholar and commuted right from his family home and never had to adjust to dorm life. And he never had to participate in job search as it was still a couple years in the future.
It was now that he realized that he had never really faced any hardships. Not a single life event had him seek his independence. He didn't have to worry about his finances, food, housekeeping, and a looming bleak future— in his second life, he had faced everything all simultaneously. The wild identity crisis was the cherry on top.
He was tired. He wasn't even at the starting line and was already tired.
"I will give it my best," Takuma smiled shallowly, "if I pass, good for me; if I don't, I'll leave it to the fates," he pointed to the sky. He drew from a certain green-haired three-point basketball sniper— man proposes, god disposes... do everything humanly possible, and then let the fates decide.
Maruboshi gazed down at Takuma with a peculiar gaze.
"What?"
The old shinobi shook his head lightly. A light smile wrinkled his face as he said, "You are going to make a splendid shinobi, young Takuma."
"You're only saying that because you taught me everything I know," Takuma said, but he had a big grin.
———
.
Takuma sat in the classroom turned waiting room for the graduation test in the auditorium. He had his eyes closed, trying to tune out the cacophony of his classmates' voices in the room. The first time, the classroom had been a blanket of hushed conversations, with everyone worried about their performance; on the second attempt, everyone opened up a bit and participated in discussions with each other on their predictions and supposed best tactics to ace the practical portion of the testing.
Both those times, there had been tension in the room. They were going into the unknown the first time, and the second time, they were aiming to improve over their first performance. However, this time... the room lacked any strain of tension. No one seemed to be worried about the ongoing testing, and even though the discussions revolved around it, the mood was casual.
Takuma couldn't blame them. Everyone had passed in the room; they had passed twice over. And Kibe's insistent talks about not pulling the foot from the gas pedal had eventually lost steam. Everyone in the room was already a shinobi, and going through the same thing twice was enough for them to be confident.
Everyone except him. Takuma felt his morning's words spoken a little too early. The pre-test jitters were hitting him as hard as any other day. He tried to meditate (something Maruboshi was an avid promoter of)— but he wasn't very good at meditation, and it didn't seem to be working now.
Takuma suddenly had an idea, and he pulled out a 1-ryo coin and slapped it on his arm. He didn't care if it felt like he was a nicotine addict trying to feed into his craving with a nicotine patch. Concentrating on the Leaf Concentration Practice ver coin kept him focused on his chakra control rather than his errant thoughts.
If someone told him that he was using the Leaf Concentration Practice to calm his nerves down a few months back, Takuma would have laughed first and then slapped them hard for even joking about it, as that sounded absolutely masochistic. Maruboshi had forever ruined any positive association with the exercise for him.
"Takuma."
He opened his eyes and saw Kibe at the door. It was finally his turn. He got up from the last bench and walked down the steps. He practiced a breathing exercise to keep his dancing heartbeat down.
"Going for another fail, Takuma! Best of luck; I'm rooting for you!" Hiji shouted snarkily over from his seat on the other side of the classroom.
"Shut it, Hiji!" Kibe scolded immediately.
Takuma looked at No.1 on his most disliked list and thought— yesterday was the last day of the academy; today was after that. 'Huh, I guess that's right.'
He raised his arm towards Hiji and flicked his middle finger up.
"Fuck off, mutt."
The many pairs of eyes accompanied by a few gasps turned to Takuma and then toward the shocked Hiji, who opened his mouth to say something but closed it, his eyes looking at the class.
Takuma passed by Hana, seated in the front rows. "No offense," he said.
Before anyone could say anything, Takuma was already out of the classroom, and Kibe had already closed the door behind them.
Like the last two times, Kibe led him across the corridor to the testing hall.
"How did your paper go?" asked Kibe.
"I will pass," said Takuma shortly. It had gone well, exceeding his expectations— the question set had been in his favor this time, and he was sure he would score at least an 80% grade. If he was being optimistic about the grading, he could sniff the 90% ceiling.
Silence fell between the teacher and the student. It wasn't surprising; they didn't talk much. If they were in a big college class, Takuma would be a student of whom Kibe didn't know the name.
