Kibe gazed at his students sitting in a circle on the academy training grounds. They were chattering away as usual, like someone would sew their mouth if they didn't keep talking. He didn't stop them like he usually would— it was their st day as academy cssmates after all. He was sure they were excited to leave the academy and finally gain their forehead protector, marking them as shinobi of the vilge hidden in the leaves. But he knew they would look back at their academy days with a past yearning, hoping they would have cherished the simpler times more, and enjoyed living in this time more.

  Next week, they would receive their graduation scrolls along with their forehead protectors and their assignment details. Kibe wondered how his css would be divided into teams. He had given his recommendations and reports, but the decision wasn't in his hands. The selection committee from the Leaf Genin Resource Command would finalize the assignments.

  Ah, how long had it been since he had st met his teammates? They were inseparable once, staying together the entire day— training, missions, eating, ughing, pying, crying, they did everything together. But then one of them got promoted, and the four-man cell became three people. They were still an official team on record, they still met regurly and even went on missions, but it wasn't like before. Then they started to go on missions with other teams that had one member promoted. A four-man cell wasn't a standard for just any reason. That split them every more. More promotions followed, and time spent apart increased further. And it ended with their sensei officially disbanding their team, as it happened to every jonin-led team that began right after the academy. After that, they were a team only in spirit or when their exact configuration suited a mission.

  Now, it had been years since they had been on a joint mission. Not after he had taken the instructor position at the academy, away from active field duty. He didn't think he would return to active duty until it was mandated— his girlfriend wouldn't like it if he did. Neither was he going to remain as an academy instructor; he would move on eventually; the rules would make him. Academy instructors had to be younger than a specific age limit so they could be closer in their age to their students; when that age gap increased, it was time for a younger instructor who could connect to the young children to step in. He, himself, had already started to prepare for interviews for administrative departments that he would attempt in a couple years.

  He raised his clipboard with sparring pns he had drawn for the week. It was the st day, and the kids had compined, but it was to be done. He scrolled his eyes over the list and found that only two names remained. It was going to be the st spar of the final year css.

  Kibe narrowed his eyes as he called the names: "Aimi and... Takuma, come up."

  Aimi, the ball of never-ending energy, skipped to the center of the sparring circle; no weather could slow her down. On the other hand, Takuma was opposite in his trudge from his spot, dragging his feet through the snow.

  Kibe examined Takuma. His weakest student looked worse for wear; he had looked so for the past couple of weeks. Dark circles under the eyes, unkempt hair, and a general feeling of fatigue. He didn't know the reason, he hadn't asked, but he could guess— after two fails, he would look like Takuma, if not worse.

  Two fails, Kibe sighed. Takuma had never been a bright student; calling him an average student would be an over-exaggeration, for he had consistently been in st pce from year one. But this year, Takuma had taken a dive for the worse. If he was bad before, he was the worst now. Not a single thing about him expressed a shinobi academy student.

  Things changed through the year. Takuma had shown progress on all fronts, consistently performing better than before. He could hit targets now, st in spars for much longer, and even perform jutsu— something that had shocked him the first time (and the only time) he had seen it, through a look at his graduation test results showed the ability to perform Henge no Jutsu (Transformation Jutsu) and Bunshin no Jutsu (Clone Jutsu). It also showed an above-average performance in theoretical knowledge.

  'He should be able to pass if he can just do Kawarimi no Jutsu (Substitution Jutsu),' Kibe thought. The result wouldn't be spectacur, but it would still be a pass— that should be enough for Takuma.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  "Yes!" said Aimi. Takuma simply raised his hand to form the seal of confrontation.

  "Start," Kibe decred, and Aimi immediately ran forward.

  It took her no time to cross the distance, and she swung for Takuma's head. Takuma leapt back to evade, but Aimi was faster, and it was already too te to dodge. Aimi's fist closed in, but her blow crashed against Takuma's raised block at the st moment.

  Takuma was on the defensive and had to dance backward to avoid getting clobbered. Aimi was a slender girl but fast. Her follow-up attacks pushed all the way to the edge of the ring, close to forcing him out.

  Kibe got ready to end the fight; getting out of the circle was an instant loss. Even the kids behind Takuma got ready for him to be pushed out by Aimi as they moved aside to clear the way.

  But then, like a quick snake, Takuma struck Aimi's arms and shoulders in succession, breaking any upper body momentum and bance she had. It happened fast as Takuma lurched his arms forward to grab Aimi's clothes and then roughly pulled her forward as he used his feet to pivot out of the way, sending an out of bance Aimi stumbling towards the edge of the fighting circle.

