The academy classroom was awash with morning light as Fujimoto-sensei entered, his presence immediately calling the students to order.
"Next week," he announced in a stern voice, "we will be holding the end-of-year exams. While not as lethal as the third-year exams, a Kirigakure ninja must always be prepared for anything."
He paused meaningfully, his gaze sweeping across the classroom. "In this village, every test is an opportunity to demonstrate one's determination... or weakness."
"Sensei," Aoi raised her hand, "what are the criteria for passing?"
"The exam is divided into three parts," Fujimoto explained. "The theory test and the practical demonstration of a jutsu are worth thirty points each. The final sparring match is worth forty points. To pass, one must score at least sixty points."
"Why this specific division of points?" another student asked.
"Because in an emergency, second-years and up could be called upon to serve the village," Fujimoto replied, his tone suddenly more serious. "Sixty points in all three tests indicates at least a basic mastery of both fundamental techniques and theory. It's the minimum needed to be considered useful in battle."
A murmur of excitement mixed with tension ran through the class. Jun'ko sat up straight, her eyes shining as she whispered to Ren, "I can finally show off my new mist!"
"Technically," Aoi chimed in, already deep in his notes, "the division of points suggests an emphasis on practical combat. Forty points for sparring means that..."
"Please," Shinji interrupted, fully awake for once, "no statistics lessons before the exam."
"Don't expect leniency just because you're a first year," Fujimoto-sensei continued. "The examiners will be evaluating not only your technique, but also your potential as future Kirigakure ninja."
Yukiko, sitting two rows ahead, maintained her usual impassive expression.
"Sensei," a student asked from the back row, "is it true that ANBU observe the exams?"
Fujimoto paused for a calculated moment. "The village is always on the lookout for promising talent. Take this as an added incentive to do your best."
'A full exam with ANBU observers,' Ren mused. 'I'll have to carefully calibrate my performance. Show enough to pass, but not so much that I attract unwanted attention.'
That evening, in his mother's shop, Ren was helping to sort a new shipment of kunai. The silence was comfortable between them, broken only by the clanking of weapons.
"Are you worried about the exam?" Yuki asked as he labeled a box of shuriken.
"No," Ren replied, weighing a kunai in his hand. "Just... thoughtful."
His mother watched him for a moment. "You know, the end-of-year exams have always been an important time for the village. It's when the clans show off their heirs and..." she trailed off, her gaze wandering into the mist outside the window. "But you don't need to prove anything to anyone. You just do your best."
A small smile formed on Ren's face.
Later, in the safety of his room, he pulled out a seemingly nondescript containment scroll. At first glance, it looked like a normal scroll of basic techniques - a deliberate appearance. Only his specific chakra could reveal its true contents.
With a precise set of seals, he revealed a small, dark-covered notebook—his diary of future events, created after his father's death when he realized how dangerous it was to rely on memory alone.
'Yagura,' he wrote in neat handwriting. 'Something's off with the timing. The Sanbi died with Rin, it should take time for it to reform. How can Yagura become a jinchūriki and then a Mizukage so quickly?'
He paused, his pen hovering over the page. Something was eluding him, a missing piece of the puzzle that could prove crucial. Perhaps the answer was connected to the way the tailed beasts reformed? Or was there something else, something more sinister behind this apparent temporal incongruity?
He closed the notebook, a new uneasiness creeping into his mind. He formed seals to reseal it in the scroll—another layer of protection he'd added using techniques he'd learned from Tatsumi-sensei.
The fog outside the window seemed thicker than usual, as if it were trying to hide secrets he wasn't ready to discover yet.