Kibe broke the silence and started, "If your paper is decent—"
"Even if I do badly in everything else, there's a real chance I could pass. I just need to successfully perform academy three. I know; you have told me before," said Takuma without looking at Kibe.
"... I see," said Kibe. There was another pause. "Can you... can you do all three?"
They reached the auditorium entrance. Takuma grabbed the handle and slid the door open. He stared inside but didn't immediately enter; instead, he said, "You'll know when you get my result," and without sparing a glance to Kibe, Takuma slipped inside.
The inside of the auditorium was the same as Takuma had seen the last two times. The length of the hall had been dived up to different portions of the testing. His eyes automatically went to the second-floor corridor from where multiple shinobi peered down the testing floor. He gave each of them a hard look, memorizing as much detail as he could. There were ten of them.
He waited for the bukijutsu invigilator to call him up. Despite having given the test twice, the invigilator had him listen to the instructors again, going through everything in clear detail.
"Understood?"
Takuma nodded and headed towards the weapons table. He picked up the only three weapons he knew how to wield— kunai, shuriken, and senbon. The weapons were still off-balance, and the exercise targets were similar to the last two times. The difference came from Takuma's performance; he still threw his weapons one at a time, but he was much quicker in his successive throws, and the consistency and accuracy couldn't be compared to his first attempt. Almost all of his throws hit the red bullseyes.
The instructor nodded as he blocked the senbon. Takuma had learned his lesson and had aimed at vital spots.
This invigilator was different from the last two times, and this one didn't give advice like the bukijutsu invigilator from the first attempt did.
Takuma moved on to the next portion of the testing, arguably the most important part of it— at least for him.
"Ah," the sound unintentionally came out of Takuma.
The ninjutsu invigilator looked up. The middle-aged woman with grey streaks in her hair had the same red-trimmed explosion tag-styled earrings as before that dangled when she moved her head. Her eyes flashed, and Takuma knew she recognized him. She looked down at her clipboard before speaking.
"Takuma?"
Takuma nodded, and the woman repeated the instructions for the ninjutsu test. She showed no sign of recognition, which made him wonder if she was pretending to not recognize him.
"Let's start with Bunshin no Jutsu (Clone Jutsu)," she said. Takuma weaved the hands seals, and six clones stood around the real him. They moved, changed expressions, and did various things. The invigilator's eyes shined before she noted something on her clipboard and asked him to proceed with Henge no Jutsu (Transformation Jutsu).
She gave no imitation target, so Takuma transformed into one of the shinobi on the second-floor corridor. His appearance was fresh in his mind, and he knew that transforming into the ninjutsu invigilator was the wrong choice— even if she was supposed to be objective in her grading, there was a chance she would be offended by something in his imitation. He didn't want that.
Finally, it was time for Kawarimi no Jutsu (Substitution Jutsu). It was the jutsu he had least practiced, as it was the last academy three he had picked up. From the get-go, Takuma had come to know that Maruboshi didn't like Kawarimi no Jutsu as it was a completely useless jutsu. The jutsu required the user to substitute an object in their place to take an attack, followed by getting out of the enemy's sight. It was essentially pulling up a shield to block an attack and then ditching said shield before running away. It was the running part that Maruboshi had a problem with, even though the hand seals for the jutsu were exclusively used during the running part. According to Maruboshi, the running and hiding part was inefficient as it only worked when the surrounding environment allowed it. The jutsu would work splendidly in a forest but miserably fail in a grassland. Moreover, the user needed to weave hand seals quickly for the jutsu to work seamlessly. It also failed when the attack was faster than the user's ability to procure the substitute.
The only reason Kawarimi no Jutsu was taught in the academy was because the chakra movement caused by the hand seals granted the user a short burst of linear speed, which allowed them to hide quickly (it would be useless if the enemy's sight could catch the fast movement). And that chakra movement was six points similar to Shunshin no Jutsu (Body Flicker Jutsu)— a high-speed movement technique that allowed the user to move linear distance at speeds untraceable by the untrained eye. Shunshin no Jutsu was a necessary jutsu that every shinobi needed to know, and thus the academy used Kawarimi no Jutsu to lay the foundation.