  Kibe's lips parted, and his eyes widened a fraction. He had just seen Takuma baiting Aimi in an effort to push her out of the circle when she thought she was doing it to him. Unfortunately, Takuma was hasty in his move as the nimble Aimi regained her bance, albeit on the very edge of the boundary. She immediately put herself a distance from the edge, all the while shooting a startled look at Takuma.

  Takuma lowered his body as he leaned forward and mimicked Aimi's steps as she moved in the circle, shortening the distance between them a bit with every step.

  '... He's going on offense,' the thought struck Kibe like a bucket of water on a sleeping man. It shouldn't have been surprising, but he had never seen Takuma on offense, not once. The poor boy spent his time in spars running, dodging, and blocking. It would continue until Takuma's opponent had him surrender.

  On cue, Takuma unched an attack of his own. He thrust at Aimi, and the girl turned, avoiding the strike. Takuma darted forward, whipping his leg into a side-sweeping swing that would crash into Aimi's exposed back, but she whirled, blocking the strike, and with her near arm she threw an elbow toward Takuma's temple.

  Takuma reeled back, disengaging at his quickest, and skipped out of Aimi's range.

  Aimi gave herself a moment to catch herself before pushing forward, attacking Takuma's shoulder, leg, and arm. Takuma blocked each attack while moving in circles.

  Kibe thinned his lips. Aimi was one of his agile students; she was nimble, flexible, and quick on her feet, allowing her to run circles around her opponents, getting in quick hits that annoyed them, causing them to act brashly, which Aimi would then exploit. But the girl's skill in taijutsu didn't allow her to effectively use her gifts. Her choices of targets were poor and often poorly timed, wasting away precious opportunities and opening her to counter offense.

  Aimi lurched into a lopping attack. Takuma blocked. His arm was inside Aimi's arm and Takuma lifted up and away, moving Aimi's arm out of position, leaving her unable to defend as Takuma brought his fist down on her shoulder. Aimi cried out and darted back, but not before Takuma attacked again, smashing his kick into Aimi's upper arm.

  Aimi yelped and jumped several paces back. Takuma followed immediately, stabbing his first that would gut her, but Aimi pushed herself out of reach. She was faster, after all.

  Kibe gnced at Takuma to see if he was frustrated at the opportunity to finish Aimi off, but the boy had his dark eyes trained on his opponent. It was a look of sheer focus.

  Aimi growled, her face all bunched up, and unched herself forward with every intent to attack.

  Takuma held his ground, his eyes hadn't Aimi since the start of the fight. He pulled his leg back and kicked the ground, sending a pile of snow toward Aimi.

  "Sensei!" one of the students yelled.

  "Shut up!" Kibe silenced, his eyes stuck to the fight.

  Aimi eeped, bringing her face up to her face. Takuma moved. He drilled a low kick into Aimi's knee, causing her to cry and lean down. He grabbed the smaller Aimi and threw her over his shoulder, thrashing her into the ground. Aimi tried to roll away, but Takuma pnted a kick into her stomach. He then stood over and leaned down with raised first to pummel where she y.

  Kibe saw Aimi curl up into a ball and knew it was the end. He called.

  "Stop!"

  Takuma stopped and then staggered back. His heavy breaths fogged the air as he looked down at Aimi with wide eyes.

  Kibe looked at the weakest student in his css and said, "Winner... Takuma." He had said that for the first time, and it indeed felt strange.

  There were no cheers in support or cpping that happened at the end of every spar. There wasn't a peep from the students as all of them watched the result in front of them. Takuma standing, his opponent on the ground— not the other way around.

  Kibe stepped forward. "Get up, Aimi," he said.

  The girl got up but kept her eyes down at her feet, not daring to look up. Perhaps too ashamed to have lost against Takuma.

  "Seal of Reconciliation," Kibe ordered.

  Aimi, with her head down, raised her hand with her index and middle finger out. But Takuma's hand didn't come. She snapped her head up, anger twisting her expression.

  "You—!"

  She didn't continue with her eyes widening. Takuma had his head raised up, his palms covering his eyes. His shoulders shook silently.

  Aimi's face went from anger to surprise to concern. She joined her hands in front of her chest and stepped closer to Takum.

  "H-Hey, are you alright—"

  Aimi couldn't complete her sentence as she was suddenly pulled into a hug by Takuma. The taller boy completely enveloped the smaller girl as she eeped in shock.

  Kibe looked at the weakest student in his css... who, on his st fight, on his css' st fight... had secured his first victory.

  "H-H-Hey, you won, you know," Aimi's muffled voice sounded out from Takuma's chest as her arms stroked Takuma's back. "I know I'm great, but you shouldn't cry about it."

  A chuckle escaped him.

  Kibe looked at the.... He looked at Takuma and hoped the boy would show a simir performance tomorrow when it truly mattered.

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