Kawarimi no Jutsu wasn't supposed to be used in the field as it was only a training tool, but for some reason no one told the students that. Well, he knew because Maruboshi had told him.
The invigilator pointed to a sandbag and asked to use it as the substitute, something Takuma was thankful for as he didn't want to use one of his precious and very limited storage sealing scrolls that had something he could use as a substitute. The invigilator threw a dulled kunai at Takuma, who stood several meters away. There was a puff of smoke, and the kunai was embedded into the sandbag, with Takuma standing a few feet away from it.
"Excellent!" the invigilator clapped her hands. "You performed all three splendidly. You have improved so much!"
'I knew it,' thought Takuma— the invigilator did recognize him. But he didn't say anything about it and simply moved away to the next part of testing— the taijutsu portion.
The taijutsu invigilator didn't call him up immediately, and Takuma was glad about it. If he had been called, Takuma didn't know if his legs would've held up as they were trembling uncontrollably.
He had passed. Third time's the charm. After two failures, he passed the hardest thing he had done in his life. Takuma felt a boulder's weight lift above his head. He tried to keep some tension in his body as the testing wasn't over, but when he knew that he was going to pass no matter what, it was tough to feel anything other than utter and complete relief.
He wanted to leave the academy grounds and run to find Maruboshi so that he could tell his teacher, his one and only supporter, his rock, that he had done it. A year of struggle, ten months of training, countless sleepless nights— his time hadn't been a waste. He had done it. He couldn't describe it, but he had never ever felt it. It was a sense of accomplishment— but it was nothing like he had ever experienced. All of his previous achievements seemed pointless in the face of what he felt right now.
Takuma didn't have the time to dwell as the taijutsu invigilator called him up. It wasn't anything special. When facing someone far superior in skill, the performance of the lesser didn't reflect any difference even when they got better. Takuma, who had just yesterday won his first spar, his performance didn't seem any different from the last time. As for what went into the clipboard, Takuma would only know when he got the result.
"You can exit through that door for the next part," said the taijutsu invigilator afterward, pointing to the outdoor exit of the auditorium.
Takuma nodded and walked to the exit, but before he stepped out, he looked back at the auditorium and took a moment to take in the entirety of the auditorium hall. He wanted to remember it for now and for the future.
When he stepped out, his eyes widened when he found himself looking at a bald old man dressed in a kimono sitting under a big umbrella with a coal brazier lit near his feet. The entire yard was covered with snow, but a circular area around the old man was void of snow and even any moisture on the ground.
"Sit down," said the old man.
Takuma sat down in front of the old man. The entire scene invoked a strong sense of deja-vu in him. The same events from the first attempt were repeating again. He was sitting in front of the same bald old man who was again staring at him in silence, but this time with a small smile.
Takuma found the tension he had lost before returning— something about the old man unnerved him.
"I only have one question for you, Takuma," said the old man, still smiling.
Takuma leaned forward in his chair slightly. He was ready; no matter what the old man threw at him, he was going to answer; he was prepared this time.
"How many people stood in the auditorium's second-floor corridor?"
Takuma was taken aback. The same question? He was sure there would be another question. He leaned back into this chair and took a moment to contemplate.
"... Nine of them," he said— one person was sitting.
The old man's small smile bloomed into a full-blown one. "Smart child," he said and stood up from his seat.
Takuma felt a hot breeze tickling him under his ear. He frowned but didn't raise his hand to scratch the itch as he was in front of the invigilator. It went away on its own.
The old man who had stood up frowned as he looked at him. Takuma was confused at the sudden change in expression but didn't say anything. Maybe the old man was experiencing pains that came with old age.
The old man's expression eased, and he stepped away from his chair, and Takuma's eyes widened when he saw an identical old man sitting in the chair— it was as if the old man had left an afterimage behind him.
How? Takuma looked between the identical old men— one sitting and one standing. He glanced at both of their feet and saw that both had shadows. 'Not Bunshin no Jutsu... Kage Bunshin no Jutsu (Shadow Clone Jutsu)?' he thought. But there were no hand seals or the puff of smoke. The puff of smoke could be eliminated, but what about the hand seal? How did the old man make a clone appear in his chair so seamlessly?
As Takuma's mind raced to find an answer, the standing old man saw Takuma's eyes going between him and his chair. His expression once again faltered.
"... You can see through it... already?" said the standing old man with surprise.
"Huh? I-I mean, yes. I can see the clone," said Takuma, confused. Was he not supposed to see the clone?
"... That's not a clone," the old man pointed at his chair.
Takuma's confusion deepened. His brows arched together as he gazed at the old man in the chair. If it wasn't a clone, then what was it—... the answer clicked like the last piece of a puzzle.
"Genjutsu," he gasped. Takuma's hand made a tiger hand seal and immediately dispelled the genjutsu cast upon him. Maruboshi hadn't taught him to cast genjutsu (it wasn't even on the table), but he had taught him how to dispel one— it was easy.
The old man in the chair disappeared like a mirage, leaving only the standing old man behind.
Takuma breathed a sigh of relief, but confusion still plagued him. With a little thinking, it was clear that the old man was planning to fool him through a genjutsu. Under the guise of illusion, he would get up, leaving behind an illusion of him still sitting, making it so that Takuma would think nothing had changed. But why was he able to see the standing old man, who he wasn't supposed to see, when the genjutsu had clearly been cast successfully.
Had the old man made a mistake?
Takuma didn't get an answer that day. The old man didn't say anything else before sending him away.
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to Patreón [fictiononlyreader]. Link below.
Note: All the chapters will eventually be posted on public forums.
"You look rested," Maruboshi said to Takuma, who no longer had any dark circles under his skin, vampiric pale skin, and slouched shoulders that he had for most of the last month.
"I slept twelve hours straight; I couldn't be more rested," said Takuma. Yesterday, he had won his first spar ever, yet embarrassed himself in front of the class by crying. When he reached his house after, it took barely over a minute for him to get from the front door to his bed.
"Good, good," Maruboshi looked relieved, and Takuma felt guilty. They had multiple conversations about Takuma's downhill condition, but Takuma had brushed off Maruboshi's concerns. "How are you feeling about today?"
The last attempt at the graduation test was due in a little over an hour.
Takuma shrugged. "I don't want to give the test, wish I had more time to prepare... but at the same time, I just want to get this over with. Finally, rest for a change," he sighed.
He had a privileged upbringing. A harmonious family with loving parents who provided for him, nothing lavish, but he never allowed to feel a lack of anything. He attended good private schools with relatively good teachers and a wonderful group of friends at every stage of his life. Some of them who he considered his friends for life. Even when he entered college, he was a day scholar and commuted right from his family home and never had to adjust to dorm life. And he never had to participate in job search as it was still a couple years in the future.
It was now that he realized that he had never really faced any hardships. Not a single life event had him seek his independence. He didn't have to worry about his finances, food, housekeeping, and a looming bleak future— in his second life, he had faced everything all simultaneously. The wild identity crisis was the cherry on top.
He was tired. He wasn't even at the starting line and was already tired.
"I will give it my best," Takuma smiled shallowly, "if I pass, good for me; if I don't, I'll leave it to the fates," he pointed to the sky. He drew from a certain green-haired three-point basketball sniper— man proposes, god disposes... do everything humanly possible, and then let the fates decide.
Maruboshi gazed down at Takuma with a peculiar gaze.
"What?"
The old shinobi shook his head lightly. A light smile wrinkled his face as he said, "You are going to make a splendid shinobi, young Takuma."
"You're only saying that because you taught me everything I know," Takuma said, but he had a big grin.
———
.
Takuma sat in the classroom turned waiting room for the graduation test in the auditorium. He had his eyes closed, trying to tune out the cacophony of his classmates' voices in the room. The first time, the classroom had been a blanket of hushed conversations, with everyone worried about their performance; on the second attempt, everyone opened up a bit and participated in discussions with each other on their predictions and supposed best tactics to ace the practical portion of the testing.
Both those times, there had been tension in the room. They were going into the unknown the first time, and the second time, they were aiming to improve over their first performance. However, this time... the room lacked any strain of tension. No one seemed to be worried about the ongoing testing, and even though the discussions revolved around it, the mood was casual.
Takuma couldn't blame them. Everyone had passed in the room; they had passed twice over. And Kibe's insistent talks about not pulling the foot from the gas pedal had eventually lost steam. Everyone in the room was already a shinobi, and going through the same thing twice was enough for them to be confident.
Everyone except him. Takuma felt his morning's words spoken a little too early. The pre-test jitters were hitting him as hard as any other day. He tried to meditate (something Maruboshi was an avid promoter of)— but he wasn't very good at meditation, and it didn't seem to be working now.
Takuma suddenly had an idea, and he pulled out a 1-ryo coin and slapped it on his arm. He didn't care if it felt like he was a nicotine addict trying to feed into his craving with a nicotine patch. Concentrating on the Leaf Concentration Practice ver coin kept him focused on his chakra control rather than his errant thoughts.
If someone told him that he was using the Leaf Concentration Practice to calm his nerves down a few months back, Takuma would have laughed first and then slapped them hard for even joking about it, as that sounded absolutely masochistic. Maruboshi had forever ruined any positive association with the exercise for him.
"Takuma."
He opened his eyes and saw Kibe at the door. It was finally his turn. He got up from the last bench and walked down the steps. He practiced a breathing exercise to keep his dancing heartbeat down.
"Going for another fail, Takuma! Best of luck; I'm rooting for you!" Hiji shouted snarkily over from his seat on the other side of the classroom.
"Shut it, Hiji!" Kibe scolded immediately.
Takuma looked at No.1 on his most disliked list and thought— yesterday was the last day of the academy; today was after that. 'Huh, I guess that's right.'
He raised his arm towards Hiji and flicked his middle finger up.
"Fuck off, mutt."
The many pairs of eyes accompanied by a few gasps turned to Takuma and then toward the shocked Hiji, who opened his mouth to say something but closed it, his eyes looking at the class.
Takuma passed by Hana, seated in the front rows. "No offense," he said.
Before anyone could say anything, Takuma was already out of the classroom, and Kibe had already closed the door behind them.
Like the last two times, Kibe led him across the corridor to the testing hall.
"How did your paper go?" asked Kibe.
"I will pass," said Takuma shortly. It had gone well, exceeding his expectations— the question set had been in his favor this time, and he was sure he would score at least an 80% grade. If he was being optimistic about the grading, he could sniff the 90% ceiling.
Silence fell between the teacher and the student. It wasn't surprising; they didn't talk much. If they were in a big college class, Takuma would be a student of whom Kibe didn't know the name.
Kibe broke the silence and started, "If your paper is decent—"
"Even if I do badly in everything else, there's a real chance I could pass. I just need to successfully perform academy three. I know; you have told me before," said Takuma without looking at Kibe.
"... I see," said Kibe. There was another pause. "Can you... can you do all three?"
They reached the auditorium entrance. Takuma grabbed the handle and slid the door open. He stared inside but didn't immediately enter; instead, he said, "You'll know when you get my result," and without sparing a glance to Kibe, Takuma slipped inside.
The inside of the auditorium was the same as Takuma had seen the last two times. The length of the hall had been dived up to different portions of the testing. His eyes automatically went to the second-floor corridor from where multiple shinobi peered down the testing floor. He gave each of them a hard look, memorizing as much detail as he could. There were ten of them.
He waited for the bukijutsu invigilator to call him up. Despite having given the test twice, the invigilator had him listen to the instructors again, going through everything in clear detail.
"Understood?"
Takuma nodded and headed towards the weapons table. He picked up the only three weapons he knew how to wield— kunai, shuriken, and senbon. The weapons were still off-balance, and the exercise targets were similar to the last two times. The difference came from Takuma's performance; he still threw his weapons one at a time, but he was much quicker in his successive throws, and the consistency and accuracy couldn't be compared to his first attempt. Almost all of his throws hit the red bullseyes.
The instructor nodded as he blocked the senbon. Takuma had learned his lesson and had aimed at vital spots.
This invigilator was different from the last two times, and this one didn't give advice like the bukijutsu invigilator from the first attempt did.
Takuma moved on to the next portion of the testing, arguably the most important part of it— at least for him.
"Ah," the sound unintentionally came out of Takuma.
The ninjutsu invigilator looked up. The middle-aged woman with grey streaks in her hair had the same red-trimmed explosion tag-styled earrings as before that dangled when she moved her head. Her eyes flashed, and Takuma knew she recognized him. She looked down at her clipboard before speaking.
"Takuma?"
Takuma nodded, and the woman repeated the instructions for the ninjutsu test. She showed no sign of recognition, which made him wonder if she was pretending to not recognize him.
"Let's start with Bunshin no Jutsu (Clone Jutsu)," she said. Takuma weaved the hands seals, and six clones stood around the real him. They moved, changed expressions, and did various things. The invigilator's eyes shined before she noted something on her clipboard and asked him to proceed with Henge no Jutsu (Transformation Jutsu).
She gave no imitation target, so Takuma transformed into one of the shinobi on the second-floor corridor. His appearance was fresh in his mind, and he knew that transforming into the ninjutsu invigilator was the wrong choice— even if she was supposed to be objective in her grading, there was a chance she would be offended by something in his imitation. He didn't want that.
Finally, it was time for Kawarimi no Jutsu (Substitution Jutsu). It was the jutsu he had least practiced, as it was the last academy three he had picked up. From the get-go, Takuma had come to know that Maruboshi didn't like Kawarimi no Jutsu as it was a completely useless jutsu. The jutsu required the user to substitute an object in their place to take an attack, followed by getting out of the enemy's sight. It was essentially pulling up a shield to block an attack and then ditching said shield before running away. It was the running part that Maruboshi had a problem with, even though the hand seals for the jutsu were exclusively used during the running part. According to Maruboshi, the running and hiding part was inefficient as it only worked when the surrounding environment allowed it. The jutsu would work splendidly in a forest but miserably fail in a grassland. Moreover, the user needed to weave hand seals quickly for the jutsu to work seamlessly. It also failed when the attack was faster than the user's ability to procure the substitute.
The only reason Kawarimi no Jutsu was taught in the academy was because the chakra movement caused by the hand seals granted the user a short burst of linear speed, which allowed them to hide quickly (it would be useless if the enemy's sight could catch the fast movement). And that chakra movement was six points similar to Shunshin no Jutsu (Body Flicker Jutsu)— a high-speed movement technique that allowed the user to move linear distance at speeds untraceable by the untrained eye. Shunshin no Jutsu was a necessary jutsu that every shinobi needed to know, and thus the academy used Kawarimi no Jutsu to lay the foundation.
Kawarimi no Jutsu wasn't supposed to be used in the field as it was only a training tool, but for some reason no one told the students that. Well, he knew because Maruboshi had told him.
The invigilator pointed to a sandbag and asked to use it as the substitute, something Takuma was thankful for as he didn't want to use one of his precious and very limited storage sealing scrolls that had something he could use as a substitute. The invigilator threw a dulled kunai at Takuma, who stood several meters away. There was a puff of smoke, and the kunai was embedded into the sandbag, with Takuma standing a few feet away from it.
"Excellent!" the invigilator clapped her hands. "You performed all three splendidly. You have improved so much!"
'I knew it,' thought Takuma— the invigilator did recognize him. But he didn't say anything about it and simply moved away to the next part of testing— the taijutsu portion.
The taijutsu invigilator didn't call him up immediately, and Takuma was glad about it. If he had been called, Takuma didn't know if his legs would've held up as they were trembling uncontrollably.
He had passed. Third time's the charm. After two failures, he passed the hardest thing he had done in his life. Takuma felt a boulder's weight lift above his head. He tried to keep some tension in his body as the testing wasn't over, but when he knew that he was going to pass no matter what, it was tough to feel anything other than utter and complete relief.
He wanted to leave the academy grounds and run to find Maruboshi so that he could tell his teacher, his one and only supporter, his rock, that he had done it. A year of struggle, ten months of training, countless sleepless nights— his time hadn't been a waste. He had done it. He couldn't describe it, but he had never ever felt it. It was a sense of accomplishment— but it was nothing like he had ever experienced. All of his previous achievements seemed pointless in the face of what he felt right now.
Takuma didn't have the time to dwell as the taijutsu invigilator called him up. It wasn't anything special. When facing someone far superior in skill, the performance of the lesser didn't reflect any difference even when they got better. Takuma, who had just yesterday won his first spar, his performance didn't seem any different from the last time. As for what went into the clipboard, Takuma would only know when he got the result.
"You can exit through that door for the next part," said the taijutsu invigilator afterward, pointing to the outdoor exit of the auditorium.
Takuma nodded and walked to the exit, but before he stepped out, he looked back at the auditorium and took a moment to take in the entirety of the auditorium hall. He wanted to remember it for now and for the future.
When he stepped out, his eyes widened when he found himself looking at a bald old man dressed in a kimono sitting under a big umbrella with a coal brazier lit near his feet. The entire yard was covered with snow, but a circular area around the old man was void of snow and even any moisture on the ground.
"Sit down," said the old man.
Takuma sat down in front of the old man. The entire scene invoked a strong sense of deja-vu in him. The same events from the first attempt were repeating again. He was sitting in front of the same bald old man who was again staring at him in silence, but this time with a small smile.
Takuma found the tension he had lost before returning— something about the old man unnerved him.
"I only have one question for you, Takuma," said the old man, still smiling.
Takuma leaned forward in his chair slightly. He was ready; no matter what the old man threw at him, he was going to answer; he was prepared this time.
"How many people stood in the auditorium's second-floor corridor?"
Takuma was taken aback. The same question? He was sure there would be another question. He leaned back into this chair and took a moment to contemplate.
"... Nine of them," he said— one person was sitting.
The old man's small smile bloomed into a full-blown one. "Smart child," he said and stood up from his seat.
Takuma felt a hot breeze tickling him under his ear. He frowned but didn't raise his hand to scratch the itch as he was in front of the invigilator. It went away on its own.
The old man who had stood up frowned as he looked at him. Takuma was confused at the sudden change in expression but didn't say anything. Maybe the old man was experiencing pains that came with old age.
The old man's expression eased, and he stepped away from his chair, and Takuma's eyes widened when he saw an identical old man sitting in the chair— it was as if the old man had left an afterimage behind him.
How? Takuma looked between the identical old men— one sitting and one standing. He glanced at both of their feet and saw that both had shadows. 'Not Bunshin no Jutsu... Kage Bunshin no Jutsu (Shadow Clone Jutsu)?' he thought. But there were no hand seals or the puff of smoke. The puff of smoke could be eliminated, but what about the hand seal? How did the old man make a clone appear in his chair so seamlessly?
As Takuma's mind raced to find an answer, the standing old man saw Takuma's eyes going between him and his chair. His expression once again faltered.
"... You can see through it... already?" said the standing old man with surprise.
"Huh? I-I mean, yes. I can see the clone," said Takuma, confused. Was he not supposed to see the clone?
"... That's not a clone," the old man pointed at his chair.
Takuma's confusion deepened. His brows arched together as he gazed at the old man in the chair. If it wasn't a clone, then what was it—... the answer clicked like the last piece of a puzzle.
"Genjutsu," he gasped. Takuma's hand made a tiger hand seal and immediately dispelled the genjutsu cast upon him. Maruboshi hadn't taught him to cast genjutsu (it wasn't even on the table), but he had taught him how to dispel one— it was easy.
The old man in the chair disappeared like a mirage, leaving only the standing old man behind.
Takuma breathed a sigh of relief, but confusion still plagued him. With a little thinking, it was clear that the old man was planning to fool him through a genjutsu. Under the guise of illusion, he would get up, leaving behind an illusion of him still sitting, making it so that Takuma would think nothing had changed. But why was he able to see the standing old man, who he wasn't supposed to see, when the genjutsu had clearly been cast successfully.
Had the old man made a mistake?
Takuma didn't get an answer that day. The old man didn't say anything else before sending him away.
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